Postby Ally-Ann » Sun Jan 29, 2012 12:48 pm
=Eulalia, Berenike=
Eulalia felt her heart stop for a moment. "S-suicide...?" She whispered. Berenike nodded.
"That is why we must go and see her," Berenike stated. Eulalia nodded vigorously.
"Of course we must! We will!" Eulalia said with finality, her assertive (or possibly aggressive) personality returning. "I won't have my mother commit suicide, I simply won't!" By now, Eulalia was so worked up that she could feel herself shaking,
"Shh, calm down child! We will visit her!" Berenike whispered soothingly. Eulalia calmed down some.
"When?"
"As Joanne said. Right now. Gather some of your things in your tent, but keep it minimal," Berenike instructed.
=Chrysanthe=
Chrysanthe had been hiding herself behind a tent, holding a small basket of berries and nuts she gathered. She overheard Eulalia's, Berenike's, and Joanne's conversation. I should go with them... Maybe for some moral support for Eulalia... She thought as she walked towards them.
=Ambrosia=
A soft whimpering sound could be heard in a small cottage. A woman of thirty-five sat on her make-shift bed (which wasn't really a bed; just some old blankets folded on top of each other) as she contemplated whether to kill herself, and how she should do it. Hang yourself!
No, poison is quicker!
A stab to the heart is the quickest way... Ambrosia clutched her head as demons argued within her head. "Please stop..." She whimpered.
MAKE US! They yelled back at her before laughing maniacally, causing Ambrosia to choke out a sob.
Where did it all go wrong? She thought to herself. She then remembered.
--Flashback--
A young woman, no older than 18, stood on the roof of her family's manor at dusk, hands on her hips, her bright blue eyes overlooking the courtyard and lands with a sense of arrogance. Her long, blood-red hair blew about whenever the wind changed directions. She inhaled the scent of peonies and cherry blossoms, dreaming about the day that she would inherit the rights to her family's manor and riches.
"This, my dear Ambrosia," her father would say when she was small, "is all yours. The manor, the lands, the courtyard, even the peasants will be yours once you are 21." Ambrosia's eyes would sparkle when her father would tell her this.
"Even the peony trees?" She would ask with enthusiasm, for those were her favorite in all the land. Her father would burst out laughing and pat his daughter's head.
"Yes, even the peony trees!" He replied as he gestured toward all the trees that were currently letting go of the pink fairy-like flowers.
Ambrosia smiled as she overlooked the lands. "Mine," she said to herself with a smile. Continuing to look around, she thought that she could see a shadown near the barrier wall of the courtyard. Her eyes narrowed and she almost called for the guards, but she refrained from doing so. Becoming curious as to who was intruding in her home, she crouched down on the roof before crawling onto a large statute toward the ground, using some of the climbing plants as ropes to hang onto for support. She landed on her feet as quiet as possible. With the speed of a cheetah and silence of a church mouse, Ambrosia ran towards the shadow. "Halt!" She said in a sharp, but quiet whisper once she was within six feet of what she could tell was a man. The man looked startled and Ambrosia heard the sharp sound of a sword being drawn.
"Come no further," the man said calmly yet threatenly. Ambrosia stood up straight and squinted, trying to see what the man looked like.
"I could say the same to you; you're trespassing on my property," Ambrosia said, smirking as she drew a knife. "Step into what little light is left so that I can see you." The man obeyed, sword drawn, as the dim, orange light of dusk engulfed his features. Ambrosia couldn't help but stare at the man for a moment. Dark, curly hair, forest-green eyes, tall and muscular.
A suitable man for a husband... if he weren't a trespasser, Ambrosia thought with slight disappointment. "You look familiar," she stated as she eyed the man. "Have I met you before?" The man looked at her with slightly curious eyes, lowering his sword slightly.
"Perhaps," he replied, intrigued that the young woman wasn't fleeing and crying bloody-murder that a trespasser was in the courtyard. "Your name?"
"I think it's fair that you give me your name first," Ambrosia said imediately and bluntly. "My home, my rules." The man's eye twitched slightly.
"Fine. My name is Darius," the man said. "Darius Warren." Ambrosia's eyes widened at the man's last name.
"You're of the Warren clan?!" She said incredulously. "And you dare to trespass in my home?!"
"And you must be the young mistress Montague, correct?" The man said somewhat smugly.
"Ambrosia Montague," Ambrosia replied, already running towards Darius with her knife. He easily dodged her sloppy swipes and grabbed her wrists. Unfortuantely, the momentum that Ambrosia had gained from running caused her to barrel into Darius and the latter fell back, Ambrosia falling ontop of him. Darius quickly flipped htem so that he was ontop of Ambrosia, who was about to scream for help.
"Scream, and I'll severe your head off your shoulders," he threatened calmly as he held his other hand to Ambrosia's mouth. Ambrosia would have kicked or hit the man ontop of her, but something other than the sword to her neck told her not move. Darius removed his hand from Ambrosia's mouth.
"Why are you here?" She demanded, glaring at the man. Darius kept the sword to Ambrosia's neck.
"I didn't ask to be here," Darius said quietly. "I'm actually supposed to be kidnapping you." Ambrosia's eyes widened at this. "But I don't want to." Ambrosia glared at Darius.
"What's the catch?"
"There is no catch," Darius stated in confusion. "I'm the only one in my fmaily with a straight head and I don't wish to be at personal war with another family for ridiculous reasons."
"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but you can get off of me any time you like," Ambrosia said with a smirk. "There's no rush, though." Darius couldn't restrain the blush that painted his face as he quickly stood up off of the young girl, dusting himself off as if he had accumulated dirt on his clothes.
--End of Flashback--
The current Ambrosia smiled. Ah, yes. I remember. That was their first meeting. A fluke way of meeting someone, let alone the person you loved.