SLEEP NO MORE [PK]

[Moenah 1069]

SLEEP NO MORE

 

[ Eurypyle (1921), John William Goodard ]

 

❈

Spoiler

 

❈

 

 

Above all things, if anyone at all was able to say one thing that symbolized the life of Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent — it was youth.

 

And from that youth, from her days as just a young toddler, it had always been full of energy, never one to keep still. In her older years, she would have more or less forgotten — but life for her few first years was actually stable. Peaceful. Perfect. That was not something she could say now. Like every other child, she enjoyed time with her siblings, her mother and father by her side. That was, of course, until her father was the first one to go.

 

That was the very first lie. Already without her father, she would be stuck for a decade with the illusion that - granted, she was older - she would see him once more. So, at the time, how could she cry? How could a child then understand death? How instant and sudden it was? She did not receive a letter, no note came for her - only so much as a kiss on the forehead. 

 

While she waited in vain, there were more things she could occupy her time with. Chess was the first - a hyperfixation until her last days. She’d play so often she’d become - what some would call - a prodigy at her young age. And she loved that game. She would sit at a board for hours, either studying it or beating men twice her own age. And so enveloped in that board and the rest of the world, her books were left untouched, and she would not even be fully literate until her early teens. 

 

But the most important things to a developing child are the relationships they make as they grow. Rhea was no exception - touching the hearts of everyone she knew. Any daughter should find themselves under the close care and advice of their mother - a luxury her sisters always had. Tragically enough, when it was Rhea’s turn, her mother had become an entirely different person to her - growing distant ever since the passing of her father. A relationship never salvaged, come Anna’s passing.

 

So, making up for what she didn’t have with her family, she made her own.

 

 

There was first her uncle, Beryl, the elder Carrington intellectual — who she clicked with right away, coming to him for most things. It could have been his doting personality, or it could have been that they were the same, as Rhea knew that it was him she could go to when it was anything related to her hobbies. There was then her distant cousin, Viktor — the stoic, phlegmatic Ruthern who, for whatever reason, allowed someone as young as her by his side and under his teaching for so long. 

 

She always considered herself grateful to have mentors such as Giselle and Victoria. Though they only started off as teachers, it wasn’t long before they both became somewhat of pseudo-mothers to her. She could have been considered slow, pronouncing words wrong, less attentive than her peers. Yet it was them who actually realized her potential. Among those her age, there was Diana, there was Mariya and Heinrika — the very first children she could call her friends. Running around the streets of Providence with them, she’d even confide in Anton, the young d’Amato Orlov in his youth. But among everyone in her life, there was one person different, when it came to Rhea’s relationships.

 

There was Ludovica. That was her family. More than any other child her age, there was none who affected Rhea as she. Providence, for years, would rarely ever see them without each other. Everything they would do, it was together, and it was the young Falcone she came to with everything. Her dearest friend. And in her time with her, and everyone else she held dear, Rhea felt things were perfect - creating a world of her own in a life full of tragedy. She felt herself untouchable — invincible.

 

Then, that glass began to falter.

 

For those who could call themselves blessed enough to have their final talks with her, they would, too, sense the impending dread she had been feeling in the days leading up to her death. She worried about everything, coming to her brother and sister - something she’d rarely done - worried about her own future. She’d run to Beryl, worried about her life. “Everything is moving too fast,” She’d quiver, shivering, though the summer heat scorched down upon her. The one flaw in her, she was not one used to change. Not in the slightest. Her mother had gone, her mentors, and now her dearest friend had herself occupied with another - and not someone she herself was particularly fond of. With feelings of abandonment yet resonating within her once again, she took action, albeit rash — as she’d usually do, cornered in one of her games of chess. She could not feel that again - especially not Ludovica. 

 

But, here she was. Surrounded in pain.

 

Hearing of a passing as tragic as Rhea’s, one can only hope it was swift and painless. But, it was the complete opposite. She’d suffered through it all, wondering what she had done. She had tried so hard to prove something of herself, she had ambitions, things she knew she would do in the future. She tried to crawl away, with the hope that she could escape her torture - all in vain now. She could never foresee herself dying now — who could ever? Death comes unexpected, sudden, and Rhea’s was no different. There would be no letters to her family, no notes to her friends. Only a head on the doorsteps of Carrington. 

