Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

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Drucilla
Posts: 31
Character: Mirana

Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Drucilla » March 21st, 2021, 3:17 am

Then


"You should feel honored, Josephine." Her mother said, looking down to meet her daughter's gaze. Her eyes shone eerily in the dim light of candles in the room, a strangely elated expression upon her face. "You are the one who embodies Sacrifice, itself. Not everyone is given the chance to represent something so pure. Why, Decus himself must be so pleased with us! Aren't you happy?" The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, the prickling sensation of little eyes upon her making her all the more aware of the danger of the situation she was in. Josephine had learned long ago that to disagree or show negative emotions in regards to this topic would cause her mother's violent temper to make an appearance. It would be one thing if Josephine were alone, but her other siblings were in the room. She wouldn't risk their well being for the sake of saying something contrary to their mother. A mask of serenity fell over her face, the corners of her lips turning upward into a bright smile. "Yes, mother. Of course I am." The girl said, a pleased look immediately crossing the older woman's face.


A crisis narrowly avoided.


But it seemed as though her mother wasn't done. "Nicolien will lead the family with beauty and grace. And you will train to become the sharpest sword the Templars have. It's what we've done for years, you know." Her mother said in a matter-of-fact way, the look on her face turning thoughtful for a moment. Without another word, her mother turned away and made her way across the room to retrieve a pair of scissors from the nearby table. Josephine's heart suddenly began pounding against her chest as a wave of fear rushed over her, afraid of what her mother's intention was now that she was armed with a very sharp pair of scissors. The woman crossed the room once again, a slender hand reaching out toward the redheaded girl. "Now, hold still, Josephine." Her mother spoke, a deceptive warmth to her voice. All she could do was brace for what was coming. "You don't need all of this. It'll just get in the way. Templars don't need vanity."


Snip. Snip.


"Yes, mother." Josephine said, smiling warmly as to not alarm her younger siblings. Her long, crimson hair fell down her shoulders and onto the floor as she did her very best to ignore the unshed tears burning her eyes.


A blade didn't need tears.

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Drucilla
Posts: 31
Character: Mirana

Re: Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Drucilla » April 29th, 2021, 8:24 pm

Now

If her mother had known which path Josephine would have taken, she would have lost her mind. In fact, if Josephine had heard the tale in the years before, she would have simply laughed it off and dismissed it as a strange dream of some sort. After all, who could have possibly foreseen the Templar from an incredibly devout prelacy family aligning herself with a mage? But that may have been understating things a bit.

It was more than simply aligning herself with him. Josephine would gladly put everything on the line for the sake of his safety. Meeting Thaddeus had been the greatest blessing given to her since her arrival in the First Province. He was someone who understood her, who had taken action for her sake when no one else would. He was a good man, despite what the current rumors and outright lies were, and his existence was an incredibly special one. But it wasn't only for his sake. She would risk herself for of all of the mages that had been betrayed by someone they thought would shelter them. The thought that they might be hunted, simply because of one man's petty anger and their own gifts turned her stomach. There had been a nagging feeling inside of her that told her it wasn't right and that's the feeling that she had followed.

Nicolien had warned her of the consequences of making that decision. That it would put her directly in the line of fire and potentially end with her head being sought out for gold. Still, it was a decision Josephine gladly made. It was the first time in her life that she ever felt strongly about anything, and she wasn't going to turn away from it. It coincidentally came at the very same time that Graelynn had decided to free herself of the shackles that bind her, compelled by a very similar feeling of outrage toward the man who had wrong so many innocents, and find something that made her happy. Good. Josephine was happy for her. Perhaps the ravens were finally learning how to fly, after so many years of being kept in a cage.

The path ahead of her wasn't going to be an easy one. Josephine knew that. And there was a long list people who had to come to Justice before she could rest easy. But she wasn't alone on her path. And as long as she could still draw breath, she would wield her sword for the sake of those who could not, whether they were mage or mundane.

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Drucilla
Posts: 31
Character: Mirana

Re: Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Drucilla » June 3rd, 2021, 1:13 am

Josephine wasn't sure if what happened could be considered a victory. After all, the twenty five or so heavily armored men meant to ambush them now lay lifeless in rows, committed to the pyre. Among them, men then she had no love for. One she had threatened over scathing words written in a gossip rag, for the sake of her family. The other, just a man who seemed too cantankerous for his own good. And while there was a modicum of relief that they were gone, given the threats thrown about, it was eclipsed by the sympathy she felt for those who survived. They arrived as Graelynn had began giving final rites to the men and weren't shy in voicing their grief. Rightfully so. How could she possibly blame them?

And yet, there was nothing she could do to provide any comfort. Josephine had hoped to avoid bloodshed that evening. That perhaps someone could talk sense into one another. But it hadn't ended up that way. Whatever the reasoning was, there were men dead. "This is the reality of war." She murmured to Graelynn, who had stopped her sermon as Samara had found the scene and drawn her blade, screaming at those who were still gathered. "I've seen it many times." People would die, if they went to battle. It was every warrior's expectation, but there was always the hope that you would survive to see the next day. And it always left behind those who mourned. Death was cruel. Death cared little if you were young or old, frail or healthy. Perhaps that was why it was important to live one's life as they pleased. Josephine hadn't been able to, but it had been her greatest wish for Graelynn. For Laurent.

