Melpomenne

WEPAAAA!!!!!!!! Movies/TV: Memes: Words: naguara: an exclaimation that can be applied to almost any situation - real face palm moments bendito / ay bendito: the first word that comes out of my mouth anytime something happens Songs:

for the table at the cookout where all the uncles sit around and reminisce

watermelon woman 100% of the time

Aaren Colborn, Nerida thinks to herself... she frowns, throwing her thought into the flames.

Nerida pinned this notice upon her wall, clasping her hands thereafter. "Huzzah!"

From Ashes, We Rise EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present •⋅ ────────────────⊱ ༺ ✦ ༻ ⊰──────────────── ⋅• DUCHESS OF SUNHOLDT, I thank you for your response to my letter. I'd firstly like to note that I did not color the Balianese foolish, but instead myself foolish to consider to remain in Haense and fight, but I understand how you may have misunderstood this. I expect some to take offence to my words, as such is inevitable, and it is all simply a reflection of my thought process - so I ask that you forgive me if my words have offended you. I speak in earnest, and vulnerably, and stand beside my people with unwavering dedication. Frankly, I care little for what you have to say, and your assumptions are unfounded and irrelevant, and what I say towards my son in this letter is something of jest - a light hearted jab at him. My late husband and I produced a great man, I am not blind to this, and I've nothing but pride and reverence for my son, of whom will be great in my place, and who will take my place in the near future. I hope you may relieve your mind and soul of this hatred you hold for me. I pray for great fortune and prosperity upon your house and kin. •⋅ ─────────────────────⊱ ༺ ⋅☨⋅ ✵ ⋅☨⋅ ༻ ⊰───────────────────── ⋅• Matriarch of the House Amador & Haurultivsk of the Haeseni THE RISING TIDE OF AMADOR

Nerida loves her son and watches him through the cracks of the floorboards.

