WhimsicalOwl

The letter reached Edith in her sleep, awaiting her during her daily walk to the aviary - rarely did she wander too far from her bees now. It felt wrong, the words she was reading - what sick joke was this? Her niece had been so young, so surely- surely this is what such was. Though, despite the denial, as grief once again reared its ugly head like a monster Edith could never escape no matter how much she prayed, she'd slump against the wall she'd stood by. "Oh, Johanna- you were so young..." the aging woman, who did not yet quite look her age, sighs. "Worry not, for you have not, and could never disappoint me." She'd light a candle, each night following the news. Thoughts drifted to Caius, and the company her niece had found in him. Edith could do nothing but utter prayers for the boy, and the future ahead of him.

"FINALLY, a grandchild," Edith exclaims, though otherwise content to continue taking care of her bees. "'bout time, really,"

[!] Trembling hands grasped the letters that had arrived to her, as the grieving woman struggled to grasp the feeling of absence, not unfamiliar - and yet, nothing had ever hurt Edith- Lenora- quite like this. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ Out of all the people in the young Vuiller's life, even above her own mother, had Lenora looked up to her father the most. Her father- who no matter how busy he was, had always made time for her. No matter how much love she held for her mother, her aunts and uncles, it was her pa that she sought to make proud the most. Perhaps it was that fact that had set her on this path of hers, what had made her turn away from the streets of Balian, warm beaches replaced with white walls and citrus trees - and most importantly, the bees. If her mother had still been alive, when her grandfather had burdened her with that choice all those years ago, would she have chosen differently? What if, what if, she had always hated 'what ifs'. No. The answer was no. Her pa was more important than anything. No matter what cards she had been dealt. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ Most letters, Edith had the habit of tossing away, but not her father's. No, this one would be preserved - as was decided by her grief ridden mind from the moment it fell into her grasp, tucked neatly within the frame of her father's portrait. As for Helena's. . . ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ She remembered those stressful times so clearly - the conflict, arguments that the then de Senna had always preferred to avoid. Family isn't meant to fight, a lesson she had learned from her father, long before these arguments seemed like a possibility. For so long had Edith put Helena's existence out of her mind, memories too closely tied with the spiral of her twin to ever unpack. Maybe that, in the end, was why that fragile bond of theirs had never mended - not out of hatred, but out of avoidance. Though she had her own regrets, at least Edith could rest knowing their last words spoken would be out of forgiveness.

"Hehe, nice!" Edith cheers for her little sister!!

Edith gives a massive thumbs up to her daughter's missive!

"People should definitely invest in shops here," Edith nods repeatedly, shoving copies into the hands of whoever she came across along her travels.

"This invitation is difficult to read," Edith shakes her head, "over-complicated- eurgh, I'll just assume I'm invited."

"A scheming, no good woman from the start - if only people weren't so blind as to not see it," Edith comments, a hand placed upon a portrait of Lorena. "Justice now, by whoever's hand, shall be served."

"Eugh," Edith sneered, gazing upon the parchment with disdain. "Spineless- he should be dead." A deep breath, and then a sigh escapes her. "-but, judgement as far as that goes, has already been cast." Sadly did she think of her cousin, and how Adrian had betrayed her so carelessly. "Eurgh, may I never cross paths with that fool again."

Likewise did Avarine roll in her grave at such a blatant lie, the tradition clearly having been started by her dead godfather.

Edith most certainly had mixed emotions over this one, but hey! At least THIS marriage had at least gotten their father's approval, unlike someone's. . . "Well, at least she's getting married, I guess. Thought it would never happen - even if she abandoned her faith. . ." Edith did grumble to herself, "I'll be the only one of my little family attending, though, I do reckon. If only because Eirene is like, one of the two original siblings I have left, and so clearly amongst the favourites. . ." she'd ramble, quite stubborn in her disapproval in the faith related side of things. "What to gift them, what to gift them. . . eurgh, I'll have to figure it out before we go to WAR!"

"All it took was one incident in Reinmar. . ." did Edith Barclay muse, finding humour in it more than anything. "Looks like Fred went through all that trouble getting a license for nothing- a waste of time, pfah." At least the injured would not have to fear death just because there was never any physicians or medics around now. Why were they never around when you need them?

Actually insane

"FINALLY" Edith cheers at how cool Ezra is

"What?" an old friend of the now dead duke frowned, having snagged the missive amongst her... 'friendly and totally not malicious' travels in the badlands. Only later did she actually sit to read it, "Aedric? What? I mean, he's always been incredibly stupid - but surely not this stupid. . ." - "Those Greyes, always getting into trouble, pfah." She didn't weep, even as a sense of sadness washed over her. Regret, that just like every other death of those she had known, she'd not get the chance to give her farewells, was all the she'd feel for her friend. "Well- when the orcs fall I hope that Peter fellow is the first to lose his head, hrmph, sounds like he deserves it." A swiftly penned letter would be sent out, offering her condolences for the family's loss.