 

She, of all people, did not expect her death to be so… simple. She was in the way, and that was all there was to it. Feeling abandoned to her last moments, a common theme throughout her young life, she bled without a final thought - only one of total shock. The things she could have done, would have done differently. Just like that, her future, the future she’d worried about so much, was stolen from her. And it could have been beautiful. Up until now, was it for nothing? Would Anna have been more attentive had she been smarter? Would Ludovica be so broken had she not have been born at all? After all these years, what had she accomplished? But, that question would be for the impacted to decide.

 

For life was death. Though it happens, this — This was not fair.

 

 

---

 

 

Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent

1806 — 1827

 

 

Spoiler

 

OOC: To everyone who did, thank you for joining me in my journey with Rhea. She was one of my favorites for sure, lots of fun. Sure, her death was sad, but it was totally necessary, I think. I just hope she’s remembered well, here are some final screenies of her for yall!

 

 

---

 

 

[Melpomenne 2032]

-x- OPEN ME -x-

Spoiler

 

Do not metagame any information written below!

Also enjoy the song. It adds spice I promise.

:- )

 

 

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Spoiler

 

This is written from Ludovica’s point of view! 

 

 

 

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A BEST FRIEND’S LAMENT

 

TRAGEDY

 

Ludovica sat alone in the shade just under a tree, cramped in one of the most scenic spots in the capital city of Oren - the Palace Gardens. Within her hands was a missive, rugged and worn with marks scattering its front; a thumb passed over the depiction of the d’Arkent. Nearly conditioned to withhold any turbulence sent her way, nothing hit the woman as hard as the passing of her dearest friend.

 

Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent of Carrington, a blessing sent from the heavens.

A blessing to one, Ludovica Francesca Vimmark-Roussard née Falcone.

 

Tragedy, it seemed to tread close behind Ludovica since the moment she had entered the realm. Since the beginning, it was hard to find peace within her own self, troubling for just a young girl. The hardships the girl faced would be treated with a rub on the back and a murmured “One day” from her elder sister, Nastasha Ginvera d’Amato-Orlov. Ludovica maintained herself, against all odds. However, without Rhea, the woman would have never made it this far. Already having lost so many people in her life, she felt Rhea was one that would stay around forever.

“Iss’ fine, Ludo. Iss’ going t’ be fine.” reassured Anton Fiore d’Amato-Orlov.

 

---

 

Years ago, all it took was a simple stroll down the street in a desperate search for her elder sister to bump shoulders with the d’Arkent. The two instantly clicked, as if their partnership was something of the stories prophesied or even written in stone. 

 

“You got to go out there, piccola. Make some friends. . . better ones.” Once said Ludovica’s eldest sibling, Cosimo Antony Falcone.

 

OPPOSITES DO ATTRACT

 

A cliché. “Opposites attract, yanno. .” The uttered words of a young socialite trying to justify their relationship with one of the more questionable picks of the season - a universal saying.
 

Rhea, born a noble-woman. The ray of sunshine held her head high and proud wherever she tread, one would even think she was unaware of her privilege. Always outgoing and kind, the d’Arkent was one made for the people. A heart filled with gold to the brim. Ludovica, born a middle-class hopeful. A quick tempered young woman who strode on with a stoic disposition. It took a fool to purposely agitate the Illatian, for she would mouth off till ears bled. Even then, she was caring and loving to those close to her heart.
 

-x-

Young Rhea and Ludo, running along the shoreline!

-x-

 

Sweet and sour, the perfect combination. Two sides of the same coin. With their unbreakable bond, the duo went about together nearly everywhere. Rarely would you find one without the other.

 

Balls, charity events, galas, and dinners. Matching in some way or another, the two carried around an unmistakable aura. Rhea was always the one to go up front and declare her presence, flaunting her most extravagant dress while Ludovica clapped on from the crowd - forever cheering her on.
“Come on, Ludo! How do I look?” Rhea once exclaimed, breaking out into a pose as laughter ensued between the two girls.

