brujera

The harbor of Alba lay shrouded in a thick pall of early morning gray, the salt sea restless as the waves crashed against the Blackclyffes with a hollow and mournful cadence. A lone vessel, weather-worn and salt-scarred, crept slowly into port against the morning tide. Her sails hung slack like a veil of mourning. High in the morning dawn, and stirred by the winds of wisp, flew a sable banner charged by an eclipsed sun-by-moon. From the gangway descended a solitary figure, cloaked wholly in black, a shroud heavy as her heart. A veil obscured her face, as she moved slowly, creeping across the threshold of land and sea. Then came the sound, breaking the ceasefire of quiet and turmoil, familiar and hollow thumps raged against the salt-clad wooden boards beneath her feet. Slowed and steadied were the rhythms of her cane, striking hard in tandem with the waves. Each step advanced–CLACK!, CLACK!–toward a new world, unseen by her war-torn gaze. No retinue followed, no voice called out in welcome. Murmurs stirred at last, as realization fell upon them as tolls upon a bell, Jacquetta of Bruges has returned.

“He is gone.” The Empress’s chambers fell to a silence so deep that even the morning air dared not be too raucous. Elizabeth stood where the maids had last left her, the weight of her husband's passing laying waste to her thin and frail frame. The candles of which illuminated her chambers burned low, their soot collecting on the wrought candelabras in thick chalky layers, as the flames bent and wavered. Grief had afforded Elizabeth seldom sleep in the past fortnight. “I am not made for this without you…” Still, Elizabeth called to him, and spoke as if Hadrian was soon to deliver mighty wit. Her hands hung at her sides, useless and still as the marble statues in the garden seen from her window. “I did love him for a time.” Her voice broke then, no longer speaking to him, but of Hadrian. She reached for the studded back of a chair, steadying her weak gait. Sat, she clenched at the fabric of her silken gown, hands trembling. Her tears streamed freely, now, unheeded. The Empress of Azuras bowed her head, though not in ceremony, but utter devastation. “Rosceline… if ever misfortune chose its victims, then surely it has chosen I. You once spoke that we were alike in suffering… Tell me now, is this what you meant? This… Emptiness that devours all that is dear?” To her sister in all but name, she spoke. “If there is mercy beyond this world, this place… Find him. Tell he that I was not ready to brunt this burden in my lonesome.” @amyselia

It was with a heavy heart that the Empress of Azuras sent the Lady Susanna a large bouquet of white florals.

The Empress of Azuras stood atop the ramparts of the Steele casting her gaze towards the neverending horizon of her Empire.

As the Empress awoke from her slumber to the familiar sweet smell of herbs, she found Wilfrieda at her bedside at the ready. After a few exchanged whispers, Elizabeth let out a sigh. "It is unfortunate to see the breakdown of a marriage, however Johannes is young. Women from across Our Empire shall stop at nothing to win his affections. Our Prince shall be just fine."

can we please get a dislike button?

"Black," She affirmed with a nod. "White gloves were preferred by the GODLESS Novellan Emperors."

The 'woman who Hadrian happened to marry' beamed from ear to ear upon hearing the news. "GLORY unto Canondom, for GOD is victor."

"GLORY unto Canondom, goode Husband. Cast out these heretics whom seek to see Our Empire fall to the hand of Ibleesian plots."

The Holy Empress of Man read the apostolic missive as it was laid upon the long table before her. As her gaze scanned across "EXCOMMUNICATION" and "MANDATE to RULE", she let out a cackle. "The little gnome threatens the mandate of The Seven Skies as if it his to dispense. An Imp upon a borrowed chair presumes to command Man. Let it be known he shall not. Glory unto Canondom, and hellfire unto the True Faith."

Elizabeth's quarters laid in near darkness, the only light of a lone candle held within her grasp. The emerald necklace her mother had once clasped at her throat lay discarded there, its brilliance dulled in her anguish. "What sin have I not atoned for, what vow have I not kept, that Thou shouldst heap sorrow upon sorrow?"

