MotherLay

Mourning of a Failed Beauty Queen __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Aloisa Liesel Barclay left the ballroom in fury, her fists clenched at her sides, her face distorted and scrunched up. She could not believe her ears. After her self-proclaimed spectacular presentation, she was made an honorable mention. This was an insult to the confident girl, she felt it'd have been less of an embarrassment if she was not mentioned at all. "Honorable mention is just a title given to make contestants nicht feel bad about losing, it is a pity place." Aloisa notes towards Sergei, one of the only friends the anger-problemed girl seemed to have. She repeatedly kicked at a worn chair, abusing the inanimate object; something she had done many, many times before. It seemed to be a recurring theme for her to do so; an outlet for her to unleash her anger about the world around her. Nothing seemed fair to her. Most of the time she felt as if the world was against her- which was a sentiment that was quite untrue. Though over time, and through her chat with Sergei, Aloisa calmed into a manageable state, one unlike the intense anger she held inside; the emotion she hid behind her love for Godan. This did not end her feelings of being wronged, this did not change the way she viewed her loss. It merely offput it, shoving her intense feelings into an overflowing storage compartment in her brain- one that was close to bursting. Another failure, another burden. The self-obsessed teen could only take so much more. The next weeks, Aloisa could be observed little. She remained within her home, too frustrated to even come out to make an appearance. She spent this time seething about and mourning her unfair loss. A sore loser at it's finest. Though, one who happened to have a gorgeous face and dazzling personality- or so she proclaims. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hauseinweihung von Reinmar First Feast in the Newly-Designed Reinmaren Keep. Come all, come all! We humbly invite you to join us in our display of the changes we have now made to our home. These changes bring a new era to our family, one that we will cherish and cultivate until the next. There are a series of events that will take place during this time: I. Ducal Court of Reinmar His Princely Grace, Johann Barclay will hold court in his own keep for any whom wish to petition him, or grant gifts for favor. Come prepared with any words or ideas you may wish to have an audience for. II. Grand Feast To celebrate the first feast in the product of our new changes, we will serve only the finest picks of meat, and the freshest of vegetables grown in the farmlands of our home. Along with such, will be a mouth-watering dessert, prepared only by the best baker of Reinmar. III. Tour Finally, we will host a small tour of the most impressive areas in our new space. Here, you will be able to admire the hard work in planning and implementing the complex ideas we have created. FORMAL INVITATIONS ARE SENT TO THE FOLLOWING: His Royal Majesty, Sigismund III Barbanov, King of Hanseti-Ruska and his noble pedigree His Grace, Eirik Baruch, Duke of Valwyck and his noble pedigree His Grace, Rhys var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus and his noble pedigree The Right Honorable, Aldrik Kortrevich, Count of Jerovitz and his noble pedigree The Honorable, Aleksandr Amador, Viscount of Aurveldt and his noble pedigree His Lordship, Johann Ludovar, Baron of Otistadt and his noble pedigree His Lordship, Elimar, Baron-Regent of Richtenburg and his noble pedigree His Royal Highness, Otto Morovar, Baron of Ghaestenwald and his noble pedigree His Serene Highness, Lucien Ashford de Savoie, Prince of Savoy and his noble pedigree The Right Honorable, Ulrich von Alstreim, Landgrave of Alstreim and his noble pedigree The Right Honorable, Karl Barclay, Count of Freimark and his noble pedigree SIGNED, Her Princely Ladyship, Aloisa Liesel Barclay, Second- AND Best, Daughter of Prince-Duke Johann His Excellency, Johann Barclay, Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska, Prince of Sutica, Duke of Reinmar, Count of Kretzen, Baron of Freising and Sigradz, Lord of Wilheburg and Freisburg, Chieftain of the Reinmaren Her Princely Grace, Georgina Sofiya Barclay, Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska, Princess-Consort of Sutica, Duchess-Consort of Reinmar [OOC] Thursday, February 24th, 4 PM EST/ 9 PM GMT

THE FUNERAL OF PRINZENAS JULIYA IPERA Gronna ag Droba, 412 ES Va ve Edlervik, On this day, Gronna ag Droba, 412 ES, Her Royal Highness, Juliya Ipera Barbanov, former Viscount dowager of Vanir, has passed. Her cause of death seemed to stem from the lack of precaution in the Royal family’s meal. In her youth, Juliya had brought much life to Haense, and is remembered for such. She leaves behind her pet shop, her children, and her dear extended family, as well as a dozen or so pets. She will not be forgotten. The people and allies of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska are welcomed to attend a service that shall be held on the Joma ag Umund of 412 ES in the city square, to mourn and remember the loss of Her Highness. It is asked that those attending wear black attire during the ceremony. It is still expected that in these solemn times that the privacy of the Royal Family, and the late Princess’ loved ones is respected. IV JOVEO MAAN, Signed, Her Royal Majesty, Emma Karenina, Queen-Consort of Hanseti-Ruska ((OOC)) Tuesday, February 15th 3:00 PM EST/ 8:00 PM GMT

Funeral of Peaches of Reinmar Portrait of the lovable Peaches as a pup, circa 1854 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It is with deepest somberness, that we announce the passing of the most beloved pet in all of Haense. Peaches of Reinmar was Aloisa Barclay’s lifetime friend and favored companion, and she has requested a public funeral procession for her dear pug. Those in attendance are encouraged to speak a few words about their memories of the fallen friend, in hopes that his life is remembered in a celebratory and happy manner. After the rites are said, those in attendance will watch as Peaches is lowered into his burial spot, and allowed to say their last goodbyes to the good boy. Peaches will be missed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- :Formal Invitations: His Royal Majesty, Sigismund III, King of Hanseti and Ruska and his royal pedigree His Royal Highness, Otto Morovar, Baron of Ghaestenwald and his noble pedigree His Grace, Johann Barclay, Duke of Reinmar and his noble pedigree His Grace, Rhys var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus and his noble pedigree His Grace, Eirik Baruch, Duke of Valwyck and his noble pedigree The Right Honorable, Aldrik Kortrevich, Count of Jerovitz and his noble pedigree The Honorable, Aleksandr Amador, Viscount of Aurveldt and his noble pedigree The Honorable, Johann Ludovar, Baron of Otistadt and his noble pedigree The Honorable, Sigmar Mondblume, Baron of Richtenburg and his noble pedigree --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [OOC] Tuesday, February 8th, 4pm EST/ 9pm GMT

Aloisa smiles.

The Culture of the Karosgradian Naumariav Peasantry Haeseni children playing outside the schoolhouse, circa. 1821 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I. Overview II. Lifestyle III. Language/Dialect IV. Common Attire V. Common Traditions VI. Common Names VII. Health VIII. Values ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Overview Though holding many of the same values as those they live under, peasantry life couldn’t be more different than nobility life. It is not an easy life, working every day, breaking your back to make sure your family is fed and clothed, not at all. The Haeseni peasants’ lives are drastically different from those in the gentry or nobility ranks, having their own set of values, traditions, lifestyles, and attire. They are a part of the Haeseni culture but have a culture of their own within it. Peasants are the unrecognized, the quiet workers who keep the nation running, even if they do not have much of a hand in politics. Without their work, without their strive to succeed in an impossible situation, Haense as we know it would fall to shambles. Lifestyle Peasantry’s lifestyle is undoubtedly rough. With late tax payments, juggling work and children, and constantly finding other means to feed themselves, there leaves little room for slacking. Each day they are presented with another struggle, and to survive, they depend on finding solutions for those issues they come across. Peasantry is a full life of hard work. One must work to make minas, one must work to find food, one must work to keep themselves from illness, and one must work towards making a better life for themselves- even if that dream is impossible. Housing: A common home for those who live in the lowest class has two rooms; the kitchen and then the bedroom. Even for larger families, with generations of adults or litters of children, it remains the same. Despite lack of space, they make do with what they have even if it means four or five children to a bed. The homes that people of the peasantry can afford usually have some sort of issue. Anywhere from a shabby stove to creaking walls, the houses are mostly run-down, and that is what makes them so cheap. Despite the less-than-perfect homes, peasants typically take value in their lodging, keeping what they have in tip-top presentability. Family: Most often, despite the lack of funds, peasant couples tend to have a great number of children. Anywhere from five to seven is average among the people. Though, because of the lack of medical care and treatments for their newborns, many children pass away within the first five years of life. Like noble families, many generations live within their home, even though the space they have is not even a quarter of the keeps around Haense. And like noble houses, the women who marry go to live with their husbands and their family, usually, it is only the men who stay. As time passes, and the boys grow into men and begin families of their own, they will release themselves from their nest and attempt to start anew, letting such process continue once more. Work: Most peasants hold some sort of job, even if their main one is to stay at home with the children. The men hold more permanent careers, getting into various trades (carpentry, masonry, farming, baking, military, etc), while the women, who mostly take care of the children find either freelance work (sewing, childcare, washing clothes, etc) or full-time work like servantry or healing. Even children are subjected to long days of work alongside their general schooling. They find little ways to make minas (newspaper delivery, shoe-shining, stable help, etc) and contribute to their family’s wellbeing. Hunger: A peasantry family on average has one and a half meals a day. To break their fast, they may munch on some loaf of bread, and for dinner, a common meal is vegetable stew. If they are lucky though, that vegetable stew might just turn into a chicken stew, but only on occasion. Children, who have not yet found a way to control their hunger, are prone to stealing food at a much higher rate than adults. They may ****** an apple or two, while an adult holds pride within themselves, and rejects much of the free food offered. Hygiene: Being in the North, it is cold. Most peasants, who do not have a bathtub available to them, bathe within the river. When it is cold, however, many refrain from doing such, rather, giving a light sponge bath with a bucket at home, and not so often either. None wish to contract an illness such as hypothermia, as that is a death sentence for the unfortunate. Peasants wash their hair with shampoos and scents once a year, and this is usually when it is warmer and they can bathe within the river. When washing their bodies, they use soap every time, though only a small amount of it. They conserve the amount they use, hoping to keep that same bar of soap for a long period of time; it is not cheap. Language/Dialect Peasant language is not much different than New Marian, though many words or phrases may be mashed together in one word. Their accent is thicker than noble Haeseni, but their way of speaking is less refined; improper even. Their accent may be seen as a reflection of a peasant’s lack of education and proper upbringing, though that speculation is more widely assumed by the people of nobility. [Guide to New Marian] https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/197320-a-guide-to-new-marian/ Common Attire For women: Common attire for Haeseni women consisted of warm, bundled clothes. Seeing as the nation is located Northward, it is fairly certain that you will see snowfall and freezing temperatures throughout most of the year. With most labor taking place outside, and little access to greatly heated areas, the average Haeseni needs to keep themselves from freezing. A headscarf is common among women as well, the individual patterns of each showcasing the uniqueness of each woman, and allows them the luxury of style. Though pants are reserved for men most often, Haeseni women adorn bloomers for that extra bit of warmth. It is imperative for Haeseni people to wear thick fabrics and warm garments, as hypothermia seems to be the leading cause of death among their people. Even the poorest own such attire, placing its need above food, even. For men: Like women, men adorn heavy and warm attire, entrapping as much heat as possible within the icy breezes of Haeseni winters. They wrap themselves up in three layers of clothing: the undershirt, the overshirt, and the fur coat. Most of the coats worn by Haenseni peasants are worn and second-hand, having most likely been a shabby piece of work since its purchase. On the legs, they wear average trousers- and if they have a great payday, perhaps even ones made of wool. Boots are common among both men and women, generally lined with fur inside and leather on the outside. Though, for the lesser of fortune types, they adorn shoes made of cheap padding and bearskin. For more common clothing traditions, take a look at Traditional Haeseni Dress and Attire- 328 E.S. The article also lists many of the more detailed costumes in Haeseni attire. https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/193157-traditional-haeseni-dress-and-attire/ Common Traditions Nachalo Vesna Every passing year, there is a grand familial feast held, where each home celebrates the spring season, where their crops begin to grow and the warmth begins to file in. Many common Haeseni cuisines are prepared, such as Janz Dinna, Mutton Stew, and Prikaburren Jam with Bread. After a long canonist prayer, one of the family’s preferential choosing, they engorge into their food, eating and laughing together on their one true free day off. Many families set aside minas each year to find the food they eat, as the prices of many of these dishes can be handsome. It is the biggest meal of the year and is celebrated throughout many communities of Haeseni peasants. Koeng’s Nachnite On the eve of the first day of a new month, every month, families light a candle in honor of their Koeng, setting it on the ledge of their front-facing window. It is a belief that, by doing so, they are instilling good luck to their Koeng so that he may be provided the best answers to keep their nation thriving. There are three different methods of this ritual, each displaying its own meaning. Front-facing window candle - The family is content with the Koeng, and believes that he is doing what is right for the sake of the nation. Side-facing window candle - This is considered an act of rebellion, and is a rare occurrence. It symbolizes that the family believes the Koeng has turned his head from their well-being, and they are unhappy with the environment he has created for them. No candle - The family rejects the Koeng and his authority entirely. This is the most uncommon method, and in the ritual’s history, is only said to have been completed once or twice. There are heavy consequences to such a bold move, and they are dealt with accordingly. Only the stupid are bold enough to make such a claim. Tanets Smerti When a member of the community passes, their funeral has been held, and their body is lowered into the dirt; the people gather in the most central location of the village to perform what they call, “Tanets Smerti”. It is a dance, one with a set rhythm and composition, but one without the constraints of choreography. As the music is played, by the one or two gifted musicians in the community, the people dance in honor of the fallen, letting the rhythm guide them into the motions they feel Godan wants them to make. The piece lasts for five minutes or so and acts as one happy, final send-off of their beloved peer. After the dance closes, the mourning period begins. The Last Drink Of Death “Following the funeral ceremony and the cremation of the dead’s body, a solemn feast begins in memory of the fallen kinsman and comrade. At the beginning of the feast, a toast is given to the fallen, called the ‘Last Drink of Death’, to which each pours half the contents of their glass upon the floor. After which, everyone must finish the drink. A prayer is given shortly after, and the feast commences” (Tradition found in the article, Haeseni People- link at the bottom of the article). Barovifest Barovifest is a festival that joins commoners and nobility alike, allowing them to drink and celebrate together in harmony. There are multiple parts of the celebrations, some happening a week before, and some happening the day after. https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/189754-barovifest-the-day-of-serfs-or-the-day-of-all-souls/ Health Haeseni peasants are by far the most susceptible group to disease. Surrounded by illnesses, poor hygiene, and lack of proper portions of meals, peasants find themselves sick the most often. As mentioned previously, hypothermia is the leading cause of death among the group, its place just before smallpox. If you cannot afford the proper clothes, your lifespan is lessened considerably. With most of the class working outdoors, even in such conditions, it is easy to catch a chill; for your body to drop in temperature. Pregnancy. With so many children, come many miscarriages. With a lack of nutrition and no sign of a stress-free time, women are more likely to not come to term with their children. Though a horrid thing, and a heartbreaking time, it is common, and most peasant women experience it at least once in their child-bearing years. Coming to term is not rare, no, but successfully birthing a child is what is on the fence. In many instances, during labor, a baby will be born stillborn, or a mother will lose too much blood during it and perish. Infant mortality rates are high, and childbirth is the fifth-highest cause of death amongst the group. Treatment. Most likely, within Haeseni peasant communities, there will be a healer. They are separate from the capital’s clinic, and seemingly work by their own rules. Their practices may be questionable to those with higher education. Despite the differences and less reliability, peasants flock to those healers, as they are usually well-respected members of the community and the cheapest option. Values The Unspoken Rule. Many Haeseni peasants, who hold dignity and pride within themselves, cling to the unspoken rule amongst their communities. You do not take what you did not work for. Having been put into their position, many Haeseni believe that the way to Godan’s heart is through the work they do every day. Taking cheats; such as free food, minas, or clothes, are seen as insincere, and it does not hold the values that they think Godan wishes for them to have. They are work-driven people, using their service as a way to remain pious to Godan so that one day, their hard work might pay off in the seven-skies. Though a hungry child might take up such an offer without requesting work, an adult would be quick to refuse, offering their service in repayment for their gift. This value is closely related to Biharism - The Agrarian Dream, found within the article, Haeseni People (linked at the bottom). Family. Generally, peasants retain a strong drive for their families, working for their well-being, caring for them, and living for them. Families stick together within the community, and when asked what they work so hard for, other than their dedication to Godan, they respond noting their loyalty to their family, wishing to provide them with all that they can so that they might be comfortable in such an uncomfortable life. Homestead. A person’s home is their pride and joy, their work and their effort are all poured into creating this space for them and their family. Peasants work hard to keep their home in tip-top shape, repairing what is broken, and upgrading what is not. They are not willing to settle for anything less than the best they can do for their homestead. Biharism - Jermanic Liberties. “To each freeman is his own life, to take it is to be a thief, To each freeman his own time, to take it is to be a slaver, To each freeman his own sword, to take it is to blind him, To each freeman his own wife, to take it is to injure him, And to each freeman his own farm, to take is to make him no man.” https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/176508-haeseni-people/

