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A Sweet, Painful Goodbye [PK]


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-=+=-

 

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Warning, loud noises in the music ^

 

Art by me.

 

Maybe not a daughter by blood, but a daughter nonetheless.

 

-=+=-

 

The more her daughter grew frail, the more the mother had begun to worry.

Harsh coughing fits seemed to trail Jorden wherever she went... and with that trailed the concern of her mother. The evening turned into night, the archery competition within Veritas coming to a close and her daughter returning from her small venture to the tavern.

 

Coughing fits began to consume Jorden's form, the two elves accompanying her- her mother and Annabelle- bringing her to her home where she was laid onto her couch, a light fire going to keep the house warm. A few tears were shed.

 

Her mother urgently searched her medical bag, producing few herbs into a tea in an attempt to calm the coughs- to her dismay this worked only temporarily.

 

The life began to drain from her daughter's eyes, staring blankly out the window before the Brashton quietly muttered

"I think I want to sit on the front porch."

And so it was, the group brought themselves to the porch. Annabelle rested herself against the door, the frail woman onto a stool, and her mother standing beside her, taking grip of her metal right hand and the guardrail of the porch in front of her.

 

The three looked out into the streets of Veritas, a cool breeze wailing softly as the stars and lanterns lit the streets.

 

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Sniffles and crickets rung out into the quiet town, before a gentle hum was produced by the dying woman. As she tucked the red tatter from her pocket into a small black tome, she muttered her last words.

 

"I will love you, always and forever."

 

Though the returning words of her mother were harsh and quiet due to the tears running rapidly down her face, she replied.

 

"I will always love you too Jorden... I'm not sure I'll ever love another more."

 

Her daughter then would take her final breath, slowly closing her eye, and resting.

 

As Annabelle glanced over, she whispered a single word.

 

 "...Jorden...?"

 

As Pruinae felt her daughter's hand grow limp, she did not dare to look over. Her grip tightened, her breathing becoming loud and shaky, as well as the whole of her form lightly quivering. Her lips parted as her exhales became harsher, tears running faster as her head tilted downwards.

 

The mother sobbed, lowering herself to sit leaning against the wall as she continued to sob and sob- loud and painful her cries were, filled to the brim with sorrow. She let go of the railing, both hands cradling Jorden's metal one in despair.

 

No wound to her exterior could ever compare to what Pruinae felt at this moment.

 

The mother grieved the loss of her child.

 

-=+=-

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ooc: I didn't know your character at all, but her art is very lovely.

 

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Now the queen can finally rest~ +1

 

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“Jorden?” Echoed rhetorically the voice of Alicjo Verrana, layered in concern and disbelief upon hearing of her quiet passing. The news had coaxed the old Southeron into a long silence of deliberation, the brows against his forehead quaked briefly, and his lips pursed thin as his tongue idly rolled against them. Finally contributing a sandpaper utterance, he rasped, “I see.” The bearded Southeron picked his head from his aversion, offering then a forced, wry smile and a bob of his head- one that was meant to dismiss the messenger before falling back into his stool, taking a prolonged inhale through flaring nostrils.

 

— • —

 

You see, when the two met, Jorden was dying- and it would not be the last time he saw her on that brink either. The most vivid of his first memories with her was compressing a gash against her neck, long enough to stall the profuse bleeding until she could receive more of an aid than his novice abilities could provide. So, perhaps the news of her passing should not be so much of a surprise to him, but all the same, of course it was. How many surgeries had he sat through? How many punches had he seen her take, how many beasts had he watched corner her, and how many limbs did he watch her lose? Though, none of it ever seemed to slow her for longer than the doctor recommended, good as new with a new metal bit to boast.

 

“Give it enough time, you’ll lose the other one.” A mirthful jest meant for the Brashton as she awoke from her leg’s replacement surgery, accompanied by a gentle pat against her shoulder. Though, the coy smirk against his expressions would soon after dissipate the longer he looked down at her fallen form. “I’m sorry.” He admitted in a hushed tone, once more patting against the woman’s shoulder. “Your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.” He rationalized with her- with himself, before seeing himself out for a smoke. She was under his orders when it happened, so he couldn’t help to feel responsible for what had happened to her leg, even still, thirty some-odd years later. 

 

And even still, thirty some-odd years later, whenever Alicjo stared at a crackling flame for too long, he was brought back to the time he denied Brashton’s requisition of revision to their plan. “We should have listened to each other more.” A thought would tell him in retrospect, coaxing his hands to a clasp in front of him. A bull and a bear, although prone to butt heads, they very seldom did.