♪♪♪ From Ashes, We Rise EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present •⋅ ───⊱ ༺⋅☨⋅ ✵ ⋅☨⋅ ༻ ⊰─── ⋅• A LETTER TO MY PEOPLE AND THE FUTURE OF AMADOR PUBLISHED BY THE ON THIS HOLY YEAR OF 579 E.S. •⋅ ────────────────⊱ ༺ ✦ ༻ ⊰──────────────── ⋅• AND WHOMEVER ELSE THIS MAY CONCERN, The fall of our kingdom — the theft of our lands and the careless decisions that led to the loss of our honor and brought shame upon our people — has greatly wounded us all. Spiritually, for we are no longer welcome within our lands, where our families lived for hundreds of years, where we have worshipped, and where we nurtured ourselves and our kin. Physically, for many of us who fought in this foolish war were left maimed, crippled, or dead — left to rot in bloodstained grass, where no one brave remained to mourn. It has left us splintered throughout the realm, feeling bitter, disappointed, and disillusioned. We stood still as they mocked us and our culture, pillaged our homes from the capital to Koppány, and severed the very head of our cultural spirit — the Lady Haense. Our fight has yet to end, even though we now find ourselves few and far apart. Some fled to greater nations in hopes of reestablishing themselves, thoughtlessly swearing fealty to those who sought to destroy us, in pursuit of titular success. The rest of us cower like chicks beneath the wings of House Barbanov, hoping for peace and the chance to one day reform our kingdom — though we now nest in the home of our enemy. The irony is palpable. In the midst of it all, I, as matriarch, was charged with deciding where House Amador would settle amid the smoke and ash. While my eldest so readily locked arms with his childhood friends and skipped down the bloodied path to Norland, the decision weighed far heavier on my mind. The first option I considered — with the preservation of our titles at the forefront of my thoughts, and the hope of continuing to climb the mountain of nobility toward the summit of success — was to join our Valkonen kin and settle in the lands of Petra. I must extend my most heartfelt gratitude to the royal Therin Adil, who not only conscripted his people to fight alongside ours but offered promises of hope and prosperity. Under his rule, House Amador would retain our titles, be granted land, and integrate into Petran society. It was beautiful to imagine at first — to continue life with few disruptions and to strive once more. But once the initial wave of relief passed, I asked myself: Do we deserve this? We, who brought about a death war and so generously shared our fate with our allies, now flock to them — or to our corrivals — like orphans, seeking to carry on life uninterrupted, all so we might continue fashioning ourselves as nobles. I have heard every song of the once-‘loyal’ Haeseni fleeing in pursuit of titles and power in foreign lands, wholly undeserving of such. And I know well that House Amador has not yet earned the right to such kindness and faith. There is no honor in taking lands, titles, and jobs from loyal Petrans solely because we once had them elsewhere. The notion simply does not make sense to me, and to consider it further would be a waste of my time. The next option I considered was to remain in Zvezlund and fight for our right to our land, just as our allies in Balian had, perhaps foolishly. But with what army, I asked. Myself? A son who, while intelligent and capable, could not tell a lance from a broom? His wife, newborns, and my husband who deserve not even a shadow of stress or strife? My daughters, who are not fit for battle? We have no extensive guard force, nor support from our fellow noble houses — rendering us as capable as any other family, high- or low-born, against the forces of entire nations. It would be suicide. But perhaps, had I chosen this path, I could have died with honor. A dullard, but an honorable one. And so, I have decided on the third option, and the one my son undoubtedly favored: to cower beneath that wing and settle House Amador in Karoslund. For, in absolute honesty, the only place we belong is beside our own people — where the spirit of our Lady Haense may yet live on. I find peace in this choice. Let it be known: her spirit does not reside within the names or titles of our once-noble houses — not Barbanov-Bihar or Ruthern, not Barclay or Colborn, not even Amador. Her spirit does not cling to our gold, our crowns, or our titles. Her spirit resides within those who are loyal and brave — those who support each other selflessly and who respect our land and culture. Though her spirit has now grown dim, I pray that one day it is restored to its former glory — a glory we have not seen or felt for decades. I pray that my grandchildren, and yours, and theirs after, will grow up to be champions of our people and culture — to live in the light of our Lady Haense. And I pray that we, as a people, will not fall into obscurity, melting into surrounding influences and doomed to haunt the margins of rotting history books. House Amador does not swear fealty to any house, person, or establishment — to be absolutely clear, this is to be of no disrespect to our previous, current, or future leaders. House Amador, now and forever on, will swear fealty only to the Haeseni and Ruskan. I will remain the head of my house until I am dead or otherwise indisposed, and my heir remains my firstborn child, Anaksandr Albus Amador, and his heir thereafter, Kristoff Isaak Amador. House Amador will seek to reignite the flame that once nurtured us in dark and cold times, and work to forge an independent land to call home, alongside our kin who too have settled in Karoslund, once more, for this is not the death of the phoenix, only the preparation for its rebirth. Bej lanzsk ve Haeseni ag Ruskan. •⋅ ─────────────────────⊱ ༺ ⋅☨⋅ ✵ ⋅☨⋅ ༻ ⊰───────────────────── ⋅• Matriarch of the House Amador & Haurultivsk of the Haeseni THE RISING TIDE OF AMADOR

Nerida lit a candle within the House Amador's new lodging in the Nornlands. She mourned the loss of her kin, a relic of the legacy of Albus.

Nerida Amador, ever the proud, led her house, and stood by her people.

not sure if this was added yet.......... but sailor moon is peak

The narrowed eyes of one, Nerida, read each word with scrutiny. A scoff was offered, here and there, coupled with a roll of her eyes. "— and they fashion themselves as kin of ours?" The Viscountess Amador snarled to her son. "What fools." @Koodini

MC Name: Melpomenne Discord: melpomenne Image: Description of Image: Right Side of a Cross Dimensions: 1x1

MC Name: Melpomenne Discord: melpomenne Image: Description of Image: Left Side of a Cross Dimensions: 1x1

Viscountess Nerida, the Court Astronomer, sat in her chaise lounge, enamored as she read — she was entirely captivated by her former pupil's illustrations and the fantastic descriptions that followed. She fanned her hand towards her son. @Koodini "Fetch mea five more copies, ea ought to distribute them... and ea'll pen the Lady Acelia, we must collaborate once more!"

