Simplicity

[Eryane 3698]

SIMPLICITY

https://youtu.be/o-BbeLmOAYE

 

“Oh, Milena!” She cried out in frustration and threw her head into her hands. A desk of disorganized organized papers sprawled out all before her. Papers were neatly together in piles yet the piles were not neat. There was only one paper that interested her out of them all, however. One with scribbles and crossed out stanzas, mishaps and marks. “Think! Think! There must be something...” 

 

There was no plausible way for the Lady Dobrov to focus on her poetic writing as her mind swirled and swiveled with a million and one thoughts. Was someone standing behind her? She glanced, and no one was there. Even when she had assured her mind resolutely there was none else but herself in the room, the figure lingered in her peripheral vision. Who was it? A voice muttered a name, or a phrase; she could not understand. Paranoia, anxiety, and endless worries. What shadows did she see lurking so near and who was that woman’s voice that called out to her? If only she were to glance over her shoulder one more time and see what it was–

 

Crows flew about Milena in her chambers and cawed ‘til her ears rang and her head ached. She flailed her arms, yet none of her efforts seemed to stop the unrelenting black birds while she coughed, coughed, coughed. “Please!” She begged her mind to give her freedom from what it tormented with. “Please, please!” She pleaded again as her headaches worsened and her mind pounded. The woman scrambled out of the chair and curled up into a ball, holding herself as though she were a child all over again. 

 

A figure came into view out of the blurriness. He wore black robes and a golden Husaryia cross dangled from his neck. The aura about him was unlike any other; warm, comforting, goodness. When Milena looked again, her brother Dima stood before her. “Pray in the morning, pray in the evening. When your mind begins to turn against you, pray to Saint Julia for guidance.” 

 

And so she prayed and prayed and prayed from where she laid on the creaky wooden floors until all the crows were gone. The air revitalized her lungs again as breath swept into them in sharp inhales. Her hands pressed into the ground where she remained for all the time that had passed her and she sought those poems again with a cleared mind. 

 

From broken lens and obscure clouded views, 

A girl sat quiet in the row of pews.

She was not alone, she had known this well

For their eyes were watching 

And the world was stalking.

 

Yet all the wandering glances saw not

Of what lies beyond the blackened curtains.

Was it too heavy to lift the fabric?

Did they dare to bring a hand forth to try?

 

One err step out of place, a word said wrong,

As simple as a walk if not seen strong. 

She was wary, breathed when given the chance

For their eyes were watching

And the world was stalking. 

 

Although she had seen smiles, heard laughter too,

Through a broken lens was how they were viewed.

 

 

---

 

Her dreams were not of greatness. She did not want a crown or a title to hold. Wicked night terrors of realism from her tormented mind allowed her no chance to have desires of dancing with a prince. Merely, she wanted to dance. 

 

Cough, cough, cough. All throughout the night she coughed until she could cough no more. Her body seized up when her lungs could take no more and she rasped out what air was left. 

                                                                                Cough

                                                                                              Cough

                                                                                                           Cough

 

Milena’s frail hand reached for a handkerchief she had specially crafted herself in her bedridden state. On it were the names of all her children sewed in cursive; Isa, Alina, Eirene, Safiya. Designs of vines and flowers, chrysanthemums and roses, were sprawled throughout the fabric. When her coughs came again, she could not bring herself to taint such a precious item with her sickened bouts. She sought another to her luck and wheezed with what little strength she had left in her. 

 

The sickness had taken her for months. In the beginning, she ridiculed herself for her horrid lack of duty as a mother ‘til she accepted, as she always had, that some occurrences in life were out of her control. She could not bring such cruel blame upon herself for what was not her doing. Men and women of her past and present walked at the end of her bed and around her room in a slow promenade. 

 

A boy who once dreamed of being a knight

Grey in attire and in his paled face too

Had he ever the chance to know his might?

 

A girl who dreamt of being a pianist

And perhaps the finest in all the land

Had she once the chance to know her talent?

