-- α ƒrαgιlє єxιѕтєηcє.

{ wing·less; } english, adj. having no wings or vestigial wings. indie elisabeth von wettin rp; mutiverse. tracking: #heiligings.

[heiligings-blog]

ooc; Multitasking + nausea + pills = throwing myself down a well, goodbye friends-- }

[her-feelings-were-in-vain]

As she awaits the child’s long anticipated answer, she begins to put away the last of the herbs into storage. There were still a few more things that needed to be done, actually, before the days ends. For instance to sweep her home and rid of any pesky dust bunnies lurking underneath the little furniture she owns. 

Her attention then focuses on the noble girl once more now. Her eyes were wide because never did she think she’d thank her for this. At the time, Elisabeth had been quite young, perhaps two or three years of age at the time. She couldn’t of remembered that, did she? Lest her parents have told her about what had been done accidentally.

"…Ah."

"You are correct, dear I had."

She approaches Elisabeth now, and comes near the table that she sat at. The memory was hazy now, but she recalled it. A woman dressed strangely accompanied by a servant by horse back; it was raining that night. Therese now lowers her head as she muses briefly about that night, the child and the revival. At first she had doubted her own abilities nevertheless Elisabeth had pulled through. 

"I’m pleasantly surprised to know that you’ve grown to become such a pretty young lady. Elisabeth." 

[heiligings-blog]

So she had been right. Although she had been taught not to eavesdrop on conversations between adults, she couldn't help but overhear just one concerning her-- and well, Elisabeth being curious, she merely decided to listen. It was then that she found out this woman saved her... This woman had somehow brought her to life. If it weren't for her, she wouldn't be here right now. She would have never met her friend...! And so, the young girl smiles widely; eyes glimmering with mere admiration towards Therese, hands clasping together. It seems the von Ludowings were meant to change her life in a drastic way; it also seems she would get attached to them as well. "Thank God..." "I am glad it was you." She lets out a chiming laugh, the very same she uses when around März. The very same one reserved for when she was around people she could be herself with, not the fake one she used when having to be, well... a princess. Elisabeth plays with one of her loose strands of hair, twirling it absentmindedly as she lets out an, "eh?" "I... Thank you, Miss. You're quite beautiful yourself, if I may say!"

[friendshipstates]

Your character has just discovered my character's journal/diary.

Leave a  ☱ in my askbox for an entry that’s about you.

[heiligings-blog]

"... I dislike getting sick."

[heiligings-blog]

ooc; Never mind, I'll be leaving now-- though I will reply to those I owe tomorrow. Those damned pills make me sleepy, and they won't let me think nor be creative! ... See you. }

[prinzessinrosen]

The statue’s reactions were surprisingly positive, it was wonderful how it was acting warmer and warmer, although she could understand how the saint was a bit cold in a first moment.

A simply word it was needed to listen the emotion in her voice, it was like the statue was coming to live, just like when a rosebud blossoms.

In that moment, the princess caressed the statue’s cheek. “You are welcome, beautiful saint." 

"Yes, I am sure. Then I’ll tell mine after yours, since I asked first."

Her tone voice was a bit childish.

[heiligings-blog]

The statue had never been lifeless. Merely dormant, waiting for someone adequate enough to accompany her. Cold, she could be at first glance; she had adopted that personality soon after her beloved died, around the time princes would arrive to court her. Yet, her warmth was only brought upon by the young girl's own. It was some sort of sibling bond-- was that what her elder brother felt with her once? It could have been, though she never knew.  Smile widening at her kind gesture, she leans her head into the caress; perhaps wanting to feel some sort of human warmth once more. "I suppose I should pay such kindness with a narration, then..." "Alright. Although it is quite long, so if you ever feel tired... you may sit down if you like." Elisabeth didn't want her visitor to leave, after all.

[as-salam-al-malakiyy-deactivate]

Attack my Askbox

♔: Three facts that people might not realize or know about your character

☢: Three headcanons that pertain to your character

❆: Three OOC facts about the Writer 

♕: Three different quirks the character has

☎: Three different people you’d like your character to interact with (canon or pandfandom)  ▦: Three different scenarios you’d like your character to participate in

✦: Three different things that remind the writer of the character

❖: Three things that the character likes

✘: Three different things the character disapproves of

[heiligings-blog]

ooc; I just thought of something more feelsy for the part where Elisabeth disappears. }

[prinzessinrosen]

"Ah!"

