[PK] SHE WITH CLIPPED WINGS

[spicii 1131]

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

A disconcerting atmosphere presented itself upon every inch of the courtroom, Queen Vivienne stood to the flank of her eldest daughter Maude Fredericka along the dias - stoic expression planted on top of her paled visage of distress. Longing canvases glanced up at her beloved husband, his plagued state only filling her being with a certain hollowed sadness. The savoyard briskly centred her gaze back to her eldest, a gentle grin seeking refuge ‘pon her expression of motherhood. “When this is ove-” She began, only to be cut off with the booming of the court doors being forcefully pushed open by those inhabitants of Acre. Many flooded in, all unsheathing their blades outwards - thirsty for the blood of the crown. A gulp emitted that of Vivienne, instantly grasping upon Maude Fredericka’s digits as a sign of acknowledgment and empty protection. She unsheathed her own weapon - a dagger gifted by her father before his untimely disappearance. Eyebrows knitted solemnly as they approached closer and closer to the dias, exchanging words with her daughter as to distract her from the strife that dispensed in the halls. “Mother, we should go. We can.” Decreed Maude, longingly grasping the hems of her mother’s skirts in an attempt to move her further from the viewpoint of the new arrivals. “I cannot leave your father.” Her teeth gritted in a perturbed manner - and there was no way of changing her strong willed mind when it came to her husband. As they advanced forwards to what was deemed as only centimetres away from the dias, one member of the crowd proved devious. With a display of strength did he release his edge sharpened weapon in the direction of the mother and child - waving in the direction of Maude. The events happened so frantically that Vivienne did not even acknowledge her bodice racing to cover her eldest - its blade splicing the flank of her neck rather deeply.

 

The oozing carmine stained blood did not gush in a constant flow, albeit in time with the precious beating of Vivienne’s heart. At first it came abundant and vigorous, flowing through bony fingers as she shakily clasped the ripped flesh from the flank of her neck and attempted to apply pressure. Vivienne identified the blood trickle over the surface of her hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than her own flesh. Subsequently the cherry ichor seemed to still be leaving her rapidly paling skin, but the pulses were slower, weaker. A feeble hand extended ‘pon her own visage, an image of splattered blood staining her cheek much like her mother’s death, setting a fitting parallel for the Queen. “GO!” She clamoured briskly, Vivienne’s grip that slithered around her eldest daughter only tightening robustly as disoriented canvases rested eagerly upon Maude’s own. Her tone of voice was harsh and frantic - unusual for the once well kept and put together Queen. “B-But-” She was swiftly cut off by the savoyard's voice once more, her mental grasp upon reality dimly beginning to fade. “Go.” Vivienne almost whispered, evidently struggling speech wise as her countenance deemed it difficult to emit nothing more than a simple word. Her tone differentiated from last though, more welcoming and accepting. Palpably did it steer clear the path of harshness, slate canvases beginning to brim with salty tears that washed the splatter of blood cleanly from the Queen’s visage. Those mesmerising grey eyes that transpired a thousand different stories, and said a thousand words with only a glance. 

 

Vigorous expressions of consternation engulfed the woman at once as everything became more tangible to her, the feeling of her imminent death sinking deeply within as the Princess Royal shrieked like no other. The scream told of the pain and perplexion settling within Maude Fredericka. Her being craved the warmness of her mother’s skin and her scent albeit knowing that it was not safe for her and she had to depart rather rapidly. The corners of her quivering lips began to upturn to Maude, forming a smile gracefully upon her deathly white features, filled to the brim of meaning in contrast to the hatred Vivienne had once felt towards her own eldest child at her gender. “It is okay. P-Please, go.” Granting her the permission to leave her mother to die, Maude reluctantly started to usher away from Vivienne and retreat to safety - rendered speechless. Her smile faltered some at the Princess Royal’s departure, bodice growing robustly weaker as every prolonged second skipped by. A bright light declared itself willingly to the woman as her daughter left, all other surroundings drowned out completely. It was the sort of brightness that kindled something beautiful within, and at the same time stirred a connection with the nature around.

