Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jan 23, 2011 23:46:52 GMT -5
My eyes had blurred constantly all morning, even when doing trivial tasks like overseeing the arrangement of furniture. Candles and lamps had needed to be lit when I arrived in the early morning hours at the Temple of Elua, and though I had but a scant couple of hours of sleep in me, I wouldn't have traded this for the world.
Sabrinas passing had affected all of us deeply on multiple levels; some were grieving the loss of a Queen, some of a friend, some a loved one... and opposite those people, there were others who were anxious at what was going to happen now, who would ascend the throne, who had poisoned our beautiful Queen in the very prime of her life. Shock and grief overruled everything right now, but how long would it be before it turned to anger and answers were demanded? I'd visited Christien, and I prayed every day for his health to return; he'd been so awfully pale, feverishly sick. Coretta was neigh cutoff from everyone these days, the security around her so thick that a cannon couldn't have cut through it. My heart ached for her as well, but this day wasn't about her or Christien...
This day was for Sabrina.
I stood near the back of the room, watching the first trickle of sunlight arise buildings to the east, and with it came the first few people into the Temple. Shoes abandoned at the door, they trod barefoot as Elua had done, but rather than cheer and joy was sorrow and grief. I closed my eyes against it, swaying slightly where I stood with sadness and exhaustion, knowing I had to leave soon to prepare for her funeral. Touching a priests arm, I sighed softly before disappearing though the back of the temple, walking quietly upon bare feet.
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Post by Sophine Shahrizai de Amodour on Jan 24, 2011 0:02:25 GMT -5
We'd gotten back to the City only the day before the Memorial service, and that was with making the trip at top speed. Poor Lilli, to have her first trip to the City so rushed and for such a somber reason, but it couldn't be helped. Of course we went to pay our respects, Erie and I, and I assumed that Lilli and Eros would as well.
The Temple of Elua was peaceful, the day was lovely, and as I shed my shoes and felt the flat earth, I remembered my wedding, held here not so long ago. The memory of it made my heart soar, making this moment bittersweet. I had not known the Queen personally, and yet her loss was painful, a sore wound that it would take time to heal. Not only that she was dead, but that she had been murdered. It was terrifying: if someone could cut down the Queen, what hope at safety did any of us have?
Erie and I lit a candle for the Queen, laid down flowers, and prayed that she found her way safely to Terre d'Ange beyond.
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Post by Zayn L'Envers-Shahrizai on Jan 24, 2011 13:46:16 GMT -5
It was my duty to be here, that I knew, and it was with that that I'd dressed in black today, making my way to the temple at an hour earlier than I normally would have been moving at. I didn't know the Queen, but then, how many people actually had? I'd never met her or seen her in person, and though I spent my childhood in Terre d'Ange, I'd rounded my bearings out in Kebbel im Akkad, submersed in their culture.. the culture that was mine by right through my mother, who's ties ironically enough went back to Terre d'Ange. A twisted mess, mayhap, but it was who I was.
A black veil of lace masked my features as I removed my shoes and made my way forth to gaze upon her paintings, taking in the womans features with a curious gaze. It was a pity that she had died, though the thing that worried me most was the knowledge of murder and the murderer uncaught. Thinking of it alone made me itch between my shoulders, and I turned to look behind me, faceless behind my veil; even the violet hue of my eyes was well shrouded today.
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Post by Calista nó Valerian on Jan 24, 2011 15:06:53 GMT -5
It was early in the day still, but I'd risen early and readied myself. A hush lay over the City it seemed, felt thickly throughout Valerian, and after meeting Gareth at his door we made our way into the City to the Temple of Elua.
Flowers clutched in my hand that I'd bought along the way, I strayed close by Gareth side as we made our way into the temple, having to force myself not to walk a step behind him. I wanted to hide, but I wanted to see; it was a strange battle waging in me, and I focused on staying next to Gareth, my eyes alternating between the flowers in front of me and the paintings of our late Queen glimpsed overtop the heads of others before me. Glancing up at Gareth, I gave him a half hearted smile before letting it fade away again, unsure of what would happen from here.. where we would go, what we would do.