The sound of the woman's voice, as well as Lucien's suddenly became hard to understand and her sword, the Talon that Nicolien had so carefully crafted for her, dropped to the ground. She thought for a brief moment how strange it was that her strength had suddenly left her before she collapsed upon the ground near her sister, the clanging of her armor announcing her impact. There were a chorus of screams, many calling her name. She was rushed by her siblings, Nicolien, Laurent, Graelynn, as well as others, panic written across their faces. She peered up at them for a moment, then glanced to the ground, where a puddle of crimson blood surrounded her. Oh. Her heart had been beating so fast, adrenaline coursing through her body, that she had failed to notice the fatal wound delivered to her when she had been engaged in battle.

It seemed as if Death had come for her. Another casualty in this battle for the arsonists who had destroyed Highfield.

What they were saying was lost on her, but she could tell they were screaming. Crying. All she could think about was how she wasn't ready to die yet. There were plans in place after this battle to move in with Graelynn at the vacant house near the ruins of Highfield and play things by ear. She'd already prepared her belongings, packing up the entire house, save for two chairs which she used to speak to Violetta before the battle. Nicolien had made it clear where she stood on involving themselves in battle, should it come to it. They weren't welcome home, nor were they welcome to be de Ravins. Still, she didn't hold it against her. Nicolien knew how to lead well and her desire to remain neutral would avoid the Parish hardships in the future. She excelled at leadership and had a sharp mind for dealings. Still, Josephine had spent her better years living as her family wanted her to. She wanted to make sure Graelynn wouldn't be given the same fate. Laurie did as he pleased, anyway. Josephine didn't need to worry about him.

Then there was Thaddeus. The man she would love, even after her dying breath. Due to difficult decisions made, she hadn't even been able to tell him that she loved him. There were exchanges, however, and her only task he'd given her was to be safe and stay alive for one more day. He'd just given her a token of protection. Looks like Josephine had failed at that. How would he react to this? She regretted all of things she was unable to tell him, all of the things they weren't able to do. Maybe it would have been better to simply run away with him, as she had thought to do once before. But it was too late. The ifs and maybes would be left for another lifetime. Hopefully Thaddeus would forgive her for leaving early.

They were making desperate efforts to save her life. Koss did his very best amidst the panic. Josephine looked between her siblings and comrades, feeling the pain from her wound easing and a stillness beginning to take hold of her. "I love you all." She said to them, eyes closing. Her beloved siblings and friends would have to learn how to say goodbye on their own. Josephine couldn't help this time. Darkness washed over her as she breathed her last.

Then? Sands and silence.

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Lexi
Posts: 106
Character: Nicolien de Ravin

Re: Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Lexi » June 3rd, 2021, 3:29 am

She sat in the pub long after the rest of the Parish, save the night watch, had retired for the evening. Sleep eluded her the past few nights, truth be told it had eluded her for longer. Thoughts and worries, arguments and remembered conversations, voices from the past with nothing but disapproval no matter the choice she made, circled in her mind.

She stared at the unopened bottle of wine in front of her. A vice she’d once found solace in, until Lucian Delavious branded her the town drunk. A rumor he started thanks to her sisters. Nicolien pushed the bottle away. She could not afford weakness.

It was almost comical how history wove itself in cyclical patterns. She’d been thrilled when Jo returned home and even more so when Graelynn followed suit. Now they could focus on healing, on getting on with the business at hand, on being a family again. Together they were strong. Together they could weather any storm. Except no matter how hard she tried, keeping the family together was the one thing she could not do.

The burning of Highfield ignited a rage in her younger sister that no amount of talking could quell. It was important to her. Important enough that she would defy Nicolien’s orders and drag Josephine and Kalisto with her.

If you fight, remove your colors!” She had yelled at them as she followed from the pub and through the south gate. Her own anger at being disobeyed throbbed in her veins. She was the head of the de Ravin family and the leader of the Parish. She took no joy in giving orders but when she did, she expected them to be obeyed.

I was thinking just that, my lady,” Kalisto began, “Let those who wish to fight do so independently.

Jo cut him off, “That isn’t what she means. She is saying if we fight, we aren’t welcome back.

They were words she wished she could unsay. Words she would regret for the rest of her life.

It didn’t matter that after the Wolves assured Lucien they’d come to an agreement with the Teneborough Assembly, Nicolien relented and lifted the no engagement order if the promise was revoked. Or that, had she known a trap would be waiting for them, she would have fully supported their right to defend themselves. Or to defend themselves a second time when rushed from behind during a retreat. None of it mattered because Jo was gone and the last conversation they’d had put them back at odds.

It all felt so futile now. Josie was beyond her reach. Avi had left. Her siblings were lost in their own grief. It was as if all the tethers that kept her bound to the here and now had been cut at once and she was adrift in a sea of self doubt and unshed tears. What did any of it even matter? Eventually Grae would move on and odds were Laurie would go with her. Dominic was Decus knew where and their oldest brother had refused to join them. What was the point?

