Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on May 29, 2013 16:41:24 GMT -5
May 15th, 23 CLE
Like a virus the pain of the Isles was spreading. Through vein, through pain and through misery it ate away at the soul of the lone figure; a single living woman that remain captive upon its tainted dirt. Sleepless nights filled with black silhouettes and frightening visages were a common plague. What sunlight pierced the veil of darkness high above the Isles only touched the garden where flowers bloomed and trees grew stronger with each day. An invasion to the Isles, constantly struggling to remain alive and unharmed much like the Noble.
With heavy breaths, dreams of nightmarish things terrified her in her sleep. Books fell to pieces within her grasp, hundreds of years old and broken down too heavily to read. Dust stained her cheeks as she tried to find a compromise, cleaning the filthy rooms lay blanketed in years of untouched dirt and grime. But even then, she was unwelcome. Servants protested it, gave her trouble, stole her supplies and left her feeling all the more useless and unwanted in the castle. What more might she do?
One servant took pity, and 'dropped' the items before storming off. A passing comment that he'd slipped up, and she took it back before he could take it away. He would not dare harm her for fear of repercussion as the King was fiercely protective of her.
She arrived to the King's room as ever the respectful Noble she was. She called him 'Majesty' and dare not make eye contact as her status within the Kingdom was shown to be null. She was nothing here. A prisoner allowed to live comfortably - if you might call constantly battling your own sanity 'comfortable'.
But it was on a particularly cold night that the world unraveled for her. A pure, innocent soul only ever wishing to find peace. Only desiring to bring happiness to those she watched over.. She asked a question she had been holding back for the entirety of her time trapped upon the daunting, cursed Isles.
"Why did you attack Demacia?"
Hesitantly the King told her why. Nothing could possibly have hurt her more then to hear his explanation... He wanted to show the power of the Isles.. With a broken heart, and a mind that had been trampled and riddled with such intense pain -
She snapped.
Her hands gripped upon his throat and forced him to the ground. Her nails pierced his skin as she screamed, succumbing to the rage that had been born of her grief and sorrow. He was responsible. Her Mother, the De'Vera estate and all her servants. The hundreds of lives in Demacia that were slaughtered. The anguish the people had to face as a result. The cries of the farmers crucified outside the city walls.
The poisoned cider by her own hand.. forced by the spirit Thresh had placed in her. All those lives ruined...
She broke.
Nothing could have prepared for the moment of psychosis that touched upon her mind. Magic sprung forth in the shape of ebony and ivory tendrils, attacking each other as they battled it out for control of Belle. The chaotic ebony armor and the ivory spread across her head and along her body, with frayed wings barely speckled with feathers as if a baby bird were still growing them.
She slammed his head into the splintered chair he had sat upon, with blood coating her fingertips. The King's own grip unbroken, holding her throat to try to force her off of him.
She wouldn't move.
She felt herself tipped and thrown onto the floor, and the King pinning her down with cyan flames burning from his eyes.
"Is Jarvan not still alive woman?" The King snarled, "Is Demacia still standing? I could bring them all down with but one command."
"You promised!" Cried Belle, lost to the fury that burned with sickening heat.
"Exactly. I promised not to bring them down. I can have them blowing away like dust if I so commanded. But I will not..." The King growls at her, "For you. I will not."
The wings, and tendrils faded away as the fury slowly waned. But still the armor remained upon her, only to be shattered by the response to her question. "Why!? Why haven't you just killed me!?"
"Because..." The King said as he leaned in close, "I do love you, Belle."
Her eyes widened as the chaotic, ebony armor became a black mist and faded away. She could not believe what she had heard. What cruel fate had cursed her to know love so strongly, so much that she would be forced to decide what was more important? Demacia, and her husband, or The Ruined King's rule over the Isles. The security of his position.
She felt.. terribly alone in that moment as she stared up at the Ruined King. He could have anything in the world, and he wanted her. But she could hardly bare the intense anguish of the Isles as it corrupted her magic, and changed who she was.
Slowly she found her feet, and the dizzying fever that struck her in the chilled evening air. The fireplace no longer warmed her. The cloak no longer gave her comfort from the cold.
"Meet with him.." She said in a soft tone.
"It would never work." He retorted.
"Please, Majesty.. Please just try."
She could feel her balance growing ever more unsteady. She felt his arms quickly wrap around her from behind, holding her so she might not fall. Hesitantly, he responded. "I will do this.."
A smile.. Her last smile, before she fell unconscious.
He agreed to meet with Jarvan IV. All she wanted was peace. An alliance. A chance to see her husband, and fix all the wrongs done. There was strength in their bonding. As far fetched as it may be, perhaps.
..just maybe...
They could work together.
Two days later
Still weakened, but recovering, Belle would be found in the garden resting up beneath the ebony willow tree. She gazed towards what stars peeked beyond the ominous clouds that constantly threatened to close up the sky once more. The deep purple cloak settled about her form helping to warm her weakened body from the chill of the evening air. Quiet, and for the first time in a while - content, thinking on new possibilities between Demacia and The Ruined King. She could not help but to be happy about it.
Her sacrifice was to remain upon the Isles. She gave herself to TRK without hesitation knowing that Demacia, and her husband were safe. And all the Demacian souls were released, or would be, allowed to move onto the next world without hindrance. It gave her reason to celebrate for it was a small victory despite how difficult it was to remain on the Isles.
Teal orbs traveled along the glow of flowers as they illuminated the garden with haunting lights dancing ever so vibrantly in the darkness. The stone table Legion had set out some time ago, sat near where she was seated against the tree. A hot cup of tea rolling with steam as it cooled in the night air, smelling of lotus flower, sat upon the table.
