seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
🕯- A sad memory they would rather forget (any)
Berthold Wachenfeld:“I regret the way I handled my loved ones death. When she died I ran away rather than faced it. I lost myself in battle as it would prevent me from having to truly deal with what had happened.
Looking back on it now however I wish I’d stayed with my family. I know they would have helped me work through it properly”
22: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?23: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?
I done did a dice roll for each question so:
22: Carson Bishop.
He’d make a shopping list. He’s the ‘outlaw’ type but what a lot of people don’t know is that he loves to cook and is quite good at it. If he had spare time, a piece of paper and something to write with he’d more than likely write out a shopping list of what to buy so he can get creative.
23: Berthold Wachenfeld.
He is very ogranised and it’s shown in his daily routine and the way he goes about his ‘profession’ which is being a bodyguard for the most part. If he is currently enaged in his duties he will plot out a timetable for himself that details what will be happening on a given day and how long he’ll be spending doing things. He leaves room for some deviation and tries to plan for the unexpected but his timetable is mostly adhered to.
Homeward Bound
It wasn’t a quiet ride in the Consortium transport. With all of the rattling of cargo and the constant chatter of the Pact members staffing it, Medea was developing a headache that was pushing her past complacency and into irritation. There was, however, a sense of quiet satisfaction that she clung to as a form of comfort. They were returning. After two months of slogging through the jungle, she was bringing her brothers home. Ever since Berthold had agreed to return--his voice had been so toneless... so... devoid of life...--Medea had felt that satisfaction. She was bringing her brothers home, and not to Divinity’s Reach. Although there were clearly matters that needed attention in Kryta, it was no place for the three of them yet. Berthold needed time away from the home he had shared with his woman, time to work through the grief that he’d submerged beneath mindless slaughter. And Josef... Their mother would have to see to Josef. Adjusting her position, Medea looked to her brothers, statues of unemotional obedience. True to his word, Josef had gone along silently when Berthold had risen, gathered his gear and begun working back through the jungle to the Pact camp. Medea had found herself nearly hard-pressed to keep up. Once Berthold decided on something, it was done and there was no fiddling about. They’d made record time, and it had taken only another half day’s hike to reach the departure zone. It was there that she’d dispatched a letter of her own and paid the messenger an additional ten gold to ensure that it reached Gryphonswold as swiftly as possible.
Whatever the Dollmaker was planning had to wait. If there was even a chance that Jacintha could be damaged by her ideas, it would end badly and Medea knew that there was little anyone could do if one of those frail threads holding Josef to humanity was broken. Berthold... She sighed internally, closing her eyes to block out the sight of their blank, pale faces. He would heal. He had to heal. Neither she nor Josef could stand losing Berthold, and part of her wished fervently that someone could be held responsible for the blonde’s death. Vengeance might go a long way towards easing Berthold’s grief, but... How did one avenge oneself against past events? Against an accident that had simply resulted in tragedy? Medea ran a hand over her face and settled again, feeling strangely restless. They needed to reach home. To reach Ambergris Hall. And then, perhaps, they could all begin putting themselves back together.
-uch longer. Perhaps I did not impress upon you the importance of your presence. Do you recall when I told you that the only thing holding her spirit to the living world was you? This means more than that she cares for you beyond rational measure. Her construction was flawed due to the circumstances. Physically she is as perfect as centuries of study can ensure. However, it was a ghost and not a spirit that was bound to that form. That ghost has only you in mind, and without your presence, the bond holding it to the form becomes weak. So weak, in fact, that I was forced to put her into a sleep from which she cannot awaken on her own to prevent discorporation. The stress of the circumstances in which your family has found itself had more drastic effects than I would have believed possible. You will see for yourself if you return home. The choice is ultimately yours, but as she is my creation, I must address these flaws. If you have not answered this letter or returned within a fortnight, I will take steps to eliminate the flaws that have manifested. May Grenth guide your steps. Ayame Kurosawa
Lowering the parchment, the Spider frowned. It was a slight expression, a mere shift of brows and lips, but it gave the impression of a woman holding back a scream. Medea let out a low sigh and folded the letter, tucked it into her jerkin and reached for the next. Over six weeks now in Maguuma, and she was beginning to fear for the remaining sanity of both brothers. Berthold had spoken perhaps six words since their arrival, and Josef... He was turning into something she didn’t recognize as her brother. Mrs. Pierce’s letter was no more comforting than the Dollmaker’s. Although the household in Divinity’s Reach was proceeding as normal, the twins were often absent, seeking their own diversions. The room that had been Berthold and Chessi’s had been cleaned and stripped of all reminders of the dead woman. Those were now stored against the hope of healed grief, and the one who had intended to sort through the blonde’s effects was now a motionless thing, bound into a necromantic sleep to preserve what sanity she also had left.
Sanity. It was a rare thing in their family, and quickly becoming even more scarce. Medea herself felt a few cogs slipping the longer she was following her brothers. At times, it was... easier to simply regress into a mindless automaton that slaughtered Mordrem, cleared the paths and scouted the canopy while Josef handled the lower levels of the jungle. One hand strayed back and brushed the tattered strip of orange leather that bound her hair. Did they not all have reason to return to civilization? Josef had a wife. She had hopes to see fulfilled. Berthold... He still had his family. There was love awaiting him if he would only come back to them to find it. Medea didn’t believe the Six so cruel as to take away the first woman Berthold had loved only to leave him alone for the rest of his life. Surely there was another that would ease his loneliness and make him smile again. ...but it would never come to fruition if they remained here. If they lost themselves in an endless sea of foliage and aggressors. Medea was eccentric but not flighty. There was a core of stability in her that she called upon when events threw everything into chaos, and it was that she drew on now. First, she would speak to Josef. Remind him that he was more than just a blade in the dark. That there was reason to live, not merely take lives. And then she would attend Berthold. Josef would not do it; of all their siblings, Berthold was the most imposing and had a measure of fatherly pull on Josef. There would be no strike from one brother to the other. Medea would have to tend to that herself, and she examined the narrow vials sewn into her coat as she handed the last letter to Anjeka. Her family clearly wasn’t going to come to its senses without help, but the Spider was nothing if not persuasive and resourceful.
Now I get to tell everyone in Blackclaw that I’m getting married!
...I wonder if Cerise would be a flower girl for me...
“No, really! I can get up, see?”
“Chessi, get back in bed.”
“But it’s been over a week now! Yana said I’m fine!”
“Chessi, I said get back in bed.”
“...can I at least have my MMT back now?”
“No, Sunshine. I’ll bring you another book. Or do you want Tragen? I can bring him in for you.”
“I don’t want another book. Can’t I go to the courtyard?”
“If you want your namesake, I’ll carry you to the chair by the window.”
“I can walk there.”
“Chessi, get back in bed.”
“When can I get up then? I haven’t hardly walked at all for days!”
“Soon, Sunshine. Here, this is a book you haven’t read yet. And I’ll bring you a tray. Hot chocolate sound all right?”
“Yeah. That sounds okay, thank you.”
“Don’t pout, Sunshine. You’ll be able to move around soon enough. I’ll carry you over to your chair and I’ll even bring Tragen in to sit at your feet. Now just stay put and I’ll be right back with everything you need.”
