The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
A proper lady remembers her manners at all times. A proper lady is collected, calm, and charismatic. A proper lady knows the power she wields, and does not allow herself to be overshadowed by a man. Rather the lady learns to work with a man, in a way to not bruise the fragile male ego, but to also not allow herself to be overshadowed and put down simply because of her gender.
Princess Tythra was a proper lady. She excelled in everything that she did. She held a seat on the senate. She ran her own house with great success. She has two beautiful daughters that she has raised all on her own. Tythra knew how to smile, how to laugh, how to talk to various people in court and gain all the information she would need in order to excel in her position. She did not cave to the demands of man, or woman, but fought against this and pushed Drakos family into the position that they are in today. Her late husband set Tythra up for success, but she made sure to continue it, to elevate it to new extremes.
This expectation was held by both daughters, Imeeya and Essa. Imeeya was excellent. She knew how to speak, she knew how to smile. She was intelligent and cunning, and well, she wasn’t perfect, but she still had room to grow. Essa, on the other hand, was far behind Imeeya in many ways. It simply would not do. She was a Drakos daughter and had Kotas blood running through her. Her grandparents were King and Queen. She descended from greatness. And so it was Tythra’s duty to make sure her daughter grew up well.
And Essa utterly failed her.
Court had been a disaster. Tythra expected Essa to preform much better. Instead mistake after mistake was had and Tythra could only watch as her daughter embarrassed not just herself but the entire family. And yet Tythra kept her patience. It was court, not a place to be improper. She kept her smile, talked to the various Lords and Ladies smoothing any feathers that may be ruffled. And the carriage ride home was met with silence. Complete and utter silence.
It was only when they returned home did Tythra finally speak before Essa had the chance to retreat. “Essa, my little wrymling, let us sit in the sitting room and chat. I will have tea get prepared.” Without even looking at her daughter, she moved to the sitting room. This was not a suggestion, but a command, and Tythra had full confidence that Essa would be a good girl and follow her mother.
Tythra sat in the sitting room and motioned for a slave. Not too long later tea was poured. Tythra gently blew on the liquid, cooling it. Never did she say a word. She just took a sip of her tea, watching her daughter as she did.
One moment passed. Two. Tythra slowly placed down the cup. “Essa, you know I have expectations of you. I have made it clear what they are.” She said with her steady smile. “My dear, would you care to tell me how you’ve disappointed them today? You should know.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 13, 2020 23:31:46 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jun 13, 2020 23:31:46 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
A proper lady remembers her manners at all times. A proper lady is collected, calm, and charismatic. A proper lady knows the power she wields, and does not allow herself to be overshadowed by a man. Rather the lady learns to work with a man, in a way to not bruise the fragile male ego, but to also not allow herself to be overshadowed and put down simply because of her gender.
Princess Tythra was a proper lady. She excelled in everything that she did. She held a seat on the senate. She ran her own house with great success. She has two beautiful daughters that she has raised all on her own. Tythra knew how to smile, how to laugh, how to talk to various people in court and gain all the information she would need in order to excel in her position. She did not cave to the demands of man, or woman, but fought against this and pushed Drakos family into the position that they are in today. Her late husband set Tythra up for success, but she made sure to continue it, to elevate it to new extremes.
This expectation was held by both daughters, Imeeya and Essa. Imeeya was excellent. She knew how to speak, she knew how to smile. She was intelligent and cunning, and well, she wasn’t perfect, but she still had room to grow. Essa, on the other hand, was far behind Imeeya in many ways. It simply would not do. She was a Drakos daughter and had Kotas blood running through her. Her grandparents were King and Queen. She descended from greatness. And so it was Tythra’s duty to make sure her daughter grew up well.
And Essa utterly failed her.
Court had been a disaster. Tythra expected Essa to preform much better. Instead mistake after mistake was had and Tythra could only watch as her daughter embarrassed not just herself but the entire family. And yet Tythra kept her patience. It was court, not a place to be improper. She kept her smile, talked to the various Lords and Ladies smoothing any feathers that may be ruffled. And the carriage ride home was met with silence. Complete and utter silence.
It was only when they returned home did Tythra finally speak before Essa had the chance to retreat. “Essa, my little wrymling, let us sit in the sitting room and chat. I will have tea get prepared.” Without even looking at her daughter, she moved to the sitting room. This was not a suggestion, but a command, and Tythra had full confidence that Essa would be a good girl and follow her mother.
Tythra sat in the sitting room and motioned for a slave. Not too long later tea was poured. Tythra gently blew on the liquid, cooling it. Never did she say a word. She just took a sip of her tea, watching her daughter as she did.
One moment passed. Two. Tythra slowly placed down the cup. “Essa, you know I have expectations of you. I have made it clear what they are.” She said with her steady smile. “My dear, would you care to tell me how you’ve disappointed them today? You should know.”
A proper lady remembers her manners at all times. A proper lady is collected, calm, and charismatic. A proper lady knows the power she wields, and does not allow herself to be overshadowed by a man. Rather the lady learns to work with a man, in a way to not bruise the fragile male ego, but to also not allow herself to be overshadowed and put down simply because of her gender.
Princess Tythra was a proper lady. She excelled in everything that she did. She held a seat on the senate. She ran her own house with great success. She has two beautiful daughters that she has raised all on her own. Tythra knew how to smile, how to laugh, how to talk to various people in court and gain all the information she would need in order to excel in her position. She did not cave to the demands of man, or woman, but fought against this and pushed Drakos family into the position that they are in today. Her late husband set Tythra up for success, but she made sure to continue it, to elevate it to new extremes.
This expectation was held by both daughters, Imeeya and Essa. Imeeya was excellent. She knew how to speak, she knew how to smile. She was intelligent and cunning, and well, she wasn’t perfect, but she still had room to grow. Essa, on the other hand, was far behind Imeeya in many ways. It simply would not do. She was a Drakos daughter and had Kotas blood running through her. Her grandparents were King and Queen. She descended from greatness. And so it was Tythra’s duty to make sure her daughter grew up well.
And Essa utterly failed her.
Court had been a disaster. Tythra expected Essa to preform much better. Instead mistake after mistake was had and Tythra could only watch as her daughter embarrassed not just herself but the entire family. And yet Tythra kept her patience. It was court, not a place to be improper. She kept her smile, talked to the various Lords and Ladies smoothing any feathers that may be ruffled. And the carriage ride home was met with silence. Complete and utter silence.
It was only when they returned home did Tythra finally speak before Essa had the chance to retreat. “Essa, my little wrymling, let us sit in the sitting room and chat. I will have tea get prepared.” Without even looking at her daughter, she moved to the sitting room. This was not a suggestion, but a command, and Tythra had full confidence that Essa would be a good girl and follow her mother.
Tythra sat in the sitting room and motioned for a slave. Not too long later tea was poured. Tythra gently blew on the liquid, cooling it. Never did she say a word. She just took a sip of her tea, watching her daughter as she did.
One moment passed. Two. Tythra slowly placed down the cup. “Essa, you know I have expectations of you. I have made it clear what they are.” She said with her steady smile. “My dear, would you care to tell me how you’ve disappointed them today? You should know.”
Essa wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow her whole.
Even if that meant an eternity of some impossible task in the depths of Tartarus, that seemed preferable to the utter shame and disappointment she could feel radiating off her mother in this moment. Worst of all, however, was the knowledge that this wasn’t unusual. She might be more well-behaved than her elder sister, but that was the most that could be said for the shy girl. As far as anyone was concerned, she was the black sheep of the family.
She had known this since she was quite small. Gods knew it was obvious in every facet. In her appearance she took more after the deceased father she had never known than she did her mother or sister. Next to the two of them, she was dwarfed - quite literally - and outshone in every conceivable way. They were mirror images. Sometimes that meant they bickered more than they agreed, but they understood each other nonetheless. Their skills and thought processes were aligned. There was no way to deny the resemblance to Tythra in body and mind when one looked at Imeeya.
Essa on the other hand... she viewed the world differently than either mother or sister. While her mother would never say that this was a problem, it was the fundamental root to every moment of disappointment her mother felt for her. It was a problem that she didn’t know how to fix.
Things were bad enough as it was at Court. She didn’t fit in. That much was plain to see. She was a gentle spirit who needed sincere connection. Court was entirely devoid of that as far as she could tell. She was a girl who followed her heart and her emotions. Practicalities slipped her mind on occasion.
Today had been one such day.
The pressure of her mother’s eyes on her had been suffocating. Her usual nerves were at least tenfold. So it was little wonder she slipped up, misaddressing someone. From there, she only grew more and more upset and embarrassed. All the while, she felt her mother’s disapproving gaze grow sharper and sharper on her. There was no relief. There was no moment to slip away and recompose herself. Her mother smoothed every mistake over, but she might as well have screamed Essa’s incompetence. At least that was how every correction felt to her sensitive daughter.
The silence of the carriage ride home was so thick it felt as though it was suffocating her. She wanted nothing more than to flee to her room and cry her heart out, yet before her mother said so much as a word, she knew that she would find no reprieves in their home. Her mother had held her tongue this long - Essa could only dread the verbal lashing she knew was coming. But tender emotions had no place before her mother. Not when she had shamed herself, House Drakos, the Kotas name, and by extension, all of Colchis.
Yes, Tartarus would be quite the delight compared to what was awaiting her over tea.
“Of course, Mother,” she answered obediently, her voice soft but perfectly neutral. She had all of a scarce moment to compose herself, to hide her faltering emotions away before she crumbled. She dare not sound sullen or make excuses. It would only worsen what was in store for her.
After all, she knew she was a failure. The why of it simply didn’t matter.
Essa followed her mother into the sitting room. She sat silently before her mother, waiting for the moment she deigned to speak her mind, knowing the waiting was as much a punishment as the words that would follow. It was more than effective. Her mind ran rampant, twisting in on itself as she contemplated all the potential consequences of her failings. Her actions affected not just herself after all. They impacted her sister - a baron of her own right - and her mother - a Princess and head of their house. The only woman to vote in the senate. Her actions were associated with her cousins - the Princes and Princess of Colchis - and her Uncle and Aunt - the rulers of their nation. So many of the most vital, important members of Colchis society and government. And she had proven herself a detriment to every last one of them.
Even as her mother lifted the cup of tea before her, Essa dare not reach out for her own, afraid she would somehow offend once more. Hades, she’d probably spill it if she tried to grasp it giving the way her hands trembled, hidden beneath the table, clasped tightly in her lap.
Only when her mother spoke did she finally lift her gaze. She forced herself not to look away from the intensity of the disappointment that hide behind her polite smile. “Yes, Mother. A proper lady is collected, calm and charismatic, never forgets her manners and is never overshadowed. I failed to embody any of those principles today. I forgot my manners, I allowed others to eclipse me entirely. I failed to display any grain of charm or grace. I grew visibly flustered and in doing drew even more attention to my numerous failings.”
She paused her recitation to take a deep breath before continuing. Her voice was still in that carefully neutral tone. She was clearly contrite, but seemed otherwise disconnected - or at least from the storm of dark emotions that was growing stronger within her. Those would only earn even more of her mother’s disappointment, painting Essa all the weaker in her eyes. She could not break. Not now, not until she was alone. She had to press it all down, approach this with detached logic. Emotion had no place in politics. A proper lady knew how to control herself.
Surely Essa was at least capable of that.
“In doing so I shamed not only myself but all of my bloodline. I humiliated myself, embarrassed you and my sister, reflected poorly on my royal uncle and cousins and thus have reached a new level of failure before unknown to anyone born of Drakos or Kotas. A lady of my prestigious lineage should not be capable of such foolishness. I am a disgrace and I deserve far worse than your disappointment.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 20, 2020 5:29:42 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jun 20, 2020 5:29:42 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Essa wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow her whole.
Even if that meant an eternity of some impossible task in the depths of Tartarus, that seemed preferable to the utter shame and disappointment she could feel radiating off her mother in this moment. Worst of all, however, was the knowledge that this wasn’t unusual. She might be more well-behaved than her elder sister, but that was the most that could be said for the shy girl. As far as anyone was concerned, she was the black sheep of the family.
She had known this since she was quite small. Gods knew it was obvious in every facet. In her appearance she took more after the deceased father she had never known than she did her mother or sister. Next to the two of them, she was dwarfed - quite literally - and outshone in every conceivable way. They were mirror images. Sometimes that meant they bickered more than they agreed, but they understood each other nonetheless. Their skills and thought processes were aligned. There was no way to deny the resemblance to Tythra in body and mind when one looked at Imeeya.
Essa on the other hand... she viewed the world differently than either mother or sister. While her mother would never say that this was a problem, it was the fundamental root to every moment of disappointment her mother felt for her. It was a problem that she didn’t know how to fix.
Things were bad enough as it was at Court. She didn’t fit in. That much was plain to see. She was a gentle spirit who needed sincere connection. Court was entirely devoid of that as far as she could tell. She was a girl who followed her heart and her emotions. Practicalities slipped her mind on occasion.
Today had been one such day.
The pressure of her mother’s eyes on her had been suffocating. Her usual nerves were at least tenfold. So it was little wonder she slipped up, misaddressing someone. From there, she only grew more and more upset and embarrassed. All the while, she felt her mother’s disapproving gaze grow sharper and sharper on her. There was no relief. There was no moment to slip away and recompose herself. Her mother smoothed every mistake over, but she might as well have screamed Essa’s incompetence. At least that was how every correction felt to her sensitive daughter.
The silence of the carriage ride home was so thick it felt as though it was suffocating her. She wanted nothing more than to flee to her room and cry her heart out, yet before her mother said so much as a word, she knew that she would find no reprieves in their home. Her mother had held her tongue this long - Essa could only dread the verbal lashing she knew was coming. But tender emotions had no place before her mother. Not when she had shamed herself, House Drakos, the Kotas name, and by extension, all of Colchis.
Yes, Tartarus would be quite the delight compared to what was awaiting her over tea.
“Of course, Mother,” she answered obediently, her voice soft but perfectly neutral. She had all of a scarce moment to compose herself, to hide her faltering emotions away before she crumbled. She dare not sound sullen or make excuses. It would only worsen what was in store for her.
After all, she knew she was a failure. The why of it simply didn’t matter.
Essa followed her mother into the sitting room. She sat silently before her mother, waiting for the moment she deigned to speak her mind, knowing the waiting was as much a punishment as the words that would follow. It was more than effective. Her mind ran rampant, twisting in on itself as she contemplated all the potential consequences of her failings. Her actions affected not just herself after all. They impacted her sister - a baron of her own right - and her mother - a Princess and head of their house. The only woman to vote in the senate. Her actions were associated with her cousins - the Princes and Princess of Colchis - and her Uncle and Aunt - the rulers of their nation. So many of the most vital, important members of Colchis society and government. And she had proven herself a detriment to every last one of them.
Even as her mother lifted the cup of tea before her, Essa dare not reach out for her own, afraid she would somehow offend once more. Hades, she’d probably spill it if she tried to grasp it giving the way her hands trembled, hidden beneath the table, clasped tightly in her lap.
Only when her mother spoke did she finally lift her gaze. She forced herself not to look away from the intensity of the disappointment that hide behind her polite smile. “Yes, Mother. A proper lady is collected, calm and charismatic, never forgets her manners and is never overshadowed. I failed to embody any of those principles today. I forgot my manners, I allowed others to eclipse me entirely. I failed to display any grain of charm or grace. I grew visibly flustered and in doing drew even more attention to my numerous failings.”