 

A boy who she would never truly know

Who had shared her blood and had shared her name

Had they once the chance to know each other?

 

A girl who dreamed of jewels and dances

Who was the most beautiful of them all 

Had she once the chance for those romances?

 

A boy who once dreamed of goodness and peace

Stolen from the living world far too soon

From above had he seen kindness increase?

 

Foggy figures dissipated into unrecognizable transparencies, and then they were no more. Red dots lined the handkerchief when she coughed again. A sharp sting engulfed her entire body and sent her consciousness into the crevices of her mind. She had seen the snakes strike at the perched crows for years, hearing all the horrendous hisses it had to resound. With her eyes closed, she could see her family all standing together as one in their blackened irregular choice of attire; her father, her mother, and her five siblings. Together they had endured the rumors, the harsh words, the sickening accusations against their family– as one.  

 

She had made a family of her own and danced all she had wanted to dance. Milena had spent her life simply, with a good partner and children who prided her so. What more could she ask for? What more could she dream of? When Milena closed her eyes, she knew the answers for those distressing queries and for many more.

 

A smile remained on Milena’s lips ‘til the last breath faded out. There were puffy pink and orange clouds ahead, a beautiful seven skies for miles upon miles when she opened her eyes again. 

 

Spoiler

Thank you to @Lhindir_and @Axelufor giving me a chance to play a Carrion-Tuvyic again. It's been a blast :]

And thank you to everyone else who was a part of this character's story (shoutout to @Nectorist @JoanOfArc @VeganWalmart @Melpomenne @Dyl). Always a blast to see where things go and all the people you will meet along the way.

 

Here are some of Milena's poems and another one I wrote not too long ago but never got around to making a full collection for:

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/200022-marusvar-a-collection-of-poetry/

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/198404-chrysanthemums-and-roses-a-collection-of-poetry/

 

Her name was Julia

From a tribe of seven thousand akin

Was the one who had called herself Julia.

Dressed was she in homespun loose linen

With a hundred colors all in concord.

 

Arrows a plenty were held on her back,

And at her hip a vivid woven sack.

 

With the bow made by her own callused hand,

She hunted throughout the grassy prairie,

Venturing all across the untouched land–

From the rolling hills to endless green plains.

 

She could name each and every beast and plant–

With an eye most keen, wise, and observant.

 

No greatness called her forth from mundane life

As she rose each morning and toiled each day,

She thought of no other than her tribe's strife

And labored 'til worries had gone astray. 

 

 

[Melpomenne 2032]

Silent, sat a young Eirene. The girl was tucked away within her dark quarters in Dobrov's manner. Numerous parchments, all crumpled and stained with different hues of yellow and the faintest rouge, laid scattered about her wooden floors. A cheek rested against the desk's top, her light cerulean hues scanned the flames dancing from afar. "Mamej," murmured the girl, a frown pressing against her, otherwise stoic, features.

[Dyl 2103]

"You will do great things," those words resounded in Isa's mind. He has just spoken to his mother, informed her of what he had done. His thoughts quickly moved to the handkerchief his mother had, he noticed it but did not pay it much attention, nor did he notice his the state of his mother's health.

 

"Imma.... but we just spoke." His voice began to falter, then his mind rebounded back to his mother's words to him.

 

"You will do great things,"

 

"Ai Imma," the tears coming from his eyes dried up, his mind focused on making his mother proud. He had no time for tears or sadness. 

[Nectorist 12874]

Sigismund, once a lively, joyous child, had his dreams ripped from him at an early age. He was not to be a knight, he was not to be a statesman, he was not to live a happy life. What hope he could muster was shattered again at the death of his first wife, then his child right after. His mother had come next, then his father just after. His youngest daughter's kidnapping left him little more than a recluse. Each time he had prayed that he would be given cause to smile again, to feel his heartstrings twinge and let his anger subside, life had shown him why he would always be bitter. His dear sister's death, a cruel event which took one of the last few he cared for from this world, would prove too much for the despairing count.

 

That night, there would be two fresh graves resting beneath the walls of Dobrov's manor. 