Long, graceful fingers grasped the neck of the wine bottle as she hurled it against the opposite wall with a scream. As long as Josie had been somewhere in this world things would be alright. The family would be alright. SHE would be alright. At least, that was what she’d always told herself.

Rochambeau rushed through the doors, sword half drawn as Nicolien stood and calmly turned.

Is everything alright, Lady de Ravin?

She looked at him a moment, her expression an emotionless mask.

No, and I am afraid it never will be.” She moved past the confused Chevalier and into the empty night.

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Lexi
Posts: 106
Character: Nicolien de Ravin

Re: Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Lexi » September 8th, 2022, 10:49 pm

Nicolien stood before the Parish Hall, a crude note, weathered and nearly illegible, stuck through with a katana of all things, dug deeply into the oak of the door. Grasping the hilt of the sword, she pulled it free, taking the paper in hand.

Your weak walls cannot hide your disgusting decadence. I have taken that which has been hoarded by you, those descended from daemons, and redistributed it to the good folk of Vitaveus. Forsake your false ways and beliefs and that which was taken may be restored, should it be earned.

Their walls had, in fact, been proven weak by the gaping hole someone had bashed through a side panel near the door. The other claims, however, were concerning. Descended from one touched by the holy flame of Decus, to suggest otherwise was an offense worthy of the highest punishment. To further suggest that their beliefs were false was nothing short of heresy. Whoever had left the note had no sense of self preservation. She would be within her rights to declare their life forfeit were their identity to be revealed; not that it would come to that.

With a sigh, she rolled the note up, tucking it into the inner pocket of her cloak and pushed the heavy doors open. Inside she was met with a mess of overturned furniture, broken bric a brac, and scattered belongings. Old newspapers covered the floor and a fine layer of dust settled over every bit of it. The bones of their home had long since been picked clean.

She made her way around the hall, first the sewing room, the very chests that Graelynn had so carefully organized, taken wholly with items inside. The spinning wheel was nothing more than kindling and the articles of clothing deemed undeserving left tossed about the room. In her own work room, the forge long gone cold, all of her ingots save for the tin, had been pilfered, along with the boards and logs. Worst of all, the filaments and recipes Koss and others had painstakingly gathered were nowhere to be found..

None of that mattered though. Everything they had, they had earned, harvested, or made with their own hands, by the sweat of their own brows. It did not matter that their material goods were gone. All that mattered was that they were returning and in time everything would be replaced.

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Lexi
Posts: 106
Character: Nicolien de Ravin

Re: Legacy of the de Ravin Parish

Post by Lexi » January 25th, 2023, 5:12 pm

She used to be good. Once. Maybe she still was; just around the edges where sentimentality bled into reality. There was no space for goodness in the First Province. If you were good then you were soft and if you were soft then you were a target. She’d survived long enough to know the difference between what people said and what they actually meant.

The hot water cascaded through her silken copper locks and down creamy skin flushed by the heat. She stood with her forehead pressed against the blessedly cool tile of the wall. She was prepared for the article that Mote insisted on publishing, despite having pulled it once before, now with fresh tidbits of juicy, unvalidated gossip. That was all anyone in the Province seemed to care about: who was fucking who, who was trying to kill who, whose laundry wasn’t quite as clean as they liked to pretend it was. In truth, it was a job that suited the woman. She had always had her nose in everyone else’s business. At one point it had even proven useful but now it was just a thorn in her side. She would be happy to never cross paths with Nee Starly again; a woman she once considered her best friend. Just another lesson learned. Trust was a limited commodity and, often, a convenient lie.

The water continued its trek down her body as her mind wandered. Hot, indoor plumbing was a blessing afforded by the Foundry. Not that she couldn’t set up her own system, she was a first class engineer afterall, but the Foundry tried to keep such things to themselves. With every day that ticked by she regretted the decision to move to the Fort more and more. Her blood borne right of citizenship was voided in this Helhole and she and her people were treated little better than the penniless refugees they kept segregated in filth and disease infested camps away from the more civilized population. Not that a majority of the population that called the Province or Fort Praesidium home could really be considered civilized. Thieves and murderers were allowed to roam free as long as they didn’t ply their trades WITHIN the walls of Prae and there was nothing the good citizens could do.

She laughed a little and it turned into a soft wheeze as the warm steam entered her lungs. There was that word again: good. Maybe it was because it was the end of the world that all color, joy, and integrity were drained from the landscape, leaving it as gray and hopeless as everything else. As gray and hopeless as the emptiness of her soul.

Perhaps there was nothing for them there in Fort Praesidium. They spent their coin, their time, and their resources and were given nothing in return save being allowed to rent a building for their Parish. Perhaps she had been too hasty in bringing her people back to the safety of the walls. It was definitely something to consider and be discussed.

As the water began to slowly shift from hot to warm to cool, she reached out a slender hand to turn the knob, shutting it off and reaching for the fine cotton lined robe Graelynn had made her. Now was the time that decisions needed to be made. Was there a future for the de Ravin Parish in Fort Praesidium or was it time to strike out on their own once more?

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