 

They understood each other, that Brashton and the Verrana. They understood each other and fought the same fights. And though he did very little to ease her when she would begin to tremble at their shared traumas, it was not from a lack of effort- it was simply that he felt too similar for his own comfort. Jorden's anguish only made him fear his own, the anguish that he tried greatly to bury. A reminder that he was responsible, direct or in.

 

And even though he never shared the thought, he was grateful she never said it.

 

— • —

 

An anxiously shaking leg starting now, Alicjo held his gaze against clasped hands that rested atop his knees- intermittently huffing and puffing quietly as repressed men do amidst mourning. He tried to recall their better times, something to lift the weight of another fallen comrade. The drinks and the jeers, those victories that they shared under the same tatters- a wry smile began a tug, sounding that amused snort he often does. "Damn, it’s so hard to find ones you trust," especially at their shared age. Perhaps her passing wasn’t such a bad thing though, because it meant she no longer was tortured by an ever-decaying form. That she was no longer plagued with traumas to haunt her youth’s decisions. But it meant Alicjo lost one of his greatest comrades. That a lot of people lost one of the most benevolent souls to grace the realms.

 

A reminder then- of the finite nature of it all. 

Weep in silence, for a warrior cannot cry until their fight is won.

 

— • —

 

Spoiler

didn't hit me 'til I started thinking just how long these two been friends. there's always this lingering feeling that you have more time for things and they suddenly come to a halt, and this is one of those times.

 

we'll have to find some other characters to mingle now. gonna miss this dynamic, though, that's for sure.

 

godspeed, jorden brashton. 

 

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Jorden Brashton | Alicjo Verrana, circa 1805

 

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Mika Uialben, though somber in tone, raises a glass from inside his underground mannor, staring into the deep tunnels of what is yet to be created comments "To another 100 years then, it's a promise now." he then takes a good sip from the glass in his hand before setting it back on the table next to him, standing up to continue his day.

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Somewhere, an elven woman would be collecting flowers, plans going through her head and many ideas flashing as small additions to what she was preparing... Yet she feels her heart sink for a moment, realizing the time that has passed since she had promised her beloved to spend time together. "...Maybe i should check back home..." She'd simply say before wandering back towards the small town...

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Alistair...for this one night not Aeonn as he hears of his dear sister passing after just seeing her a few days past in the Urugan Tavern drinks his sadness away for she would not want to see him in mourning. "Heh...another fiery spirit for the beyond" hed then raise his glass in toast to her memory "To the very...first...valkyire....may there be many more who follow your example dear sister...and I will keep my promise...youll see me sometime...but wont be to soon" as he downs the his glass one of many to come hed pause looking to the cieling with a tiery eyed smile "A rest...after a job...well...done"

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Amidst a pile of wooden boxes packed to the brim with various items, dust free spots on the walls where paintings once hung a young elfess sits in her chair reading of the news. She reads it over multiple times before dropping the paper sitting back in her chair as she looks back on someone she called a friend, called a fellow Brother. One of the first people she met in this new world outside her parents home.

 

Looking over to the boxes she also thinks of the future, the ripples such an event would have on countless lives, she thought of the stories that would be told of the Brashton. Giving her head a shake and coming to a stand, her eyes falling to her bow before hearing the sounds of the sheep she had inherited when the woman had uplifted her roots. “I know wherever she is, she’s looking out over a green pasture, sheep that touch the horizon.” She leans over blowing out a candle as the room goes dark.

 

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                              StroooooooooongBear

 

Jorden was such an amazing character in both her design and the way you approached her rp. Truely someone Yuelena looked upto. As literally the third person I ever met on this server you both will forever be cherished in my heart, and knowing you these passed month's has been a blast.

 

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"No!

A incense ridden woman choked out into the night as this news was brought to her, her right hand hurling a punch into a nearby mirror, eyeing past herself at nothing in particular from within the now shattered and scarlet stained glass.
"Unacceptable."

Though no tears fell, a fire was lit, one to honor the fallen comrade, and another to remain faithful, hopeful within such undesired circumstances. 

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OOC: Screenshot creds to BasilTheBunny!

 

Veritas… A welcoming place to all…“, and a final place of rest for some. 