She paused her recitation to take a deep breath before continuing. Her voice was still in that carefully neutral tone. She was clearly contrite, but seemed otherwise disconnected - or at least from the storm of dark emotions that was growing stronger within her. Those would only earn even more of her mother’s disappointment, painting Essa all the weaker in her eyes. She could not break. Not now, not until she was alone. She had to press it all down, approach this with detached logic. Emotion had no place in politics. A proper lady knew how to control herself.
Surely Essa was at least capable of that.
“In doing so I shamed not only myself but all of my bloodline. I humiliated myself, embarrassed you and my sister, reflected poorly on my royal uncle and cousins and thus have reached a new level of failure before unknown to anyone born of Drakos or Kotas. A lady of my prestigious lineage should not be capable of such foolishness. I am a disgrace and I deserve far worse than your disappointment.”
Essa wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow her whole.
Even if that meant an eternity of some impossible task in the depths of Tartarus, that seemed preferable to the utter shame and disappointment she could feel radiating off her mother in this moment. Worst of all, however, was the knowledge that this wasn’t unusual. She might be more well-behaved than her elder sister, but that was the most that could be said for the shy girl. As far as anyone was concerned, she was the black sheep of the family.
She had known this since she was quite small. Gods knew it was obvious in every facet. In her appearance she took more after the deceased father she had never known than she did her mother or sister. Next to the two of them, she was dwarfed - quite literally - and outshone in every conceivable way. They were mirror images. Sometimes that meant they bickered more than they agreed, but they understood each other nonetheless. Their skills and thought processes were aligned. There was no way to deny the resemblance to Tythra in body and mind when one looked at Imeeya.
Essa on the other hand... she viewed the world differently than either mother or sister. While her mother would never say that this was a problem, it was the fundamental root to every moment of disappointment her mother felt for her. It was a problem that she didn’t know how to fix.
Things were bad enough as it was at Court. She didn’t fit in. That much was plain to see. She was a gentle spirit who needed sincere connection. Court was entirely devoid of that as far as she could tell. She was a girl who followed her heart and her emotions. Practicalities slipped her mind on occasion.
Today had been one such day.
The pressure of her mother’s eyes on her had been suffocating. Her usual nerves were at least tenfold. So it was little wonder she slipped up, misaddressing someone. From there, she only grew more and more upset and embarrassed. All the while, she felt her mother’s disapproving gaze grow sharper and sharper on her. There was no relief. There was no moment to slip away and recompose herself. Her mother smoothed every mistake over, but she might as well have screamed Essa’s incompetence. At least that was how every correction felt to her sensitive daughter.
The silence of the carriage ride home was so thick it felt as though it was suffocating her. She wanted nothing more than to flee to her room and cry her heart out, yet before her mother said so much as a word, she knew that she would find no reprieves in their home. Her mother had held her tongue this long - Essa could only dread the verbal lashing she knew was coming. But tender emotions had no place before her mother. Not when she had shamed herself, House Drakos, the Kotas name, and by extension, all of Colchis.
Yes, Tartarus would be quite the delight compared to what was awaiting her over tea.
“Of course, Mother,” she answered obediently, her voice soft but perfectly neutral. She had all of a scarce moment to compose herself, to hide her faltering emotions away before she crumbled. She dare not sound sullen or make excuses. It would only worsen what was in store for her.
After all, she knew she was a failure. The why of it simply didn’t matter.
Essa followed her mother into the sitting room. She sat silently before her mother, waiting for the moment she deigned to speak her mind, knowing the waiting was as much a punishment as the words that would follow. It was more than effective. Her mind ran rampant, twisting in on itself as she contemplated all the potential consequences of her failings. Her actions affected not just herself after all. They impacted her sister - a baron of her own right - and her mother - a Princess and head of their house. The only woman to vote in the senate. Her actions were associated with her cousins - the Princes and Princess of Colchis - and her Uncle and Aunt - the rulers of their nation. So many of the most vital, important members of Colchis society and government. And she had proven herself a detriment to every last one of them.
Even as her mother lifted the cup of tea before her, Essa dare not reach out for her own, afraid she would somehow offend once more. Hades, she’d probably spill it if she tried to grasp it giving the way her hands trembled, hidden beneath the table, clasped tightly in her lap.
Only when her mother spoke did she finally lift her gaze. She forced herself not to look away from the intensity of the disappointment that hide behind her polite smile. “Yes, Mother. A proper lady is collected, calm and charismatic, never forgets her manners and is never overshadowed. I failed to embody any of those principles today. I forgot my manners, I allowed others to eclipse me entirely. I failed to display any grain of charm or grace. I grew visibly flustered and in doing drew even more attention to my numerous failings.”
She paused her recitation to take a deep breath before continuing. Her voice was still in that carefully neutral tone. She was clearly contrite, but seemed otherwise disconnected - or at least from the storm of dark emotions that was growing stronger within her. Those would only earn even more of her mother’s disappointment, painting Essa all the weaker in her eyes. She could not break. Not now, not until she was alone. She had to press it all down, approach this with detached logic. Emotion had no place in politics. A proper lady knew how to control herself.
Surely Essa was at least capable of that.
“In doing so I shamed not only myself but all of my bloodline. I humiliated myself, embarrassed you and my sister, reflected poorly on my royal uncle and cousins and thus have reached a new level of failure before unknown to anyone born of Drakos or Kotas. A lady of my prestigious lineage should not be capable of such foolishness. I am a disgrace and I deserve far worse than your disappointment.”
Essa clearly listened to Tythra when she spoke. She was able to regurgitate past lessons in her explanation. She knew exactly what was expected of her as a Lady of Drakos. But knowing and doing were two completely different things that Essa seemed not to grasp. Tythra took time to learn the names of nobility all across Colchis. She never would make the mistake of using the wrong title when speaking to someone. And should Tythra make that impossible mistake, she never would have made the situation worsen by becoming flustered.
Essa’s greatest flaw was that she was exactly like her father. Honestly, it bewildered Tythra at times when she looked to her daughter and could only see her late husband. From the dock locks of her hair to her eyes and behavior: Essa was clearly the daughter of Thesus of Drakos. Thesus was a kind man with a large heart. While Tythra never grew to love her husband, the two were far too different, she did respect him. But his kindness and good heart would never have gotten the Drakos name to where it was today. And should the name continue to have prestige, it was important that both her daughters learned to take care of their emotions.
“Yes, everything you said is certainly correct, Essa. I see that you hear my words. But you do leave out one very important teaching I have given you and your sister.” Tythra placed the cup on the table in front of her. Her polite smile flitted before returning to a neutral, stern expression. “You allowed your emotions to show through. Once again.”
Essa leaned back in the chair, going quiet once more so she could watch her daughter. Essa was the type to have her heart on her sleeve. Just like her father, she had too much emotions that often ran rampant. It was likely that emotion led to Thesus falling in battle. It clouds the mind, distracts, and causes many more mistakes to be made.
“Essa,” Tythra continued. “You cannot allow your emotions to dictate the decisions you make and the words that slip from your lips. The moment you allow them to take over a situation you have already lost. Who would you take seriously? The woman yelling angrily, or the woman speaking calmly yet firmly? The man who is confident or the man who is flustered? Emotions serve no purpose in politics and business. They are a distraction meant to weaken lesser people. Drakos are above this, Essa. You are above this.”
Tythra knew her daughters could be better. She knew they could be the best. It was just one… problem that they had that kept them from achieving so much more in life. Imeeya, too, suffered from her emotions, though less so than Essa. This was what made Essa… weak. “Do not allow your father’s greatest weakness to be yours as well. Unlike Thesus, you have Kotas blood running through your veins. Emotions have no place at court. Master them and you will have the chance to flourish. Continue as you are and you will be nothing more than… ordinary.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 22, 2020 20:39:16 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jun 22, 2020 20:39:16 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Essa clearly listened to Tythra when she spoke. She was able to regurgitate past lessons in her explanation. She knew exactly what was expected of her as a Lady of Drakos. But knowing and doing were two completely different things that Essa seemed not to grasp. Tythra took time to learn the names of nobility all across Colchis. She never would make the mistake of using the wrong title when speaking to someone. And should Tythra make that impossible mistake, she never would have made the situation worsen by becoming flustered.
Essa’s greatest flaw was that she was exactly like her father. Honestly, it bewildered Tythra at times when she looked to her daughter and could only see her late husband. From the dock locks of her hair to her eyes and behavior: Essa was clearly the daughter of Thesus of Drakos. Thesus was a kind man with a large heart. While Tythra never grew to love her husband, the two were far too different, she did respect him. But his kindness and good heart would never have gotten the Drakos name to where it was today. And should the name continue to have prestige, it was important that both her daughters learned to take care of their emotions.
“Yes, everything you said is certainly correct, Essa. I see that you hear my words. But you do leave out one very important teaching I have given you and your sister.” Tythra placed the cup on the table in front of her. Her polite smile flitted before returning to a neutral, stern expression. “You allowed your emotions to show through. Once again.”
Essa leaned back in the chair, going quiet once more so she could watch her daughter. Essa was the type to have her heart on her sleeve. Just like her father, she had too much emotions that often ran rampant. It was likely that emotion led to Thesus falling in battle. It clouds the mind, distracts, and causes many more mistakes to be made.
“Essa,” Tythra continued. “You cannot allow your emotions to dictate the decisions you make and the words that slip from your lips. The moment you allow them to take over a situation you have already lost. Who would you take seriously? The woman yelling angrily, or the woman speaking calmly yet firmly? The man who is confident or the man who is flustered? Emotions serve no purpose in politics and business. They are a distraction meant to weaken lesser people. Drakos are above this, Essa. You are above this.”
Tythra knew her daughters could be better. She knew they could be the best. It was just one… problem that they had that kept them from achieving so much more in life. Imeeya, too, suffered from her emotions, though less so than Essa. This was what made Essa… weak. “Do not allow your father’s greatest weakness to be yours as well. Unlike Thesus, you have Kotas blood running through your veins. Emotions have no place at court. Master them and you will have the chance to flourish. Continue as you are and you will be nothing more than… ordinary.”
Essa clearly listened to Tythra when she spoke. She was able to regurgitate past lessons in her explanation. She knew exactly what was expected of her as a Lady of Drakos. But knowing and doing were two completely different things that Essa seemed not to grasp. Tythra took time to learn the names of nobility all across Colchis. She never would make the mistake of using the wrong title when speaking to someone. And should Tythra make that impossible mistake, she never would have made the situation worsen by becoming flustered.
Essa’s greatest flaw was that she was exactly like her father. Honestly, it bewildered Tythra at times when she looked to her daughter and could only see her late husband. From the dock locks of her hair to her eyes and behavior: Essa was clearly the daughter of Thesus of Drakos. Thesus was a kind man with a large heart. While Tythra never grew to love her husband, the two were far too different, she did respect him. But his kindness and good heart would never have gotten the Drakos name to where it was today. And should the name continue to have prestige, it was important that both her daughters learned to take care of their emotions.
“Yes, everything you said is certainly correct, Essa. I see that you hear my words. But you do leave out one very important teaching I have given you and your sister.” Tythra placed the cup on the table in front of her. Her polite smile flitted before returning to a neutral, stern expression. “You allowed your emotions to show through. Once again.”
Essa leaned back in the chair, going quiet once more so she could watch her daughter. Essa was the type to have her heart on her sleeve. Just like her father, she had too much emotions that often ran rampant. It was likely that emotion led to Thesus falling in battle. It clouds the mind, distracts, and causes many more mistakes to be made.
“Essa,” Tythra continued. “You cannot allow your emotions to dictate the decisions you make and the words that slip from your lips. The moment you allow them to take over a situation you have already lost. Who would you take seriously? The woman yelling angrily, or the woman speaking calmly yet firmly? The man who is confident or the man who is flustered? Emotions serve no purpose in politics and business. They are a distraction meant to weaken lesser people. Drakos are above this, Essa. You are above this.”
Tythra knew her daughters could be better. She knew they could be the best. It was just one… problem that they had that kept them from achieving so much more in life. Imeeya, too, suffered from her emotions, though less so than Essa. This was what made Essa… weak. “Do not allow your father’s greatest weakness to be yours as well. Unlike Thesus, you have Kotas blood running through your veins. Emotions have no place at court. Master them and you will have the chance to flourish. Continue as you are and you will be nothing more than… ordinary.”
Though she had known it was coming, her mother’s agreement in her assessment of herself struck her to the core. She had to tense her muscles to avoid a visible flinch from the words. Her eyes lifted as Tythra suggested she had still forgotten a lesson. Ah, yes, that one. The entirety of the divide between mother and daughter summed up in one simple sentence.
She appeared every bit the attentive, dutiful daughter listening to her mother’s words. But the truth was, she had heard them all before. She knew exactly how her mother felt about her emotions. While merely one of the many things that made her so different from her family, it always led back to this. She nodded at the appropriate times, biting back all the words she’d love to say.
To her mother, failure to perform in front of her meant complete incompetence. It didn’t matter what she knew if she slipped up under her mother’s judgmental gaze. If she tried to explain that she had known the proper title but had merely stumbled under pressure, her mother would simply call it a pitiful excuse for her behavior. She wanted to say that she would never discount someone’s opinion because they cared about what they spoke of.
She wanted to say that she had no purpose in business or politics.
They had known her strengths did not lie in those areas since she had begun her lessons as a child. Yet her mother was determined to remake Essa in her own image, no matter what the cost to her daughter.
The storm within her grew stronger as her mother spoke of Thesus - her father. A father she had never known. She had never even been held by him as a babe. There was no knowing if he ever knew of her existence before his death. He was a hole in her life and the comparisons to him only deepened that ache. Especially when all her resemblance to the man who sired her was what made her weak in her mother’s eyes.
She had often wondered what sort of father he would have been. Would he have soothed her tears instead of scolding her for shedding them where one might witness? Would he tell her that her ability to feel deeply was a gift rather than her demise? At the least, maybe he would have helped her not feel so alone. If her mother was right, then Tythra and Imeeya were more Kotas than Drakos in spirit. Yet that was not the Drakos her mother cared for.
Their house too had been remade in her mother’s image. It felt as though she had cut away all that remained of her dead husband. The only thing that remained of him was Essa herself. It seemed she was doing all she could to remove that as well. Had she truly thought so little of the man she had married? Had she resented that she had married beneath her rather than forging an alliance with a foreign King or Prince? Even if Essa could perform exactly as she wanted, would it ever be enough to truly secure her approval?
Beneath the table, her hands were curled into fists so tight her knuckles were white and her fingernails would come away stained with her own blood. That sting of pain was the only thing that kept her still before her mother. She knew there was no point in doing anything but agree. Nothing she could do would please her mother after all, so it was best to try to do as little as possible.
Then perhaps I have no place at Court.
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she buried them down, as she did so much. For all that her mother complained about the excessive emotion she dared to show, Tythra didn’t have a clue just how much Essa did keep hidden from the world. How much was buried, bottled up within her, always threatening to explode. The exaggerated emotions her mother spoke of were the weakest she had to offer.
Just what would her mother think of her then?
Moreover, why was ordinary so terrible? There was no way to take the way her mother said the word as anything more than insulting. It was the life she was destined for nonetheless. Her duty was to marry below herself and strengthen the Drakos name. Her mother would rule over Drakos until her husband did one day. That would never be her place, so why did her mother expect her to be the political mastermind?
Why couldn’t her mother love her, just as she was?