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Post by Gareth nó Valerian on Jan 24, 2011 17:33:20 GMT -5
Calista had managed to draw me out of Valerian for this memorial, though I'd tended to stay behind the walls a bit more of late. The Temple of Elua was familiar enough though and I let the sense of peace here wash over me. I had a good deal of respect for Queen Sabrina, at least from the few instances I'd seen her, one of which I did my best to avoid thinking on completely. It never boded well if I slipped into my bitter anger, especially when the dead deserved my respect.
My Housemate, so much more successful and mentally stable than I, was still one of the more passive ones in our House and I gave her a half-smile of encouragement, letting her lean on my strength as she needed to and keeping my thoughts to myself for now. In the past few months she and I had become friends, people who could talk to each other about the things that bothered us most. It was obvious that she felt the sorrow deeply and I offered all of the quiet comfort that I could.
"You seem nervous," I said to her quietly, nearly whispering but hoping that the conversation would at least set her a little more at ease. "Do you want to go? It's still the Temple of Elua, even with all of this sorrow in it." Then again I'd been living in a kind of mourning for awhile now, maybe I was desensitized to it.
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Post by Calista nó Valerian on Jan 24, 2011 22:06:47 GMT -5
When Gareth spoke, I looked up at him, his words thoughtful enough to bring a second smile from me, one that was genuine and lingered even as I spoke. "I'm a little nervous I suppose... I think more than anything it's just..."
My voice faltered, and I looked around us to make sure no one was close. I pitched my voice low anyway; no point in taking chances. "It's a horrible thing, what happened to her..." And if she isn't safe, are any of us? I didn't voice it, but instead colored slightly; I shouldn't be thinking of myself now but of our late Queen. It was hard, though, with the evidence of her death staring us in the faith, a constant reminder that a murderer was on the loose.
"Would you like to see her paintings?" I asked as I looked up at him, attempting to lift my spirits and shrug myself out of the gloom that had stolen over me.
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Post by Nicola de Montoya on Jan 24, 2011 22:08:31 GMT -5
I had gone back and forth over going to Elua's Temple for the Queen's memorial, as I was a foreign citizen, but in the end, the sadness and monumental nature of what had happened drew me out. I had never met the Queen, but the tragedy of her passing made me feel so sad and somber, and that was the overall mood when I arrived at the temple, barefoot and bearing flowers.
There were not too many people here as yet, no one I knew, but then again I had kept myself fairly sheltered since I'd come to Terre d'Ange, preferring to spend my time with Eduardo.
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Post by Niamh mac Igrainne on Jan 24, 2011 22:19:33 GMT -5
The Queen was dead. What a strange time we were living in, that someone could sneak into the Palace and poison the Queen, and the Prince. It made me itch to get back to Eire, and I wondered if any of my countrymen felt the same. As a foreigner, I felt often that eyes were on me, as if I were a criminal or worthy of suspicion somehow. Perhaps it was the woad markings that decorated my skin, or the clothes I wore, or Oisin, trailing after me and looking menacing.
Regardless, I bought some flowers and made my way to the Temple of Elua. I did love this place, I came here often to simply sit and enjoy the feel of the earth beneath me. Living in a big city like this did not come naturally to me, after all. This day, the mood was pensive, hushed, and unlike the tranquil peace I usually found here, there was only sadness. I spoke to no one, left my flowers and a prayer for the family to their Elua and one to my own Gods as well.
When I left, my steps took me all over the City, because I did not want to be alone with my melancholy thoughts.
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Post by Vivienne nó Camellia on Jan 24, 2011 22:32:29 GMT -5
It was a sad day in the Night Court, as well the rest of the City. Since the Queen's death, fear and anxiety was at an all time high, and that had translated into some extra business on Mont Nuit as people tried to escape their troubles in the bed of an adept. Not today, however, for the first time in my memory, the Night Court was closed.
I spent the early morning hours preparing the group of novices that would be accompanying me to the Memorial, making sure they all had flowers and that everyone was all right. Some children were more sensitive than others, and already there had been tears. We all dressed in white, not a traditional color of mourning, but respectful nonetheless, like a group of pale flowers making our way to the Temple of Elua.
Once there, we laid our flowers, said our prayers, and I offered comfort where I could. Some of the younger children were wide eyed at being in the same place as the royal family, but they were all impeccably well behaved, too saddened, I thought, to giggle or whisper.