The statue not only could talk and move, it felt too; the princess opened her eyes in amusement. Although she knew the existence of magic, she never had an encounter like this one before.

Actually, she never thought things would change drastically in one hundred years, the world seemed to her the same as before being asleep.

"If you’ve been alone for a long time, I guess you have a lot of things you want to talk about. Actually, we can be friends… If you want, of course."

The princess smiled happily.

"So what’s your story, crucified saint? I would like to hear it."

[heiligings-blog]

It was amusing to see her surprise at the statue's chuckle. Truly she had been just as hidden from reality outside her surroundings as long as she did... The maiden smiles warmly at the young girl, wishing she could at least move her arms to gently pat her head-- she was taking a liking to her already, as they had quite similar experiences.  "Friends?" That word, however, somewhat excited her almost as much as it did back then. "It's been a long time since I had a friend... I would love that. Thank you, dear Fräulein." After all, it was meaningful for her to have a friend even now, since she had never had any friends before. The other princess tilts her head, pondering whether or not to narrate her tale. Talking about herself was odd-- she did not do it much, after what had happened last time she did. "-- Are you sure?" she asked. "I'd love to hear your story as well, you know..."

[corpseductorr]

The tale concluded, her director indulges in a brief interlude (again, nothing short of standard procedure). No wonder she’s a saint, it’s noted: if ever there were the epitome of virtue, it would surely be her ─ and that even he, the sinner that he is, is able to recognise so much must certainly count for something.

Anyway.

“Once more, she’s killed by her guardian…" (How ghastly a pattern.) “I see. So that’s how you were crucified: by disobeying somebody with whom you were meant to entrust your life, ironically." Certainly, the irony isn’t lost on him, for the moment immediately succeeding his remark do the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips ─ just the beginnings. “I confess, you did well in following your own will until the very end, selfish though it perhaps is. Would he, however, really have wished for that at the cost of your own life?"

A light teasing: something not uncommon in these commentaries of his. As ever, nothing is meant by it, and he’s not to know his rhetoric may serve as a test of sorts, just as her had ─ it’s a throwaway comment, and nothing more.

But there’s something particularly delicious about the notion of a saint - of all people - appealing for revenge. Indeed, something similar can be said about even a sister expressing her desire for vengeance, but a saint… He can’t help but relish the thought, as the grotesque (yet somehow still charming) smile which momentarily spreads across his face suggests. This isn’t even the end of it, for, during this brief pause, he seems to feel damn well certain that Elise - ever well-behaved during these engagements - is of the same opinion as him; a quick glance to side of him, however, supposes the opposite to be true ─ not only does she fail to share the glimmer of a smile, but she apparently fails to acknowledge him altogether, her attention curiously trained on the saint herself instead.

…The matter’s dismissed, then, and the smile drops from his face as to be replaced by something suitably more polite and lesser in size: an apology for the slight delay, as attested to by his words.

"Whatever ─ I’ve digressed enough.”

That ready stance is assumed, his hands poised in the air, and the cue for her grand début - ‘now, let the revenge tragedy begin—!’ - spoken loudly once more. It’s a shame, really: were he aware this was going to be the last time he assumes that stance and speaks those words, he’d have felt inclined to deviate from the usual routine somewhat. To make this one special somehow.

What use are predictable finales, after all?

[heiligings-blog]

