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A Woman Scorned: The Grief of a Lover


ncarr
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Josephine Augusta curses the murderous Mary Casimira, who slew her beloved brother in his own home. "May she rot in the Void-- no prayers for her," she hisses.

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Joseph d'Azor returned to his home within the crumbling ruins of Old Providence as he sat down upon his chair, the house silent and empty as the caked dried blood of Mary Othaman and Philip Aurelian was plastered upon his body. He reached for another bottle of gin from the cabinet to find it empty from recent days. He looked from his window to the palace. "She needs a trial!" He claimed as Velu the elf wished to blow Mary's head apart. Despite her crimes she deserved such as a noble of the Empire. But such was not the case. The Emperor demanded that she die, he would not let her die a death of suffering. 

 

As Joseph carried the body of his childhood friend to the estates of Carrington where he buried her. He remembered the words he spoke to her in the tavern earlier. "To brighter days...." He muttered softly.

 

Joseph looked to the palace as his thoughts flashed back to his home. "He....made me kill my friend..." The man choked back tears as his head fell to the table, he looked to his left and his right and his home was empty as was his city. "Where is Providence now...."   

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The Princess admired the d'Arkent, offering condolences as she hung her head - a sign of respect from the Rochefort.

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"Piety lost is sin without virtue. They both succumbed to the wickedness of Iblees' call. Let them suffer in the depths, for that is where adulterers belong." Claude said without remittance, the memory of the Madame who had raised her souring by the minute as she thought of the bastard child, who lay in wait to be loved by neither of his parents for even a moment again.

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The world was spinning that saints day, violently. People died, argued, spat, and ran. Fire burned fields and winds snapped trees in half. In the midst of it all seemed to stand Maisie, holding yet another notice of death. "By god."

 

It was true, she wasn't close to her cousin. Yet, this sort of death seemed... fitting, earned. She had done much good and bad in her life, but Maisie was never one to talk badly about the dead. Signing her Lorraine and keeping Mary in her prayers.

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Princess Juliya, firm friends with Mary since childhood, lulled in her husband's estate. Surrounded by only cliffs and roses of red, unparalleled shock became of her once it was certain of her fate and thus her actions. "I didn't want to believe it," she speaks to herself, "So sick she had to have been. A certain betrayal to the Empire!"

And yet, if the matter was so concerning to Juliya, then why was a smile looming 'pon her lips..?

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Lorina Isabel grieved alone for a woman not so different from her now. She wanted to be angry for what Mary had left her behind for, but now she carried that same rage for a king of her own she o’so idolized for some time.
 

Mamej..Lorina laid back to admire the stars her mother pushed her towards as a child, tears flooding sunkissed cheeks. “Vy and me are not so different now.. We vill meet again someday.. I hope.”

 

 

Edited by Itz_Cookie
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Spoiler

 

 

     Viathan, her husband, pops open a bottle of champagne as he smiles the sun's smile. "Hark, Godan! I am free from that witch's unholy grasp!" he shouted aloud, likely waking his poor family that slumbered within their manor. Foam gathered and pooled over the rim of the glass, soiling his gloves and turning the papers stacked atop the nightstand into a soggy, sopping mess. "The cheating MUTT is dead, at long last! The beslubbering, doghearted, rank, hell-hated HOUND she was! I knew it!"

 

Sliding off from the comforter and onto the wooden floor with a 'thud', he knelt down to inspect himself in the mirror, preening and tidying himself like an exotic bird. Tears of joy crept down his cheeks and his lips were curled back into the most joyous grin as he donned his best suit and the most exorbitant jewels Valles could offer like a child whose parents just gave them their first allowance. 

 

"I can live at last! Oh . . . My dear,"  he sniffled, looking down toward his pocket watch. A man's image was roughly cut and glued into the hollow face of the trinket, himself beside him on some rocky coast. At last, it seemed the situation had finally dawned upon him.  As he trotted toward the door, a low tune escaped from his lips, humming as he walked away from their keep. 

 

"♫♪ Hello, my old heart, how have you been?
Are you still there inside my chest?
I've been so worried, you've been so still -- 
Barely beating at all. 

Hello, my old heart, it's been so long, since I've given you away!
And every day, I add another stone
To the walls I built around you
To keep you safe. ♪♫"

 

And there, before Valles, sat a pyre with Mary's portrait at its centre.

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Anne Josephine clutched her Lorraine neckless as the Baron of Carrington announced the news of Lady Mary's passing within Savoyard Court. Lady Anne silently wept as her extended family swore their loyalty to the Philip III.

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The Countess of Temesch prayed for the soul of Mary Casmira - indubitably lost and perhaps yearning but never wrong. Two lives lost, and yet only one was truly guiltless. 

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Somewhere, deep within a cathedral, a woman dressed in mauve attire prayed. For any who attempted to see her at this time, they were unable to receive a response from her as she remained within the pews, reciting the Holy Scrolls and prayers, for the sake of humanity in these unprecedented times.

 

Anastasia of Kositz had known the former Governess since before she could recall, yet hadn't known what became of Lady Mary in the latter years. Although the actions of her former mentor disturbed her so, she prayed - like all other mortals - that her soul may make it to the seven skies in spite of her actions. 

Edited by Eryane
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