 

-x-

Teenage Rhea and Ludovica chatting within the Palace gardens.

-x-

 

---

 

LUDOVICA’S WORST FEAR

A masquerade, a scene the two women often found themselves in, ever since they were children, both clad in the finest materials they managed to find. However, for the years passed, they were now blossoming adults springing out from their cocoon, too early some may say. It was evident of how much Rhea and Ludovica changed since their youth. It was normal. “Children never stay children for long.” One may have thought - and it was true. Maturity was forced on the both of them since their youth, only pressed harder by the trials thrown in their way. Regardless, Ludovica in Rhea’s company, and Rhea in her’s, always found a way to put it all behind them. The two waltzed about the palace ballroom, oblivious to those around them, beaming with laughter. This would be the last time the two saw each other.

 

-x-

Adult Ludovica and Rhea waltzing at a ball.

-x-

 

A normal night, long past dusk in the streets of Oren’s capital city, Ludovica strolled down the stone streets in her departure back home. The cloud’s weeped, rain pouring down with fury. 

 

“Help! Help!”
“Someone, please! Anyone! MoJ!” Blood curdling cries of help seeped in from the gates, just steps away from Ludovica. Mary Othaman and Wilhelm d’Arkent were the source.

 

“Mary. . Mary?!” - “What's the matter?!”
Jolting forth, the sobbing Mary wrapped her arms about the Vimmark. Stunned, Ludovica returned the embrace. Pressing furthermore, the Illatian repeated her question. The answer: a visit to the Carrington estate. At last, Mary, Wilhelm, Ludovica, Anton, and two soldiers arrived soaked in rain water. And to all their dismay, the head of their beloved Rhea Alexandria sat severed before the estate’s doors.

 

“No! Rhea. . No!” 

Chaos ensued from that moment forth. The distressed Ludovica ran onwards towards the steps, sobbing as she reached for what was left of her best friend. She swooped the head up, gently cradling such within her arms. A yelling match sparked up as result between Mary and Ludovica for all to witness.

 

-x-

Ludovica gently cradling Rhea's head in her arms.

-x-

 

“She’s. . she’s comin’ wit’ me! I’ll’a. . find the rest of her. . I’a will!”

“No!” Rebut Mary, stern with her tone. “She is my sister, she stays here with me!”

 

The fighting went on, physically and verbally. However, at last, sense had entered the young woman’s mind. Thus, she retired what was left of Rhea’s severed head over for her elder brother.

 

Ludovica then scrambled on out, practically running for where she felt safest - home. The woman took no moment to think, she tried coping the best she could. As a result, Ludovica leaned on her supply of alcohol, drinking till her mind would quiet down. Hours went on, it felt as if days had passed, the Illatian still swam about in her own dread. Anton, she thought. And with that, she headed for the capital. 

 

Three knocks sounded against the front door.

Ludovica stood before the aged door, frozen with an empty glance. Moments went by, only shuffling was to be heard from inside the Falcone-d’Amato family home down Marshal Lane. And finally, the door’s came open, the woman greeted by a stranger, her brother- two detectives at work- and a blue lump atop the wooden planks. Soon, however, stepping into a pool of blood, the lump revealed to be so much more. Anton reached down, snatching what concealed the body of Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent of Carrington, only missing the woman’s head, for Ludovica to witness in all its glory.

 

My dearest friend, slaughtered. Her body resting in my living room.

 

---

 

A FINAL BID ADIEU

 

Far within Dobrov’s Woldzmir Manor, Ludovica readied herself within her room. The woman’s gaze looked with her own against a window’s pane, examining her features in a solemn silence. From behind approached her dearest husband, setting a hand atop her shoulder.

 

“All will be well, dear” uttered Alexander with a peck to the cheek.

 

Finally, she arrived at the funeral. Frozen, an effigy just before the church doors. A hand pressed against the cold wood, shoving forth till the entryway opened for the woman to enter.