Afterward, we had a lesson about caring for a patron that might be grieving, or otherwise filled with sadness, and then I dismissed them to spend the rest of the day in contemplation, something I myself intended to do.
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Post by Avianna nó Mandrake on Jan 24, 2011 22:42:02 GMT -5
I hadn't thought I would go to the memorial service ... I was not known for my tender heart, but then again, those very few that knew me well knew that I was not quite the ice queen that I appeared to be. Still, I shed no tears as I lay my flowers amidst so many others. The affair was sad, to be sure, but I knew Sabrina not, and whatever sadness I felt was for an ideal, not the person.
I did not stay long, walking back to Mont Nuit on silent feet and spending the rest of the day reading and wondering if I should try to find Bellamy, to see how he was faring, being so much more sensitive than I.
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Post by Daenara Kutsouris (H) on Jan 24, 2011 23:05:42 GMT -5
The death of a ruler was no small matter, and the shockwaves the Queen's murder had made throughout the City, no, the country, were still being felt. I had a wreath of flowers sent ahead and then walked leisurely to the Temple of Elua, at the heart of the City. I had visited here on occasion, studying the D'Angeline Gods, and the peaceful mood that always hung about the place was still here, though with a sober overtone.
I said my prayers, to both their Gods and mine, speeding Sabrina's journey to Terre d'Ange Beyond and hoping that her family would find some comfort, and that Prince Christien would survive.
I left early, feeling a bit of an intruder on the D'Angeline's grief, and since there was a moratorium on business, I wrote a long letter to my Uncle, whom I missed desperately at times like this.
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Post by Guy de Layne on Jan 25, 2011 0:30:21 GMT -5
I brought Rochelle to the Temple of Elua early, and our trek was a silent one. She was growing so much, this sweet, serious ward of mine. Now at 15, she had lost so much. Her mother, so recently, and with Denis as a father, well, I did what I could to make up for that. She was like little sister to me, even more so than Sophine, because Sophine and I had grown up apart. Rochelle I was watching blossom before my eyes, and the more she grew, the more she impressed me.
She was somber, here at the Temple, as she lay her flowers, and then rested her head against my shoulder. "Do you think she's there already, in Terre d'Ange Beyond?"
"I don't know, sweetling, but I hope so..." I was priest, something people often forgot, but I was not one for sugarcoating. "None of us truly knows what is beyond this world, but I imagine that she will find a measure of peace, having worn the Crown in such difficult times."
"Who would kill her, Guy? It's terrifying..." She hugged herself and I wrapped my arm around her.
"You don't have to be afraid, you have me."
"Not forever..." I wondered later if she was a prophetess with those words, but at the time I had no idea of what lay ahead.
"Long enough, do not fret." And she smiled, though sadly, and all was well with us. Back home, we took turns reading to each other, and I reflected that a year ago I had chafed at this job, glorified babysitting I'd called it, but now that I had gotten to know Rochelle, I never felt that it was chore to guard her. Perhaps it was not only the Queen who had found peace these days.
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Manon nó Courcel
Adept
Valerian House
Personal Courtesan of Prince Delauney de la Courcel
Posts: 285
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Post by Manon nó Courcel on Jan 25, 2011 0:35:57 GMT -5
Not many things brought me out of Valerian House these days, my depression having only deepened as time passed and the scar on my back became no less ugly and disfiguring. I feigned illness to avoid assignations, enough so that the Dowayne had sent me to Balm for a checkup. Hiding my back from the Adept had been no small matter, but he had sensed easily enough that my malaise was not physical, and had prescribed things like 'fresh air' and 'a healthy diet.' I pretended to do these things, and it seemed to pacify Trinette - for now.
When the Queen was murdered, however, the news rocked the City like an earthquake. Even someone as self-centered as I could not help but feel for the Royal family, losing a member and almost losing another in the same day.
I brought flowers to the memorial, laying them upon a growing pile and watching the mourners for awhile, saying some hellos to the Camellia novices that came through. It had not been so long since I was one of those children, so much to learn .... so many things I hadn't learned, which haunted me now.
On the walk home, I kicked stones and sang sad songs, ending up eventually curled up in a chair in Dante's room, while he was off presumably doing his own mourning.
