[PK] Rose Petals Fall

[SapphirePool 1360]

 

Spoiler

Art by myself, Sapphirepool.

 

The sounds of Pluck, Skrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrr became Rosemary's whole world in the past few years. Waiting as she had for over 50 years to take her to the seven skies had proven fruitless. Many things in the woman's life turned out that way, it was only to be expected.

 

Needle in

Pull the thread

Needle out

Knot

Clip

Repeat. 

 

Her veined arthritic digits worked slowly, painfully slowly as they sewed large patches of fabric together. Her room became a storehouse for all the colors of the rainbow, draped across every surface.

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrr

 

Even as she felt her bones creak, her skin prick against the needle, her eyes unable to focus on the small stitching, she carried on. Magda, her handmaiden of elder age herself did other works. The diligent maid placed an order with the local carpenter for a large basket- the blacksmith for a metal basin. She sought cartons of oil and brought them back to Rosemary. 

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrr

 

Rosemary was never as good at sewing as her mother. Even now, her stitching was askew, jagged and unrefined. Her mother often sat at the dining room table in old providence, hand mending the never ending tears in Rose’s elder brother's wardrobe. Brothers- initially she had three. Two are the same as her blood, one adopted. So very different to each other, more tempestuous as their ages decreased with each addition. Rose was the baby for a long time, worry free as her brothers made sure she would be able to play without fear of the turbulent politics. They tried at least. 

 

Pluck, Skrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrr-

 

Rosemary's hand paused, shaking as it released the needle and made its way to the loose skin around her neck. A choker necklace, frayed at the edges and dulled by wear. She wore it and others like it since she was the mere age of six. Seldom had been privy to the knowledge of why, and those who were told are long deceased. Even dear Magda had not seen the horrendous scar beneath the cloth, a gift from one she trusted, and one who wore green.

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrrr

 

She grabbed another piece of fabric, attaching it to the last. Night would fall, day would rise, and she would sew. Her mind often wandered to long forgotten places. A dock, in the cold north of Norland. Red trees and mountains cradled the stone encampment resting upon the river. She held in her hands a rod, and a bucket sat beside her. A man of green cloth sat beside her- she thought for a moment to be afraid. Green had caused her scar, yet this green was kind, murmuring an explanation as he showed her how to cast her line. His hazel eyes met hers, their hues the same. 

 

Pluck, Skrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrr, Prick

 

A spot of blood pooled from the elders finger, she reached for a box of bandages she had off to the side for this very reason. The pain was so minimal, she hardly cared anymore. There had been worse done upon her. 

 

“Filthy dirty commoner!” her hands dropped the bandage roll, her eyes clouding. “Commoner, Traitors blood runs through you!” crack. The girl's fists hurt, her cheeks burned, nose in a constant state of askew. It did not matter though, she was simply the henchwoman to the caller. Anastasya, she was the demon in Rosemarys young life. Princess Anastasya Barbanov would let her cousin Nikoletta do the dirty work. Rosemary knew why they disliked her, though she could not accept it. Eirik Baruch, her first friend. Whenever she was not being beaten by the girls, she was like a duckling to his side. He was kind to her, unlike many. Feelings beyond friendship kindled inside her soul, but how does a traitor's daughter of Oren be with the Heir to the Baruch name? She doesn't.

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrrr

 

Anastasya and Eiriks' arranged betrothal was announced at his coming of age gathering. The entire ride home, she wailed to the sky's about how unfair it was. She did not choose to be born a commoner, she did not choose for her father to betray his nation and become a ferryman. She did not choose for that same father to be captured because of her. She decided then, she would stay away from Haense then on. Most of the pain she had experienced was done so in its borders, how foolish of her to not know that it simply follows her like a dark shadow. Haense, oren, it mattered not where she was. It loomed.

 

Rosemary set down the cloth in her hands, a break was needed. She called Magda to bring her hot cocoa. The handmaid used to tease Rosemary for her childish tastes. A comfort the hot mug would bring to Rosemary as she recalled her eldest brother Samuel who would always buy her chocolate from beans n’ baubles. Samuel was the only one of her brothers she could talk to about her heartbreak. He was kind, comforting the broken teen girl that she was. He supported her as she set her mind to other things. As she reached adulthood, she opened an aquarium shop, and was introduced to a young man one moon younger than herself. 

 

The mug grew cold in her hands, and she set it to the side after but two sips. She chose not to remember that man's face anymore, though she could never forget his piercing blue eyes. Rosemary chose to only remember the outcome of marrying him. Two children, and a new father. Rev Vuiller was more of a father than her own ever was, and especially her stepfather who did not even see her as his own daughter. The scholarly man often chimed to others that Rose was his favorite daughter, and everytime it warmed her heart. She loved her Pa, and he loved her as his own. 

She picked up the fabric once more.