 

Click. . Clack. . Click. . Clack. .  Ludovica’s heels sounded against the marble floors, each step echoing about the, otherwise silent, cathedral. And at last, the Illatian brought herself towards the pews, lowering herself to sit beside Mary Casimira Othaman née d’Arkent of Carrington.

 

-x-

Ludovica Francesca Vimmark-Roussard and Mary Casimira Othaman speaking quietly amongst themselves.

-x-

 

“Mary,” Ludovica began hesitantly with a swift bob of her head. Her tone was hoarse and written with dismay. “I’a. . am sorry, truly. For the scene I caused.” -  “It is fine,” Mary returned with a dip of her own head. “You are not the only one to blame”.

 

At last, the funeral had begun. Mary and Wilhelm went forth to address the rest, and so they did. Soon did they call upon the distressed Vimmark. So did she rise, dragging herself forth towards the casket. Ludovica gave her words the best she could, a cigarette held close whilst addressing those who came. Family, relatives, all felt the same.

 

-x-

Ludovica gazing forth toward the casket, speaking out to the rest.

-x-

 

“Thank. . thank you call for comin’,” Ludovica rasped out hesitantly. “I’a know Rhea woulda’ loved t’ see how many people came today. . she woulda’ been overjoyed.” 

 

The young woman went on, stressing about how much the d’Arkent meant to her, stressing about how much they cared for each other. Sisters truly, at heart. Feelings overwhelmed the Illatian - Ludovica had lost the one person she always knew she could depend on. They depended on each other. Yet, one rests cold before the other. 

 

And finally, the group flocked off towards the grave, the casket brought over by the palace workmen and lowered into the ground. Twenty years of age, here now lies my best friend.

 

-x-

Victoria, Anton, Ludovica, Mary, and Wilhelm standing by the beloved Rhea's grave.

-x-

 

One by one, each left something behind in the memory of the beloved who passed. Many prayed, other’s simply observed from afar. The air was heavy, the dread looming between all that was around was evident even from a simple glance. Just like that, Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent of Carrington was six feet below ground - the casket deep in bug infested dirt, hidden away for the rest of time. “Only twenty,” Ludovica would have thought to herself. So young. . so innocent. The kindest soul many would have ever met, dead in a blink.

 

So, as everyone else had departed, Ludovica sat herself down where her dearest friend was put to rest. A book in hand, she read all night in the company of her counterpart.

“Who am I supposed to go to now. . ? What do I do without you?”

 

-x-

Finally, Ludovica reading for her dearest friend as she had always done.

-x-

 

---

 

Spoiler

ily moe ty 

[venclair 713]

Spoiler

 

 

Lady Rhea of Carrington by Victoria Kaphro c. 1825

 

· ꕥ · HER EUNOIA.

 

By mid-spring, the field was a palette of greens, one that could impress any master of old. A lonesome figure wandered the bounty of clover and sun-strengthened grass — a pungent scent of faint ichor exuding from her. The bustling of children had broken her trance, greeting them with a bellowing voice. Trailing along with the eldest lady of the Carrington household, Victoria regarded Rhea with a faint smile before vanishing into the courtyard. 

 

“I was advised by your dear sister to speak with you instead of your mother, due to her absence,” Victoria tells Mary, settling herself at a table with the woman. 

 

“I believe you two are a perfect match — perhaps teach her to read,” the d’Arkent’s smile dwindled some, “She is a charming girl, and I do love her...though she’s not the brightest.” 

 

With a tilt of her head, the corner of Victoria’s lip twitched somewhat. A concerned look was brought upon her face. “No...I believe she has potential.” The Kaphro had arose from her seat, drawling, “Rhea simply lacks support.”

 

“I agree. I believe mother fell behind once giving birth to her. You can tell due to the intelligence diminishing with the younger lot of my siblings — no matter the potential.”

 

To such, Victoria remained indifferent. She simply droned to Mary’s words, scrutinizing Rhea’s sister for a moment before wishing to be led elsewhere. That jovial morn, the small child had become her ward.