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Post by Raen Shahrizai on Jan 25, 2011 0:44:08 GMT -5
If it weren't for Asha, I don't think I would have come. It was too much, too hard to remember Lei's funeral, which was a hazy memory of pain and an almost visceral fear that I could not survive such a loss. I had, of course, seemingly by Asha's will alone, and I clung to her and the baby as if I would drown in sorrow otherwise.
We came to the Temple of Elua and laid flowers, and Asha prayed, her sweetness softening me toward her once more. I loved Lei, I could never deny it, but there was something to be said for Asha's softness, for her gentle care. She was a Shahrizai in name, but not at heart, for she seemed to have none of our family's penchant for schemes or cruelty. She did possess the patience of a saint, however, and perhaps she saw more than she let on.
Regardless, she spoke soft, lovely words, and I felt better for hearing them, and I thought, perhaps if the Queen could hear them, they would comfort her as well.
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Post by Yvaine L'Envers-Shahrizai on Jan 25, 2011 0:51:00 GMT -5
I hadn't planned to come, knowing that Henri would be at the funeral and that maybe he would come here afterward. Instead I went early, before he could appear, and when I entered, I spied Zayn immediately. Things were strained between us, as they had been since the first time Henri bedded me and sent me spiraling into myself. She didn't understand and I had never told her.
Still, she was my sister, and I stepped up to her quietly. "Zayn," I said softly, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. "How are you, sister?"
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Post by Zayn L'Envers-Shahrizai on Jan 25, 2011 10:38:58 GMT -5
Turned as I was, I could see Yvain clearly as she approached, her eyes on me telling volumes that she knew immediately who I was behind my veil. I checked a sigh; so much for anonymity. But, then, she was my sister after all, even if we hadn't spoken much of late. Of late? I hadn't even known she was coming to Terre d'Ange before she just popped out of midair at Henris side. I seethed at that, but it was swallowed quickly, pushed into the little box in the corner of my mind that I kept tightly strapped shut.
"Yvaine," I chimed back softly. After all this time in Terre d'Ange, it was almost a blessing to hear the accent of the Akkadian culture upon her tongue as she spoke to me, even if our words were in d'Angeline. My veil in place, I watched her; she seemed to want to be cordial, and I had no qualms with that; for all the distance between us had bothered me, for all that Henri had apparently spent enough time with her to travel with her ate at me, she was still my sister. There was no way she was intimate with him like I was.. or had been. I was special to Henri, after all.
"I'm well enough. And you? You look radiant even in mourning," I smiled, taking her hand in mine and giving it a light squeeze. Yvaine was darling; I didn't understand the distance between us, but I loved her nevertheless, and ached to have my sister back again.
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Post by Gareth nó Valerian on Jan 25, 2011 11:28:33 GMT -5
Calista was a girl who controlled herself as much as she could, but at nature there was a very shy sweetness to her; her own heart was not one that developed thick scars of bitterness like mine was. "I understand," I told her in the same barely-heard tone that she used. "But don't worry. Everything is going to be alright." Maybe they were simple words, the same that would have come from anyone, but they were sincere and I hoped they were enough to comfort her. I was often at a loss for decent words these days.
The longer we stood still the more I noticed the familiar features that tended to put me on edge, and with a nod I looked back at Calista again rather than around at the other people who were assembled. The Temple of Elua wasn't a place to give in to bitter memories or anything so negative, especially when showing respect for the dead. "Let's see the pictures- viewing her as she was will help us to remember what she was in her prime and not so much what monstrosities were done." And it probably would.
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Post by Adelaide nó Nicodeme on Jan 25, 2011 14:08:02 GMT -5
The Temple of Kushiel was deathly quiet today. No one sought penance. In fact, the only sounds I had heard in the early hours of the morning was the crackling of the brazier before the effigy of Lord Kushiel and they heavy footsteps of the priests and priestesses as they made their way through the halls.
We had all been dismissed from our lessons and left to mourn in our own way. The young children in our care, happily oblivious to the pall of mourning that covered the City of Elua, cavorted in the sun, a reminder that grief was only a temporary thing.
I was mildly surprised when Master Auberon granted me permission to attend the memorial service at the Temple of Elua. I suspect he had his suspicions that I was motivated not by piety but a desire to see something more of the City's citizens than the priests and the sorry lot that always came for penance, but in the end I won out, receiving only a stern warning that I was to be respectful and mind that I did not tread on the flowers or have other such 'accidents'.
