Within the Swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Adelina (?) -- Prologue

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TherapyCat:
Spoiler: show
--- Quote ---
"Anyways, Lambert, that is my in-depth synopsis as to why, I believe that I'd rather much be like a sheep like you, able to shed my layers and start anew every season," Adelina remarked as she laid on the stomach of the lamb, staring up at the clouds as they shifted within the barovian sky. She bellied out a heavy sigh.

"I've been writing you know." she monolouged to the animal. "Mama says a shouldn't. That I should be focusing on more valuable life skills- but that is just because-- she thinks I am to end up like her. I'd rather soon croke." she whispered into the ear of the farm animal before cackling. Before she arose with a brief sigh , going to do her actual task at hand, plucking the access wool from the lambs coat.

She sighs wistfully. "There has to be more to life don't you think? Beyond stealing your coat, and eating the same soup for dinner every night? There has to be."

"Oh there certainly is, Mademoiselle." an unfamiliar voice boomed behind her in the distance, a man. Adelina gasped! As she rose to stand, she then accidentally kicked Lambert in the process. Lambert whined and ran through through the gate, that the absent-minded Adelina, had neglectfully left upon prior.

"Look what you've done!' she remarked to the stranger with spite, brows knitted as she darted after the farm creature.

"I simply wished to introduce myself!" the man chased after Adelina,  and the lamb, roaring with laughter at the absurdity of it all.

"You've made quite the introduction!" she quipped with bitter sarcasm, as she they both continued to chase the frighted lamp.

"Come now! I have  not even mentioned my name, Mon amour-- you are making this quite difficult!" He huffed, his hands on his knees, as he attempted to catch his breath.

Adelina eventually did catch the lamb, lifting up it within her arms to hold it, struggling some under it's weight. "Iadul-- lambert what have you been eating." she grumbled, adjusting it.
"...Please, Mademoiselle. Let me help you that, I feel quite terrible about the whole ordeal." The man held out his arms, He stood a good deal taller than Adelina. A good deal older, to. Nearing his twentieth year, while she had just entered her thirteenth.

"...If you must." she regarded him, With curious, but a wary look. As she handed the man the sheep. The sheep baaa'd in defiance to being held by the strange man. It was within this moment, that adeline found herself, alone. Half a mile from home, in the woods with a stranger she had never met.

"....Who are you anyways?" Her eyes narrowed some, frowning.

"My name is Louis Artenie, I am a merchant, a tailor, I seek wool and  I heard word that your family might offer it to  me at a discounted price, if I spoke to them in person. But It seems I was walking in the opposite direction and came from the back of your house. I meant not to frighten you mademoiselle."

"....You didn't frighten me." she stated, instantly dismissing that, as she glanced elsewhere, it was clear he still frightened her.

"...I would never dream of wanting to.." his voice softened as he adjusted the sheep with ease within his grasp.

"Might I have your name?"

"....Adelina"

"Adelina. Quite a beautiful name, it does not suit you. This life here."

Her brows knitted. "...I am quite content with my life. With my name, I am not sure what makes you think you have the liberty to believe otherwise."


"I meant not to offend you." Louis frowned some, as he bobbed his head the way they came. Moving to escort them back home. "It is merely a lovely name, for a lovely girl. A name that should be plastered on the bills of plays, the back of paintings, woven into songs of adoration.." he hummed in thought. Sparing a smile downwards to her.

"...You think I am lovely?" Adelina  paused, bewildered as if that was the first time she had heard anything of that nature said to her within her existence.

"Incomparable." He chimed, genuine.

She smiled then, and only then as she moved to follow him, back to her homestead, she was quiet, reflective for a moment before she spoke again.

"...What about on books?"

"Pardon, Mon Amour?" Louis peered downwards, to her in confusion.

"How Would it look on books, my name?" she proceeded, clearing her throat some.

"Adelina Artenie?" He chimed with a confident smirk. "I think it suits it."

"What-- No I didn't mean to imply, I--." Adelina huffed in frustration. Louis just smiled, his first victory.