 

____________________________

𑁍

 

Attending Rhea’s woeful service, Victoria sat quietly on the frontmost pew. Giving her own eulogy, she admitted her regret and sorrow towards the young woman. To find out such a tragedy was caused through a barbaric act filled her with a foreign resentment. Rhea had, despite her inability to read at the age they met, sparked an intrigue. Victoria had seen something within the girl that she herself had not seen — an untapped potential; a possibility. She was a promise of seeing beyond the seeming. 

 

The next quiet forenoon consisted of the faint breeze, the birdsong coming so bittersweetly. Victoria mulled over how the girl would’ve enjoyed such a fine day, basking in the sun’s golden rays. Forlorn, the lady stood before her apprentice’s grave. A finger trailed against the recent etching of the headstone.

 

“How I wish,” the Rhenyar mused solemnly, grasping delicately at a glass figurine, “I could see your smile once more, chera.” Her figure lowered, giving the trinket a brief shake. It propped beside Rhea — a mare galloping in its equine beauty whilst it shone a golden light.

 

Spoiler

Despite the difficulties you may have had oocly with this character, I'm happy to see you were content with Rhea. I enjoyed the times we've role-played together, and I hope you like the painting to commemorate her : ) Love ya moe

 

[audyush 747]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

A woman, now much older than she’d care to admit, froze as she caught word of a tragic event. The news of a death - the death of a friend. “It can no’ be…” she’d mumble to herself. All too familiar with death, the Illatian crumbled upon the sofa of her shared home on Marshal Lane, where she grew up. She’d have, of course, grabbed a bottle of liquor, no glass was needed for such an occasion though. Falling back in her ways, she’d drown herself - if not but an attempt to drown out her feelings. 

 

=+=
 

From the day they’d have met, Natasha had always warned the young d’Arkent girl of the dangers of the world. 

 

“Did vy get vyr toy?” a young Natasha, only but a young girl then, asked as she’d run into a friend she’d met but the previous Saint’s Day. 

 

“Ai, the boy with the yellow hair gottit for me~ And I got this too!” Rhea held up a golden teddy bear, shaking it around for a brief moment as if it was the most prized possession she could ever hold, “He's fluffy- Oh! Ahhhm, did you ever get a coh-jee-noh?” She switches the topic in a flash, remembering Natasha’s words from their previous encounter. 

 

“Neit. Vy have’a no’ found ‘em yet…” she explained in turn, a discouraged sound in her voice, but hopeful still. 

 

=+=

 

“She died too young… had ‘er whole life ahead of’a ‘er.” Natasha thought, doing nothing but ponder as she sipped from the bottle. 

 

=+=

 

She always was an innocent girl. From the day the two had met, up until their final exchange.

 

“Well, I'll hellp you look! Maybe he's juss hiding!” she had tried to assure the d’Amato, always kind in that way, but she was yet to believe the girl’s words.

 

“Neit… Vy do no’ think 'e is’a hiding, vy have’a no’ seen 'em in years now,” Natasha spoke in her horrid accent, “But vy think vy may know where 'e is” Natasha glanced up and down the street for anyone passing by or listening in, preparing to whisper to the d'Arkent. “Vy think 'e was’a kidnapped…” The Illatian told, always one to fear the worst. 

 

Rhea, in her young age, was of course confused by such a phrase; “Wass that mean? He's taking a nap?” the girl questioned, curious as always, but hidden of the harsh realities of the world around her, as most could only hope their child would.

 

Frustrated by the child’s ignorance, Natasha shook her head and let out a sigh, but still explained her words to the girl, “Neit…it means ‘e was taken away by’a stranger”

 

=+=

 

“How could this have happened?” Natasha all but thought. “Vy told ‘er… Vy told her not to trust ‘em.” she hissed aloud- growing angry then. 

 

=+=

 

“Oh, thass bad! Uhmmm,” Rhea announced as if such wasn’t obvious, “Maybe we should teeelll… Oh! My gray-granpa, he's wit the tall soldier guys, maybe we can assk them!”

 

“Neit, neit..” the d’Amato glanced around again, “Vy do no' know who vy can’a trust… and vy should no’ trust ‘em either!” the then-paranoid child placed a finger up to her own mouth as if to tell the girl to keep quiet of their secret. “All of ‘em could be'a part of et”

 

=+=

 

“Vy were familia… vy did no’ deserve to go.” the woman whispered finally as the alcohol consumed her, drifting her off to sleep upon her own sofa. 
 