So it was that I found myself at Elua's Temple, in my cleanest black robes, a black ribbon binding my golden locks, and my silver pendant of the rod and flail swinging as I walked. My shoes I deposited at the entrance, joining the pile that had amassed.
I nearly gasped out loud at the sight of all the people! Adepts! Nobility! Even, I thought, one of the Royals! It was one thing to see one at a time, as with penance, it was quite another to see them gathered en masse.
It was wonderful, pity the circumstances were not so.
I took a deep breath and went inside, gazing up at the pictures of the Queen with wide eyes. She seemed timeless, less a woman than some ethereal being. It was hard to imagine that such a woman could succumb to death. I glanced towards where people were laying flowers and inwardly cursed myself for not thinking to bring something from the Temple gardens.
Well, I may not have had flowers, but I had words...
"Mighty Kushiel," I murmured. "I pray that the Queen does not tarry in Your realm, but that You allow her to swiftly join those who have come before her." That sounded acceptable to my ears. I was not sure if my elders would have agreed, but they were not here paying their respects.
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Post by Calista nó Valerian on Jan 25, 2011 19:59:06 GMT -5
Gareth was a picture of propriety and solidness.. and yet I knew he hurt, even if I didn't know the specifics of it. Douleur was gone to live with a Shahrizai family; she and Gareth had been close friends, so mayhap that was it. Either way I knew I had to pull myself out of my melancholy, knew I had to be stronger than I was. I was of Valerian; we bent, we whipped in the wind, but we didn't break. We were supple, and we survived.
Smiling softly at Gareth, I nodded at his suggestion, my hand venturing to find his and clasp it warmly. "That's a good idea... I'm sure she'd rather us remember her in her strength and glory rather than as a poor woman who died too young." And too tragic. Giving his hand a soft squeeze as we made our way through the growing throng, I did my best not to rise up on my tiptoes to try to peer over heads; being short definitely had distinct disadvantages.
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Post by Gareth nó Valerian on Jan 25, 2011 20:37:51 GMT -5
The hand that slipped into mine was warm and I squeezed it gently in return as we started toward the various portraits. Queen Sabrina, defender of the innocent, intelligent woman who we knew so little of, and beautiful woman. Now she was dead, another to die after a line of so many, and somehow a little sadder when looked at it in that way. How many more were to come? Hopefully none that could hurt us so much as this death had.
With a gentle smile for Calista I made sure to stand at a distance where she could at least somewhat see the pictures without straining too much toward them; in a happier circumstance I may have lifted her up a bit so she could but this wasn't the time or place. "Did you know her, or meet her?" I asked Calista quietly as she looked around; I thought I remembered her being at Dominic's trial but I'd done so much to try and block that out that it was a little bit fuzzy.
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Post by Grace Ouilet on Jan 25, 2011 23:04:44 GMT -5
I couldn't believe we were here. Not just here, at the Memorial for Queen Sabrina, but in the City proper at all. We'd arrived but two days before, Jean utterly puffed at first in pride that his son was marrying the Dauphine, but it took less than an hour to hear what happened. There were guards at the gates, but they were stopping people leaving, not entering, something that made little sense at the time but all the sense in the world now.
I hated being here.. I hated it, and I loved it. I was close to Marcel here, a blessing and a curse both, knowing how we loved one another, and knowing too that nothing could ever come of it. If Jean had coughing and dizzy fits from time to time, well, it was only sometimes and the rest of the time he was as healthy as a boar. The only positive thing I had to say is the trip had kept him from trying to rut on me like some wild animal, at least so far. I was blessedly untouched since Marcel and I had coupled, something I strained to hold onto for as long as I could. I liked the idea that it was he who touched me last, and not because of who he was set to marry, but because of him. Because he was Marcel, the beautiful, kind hearted, wildly funny man who had stolen my heart from the first time we'd met. Any advance from my husband brought more disgust from me than it ever had, but I couldn't help it. Jean had done this.. Jean had taken Jacques' inheritance away from him and given it to Marcel on the clause that he wedded the Dauphine. He set it up, and she had chosen him... all because of our love for one another.