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, pluck, Skrrrrr

 

 

 

Vuillermoz. Her new home, one far larger than she could ever dream of having. Her husband, the heir and her daughter a spunky girl. She often found herself chasing the little one around new providence, the child on adventures with her cousin. She never wanted their world to be rocked by war, but it would be twice. Rose did not involve herself in politics, nor could she even recall the reasons for the first of the wars. She knew it had to do with her adopted uncle Duncan, and if her memory served, a goat. Or was it a sheep? Eitherway, it took her mother and brothers away many times to the battlefront. It never felt too close though, too real. She still ran her shop, and apart from a minor fire caused by a raid, she was untouched by the conflict. But her brother was not. “SAMUEL!” She cried in front of the grave site daily. Thrown from a bridge by a man in green. The greens, the ferrymen, her friends, her enemies, her uncles in bandanas. How cruel was it to have your own brother killed by those you learned so much from, even if in secret. They could never be trusted. 

 

Pluck, Skrrrrr, Pluck, Skrrrrr

 

Rosemary had become barren after having her second born, Samuel. He was premature, labor induced by a traumatic fall whilst helping her young brother in law. He was born blue, unmoving. She thought it so cruel how the world would take her child so soon after her brother. But she saw him, the red coat from the corner of her eyes and the soft hazel eyes. Her baby would live, though weakly. 

 

Pluck, Skrrrr. 

 

The second war could not be avoided by Rosemary, for it came knocking at her door with the force of a platoon of soldiers. It had been less than a day since the announcement of a rebellion, of the start of the brothers' war. A misinterpreted message brought Prince Fredericks' army to Vuillermoz where only Rosemary, her daughter, her cousins' babies and her daughter's cousins rested. They spared no pity towards the unarmed women. Bleeding from an arrow in her flank, she finally heard her mothers voice call out, pleading with the army. Everything would be alright, her mother was here and surely more would come right? 

 

“What are you doing, mother” 

 

“Saving you”

 

They stood in the sitting room of the keep, blood and bodies all around. Her mothers husband, her mother, and her.

 

“You side with those who did this!”

“TO SAVE YOU!”

 

“Get out” Rosemary had never shown such disgust. Her mother was with those who did this. She let them into the keep, she caused the slaughter of those lying around them, those who had truly come to save her. The blood of Ivan var Ruthern was on her hands, and in a way, rosemarys. She was the reason her mother had access to this keep. Who would suspect the future vicountess’s mother of such heinous crimes? 

 

“You are no mother of mine”

 

Pluck, skrrr, pluck, skrrrrr

 

BOOM

 

The war was lost, and so was Vuillermoz. Rather than allow the new king to occupy the keep, Pa had chosen to obliterate it instead. Bundles of dynamite made short work of something so safe at first. They hadn't even finished scrubbing the blood from the stonework. They traveled a long distance, south past Urguan, across the sea. Finally, they could travel no more and sought refuge at the spring of St Lothar in the deserts of Almaris. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs, but she kept on for the sake of her growing children and her Pa. They were all she had left. 

It seemed like a dream. Long hard years turned the desert into an oasis. Their family took up within one of the largest residences in the grand duchy, her pa taking his place as the duke's right hand. It was comfortable, albeit hot. The past seemed like a long distant nightmare. It was hot here though, too hot

 

“JOHANNE!” flames lapped the residence of the Aquilae. Her pregnant daughter was trapped on the top floor, head gasping for fresh air from the window. She called back frantically “Father, where's father!” Rosemary knew where her husband was. She had passed the charred body on her way to the upper floors. “Don't worry about him, he is fine” she would lie. Grief gripped her heart, She thought perhaps the fire had started because he was making her one of her favorite sweets, as she always asked him to do. But something felt off. 

 

STAB, Skrrrr, STAB, Skrrrrr

 

She found the note, as the ashes settled. She wanted to scream, cry, plead. How could he do this? After all she had done. She kept his secrets, fed him. 

 

The bony hands stabbed through the fabric, ripping it. Rosemary came to her senses, muttering about wasted cloth. She had thought about it- accidentally leaving an oil lamp alit beside a curtain as she slept. But she was a coward, too scared of death yet yearning for it so deeply. Envy, envy, envy. Letters upon letters came year after year, at first almost a cascade, but slowly dwindling to a drip. Each carried a black seal, a name crossed out of her pocketbook. First was her mother. She had reconciled not long before the letter came, connecting over the shared hatred of her stepfather, and Primrose’s now ex-husband. A fire had broken out in the Gendik residence, and a body was found. All Rosemary could do was laugh, a dark abysmal misery befalling her. It had been a year since her husband's untimely departure. 

Her skin grew thinner, wrinkles and gray hairs looked back at the young hazel eyed girl she expected in the mirror. The vanity accumulates black stamped letters year after year. Not even her grandchildren could bring the elder from her room tucked away at the back of the estate. It was a miracle Magda was able to pry her from her seat when the mori overran the continent. What would it be like, to watch them break down the door and end her suffering? She would never know, her handmaid had other plans. There was little change, once she settled into Portoregne. She oft looked out the window, towards the sky. How exhilarating would it be to touch the clouds once more within a basket, carried by a colorful balloon? Vuillermoz had always had a hot air balloon. Her husband proposed to her in one. But not here, the tradition had died with her Pa Rev. Magda had inquired on her behalf a couple times to local artisans, though the concept was unknown or too intimidating to most. 