There had to be something more she could do. She would never escape her mother’s gaze. Never hear the end of her criticism. Imeeya would be sent out into the world, trusted to represent their families. Essa would be forever held close, forever under scrutiny, forever lacking in their mother’s eyes. Even if she managed to do all her mother asked of her, she couldn’t help but fear Tythra would be there, simply waiting for her to falter once more.
She had been silent too long. She needed to speak and needed to deliver the message her mother wanted to hear perfectly.
Once more, she swallowed all these thoughts down, pretending to be deeply considering her mother’s words to buy her time to compose her voice. “You’re right, of course. I know better and yet I continue to make the same mistakes. You didn’t raise me to be a fool.” She paused a moment longer, trying to decide what words might best soothe her mother’s cold ire. “Even if I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have allowed it to bother me so greatly that it unraveled me completely. A woman of Drakos and Kotas blood should be above such things. I should have looked to your example instead.”
Her eyes lifted to look at her mother, every bit the appearance of a child who knew they had done wrong. “I must do better. Even if I cannot see the way forward, I must trust in your guidance and learn to do as you say. I am sorry I have shamed us all in my failure. I know no amount of regret will change what transpired today. But I will not allow it to be for naught. Instead, I will use it to strengthen my resolve so that I may one day make you proud.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 24, 2020 6:21:21 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jun 24, 2020 6:21:21 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Though she had known it was coming, her mother’s agreement in her assessment of herself struck her to the core. She had to tense her muscles to avoid a visible flinch from the words. Her eyes lifted as Tythra suggested she had still forgotten a lesson. Ah, yes, that one. The entirety of the divide between mother and daughter summed up in one simple sentence.
She appeared every bit the attentive, dutiful daughter listening to her mother’s words. But the truth was, she had heard them all before. She knew exactly how her mother felt about her emotions. While merely one of the many things that made her so different from her family, it always led back to this. She nodded at the appropriate times, biting back all the words she’d love to say.
To her mother, failure to perform in front of her meant complete incompetence. It didn’t matter what she knew if she slipped up under her mother’s judgmental gaze. If she tried to explain that she had known the proper title but had merely stumbled under pressure, her mother would simply call it a pitiful excuse for her behavior. She wanted to say that she would never discount someone’s opinion because they cared about what they spoke of.
She wanted to say that she had no purpose in business or politics.
They had known her strengths did not lie in those areas since she had begun her lessons as a child. Yet her mother was determined to remake Essa in her own image, no matter what the cost to her daughter.
The storm within her grew stronger as her mother spoke of Thesus - her father. A father she had never known. She had never even been held by him as a babe. There was no knowing if he ever knew of her existence before his death. He was a hole in her life and the comparisons to him only deepened that ache. Especially when all her resemblance to the man who sired her was what made her weak in her mother’s eyes.
She had often wondered what sort of father he would have been. Would he have soothed her tears instead of scolding her for shedding them where one might witness? Would he tell her that her ability to feel deeply was a gift rather than her demise? At the least, maybe he would have helped her not feel so alone. If her mother was right, then Tythra and Imeeya were more Kotas than Drakos in spirit. Yet that was not the Drakos her mother cared for.
Their house too had been remade in her mother’s image. It felt as though she had cut away all that remained of her dead husband. The only thing that remained of him was Essa herself. It seemed she was doing all she could to remove that as well. Had she truly thought so little of the man she had married? Had she resented that she had married beneath her rather than forging an alliance with a foreign King or Prince? Even if Essa could perform exactly as she wanted, would it ever be enough to truly secure her approval?
Beneath the table, her hands were curled into fists so tight her knuckles were white and her fingernails would come away stained with her own blood. That sting of pain was the only thing that kept her still before her mother. She knew there was no point in doing anything but agree. Nothing she could do would please her mother after all, so it was best to try to do as little as possible.
Then perhaps I have no place at Court.
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she buried them down, as she did so much. For all that her mother complained about the excessive emotion she dared to show, Tythra didn’t have a clue just how much Essa did keep hidden from the world. How much was buried, bottled up within her, always threatening to explode. The exaggerated emotions her mother spoke of were the weakest she had to offer.
Just what would her mother think of her then?
Moreover, why was ordinary so terrible? There was no way to take the way her mother said the word as anything more than insulting. It was the life she was destined for nonetheless. Her duty was to marry below herself and strengthen the Drakos name. Her mother would rule over Drakos until her husband did one day. That would never be her place, so why did her mother expect her to be the political mastermind?
Why couldn’t her mother love her, just as she was?
There had to be something more she could do. She would never escape her mother’s gaze. Never hear the end of her criticism. Imeeya would be sent out into the world, trusted to represent their families. Essa would be forever held close, forever under scrutiny, forever lacking in their mother’s eyes. Even if she managed to do all her mother asked of her, she couldn’t help but fear Tythra would be there, simply waiting for her to falter once more.
She had been silent too long. She needed to speak and needed to deliver the message her mother wanted to hear perfectly.
Once more, she swallowed all these thoughts down, pretending to be deeply considering her mother’s words to buy her time to compose her voice. “You’re right, of course. I know better and yet I continue to make the same mistakes. You didn’t raise me to be a fool.” She paused a moment longer, trying to decide what words might best soothe her mother’s cold ire. “Even if I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have allowed it to bother me so greatly that it unraveled me completely. A woman of Drakos and Kotas blood should be above such things. I should have looked to your example instead.”
Her eyes lifted to look at her mother, every bit the appearance of a child who knew they had done wrong. “I must do better. Even if I cannot see the way forward, I must trust in your guidance and learn to do as you say. I am sorry I have shamed us all in my failure. I know no amount of regret will change what transpired today. But I will not allow it to be for naught. Instead, I will use it to strengthen my resolve so that I may one day make you proud.”
Though she had known it was coming, her mother’s agreement in her assessment of herself struck her to the core. She had to tense her muscles to avoid a visible flinch from the words. Her eyes lifted as Tythra suggested she had still forgotten a lesson. Ah, yes, that one. The entirety of the divide between mother and daughter summed up in one simple sentence.
She appeared every bit the attentive, dutiful daughter listening to her mother’s words. But the truth was, she had heard them all before. She knew exactly how her mother felt about her emotions. While merely one of the many things that made her so different from her family, it always led back to this. She nodded at the appropriate times, biting back all the words she’d love to say.
To her mother, failure to perform in front of her meant complete incompetence. It didn’t matter what she knew if she slipped up under her mother’s judgmental gaze. If she tried to explain that she had known the proper title but had merely stumbled under pressure, her mother would simply call it a pitiful excuse for her behavior. She wanted to say that she would never discount someone’s opinion because they cared about what they spoke of.
She wanted to say that she had no purpose in business or politics.
They had known her strengths did not lie in those areas since she had begun her lessons as a child. Yet her mother was determined to remake Essa in her own image, no matter what the cost to her daughter.
The storm within her grew stronger as her mother spoke of Thesus - her father. A father she had never known. She had never even been held by him as a babe. There was no knowing if he ever knew of her existence before his death. He was a hole in her life and the comparisons to him only deepened that ache. Especially when all her resemblance to the man who sired her was what made her weak in her mother’s eyes.
She had often wondered what sort of father he would have been. Would he have soothed her tears instead of scolding her for shedding them where one might witness? Would he tell her that her ability to feel deeply was a gift rather than her demise? At the least, maybe he would have helped her not feel so alone. If her mother was right, then Tythra and Imeeya were more Kotas than Drakos in spirit. Yet that was not the Drakos her mother cared for.
Their house too had been remade in her mother’s image. It felt as though she had cut away all that remained of her dead husband. The only thing that remained of him was Essa herself. It seemed she was doing all she could to remove that as well. Had she truly thought so little of the man she had married? Had she resented that she had married beneath her rather than forging an alliance with a foreign King or Prince? Even if Essa could perform exactly as she wanted, would it ever be enough to truly secure her approval?