And now we stood, in the city at midmorning of our third day here, still unable to get word to Marcel that we were here. The security around the palace was thick enough that Marcels own father couldn't reach him, though Jean had no problem letting everyone he spoke to know he was Marcels father. It disgusted me, but I kept my tongue and stood silently next to him and he boasted, his arm snaking around my waist and drawing me against him. I didn't feel his wife.. I felt like a prize bauble, something he liked to show off and play with a bit before putting it away, but all I had to do was look at Miryelle to know why I was doing it. I'd do anything for my daughter... including putting up with this farce of a marriage.
Taking my shoes off, I whispered soft words as I entered Eluas temple, feeling a warmth settle on me almost immediately. There were people everywhere, and I clutched Miryelle to me as we walked in, wide-eyed and wondering.
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Post by Aurianne nó Hughes on Jan 26, 2011 10:26:15 GMT -5
Shoeless, I made my way through the throng of people as I looked around, calling on every last vestige of calm as I could. I'd never met the Queen, but I'd seen her at a fete, and she was.. radiant. Beautiful and strong... and for her to be cut down in the prime of her life brought tears to my eyes.
Not for the first time I wished I'd come with Yves, but I didn't want to be a pest to him. Damien was gone still; it was up to me to represent the Hughes in spirit as well as physical presence, a matter I took seriously.
With this many people, I didn't recognize anyone. The throng shifted in blacks and greys with the intermittent spot of color throughout, but even my own dress was a somber charcoal so dark that it was nearly black. Clasping my fingers together, I found a quiet place to the side and said a quiet prayer for the soul of Sabrina de la Courcel, my eyes just able to make the largest of the paintings on display out over the mass of heads.
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Post by Decimus mab Halcyone on Jan 26, 2011 10:32:41 GMT -5
Tragic. The news of Sabrinas death had reached me quickly, and in good time too; with Spring here, the roads were finally able to be traversed with the snows gone and the mud mostly so. I had been readying to travel to my estate in Kusheth to check on things there and settle a few matters that had arisen, but the news of the Queens murder cut those plans to shreds.
Now, rather than riding towards Kusheth I was standing before the alter of Elua, staring up at a painting of the woman who had ruled so short a time. My heart was heavy; we were distantly related through our grandparents; they were brother and sister. I'd never met Sabrina though, never calling on that relation, always thinking I had time. Time had run out though, it seemed, and I wondered if perhaps I should pay my respects to the Princess Coretta soon. Rumor had it she would be crowned, though she had neither accepted nor denied, not til the funeral was through. Closing my eyes, I said another prayer; this time for Prince Christien, that he was able to come out of his sickness soon and regain his health quickly. These were troubled times, and the knowledge of a murderer on the loose had me on edge.
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Post by Owen du Blaine on Jan 26, 2011 11:49:23 GMT -5
I'd been back in the City for less than three weeks when news came of the Queen. It was a shock, something that cut to the center of me for personal reasons that I'd never explained to anyone else. Stopping by a shoppe the day before, I picked out a necklace of thin gold links, the pendant fashioned with a likeness of a woman being enveloped in a hold by Elua. Two tiny diamonds sparkled where they touched, and I paid a little more than the asking price.
Now, upon the day of sadness, I made my way up the walk to Eluas temple, through the throng of mourners milling. Flowers, gifts and candles lined the fenceline and along the pillars of Eluas temple, a testament of the people to a ruler they loved. Taking the necklace from its giftbox, I found a little bolt sticking out of one of the pillars and hung the necklace there before making my way inside, ready to spend time in prayer here, in remembrance.
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Post by Calista nó Valerian on Jan 26, 2011 16:00:13 GMT -5
"I..."
Ah, Elua, I wasn't sure how to answer that. Standing next to Gareth in the spot he'd chosen, I could see most of the largest painting now, but I didn't fret over not being able to see the smaller ones. There were a lot of people clamoring to see our fallen Queen; I wouldn't begrudge anyone anything on this day. "I talked to her once, but not in conversation. Dominics trial.. I wasn't questioned very long though. I'm sure she was a lovely woman in person. How could she not be?" My eyes went from the paintings and to Gareths face again, my smile holding a slightly sweet cast.