Penned by, Her Imperial Highness, the Duchess of Grense Anno Domini, 7th of Tobias's Bounty, 2046 The Birth of Pontia c. 2046 (Enamel on Gold) (From left to right) Jane of Dover, Rosceline of Aryn (Posthumous), Unnamed Courtier, Unnamed Nursemaid, Pontia of Man, Unnamed Midwife, Elizabeth of Balamena A MOTHER’S PRAYER, SET FORTH FROM THE BOOK OF PRAYERS Saint Julia, wife of Horen and mother of Mankind, pray for my husband and children. Grant them length of days, happiness of heart and purity of spirit. But pray for me also, so that I might defend my children from Iblees, bring them up to piety, and, in doing so, do God’s work: the salvation of souls. et it be known unto all, that by the unfailing mercy of His Lord Almighty, beneath his divine power and providence, on this day, 7th of Tobias’ Bounty, 2045 the year of our lord, within the sanctified confines of the Castle Tiberias, Her Imperial Highness Elizabeth of Balamena hath been laid to bed after thirty-three hours of labour, and the delivery of the Imperial coupling’s fifth issue. The Princess was, after a travail of many hours and with the attendance of the most learned of physicians, delivered in safe harmony into our mortal realm. Her blessing, as performed by a clergyman of the Holy Mother Church, was done in the Holy Rite in swaddles of white silk. By the Lord’s august mercy, both mother and babe are in stout health. The Princess, second daughter to Imperial Coupling, shows the making of superb health in every measure: Her cry is strong and lusty, her countenance fair and pink, her limbs strong and well formed, and her grasp full and firm. Full dark locks crown her head, and verdant eyes mark her as a trueborn scion of the dragon. Furthermore, in witness and confirmation of this rightful nativity, the Arbiter Draconis hath been made personally present for her birth, to attest to her dragonblooded lineage. Rejoice, fair sons of Horen, for the blood the Dragon runs strong, and hath now been made secure with the birth of our fifth heir. @ncarr

From the ocean beyond Aevos, a merchant vessel set for Aeldin made through a torrential storm. The small cabin groaned and creaked with every heave of the ship, its tar-covered timbers soaked in briny saltwater and shadowed by a dim lantern that swung like a pendulum above Jacquetta's head. Clad in a veil of deep ebony, she lay prostrate upon a narrow cot, her hands raw from clutching the coarse metalwork of her prayer beads as sobs of anguish wracked her thin frame. Outside, the sea raged against the hull, waves striking like siege engines upon castle walls. It was as if the ocean itself sought to drag Jacquetta down into its depths to join her son in death. Though she had taken another name to conceal the shame of treachery, no disguise could shield her from the relentless grief that gnawed at her soul. “Would that God in His mercy take this wretch, as He hath taken my child.”

The Crown Princess of Man mourned silently within the walls of Castle Tiberian, as she put her quill to parchment. After a travail of hours, the Princess stood from her writing desk, a letter penned and sealed with an Alban rose held in her grasp. Elizabeth brought the ivory parchment to her lips, planting a kiss upon it. At once, she lanced it into the flames of her fireplace, the fire and brimstone burning her last words to her dearly beloved Rosceline. "The aenguls weep for their Princess now ascended."

Penned by, Her Imperial Highness, the Duchess of Grense Anno Domini, 25th of Harren's Folly, 2045 The Imperial Coupling c. 2043 The Princess Elizabeth of Balamena, and the Crown Prince Hadrian Tiberias et it be known unto all, that by the unfailing mercy of His Lord Almighty, beneath his divine power and providence, on this day, 24th of the Harren's Folly, 2045 the year of our lord, within the sanctified confines of the Castle Tiberias, Her Imperial Highness Elizabeth of Balamena hath been laid to bed after thirty hours of labour, and the delivery of the Imperial coupling’s third and fourth issue. The Prince and Princess were, after a travail of many hours and with the attendance of the most learned of physicians, delivered in safe harmony into our mortal realm. His blessing, as performed by a clergyman of the Holy Mother Church, was done in the Holy Rite in swaddles of white silk. By the Lord’s august mercy, both mother and babes are in fine health. The twin babes, the third son and first daughter, show the hallmarks of fine health in every measure: their voices loud and hearty, their countenance pinkish, limbs well formed, and grasps full and firm. Full dark locks crown their heads, and verdant eyes mark them as trueborn scion of the dragon. Furthermore, in witness and confirmation of this rightful nativity, the Arbiter Draconis hath been made personally present for their birth, to attest to their dragonblooded lineage. Rejoice, fair sons of Horen, for the blood the Dragon runs strong, and hath now been made secure with the birth of our third and fourth heirs. @Milenkhov @hopey