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And so it goes.

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Olivia wasn’t perfect if that was even a thing. She had failed one too many times and it had become incredibly apparent at that point.


Olivia was a canonist – once Red Faith – who had committed many sins in the past, ones far overlooked from the past and others haunting her every sleep.


Her clan was dying, or perhaps it was dead already and she was too busy in her childhood haze to realise.


Olivia had loved so many people and so many people didn’t love her, she would wrap her arms around people without realising – she was choking them.



“Vy will be a coward - a craven. Leaving behind all vyr problems.” 


That’s what he said when she informed him that instead of continuing on she would instead die. No, drown. 


“I can’t swim.” 


At least the water was consistent, a constant sheet of ice spread across the lake, forbidding anyone who wished to swim within its depths. Olivia would look outside her balcony over the city and compare the ice to crystals as they shimmered in the moonlight. 


“It’s over.” 


So many people trusted her, no she couldn’t go that far, no one could trust her. Not now. Olivia didn’t ask for much but she also didn’t give much. Olivia simply existed, that was the best way to put it. Olivia existed.


“I’m a criminal to them.”


What was it? Was it watching her father die in front of her eyes? Was it the number of times things failed for her? Suddenly she began blaming Norland, how could they let this happen to her? 


A child.


“Put a sword in my hand and you may end me yourself, just like how my papej went out.” She asked the man who had stumbled into Alisgrad that eve, watching as his hands dripped of blood, sword in hand.


Olivia wasn’t scared for once, in fact, she was hopeful.


Olivia was a coward, she couldn’t see it to the very end, of course, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t see her trial, she wouldn’t see herself being called guilty or innocent because she was a coward.


“Have vy realised vyr wrongings now that death stares down upon vy?”


“No. Even now … I don’t.”


Olivia lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a distant look “If I had friends, we could’ve been gossiping.” She notes sadly to thin air, it was always to thin air.


Olivia stood opposite of him, hands gripping her dress as he approached with a sword in hand, “Six years. All to end like this, is that how it shall be?” She stood there for a while, smiling as tears ran down her cheeks.


“It shall.” He answers before plunging his sword into her gut swiftly, making a quick attempt to lay her against the bannister slowly before ripping the embedded sword from her abdomen.


The woman faltered slightly as the sword pierced her stomach and blood began to ooze from the wound, she always wondered how it would feel to meet fate's end. Except she would be a liar to say she expected it to be this way.


“Have vy any regrets, Olivia? Do vy realise them now? Now that death comes knocking, the clock starts ticking and it all hits vy at once? Do vy have a single thought now?” He pauses, his voice cracking.


Olivia simply shakes her head at him, a weak smile on her face as she looks up towards him, “I do - some. Though, I suppose it’s too late for that.” She managed to say before squeezing her eyes shut and clutching her abdomen in pain as shaky breaths released from her. Final breaths.


Olivia looks at her cousin, enveloping him in a hug. He loved her so much, more than anyone she’s ever known “Ciaran…if I ever die, I want you to have everything I own!” She didn’t allow him to protest but she listened to the way he said “But you won’t die before me.” She nodded along with his words “You’re right, I won’t.”


The man stepped towards Olivia looking down at her, his once uncaring expression turned to pure disgust as he looked upon her “Return to flame, for there was not a drop of Canonist blood. Ever.” His words were harsh as he stepped in launching a kick towards her chest in an attempt to send her flying over the bannister to her doom.


The small princess was kicked, landing heavily on the floor below in a pool of blood. No more words escaped from her, not even a breath as she stills. Olivia Freysson Ruric was dead.


Olivia stood outside the weapons shop with her father, her hand clasping his. She was five. “I don’t like them…they’re mean!” She jabs her finger towards the swords, her eyebrows furrowing “They aren’t mean Livia, they are a means of necessity.” He retorts as her bottom lip juts out, he laughs at her, picking her up and patting her head “What do you like? Would you like chocolate?” Olivia grins, nodding and so they marched towards the sweet stall.

Nothing more than a treasured memory.




OOC: Ah…and here it is. I think this was a fitting end, a casual stab to death. HAH, no but my time in playing her was magnificent starting from prof all the way to agent. Every single one of you has been amazing. Yes, it would’ve been nice seeing her trial but I think this fits her more. This isn’t my end to Norland since Astrid is a stubborn cow and insists on sticking around but this is my end to Freysson. I’ve been the absolute worst Chieftess so that’s probably the best. I love you all for making magnificent rp for me, even in her dying hours but just as I said…and so it goes.


Oh ps...thanks to you know who for helping me write this post and insulting me the entire time, a real homie >.>


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Posted (edited)

Ciaran steps outside the door to Ironguard, adjusting his pack. He’s still got to return to Alisgrad to collect his mother. Hopefully she won’t mind a small vacation there, especially since she seems to be getting along well with many of the newer Adunians. He’s heading for his horse when Lissa’s trusty blue jay flies down to land on his shoulder, a note tied to its leg. The young man of course takes the letter, thanking it with a scratch under the chin, and begins to read. 


Let’s see…hope this finds…nothing you could have…wait, what couldn’t he have done? As he reads, his face grows paler and paler. Ciaran stumbles back, landing on a bale of hay when his legs finally give out. He can’t take his eyes off the letter. There has to be a mistake! There was no way this was true! How could…how could his sweet little cousin…how could… he keeps reading it over and over, hoping there was some way he missed something, anything, but the All-Father does not answer his prayers. 


The Adunian’s arms fall to his sides, the letter dangling, barely held between two fingers. His eyes are unfocused and his breathing is shallow. He’s like that when Astrid finds him not long after receiving a similar letter. Only then does he allow the dam to break. The gentle giant first sobs, then whimpers, then finally lets out a gut-wrenching cry. He clutches the smaller woman with all his might, his wails echoing in the valley. Every so often he manages to speak, but he simply says the same thing over and over.


“She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.”


Olivia, his dear sweet little cousin, the light of his life, is dead.

Edited by PerfectLittleLady
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Remon, upon hearing the news, casts a saddened gaze towards the North.

Norland is suffering greatly.. I should speak to Ragnvald.

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Rattus out here making my jaw drop



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An aging Norlandic woman stood within her quiet tavern as she heard the news of her niece's death, her eyes narrowing a tad. A breath she didn't know she'd been holding in was released, before Rosalind Vildr spoke up. "Fuckin' FINALLY. I'm so glad outlived t' lil' gremlin."

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