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HER FALL


Zaerie
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It was a typical morning for Friedrich. He had a bit of an extra strut in his step from the day before when he had managed to make a deal with the rats in the sewers and their rat king. He was up earlier than most and was bring his sister some of his soup as he thought it would be a considerate treat. Friedrich was the first to happen upon his sister's body as he went to deliver it to her. He dropped the bowl and rushed to Marcella's side. What medical training Friedrich had would be for nothing, perhaps if he had been with her and had put aside his duty as Lord Marshal to take more time to help his sister. From a young age, he knew about death. It didn't phase him much when people died; it just built up. However, recently he needed something, anything to go right for him, yet it never happened. First, it had been the loss of the child he had raised and taught to fight; though it was not his, it stung. Then it was his uncle soon after, the man dying under his command during the defense of Reinmar. Had he not foolishly bought into the idea that Brandt couldn't have been killed so quickly, maybe he might still be alive. Third and finally, it was his sister, the girl he grew up with, his flesh and blood that, no matter what, supported him while he supported her. After years of not feeling much after deaths, something inside the man broke.

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"Oops," says Wenis the Slow-Blade.

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Adeline sat idly in her home in Providence. The elderly woman received a letter to inform her of her friend's death. She let out a heavy sigh and cast the paper into her lot fireplace.

 

"Rest easy, friend. I wish I could have helped."

Edited by Aesanie
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Anne Caroline's features soured somewhat upon hearing the news of this lady's death. In truth, the Novellen-born had admired her from afar and felt saddened about not having the chance to meet and get to know her personally.

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Ingrid Barclay tried her best to comfort her husband upon the loss of his sister. She knew how much she meant to him and the support he had always gotten from her. Ingrid herself had finally gained some fond memories with the woman while they watched over her children. Alas there would be no more memories with Marcella. No more of the aunt watching over her beloved children. No more of the sister that had been so strong and supportive to those that needed it. 'Farewell, may we meet again soon' Ingrid thought to herself.

 

Katerina Ceciliya let out a heavy sigh. Another one she cared about gone. Another life had been lost. When would it ever end? Would she just keep losing the ones she needed in her life? First it was her father, then her best friend, then her mother and now a woman that had been her strength during a difficult period for her. Given her advice and listened to her troubles. She hated it, how useless she felt whenever she lost another person dear to her. It pained her heart and would continue to do so for the rest of her life.

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A figure from afar was greatly saddened by the news of such a wondrous woman with far greater intellectual capabilities and awareness than most of the land, and hoped Marcella, the first Lady Palatine, would find that solace she must've long sought after; for it was well-deserved that she find peace, even in the afterlife. 

 

Spoiler

MY FRIEND IS SO TALENTED? THOSE DRAWINGS ARE MASTERPIECES

 

but not as much of a masterpiece as you ;] @Zaerie

 

Edited by Eryane
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Within his office in the North Wing of the Palace, The Lord Speaker continued to work restlessly against the advice of the Surgeon General. Despite the stress of countless death, the Royal Duma, and his duties as a father, Igor could not stop work, even if it meant another heart attack. However, his clerk did inform him of the passing of his former colleague and for a moment Igor paused his flow. Igor frowned deeply as he heard of the passing of yet another figure of his past. The once youthful and bright politician was now a stressed and graying man. After the clerk was dismissed from his office, Igor only thought of Marcella for a moment. He never knew her personally but her ambition and drive was something he admired. Both of them the same age, both worked to get into the Aulic Council, and both lived difficult lives. "Your ambition and drive is something all women, nie, all subjects of Haense should look up to. It's a shame that I never got to know you any better, but now you get to rest from your hardworking life, Lady Marcella" With that said, Igor returned to his paperwork. While one rests in the afterlife, the other seemed to be restless...

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Isolde Barclay never believed her aunt Marcella could die. She was immortal in that young girl's eyes. She was the woman who raised her when her parents were not around, the woman who braided her hair, and the woman who had comforted her after her head was shaved. After her adoptive sister was murdered. Isolde had been sleeping beside Marcella since Mariya's death. She hadn't spoken in years, her throat was hoarse if she ever dared make a peep. The only person who had heard her voice was Marcie.