She does not know if it's the chill his words bring upon her, or the distinct undertone of expected delight lacing his words-- he was completely relishing the fact that a saint would probably accept his proposal, and he did not seem to think that there would be a denial any time soon. While Elisabeth did not enjoy breaking anyone's hope, she knew revenge would blind her more, would harm many others than just herself if she chose to accept it.  There was nothing to avenge anyway. She had died for him, she had finally encountered him again, and that was more than enough for her. She opens her mouth-- breath hitching, voice trembling, and says; "... No." If this reign of tragedies could be stopped, she herself would stop it, she decided; feeling her mask loosen ever so slightly. An effect of her unwillingness, though what was Elisabeth if not unwilling to betray her ideals? If it meant cutting their meeting short for the sake of others, she would gladly do so. If it meant never seeing him again... she would still do so, no matter how much it hurt her. "I do not wish to take any revenge. -- Everyone has their own circumstances and destiny to bear, and that is something I am not worthy of tampering with." A smile creeps on her features, as her mask seems to be molting, red and black feathers falling one by one. "You came to see me," she says. "That in itself is worth more than anything to me." The maiden closes her eyes, knowing that she would need a moment to collect herself; to retain her feelings before glancing at him one more time, if not, one last time. One last time... Could it be this was their last meeting? All other actresses -upon revenge- had gone off to live once more, some as actual humans, some as wandering corpses such as himself. What would become of her in the end? Would she ever see him again? At what cost-- would she? Symbol of joy fading once more, she dares ask him one thing.  -- "Do you really not remember? Those days..." 'Those days that seem so bright even now,' Elisabeth mused and almost spoke, yet the lump in her throat would not let her. Did he remember? The first time they went out exploring together. The time they found those beautiful roses at their feet; his enthusiasm to place one on his hair, her desire for it to look nice on her (and he would always say it did, if only to make her happy). The way they would both hold the other's hand for dear life, and how they would both read stories next to the forest's well. ... The way they both childishly promised they would meet again, and how they departed with a single kiss.  Everything that happened, that brought them to this moment, is all remembered by her-- and if only, by him as well. By now, her mask has completely molted, leaving red and black feathers in its midst; green eyes open to see a shadow of what once was, and she laughs. A melancholic laugh, a mirthful laugh, chiming and resounding through the empty church, is the melodic opening to her statement. "März, even after all that has happened, you kept your promise to the very end." 

[heiligings-blog]

Hello, and my apologies for my inactivity! ... The computer I was using seems to be damaged somewhat, and now I'm... icon-less. }

[heiligings-blog]

.03

The reason why her brother chose crucifixion as her execution is because the position reminded him of a bird; the arms being its spread wings, the legs of the person being its tail. However, no matter how much the bird spread its wings, it could never fly, being restrained by ropes or even nails. -- And we all know what Elisabeth compared herself to...

[prinzessinrosen]

The princess saw the talking a moving statue, it caught her attention, so she walked near to it and poked its cheek. She was curious, although that curiosity was the main reason of why she slept for 100 years, she couldn’t help but touch the crucified lady.

"How…?" 

She tried to find a reason, it isn’t common to talk with a statue.

"So if you don’t get visitors often, don’t you feel sad?" As for the question, she needed to find a good reply, after all she was in that church by accident. “I guess I came to visit you, a beautiful lady can’t be by herself".

She smiled gently.

[heiligings-blog]

The crucified maiden lets out a chuckle as the young girl poked her cheek; she could understand her curiosity. Being enclosed from the world had that effect on you.  "They seem to think of me as a saint." Like the young violinist that approached her some time ago; what was of him now? A free man, of course. A melodious one at that, perhaps playing his compositions at a nearby village.  "I don't actually do... I'm quite used to being alone. Though company is not unwelcome." A pause. "Most of them stumble upon this church like you did-- not many know where in this forest this sacred place is-- and few come because they've heard the story... " She smiles faintly.

[corpseductorr]

Now that the orchestrator has been given some insight into the prologue of this one’s tragedy, the itching sensation of… - what? - familiarity, basically, not only returns, but grows more difficult to ignore ─ only fractionally so, mm, though it’s become more prevalent nonetheless.

Much as he’d rather approach this case as he had those before it, thus acting as naught but a fundamentally disinterested overseer of her recital, the motifs she weaves into her song (and really rather skilfully, at that ─ he’s always particularly admired the Actresses’ ability to do so seamlessly) are— distracting, in a word. It’s not her fault, certainly, for he’s much under the impression that she’s not to know how her words would poke and prod at him in this way. What she details here hark back to the prologue he himself had witnessed several years ago: that doomed love story, namely. It wouldn’t be too great a stretch of imagination to liken the saint to a dove, for they both have a distinct purity about them; again, there’s reference to moonlight.

—Goodness, this isn’t that von Wettin girl from an age ago, is it? How far she’s come since then.

…Alas, the test of memory expressly posed to him yields no result ─ not of the sort she’s been hoping for, in any case. In fact, his complete lack of reaction is likely to be the last response (if such an absence can even be considered a response) she’s wishing for: at best, there’s a moment’s reflection on her rhetoric, a fleeting thought questioning her seemingly personal, more involved approach here - he’s the impartial third party here, after all -, but this isn’t manifested in no second faint furrowing of his brow, no pensive purse of his lips. Nothing.

