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EmiliainWonderland

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About EmiliainWonderland

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    Aehmi#9078
  • Minecraft Username
    Aehmi/AShortEmi

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Chloe Giselle de Rosius
  • Character Race
    Human

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  1. As Fleur was preparing to meet the Barclay her cousin tried to introduce her to, she heard the dreadful news. It felt like her heart had shattered in her chest. "Lucrece, my sweet elder sister." She sobbed silently into her hands. "I met Louis, but I never got to see you again. It's been so many years that we've been apart and it seems it will be many years more. I shall see you when I arrive in the Seven Skies, Lucy."
  2. "Can we not let sleeping dogs lie?" Muttered Emilia Rhodon at the mention of the old prince returning. "Oren was nothing but boring after the last Emperor. Godspeed to my family in Petra and Aaun. I pray you make the right choice."
  3. The grumpy Maria de Rosius grumbled from the Seven Skies. "Not these guys again..."
  4. Emilia is excited to try her hand at the drinking contest!
  5. The recruit who watched the execution, Emilia Rhodon scoffed. "You will hear no forgiveness towards a homosexual from me. He is glad GOD himself did not smite him before they found out of his other deeds."
  6. The time my wood elf got sacrificed by a man called "The Frog" who was a big frog and used my soul to make some kind of golem I think? I dunno I was like 15.
  7. Emilia was happy for the Captain and the Princess. "Ave Balian!" Said the recruit.
  8. "Here at last Amelia." Maria smiled seeing her old friend. "We missed you." In the depths of Nor'asath in Draskur's Corner 2, Yvonne heard the news of her last living relative finally passing. The pain she felt losing her father, losing her brother. Nothing compared to how she felt losing her mother. As soon as the news reached her, she fled from home running as fast as her legs would take her to her only friend, Jack Teufel. @AehkajShe wrapped her arms around Jack and sobbed. "She's gone Jack, she's gone and I never got the chance to say goodbye."
  9. Emilia noticed the invitation her sister of all people, frowning.
  10. "There is no Valens." Emilia Rhodon sighed. "I'd hope he'd update it instead of inviting a dead woman."
  11. The Will and Testament of Giselle "Chloe" de Rosius To my daughters, I leave my house, my jewelry, and my belongings to be split amongst them with the exception of any canonist items which will go to my son, Gaius. To Elaria, I give the right to marry whomever she'd please without the strain of asking for permission, be happy mon pigeon. To my son Rev Otis, you get nothing, perhaps you should've contributed to society in some meaningful way or at all. To His Majesty, John Casimir, I return the title of Barony of Valens to you and your kingdom and ask that should anyone ever come to claim it, you make them earn it. To Emir de Endor, I leave nothing but my sincerest apology, for there is no number of items I could give you to make you understand that I truly made a mistake. To my husband Viktor, I leave my love and you may keep our wedding ring so that you may always remember our time together. I made a portrait somewhere and I'd like you to have it. I'll miss you where I'm going, but I hope I'll see you again someday soon. To everyone else, if there is anything of me left. I'd like to donate it to the people of Balian, any food, wheat, materials I leave behind.
  12. It is with great sadness that I must announce the passing of my mother, the Baroness Giselle Chloe de Rosius. I do not wish to get into her passing in depth, but we shall be hosting a funeral in her remembrance sometime soon. With this news being out and finally in the open after several days of contemplation, I'd like to also announce my departure from my family members and all of the issues that stemmed from them. With this, I'd like also extend an olive branch to my extended family, The Vuillers and the Darkwoods. If you have the time, I'd like to speak with you regarding the slight my mother has made against you and your families and apologize for them. I will be taking a separate route from my siblings and taking on the name of Rhodon, which is another way of saying Rose. I will always be a member of de Rosius in my heart, but no longer in name and no longer in culture. I hope you will support me in this endeavor as I strive to do what my mother never could. I still love my sister Diane sincerely, but I have doubts in her ability to continue our line successfully here in Balian, so I'd rather stay in the nation I love and make my own family with my husband and children. Moving forward one step at a time, Sincerely,
  13. Maria smiled seeing her aunt. "Oh Anne, you'll simply never believe all the stories I have for you. You should see your ancestors Anne."