Beneath the table, her hands were curled into fists so tight her knuckles were white and her fingernails would come away stained with her own blood. That sting of pain was the only thing that kept her still before her mother. She knew there was no point in doing anything but agree. Nothing she could do would please her mother after all, so it was best to try to do as little as possible.
Then perhaps I have no place at Court.
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she buried them down, as she did so much. For all that her mother complained about the excessive emotion she dared to show, Tythra didn’t have a clue just how much Essa did keep hidden from the world. How much was buried, bottled up within her, always threatening to explode. The exaggerated emotions her mother spoke of were the weakest she had to offer.
Just what would her mother think of her then?
Moreover, why was ordinary so terrible? There was no way to take the way her mother said the word as anything more than insulting. It was the life she was destined for nonetheless. Her duty was to marry below herself and strengthen the Drakos name. Her mother would rule over Drakos until her husband did one day. That would never be her place, so why did her mother expect her to be the political mastermind?
Why couldn’t her mother love her, just as she was?
There had to be something more she could do. She would never escape her mother’s gaze. Never hear the end of her criticism. Imeeya would be sent out into the world, trusted to represent their families. Essa would be forever held close, forever under scrutiny, forever lacking in their mother’s eyes. Even if she managed to do all her mother asked of her, she couldn’t help but fear Tythra would be there, simply waiting for her to falter once more.
She had been silent too long. She needed to speak and needed to deliver the message her mother wanted to hear perfectly.
Once more, she swallowed all these thoughts down, pretending to be deeply considering her mother’s words to buy her time to compose her voice. “You’re right, of course. I know better and yet I continue to make the same mistakes. You didn’t raise me to be a fool.” She paused a moment longer, trying to decide what words might best soothe her mother’s cold ire. “Even if I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have allowed it to bother me so greatly that it unraveled me completely. A woman of Drakos and Kotas blood should be above such things. I should have looked to your example instead.”
Her eyes lifted to look at her mother, every bit the appearance of a child who knew they had done wrong. “I must do better. Even if I cannot see the way forward, I must trust in your guidance and learn to do as you say. I am sorry I have shamed us all in my failure. I know no amount of regret will change what transpired today. But I will not allow it to be for naught. Instead, I will use it to strengthen my resolve so that I may one day make you proud.”
All the words Essa said were eloquent and correct. Her facial were, for the most part, steady. Essa was being a proper lady. Which then begs the question, why was it that she was able to be proper right now, but not when it truly mattered. Tythra knew that she was an intimidating person. That was exactly what she strived to be, polite and powerful. And yet court which was filled with entirely… useless, bumbling people was what made Essa nervous. What about other people made her daughter make mistakes when she, above everyone else, should be the one that was flourishing.
Tythra didn’t raise Essa any differently than she did with Imeeya. She had the same exact expectations with both of her daughters, save who she wanted them to marry. And they both would have a great responsibility. She would not marry either child to some third son to a noble or royal house and expect them to do nothing but live on their family’s riches. They both were to climb the ladder politically, and prove to the world that it was no fluke that Tythra got in a position of power but it is that Kotas blood that runs within all of them that brings success. They were all intelligent, brave, and capable women, more so than any man they may come across.
So where exactly did Essa go wrong? Yes, she was more her father than her mother, but there was something else that… Tythra could not work out. Why was she so sensitive? So… hesitant to people that should be below her. Aside from the Kotas family, everyone was below Essa. She was a Drakos, a dragon soaring high above everyone else. And yet Essa really was the epitome of what Tythra called her daughters: A wyrmling.
“This is not the first time we’ve had this discussion, Essa.” Tythra’s voice was soft. “And yet time and time again you have demonstrated to me that you do not heed my words and embody my lessons. You’ve failed numerous times. And it breaks my heart, for I know you have the potential to be just as great as your sister and I. You have the potential to be more, to show every man and woman what it means to be a Drakos. To be fierce, to be capable, and above all else… to be powerful.”
Tythra once more looked at her daughter. She wished she could see just the tiniest bit of herself in Essa. Aside from gender, she looked and acted as if she inherited nothing from her mother. How could she be so different? How could Tythra better guide Essa? Had Tythra failed her daughter? She thought not, failure was something she did not tolerate. But perhaps a new approach…
“Essa, I believe it time that you accompany me in some of my meetings. Perhaps you had not gotten proper exposure. Of course not all you will be allowed to enter, but should my words not have been sufficient for you to learn, perhaps my actions will provide a better example.” Tythra once again was not requesting. It would seem that she would need to take an even more active approach to Essa’s education. Maybe even Imeeya should Tythra deem it necessary. The Princess motioned to Essa’s tea, “Drink before it cools, Essa.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 26, 2020 17:41:12 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jun 26, 2020 17:41:12 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
All the words Essa said were eloquent and correct. Her facial were, for the most part, steady. Essa was being a proper lady. Which then begs the question, why was it that she was able to be proper right now, but not when it truly mattered. Tythra knew that she was an intimidating person. That was exactly what she strived to be, polite and powerful. And yet court which was filled with entirely… useless, bumbling people was what made Essa nervous. What about other people made her daughter make mistakes when she, above everyone else, should be the one that was flourishing.
Tythra didn’t raise Essa any differently than she did with Imeeya. She had the same exact expectations with both of her daughters, save who she wanted them to marry. And they both would have a great responsibility. She would not marry either child to some third son to a noble or royal house and expect them to do nothing but live on their family’s riches. They both were to climb the ladder politically, and prove to the world that it was no fluke that Tythra got in a position of power but it is that Kotas blood that runs within all of them that brings success. They were all intelligent, brave, and capable women, more so than any man they may come across.
So where exactly did Essa go wrong? Yes, she was more her father than her mother, but there was something else that… Tythra could not work out. Why was she so sensitive? So… hesitant to people that should be below her. Aside from the Kotas family, everyone was below Essa. She was a Drakos, a dragon soaring high above everyone else. And yet Essa really was the epitome of what Tythra called her daughters: A wyrmling.
“This is not the first time we’ve had this discussion, Essa.” Tythra’s voice was soft. “And yet time and time again you have demonstrated to me that you do not heed my words and embody my lessons. You’ve failed numerous times. And it breaks my heart, for I know you have the potential to be just as great as your sister and I. You have the potential to be more, to show every man and woman what it means to be a Drakos. To be fierce, to be capable, and above all else… to be powerful.”
Tythra once more looked at her daughter. She wished she could see just the tiniest bit of herself in Essa. Aside from gender, she looked and acted as if she inherited nothing from her mother. How could she be so different? How could Tythra better guide Essa? Had Tythra failed her daughter? She thought not, failure was something she did not tolerate. But perhaps a new approach…
“Essa, I believe it time that you accompany me in some of my meetings. Perhaps you had not gotten proper exposure. Of course not all you will be allowed to enter, but should my words not have been sufficient for you to learn, perhaps my actions will provide a better example.” Tythra once again was not requesting. It would seem that she would need to take an even more active approach to Essa’s education. Maybe even Imeeya should Tythra deem it necessary. The Princess motioned to Essa’s tea, “Drink before it cools, Essa.”
All the words Essa said were eloquent and correct. Her facial were, for the most part, steady. Essa was being a proper lady. Which then begs the question, why was it that she was able to be proper right now, but not when it truly mattered. Tythra knew that she was an intimidating person. That was exactly what she strived to be, polite and powerful. And yet court which was filled with entirely… useless, bumbling people was what made Essa nervous. What about other people made her daughter make mistakes when she, above everyone else, should be the one that was flourishing.
Tythra didn’t raise Essa any differently than she did with Imeeya. She had the same exact expectations with both of her daughters, save who she wanted them to marry. And they both would have a great responsibility. She would not marry either child to some third son to a noble or royal house and expect them to do nothing but live on their family’s riches. They both were to climb the ladder politically, and prove to the world that it was no fluke that Tythra got in a position of power but it is that Kotas blood that runs within all of them that brings success. They were all intelligent, brave, and capable women, more so than any man they may come across.