By all means, he’s far keener to have her conclude the sharing of her tale in good time. This preliminary performance is a necessity, yes, and should be relished in and of its own right:, but as he is now, he simply has more of a vested interest in what’s to follow.

And even if expectations (at least on his end) are to be left unfulfilled by the end of this encounter in reality, the peculiar thing is that the time when he comes to offer what he’s here to offer is something he, too, waits for in earnest ─ yet their individual reasons arguably couldn’t be any greater a pair of opposites; where he anticipates acceptance of the proposal - as seen several times prior -, she’s not only set, but resolutely so on declining to succumb to that natural human hunger for retribution for whomever has wronged her.

As it has done in the past (and will do so in the future), however, what’s to unfold will provide - for him - a disappointing finale in the short-term, but a vastly satisfying finale in the longer-term.

[heiligings-blog]

His lack of an answer was severely disappointing, yet not unexpected. Elisabeth deems it as motivation instead; as if he were prompting her to finish her story, to finish her performance. As she knows, everything comes to an end... yet she really wants for it to last forever. She wants this moment to last, even if it means being blinded and restrained for eternity, if it means hearing his voice and being with him one more time.  "Along with her cruel, eternal daylight, an undesired marriage arrived..."  Eloquent as she was, she did not know how to continue it. It was all merely improvisation, and she wonders how the other six were so fluent with their events back then. "The dove, madly enamoured with the moonlight, rejected the Sun's proposals--" The tempo seemed to increase only slightly, and she wonders if his hunger for revenge brought this on his melody.  "Enraged by her unwillingness, her guardian decided to kill her..." Her voice fades, and unseen to all, she closes her eyes. "Willing to die with the truth, that she would love him and only him, she was crucified." 

Her story then ran its course from mouth to mouth, being known in all Saxony. Some agreed with her death-- some thought of her a s stupid-- others saw it as a romantic tale of forbidden love. As all stories, some have adapted it to their liking; yet the one she narrated was her own account of what actually happened, of what she had experienced in that time span.

To this day, she still didn't quite see why her story was so interesting; most others would think the same if their story traveled unexpected horizons. Although she was quite thankful it did, in a way. It was the knowledge of those occurrences that aided her in arriving to this moment. 

This... somewhat dreaded moment. She knows what is coming next; she knows she could not avoid it either. The actress takes a deep breath as if easing herself, preparing herself for his repetitive offer of revenge-- and for once in her life she feels as though she doesn't want to hear him speak. 

[prinzessinrosen]

It was a cold night, but it wasn’t an ordinary night, that day her desire for revenge finally was heard.

She listened to the other actresses, such terrible stories. After her act, she decided to walk around and that’s how she visited that lonely church.

The princess looked around, indeed, it was a cold but nice place. Then she heard a female voice, it surprised her, she thought she was alone.

That statue… It was beautiful, a crucified young lady, she looked like a goddess.

"Ah… Pretty good, that person got what she deserved… How about you? Why are you so lonely?"

Rose Princess replied, although she thought it was only her imagination.

[heiligings-blog]

Ah, her vengeful confession merely confirmed her assumptions. Not that it should matter to her whether or not they finished his melodies. She had gotten used to them, after all; it had been five revenge tragedies, five distinct symphonies resounding through the graveyard and faintly being heard from the church. Sound travels various horizons, after all...  "Lonely?" She tilts her head carefully; her position wasn't all that comfortable enough for her to move freely. "I'm not lonely." A pause. "I just do not have much visitors often. You are the first in days. Perhaps even weeks-- I really do lose track of time often, actually." And how could she not? To state specifics when it came to time was hard for her in that state, after all. "Tell me, what brings you here?"

[prinzessinrosen]

heiligings started following you

Guten Abend!

[heiligings-blog]

Guten abend, fräulein! How are you faring on this lovely evening?

[heiligings-blog]

sleeping-rose-princess

A fellow actress, she assumes. No one would dare wander around the graveyard at this hour-- such a late hour-- only to wander into a church. She remembers hearing about her before her death. She also remembers hearing her voice faintly from her grave, after having been encountered by the oh-so-waited, self-proclaimed 'corpseductor'. Elisabeth can merely glance at her in her current position (not that she could do anything about it; she was a statue, after all) as she noted the church's features, merely waiting until she noticed her presence as the centerpiece of this sacred place.  "... Welcome, fräulein."