Like a virus the pain of the Isles was spreading. Through vein, through pain and through misery it ate away at the soul of the lone figure; a single living woman that remain captive upon its tainted dirt. Sleepless nights filled with black silhouettes and frightening visages were a common plague. What sunlight pierced the veil of darkness high above the Isles only touched the garden where flowers bloomed and trees grew stronger with each day. An invasion to the Isles, constantly struggling to remain alive and unharmed much like the Noble.
With heavy breaths, dreams of nightmarish things terrified her in her sleep. Books fell to pieces within her grasp, hundreds of years old and broken down too heavily to read. Dust stained her cheeks as she tried to find a compromise, cleaning the filthy rooms lay blanketed in years of untouched dirt and grime. But even then, she was unwelcome. Servants protested it, gave her trouble, stole her supplies and left her feeling all the more useless and unwanted in the castle. What more might she do?
One servant took pity, and 'dropped' the items before storming off. A passing comment that he'd slipped up, and she took it back before he could take it away. He would not dare harm her for fear of repercussion as the King was fiercely protective of her.
She arrived to the King's room as ever the respectful Noble she was. She called him 'Majesty' and dare not make eye contact as her status within the Kingdom was shown to be null. She was nothing here. A prisoner allowed to live comfortably - if you might call constantly battling your own sanity 'comfortable'.
But it was on a particularly cold night that the world unraveled for her. A pure, innocent soul only ever wishing to find peace. Only desiring to bring happiness to those she watched over.. She asked a question she had been holding back for the entirety of her time trapped upon the daunting, cursed Isles.
"Why did you attack Demacia?"
Hesitantly the King told her why. Nothing could possibly have hurt her more then to hear his explanation... He wanted to show the power of the Isles.. With a broken heart, and a mind that had been trampled and riddled with such intense pain -
She snapped.
Her hands gripped upon his throat and forced him to the ground. Her nails pierced his skin as she screamed, succumbing to the rage that had been born of her grief and sorrow. He was responsible. Her Mother, the De'Vera estate and all her servants. The hundreds of lives in Demacia that were slaughtered. The anguish the people had to face as a result. The cries of the farmers crucified outside the city walls.
The poisoned cider by her own hand.. forced by the spirit Thresh had placed in her. All those lives ruined...
She broke.
Nothing could have prepared for the moment of psychosis that touched upon her mind. Magic sprung forth in the shape of ebony and ivory tendrils, attacking each other as they battled it out for control of Belle. The chaotic ebony armor and the ivory spread across her head and along her body, with frayed wings barely speckled with feathers as if a baby bird were still growing them.
She slammed his head into the splintered chair he had sat upon, with blood coating her fingertips. The King's own grip unbroken, holding her throat to try to force her off of him.
She wouldn't move.
She felt herself tipped and thrown onto the floor, and the King pinning her down with cyan flames burning from his eyes.
"Is Jarvan not still alive woman?" The King snarled, "Is Demacia still standing? I could bring them all down with but one command."
"You promised!" Cried Belle, lost to the fury that burned with sickening heat.
"Exactly. I promised not to bring them down. I can have them blowing away like dust if I so commanded. But I will not..." The King growls at her, "For you. I will not."
The wings, and tendrils faded away as the fury slowly waned. But still the armor remained upon her, only to be shattered by the response to her question. "Why!? Why haven't you just killed me!?"
"Because..." The King said as he leaned in close, "I do love you, Belle."
Her eyes widened as the chaotic, ebony armor became a black mist and faded away. She could not believe what she had heard. What cruel fate had cursed her to know love so strongly, so much that she would be forced to decide what was more important? Demacia, and her husband, or The Ruined King's rule over the Isles. The security of his position.
She felt.. terribly alone in that moment as she stared up at the Ruined King. He could have anything in the world, and he wanted her. But she could hardly bare the intense anguish of the Isles as it corrupted her magic, and changed who she was.
Slowly she found her feet, and the dizzying fever that struck her in the chilled evening air. The fireplace no longer warmed her. The cloak no longer gave her comfort from the cold.
"Meet with him.." She said in a soft tone.
"It would never work." He retorted.
"Please, Majesty.. Please just try."
She could feel her balance growing ever more unsteady. She felt his arms quickly wrap around her from behind, holding her so she might not fall. Hesitantly, he responded. "I will do this.."
A smile.. Her last smile, before she fell unconscious.
He agreed to meet with Jarvan IV. All she wanted was peace. An alliance. A chance to see her husband, and fix all the wrongs done. There was strength in their bonding. As far fetched as it may be, perhaps.
..just maybe...
They could work together.
Two days later
Still weakened, but recovering, Belle would be found in the garden resting up beneath the ebony willow tree. She gazed towards what stars peeked beyond the ominous clouds that constantly threatened to close up the sky once more. The deep purple cloak settled about her form helping to warm her weakened body from the chill of the evening air. Quiet, and for the first time in a while - content, thinking on new possibilities between Demacia and The Ruined King. She could not help but to be happy about it.
Her sacrifice was to remain upon the Isles. She gave herself to TRK without hesitation knowing that Demacia, and her husband were safe. And all the Demacian souls were released, or would be, allowed to move onto the next world without hindrance. It gave her reason to celebrate for it was a small victory despite how difficult it was to remain on the Isles.
Teal orbs traveled along the glow of flowers as they illuminated the garden with haunting lights dancing ever so vibrantly in the darkness. The stone table Legion had set out some time ago, sat near where she was seated against the tree. A hot cup of tea rolling with steam as it cooled in the night air, smelling of lotus flower, sat upon the table.