So where exactly did Essa go wrong? Yes, she was more her father than her mother, but there was something else that… Tythra could not work out. Why was she so sensitive? So… hesitant to people that should be below her. Aside from the Kotas family, everyone was below Essa. She was a Drakos, a dragon soaring high above everyone else. And yet Essa really was the epitome of what Tythra called her daughters: A wyrmling.
“This is not the first time we’ve had this discussion, Essa.” Tythra’s voice was soft. “And yet time and time again you have demonstrated to me that you do not heed my words and embody my lessons. You’ve failed numerous times. And it breaks my heart, for I know you have the potential to be just as great as your sister and I. You have the potential to be more, to show every man and woman what it means to be a Drakos. To be fierce, to be capable, and above all else… to be powerful.”
Tythra once more looked at her daughter. She wished she could see just the tiniest bit of herself in Essa. Aside from gender, she looked and acted as if she inherited nothing from her mother. How could she be so different? How could Tythra better guide Essa? Had Tythra failed her daughter? She thought not, failure was something she did not tolerate. But perhaps a new approach…
“Essa, I believe it time that you accompany me in some of my meetings. Perhaps you had not gotten proper exposure. Of course not all you will be allowed to enter, but should my words not have been sufficient for you to learn, perhaps my actions will provide a better example.” Tythra once again was not requesting. It would seem that she would need to take an even more active approach to Essa’s education. Maybe even Imeeya should Tythra deem it necessary. The Princess motioned to Essa’s tea, “Drink before it cools, Essa.”
Essa could only sit and wait for whatever came next, praying that her contrite words and appearance had softened her mother’s temper. She had never been comfortable with conflict. Imeeya’s anger had always been red hot - steaming, stomping, screaming. Her mother on the other hand... If Imeeya was the flame, then Tythra was ice. While shouting made Essa uncomfortable, somehow her mother’s cold ire cut far deeper. It was the difference between a mishap with a kitchen knife and the precision of a physician’s blade.
Her mother meant well. She knew that. She wanted the best for her daughters, and Essa was largely grateful for that. But... her idea of helping was to mold her daughters in her image, to prepare them for her life. A life of duty, political prowess and ultimately survival. Imeeya was well on her way to that. Essa just didn’t have that sort of life in her.
She was a model noble lady in so many ways. Any other mother would be delighted with her - demure and feminine. Yet Tythra saw weakness after weakness in her softness. It seemed her belief was that if she was strict enough, stubborn enough, then in time Essa could become her. But Essa knew deep down, she would never fit that mold. It was like asking grain to taste like lamb.
Still, she had to try. Even knowing she would fail. She cared too much for her mother’s opinion, her approval - her love - to do anything less.
Essa bowed her head as her mother spoke, feeling the weight of shame growing heavy upon her shoulders. She couldn’t allow the tears in her eyes to fall. She had to survive this tea first. If she could control herself now then maybe her mother would believe she wasn’t entirely a waste of space. So she listened to the same remarks about how frequently she’d disappointed, how much more potential she had, what was expected of a Drakos, how she ought to be like her mother.
And it breaks my heart...
She couldn’t help but wince at that remark, even trying as hard as she was to not react at all. Disappointing her was bad enough, but the idea of breaking her mother’s heart... for someone as emotionally sensitive as Essa, that was worse than a knife to the heart. She knew her mother wasn’t heartless. She might not be warm, but she loved her family fiercely. Essa just spent more time than not feeling as though she was separate of her family. As if she surely had to be someone else’s child, because there didn’t seem to be a shred of Tythra in her.
To be fierce, to the capable, and above all else... to be powerful.
There was much she was capable in, but none of those things mattered to her mother. She didn’t want a daughter who would be a good wife. She wanted a daughter to be a good leader in her own right. Someone who didn’t need a man, and who would be just as influential as her husband. That just wasn’t who Essa was. She had no fierceness within her. Or at least, not that she manifested in a way her mother saw suitable. She had fire, but hers was more passion than anything else. Passion for stories, for people, for fairness, for love. All things her mother found less than significant. Emotions were for the weak in her mother’s mind. Love wasn’t real, or at the least, it wasn’t important.
Yet Essa had always been the sort who was sensitive to all around her. Hearing someone be yelled at would have her acting as timid and guilty as the one in trouble. She could grow attached to just about anything or anyone. She valued servants and commoners as much as her noble peers. She was soft, and that might suit some, but not a Drakos.
What came next astounded her. “No!” she exclaimed softly, her head jerking up. This was her worst nightmare. She quickly restrained her expression, catching her breath and choosing a course of action. There had to be a way she could argue this, could explain, that would spare her the torture of accompanying her mother to political meetings day in and out.
“What I mean to say, Mother,” she began cautiously, “is that I fear that will not have the results you wish for, and I would hate to waste your most valuable time.” She paused a moment to sip at the tea, careful to hide her palms which were bloodstained from her nails. “Your example in both words and actions have been sufficient, I assure you. I realize today did not reflect that, but that is based on an entirely separate issue you see. You have prepared me quite well, truly. As you see in this very conversation.” Her dark eyes studied her mother, trying to gauge if her persuasion was having any effect at all.
“One on one conversations such as this are easy, and I do well in small groups as well. It is the crowd of court that I struggle with. So many voices at once, simultaneous conversations, the lack of personal space, the fast pace as people come and go, so many eyes on you at once... I find it terribly overwhelming. That is what makes me stumble and crumble apart with my errors - not any fault on your part.”
She bowed her head once more, though in a manner of humility rather than shame. “I know this is a weakness most unbecoming of a lady of Drakos and Kotas blood. I wish I understood its cause. But I know I can overcome it in due time. While accompanying you would be a most educational experience, I fear it will only confuse and frustrate matters between us all the more, as my performances appear even more contrary and disjointed.”
Now she looked up at her mother, meeting her eyes earnestly. “I love you dearly, Mother, and it wounds me deeply to disappoint you. I know your time is precious as you’re responsible for so much, and I would hate for our only limited time together as mother and daughter to be marred by constant conflict. If all goes well, I won’t have many more years left with you before I am wed. It would break my heart to be left with only memories of your displeasure.”
She offered her mother a sweet smile. “I know there is a way to overcome my fatal flaw and make you proud. I swear to you, I will persevere until I have found it. Nothing would please me more than to finally make you proud, Mama. I only hope I haven’t failed you so profoundly as to have shattered all your faith in me.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jul 15, 2020 2:46:40 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jul 15, 2020 2:46:40 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Essa could only sit and wait for whatever came next, praying that her contrite words and appearance had softened her mother’s temper. She had never been comfortable with conflict. Imeeya’s anger had always been red hot - steaming, stomping, screaming. Her mother on the other hand... If Imeeya was the flame, then Tythra was ice. While shouting made Essa uncomfortable, somehow her mother’s cold ire cut far deeper. It was the difference between a mishap with a kitchen knife and the precision of a physician’s blade.
Her mother meant well. She knew that. She wanted the best for her daughters, and Essa was largely grateful for that. But... her idea of helping was to mold her daughters in her image, to prepare them for her life. A life of duty, political prowess and ultimately survival. Imeeya was well on her way to that. Essa just didn’t have that sort of life in her.
She was a model noble lady in so many ways. Any other mother would be delighted with her - demure and feminine. Yet Tythra saw weakness after weakness in her softness. It seemed her belief was that if she was strict enough, stubborn enough, then in time Essa could become her. But Essa knew deep down, she would never fit that mold. It was like asking grain to taste like lamb.
Still, she had to try. Even knowing she would fail. She cared too much for her mother’s opinion, her approval - her love - to do anything less.
