The flickering firelight's glow illuminated the musty, perfume-scented room and its two inhabitants. A child was asleep upstairs in her bedroom, tucked away so lovingly with a stuffed lamb and a glass of water on the happily painted bedside table.
Snow was gingerly flaking downwards from the heavens, as far as a certain strikingly dwarfy-proportioned woman could see past her pinkish curtained windows. Her kitten, given to her by Catalina de Grizio, rested its orange head on her knee as she re-folded, delicately, a piece of old and inky paper to slide back into its given spot. The words she had just read were written to her at a time when her decisions had gotten more impulsive and chaotic, and they didn't exactly flatter her. No, those were words of disappointment and rejection. Dainty, feminine fingers with polished nails stroked the feline's head, then.
Letters upon yellowed letters in an open box, some from a previous husband and some from her grandparents, most from friends far and near, anywhere from threats to loveletters to annual yearly letters sent and received every January. Anything truly meaningful to the woman that had been written, as well as her occasional unsent responses, filled with passion, that she toiled over writing, rested there in the wooden box. The key and lock were taken off and set nearby a burning candle.
"D'you suppose, Tim." Came a soft whisper from the woman, an odd accent tinting her speech that didn't hail from anywhere in particular aside from maybe some brain damage in her youth.
"That maybe," She continued to muse, scratching her cat's shoulder affectionately, "Adelaide will accept me as a mother sooner rather than later? Or is that far too hopeful of me?"
The feline yawned lazily and rolled onto its back, then promptly settled in her side. Amelia emitted a warm chuckle, though it was weighed with the emotion of the day. "I can't help but b-...be a little impatient."
Perhaps she stayed indoors too much. Perhaps she drank too much. Perhaps she partied too much. Perhaps she was just simply not enough for herself, and assumed the same out of others. It was less of a physical thing and far more of a deep, looming guilt over every bad decision that was piling up in the corner, every bad decision and evil deed that she tried to cast a thick quilt over to keep from meeting daylight.
As we know, daylight reveals all.
The letters said anything from her bad qualities to making up something grand about her. She remembered every emotion she felt when reading them at every moment she received them. Happy, sad, scared, angry, loved and loving- She had felt it all at one point or another, though it all felt overwhelming when it all seemed to happen at once, much like the events that had occured only recently in the past.
Nobody needed to know.
She tugged a soft, pink-stained blanket that had long been settled on the cool, wooden floor up to cover her delicate, nightgown clad self. Regret once again resurfaced and caused her gut to feel like the core of an old apple: Rotten. She eyed the bedroom door from where she sat where the little girl was fast asleep, plucking Tim up to rest on her chest after settling into the blanket on the friendly flower-patterned sofa. Her jaw locked as she tried to refrain from breaking down on the outside as much as she was on the inside, crumbling into utter despair once again.
"I-It's not bad of me to have hope, it's n...not bad for anyone to have hope. And," She finally mumbled, her brows knitting inwards as warm, fat tears stung her eyes, "Every...Everyone deserves some kind of love, from...animals to…" No knife piercing her flesh could hurt as much as the blade impaling her heart. "I've gotta...stick to that one. Mh, mh, it's all alright. It's okay. We're fine, aren't-- Aren't we, Tim?"
Though her emotions didn't settle down or leave her alone, it wasn't terribly long before the night did, and as the candle burned out, the fireplace grew dim- Darkness surrounded her and her vibrantly colored, unique household, and the woman began to fall asleep, tears still only just brimming on her blonde eyelashes.
OOC: I wanted to explore Amelia's inner thoughts about the past and kind of write them down in an organized way. It reflects on life and emotions harder to rp out than expected, but still things that maybe some may want to know about the character's complexity, even if vaguely so. This is the first Lore Story I've ever bothered to do anything with, but I feel it's worthy to be judged. Please enjoy.
@zuola @GamingLeopurred