--- End quote ---

TherapyCat:
 




Spoiler: show
--- Quote ---Adelina, dear reader, would have me convey that either her beauty or her intellectual depth captivated me. However, neither assertion holds true. Adelina, while not unattractive, paled in comparison to the elegant ladies of the port or the exotic women I encountered during my travels. Her dark, unremarkable hair and lackluster eyes, combined with her diminutive stature, presented a stark contrast to my preference for slender, graceful figures reminiscent of swans. Her physical presence lacked the refinement I typically admire. Regarding her intellect, while she prides herself on it, her intellectual acumen merely surpasses that of the average Barovian. I must acknowledge her propensity for articulation beyond her station, yet given her origins as a farmhand from Barovia, but her attempts at scholarly discourse were often obscured by her thick accent and deliberate, harshly accented speech, which grated against my refined sensibilities.


Notwithstanding, I found Adelina captivating. Her ability to transform ordinary narratives into extraordinary sagas through a lens of delirium was truly compelling. This unique quality, particularly notable to a man of modest means like myself, was truly enchanting. Adelina possessed an extraordinary talent for reframing adversity into moments of elegance and grace. Never once did she lament our financial constraints; instead, she refrained from acknowledging them altogether. In times of scarcity, she would jest, "We are merely refining our silhouettes; fashion does not wait for anyone." If a breach in the ceiling revealed the night sky, she would remark, "How fortunate we are to gaze upon the stars." Even if the scent of another lingered, she would gracefully comment, "Your artistic talents must be in high demand; it is heartening to witness your success." Adelina had a remarkable ability to infuse grandeur into the mundane, simplifying complexities, and beautifying every facet of life. Her sanity was evident in her eyes; she possessed a profound understanding of reality but chose to adorn it with a veneer of allure, making it more palatable, more accessible, and more exquisite.

She reminisces about our initial encounter, much like today's moment. It was not a grand love story, but rather a practical meeting. I sought wool and learned that her father offered it at a reduced rate. Upon arriving, I found a girl with unremarkable hair styled like a milkmaid conversing with a sheep as if it could comprehend complaints. My first reaction was one of pity towards her, not driven by desire or admiration. I wondered if she lacked other companions. When I attempted conversation, the sheep fled, prompting me to chase after both the girl and the animal. To conduct business successfully, I realized it was crucial to address her father without the presence of his daughter and the sheep. Following the sheep's retrieval, we exchanged names. I must confess, I did engage in some light-hearted flirtation with her, out of pity once more. It seemed evident that no man had ever spoken to her in such a manner before. This was hardly surprising given her isolation on that remote farm under her father's dominion. When she shared her aspiration to become a writer, I found the notion fanciful, yet I indulged her fantasy. Witnessing her face brighten with joy was captivating. It was effortless to bring a smile to her face, to earn her admiration. Her simple praise was easily won. In a world where one must strive to stand out, to thrive, this girl required only the most modest of compliments. That was all I sought in a partner. To be easily adored.


So I wrote to her. Since she seemed to like words so goddamn much.

--Louis Artenie 
--- End quote ---
[/i]

TherapyCat:
chapter 2
Spoiler: show
--- Quote ---Weeks had elapsed since their initial encounter, yet each time Adelina pondered Louis, her heart raced as if attempting to escape her chest, only to descend and echo through the wooden floors of her abode. Every detail lingered in her memory: the way her gaze lingered on his lips, the curiosity about their taste—she imagined them akin to honey, mirroring the sweetness woven into every word he spoke.

This fixation often left her distracted, her endeavors marked by absentmindedness. Even the toil of her chores left unnoticed calluses on her hands, so deeply engrossed was she in her infatuation with a man she scarcely knew.
Seated by the window, watching the sun set over the horizon, Adelina overheard her elder sisters' chatter behind her, their words akin to insidious insects.

"Did you notice how she looked at him?" Draguta remarked with disdain.

"A scandalous affair, indeed. Father seemed on the brink of fury," Celestina added, the two girls, barely older than Adelina, sharing a chuckle. Unfazed, Adelina's heart was consumed by love, though she barely comprehended its essence.

Turning to face her sisters, her hair cascading like a velvet curtain, Adelina retorted, "If you must discuss me, dear sisters, either speak in hushed tones to spare me or raise your voices to include me in the discourse."

"As if you have anything substantial to contribute, little lamb," Draguta taunted. "Little lamb," a moniker coined by their mother for Adelina, initially seemingly affectionate but laden with condescension. It signified her perceived need for control, obedience, and conformity beyond her station as a daughter.She would use that phrase when Adelina was being difficult, unruly, or not what she had envisioned for a daughter entirely. To insist that she was a little lamb, would mean that she needed to have her legs gnawed at, to be lead, to be controlled. It was a reminder that a girl of her age and station, should be more obedient, more subservient.