[JoanOfArc 4604]

Dima sat by his sister as she awoke under God's throne as the sunrays filled the vastness of the plane. For once, the ruskan priest did not say a single word. The only feeling he had at the moment was a silent joy-- a silence that did not honestly last long as he flung himself to hug his bestfriend. "You listened! You listened! Praise God unto the highest! And I missed you brother." He shouted entered the Skies as well.

 

Spoiler

nectorist won't look in here but i think you're cooler than him and he's clearly a budget eryane.

 

:)

 

[zuziee 4004]

Maisie d'Arkent stood quietly in her study, the first of the woman her age has died was all she could think.

 

Time was running out...

[Tigergiri 3073]

Elisabeth hearing of the news as she passed the archway of dobrov. It’s been so long since she stepped into her home. Blue eyes sway and lock onto the bridge where she first met her aunt. roses and chrysanthemums were all she knew. Tears clouded her eyes. “I’ll meet you again Aunt Milena. Save me a spot next to papa.” 

[Proddy 2415]

Spoiler

 

 

BABYLON WAGES WAR ON BABYLON

BABYLON VANQUISHES THE EVIL OF BABYLON

BABYLON FALLS AND BABYLON RISES.

 

Seated alone within a musky old tavern, feeling more alone than he ever had throughout his life, the news would spread to a decrepit and tainted figure - a man long forgotten by the cruel fates of time and circumstance, only a slithering vestige of his humanity remaining intact and pertinent. His virulent green eyes awash with a deep mirth as the tidings reach his ear - cracked lips upturning into a crooked, horrifying grin.

 

"She's dead... she is... truly... dead." cometh hither than voice in a cold, resounding motion. Open palm clutching at his chest as a slow cackle would roll forth from his being - quiet and mellow at first, his cackiling would steadily roil and grow into bouts of hysterical laughter and mania.

 

SHE IS BANISHED FROM THIS WORLD

SHE PERISHED IN PAIN

AND HERE I STILL STAND.

 

Corrupted bellows of laughter drain away the night, but as the elusive stranger would step outside and peer to the dawning sky, a tinge of sorrow would fill his core. Fragmented memories flood through his brain. broken from the cumbersome annals of time.

 

Of a love lost, and never recovered.

Of possibilities extinguished, never to return.

Of a legacy once almighty, crumbled into dust.

 

His joy turned to ashes in his mouth. For Milena Ipera had been granted the sweet release of death, and he was cursed to live... forevermore.

[veganwalmart 1059]

A sickening, bloodcurdling scream resonated within the halls of Woldzmir Manor as Alina Basrid hopelessly clung to her mother's wilted frame. As family, attendants and nannies gathered round the girl and her exanimate mother, she could only weep. She held her mother's mocha mother's cocoa-tinted locks in her hands, feeling each tuft fall through her fingers as though they were sand. That hair - so like her own - that reminder that Alina was her mother's spitting image, and not only in appearance; Milena's views, her sunny disposition, her passion for etiquette, and most of all her kindness had seeped into her eldest daughter. Alina, in life, was a breathing celebration of Milena, in death. Alina would not yet recognize this; in truth, she wouldn't for years to come. All she knew at that moment was that the light in her life had just been snuffed out as a candle in rain.

 

All night, she wept and wept until her voice was hoarse and her sun-kissed cheeks stained red with tears, and still she wept more. Even as her mother's body was wrenched from her tiny, helpless arms and the room was soaked in darkness, Alina stayed in Milena's chambers, grasping for any proof that it was all a dream. As the sun rose over Dobrov, the Basridi girl was found curled up at the foot of her mother's desk, with only a knitted handkerchief and a piece of parchment, its ink mere hours old, to shelter her from the biting cold.

[sergisala 3451]

"A brave and just orenian woman that always seeked the betterment of the Empire. She shall be missed." Sir Charles Galbraith would mutter to himself after recalling the time he spent with Lady Milena Carrion-Tuvyic to prepare the trial against Robert Helvets.