 

Pluck, skrrrr, pluck, skrrrr

 

The pieces of fabric came together after years of toiling. Bandages covered Rosemary's thin skin from the constant prick of the needle. Magda paid some local boys to assemble the basket and heating apparatus. The balloon’s cloth was a shabby affair, it would be a miracle if it even held air. 

Slowly, the handmaiden let rosemary outside to the coast, the hot air balloon already inflated and held to the ground by a rope. Rose smiled as she looked at the cloth. Magda had stitched the pattern of Aquilae on it behind Rosemary's back. She withdrew her hand from Magda’s arm. “Finally, finally” she wheezed, stumbling towards the basket in her haste. Magda did not stop her, nor help her further. The maid watched sadly as her mistress beamed with a joy not found since her childhood within the candy store of beans n’ baubles. 

“Magda, come here” she called, and the maid obeyed. The servant was handed a book “Please make copies of this, and give them to Duke Johann Vuiller, and Laurelai Holly. Do with the rest of the copies as you wish, it matters not to me anylonger.” Magda looked at the books title, ‘Rose’s wilt’. Below the title read ‘The Autobiography of Rosemary Cooper, Gendik, Vuiller’. 

 

FWOOOSSHHHHHHH

 

Magda looked up from the leather bound tome to see the basket rising. She had not noticed the elder had tossed the binding rope from the undercarriage, releasing the tether. 

Rosemary did not look back, only forwards across the ocean she set as her path.

 

“Samuel” she smiled ear to ear.

 

After a short time of watching the balloon fly into the sky above the waters, the balloon was seen to rip apart. Down, down the colorful rainbow fell, a speck in the distant skys of the horizon. It took several days for the currents to bring the basket and waterlogged cloth to shore. It was no wonder the stitching failed, it was a miracle to have worked at all.

 

 

A simple announcement from the duchy of Aquilae was sent out once the basket was recovered. 

 

A simple announcement from the duchy of Aquilae was sent out once the basket was recovered. 

 

Rosemary Vuiller

1828-1978

Daughter of Primrose Gendik and Arlo Cooper

Wife to Kristian Vuiller

Mother to Johanne Vuiller and Samuel Ludovar

Grandmother to 12

Great Grandmother to 11

Great Great Grandmother to 11

Great Great Great Grandmother to 7

 

“Even a traitors daughter can one day become beloved"

 

 

 

Spoiler

[OOC]

 Wow, this has been a long time coming. Rosemary was my first persona I was offered to play after joining LOTC, and I couldn't have asked for a better story for her. I must admit, I held onto pking her for so long because of sentimental attachments, but the age cap of 150 was a good time to finally close her chapter.

I wish to thank so many people, and if I miss your name, I apologize.

@MapleSunflower for offering this persona, and being such a crucial part of her growth

@garentoft for being a supportive friend both irp and ooc.

@Harald for being a bright spot in Rosemary's dark times, and mine.

 

Furthermore, @annabanana1014, @MeteorDragon , @HIGH_FIRE , @tadabug2000 , @DelaneyG , @Aehkaj , @CanadaMatt , @D A N N Y  , @shay, @zuziee, @FredrickTeufel, @Zakajaervi,  @ave_imperium , @aehmi , @AnimeWolf0080, @Cjmate

Thank you all for being apart of this story!

 

Here is an archive of memorable screenshots and quotes

https://imgur.com/a/oPlpeBX 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[MeteorDragon 3441]

In the dreaded North, a lone man sat atop a mountain. His arms rested upon his knees as he looked out at the ocean, hands hanging down as those glowing red eyes of his pierced the darkness. Embers danced below the man so scared of fire. "My beloved Rose. I'm so glad you hate me." The voice of The Embered, Kristian Harald Vuiller, rang out, going unheard by all but the stone he sat upon. "Let us move on. Our children will be happy to see you. It's a shame I'll never join you in afterlife."

[Frisket 4539]

"Well....shit- I wuss Kinda hopin' you didn't see me here...like this, but, now we're together- mother."
Said a Tall man, Samuel looked from the gates of the skies above with a smile.

[SapphirePool 1360]

11 minutes ago, TeawithFrisket said:

"Well....shit- I wuss Kinda hopin' you didn't see me here...like this, but, now we're together- mother."
Said a Tall man, Samuel looked from the gates of the skies above with a smile.

Rosemary embraced her son as she met him at the gates "Language," she said with a smile as she pinched his cheek.

[Fawnytheturtle 865]

Faeviel who was Rosemary's step sister smiled at her arrival, she had her daughter Fallon with her and her mother Anne de Rosius also known as Anne Kommenos. (Sorry if I misspelled the last name)

 

She didn't say to much as she knew Rosemary had plenty of people to see, so just offered a light wave and a "Hello"

[tadabug2000 4924]

"Oh, Mama.." Johanne, not one usually for hugs, would greet her mother in the Seven Skies. Her arms wrapped over her, a kiss settling against her weathered cheek.