virgosgroove

Florence Vivien de Vienne stood in the square of Kanunsberg, the obsidian and gold silks of her skirts clutched in her left hand, to keep them from touching the cobbles below. She dispensed the missives announcing Robert's candidacy, flashing ivory smiles at those who took them from her hand. "My husband is the only man fit for this role... let the Kanun be in the hands of a man who has stood by this country his whole life."

Florence Vivien de Vienne stood between ivory drapes, staring into a body-length mirror that showed both herself and the flurry of handmaids that scurried about her, busily tending to the dress she wore. With her flaxen hair combed over her shoulder, twisted and brushed tidily, she had one of the girls read aloud the missive sent out about her wedding. "Oh, it is truly real... at last, GOD gave me a husband." The middle-aged woman, face powdered and frame awfully slim, could not conceal the smile that spread fast across her face. Eyes twinkling with tears, she clutched the pearls about her throat, squeezing them some. "It will be the most beautiful thing Aaun has ever seen." She swore, staring distantly then out the window at the rolling countryland of the kingdom. Lost in her own wistful reverie, she was only brought back by a pin that stabbed too far into the silk of her wedding dress! "Ow-h!"

Florence sat by the candlelight of her Kanunsberg apartment, busily penning invites to her wedding in the coming months. With the tasty notes of pear and grape on her lips from the wine she had so generously consumed that night, she flicked past the missive regarding the newly established Whitespire inn. With her hyacinth eyes bright, she held it close, squinting some to read more closely. "Oh, oui, oui! Robert!" She cried, waving the missive as she rose, spotting him patrolling the streets from her window perch. "We must go! Aromatic wines, they say, aromatic!"

Margaret, leading a mule down the Aaunic mountainous paths, jingles with coins, heading to the site as to deposit the funds she had raised!

Mother Margaret read and heard of these people, disdain wrinkling across her face. Getting older, she trusted her gut more than ever before, and what she heard of these folk only made her skin cold.

Margaret stood by a small boulder, by the hovels that stood alongside the river outside of Minitz. At her feet, was a basket of alms, from which she pulled and offered to the various plebeians and common people that massed around her. As she noticed the missives present about them, she felt compelled to speak upon the matters. "Throughout history and across the realms of Man, narcotics and their extremities have been regarded as threats to the virtue, health and stability of mankind. The mootspeople of Minitz could not explain their refutation, but stayed strong-willed in their ignorance. Tonight, we shall pray, and we shall hope that if Man's Law may not protect the country of Minitz from the threat and corruption of these drugs, then may GOD's Will protect you all. Minitz chooses a life in the backward, and may that choice serve them as it will. For GOD knows what they do, and only GOD knows the true fortitude of a man." The nun then led the people into a mass prayer, one that asked GOD to protect themselves, their families and their country from the threat that narcotics posed. DEUS VULT. Rumours of Margaret's mass would soon be spread throughout the city.

Margaret grumbles as she hands out bread in the square of Minitz to all those in need of alms. "I always knew there was something wrong with that family... those Caelians."

Margaret read the treatise at her desk underground beneath the rubble of a church outside Barrowton. In the dim candelight of her cell, she thinned her lips and ran her fingers over the grain in the table wood. "It is true, it is all true... the gates of Haense seldom rise, the crows seek carrion in a square that otherwise should be lively. The might of Haense feels pale, feels fleeting... almost feels gone." Setting the treatise down amongst the various other sheets of parchment she collected, she ruminated on the arguments and analysis made.

Margaret had stood within the swathe of Minitz citizens as Karl had ascended as Lord Regent. Her thin lips were drawn into a thinner smile as she watched on in quiet approval of the gentleman, for she knew of his fortitude, his intellect and his commitment to the nation. Clad in her clerical habit, she headed into the church as she sought audience with the lord, missives and parchments clutched in her hand. "GOD is good... may He bless this tenure." She prayed as she went.

Lucia Augusta had the missive read aloud to her from a handmaid as she was fitted for a buttermilk-colored gown. "Mhmhm, Père has been looking forward to this."

Lucia Augusta flipped through the pages of her family's history, eyes wide and full of fascination!

Lucia Augusta looked to her father as they sat by a pond in Haute-Epine, furrowing her brows. Too young to know of the violent past, she simply sat, believing it to be another distant tale of human conflict.

Florence de Vienne cheers for her friend, Gregory!

Lucia Augusta beamed as she spent many mornings watching her baby brother play, blow raspberries and wail as incessant infants do.

Florence de Vienne smiled brightly upon finishing reading the missive with her cup of tea. "How beautifully written!"