Within The Brashton's final moments, Annabelle allowed a soft smile to cross over herself as tears began to fall from her saddened face, a bittersweet moment. Her eyes had closed, taking in the peaceful breeze that swept through the Golden Vale in which Veritas stood between. The city was welcoming, holding a peaceful aura around it for most. Even upon the porch in which she stood beside Jorden, a woman she had known for most her life, the highlander had always provided the same feeling to the young mali'aheral

 

The elder's coughs had seized, a trait uncommonly found in her in recent years. Anna's eyes had peeped open as she quietly whispered "..Jorden..?" to the now breathless body that remained of the woman that once was. She had taken ahold of one of Jorden’s hands, holding it close to herself at that moment. A Brother had fallen, a friend that would not be long-forgotten. A part of the ‘Fenn’s family whom she would cherish forever, just as she had been told to by the woman herself. 


Mali always seem to be the first to go.. the woman had foolishly thought back on her words as she rested beside her friend, one final time. 

 

 

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OOC: 

 

Strong… aaa 

 

Jorden was an absolutely beautiful character, inside and out. I have always loved every part of how you played her. A special one for sure. Thank you for all the opportunities you gave me to interact with Jorden, I’ve enjoyed every single one of them, and I feel absolutely honored to have been a part of her final interaction before her time in peace. 
 

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Gail Cordius heard of the notice early into the evening-- sitting within his humble home on the outskirts of Veritas. The aging man took a measured sip a freshly brewed cup of Aeline's prized peppermint tea, leaning against the thin wall of the structure as tapped the feather of his exquisite quill against his chin, a half-drained jar of ink sitting beside him.

 

He heard a sizable commotion outside and leaned forward in his place, reaching out to paw the wooden shutters away from his window and peer into the street. Then, he heard the claims of her death, his eyes growing wider as he leaned back away from the window and back against the wall, seemingly shocked by the realization that his friend was no more. Aeline, sitting at the fireside on the opposite end of the home looked over her shoulder and noticed the expression on Gail's face, an expression on concern suddenly flashing over her own as she got to her feet, lightly moving towards him and placing her hands on his shoulders,

"Gail?" She asked, the concern even more obvious in her soft tone, "Are you alright?"

Gail shook his head wordlessly for a long moment, still in a state of disbelief. "Jorden..." His voice remained quiet as he turned to address his wife, "She's... dead... such a wonderful woman, gone in the blink of an eye..." He blinked the hint of a tear from his eye before continuing, "So suddenly... she was fine just a few days ago, during the opening of the tavern... she... was the same age as me..." A look of fear mingled with sadness on his own face, "If that's the fate that befell her... what could be waiting for me?"

Without another word to Aeline, he grabbed the crutches from where he had left them leaning on the edge of the table and retreated to the bedroom, a glistening of sorrow embedded deep within his eyes.

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As word had gotten to Ashe about her mother's passing the woman, against her mother's wishes, began to cry. "I'm not ready yet, remember?" Ashe sniffled to herself, as if she were still talking to her mother, "And besides, you're not that old." She said the phrase, one that had been repeated over and over to her mother- as if trying to reverse time itself. The truth was she had known this was coming. She had watched her mother grow more tired and knew eventually she would need need to rest- but Ashe didn't think she would ever really be ready.  She had said goodbye to her mother many times in her life. Before going off to play as a child, before all of her adventures when she got older. Only this time, this was permanent. It had always been her and her mother for all of her life, and now it was just...her. 

 

She remembered her last conversation with her mother. "That is all I ask, don't forget about me," the words of her mother rang through her ears, still fresh in her mind, "Just remember, I have always loved you and I always will, keep your eyes on the horizon and never look back." 

 

Ashe finally read the note that was left for her then, taking it out of her pocket with shaky hands. She realized then, after reading it over, that she wasn't truly alone- and she never would be. When Ashe came into this life it was only her and her mother- but since then her small family had grown. Jorden had made it grow. She knew then in the absence of her mother, she would be okay. Her mother had made sure of that and although it would be hard, she knew that eventually she would find peace within her family. 

 

With a sigh, she ceased her crying and looked down at her growing stomach. She knew she had a job to do. Without hesitation Ashe would begin to talk to her unborn child, telling the child all the amazing stories about the remarkable woman that was Jorden Brashton. Her mother had finally gotten the rest she so much deserved, and Ashe took solace in knowing that this would not be the last time her mother's story was told. 

 

 

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Somewhere in the woods of Elvenesse a red-haired 'ame woman falls silent, mourning the death of her long time friend, who had come so far and had led a truly wonderful life.

Edited by briarthorn
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Kallian Syrivir lets out a long sigh upon hearing the news of her death. Remaining quiet for a moment and starring into the distance before finally speaking up "Be at peace llir... you deserve the rest"  he softly said to himself, reflecting a bit on the past with her. Mainly thinking about the most recent events... drinking tea and chatting in Veritas. "... this town will feel empty without you"

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Not my art.