 

The wearied woman continued to fight against the beaming light that deemed itself too powerful over the Queen’s weakened body - a figure that donned itself in Sutican garbs and a motherly tone presented to Vivienne. “You’ve done so well, dove. Now you can be at rest.” Its voice echoed vividly in and out of her ears, a hallucination on the part of the savoyard. 

“But what of my children? I still have unfinished business - things to do.” 

 

“Shh. You need not fret, for they will be taken care of. In time they will come to terms with what their mother died for.” Catherine of Sutica whispered soothingly, offering forth an arm for her daughter to take. “Carolina and your father are waiting to see you once more, dove. The pair and I have been watching over you, Lucien and Renata.” 

 

“I-Is he proud?” Vivienne questioned eagerly on behalf of her father, eyebrows furrowing deep. Catherine of Sutica only nodded empathetically, and with such an action did the Queen take her mother’s hand. “We all are.”

 

Blooming memories of the past became evident within her slate canvases - life flashing before her eyes. It conveyed to her happy and proud memories, attempting to lull her fight and fear and send her off peacefully with no whims or worries. 

 

Never had a few moments deliberation seemed like an eternity as Vivienne felt her consciousness ebbing away, and her thoughts, as clear and concise as they were mere moments ago, were coming to a petrifying halt. The once familiar and comforting surroundings of Vienne struck her as if forcing themselves against her weak body – throwing the caliginous haired woman’s cranium back upon the cold and hardened surface of the dias. A last sigh emitted the woman as her mind fought no longer and succumbed to the brightened light display. Vivienne Anastasie de Savoie’s blood ran cold. 
 

 

 

❁ The front of the Palazzo Aggrade in the year 1854, Principality of Savoy ❁

The scene that laid before the savoyard was nothing short of a picturesque fever dream. The summer bloom cried so many petals onto the still warm field in the Principality of Savoy; the last vestiges of her beauty waiting for a precocious gust to carry them spinning to their rest. Each petal, papery and thin, lay on the newly golden grass, its veins glowing pink in the setting sun. Vivienne observed this, lost in the rhythmic percussion of the wind uniting with the fickle blades of viridescent grass. Her slate canvases were steady to the horizon, visage aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. With great ease did her lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that the savoyard was within ignorant bliss. The ground seeped so rampant with nature, hues overlapping with a heady vibrancy that brought her hands swooping down on instinct. Vivienne gave permission for her fingers to graze the perfumed "scales," holding them up briefly to take in their aroma before letting them tumble from her hand back to the garden path. Every shade of rose petal was within her midst, so vast and scalloped that they had collected a slimy dew. Intermingled were the shocking oranges, purples and fuchsias of the asters, their petals long and thin. The youthful princess embellished in an array of exotic savoyardic fabrics pranced around the gardens of the Palazzo Aggrade, swaying hands with an amber haired Carolina Luisa. Erupted laughter engulfed the halls lullingly as they approached the entrance, a soothing atmosphere of sheer serenity and contentment draping over the pair of siblings. Alongside an elongated feast table stood Olivier II, Catherine of Sutica, Lucien and Renata. “You are late, dove. Did the servants not send for the two of you?” Cooed Catherine - ushering Vivienne towards the table so that she may be seated. All present only conveyed an expression of utmost joviality as a blanket of peace soothingly suffocated the former Queen. To her own stupefied surprise, the savoyard did not fight such an action. She let the peace suffocate her willingly, on her own accord. 

From up above would the former Queen of the Orenians survey over her seven children - each precious to her being in a different way. 

 

 

Spoiler

Thank you to all who have graced me with this opportunity to play such a character and thank you to all who have contributed to her storyline in some way or another. Savoy will always hold a special place in my heart and I felt it fitting for her story to end where it started. Vivienne has been the most interesting character to play through a development side and I hope this will add to others development as well.