Spoiler

 

 

Thank you for all our RP together on these two characters, Mona. From coughing with her mouth open to walking around Providence with no shoes on her feet, Rhea was, and always will be, such a wonderful character, and a blast to interact with! Can't wait to have new RP adventures with you! 

 

 

[Melpomenne 2032]

A distressed woman rocked to and fro in a chair, reading over a missive for the tenth time that hour.

 

reserved.2

Spoiler

 

 

[Goon 1614]

Spoiler

 

 

【   | | |   】

 

1 8 1 4,  T H E  5 T H   O F   S U N ‘ S   S M I L E 

 

Holed away in a nook’s cranny of an office- the then-young Cosimo Antony Falcone combed frustrated fingers through his shortened curls. Documents strewn sloppily against his desk, the Illatian murmured beneath his breath as he skimmed over their contents- frantically shuffling through different sheets until he settled on a particular sheet, perhaps the one he was looking for.

 

A piercing creak of the home’s front door then echoed throughout the house- eventually bouncing its way to disrupt the sound of rustling papers in that office. The sound coaxed a whipping of Cosimo’s head- a paranoid stare against the room’s door.

 

"Ludovica? Is that you?" He called in a query, unbreaking his tense stare against the door until he heard a return.

 

Despite the girl’s desperate attempt at keeping her steps silent, her brother kept out a keen ear. "Si! Iss me, Cosimo!" Chirped the young Falcone then, wincing whilst inching forth.

 

Letting loose a small sigh of relief upon hearing the familiar childish voice, he shook his head, attentions returned to the myriad of legal documents. A lingering silence before the man decided to let out once more a call; "Come, Ludo."

 

And she obliged- any muttering beneath her breath would go unheard to the Illatian man, but the heavy thuds of her trailing the stairs certainly did not.

 

"Si, Cosi?" The young girl queried from the doorframe, sheepishly looking to her older brother through a head tilted.

 

"Come in, Ludovica- sit." He returned in his typical reticence, a hand gestured to the empty chair that was perched before his desk. He had not long broken concentration from those sheets, taking a quill in hand to begin a scrawling against one of them.

 

Ludovica obliged, once more, sitting. Her feet swayed from the chair, palms clenched at the sides- only watching silently and sheepishly still, awaiting him to speak. 

 

And it would be a moment longer before Cosimo did, finishing his scrawlings with a quiet murmuring aloud before setting that quill within its well- eyes brought up to meet against Ludovica’s. He held no discernable emotion, paternal in his stare. "Ludo- I am beginning to fear you are keeping bad company." Stern in his utterance, though his volume was hushed to match the quiet of the study.

 

Ludovica’s features scrunched slightly with protest. She huffed, shaking her head once as she made to rebut, "What do y’mean, Cosi?"

 

"Your friend. Rhea?" He chided in return, squinting, as if expecting her to know this was to be his response. "She is a poor influence to you, despite her familial wealth." A nagging stare held against the younger Falcone- softened as it returned to the sheet he wrote upon, quill in hand once more.
 

Ludovica quickly grew defensive- silently so. Brows pinching down as she stammered, a poor attempt to influence her brother’s thoughts - though she knew it was to no use. Instead, her maw snapped shut with a pointed grunt.

 

"And if you are to grow to be the lady I know you will- ensure you do not fall victim to the consequences of her antics." Dour in his tone- though, quiet was the study, quiet was his voice. Hissing in a quick amendment, "And your own- non devi lanciare un'eco, si?"

 

The young girl sank in her seat, a pout pressing marking her features. Her shoulders rose to a single shrug, obligatorily nodding thereafter. "A’ight, Cosi.." Without another word, Ludovica rose from the seat situated just across from her brother, stomping her way out of the study.

 

A gentle huff then through his nostrils, the man brushed the tip of his quill against the well’s edge, murmuring something to the likes of ‘troublesome children.’ 

