A DOMESTIC INCURSION

[milkyi 1985]

A DOMESTIC INCURSION

 

[!] TW ; some graphic material

 

Evangéline sat quietly before the fire, her thoughts drifting with every crackle of the flame, her mind cast heavenward, shifting through melancholic images of her view from the clinic. Now here she lay, safe and comforted by the soft cushions of her Orenian abode. Here in her peaceful homeland, she considered the strife and instability that had occurred last Saint’s day.

 

A rap on the door in the dark of night, whispers of a simple “Who’s there?” sounded from behind it.

 

Another knock, Evangéline stared bewilderedly at the entryway, “Hello?” She began to inch further away from the sinister guest that awaited her from the other side, “W- Who’s there?” The girl stammered with a query, after a long while of silence an unfamiliar voice resounded through her door, 

 

“Do you know of Lord Matar?” It set forth, the forbidding tone of the man continued: “Would you like to convert? If you would like to know Matar personally, please open your door. . .” The offer was practically declined almost immediately, a certain hum escaped the adolescent’s lips, she knew she had no interest in any other God besides her own, “Please open this door.” It implored placidly. Albeit muffled behind the closed door, these pleas were swiftly denied.

 

“Open it, open the door.” He ordered before the youthful girl had time to react, his knocks turned to pounding, louder and louder they rumbled and shook the doorframe. . . CRACK! . . . The previously locked door was suddenly burst wide open by the ominous figure which loomed at its front, tall, pale, donned in blue, and freakishly gaunt. A woman masked in crimson silks followed in tandem. “I will show you Matar!” The Elf who was armed to the teeth yet thin as a rake charged toward her, swinging at her neck aimlessly - missing her nape entirely.

 

The unarmed and fearful Evangéline still pleaded helplessly with eyes wide as dinner plates, “Please! Put your sword down!” . . . SLICE! . . His blade carved through her lower stomach, tearing through layers of cloth in its wake. She clutched her gut with desperation and pain all rushing in at once in waves, upon her collapse to the floor.

 

Cries of victory erupted throughout the city, muffled in the distance. They laughed, sang out, and all the like to celebrate their achievement against the enemy in the war at the Battle of Cape Whitcombe.“God, save me!” Evangéline cried out through the agony of her accumulating wounds, screaming over the joyousness of the people outside. 

 

“Do you need guards?” Boomed out the voice of the empress, a voice not far away yet distant still. The continued screams and cries must have been enough of an answer. A collection of muffled voices could be heard outside, followed by the broken door bursting open once again There stood the Lord Draskovic with steel drawn, trailed by the empress. He gave but a nod to the monarch, and she drew her sword. In an instant, steel clashed as both the Lord and Empress lunged forth. The fight ensued beyond the doors of the home and along the walkways of the canal. 

 

Soon did the fight return to the confines of the Halcourt manor, wherein nearly an instant the man was detained - yet the woman nowhere in sight. Bound by ropes, he was dragged upstairs and an influx of men and women hurried into the home with assurances of their medical assistance.

 

There amid the floor, strewn about and laid in a pool of her crimson ichor was Evangéline. Unconscious and silent as the dead. Those who offered their help - their blurred faces coming in brief spurts of consciousness - whisked her away in a hurry across the city. The blurs grew darker and darker until there was nothing left but the voices of those panicking around her. Silence pursued, then nothing. 

 

Yet come the next morning she was awake again, alive. 

 

[Franczhiz 4437]

"Quoi de la f-ck?" Matthieu Henri arched a brow

[Mannyy 982]

"Oh dear..." Croaked the elder and sickly Baroness of Halcourt from within her room. "Who is this?"

[ncarr 2806]

“Oh no!” shouted Sophie. Given the recent events one might think it was out of shock for the baronial heiress’ situation, but the Pruvian youth had only dropped her flower pot, causing dirt to spill all over the ground. The girl continued her life, none the wiser of the break in! 

[Eryane 3698]

To Her Ladyship, Evangeline Halcourt de Artois, Lady Concierge of the Aster Court, 

 

In hopes that you have recovered well, your health swiftly restoring, I write to you to inform you that both of your attackers have been swiftly executed on behalf of their horrific crimes. However, I shall not be gruesome in detailing their deaths nor in dragging out this letter on the matter any further. They have been dealt with - sentenced to death for their attempt upon your life. 

 

When I first traversed into the lands of the empire after having not been there since I was but a babe, I was captured and held ransom with my life on the line. Only a child, this terrified me then and swept into my nightmares for months to come. I know that this is nothing unknown to you, for the turmoil that you have already endured and suffered in the event itself and from the memories remaining thereafter. I will not promise for it to simply disappear, for all to be well and better in times to come, yet I do assure you that it will fade as do all wounds and aches with the passing weeks and months. This will only strengthen you for the years to come. These terrible occurrences must be turned around, to be used for your betterment instead of pulling you into a dark lull of trauma and horror. 

 

In honor of your efforts in the palace, your family’s efforts to the empire, and your resilience to survive through one of the most horrendous attempts upon your own life, I wish to further extend an invitation for a dinner between the House of Halcourt and Novellen. This, of course, remains dependent on your own well being and health. Please write to me when you can, so we may arrange this alongside the Lady Chamberlain Odessa MacPherson. 

 

Continue to remain resilient in the face of darkness and death. 

 

SIGNED,

Her Imperial Majesty, Anastasya of Kositz, Empress consort of the Holy Orenian Empire, Duchess consort of Furnestock

[6xdestroyer 1610]

Varon remembers hogtying the man like this: