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  1. Announcement of Death ________________________________ ________________________________ It is with great sorrow that we within House de Leuven hereby announce the unfortunate death of Lady Priscilla Amelia de Leuven. During the later hours of the night the servants had discovered the fallen Ashford deceased in her bed, having passed away during slumber. We request a period of mourning and respect as we cope and endure with this devastating loss, thank you. House de Leuven _________________________________________________ The last flicker of life swelled in her mind, rapidly changing its course as the woman laid in her bed. It was dimmed within her room, the gentle sway of her oil lamp enhancing the dusty four corners held at the edge of her wall. Such a bitterly slow decay, she thought. The irking chirps of crickets kept her at bay as she hacked away into a nearby basin, clotted with specks of blood. Sleep, she desired sleep, yet it struggled to come. In and out in her haze did the images come, consuming her in this miserable state. Bada-dum, bada-dum, bada-dum-............ First it was the dinner party where the four corners of her room expanded outward into a grandiose hall of elaborate wallpaper, every square holding onto a small painted insignia of that Ashford household. From afar she saw her two sisters frolic and spin, dressed in their finest silks as the younger girls were gawked at by nannies. They had always seemed to stress their caregivers, she called. Evanna with her pickiness, Margarita with her chaos, and she with her crudeness. A chuff then escaped her as soon two figures came into sight: one with locks of aureate and the other a silky brown. Her parents, her parents, her parents. Ba-Bada-dum, bada-dum, B-Bada-dum-.... The second vision came more harshly as the reality around her sputtered, bouncing as if against the waves of pounding drums. She was in San Luciano, rays shining down upon her as vicious roars of thrill filled her ears. Down below a game of strength within the sandy pits of the coliseum occurred, blade against blade. However, it was not the admired sport that caught her gaze, but the viridescent eyes from afar. She could not recall her name, the name of her first love. The sharp contours of their features, perfection of the composure and laid hands, and length of her raven curls. Her name, she could not remember her name. Only the taste of strawberry upon her lips. B-Ba-Bada-dum, Ba-Bada-dum, B-Ba-Bada-dum-.... She did not like this vision, it was gruesome, full of regret. Eighty-eight. Those two digits, she dreaded them. It began with an Alstion, and it ended with one too. Her dagger, that wretched but godsent gift. Who was the last? She could not recall, only the first. She was thirteen and he was four. His neck had been sliced so effortlessly; his cries so feeble while his mother's came out akin to a roar. He could have had a family like her, he could have been a husband or even a brother. His own Uncle had ordered his death, to be carried out so that a wretched relative might be heir instead of him. To be heir of a titleless aristocrat. How many did she have to slaughter so her sisters could live peacefully? B-B-Bada-dum, B-B-Babada-dum......... Lastly, she saw her family, her most cherished thing in life. She saw her best-friend and love Daniel, who held her up as she sought to support them. He was her anchor, she loved him greatly. She saw herself in her beloved eldest Caterina, a woman of grand composure and wit. She saw her husband in Lucrezia, determined yet loving. Cosimo, a boy and his crossbow, akin to she and her dagger. Ipera, that downfallen girl. She dreaded her behavior, how she picked up the impulsiveness of Margarita. Yet, just as quickly she saw a brief spark of memory; cradling her youngest babe in swaddled cloth as she murmured the name, “Ipera, Ipera-... Ipera, my sweet sun.” Oh, how her heart ached. Emelie, Manon, Ophelie. They were not her daughters, but she wished they were. Undeserving of the cruelty they faced much akin to herself. They would be well, she thought, they would be well. She could not recall the last thought as she idled there, chest heaving more slowly as the feeling of her fingers faded up to the neck gradually. GOD, please save me, she thought. She pleaded and begged, but in the end-... The sun had lowered, and she was faced with darkness. B-B-B-Bada-dum... Bada-...b...b...b...b-.. _______________________________________________________________ To House Leuven: _______________________________________________________
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