 

【   | | |   】

 

1 8 2 7,  T H E  4T H   O F   S U N ‘ S   S M I L E 

 

Cosimo never took the chance to discover who Rhea really was, nor did he ever really try to understand her importance to his babiest sister. Dismissing the noblewoman as only a ruffian child with familial claims- he seemed to have forgotten he, too, was an uncouth youth- in questionable company, no less.

 

Perhaps that is what had driven his aversion to the young woman; while he never forbade the two’s company, he was unimpressed. Unimpressed of the woman who helped mold his sister’s sense of self, unimpressed of the woman would have surely beaten him in chess. Unimpressed the woman who did much more than he would ever know— arguably more for his sister than he ever would. 

 

Unimpressed with Rhea Alexandria d'Arkent; the woman who deserved a better end. 

 

【   | | |   】

 

Spoiler

 

RHEA ALEXANDRA D'ARKENT (circa. 1827)

 

Rhea was a great character. Flawed in the right ways, an evident growth from childhood to early adulthood, and a... fitting death?

Rhea deserved more than anyone would give her credit for. Bravo to you Mona for playing her so well.

 

[kujo_ 2510]

A gaunt boy, now a man, sits at a desk littered with white powder. He frantically scribes, the scratches of quill on parchment echo against the walls of his room. He dared not look over his shoulder, for the eyes of the portrait that hung behind him pressed a discomforting presence.

 

It was there that he sat for hours, the closest he had felt to sober in a long time. 

[Taketheshot 3834]

Joseph d'Azor frowns as he reads the missive "May GOD protect her in her journey to the seven skies." Joseph would hand the missive to his dearest sister @PrettyCuteAnna at that he bowed his head to offer a prayer. 

[Benjikhei 698]

And so it came to pass, that Rhea Alexandrina d’Arkent left the world.

This was, by all standards- heartbreaking for one Lord Beryl Jasper Carrington. Rhea’s Uncle. Mentor. And a longtime believer.

 

A believer in her. He believed she could do the impossible, He believed she would one day live to triumph over the greatest pioneers of modern science, art, literature or whatever field she chose to pursue. He believed all these things because he saw the spark in her, the spark of determination which lights the fire of action, and in turn gives the greatest actions meaning. He saw her future as a tapestry of success, joy, happiness, family and wealth.

 

And yet that future would never come to pass, because she was plucked too soon. And in this final act, even from beyond the grave, even from death- she still did something extraordinary.

She made Beryl Carrington cry.

 

And ai, he did cry for hours on end, weep, sob, bawl, howl for his lost niece, not even his own children could comfort him from this loss. Because she was like another daughter to him. And there ended that precious emotion, strewn across a cold floor in pieces. Such a shame.

 

Still, he held hope they’d meet again.

And with that, he stood to his feet. Dusted himself off. And collected his scientific equipment.

And he made his way back to his desk, and continued studying.

No longer for him. But for her.

For the Impossible Girl.

 

[Mannyy 982]

       Wilhelm would let out heavy breaths, lying awake in his bed at night as he thought about the whole ordeal. He tossed and turned, despite Rhea having not stayed there in quite some time, Carrington rang more silent than usual those nights. Perhaps it was the discovery of the young d'Arkent's severed head upon the entry way. The blood stain he would see every time he paced into his halls. The Baron could hardly sleep before the event, one could only realize how little he got now.

 

       During those dreadful nights, all he could think of was all the things he'd done wrong. He had torn his family apart single-handedly, recalling when even Rhea showed disdain for him. She asked upon him if he would do what he had done to their brother to her someday, if the situation was different. He of course responded with the obvious- That he would never, that she was not one who had wronged him. Hypocritical. He looks back realizing how wary his family was of their future. Deep down Wilhelm certainly knew he would never do such to Rhea, he couldn’t Rhea was nothing but good.

 

       But a few better memories would drift in, the day him and Rhea sat in the gardens. It was all foggy now, but he remembers that it was about marriage, and love. He told her that any guy would certainly be lucky to have and- she could have anyone she wanted, or not if she so chose. In honesty Wilhelm always admired Rhea for her ability to take her own steps, her own leaps and bounds. She was tied down by nothing, she didn’t rely on him as some of the others had, as everyone else had. He remembered the sickening scene of when he discovered her body, shivering, shaking it away. With no sign of rest in sight, Wilhelm stood from his bed and walked out onto the balcony, listening to the sounds of the night lake.

