Cooked in the Forest

[ncarr 2806]

Spoiler

 

 

Cooked in the Forest

CALLIOPE ANALIESE ALSTION C. 1999

 

—

 

The day began as any other, the sun rose over the eastern horizon of the Adrian Diaspora. With the sun rose the to-be bride on the day of her wedding. Her stomach turned with nerves as she lifted herself from the cushy bed in which she slept, met with the disapproving gaze of the Raev ladies that’d been assigned to aid her on this most important day. With a sigh, ANALIESE rose from her bed, her arms extended to accept a woolen housecoat from her ladies as she made for the neighboring room. She was met with her to-be husband, enjoying his breakfast with a few lords of the Adrian privy council. 

 

As the day wore on, the Princess’ mood only grew more erratic. She gripped the frame of her bedroom door as her wedding dress tightened around her waist. It was an elaborately designed dress, overseen by Analiese herself, fit with a gilded corset that seemed to push the life from her. Her ensemble was punctuated by a Raev headpiece braided into her blonde hair. All the while, Analiese seemed to be elsewhere, allowing the day she’d so meticulously planned to pass her by. . .

 

—

 

Her mind drifted, instead, to months prior when she’d made a trip to Haense.

 

Amidst the chaos of her nephew’s succession Analiese decided to stake her own claim. Despite her weak claim, being the youngest child of the long-dead King John, it was a selfish attempt at a seat upon a throne she’d always thought she was fit for. For her entire life she watched as, first, her brother Charles inherited their father’s kingdom and squandered it, then, her nephew Godwin allowed the realm to continue its downward spiral, and finally she accompanied her nephew Markus in his attempts for the throne succeeding his brother. It was at this moment that she decided to make claims of her own. Only in part for her wishes to see her homeland prosper and to see her family united again, but more so to sit upon the throne - to call herself Queen. 

 

The trip was wrapped in the guise of diplomacy of state, though she opted to meet with her old companion, the Oracle of Maenvestiyaeo as opposed to his brother, the King. It was not an explicit desire, though Analiese hoped they might rekindle their friendship that she so cherished in her youth. Though her wishes were quickly dashed as figures descended upon the keep. Planted centrally in a frozen lake, the keep stood isolated from the outside world, an island with no other inhabitants but the small family Josef had created in her absence. 

 

The isle was not so easily overtaken, the beasts were sworn off though not without claiming something of their own. As the dust settled and the spirits were at bay, Analiese laid eyes on Josef, slumped against the wall with an arm crossed over his lap. His eyes flickered open and closed, and her stomach dropped. She’d hardly seen the battle, despite being one of only two adults present. It was a feeling she didn’t think she was capable of anymore, something she’d not felt in some time. 

 

The feeling stuck with her. . .

 

—

 

In a blink she’d been ushered from her quarters to the Adrian chapel. It was a dark place, deep within the belly of the earth. A mixture of dank stone drippings and incense overwhelmed her senses as she passed through the threshold. The air was cold and hummed distant echoes of dripping water into unseen pools. From across the dimly lit room, his face illuminated by flickering candlelight, Analiese spotted Mateusz at the side of the priest who would likely be overseeing their impending nuptials. 

 

She made her way over to him, standing at his side and gazing out over the subterranean chapel as guests began to slowly arrive. She imparted hushed words unto him, “I am nervous.” It was as if the words were fighting to spill from her lips from the moment she’d woken up that morning. “You’ll be fine.” He returned from over his shoulder, she could see his cheeks crease with a smile. 

 

It will be fine she repeated to herself, eyes scanning the congregation - mostly Adrians - as they continued to find their seats. With every opening of the door she could not help but imagine herself leaving through it. And so, she did. She departed from Mateusz’s side and began toward the door. As she departed the altar the room began to spin around her, the sounds of dripping stalactites and rushing brooks crescendoed until she reached the door at last, pushing it open and beginning up the steep staircase. 

 

She’d never felt more unlike herself when the sun met with her skin. She winced, the light in stark contrast to the dark church she’d emerged from. Her hand rose then, ripping the headdress from her hair, the braid coming undone in the process and her hair falling to her shoulders. She began to sweat, the layers of her dress beginning to feel as if they were suffocating her. She had become undone. 

 

Kasandra emerged from the chapel to console her, but it was to no avail. She was determined, departing for Valdev moments later with only a hastily written letter to her would-be husband in her wake. 

 

 

---

 

Spoiler

“It was beautiful.” Analiese began.  “I took it for granted, of course.” She tutted, seating herself at the fire's side. “I do miss the warmth of Whitespire.” 

 

The woman placed herself adjacent, but not so close as to invite a renewed air of amiability, merely creating a comfortable space for the other to process their divided emotions. Her hands were gathered at her midsection. Gently resting above her white leather satchel. “Tell me. . . Have you given up on your ambitions for the throne so easily?” Her head cocked. 