Aloisa Barclay smiles as she reads the missive from her cozy boarding room in Savoy, seemingly thrilled to be some-sort of center of attention, even in her absence. Though, she scowls at Klara's section beforehand, muttering a few curses as she rips everything but her own article up.

THE BEST BARCLEI BURGANN PLEES COME SAY HALLO TO ME A depiction of HER LADYSHIP Aloisa Liesel Barclay of ROOMAR The missive is very clearly written by a child, where the penmanship was crude and many words were misspelled. There is even crayon used on some of the sections. TO THE GUTTEST BOYS Its that time of yeer again, and all the gurls across the land are geting lonly, with no won by thare side! YOU CAN FICKS THAT! Aloisa Liesel Barclay is looking for a boo to do things for her and get her gifs! In this leter, sent to al the chilldren her age, is a list of her own kwalities, and what trayts and ideeas she wants her sootor to hold! Don’t miss your chance on such a great gurl! WHY ALOISA IS NICE: I. I am realy pretty, way to pretty, even. II. I am the bestest gurl in all of Haense cause I am III. Im doing realy good in my studys, so I am sooper smart, more smart than other people with blond hare. IV. I have big dream, and lots of minas. V. My favorit color is blu. VI. I like flowers, and Im not alerjick like stoopid peeple. VII. I have the bestest dog in the world, and you can see him sometimes VIII. I run the bestest theeter companey in the whole world, so you can see thos shows IX. I am prety WHAT ALOISA WANTS: I. Someone who will get me blu thing II. Someone who will giv me chokolats III. Someone who will give me flowers IV. Someone who will give me gifs V. Someone who will not be meen VI. Someone who will give me fur VII. Someone who will give me jewelerey VIII. Someone who will do what I say Send a berd to Aloisa Barclay! SIGNED HER PRINZESSINSELF, Aloisa Liesel Barclay [OOC] I made this post for just some light fun, please refrain from responding on this forum if you are not a child character!

Aloisa Barclay smiles at her sister's faults, glad to be making her Mother proud with her excellent barking skills.

Haeseni Youth Thespian Society Portrait of the play, “How St. Tobias Saved King Sigismund II”, circa. 404 E.S. [!] Enclosed in each flier was a handwritten note scribed by Lady Aloisa Barclay herself! Hold onto this one, folks. It might be worth something someday! Her writing though, was less than superb. She had correct spelling and punctuation, though her handwriting was absolutely atrocious. Though, I suppose, give the girl some slack! She is only six years old, afterall… “Dearest Reader, Ich have an offer du will nicht want to miss! If du are a child and like acting, du could make it a career in my really neat thespian society! We will preform only the most neatest shows and we will have the best time ich think. Mein club will be the best because ich am a gutt leader, a really gutt one. Ich will make everyone’s mouths drop like really far because ich can do that and ich will. In mein club, we will make our own shows and show them to our parents and anyone who else wants to see it, ich think we will sell the whole seats of the house because we will be so gutt. Anyone can audition to join, and ich think a lot of du will get in because du are almost as gutt as me! Please send a letter to me when du decide to try and join and ich will send one because because ich am gutt at responding. Our first meeting will be in five Saint’s Days, and ANYONE can come to that one. Anyone! Except adults- well- ich think the Koenas and my Mamej can come- but nein other! Du will have a gutt time! Signed, Aloisa Barclay —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: Saturday, January 1st @ 2 PM EST

Aloisa Barclay glares at the missive that she had assistance reading, letting out a huff as she thinks on her mortal enemy's ideas. She sets it to the side, before beginning to scribble on some paper, her poor, ugly dog by her side. "Ich will be a better readerer than her, ich will, Peaches!" she declares confidently, pressing her lips together in concentration as she begins to craft the best poem a small child could. Peaches, Aloisa's poor, ugly dog, simply drools, before knocking himself out by running full force into her bedpost.

Aloisa Barclay squeezes her dog to her chest, nearly suffocating the poor, ugly thing. She lets out a shrill squeal that echoed through the halls of Reinmar. "Ich hope this means ich am a princess! Ich would be a really good one, ich think!"

Adryana welcomes her first boyfriend into the seven skies. “What took you so long? I made vy a pie twenty years ago, it’s almost gone cold!”

THIS

kids will still age themselves up, they wont abide

As someone who joined young, it is abhorrent how many predatory people roam around this server.

The Raven-Haired Boy A painting of little Zoran, 400 E.S. Zoran Kutznetsov was born on the 23rd of Wzuvar ag Byvca 400 E.S. to his parents, Sanja and Alexander Kutznetsov. It had been an eventful day for his poor mother, as she had been utterly choked in the streets and had her life threatened by some pesky bandits. Even laying in the hospital bed with her son, she was getting tended to for the harsh bruises. Born with all ten fingers, and all ten toes, two feet and two hands, two eyes and one nose, Zoran was found to be quite a healthy baby boy. He was most noticeably found to have a strong set of lungs, his cries ringing throughout the hospital building, seemingly using all of his might to make such sounds. Despite the hardships of the day, everything seemed to be perfect. A healthy boy and happy new family, that’s all that should matter, right? There was only one issue with this “perfect” scene. The boy was growing sprouts of raven hair atop his small head. Blonde and Brown make black, right? Right? No. It didn’t. Despite Sanja’s attempts to blame the generic “mishap” on how her father had the hair color, the boy looked nothing like Alexander. A Haeseni, yes,but not like her husband. Of course, upon hearing such news, word spreads, and that was all Sanja was afraid of for her newborn child. Theories of who could even possibly be the father circulated around swiftly. Too fast for Sanja to stop. “The child is Lord Rhys’, vy know their history,” says some. “Nie, Nie. It must be Lord Joren’s, Ea saw them together a few times before.” says others. “She did have a budding friendship with Prinzen Marus,” a few add. “What if the ***** seduced the koeng!” Extremists declare. Which was right? Sanja kept to herself as these questions arose, refusing to answer a single one of them. She would not admit who it was, that information would have to be discovered without her aid. Her child, Zoran Kutznetsov, was quite obviously, a bastard. [OOC] Just this was a cool fun fact, but the painting was made by Halyna Kutznetsova, which is actually very, very funny. Laugh. Rn. Laugh. Do it.

A Servant and Her Sin Stork Carrying a Baby (circa. 1830) Each day, it became more noticeable. Each day, her clothes grew snugger and snugger. Each day, she had to tie her corset more loosely. Each day, she was bombarded with the fear that they might find out. The servant girl grew more and more aware of her inability to hide for much longer, she held on though, to the bit of disguise she could muster. She hid it until she couldn’t. Her seventh month. Up until this change in her, she had been nothing but a twig; skin and bones. She had suffered the plights of starvation, conquered the heavyweight of malnutrition, and was slowly growing to a healthy state… slowly. Now, with such changes within her, she found there to be more substance on her arms, her legs, her face. She looked … normal. Perhaps that’s why she was able to hide her sinful state for so long. She knew it was time to let up; to show off the sin she committed. She was to face her demons, as that was the only true way to be rid of the frown upon her by Godan. On the fourth day of her seventh month, she pulled her corset snugly, she wore a dress that was her usual tight-fit. She wore her pregnant state like an accessory. She had tasks to do, work to be done. And so she did those things. Her steps fail to falter as she strides through the city, big-bellied and all. A person would have to be blind to not see her change. For those who cared to read the weekly news, she had only been married two months ago, and by the look of her, she was anything but two months pregnant. She wore her sin, her precious sin, like a necklace; a pearl. She was unafraid now. Sanja Kutznetsov was ready for judgment.