Avarine Greye was born different, or so she had always thought. Her brothers, so lively and social - happy. Why were they always so happy when Avarine could only ever be sad? It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. It never would be, not to her, never to her. She could still remember all of their faces, the older she got - not just her pa and brothers, but Astrid, Auntie Jo, Mons, Rylee. . . she may have avoided the war that would tear her home apart, but they did not. Their absence would haunt her, adding to that list of regrets as if to mock her. You never got to say goodbye to them, Avarine. You abandoned them. Disappointment. Words her conscience whispered to her in the dark hours of night would forever leave her shaken - and so she drank. Hoping, praying, to forget. Lotharia, she had found, was awful in her humble opinion. Was it the people? The location? She didn't know - but seeing her family there, again after so many years apart. . . guilt ate at her like a parasite. She couldn't live with them if she wished to keep her sanity, she just couldn't. Avarine Greye was better to be known from a distance, for the ugly parts of herself were far too plain to see up close. You killed them. You did it, Avarine, but why does your mother still not wish to return with you? A cry from the trees, an infant in a basket dangling so helplessly from a branch. Avarine had considered leaving him there - she wasn't fit to raise a child, always running from the sadness she would never be able to escape. Yet, those big eyes of a child far too young to be left alone almost seemed to hold the same sadness that she did, made her heart ache. Life wasn't fair to him either. I'll name you. . . Aelyn. Is that a bona name for an elf? Avarine kept the young elf close, within the walls of her home. The Imperial Capital probably wasn't the best place for an elf, or so at the time, but it was better than the wilderness in which she used to camp. Better than the suffocating feeling of guilt. She taught him everything she had known - how to survive, how to be strong. Was that all she knew though? To survive? Had she truly ever lived? Then as he grew older, bonding with her siblings - proud was she to see them welcome the young 'ker into their fold. Proud that even if it had the only thing she had ever done right, it was that her son was loved. Yet still, those whispers of doubt within her mind kept haunting her, and her drinks became stronger. Distance, she needed more distance. They were all too close again. So distant she once again became. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── "I'll always be proud of you." whispered an eternally sad woman from her place in the skies, "Forgive me, Aelyn. Forgive me."

Edith, who had witnessed her now distant family's split - a family she had once been part of, could only stare at the proclamation for a moment. Time was a funny thing, for while her memory fell short on the words once spoken from anger and betrayal - she'd never forget the struggles it had caused. For herself, her siblings- and Aera, her beloved cousin whom she had and forever would call her sister. I told you so. Those words echoed in her mind, born from years of pondering what all those years wasted on old grudges and broken bonds could have been. A bitter laugh escapes her, the parchment crumpling in her grasp before it would find itself being hurled towards her fireplace. "So now they see reason--" audibly would she grumble, "--all that drama, and look where they are now. I hope it was worth it for them-- if they had just left way back in Balian, as Aera had pleaded. . . eurgh," "Let this new generation of Vuillers learn from the past," finally would she concede, "it looks good on them, to be brought so low when they could have had more. I'm sure Aera's spouting nothing but complaints about this, pfah!"

A woman, once a de Senna, squints down at the mention of her family's name. First in confusion, then in disgust that this fool would even mention her family. "Eugh, more propaganda from the badlands - what fool could possibly take this seriously?" Edith takes a moment to ponder the entertaining writings of a man seeking attention. Still though, she could at least commend him for the courage to speak out - as foolish as his take was. "No matter the state of things, life will always go on. May this man one day realize that if he spent more time with his kin than putting ink to parchment against a foe he cannot possibly defeat, he'd be much happier."

Edith, though having not seen the missive herself, hears the news directly from her cousin herself. Opinionless on the matter of stepping down, all she can utter is a simple string of words... "Shame on you, Adrian. Dishonorable, even. Shame." And so would Edith continue on her merry way, faster than usual as she really hated the cold.

"Good luck to her. . ." Edith sighs, lamenting about her sister's terrible taste in suitors. "If a man desperate for anything he can get is someone that appeals to you, fine. S'not like the rest of us will have need of interacting with that lot." "They never learn their lessons, pfah"

"I never was all that good at gift-giving. . ." did Edith mutter, "We'll figure it out."

"Hrmm," ponders Edith as her eyes skim over the paper, a pleased smile upon her face. "Good. Such disloyalty should not be left unpunished. May they all be punished for such treason," She reads over the missive one last time, before tossing it aside. "May that Grand Duke of theirs find peace in being righteous - cowardly is it to force someone to make such a decision under duress." ------ Meanwhile, Avarine can only utter a prayer for her brother, of whom she had blindly supported in his endeavors without thought or care. Though- it would seem she'd ignore the summons she kept receiving from her kin, far too concerned with taking a nice nap.

Edith releases a relieved sigh, after the months upon months of stress from helping her family return to normalcy. "Back to normal, good. Let us not endure anymore of these incidents. . ." Briefly did she stare at a portrait of her sister Lorena ( @TaraJess ), something akin to a look of spite upon her face. "With enough patience, we have seen to it that your mess has been cleaned up, little sister." After tracing the Lorraine and uttering a small prayer for one of her lost siblings, she tucks the missive away.

"That was a little too easy," Avarine ponders "but who cares - we've succeeded for the moment. May Lotharia improve from now on, and not the reverse." --------------------------- Meanwhile, much later, as her daughter hands her a missive, Edith squints at the parchment with clear confusion in her eyes. "Have they gone insane? Pfah - leave it to the Lotharians. . ." - "They'll tear themselves apart, before they realize that if they were really so unhappy, leaving was a much better option for them."