[ncarr 2806]

Mary lays atop the table within her office, her head hanging over the end of such as she looks toward the door- sitting ajar. Her hair falls restless as she lies silent, looking out into the hall where a figure once stood. The voice of the ghastly figure rings out in her head still- eerily familiar. The woman inhales sharply as her head tilts to the side, her mind racing with ideas of the family she once had. All had fallen apart right before her eyes: her brother; a stirrer of constant drama, Charlotte; always locked within her new husband's estate, Coraline; missing for years with no trace or sign of return, and now Rhea had left her too. 

 

With a swift inhale the woman shoots up from her prior position, now standing atop the table with her hands clenched into fists. A single tear forms in her eye as she continues to look upon the spot the apparition had stood with furrowed brows, jumping down from the couch with a huff thereafter. 

She does not cry for the loss of her sister, instead for the lack of connection the two had in her life. Others celebrate the life their sibling led, though the woman had only regrets for the life of this stranger she is lucky to call her sister. She had known any lady of the court better than her sister, and for this the woman had a pit within her heart. She held the weight of her sister's death on her own shoulder's, having refused tea from the innocent girl only months ago.

[bickando 3967]

 

[RaindropsKeepFalling 886]

It wasn't fair.

 

She was right. It wasn't fair.

 

Nothing was.

 

Anton couldn't say he'd known her like Ludo; he couldn't say he'd even known her well. So, there at that somber spot, at that funeral, he hung his weary head: o so silent. He observed from afar as he always had, and wouldn't dare shed a tear. He wouldn't weep. He watched. She was a soul taken too soon. 

 

Since he was a mere boy, therein a man edging the threshold of age, approaching thirty, he'd flourished such a disdain for people alike her. Nobles: living their little lives with irrelevant reflections- distractions from the inherent truth, so easy to ignore. Some would hail him a hypocrite.

 

Rhea was different.

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

 

In his younger, formidable years, perhaps he'd gazed across the girl as a friend of his family; nothing more, nothing less. However, he came to understand her, and even empathize since. Two opposites from the poles: the enthused optimist, and the cynic. Her death came o so suddenly, and it wasn't fair. Flickering, fleeting instances came and went with apparent joy as a passerby: shooting stars of youth. How he wished to hold on and linger with the immortal impulsiveness of youth and play, and whim. He couldn't shake his discernible dread.

 

Privy people had fallen like dominos, death after death, and bless-ed moments bygone were mere, vague memories.  The man paced across a room, up and down, back and forth, circling within his own psyche for a reason. Simplicity was so frustrating.

 

And yet, throughout all his aimless musings, he had a job. The perpetrator of such a senseless end for such a sweet girl. If it was all for naught, if he knew naught- if life was a con artists construed sham... well, that must have been true.  Malaise overtook him, and Anton lament. If only life were placed out so simply atop a checkerboard. Instead, he fixated unto the questions without answer, nor meaning.

 

The man grew mad, and reminisced, soon to fall fate to a restless sleep: the first in a long time. He could lie he'd dreamt, when he only thought of that irking anthem of a why...

 

[amyselia 2962]

Claude Élisabeth laments for the Carrington she'd never met, the afamed Rhea, whose associated words she can hear now despite never having heard her voice: Don't waste your time on this earth. Time, it can be taken from you in the flicker of a moment.

Awaiting her cousin Helena's wake from an otherwise fatal arrow shot to the lung, the girl now and forever will know the truth behind those words.

 

[aldskar 842]

While a certain Basrid had never been the pious one of her family, no, that title fell to her aunt Helena, she felt a yearning the night of her childhood friends funeral. Perhaps it was the nature of such a death, or perhaps she was simply clearing a guilty conscience, though while collected friends and family of the deceased followed outside for the burial, she would remain inside, her palms together in silent, prolonged, prayer..