 

“It was my brother's spirit.” Analiese hummed, a faint smile crossing her features as her eyes set on the fire. “He was my dearest friend in youth, and Joseph, the Oracle, told me Alexander watched over me and urged me against it. Who am I to go against my brother's wish.” 

 

She inhaled, her eyes stabbing at Analiese. Her knuckles briefly whitened as her grip into her hands strengthened, but in a flash, the breaking was gone. She spoke once more, the final notes intended scathing through a lighthearted grin, insinuating Analiese's. . . Appetite for pleasure. 

 

“Well.” Analiese began, the woman’s insinuation clearly not landing with the Alstion. “I had a few brothers, though Alexander and I were the closest. As well as James for sometime… before he left.” 

 

Listening as a cat would, the lady with blank eyes and her eyes set on her claws, inspected them with a lazy smile. “I am glad that you were blessed with your comforts. It will provide you an avenue of respite. I truly do desire it for you, Analiese. I am sympathetic to your story,” Her eyes met the Alstion, bearing a grin that did not meet the eyes, “as you know I have followed you in your campaign, and I will see you through until the end. I feel we have forged a bond that will last.” She adds, her eyes welling now with some moisture, glistening against the campfire. “I only must. . . Compose myself of my emotions. For you see, I feel betrayed.” Her throat panged audibly, and she bit back a strangled moan, “It will take some time for that to heal. But I am forgiving.” Was added at last. 

 

“I feel the same.” She hummed. “I do often make friends and meet new people, though ours is a unique friendship.” Her brows creased together, “I thought it wiser to leave before anything became too serious. I could not enter honestly into a union with Mattius knowing what I know.” 

 

The lady extended a cold hand outwards, stretching her vulnerability unto the woman. “Who is it - the man who has captured your affections so?” 

 

“I can not say.” She clammed up, eyes sliding toward the flame. “I fear I have said too much for one day.” 

 

“You can trust me, Analiese. I have hid many more things for your sake than I have every another.” She coo'ed patiently, the shadows behind her eyes writhing with beckon, yet her body was still and consummate with heed. 

 

Analiese's head shook. “I can not.” She resolved, her lips pressed thin. 

 

She glanced about their surroundings, tapping vindictively against her satchel with her index finger. Her eyes then set on her, nudging with their glow, “It is a Haenseman, no? Who else? You have spent a life here.” 

 

“Indeed, he is a Haenseman, that much is clear.” She answered curtly. “I am not at liberty to say much more.” 

 

She buried her lips within her mouth, a chuckle hidden deep in the depths of that throat, inaudible to the Aaunite. . . Then she rose, parsing back hair through lithe fingers. “What you have done. . . It has cost us much shame.” 

 

“I know.” She admitted with a curt nod, “I can only hope time will heal this wound and mend this rift between us.” 

 

She sighed tremendously, unraveling the buttons of her satchels, and withdrawing from it an unassuming bottle of some dark amber-hued liquid, perhaps a strong tea, or. . . An unlikely ale. “I hope, as well. Walk with me?” She relaxed the bottle in her hand, dabbing a drop of it into her hand, as if perfume.

 

Analiese's eyes fell over the perfume, her brows piqued with interest. “Do you know these lands?” She stood, a delighted shock evident in her tone. 

 

The flask was quickly corked once more, placed with gentility into her other hand. “Of course. I have been in Haense for some years, my lady, on my search for Godani's guidance. However, I have camped, rather than inhabited the city prope.” She turned, and began a leisurely walk. 

 

“I did not know you've been in Haense.” She mused. “Found anything of note?”

 

The lady nodded as she spoke, her pride shone in that moment, gesturing for Analiese to retrieve the object from her satchel. 

 

“What does it say?” Her brow rose, her hands clasped at her waist as they promenaded still. 

 

“Read it for yourself.” Her free hand dug within her satchel, and pulled a slim manuscript from within, revealing it for Analiese's view. 

 

“Ah..” She tutted, thumbing through the pages hastily and skimming the pages. 

 

The woman headed into the forest gentily, hiking her skirts where the flask remained hitched on a finger. 

 

“Is there some sort of path?” She asked, following hesitantly after the lady, lifting her skirts in tandem as she continued up. 

 

She lifted the flask to the air, shaking her head 'no' with a passive look of seriousness in her face, “There is no path. We must diverge now, your highness.” She sighed, and then began to shake the vial. “I will guide you, do not fret. I know this way, for I have traveled it often.” 

 

“I do not often stray from the paths.” She groaned, “I'm not fond of trudging through the forest.” Her shoulders sunk with a sigh, continuing on after her. 

 

Suddenly, the woman lept backwards, the substance in the bottle beginning to spark with some sort of virulent blaze, before she slammed it into the ground before Analiese with all the might she could fathom. At her feet would burst a great fire of agonizing amber flame, catching onto her clothes and begging proximity to her skin. 