The day before Marcella's death was like any other. Isolde woke up in her aunt's room, got dressed for the day to come, and asked the older woman to braid her hair. This was their tradition since she was little, after all. Marcella paused in her braiding to ask Isolde a question.

 

"Isolde, dear, would you like to wear one of my coats today?"

"Ja, please tante!" She'd cried in response, beginning to bounce in her place. She'd always loved Marcella's coats and hoped she could have one like them someday. Her main goal in life was to be like Marcie.

Marcella had wheeled herself over to her wardrobe and taken out two of her most iconic coats. The first was her black one with House Barclay capes draped over the shoulders and the second was her pure white fur coat. Isolde could not pick, as they were both so beautiful... But eventually she decided that today she would wear the white coat. Tomorrow, Marcie had told her, she would wear the black coat.

Tomorrow never came for Marcella.

Later on in the evening that same day, Isolde made her way to the room Marcella was staying in, now dressed in her nightgown. She had a book tucked under her arm and a blanket draped over her shoulders. She'd knocked softly upon the heavy door, only entering when Marcella's voice told her it was okay. The soft pat pat pat of the girl's bare feet on the wood echoed around the mostly empty bedroom.

"Tante, could du read me ein story before bed?" Isolde asked softly as she approached her aunt's wheelchair.

"Nein, nicht tonight Isolde. You'll sleep in your own room, for your vater and mutter's sake." Marcella's voice had lost any happiness it may have had that morning. Her eyes were noticeably more sunken in. Isolde had never realized how truly unhappy her aunt was until that moment.

"Are du sure? Du look like du need ein hug," Isolde had attempted to place a hand on her aunt's shoulder, but Marcella only shook her head. Not long after, Isolde left the room and began the climb up to her own bedroom.

That next morning, she dressed as normal. She had her hair unbraided today, as she hadn't woken up in Marcella's room, and she pulled on her aunt's black coat. When she stepped out of her room, she finally heard it.

The shouts. The cries. The sobs.

Isolde rushed down the stairs, only to stop dead in her tracks upon seeing her father outside of Marcella's room. The door was ajar. Marcella was dead.

Isolde turned around and fled back up the stairs. No one saw the child for nearly two days. Even after, no one heard her voice.


Isolde learned to braid her own hair.

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Stefan B Vyronov stared at the missive in disbelief. Marcella was always a hard working woman, one he had looked up to. Someone who could achieve whatever they put their mind to. Tears fell onto the paper as he realized he had not seen her in some time, realized she never did recover from her injuries. Thoughts flurried through the young man's head, of Marcella, of what he should have done. All for naught now for she could do naught but rest, so she fell to rust. Of course it was not due to lack of effort, but even the greatest and most hardworking people can do nothing when their body works against them. The Baron wipes away his tears. Another person dead. Another friend dead. Another to carry around in his heart. Looking upwards he would wonder if Marcella is finally happy once more.

 

Fyodor Erhdhart frowns at the missive, thinking surely it could not be that same young girl he saw those many years ago playfully fighting with her brother. Surely not the girl who he had watched slowly grow up throughout the scattered years he noticed her. Not part of the duo of siblings that made him have hope for the next generation. Reading it over for longer his fears were confirmed. He'd let out a sorrowful sigh "Well I guess death catches up to us all. No matter our age. I hope ye see yer family up there in the seven skies. Too many gone. I hope ye accomplished enough in life te be happy with it. I know ye helped many no matter what."

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Lorenz Barclay  Was walking out of his room still awake for the last two days, never catching a  shut eye. as he walked beside his late father's old room he started making his way down the stairs to  have his morning family breakfast. All of a sudden he heard a sound of a bowl hitting the floor from the upper floors. hearing that he rushed towards the sound's location as he took out his hammer fearing it was an enemy. to his surprise it was Friedrich Barclay his cousin and Marshal on his knees sitting by Marcella side....he instantly knew that Marcella has left this world. Lorenz did not have many interactions with his cousin Marcella Although he respected her greatly, and sympathized with her for losing her legs at such a young age and while she was at her prime. Lorenz merely walked away slowly leaving Friedrich with Marcella's soulless body.  he has more than enough sadness in his heart to handle this, he thought that looking at his Cousin's body may sadden him more.

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