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About PerfectlyPeachy

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  • Character Name
    Henrietta Theresé / Angelika Irena
  • Character Race
    Human / Human

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  1. Angelika sits within her room in Dun an Ein, peering over the contents of her invitation for an extended amount of time. She sits there for what feels like hours, as if she had been carved from stone itself. Finally, she carefully folds the parchment and presses a palm to her bedcovers, pushing herself up to a stand. Her hand raises to toy with a ring that so often lay hanging from her neck, only to remember once again, she had given that away, too.
  2. Angelika listens to this song, on repeat, until she hates it.
  3. Even with her life now removed from the courts of Haense, Angelika was still eager to read the latest publishing of the Hearsay. She was surprised to find that, instead of being slated, she had seemed to be complimented by the author! My my, a vixen? Such is enough to make a lady blush.
  4. Angelika hugs the invitation to her chest, and immediately begins to prepare a gown of her own.
  5. This notice finds it's way to Dorothea's aunt, who scowls upon the parchment. "What a frightful little weasel, attempting to force my sweet Dorothea into such a union! Utterly skin-crawling, eugh."
  6. Discord Tag: PerfectlyPeachy#2379Skin Name: Lady WitcherBid(s): 12 usd
  7. Angelika Irena excitedly babbled to her sister-in-law Marie about the rescue, squeezing water out of her braid as they marched home.
  8. Angelika had become invested in the state of Savoy ever since her sister moved to their nation, clutching the missive in hand. She had been within their halls when such was announced, and she felt so frustrated that still, when faced with her wrongdoings, Carolina could not set aside her pride or entitlement. It was simply infuriating. “Ea hope maybe she will begin her repentance by telling His Serene Highness the whereabouts of his little borsa.” She commented to Stefaniya upon her next visit to Savoy.
  9. Angelika Irena proudly rallied for her country, did you?
  10. ‘Twas like stirring from a restful slumber. Slowly, did her eyes open, fluttering to life as she woke. She lay there within her bed, undead eyes staring upward and toward the ceiling, wracked with confusion and melancholy. She could not remember. Why could she not remember? There she remained, silent, attempting to piece together the parts of a mismatched puzzle, torturing herself with the desperate need to know. Alas, she could not, and thus she slowly began to rise. It was as if she were being forced to wade through a river of tar, with the current working against her. Each timid step took a substantial amount of effort, a shudder of exertion rolling down her spine, bleary eyes attempting to peer past that haze of impenetrable fog that clouded her judgment. She felt as if she had had this dream before, a terror of which she could not force herself to wake. She felt an intense and deep-rooted longing within her very soul as if a part of her spirit had been ripped from her being with a malicious bout of laughter. "I'm lost." She heard a small voice cry, a gentle warble upon the wind of her confusion. Thus, she knew what she had lost, and what she had to find. Perhaps if you found yourself pacing through a darkened hallway, or peering into a mirror for a moment too long, you might spy a shadowy figure aimlessly traipsing the halls of the Prikaz, mournfully wailing for her forgotten daughter. Rumors begin to circulate throughout Haense, and perhaps these fabled stories reach the ears of those outside of the northern province. They say a mournful woman resembling that of the Dowager of Alban now stalks Nikirala Prikaz, forced to aimlessly wander the lands of Almaris forevermore.
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