Johanna Haaven sat inside of her room within the Haaven country-side Estate, carefully surveying herself in front of the room's intricate mirror. She sat forward in her chair, thus causing the cyan cushions to shift with her weight; weight that she believed to be too much, yet not enough. With a growing frown, she slowly leaned back in her chair to resume the cushion's previous position. With just a single glance, the Haaven found many flaws: fading hair dye, a rebel curl, scars, uneven piercings, an imperfect posture, belly fat, thunder thighs... She was very clearly, noticeably so, naive to the fact that nobody else noticed the flaws she loathed, thus her thoughts continued.
A huff escaped the woman's lips before she stood with a soft stumble after the last couple of hours of picking herself apart in attempts to put herself back together in impossible combinations. She thought of the women whom she believed had the perfect bodies, minds, perceptions, and riches along with how they misused and took advantage of such blessings. The noble women who were able to afford the best tailors in Aloria to flatter their body types, or the ones to afford artists to showcase their beauty for as long as a painting survived inevitable weathering. Perhaps even the ones who had men kneeling at the thresholds of their manors, begging for their hand in marriage; the ones asking for eternal love and discontinued longing as they finally succeeded in getting what they wished. She thought not of the consequences for having such benefits and supposed blessings, but rather of the acceptance she'd possess if she had just a pair of the things she'd seen other women in Regalia claim. If she had an artist at her whim or perhaps a tailor with unlimited supplies to match her unlimited coin, she'd attract more admirable men than the rubble normally fluttering about her like flies to honey.
Alas, she was awoken from her thoughts of what she could and would have had, or should have or could have, want or wish, by the sounds of her twin boys stirring in their sleep, ultimately beginning to emit cries from the kaffee colored cribs. She stared for a long moment to ponder what her life had become in Regalia, to have thoughts sweep through her mind swiftly as if she had been watching the pages of a book flip rapidly until she finally reached the back cover.
She had become Director of Medicine at the Alchemia Order Apothecary and Clinic, a guard for the Howlester family and Vigilant Shield, a mother, a Haaven, and a friend to many. She was content with what she had succeeded in and would be continuously content with what was to come for her. She didn't have the riches or the fame of what a noble woman would have, but she was okay with it. She was fine with being a single mother to two beautiful children who would serve the Empire the same as her one day, who would be raised in a Unionist house hold with far more than needed to survive, to be spoiled even. Despite her own lack of self love, she came to accept that it was her life, her body, and her mind. She accepted every bit.
Standing from her chair, the woman stepped towards the dresser and collected multiple stuffed animals before turning and gliding to the crib, where she'd start her day by seeing her children.
A huff escaped the woman's lips before she stood with a soft stumble after the last couple of hours of picking herself apart in attempts to put herself back together in impossible combinations. She thought of the women whom she believed had the perfect bodies, minds, perceptions, and riches along with how they misused and took advantage of such blessings. The noble women who were able to afford the best tailors in Aloria to flatter their body types, or the ones to afford artists to showcase their beauty for as long as a painting survived inevitable weathering. Perhaps even the ones who had men kneeling at the thresholds of their manors, begging for their hand in marriage; the ones asking for eternal love and discontinued longing as they finally succeeded in getting what they wished. She thought not of the consequences for having such benefits and supposed blessings, but rather of the acceptance she'd possess if she had just a pair of the things she'd seen other women in Regalia claim. If she had an artist at her whim or perhaps a tailor with unlimited supplies to match her unlimited coin, she'd attract more admirable men than the rubble normally fluttering about her like flies to honey.
Alas, she was awoken from her thoughts of what she could and would have had, or should have or could have, want or wish, by the sounds of her twin boys stirring in their sleep, ultimately beginning to emit cries from the kaffee colored cribs. She stared for a long moment to ponder what her life had become in Regalia, to have thoughts sweep through her mind swiftly as if she had been watching the pages of a book flip rapidly until she finally reached the back cover.
She had become Director of Medicine at the Alchemia Order Apothecary and Clinic, a guard for the Howlester family and Vigilant Shield, a mother, a Haaven, and a friend to many. She was content with what she had succeeded in and would be continuously content with what was to come for her. She didn't have the riches or the fame of what a noble woman would have, but she was okay with it. She was fine with being a single mother to two beautiful children who would serve the Empire the same as her one day, who would be raised in a Unionist house hold with far more than needed to survive, to be spoiled even. Despite her own lack of self love, she came to accept that it was her life, her body, and her mind. She accepted every bit.
Standing from her chair, the woman stepped towards the dresser and collected multiple stuffed animals before turning and gliding to the crib, where she'd start her day by seeing her children.