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Post by Gareth nó Valerian on Jan 26, 2011 16:46:44 GMT -5
So I'd been right- it had been that awful trial, the same place I'd seen her though I hadn't spoken to her myself. "I remember a little," I said honestly, my tone carefully flat though I smiled slightly. I had no reason to be upset at Calista, and in fact I wasn't really upset at all- but it was a difficult topic. "I don't suppose that was probably the best time to see her, but at least she did what she could." Her only mistake that I'd witnesses was her leniency to that man, and that certainly wasn't worth her death.
Snapping myself out of my thoughts I looked back at my House-mate and smiled a little more widely. "She was lovely, I'm sure. Every fete or party that I was at and she attended she always looked happy and calm and the decisions she made were good ones. That's the important thing to remember I'd say. And now she's at peace with the others who have gone before her, and grateful for all of our prayers." My emotions were pretty steady but I knew that she wore hers delicately still and I wanted to offer her whatever would help her in her pain.
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Post by Karina Mikhailova nó Valerian on Jan 26, 2011 19:31:29 GMT -5
The adepts of the Night Court vacated its ground, the nobles came down from the palace, the artisans left their shops closed up tight. All to come here to mourn our young queen. She had been on the throne for less than a year, but her story had captured us. Her struggled to do well by us despite her lack of training, her love and then loss of her Ruskovian prince. And now she was gone, struck down by an unknown assailant, still loose and probably still in the capital. Shock, grief, fear. They all mixed and caused an uneasy populace. But at least today, people were coming together.
My toes sunk into the soft spring grass as I entered the sanctuary, a white lilly in my hands. Gently I placed it in the gathering mass of foliage that now decorated the grounds. I bowed my head, sending up a prayer that Elua would treat Sabrina de la Courcel well.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 26, 2011 20:26:35 GMT -5
Walking through the City it was easy to see that it was in mourning. Even the lowest elements, the criminals and beggars, weren't to be seen, hiding out in their dens in fear and suspicion for whatever had changed the way they were used to things and wondering if they were going to be blamed for it. It may well have been one of them, for all anyone knew, but that didn't draw them out any further. Even I, street-rat born, knew what all of this meant in the great scheme of things. No one was safe. Everything could change. This may well be the end of an era.
The Sanctuary of Elua always exuded an air of calm, accepting peace- though I'd not often gone there to seek it myself. There were other places that drew me more. Now, though, this was the place that a person should be. I was dressed in a grey shirt with black pants, simple enough but still mourning clothes, and I'd decided to make my way here with Michaela. I could only give her a slight sideways glance as we stepped in, and wait for what she'd make of all of this. I was never one who understand grief or tears well, but she was my House-mate and fellow tumbler, and while I was many things I wasn't heartless. "You going to make it through this, pigeon?"
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Post by Michaela nó Eglantine on Jan 26, 2011 20:54:12 GMT -5
In response to Bayard's question, I glanced up at him and nodded. I hadn't known Sabrina, being rather young, but I felt that I owed the Queen some sort of tribute; she had made the City a good place to be and now that she was gone, there was something in the air, something palpable, that felt as if the peace may not last for much longer.
Now, walking beside Bayard -- who had been kind enough to offer his escort, that I may attend -- and dressed in a dark silver dress, I couldn't help but feel a dark cloud descend. Nothing would ever be the same again. "Yes," I answered him out loud in case he hadn't seen my nod. "It's just -- I feel like nothing will ever be the same again. You know?"
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Post by Yves Chevalier on Jan 26, 2011 22:22:10 GMT -5
I debated for a long time about going to the Queen's memorial. In my former life, as I liked to think of it, I had spent some time at court, had possibly met some of the people who would be there. Then again, time and circumstances change a man, and I doubted that there were many who would know me.
Counting on that, I went to pay my respects to the Queen. I had met her once, before she was Queen, and that was how I remembered her, a pretty young girl with a shy smile. What had she been like as Queen? I confess I had stopped paying politics any mind a long time ago, since Aragonia...
When I got there, I had only time to lay a flower amongst all of the others - some enterprising peddler was giving them out for a silver piece, though I'd be willing to be someone would come along and stop that anytime - before I saw her: Auri. My heart in my throat, I walked up to her and smiled softly.
"Auri, I'm glad to see you ... even at such a somber occasion. How are you holding up?" It must have been some type of heresy, how happy I was to see Auri, at a memorial of all places, but I couldn't make myself feel bad about it.
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