Viscountess Amador, the kingdom's proudest mother, prepared a bundle of flowers for Lady Mahaut van Leuven, Queen Nadya of Novkursain, and her son, Lord Anaksandr, upon gaining notice of this news.

mischa florentina lesanova-barbanov nerida karlotta amador magda wieszcz ludovica francesca falcone

"Beautiful," remarked the Viscountess of Amador. "Ea pray Petyr is looking down upon his brood in pride."

♪♪♪ From Ashes, We Rise EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present •⋅ ───⊱ ༺⋅☨⋅ ✵ ⋅☨⋅ ༻ ⊰─── ⋅• RE: NOTICE OF A MISSING PERSON: SOSINA ADRIJANA AMADOR HAS BEEN FOUND PUBLISHED BY ON THIS HOLY YEAR OF 567 E.S. •⋅ ────────────────⊱ ༺ ✦ ༻ ⊰──────────────── ⋅• ART BY SHAYDELICIOUS To all who lent their aid in our time of uncertainty over the past year—House Amador extends its deepest gratitude. Sosina Adrijana Amador has made contact with her family. Though she has not yet returned home, we take solace in the knowledge that she is safe. To those who spread word of her absence, kept watch upon the roads, or offered prayers on her behalf, we are ever in your debt. May the Almighty Godan guide her steps and yours alike. The Right Honourable, Lady Nerida Karlotta, Viscountess of Zvezlund, Baroness of Mondstadt, Matriarch of the House Amador, Royal Secretary & Court Astronomer of Ve Nadziesk Kort

