To Ashes She Fades

[Lalosia 988]

 

 

“The Mettle”

 

 

Spoiler

https://open.spotify.com/track/3TQrrmZ4vQBoBNK6Hymkph?si=ad6a8c3eb3224ce7 

 

 

“The girl in want of a mother whom she cannot reach.”

 

ʚɞ

 

festivities of the night greatly tired the poor, old, dowager-Marchioness of Schwyz. Long gone were the days when she was able to dance within a ballroom till the sun came up.

 

As her body's muscles fired off in short bursts of aches and pains, she withdrew into her newly established bedchamber - her devoted lady's maid already helping her to discard the day's soiled clothing and slip her into a freshly laundered nightgown.

 

Their conversations as she was readied for bed went on with idle chatter - Theodosya rattling on about lukewarm gossip she had first learned of twenty years prior. As well as the news of a recent visitor she had received in the shape of her eldest niece.

 

Her hair had been neatly tied into a braid - just as she liked for when she slept.

 

Movements slowed as her body slipped under the covers, her weight sinking into the feather-filled mattress, the action accompanied by a drained sigh.

 

ʚɞ

 

A flurry of memories shrouded her mind as she attempted to fall into a quick slumber. Each thought shot through her head in rapid succession.

 

The supper she had just eaten

 

Watching her eldest daughter take her first steps

 

The moment she had met her husband

 

The day she learned she was expecting her first child

 

Her older brother teasing her in Valdev’s square.

 

When she learned the truth about her sister’s marriage

 

The wisteria that grew along an old farmhouse in Petra

 

Being beaten to a bloody pulp by intruders in her family chapel

 

The bear pelt she donned as a girl

 

Her aunt's loving embrace

 

Her niece's agony

 

Her father's grave demise

 

Her mother.

 

ʚɞ

 

, there was nothing. Only a light of blinding white, which overtook the entirety of her vision. She steadied herself from the blinding brilliance that had swallowed her very last worldly breath. Once her sight was restored, she looked up and down, to and fro. 

The air itself was warm, thick with the scent of springtime flowers, lively from the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the bees. The expanse before her was a vibrant clearing, something from a children's fairy tale book.

A gentle breeze blew through her hair, the wind carrying dogwood leaves which whispered their sweet welcomes into the new existence she found herself in. Her locks whipped past her eyes, the color of such stirring her chest with short-lived panic.

It was red. Truly red.

Gone were the hay-like tangles of grey; returned were her plush curls of fiery amber.

She hastily skipped down a short path, gliding through the meadow with a gleeful laugh.

Teddy wandered through the soft glade beyond time, untouched by the horrors of man, only stopping when she happened upon a quiet brook. Leaning over, she saw her refracted reflection. It was not the one that had been chiseled by age, but the girl she had once been. Unmarred, unburdened. Her youth returned.

 

There she was, a phoenix reborn. 

 

 

Spoiler

 

Theodosya “The Mettle” Amador, painted by Deia (Ivery) in 1951.

 

 ʚɞ

 

[!] Upon Theodosya’s death, letters previously written to those she held dear would be hand-delivered via courier in the weeks following her passing.

[Cheese 8883]

"Goodnight, Aedymamej. I love you."

 

Those were the last words Esfir had bid to the Margravine, before departing back to the remainder of the feast. It had grown late, and Lotharia was so far, that the Duchess decided to stay the night.

 

"Your Grace!" A servant barged -- quite rudely -- into her room. Esfir awoke with a jolt, sitting upright as the messenger called to her. "It is the Margravine!"

 

In an instant, Esfir was on her feet. She ran as fast as she could, considering her age, to the quarters of her Aunt. Just as hastily, she through the door open. Her Aunt Theodosya, her greatest supporter, her warmest hug, her mother in all but name, laid dead there in that bed.

 

Esfir crumpled by the bedside of Theodosya and wailed. She clung to the cold hand of her Aunt desperately, her sobs echoing throughout Konstadt. Perhaps if they were loud enough, Theodosya might've heard them and turned back to life. 

 

"DON'T LEAVE ME, AEDYMAMEJ!"

 

˳˙⋆  ──────────────────────༺⠀☆⠀༻──────────────────────  ⋆˙˳

 

In the Skies, however, Liridona greeted Theodosya with arms opened wide. The long-departed woman had waited at the gates for every one of her children. Ten had joined her -- five sons, four nephews, and a niece. With Theodosya's ascent, Liridona's family was complete in the heavens.

 

"Teddy!" She rejoiced through her tears, bringing her aged niece daughter into a tight embrace. "My sweet girl, I missed you! Welcome home, my little bear cub." While the Dowager-Margravine's absence upon Aevos was sorely felt, there was no greater joy than the reunion of Mother and girl in death.

Spoiler

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😭

 

[Crymson 535]

Konrad Hans had never dealt with the death of a relative before, at least not so suddenly and in such close proximity. He had not known his great grandmother even half as well as he would have liked. He had seen the reverence his grandfather treated her with and the warm, if slightly melancholic smile that formed when she was in the company of family. Withdrawing from the chaos of the discovery of her death, he allowed himself some moments to cry in private and mourn what might have been.

[najtik 183]

Among the golden fields of the Seven Skies, beneath the whispering wisteria and the warm scent of spring, a familiar voice stirred the wind.

 

The old man stood by the brook, his silver hair catching the light. He did not speak at first-he simply smiled as she approached, red curls catching in the breeze like flame. When she drew near, he opened his arms without a word.

“Come now, moya sestra” Karl murmured, voice steadied by time “Vy've come home.”

 

And there, in the realm untouched by grief or age, he pulled her into a quiet embrace. The skies did not need to weep, for the two Amadors were whole again.