  14. My name? I almost don’t remember it at this point since it’s been so long since I first came to Almaris. Most people have forgotten me to time, so I wrote a book for people like me, except the only difference was I’m not dead… yet. Enclosed is the book, for whomever it may concern. Sent out to the citizens where every branch of my family resides, as a reminder of their history and the people who came before them. As I write this, I know my time is inevitably coming, something I had been prepared for since I was in my 40s. So other than that, if you’re receiving this, perhaps these letters pertain to you in some fashion and enclosed also, are letters that will never be received by the people who are written in my book. To Anton, To Elodie, To Sylvie, To Adeline d'Azor, To Anna Mariya, To Elaine d'Arkent, To Elizavetta de Rosius, To Geoff Turgon, To my son, Lucius, To Rosemary who eventually became a Vuiller, To Amelia Hughes, To Damien Hughes, To Viktor Romstun, To Philip de Rosius, To Anne de Rosius, To Alicia de Rosius, To my uncle, Otis, To my father, Valent, To the rest of my family, even those who receieved their own letters, To all of my friends, as many as there were throughout my nearing 90 years of life, To the dreadful family who killed Adeline, and by proxy Anton. d'Azor, And as I finished writing my letters, numerous they were, I realized something. I had done everything that I had ever needed to do. My wishes were fulfilled. The only thing left to do now? Sleep and pray to God for forgiveness that he would be a fool to grant me. I finally got to be the person I’d always wanted to be, true and authentic, Maria. Though this in itself is not a letter, I will sign it just the same. Sincerely, Maria de Rosius and her writer alter ego, Alice Thorne Goodnight,
  15. In my lifetime, I've been called so many names. Maria de Rosius Maria Othaman Maria Romstun No one really knew me as I was, not truly. Except one, a man that many recall with a disdain as they once did me. His name was Anton d’Amato-Orlov. A name many of you wouldn’t remember as all the ones who do are likely dead. One of many who lost to the cruelty of this world, who no one really remembers, but I remember. I’ll never forget him. The one good thing this world had to offer, beyond all of the drama, the heartache, the loss. He was a constant until he was nothing at all. Then there was Elodie de Rosius, a woman of elegance and grace, one I had never truly given the credit she was due. Never loved like she deserved, never anyone’s first option. Elodie held herself with poise, even in her worst of times. Even when she hated me beyond belief for the things I had done to her. I can’t blame her, I was an awful niece but I hope one day when I meet her again in the Seven Skies, she can forgive me for all of that. I’ll tell you the story of these two and many more. The people lost to time, beyond our reach. It’s all I can do for the people who never got the chance to tell their stories, like myself, as I will never be known by the newer generations, even the current. I am all but a forgotten artifact, so I will do everything within my power to grace those who read this with the knowledge of a time long past. Anton d’Amato-Orlov was a mysterious man, one I could never quite pin down. A man full of secrets, a prisoner to his own mind. He married a woman he would never love, for reasons I couldn’t bear myself to say even now. He loved her in a way that no one could ever really put a label on. A pure love, not romantic in nature. Truth be told, I don’t think there was anyone Anton could ever say he loved romantically, for all of his relationships were fleeting, just like his life. Though we were close in age, I’d never say I loved Anton either. I loved him, dearly, deeply, but it was never romantic in nature either. He had a way about him, a charming way. He could tell you everything you needed to hear as it was, no sweet talk, no butchering his words. He was honest but at the same time, a liar. He didn’t lie to me, no. He lied to himself and he spent all of his life lying to himself, until I don’t know whether he truly believed it or he had given up on finding the truth. He knew all of my secrets, but I can’t say I really knew him. I knew he had a deep resentment for his father, the man he tried so hard not to be like that he lost his real identity. His most notable contribution was his time spent in MoJ, a relic of a time long ago, though that was overshadowed by the day he spited the entire organization for his wife, Adeline. Adeline was killed by the hands of her own family, the d’Azors as Anton said, and I believed him. I’d have no reason not to believe him, when I saw the look in his eyes as he held Cillian O’Rourke hostage, I knew that loss of identity, that lack of