The Swift Union Depiction of Sanja and Alexander’s Wedding Celebration Come join us in celebration of Alexander Novikov and Sanja Kutznetsov’s forever union! The pair will be united under Godan, with a simple sermon in the Chapel of Saint Tylos, and invite their guests to drink with them in the Reinmaren feast hall afterwards! OOC: Sunday, November 14th, 2PM EST, 7 PM GMT Barclay Chapel

Sanja Kutznetsov gazes at the missive with a blank expression, sucking in a sharp breath. Unable to look at it for another minutes, she crumbles the paper in her hands, tossing it into a nearby bush. The servant girl then promptly proceeded to search in her knitted bag for a half-used cigar thereafter.

The Cowardly Duchess Marjorie Baruch, before weight loss journey (circa. 1735) [!] TW (self-harm, suicide) One fateful night, within the extended residence of the Valwyck keep, Marjorie Baruch stood by the window, watching as the rain pattered against the glass. What was once a calming sound to the woman, was a dreaded one; menacing. It seemed to have a voice within it’s droplets, egging her on to do what she had told herself that she would. Marjorie watched this go on for a long while, her eyes widening slightly every now and then as lightning struck close. Peeling herself away from the window was hard, her gaze shifting to the end table that awaited her fate. It is with pure self-hatred that she moved towards the object of fate; the glistening silver of the blade she chose. She had ruined herself by shutting herself in, too consumed in self-induced solitude to have noticed the horribleness of the woman she was. Absent in her children’s life- absent in her own. She was not the Duchess this family was meant to have. She was nothing. If only she had gotten over her fears, if only she had tried harder. It was too late now, either way. Her children hated her, the rest of the family estranged, she was no longer Duchess and could not make up for her lack of activity. She could not twist back the time and change the fate set herself in. If only she could go back to those youthful days, if only she could stare back into the eyes of the love of her life and tell him that she would run away with him like he asked. If only. She did nothing. She was nothing. She is nothing. So, the middle-aged woman lifts her sleeve, revealing the self-hatred cuts along her arms. She picks up the dagger; her fate. She accepts it. She left no note; no reason. Nothing. The cowardly woman was no longer what she thought she never should have been. Alive.

Marjorie Baruch stands within the cold bedroom where Ruslan had taken his last breath. Her lip quivers as she feels a chill, clutching to her black shawl tighter. For a woman who relished in loneliness always, she had never felt so… alone. A small wail escapes her lips as she stand amidst his and her things, and she swiftly covers her lips with her hand. She plucked out the painting they had been given on their wedding day, studying the depiction of Analiesa and Ruslan. She loved him, that was for sure, and she knew he loved her. Deep in her heart though, she knew that his heart barely belonged to her. It was the woman in the portrait who occupied most of it. “Be with her, Ruslan. I’ll meet vy there someday.” Within the Valwyck keep, a young servant girl sat in her smallish bedroom, a silver mina clasped within her palm tightly, the metal indenting her skin. Never before had she sobbed this way, her breath clutched in her throat, her face full of numerous tears. She had never felt such pain, such hurt. Her mourning was harsh, and her heart was broken.

Marjorie Baruch pushes her way into Eirik’s bedroom as she hears the screeching. She plucks a piece of wrapped candy from her pocket, offering it to him. “Sugar always made me feel better,”

~Baruch Poetry Slam~ A portrait of a man dropping some barz, 1708 Greetings dear citizens of Haenseti-Ruska, We, the Baruch household, would like to formally invite you, our friends and neighbors, to a night of intrigue and amusement. You will be able to express yourself in a simple way: writing. You will be able to show your creativity to your peers, and speak on any topic that comes to mind. Your words could hold a flow, or it could follow a stanza outline, the choice is yours. Any writing is good writing. It is it’s own expression, even if it isn’t as detailed as someone else's, or as smooth as another's. Do not be afraid to share your humor and values, or conflicts and despair. Join us, to recite your own work and entertain your peers with your words! It will be a night you will not want to miss! Marjorie Helaine Baruch OOC: Sunday, September 26th, 5:30 EST

Juliya clutches the letter to her chest, her aging body shaking as tears and sorrow overcame her. She sat in her bedroom, unmoving from her spot as she mourns her friend. "Niet yet... niet yet... vy can niet be gone yet..." She notes up to her ceiling, her head tilting back, as if she were aiming to stare at the seven skies. "What about the cabin?" She then asks in a meek voice, her throat hoarse from her sobs. Juliya would not be heard from for days after this, having locked herself in her room. She was mourning her best friend, afterall.