"Do not address me thus," Adelina warned her sister.

"And what will you do? Scribble about us in your diary?" Celestina joined in the mockery.

Adelina was at a loss for words, a rare occurance. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes in frustation as she started stuttering. She always felt too much, all at once. After being poked and proded, she bleed in clear tears that marked her face and fell down unto her brown frock for all to see her pain. They had wounded her.

In that moment, their shared room's door slid open, revealing their father, a formidable figure with scant hair atop his balding head, holding a box fastened with a lilac satin ribbon.
"This is for you, Addie," he gruffly declared. "Don't misconstrue this. Nearly tossed it away, but no sense in squandering good attire."


Adelina rushed to her father, momentarily forgetting her emotional wounds, expressing gratitude with an embrace before eagerly unwrapping the box to reveal a lilac hat adorned with a white goose feather. As she placed it upon her head, a newfound vibrancy filled her life, eliciting envy in her sisters' eyes, a sensation almost palpable. The worry etched on her father's face, mirrored in her reflection, overwhelmed her.
To her delight, nestled within the box was a note from her beloved.

“It is only the start, Mon amour. Love Louis.”

Love Louis. Love Louis. Love Louis.  She read that line over and over and over again. She was a woman who was loved. Her sisters could'nt have that.



--- End quote ---

TherapyCat:


Chapter 3


Spoiler: show
--- Quote ---Thus, she dared to don the hat. Everywhere she went, it perched atop her head, a silent proclamation of her defiance. The judgment in her father's eyes, the sneers of her sisters, even the perplexed bleats of the farm goats - none could sway her. Because, when that hat sat upon her brow, she was reborn. The timid farm girl was no more. In her place stood a charismatic social butterfly, a figure of intrigue, a beacon of sensuality. A woman in full bloom. What a heady sensation it was, to taste such potent femininity, before truly comprehending the weight it bore.


Her most cherished place to don her hat was in the company of the unassuming scarecrow, a silent sentinel amidst the turnip fields of the neighboring farm. The scarecrow, lacking an official name—a concept that would be rather absurd—had been christened by Adelina herself. She called him Baron de Lilas. Lilas, a word that signified 'Lilac' in the somewhat foreign language of Mordentish, beyond the usual pleasantries and affectionate monikers, was the sole word she knew. The role of a baron was beyond her comprehension, as were the implications of his status and authority, yet the title appealed to her. A figure of authority, imbued with color. Yet, in reality, Baron de Lilas was devoid of any color. Constructed from a turnip sack and bestowed with mismatched button eyes of varying sizes, he was a colorless entity. Nevertheless, he served as an apt partner for her dress rehearsals, as good as any.


She had no inkling of dementileuse society, other than the disdain she’d heard from her fellow Barovians. Yet, the prospect of a world filled with light, art, and gastronomy was enough to spark her imagination. Where facts were scarce, she'd weave intricate tales to fill the void. The enigmatic rise of Baron de Lilac to wealth was a mystery she enjoyed playing with, greeting him daily with a playful,

"How fares your enterprise, dear Baron? I trust all is well?" Her smile was impish, her curtsy a touch awkward as she tipped her hat.
She yearned for a partner who'd lavish her with love and attention. So, when he quietly offered her a second imaginary  baguette, she'd flutter her lashes and feign demure coyness, "Oh, Baron de Lilas, I couldn't possibly!" her makeshift fan, a dried wheat stalk, fluttering in her hand.

And when the lambs proved troublesome, she'd eagerly share the day's gossip with her make-believe lover, her voice hushed, her grin wide and mischievous. "She's a woman of questionable morals, truly," she'd whisper, delighting in their shared secret.

She reveled, heart and soul, in this manufactured existence she had spun with her straw man. This was her refuge, an idyllic dreamworld set apart from the grim, relentless grind of reality. Yet, her blissful reverie was frequently punctured by an all-too-real intrusion – the neighbouring boy, Cosmin.