─────── PLEASE do not METAGAME this information. NONE of the events described below are public knowledge at this time and are ONLY known by the characters mentioned in the post. TRIGGER WARNING: ALLUSION TO SUICIDE ─────── °✵° ─────── THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE ────────────────────────────────────────────── The harsh, cold breeze was unkind. The wind, funneled up from the river and against the city’s walls, only sharpened its bite. The woman closed her eyes. Her pale face flushed red, and the tip of her nose grew numb. The sound of the river rushing below—swollen from the heavy rains upon Valdev the day before—made her stomach turn. Her eyes opened, and the sight shocked her. She trembled, as if she had wandered to the edge of the wall in her sleep. No—no, she knew where she was. She knew exactly where she was and why she was there. She visited this place often when her mind grew too loud, when it felt overrun with voices heralding their own thoughts. She looked down at her hands. In her right, she clutched a handful of missives—pleas for her missing daughter. In her left, the worn handle of a small dagger. ─────── °✵° ─────── For ten months, she had been tormented by the strangest dreams—falling stars, a battlefield painted in blood. They came to her each night. And her usual nightmares had not ceased; they layered upon the fresh ones, sinking deeper into her waking mind. She saw her grandmother, the late Queen Amaya, hanging in place of her murderer. She saw the severed head of Marius—her friend—beside her, in her arms, at her feet, floating pathetically in the river as though it had never belonged to a man who once lived and laughed. The dread followed her into the day. Her husband had long since left their bed—he always did, the loving and kind man, he woke up each day with purpose. She would rise only around noon, left to wallow in the dark of their chambers. Dressed, now, she would drift down the corridor of empty rooms, slowing as she passed the quarters of her eldest children—her twins. Once, their names had been carved into a sign above the door, but it had been beaten down, left shattered upon the floor, flecked with dried blood. She never entered. She could not. Visions followed her already—of her daughter, discarded in the cold, starved, eaten, beaten. She could not bear to see the place where she should have been. Where she had once been safe. And then, always, her mind would turn on itself. A voice—not her own. “Had ea known vy were this weak, ea would have never agreed to our little pact.” It echoed, “Vyr children are gone, and all vy can do is wallow in sorrow.” “Vy-vy malignant bitch!” She squealed, nails digging into the flesh surrounding her ears. “Ea’m doing all ea can!” “Evidently niet. Else they’d be in this room, mm?” – “Nie true Haeseni-born woman would sit so idly by. Vy remind me of the wailing women of Aaun.” A chuckle. The woman leaned forth, knocking her head against the wall in frustration, as if her pain would transfer to the one tormenting her. “Silence… Silence!” She pleaded with a shriek, her voice bellowed throughout the empty halls of Mondstadt. The voice sighed, the annoyance in its voice nearly palpable. “Had ea still lived, that boy would already be at mea mercy.” – “Vy know it was him. Perhaps he had the girl believe he ‘loved’ her, and stole her away into the night” Pushed herself up against the wall, slowly sliding down until she found herself sitting upon the floor. “Yes - … yes, that boy.” — “Vy speak with reason, at last.” ─────── °✵° ─────── The woman’s gaze lingered upon the things she held. She knew she had to let go—one or the other. Hope over solace, or solace over hope, she thought to herself. She was so tired, you see. So drained of it all. The weight of her station—of her children, her house, the viscounty, herself—had become unbearable. She had never imagined it would be so… much. She had idolized the steadfast women of her community. They were strong, wise. They balanced everything upon a perfectly manicured finger. That’s all she had ever wanted. But she was weak, broken down by maladies and betrayals that never seemed to cease. She could not help it. Nor could the people around her. “He is old enough, mea boy,” she quietly justifies aloud, “and Moryana is independent. She does nie need me - she never did.” A hand opened. The three pages drifted away, carried by the river’s breath against Valdev’s red walls before sinking into the mud below. She watched as the portrait of her daughter disappeared into the sludge. Nerida readied her blade. For a moment, she saw a glimpse of her. Her long, chestnut brown hair and eyes — one much lighter than the other. She pressed the tip to her stomach. Three sharp, short breaths. Then— A voice. Not her own. Not the one that haunted her. His. “What are you doing here, my love?” Her grip faltered. The blade slipped from her grasp, clattering against the stone walls before tumbling after the missives below. She gasped—silent, but shaken. Realizing. Realizing what could have been. What she could have done. And there she stood, pathetic, upon that wall. A man looming behind her. The moon looking down in silence. ──────────────────────────────────────────────

♪♪♪ [!] This missive would be seen posted along the streets of Valdev and distributed to wayward travellers by weary paper-men. From Ashes, We Rise EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present •⋅ ───⊱ ༺⋅☨⋅ ✵ ⋅☨⋅ ༻ ⊰─── ⋅• NOTICE OF A MISSING PERSON: SOSINA ADRIJANA AMADOR PUBLISHED BY ON THIS HOLY YEAR OF 566 E.S. •⋅ ────────────────⊱ ༺ ✦ ༻ ⊰──────────────── ⋅• ART BY SHAYDELICIOUS It is with a heart burdened by sorrow that I, as Matriarch of House Amador and mother, must announce the troubling disappearance of my eldest daughter, Sosina. She is missing, and I beseech all kind souls to keep vigilant watch upon the roads, within the bounds of Valdev, and throughout the neighboring settlements for any sign of her. Sosina departed in the stillness of the night, seemingly of her own accord, bearing with her great bags that hold the bulk of her belongings. My only wish, above all else, is to know that she is safe. To my beloved daughter, if these words should reach your eyes, I implore you—send word to your mother. The Right Honourable, Lady Nerida Karlotta, Viscountess of Zvezlund, Baroness of Mondstadt, Matriarch of the House Amador, Royal Secretary & Court Astronomer of Ve Nadziesk Kort

Magda sat in silence, unknowing of Elren's passing, but reminiscent of her youth and the role he played in it. After all, with every plate she saw, she thought of the gluttonous man who became a beast.