The sky was high and pale with early morning light, the heat of the day a promise that hung in the air, not yet fulfilled. The stone steps still radiated the warmth of the previous dayâs sunlight, not yet disbursed.Â
Marion breathed deeply, thankful for the momentâs reprieve from the oppressive and ever present gaze of the sun. The muggy early August heat of Somerset and London were a different experience than the dry burn of Portugalâs summer. Here the air grew thin where the sunlight cut through it, and filled with the cries of strange birds, rather than thick with moisture undercut by bullfrogs complaints.Â
It was a different world, she thought. Unlike what she had imagined for herself, in many ways. The unfamiliar climate one of many strange bedfellows she found herself acclimating to in this age. Footsteps behind her broke her reverie, and she started with a catlike quickness.Â
âPardon, I assumed I was the only one foolish enough to abandon their bed at this hour of the morning. Well, myself and the milkmaids.â She laughed lightly, turning on her heel to greet the surprise compatriot.Â
Marion Nevilleâ â€â¶ EUROPE, 1458. thanks is given by the DUCHESS OF YORK, MARION NEVILLE, from ENGLAND. they are at best VISIONARY, and at their worst DISTRUSTFUL. whilst abroad, their ambition is to FURTHER THE INTEREST OF HER FAMILY & REPUTATION VIA PATRONIZATION OF THE CHURCH & ARTS. She seems to remind everyone of REBECCA FERGUSON & The eternal gaze of saints carved from stone, A poisoned cup lifted to laughing lips, & Sunlight spilling through stained glass windows. â penned by Ellen; EST, She/Her, 25.
» the duchess of york is a seymour by birth and the daughter of the earl of somerset. a noted beauty at court, intelligent and on the make, she was once as close as sisters with the queen, fastened to her hip during her rise to the top. but, at her husbandâs behest, she took the king to bed to stay his wavering interests. her kinship with the queen has soured since, though her courtly leverage, and indeed total standing, has improved a thousandfold.
FULL NAME : Marion Christiana (neeâ Seymour) Neville
RECOGNISABLE FEATURES : Small nose, bright blue eyes, long blonde hair
REPUTATION : She has a reputation for intelligence amongst women, although her husbandâs reputation often precedes her. Her own reputation is tied closely to her devout patronage of the church, and largely keeps her above repute, despite her indulgences in the finer things court has to offer.
WANTED CONNECTIONS : -
History: The Seymour house was ruled by James Seymour, a cruel and powerful man who encouraged his children to compete with one another, not only for his love, but for their right to bear his name. The youngest of six brothers, only three of which would live to see adulthood, Marion quickly learned that survival was that of the fittest. Alliances were made and broken over afternoon tea, and duels declared over dinner. Attempts on her parentâs lives by brotherâs eager for their inheritance were not uncommon, and were mostly met with encouragement to do better in future when thwarted.
Her motherâs baby in every sense of the word, Marion found refuge in her arms until her eleventh birthday when she succumbed to a fever. It was at that point that her father decided the pretty young girl was as powerful a weapon as he had yet possessed. Drunken business partners and overfed cardinals tended to ignore the flaxen haired child in the corner, and their loosened lips and belts left her with every chance to glean the information, or documents, that her father required.
It was thus that she didnât arrive at court until the late age of twenty, when her usefulness as doe eyed innocent had expired. Thoroughly exhausted of her fatherâs demands, and ill prepared for the demands of court, she attached herself to the first kind maternal figure to offer themselves to survive the new and unfamiliar landscape.
Personality:
- Perceptive: As a child her tutors feared at first she might be dull, for her placid stare and silent acquiescence belied no greater understanding of her lessons than what she repeated back to them. Yet it was this same cool demeanor that she wore when her eldest brother first attempted to kill her father. It was only in the aftermath that the notebook carefully written in her hand, detailing their fatherâs daily schedule, was found amongst his possessions. Marion has always seen everything about her, careful observance and understanding placed above intervention. There will always be those willing to act, but those who watch are seldom in as much danger, and frequently advantaged.
- Manipulative: It developed as a necessity, a function of survival in her spiderâs web of a home. Yet she was aware even then that she was good at it. With her mother it meant widening her eyes and letting the light pool in them with innocence apparent. With her father it meant promising that whatever he gave her would come back to him twofold. She was good at discerning what people wanted her to be, and so she learned to promise them that was exactly what she was.
- Passionate: Her weakness has always been the great extent to which she felt every emotion. Whether it was the fever with which she resented, or the terrible ache with which she loved, or the vehemence with which she professed her heart. Her motherâs âlittle furyâ she kept all things hidden inside her, and there they became brightly burning fire in her breast.
Court Life/Goals: Upon taking the name Neville, Marion gladly took allegiance to her new family with it. To no longer be Lady Seymour meant freedom from her fatherâs seemingly depthless greed. Yet the name Seymour opened doors within the Vatican, contacts that she carefully maintains to this day. It certainly helps her husbandâs rather rough reputation that she is a paragon of piety and culture. Much of her time is spent in artistic circles, and she happily moves amongst them, patron to the artists faithful to the church, and listener to the minds moving both for and against the theologians writing and railing into the ever changing winds of time.
Her status at court has never been better, and the smiles openly offered to her with invitations into private salons and parties are certainly not unwelcome. It grows harder to observe without making moves of her own, yet even as the difficulty of remaining in the shadows increases she begins to wonder, was it so comfortable there against the wall? And is John not correct? Perhaps she would do well to wear a crown.