━━━━━━━━❈━━━━━━━━

 

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What else can go wrong?

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Cowering in foreign lands, a young Dering resides hidden within a gloomy and murky cave. Mayilun Leah Dering-Kelmenour sat with her dearest companion Mister Lu -- the ginger cat that aided her throughout her most advantageous endeavors. The Dering had kept cover here for two months now, seeking solace and tranquility during trying times. Nonetheless, she sought just that. 

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Plop, plop, plop.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The only sounds disturbing the silence was the occasional growling from the aging feline and the gentle drips of water falling from the stalactites that hung above the girl's head -- splashing into the cold, damp floors she found herself upon. Regardless, she didn't mind. Alas, she even found comfort in the ongoing repetition.

 

On a day breezier than usual, one would find Mayilun in the same spot as the days before. Although, the air would be colder and dry, the water dripping faster from the stalactites while it stormed just outside. The cave brisktly grew unwelcoming. The howls of the wind clashing against the caves walls and then minor flooding drew the Dering to the figurative edge.

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Jus'a  few more days"

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Wrapping herself in a makeshift blanket, Mayilun tucked herself away in the furthest corner of the cave she made her home -- furthest away from the splashing water and turbulent rain.

 

As the day passed, the rain got worse and the winds now howl much louder than before. Coughing and shivering, Mayilun's paranoid gaze shifts from the cave's entrance to Mister Lu -- the cat now laying on her side still. Now, a pigeon riddled with feathers spanning from shades of brown and white flaps it's way into the cave. "Momma's bird." May utters, her voice the most scratched and hoarse it's ever been. Reaching forth, the Dering pulled a letter from the bird's beak before shooing it off. Leaning back, she read.

 

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"What else can go wrong?"      

Mayilun murmured, only to be returned with silence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The letter entailed a recount of the most recent events that's passed following her leave -- that being the passing of one, Jorden Brashton, and the return of her father.

 

With a downward inclination of her head, she let the letter slip from her grasp and fall into the puddle beside her. Her eyes close almost immediately, now leaking tears streaming down her reddened countenance. Mayilun rose her mudded fingers, running them through her greased hair whilst she sobbed in silence -- only the faint whimpering of the woman disturbing such.

 

With this, she rose. Scooping Mister Lu from the ground, presumably in a deep slumber, Mayilun Leah stormed out of the cave after months of solitude.

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Ah'm comin'"

━━━━━━━━━━━━
 

 

 

 

 

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didn't have enough time...

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Spoiler

 

 

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Seated comfortably on her green seat in a manor not far from the city of Providence, Giselle Antoinette read. The crackling of the fireplace accompanied by the night bird's chirping straying from the open window plastered a smile on the pregnant woman's face during twilight. A slim cigarette sat snug between her index and middle finger, a book carefully held in her other hand. To her left sat her dearest husband, too holding a cigarette of his own. "Hasn't today been a good one, love?" The man inquires with a loving gaze on his visage. Replying with a nod and gentle, "Oui, of course," Giselle returns her gaze to the fire. The ambient was warm, the moods of both uplifted and bright. Loving glances were exchanged by the two while they both enjoyed the silence.

 

After a few moments pass, a small carrier bird passed into the living area -- dropping a note onto the coffee table before leaving through the window just as it entered. "Hm," the woman hums. With a lofted eyebrow, she rose the letter up and scanned the parchment.

 

"To Milena Palmer-Brashton," was written on the back. A mumbled "Goodness," was Giselle's reaction to such name. "It's been decades someone has called me this." 

 

The letter read:

 

"Death has never been an easy thing to handle, it comes with much pain and sorrow, to hard for one to handle alone. With this letter, there is one that is the same as this, the carrier of the other letter is one of blood, either the younger or the old. This letter will bring you closer to finding peace without me, remember, never look back, keep your eyes on the horizon."


Oddly at the bottom of the letter, all there was... was a simply 'J' in gold print.

 

Shaken and silent, Giselle places the letter back onto the coffee table. Her eyes wide, her smile now faded into a solemn pout. The woman's gaze dropped into her lap, a weak huff exerting from her lips. "I can't believe it..." She whispers as her finger pressed against her temple.

 

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"Are vy okay?"

The husband inquired with a cautious tone, his left palm meeting the woman's back with a gentle touch.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

"I never got time to really... know  her. I just got lost her as quick as I found her..."

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