 

[Axelu 4333]

 

Amidst the tumult of the accursed day marred into history books as The Anastasian Finale, Maude Fredericka, Princess Royal of the Kingdom of Oren, peered into the eyes of her mother for the final time. Initially spared from seeing the demise of her father, Maude had been forcibly dragged away as the sight of her impaled mother - a woman who, throughout her childhood, had been withdrawn and callous but had since become a welcomed presence in her life. So much had been taken from her that day but what characterized those losses most was her loss of something precious and unredeemable: her innocence. Comfortably housed in the rural estate of the Lord of Acre for a month, the Novellen was later freed by a valliant armsman in service to her late father and remained in isolation. Through all of her anguish, the last words her mother had spoken to her - "GO" - panged relentlessly in her mind. In a selfless act of courage, Vivienne had been bereaved of her life, and although she was thankful for her mother's service, the adolescent pondered how, because of her survival, she would have to forevermore live with the reality of what she had seen and experienced.

 

Her slate-grey eyes, having grown darker over the years, fermented by age and solemnity, made the auburn-haired youth resemble her sable-haired mother in countenance more than ever. These thoughts of hers, like many, were trivial to dwell on now, helpless to her present circumstances. She yearned to hear from her kith, who might or might not have survived the hellish events of the previous months, but spared a moment to smile upon a dove who soared across the distant horizon - resplendent and divine, unhindered by the conflicts which so heavily plagued her mortal plane. In this moment, perhaps for the first, genuine time in her comfortable life, she felt envy.

[aldskar 842]

Princess Claudia weeps and weeps and weeps. 

 

[ncarr 2806]

The Princess Vivienna prepared her mourning silks reluctantly. 

[Borin 7645]

Bailiff Otto frowns. He is sad, for Acre does not yet have a zoo...

[ibiou 2397]

A wistful sigh escaped the lips of Ottilie Franziska Jazloviecki upon hearing the Queen's death. She moved to her window and looked out towards the mountainous lands of her home. "And it only felt like yesterday we were speaking about your children, and how I looked to you as a guide to being mother..." She murmured softly before coming to a complete silence. Only then, the birdsong outside was audible in the Margravine's chamber.

[capiital 275]

The elder Joan of Alstion peeked through the circular peephole atop the front door of her undersized, "off-the-grid" shed at the melancholic guard standing before her with his head hung downward. An uneasy though concerned countenance garnished her disordered demeanor as she unlocked the door, a knife stifled in her clothing. Word of the Queen's death was gradually processed, the data vanquishing her geriatric mentality. The elder duchess shattered down upon the floor, collapsing in anguish as she recollected the times she took care of Vivienne and looked upon her fondly in her youth. With the knife she planned to utilize to fend against the unforeseen guest, she'd lift it to her chest... piercing it harshly through her garments and towards her slow, pulsating heart.

 

Spoiler

PotterworldMC welcomes us with open arms.

 

[ImmortalShadowZ 1306]

Cynefrith Easworth would grab his pen, crossing off another noble who died in the last few years. He would question if they knew what countryside was and wonder if they should just never return to Vienne. 

[Ryanark 2738]

 

 

Hannes was in charge of the dead that fateful day. Cries of agony scattered throughout the courtroom as the fight simmered down, trudging with heavy steps over those who were once brothers. He recognized many, shunning his gaze from their deathly faces in willful ignorance. The battle was won, yet there was an eerie, persistent silence amidst the groans and cries of mercy.

 

Those who he once regarded as brothers were loaded unto carts one by one, the stench was unbearable by this point on, but Hannes spotted the green-garbed woman being hauled out, along with none but the King in his ornate armor, he lay slain within. His heart truly sank upon spotting them, Hannes could not feel but shame as he refused to look into the eyes of the fallen King and Queen. Whistling for the two to be set aside, the men did as he asked. The bodies of King and Queen were sat alongside each other for once last time, as an ample pyre was constructed within the courtyard, where the two regal bodies shall lay side-by-side in death, reunited with GOD.

 

Their corpses, prepared with an ample covering of salt, three pints of holy water, and a splash of oil on each of the pair's bodies. Hannes did this personally, along with his son Gustaf. The personal emotions had transceded the war, a heavy shower of guilt washing over the man, no matter how victorious he was - it shall forever be a heavy burden on his aging mind. Hannes recited their last rites as they were finally resting atop the pyre, and as he finished - Amen, Hannes lit the pyre, engulfing it in flame.

