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06-30-2015, 04:06 AM
et la vie amait la mort
The Vicomtesse falls after the inability to establish leadership, to find a way to prove her worth in the world, set back into the lower ranks of citizenship, lingering in the gutters with the poor and the homeless. She can't stand the way that it makes her feel, abandoned by something once so grand that she held in her youthful fingers before it crumbled all away. Her previous life left her behind, telling her that she wasn't made for this sort of thing.
In a desperate act, she'd made the choice to find home again. Narcisse's understanding of French had grown with time, excelling with grace as she filled his mind with new vocabulary, teaching him every bit of their culture and preparing him to settle into her old home.
It ended badly. If it had gone well, then she wouldn't be found in the place she'd tried to leave. Her violet eyes couldn't trace out the path she'd taken. She couldn't remind the landmarks, even if there were any. Narcisse could only drink away at her pain with confused eyes, quickly growing into a young gentleman who tried with all of his heart to understand why his birthplace couldn't keep his graceful, elegant partner happy. He offers love as if it will mend her homesick heart only to receive small smiles. They warm his heart and he tries to give her the warmth in his heart that her short happiness brings him with no avail.
Snowflakes pass through her body like rain, weak eyes watching as her hooves make no mark in the snow floor. The moonlight would be cold and harsh if it feel from above, but tonight, it buries itself behind the thick, fluffy clouds and turns a dark eye from all of the living.
She'd be almost invisible if it wasn't for the shadow, casted by a tough-skinned pine that dares to thrive in the depths of winter.
She doesn't know if she's tired, broken, lost or depressed when she lets the snow embrace her spiritual essence, lying down beneath the canopy of pine needles and branches. Narcisse shivers, looking for her life as he presses into cold, lifeless and empty sides. The ghostly fingers of her body engulf him for a moment before he passes through.
He should know better than to look for her for warmth when she buries herself in her magic, but he's gotten desperate. Guilt hits her for a moment for what she has done.
Almost against her will, she changes, pushing visible life back into her body so that his small body can push into her winter coat to search out warmth.
"Je suis désolé, ma frère." Her eyes glue themselves out into the trees, praying to the Lord that the winter would somehow fade overnight, to be able to wake up to sunny days instead of frozen nights.
OOC: Sorry for making you wait on getting this to happen. Things will pick up more as I get back into her. I'm just a bit rusty!
Je suis désolé, ma frère. : I am sorry, my brother.
@[Hotaru]
