A Little Peace, A Little Chaos

[Ellimairy]

​

With the recent events of the mist, attacks on their motherland and an uncertain future ahead of them, the Ithanian district wasn't it's normal self. Citizens worried, and in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed, yet little was spoken, most minds broken.

Yet this evening, a few neighbours gathered in front of the damaged estate right in the centre of their community. Normally largerly ignored for it's un-Ithanian design, however tonight candles danced in the windows and the gate was pushed open. The beautifull sounds of music slowly began to fill the streets, drawing most out to see what was producing this lovely sound.

The sound of music, so pure it would bring the hills alive. And where normally Ithanians danced and laughed, jokeing togehter with the music in the background- the music had the full attention. More and more gathered on the ground floor of the old estate, normally filled with boxes, the room was cleared to accomodate the neighbours.

All those gathered dressed to the nine's, listening, nothing more.

And as spontaneous the gathering had started, so did it end, as the violinist and pianist played their final note, they moved out. Unsure who performed for them, but gratefull nonetheless, everybody found their way back home.

In this time of chaos, a little peace was a welcome distraction.

((I did totally not jam some lyrics in there.))​

 

[Reaganism]

A middle-aged lady sat upstairs in one of the Ithanian District estates. She settled her quill as she heard the vails and cries on the streets turn into an unnatural, unprecedented window of joy and pause from the recent horrors. At first, she merely grabbed her daughter's hand and stood outside on her balcony to overlook the Ithanians and their frivolous celebration amidst the chaos.

Charlotte was no Ithanian, neither did she harbour any contempt or empathy towards their homeland. Her single and only ever interaction with the Hivrois court ended on negative terms, her imperialist stance preferred over a bribe of lands and support against her former husband.

She still lived in the same district. She never let go. She lived under two and four as a Ravenstad, under six and seven as a Moselberg and now under nine, where she used to live as a Walerius. She did not spend these years amongst Ithanians either: next to the Valors and du Polignacs there were Cerdici, Heinrich, Cauthin, Lothlann, de Baccarod and many more. And as she gazed at the Ithanians waltzing past the entrance to No. 7, her eyes panned up at the mansion's glass roof under which the lily cross was born.

She tugged to pull on her pair of white gloves, equipped her gold-trimmed military coat and wrapped her Calemberger fox fur around her shoulders. She walked down to join the crowd where she was offered wine and pastries (amidst some looks at the expensive piece of Typhonus wear), and a joyous company many craved these times. And when the procession finally pushed into the abandoned mansion, the lady settled herself comfortably by the grand piano within and played along to the other musicians.

 

[soapboxstage]

the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed, yet little was spoken, most minds broken.

Click to shrink...

Damn you...

 

[HeyitsNano]

Mmn.