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ivery

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Everything posted by ivery

  1. Though good sense keeps her from reading it at length where it hangs, Deia need only read one line to feel compelled to free the missive and fold it carefully into halves. Wherever she carries on from there, it burns in her pocket like smoldering coal.
  2. It happened so fast. Within moments of the shadows crawling across the peaceful flower field, a heavy blow to the head sent Deia sprawling. Only when the fighting ended, white petals torn and sprayed by blood, did her eyes open to scan the blurry landscape. She saw Leonid, shredded by claws, and Villorik, piercing the back of some demonic creature with vicious intent- but where, where... She saw Amaya, peacefully laying in a pool of her own blood. Her world shattered to pieces. Villorik was saying something ("Don't deny her death, she died in glory-") over Leonid's bellowing ("- slay you one day, I swear it!-") She was saying something. (A constant chant, "No no no no no-") Without thought, a gap of memory, she has Amaya in her arms. She presses her hands to the wound fruitlessly ("Perhaps we can- we can still save her-" "Stop, just stop-") and then, when it finally dawns on her, as she feels the warmth of a hand on her shoulder for the last time, she holds her Queen's body to her chest and wails. The miraculous may follow, and a crowd along with it, but she holds her all the same. An army could not part them.
  3. Within the darkened chambers of the Queen, Deia remains steadily at her bedside, fetching whatever she might need and welcoming in visitors at the door with a stern warning to be quiet and gentle. In the moments between visits, where it is only Queen and loyal handmaiden, she whispers with her back and forth of kinder times - of painting together and her favorite cocoa recipe, of her precious gemstones that she's bid to bring to promote a clear mind and healthy body. In the bravest of moments, they speak of a future to look forward to- one of travel, of fresh air, as soon as she recovers. It is only when she has coaxed Amaya to a fitful sleep that she buries her head in her hands and prays for her words to be truth.
  4. It had all happened so fast. An innocent chance meeting on the street that turned an especially merry day into a nightmare. In her heart, Deia knew it had begun long before that- from the moment her precious sister was taken from the field of flowers- but she'd so firmly believed there was a chance at happiness. A chance for everything to return to what it was, and simply be, forever-lasting. Now, sitting in the clinic bed alone, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, there's a hollow feeling in her chest where she'd poured it out. A slow trickle in the garden, years ago, a steady stream in the low light of the Basilica, and finally the waterfall that soaked Ruthern's keep in blood. What could she have changed, for a different outcome? Should she have trusted less, or said more? As she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she has no answers- only those last words echoing in her ears. She glances to the side at last, through the lattice at the man sleeping in the next cot. ("My darling sister. I will not let the wolves take you for his sins," Laelia whispered, and sealed the promise in blood.) With a dour frown, she rolls over to face the wall instead.
  5. The moment the missive reaches Haense, one young handmaiden audibly gasps and takes off from her post to search for two specific dear friends. Her second-hand excitement is mostly incoherent, but when she reaches her fellow palace staff she can be heard blubbering, "Look look look!" @RingAroundRosey @Koodini
  6. Within the palace, Deia looked over the Queen's shoulder at her invitation, concern evident in the devastated look it wrought. "Your majesty.." she offers at first, seeking to soothe her distress, only for the words on the page to register. "I'm in a what?" she asks the open air. It takes her some time to startle out of it with a shake of her head. "Your majesty, perhaps you might attach the Lord Marshal's report.."
  7. As the handmaiden Deia delivers the news, her voice terribly hushed, she bows her head down to not see how the Queen's expression grows distraught. She cannot bear it, no more than she can bear the news herself. It is a scandal beyond reckoning, made worse by their presence in court. The Princess Nataliya had always been an oddly fitting piece in the palace to the servantry, and especially to her mother-in-law's handmaidens. No matter how polite she was, never to raise a cruel hand, they could not help but be intimidated when comparing her nature to that of the Queen of the People. The efforts of a single lantern are barely noticeable when placed beneath the blazing sun. In truth, many of them avoided her, in trepidation for the eventual succession. But at the scandal, such frigidity started to melt. For their Princess caution became sympathy- "Did you hear?" "Her poor Highness.." - and it was the bastard prince and his mother that were carefully avoided. Little trinkets offered- cheap but meaningful to whatever culture the maid had come from, gentle compliments while braiding her hair; they could not have announced their support more obviously without forming a protective circle around Nataliya like clucking hens. As for the Crown Prince, well- if they neglected to let the mouser into his study as often as they should, no one would know but the rats.
  8. ivery

    iv3ry

    You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Deia clutches at the very edge of her shawl, eyeing the tent with her mouth in a taut line. About as trusting as a kicked dog, she nearly rears back when she spots the hag in the shadows. Carefully straightening her spine, she speaks up- voice deceptively light. "I'm a traveler." There's something airy in the way she's said it, as though she's said it a hundred times before. "Me and my sister, travelling for the change in seasons. I'm sure you get a lot of those during the spring thaw." Sure enough, everything about her posture points to her being poised to dart off again, if it's a choice between that and sharing too much.
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