 

Frederick and Vivienne's pale faces were slowly but surely engulfed in dancing flames, the radiant heat of fire and GOD sending them rightfully to the skies, as they deserved. For once, he looked into their faces for but a moment, but quickly gazed away from the crackling fire. Hannes stood, in deep recollection of the memories he gathered with Frederick. To think the young, little ambitious boy he met in New Providence's library was to become King. He remembered that day the best, both for when he had stumbled upon the greatest love of his life at the time- Amelia. Shortly after, came the young Frederick. Young, boyish eyes staring up at him with a blazing ember behind his eyes. He was destined for greatness...

 

He never expected for it to end like this.

[tcs_tonsils_ 3666]

Sebastien Olivier Ashford de Savoie sat upon the steps of the inner palace. She had never known- nor it seems cared to know about her only nephew.  There has been a day where the young de Savoie thought he might reach his hand out and have it be grasped by his family- pulled into a loving embrace by those those whose blood he shared. It then donned on him that those days were only in his mind. 
 

Yet as this day passed him by, it only brought him sadness. “And so it goes.” 

[Onnensr 1908]

William Lucian d'Arkent patted his doting mother on the shoulder as she laughed @tilly, admiring the bust of the Harlot Queen Vivienne what now rested handsomely upon their fireplace mantel. Twas was a blight for the eyes surely, but brought a deep sense of satisfaction to the family what kept it. "There, you filthy monstrosity! What good's your petty titles now! Try stirring up trouble in this pathetic state! Spied trembling in your boots in the very Palace mother built! A coward through and through, hah hah ha ha ha!!" William set his hand to his chest as he laughed, glancing away to his mother with a joyfully-pinched expression of utmost pride in his emerald eyes.

[tilly 5115]

Odessa laughed as William brought home to her the bust, intact, to her surprise! "Ah, the queen whose name would likely be scratched from humanity's archives, if not to be mentioned only as the monarch who did little to nothing."

 

She'd just finished reading the newsletter of the obituary of the erstwhile queen, and deposited it into a pile of Orenian death notices in a crate by the door, intended to be used as sanitary paper to take to the privy. "Oh, that rotten who-what-now!" The older woman genuinely couldn't remember the name of the forgettable queen, or her disaster of a court which she'd led into the ground due to her lack of experience - whoever she was!

 

The woman had gone to her bedchamber for a moment, and returned with a cosmetic tin, brushing on a clownish layer of blush, lip-tint, and eyebrow contouring. Stepping back and appraising her creation, Odessa murmured to her adoptive child William in satisfaction. "To what's-her-name." She raised an invisible glass to toast the deceased.

 

Odessa would've spoken to the queen when she could have, but unfortunately was never anywhere to be found... she must've done all of her work from Aeldin or under the guise of her barely-functioning council. 

 

Spoiler

im sorry if you guys feel a certain way about any of this, but this is how my character feels about the queen, the court, and the council which she was estranged from (because of ooc snakery and lies propagated time and time again instead of just having a simple conversation). I have roleplayed in game having these emotions and sentiments on my character, and it makes no difference that I post it here vs saying it in character in game. not everyone is going to like you, or your character, or the decisions that are made between those lines. all i can suggest to you gamers is that you grow up, let IC be IC, and try roleplaying.

 

[slattador 511]

Mathilde truly ponders why Odessa, the same woman who did absolutely nothing for the Stassion Courts- deems her existence so important that she begins to call the queen a random once she’s deceased, rather than in her face when she’s alive.. She did not truly want the smoke. It's a shame our Lady Whisperer is such a coward..

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

"Too bad Her Majesty didn't complete the Path of Owyn with Frederick," An Oyashiman Lector said to himself and said a prayer for the queen when it was verified she too died. Perhaps one day her ashes would be reunited with Frederick's.

[_Jandy_ 3519]

Spoiler

A-tier writing, seriously. Very beautifully written.