closure. Everything in his life had finally got to him. There were times I’d tell myself that’s not the Anton I knew, but that’s exactly the Anton I knew. A chaotic soul fighting against the world that wanted to chew him up and spit him out. Elodie de Rosius was one of the many children of Maria Darkwood and Philip O’Rourke, overshadowed entirely by her brothers Valent and Otis de Rosius. A wonderful woman, who did everything she could to keep others happy. She raised me to the best of her abilities; despite the fact I was just her niece. She lived most of her life in the shadows of others, whether by her own volition or not, I’ll never know. She seemed content with that for the most part, as long as it made those around her happy. Elodie was by no means a simple woman, and I think she hid a lot of her feelings behind a mask of happiness so that no one else had to feel the pain she bore on her shoulders. I was 15 when I met Geoff Turgon, the man who Elodie was seeing at the time. He seemed kind, but he left her as soon as he got the chance for another woman. I would be remiss to say that Geoff wasn’t a friend, but that’s another story. Elodie was smitten with the man, wholeheartedly invested in a relationship that would never bear fruit. I tried my best to warn her that it wasn’t worth going after, but she did anyway and she was hurt by it. Geoff rejected her and instead, pursued a married woman, our cousin, Jane O’Rourke. I could say many things about Elodie, for one she had a wonderful taste in fashion and was a dear friend to anyone who was lucky enough to have her in their life. There was a time though, that Elodie thought she’d found someone she truly could love. That man was Jacker Gendik, the supposed widow of my aunt Josephine who had not died until several years AFTER they married. Jacker had a tendency to declare himself single before confirming the deaths he claimed occurred. Josephine was certainly not the first he had “confused” as dead, in fact there was another woman who he had failed to annul his marriage with named Faux Amati, someone I’m happy to have called friend in her time on Almaris. Elodie was never given that chance at true happiness until she met a woman who would later become her secret lover until the end of her life. Those of you who remain who still remember the name de Rosius, or are descended from it, never forget this woman. She was everything de Rosius should’ve been, loving, graceful, and most importantly, genuine. Otis de Rosius was the elder brother of Elodie, a strange enigma of a man but ambitious nevertheless. He spent his entire adult years working to make something of his family name and in the process, he brought about a legacy that lasts to this day. He was a politician plagued by his own regrets and the loss of those around him. Though at times, he seemed heartless. He loved my family in his own way, by giving us everything we could’ve ever hoped for and more. Though he was by no means affectionate, he cared in a way that was never readily apparent. He married young, to a woman named Claude de Frand, sister of the notorious Aimee Carrion. Claude and Otis had Hera Claude, Leone, and Leander though there was another I simply cannot remember. After the tragic passing of his first wife, he remarried to a woman named Louise Halcourt, a woman much younger than he, who had 4 children. Some of which made names for themselves and carry on the family name to this day. Sylvie Elara Ruthern nee de Rosius, Giselle Chloe, Louis Alphonse, and Lucien Sylvestre. I’d be remiss not to mention the downfall of Otis de Rosius as the man slowly spiraled into madness until dying in the rose bushes at his beloved Chateau de Rosius in Redenford. Charlotte Othaman is a name I didn’t think I'd ever speak again. The mistakes I made that lead up to her passing, I don’t think I could ever truly forgive myself for. I remember the day like it was yesterday, when young Charlotte returned home from her schooling on some Auvergnian continent I can hardly remember the name of. When the eldest of my children were but babes in their cradle, I say this as if Charlotte was never my child, but she was. The true eldest of Maria de Rosius’ spawn, many as there are. I was with my husband at the time, Darius Romstun, taking care of the infants. Every time I looked at her, I saw my ex-husband, Erik Tarcell and I truly couldn’t have felt worse. I would’ve never married that dreadful man if it weren’t for Charlotte, but I can no longer be mad at her for that. The only one I have to blame for any of this is myself. Charlotte was meeting the babes for the first time when she drew a knife from her dress, ready to attack them. I suppose she had inherited the madness of de Rosius that many of us suffered from. Instead of allowing them to die so defenseless, my