Cosmin was her age. Yet his robust stature, a stark contrast to her delicate frame, belied his years. At thirteen, he towered at almost six feet, his face adorned with the rough beginnings of a beard. His size, however, was inversely proportional to his intellectual prowess. His attempts at conversation were tragically inept, and Adelina found his company more of a chore than a pleasure. Yet, his heart was pure, and he was besotted with her, a fact that did not escape their parents' notice. They had, on numerous occasions, tried to orchestrate a match between Adelina and Cosmin, but Adelina was always able to wriggle out of the awkward arrangement. Her mother would chide her, reminding her that she could do much worse. Adelina knew this to be true. Yet Cosmin, with his down-to-earth manner and simple, earnest devotion, did not align with her romantic ideals. He was not a prince swathed in lilac, bedecked with ribbons and feathers, whispering sweet nothings to her. He was simply there, like a loyal, muddy dog, gazing at her with wide-eyed adoration.

“...Uh.. ’ey Addie,” Cosmin broke the silence, nervously shifting the gardening hoe in his grip as he watched Adelina pirouetting around the scarecrow. Her dance came to an abrupt halt as she registered his presence. She acknowledged him with a curt nod before averting her gaze, the intrusion shattering her dreamlike trance.

“...Hey, Min.” she continued nodding.

“...Watcha doin?” He gestured between the pair, his expression of confsuion genuine.

"...A cultist mating ritual," she voiced, her tone as flat as a tranquil lake. The disdain she felt when Cosmin inquired such inane questions was a bitter pill to swallow. She was entrenched in a dream, was it not evident?

“...That’s not funny, Adelina.” He frowned, a glance over his shoulder.

"I was not jesting," she retorted, her voice steeped in a bitterness that hung heavy in the air.

“..Okay. Well. That’s a little freaky.” He continued to glance around some, so did Adelina.

"Never will I seek your approval for the passions that ignite my soul, Cosmin," she declared, her words echoing like a bold anthem in the silent room.

“...Okay.”

“Okay.” a silence hung in the air for a long moment, before cosmin attempted again.

“...I think you look right pretty in that hat.” He smiled softly.

“...Thank you.” she glanced around sheepishly. He wasn’t allowed to say that. Why did he say that?

Neither of them, it seemed, had a clue as to the appropriate course of action in the wake of this unexpected turn of events, leaving them stranded in a sea of awkwardness. Cosmin, his features normally as unreadable as a blank canvas, simply dipped his head in a manner that could only be described as characteristically simple-minded before aiming a hearty slap towards the slope of her shoulder. Adelina blinked.

"That will do it." he finally broke the silence, his voice as casual as if they were discussing the weather, before lumbering off, his gait reminiscent of a bear roused prematurely from hibernation.

Adelina's expression twisted into a mask of bafflement. What on earth could he possibly have meant by that?
--- End quote ---

TherapyCat:


Chapter 4
Spoiler: show
--- Quote ---The exchange of letters between the ill-fated lovers was a clandestine dance. Each day, Adelina would sprint to the edge of the farmlands, skirting dangerously close to colliding with the courier boy, to seize her treasured missives. Her bare feet would drum against the earth in wild, unadulterated joy as she clutched each letter to her chest. Each one, meticulously penned, on lilac paper, carrying the heady aroma of an earthy cigar - a scent that would become as familiar as her own heartbeat.

The letters, however, never dared cross the threshold of the household. They remained hidden, invisible to the inquisitive gaze of her kin, especially her father. Adelina knew that confessing her enduring affection for the enigmatic man would invoke her father's fury. So, the letters were her clandestine indulgence, a secret she nurtured, perhaps one they both shared. With a heart brimming with anticipation, she would retreat to the sanctuary of the neighbouring woods. There, amidst the towering trees, she would relive their singular meeting, as though it were a potent spell capable of conjuring her desired bliss. She possessed a metal box where she would carefully ensconce the letters, burying them at the foot of an ancient oak.
In all, there were six letters, excluding the succinct note accompanying the hat.
--- End quote ---



--- Quote ---January 13th 772,
Domn Artenie,
In the depths of my gratitude, I find the words to convey the joy your hat has given me. Such a thing of beauty, it is, and far finer than anything I’ve ever possessed. Yet, I wonder, does your kindness intend to spoil me, to create an insatiable crave for the finer things in life? A pitfall, perhaps, but there are certainly worse destinies.
Often, my thoughts wander to you, like a solitary rose blossoming defiantly amidst a field of relentless weeds. Despite the circumstance of my birth, I know I am a stranger in this place. Dreams of silk gowns and illuminated streets beckon me. I've heard whispers of the starlight in Dementileu, is it truly so magnificent? Can it extinguish the tendrils of fear that creep in the darkness?
Stars, those distant celestial beauties, are only visible to me through my modest window, their brilliance a cruel reminder of the distance that separates us. To be as privileged as you, to be so close to them, what a marvelous existence that must be.
Maybe one day, we too, will be amid those celestial bodies.
Forever in my  thoughts,
Adelina.