 

Analiese's features washed with betrayal, falling to her back as the flames caught her dress. The Princess let out a shriek as the flames engulfed her, a horrific show of struggling and writhing around on the ground as the flames crept up her dress and began to burn her flesh. 

 

The woman's hands trembled against her lip as she watched, falling to her knees with instancy, the roar of flame a deafening cacophony in her ears, a march of guilt battling the red and orange hues infiltrating the pasture of her eyes. “Why did you so betray me? ME?” She bawled, her dress becoming dirtied with gravel, dirt and the dew of Haeseni grass, digging flattened palms into the earth where her fingers collected the dirt as if she herself could reach into Analiese's body and strangle her. “You were my only friend. You were my mentor. And you rendered it to nothing for - for a man.” Her tears fell with salt and pain, her voice drowned where those tears could not wash the flame from Analiese's burning body. But her answer was naught, the fire had crept over her dress and had engulfed her entirely. The writhing came to a slow stop save a twitch or two as life left her body. 

 

She continued to watch even as the feeling of sin crept up her body and caused her to shake violently, a loud wail of pain able to break through brief moments where her mouth could only hang open with shock and anguish. Her torso fell forwards, and she kneeled before GOD, her palms risen, until the body fried and the fire could burn no more. After some time, she rose, made a fruitless effort to wipe the dirt from her white gown, and left. 

 

---

 

In the following days a stench sat in the air around the Haeseni fairgrounds, an Alstionite Princess was no longer. 

—

 

Spoiler

Thank you for all the rp to EVERYONE i rped with <33 feel free to interact 

@esotericas

 

@Halt @Aeus

@ContestedSnowcameo hehe

 

0-0

 

@myochii@Halt

 

@Halt

 

alexander glowing 😍

 

 

@bickando

 

 

[amyselia 2962]

Kneeling at the altar to St. Julia carved delicately into the stone of her bedroom walls, Kasandra remembered the events of the early morning: Analiese’s confession, the words said in thoughtless anger, the letter shoved in her brother’s hand. . . Unease held her, and in response, she gripped her prayer beads with whitening firmness. As she aimed to mouth the first word to the common prayer, a strange chill crept up her spine, and she felt as if someone’s eyes burned into the back of her neck. . .

 

She whipped around. . . and there was nothing.

[annanicole__ 2802]

 

Lorelei Mairi stood at the threshold of Cliffhaven Hall, her heart heavy with the weight of sorrow. The news of her Aunt Calliope's passing had struck a chord deep within her, even though their relationship had never been particularly close. As she slipped into her mourning gown, its fabric felt like a shroud of dread wrapping around her. 

 

With each step along the path to Enswerp, memories flickered like candlelight in her mind. She recalled the carefree days of her youth, when laughter mingled with the mud of the fields, and her Aunt Calliope had insisted she scrub away the dirt and present herself as a proper lady. Those lessons, though stern, had been laced with love—a love Lorelei now recognized amidst her grief.

 

As she ascended the small hill, the fields stretched before her, vibrant yet muted by her sorrow. Reaching the Church of Saint Calliope, she traced her fingers over the marble sign, the name "Calliope" etched in stone, almost as if it were a whispered message from beyond. It was a reminder of the legacy her aunt had left, a legacy she now felt compelled to honor.

 

Inside the church, the air was thick with reverence. Lorelei washed her hands at the basin, the cool water a momentary balm against her heartache. Kneeling at the altar, she bowed her head in prayer, seeking solace and strength for her aunt's journey into the unknown. With each whispered word, she felt the weight of what lay ahead—the family dynamics, the memories to cherish, and the resolve to carry forth Calliope's spirit. In that sacred space, Lorelei vowed to embrace both the grief and the gratitude, a duality that would guide her through the days to come.

[Olox_ 4318]

Despite the limited amount of time Charles spent with his sister throughout his childhood and reign, the man lit a candle in a remote chapel "The purest of souls have already departed from this world. Now only we are all that remain. Forgive me, O sister, for if I have ever wronged you in this mortal life, it was not my intention, and I pray that you will find peace and solace in the afterlife, in the eternal garden of the Lord." The deposed monarch said with a heavy sigh before kneeling to pray for his deceased sibling.

[esotericas 2674]

Charlie sat silently in the chapel on Lemon Hill, staring into the kitchen flames. They clutched a letter, crumpled to the point of unreadability. "God save her soul," Charlie murmured. "God save her soul. She was honest, she did not love him. God save her soul." Again, and again. They despised being helpless. Prayers were a tool for those who could do nothing else. And Charlie could do nothing else now. 

 

They did not cry. Crying was not something that came naturally to Charlie. It was a tool as well, to be used when needed. And tears were not needed now. Instead, Charlie pulled out their own letter paper, and began to write.