husband was swift, cutting her arms from her body until there was nothing but spurts of blood in their wake. Truth be told, I should’ve been horrified, but I was suffering with an affliction. I was what they called a vampire, well and truly lost to bloodlust. Instead of performing my duties as a medic, I was overtaken by my hunger and devoured my one and only child. That day, Darius and I took her body to the Old Providence lake connected to the sewers and dumped her there with the rug she died upon. If I ever meet you again, Charlotte. I am deeply sorry for the pain I allowed Darius to inflict upon you, and I am even more sorry I took your life away at such a young age. You deserved better than a mother like me. Erik Tarcell Othaman was a man I could never really say I loved, perhaps I used him for validation or for some other unknown reason. Perhaps I wanted what others had, that feeling of love that I never really found except in friends and frenemies alike. To say his life was meaningless would certainly be a lie as he contributed almost nothing to society, the most fun I think I’d ever had with him was robbing people’s houses and the ISA barracks when I was a recruit for a short time. He was an overgrown child to say the least and perhaps this is one that’s best forgotten, along with the rest of the Othaman family of old. Vladrick Erik Ruthern was a man I couldn’t say I really knew well, but the parts that I did know of him, I liked. After my second husband declared me dead to him and remarried to a dear friend of mine, Faux Amati, (though it is still a question I ask myself if they ever even married at all), I met up with an old friend and the man who taught me how to kill a human being without batting an eye, Vladrick. At first, it was simple conversations before it turned into much more than that. Though I would never say our relationship resembled anything remotely affectionate, I reared twins, Viktoryia and Sigmar Barrow, who to this day I still do not know well enough to write much about here. Geoff Turgon is the only man I can ever say that I truly loved in the romantic sense, despite our fights. Elodie’s lover and eventual best friend. When Erik first disappeared, I went to him and what started as a fight became an affair. Geoff never returned those feelings for me, not truly. I wonder if to him I was little more than to pass time, but now I’ll never know. Geoff was a judge, the eventual husband of Jane O’Rourke, my cousin. He was a wonderful man who I despised since our first meeting, but little did I know that I was hiding my true feelings for him. Though I imagine none of you reading care, or know who he is. He was a wonderful man and it’s a shame you did not know him for he treated my aunt in her later years with all the friendship she could’ve ever wished for. Anne de Rosius, the woman I never really knew. I’ll never forget when she was courting Arthur Komenos and I decided to hide in the bushes to watch their interaction. Anne was a happy and kind woman and a wonderful Aunt. I truthfully wish I knew more so I could share her story, but what I do know is you would’ve been lucky to meet her. Elizavetta de Rosius is the most headstrong person I had ever met besides Anton and that’s what made the three of us such good friends. She made the mistake of falling for Anton despite her confusion about her sexuality. I suppose that’s one thing the both of them had in common, among many others. Her life was cut short due to suicide in the old elven town of Ando Alur, which I was a witness to on one of my visits there to begin writing my very first book under my alias Alice Thorn. Elizavetta had a heart of gold and cared deeply for the people she held close to her. Maria de Rosius, me. My achievements were many and yet all of them feel utterly useless now. Back then, being the Mayor of Providence was an accomplishment, mothering many children was an accomplishment, but all of it I grew to resent deeply. Every marriage, every child, every moment. And for all of the people of the past, lost to time. I remember you and I hope this will encourage the ones who read it to explore their family history, their pasts, and the lives that suffered to bring them to where they are today. I cannot go very far with this book as it is one of the last things I will ever write and I am getting weaker by the day, but if you have the time, please look into the families of old Oren, of Haense, everywhere you go. Do not let them be forgotten as I have been. Do not let their stories go untold. If you have the chance, continue where I left off and add your own lives, your own families. Let this be a reminder that not all who are gone are forgotten. For I will always remember, even now that I am almost gone.
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