--- End quote ---


--- Quote ---January 28th, 772
My dear Mademoiselle Barbescu,
Under the cloak of nightfall, your letter finds me. Its words, a soothing balm to my restless soul. Your fondness for the hat fills me with a peculiar warmth. It's a mere trinket, a whisper of the opulence that awaits us.
Our dreams, vast as the star-strewn heavens, will take form in reality. As your husband, I pledge nothing less than a life adorned with the grandeur you deserve.
You speak of the stars, those distant celestial bodies. If they bewitch you, my love, they will be within your grasp. The city lights, too, if they should call to you. And gowns, a myriad of hues, each reflecting your iridescence. You outshine the brightest star - an undeniable truth that you should hold close.
The void between us gnaws at me, a relentless torment. I yearn to be at your side and shall hasten to you soon.
In the shadow of our love,
Louis.
--- End quote ---
_____



--- Quote ---Febuary 4th, 772
Dear Louis,
Imagine a closet filled with gowns, each of them a kaleidoscope of different hues. It's an amusing thought, isn't it? A stark contrast to my humble array of a single dress and working attire. In the world of literature, women wear delicate gloves as a symbol of elegance. I yearn to embody such grace and poise. Can such a transformation be achievable?
My desire for you is profound, my longing deep-rooted. My only aspiration is to be your wife, to belong to you and embrace a role I believe I am well-suited for. Rescue me from the monotonous days that seem to stretch into infinity. Your smile has ignited a flame within me, making everything else appear dull.
Yours, in the deepest chambers of my heart,
Addie.
--- End quote ---


--- Quote ---February 23rd, 772
Dearest,
You possess a singular gift, to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. I have no doubt that you will excel as a wife, for your heart is a wellspring of kindness. Our shared life will be nothing short of enchanting, this I swear to you. I shall ceaselessly endeavor to provide you with a life worthy of your grace.
Once the tangled web of my business dealings is unraveled, I will hasten to your side, a knight to his damsel, my pledge to you. Might I suggest you fill the ensuing void by penning your vows? I am well aware of your contemplative nature, and I am certain it will demand a considerable portion of time to distill your thoughts into the perfection I have come to cherish in your abundant intellect.
My dreams are a barren wasteland, devoid of your comforting presence.
The hour of our reunion approaches, my soon-to-be bride,
Louis.

--- End quote ---


--- Quote ---March 8th, 772
Lou,
A hollow ache pervades my being, an insatiable longing for your return. The sacred words, usually reserved for the pious, escape my lips in a desperate plea for your presence. The drudgery of an unwed existence is unbearable; I yearn to be enveloped in the sanctity of our union, a desire as natural to me as breathing.
Does the port city, with its bustling docks and towering masts, host grand matrimonial ceremonies unmarred by the count's shadow? Will our vows be exchanged amidst a spectacle of grandeur and splendor? Our parent's disappointment is inevitable, yet I cling to the hope of their eventual forgiveness. Perhaps they might even grace our nuptials with their presence?
And our awaiting home, does it echo the beauty of our love, untouched by the stains of the world? It must be so, for you would provide nothing less. Our tale, a beautiful interweaving of love and rebellion, finds itself nestled comfortably within the pages of a storybook, don't you agree?
Adelina Artenie... such a symphony of syllables. It's a name destined for the lips of poets, the covers of novels, and even in the throes of exasperation, it retains its lyrical charm. Wouldn't you agree?
Of course, you would. But these thoughts, these dreams, they consume me.
And so do you.
Yours in anticipation,
Addie.
--- End quote ---


--- Quote ---March 27th, 772
Addie,
Indeed, you will concur, won't you? Was it not I who first seeded this emotion in the fertile soil of your imagination? I, the pioneer in this arduous journey of love, dreamt of a world that will never bring me shame, my ethereal bride of Barovia. Our time has descended upon us, my love. On the fifth twilight of this cycle, as the  clock tolls twelve, I shall come to claim you. Be ready, our departure must be as swift as a raven's  flight. Await me by that solitary window, the one where you perch and gaze longingly at the celestial bodies. Soon, we shall embark on a chase, racing after the stars.
Yours in every moment,
Lou.
--- End quote ---

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