Essa bowed her head as her mother spoke, feeling the weight of shame growing heavy upon her shoulders. She couldn’t allow the tears in her eyes to fall. She had to survive this tea first. If she could control herself now then maybe her mother would believe she wasn’t entirely a waste of space. So she listened to the same remarks about how frequently she’d disappointed, how much more potential she had, what was expected of a Drakos, how she ought to be like her mother.
And it breaks my heart...
She couldn’t help but wince at that remark, even trying as hard as she was to not react at all. Disappointing her was bad enough, but the idea of breaking her mother’s heart... for someone as emotionally sensitive as Essa, that was worse than a knife to the heart. She knew her mother wasn’t heartless. She might not be warm, but she loved her family fiercely. Essa just spent more time than not feeling as though she was separate of her family. As if she surely had to be someone else’s child, because there didn’t seem to be a shred of Tythra in her.
To be fierce, to the capable, and above all else... to be powerful.
There was much she was capable in, but none of those things mattered to her mother. She didn’t want a daughter who would be a good wife. She wanted a daughter to be a good leader in her own right. Someone who didn’t need a man, and who would be just as influential as her husband. That just wasn’t who Essa was. She had no fierceness within her. Or at least, not that she manifested in a way her mother saw suitable. She had fire, but hers was more passion than anything else. Passion for stories, for people, for fairness, for love. All things her mother found less than significant. Emotions were for the weak in her mother’s mind. Love wasn’t real, or at the least, it wasn’t important.
Yet Essa had always been the sort who was sensitive to all around her. Hearing someone be yelled at would have her acting as timid and guilty as the one in trouble. She could grow attached to just about anything or anyone. She valued servants and commoners as much as her noble peers. She was soft, and that might suit some, but not a Drakos.
What came next astounded her. “No!” she exclaimed softly, her head jerking up. This was her worst nightmare. She quickly restrained her expression, catching her breath and choosing a course of action. There had to be a way she could argue this, could explain, that would spare her the torture of accompanying her mother to political meetings day in and out.
“What I mean to say, Mother,” she began cautiously, “is that I fear that will not have the results you wish for, and I would hate to waste your most valuable time.” She paused a moment to sip at the tea, careful to hide her palms which were bloodstained from her nails. “Your example in both words and actions have been sufficient, I assure you. I realize today did not reflect that, but that is based on an entirely separate issue you see. You have prepared me quite well, truly. As you see in this very conversation.” Her dark eyes studied her mother, trying to gauge if her persuasion was having any effect at all.
“One on one conversations such as this are easy, and I do well in small groups as well. It is the crowd of court that I struggle with. So many voices at once, simultaneous conversations, the lack of personal space, the fast pace as people come and go, so many eyes on you at once... I find it terribly overwhelming. That is what makes me stumble and crumble apart with my errors - not any fault on your part.”
She bowed her head once more, though in a manner of humility rather than shame. “I know this is a weakness most unbecoming of a lady of Drakos and Kotas blood. I wish I understood its cause. But I know I can overcome it in due time. While accompanying you would be a most educational experience, I fear it will only confuse and frustrate matters between us all the more, as my performances appear even more contrary and disjointed.”
Now she looked up at her mother, meeting her eyes earnestly. “I love you dearly, Mother, and it wounds me deeply to disappoint you. I know your time is precious as you’re responsible for so much, and I would hate for our only limited time together as mother and daughter to be marred by constant conflict. If all goes well, I won’t have many more years left with you before I am wed. It would break my heart to be left with only memories of your displeasure.”
She offered her mother a sweet smile. “I know there is a way to overcome my fatal flaw and make you proud. I swear to you, I will persevere until I have found it. Nothing would please me more than to finally make you proud, Mama. I only hope I haven’t failed you so profoundly as to have shattered all your faith in me.”
Essa could only sit and wait for whatever came next, praying that her contrite words and appearance had softened her mother’s temper. She had never been comfortable with conflict. Imeeya’s anger had always been red hot - steaming, stomping, screaming. Her mother on the other hand... If Imeeya was the flame, then Tythra was ice. While shouting made Essa uncomfortable, somehow her mother’s cold ire cut far deeper. It was the difference between a mishap with a kitchen knife and the precision of a physician’s blade.
Her mother meant well. She knew that. She wanted the best for her daughters, and Essa was largely grateful for that. But... her idea of helping was to mold her daughters in her image, to prepare them for her life. A life of duty, political prowess and ultimately survival. Imeeya was well on her way to that. Essa just didn’t have that sort of life in her.
She was a model noble lady in so many ways. Any other mother would be delighted with her - demure and feminine. Yet Tythra saw weakness after weakness in her softness. It seemed her belief was that if she was strict enough, stubborn enough, then in time Essa could become her. But Essa knew deep down, she would never fit that mold. It was like asking grain to taste like lamb.
Still, she had to try. Even knowing she would fail. She cared too much for her mother’s opinion, her approval - her love - to do anything less.
Essa bowed her head as her mother spoke, feeling the weight of shame growing heavy upon her shoulders. She couldn’t allow the tears in her eyes to fall. She had to survive this tea first. If she could control herself now then maybe her mother would believe she wasn’t entirely a waste of space. So she listened to the same remarks about how frequently she’d disappointed, how much more potential she had, what was expected of a Drakos, how she ought to be like her mother.
And it breaks my heart...
She couldn’t help but wince at that remark, even trying as hard as she was to not react at all. Disappointing her was bad enough, but the idea of breaking her mother’s heart... for someone as emotionally sensitive as Essa, that was worse than a knife to the heart. She knew her mother wasn’t heartless. She might not be warm, but she loved her family fiercely. Essa just spent more time than not feeling as though she was separate of her family. As if she surely had to be someone else’s child, because there didn’t seem to be a shred of Tythra in her.
To be fierce, to the capable, and above all else... to be powerful.
There was much she was capable in, but none of those things mattered to her mother. She didn’t want a daughter who would be a good wife. She wanted a daughter to be a good leader in her own right. Someone who didn’t need a man, and who would be just as influential as her husband. That just wasn’t who Essa was. She had no fierceness within her. Or at least, not that she manifested in a way her mother saw suitable. She had fire, but hers was more passion than anything else. Passion for stories, for people, for fairness, for love. All things her mother found less than significant. Emotions were for the weak in her mother’s mind. Love wasn’t real, or at the least, it wasn’t important.
Yet Essa had always been the sort who was sensitive to all around her. Hearing someone be yelled at would have her acting as timid and guilty as the one in trouble. She could grow attached to just about anything or anyone. She valued servants and commoners as much as her noble peers. She was soft, and that might suit some, but not a Drakos.
What came next astounded her. “No!” she exclaimed softly, her head jerking up. This was her worst nightmare. She quickly restrained her expression, catching her breath and choosing a course of action. There had to be a way she could argue this, could explain, that would spare her the torture of accompanying her mother to political meetings day in and out.
“What I mean to say, Mother,” she began cautiously, “is that I fear that will not have the results you wish for, and I would hate to waste your most valuable time.” She paused a moment to sip at the tea, careful to hide her palms which were bloodstained from her nails. “Your example in both words and actions have been sufficient, I assure you. I realize today did not reflect that, but that is based on an entirely separate issue you see. You have prepared me quite well, truly. As you see in this very conversation.” Her dark eyes studied her mother, trying to gauge if her persuasion was having any effect at all.
“One on one conversations such as this are easy, and I do well in small groups as well. It is the crowd of court that I struggle with. So many voices at once, simultaneous conversations, the lack of personal space, the fast pace as people come and go, so many eyes on you at once... I find it terribly overwhelming. That is what makes me stumble and crumble apart with my errors - not any fault on your part.”
She bowed her head once more, though in a manner of humility rather than shame. “I know this is a weakness most unbecoming of a lady of Drakos and Kotas blood. I wish I understood its cause. But I know I can overcome it in due time. While accompanying you would be a most educational experience, I fear it will only confuse and frustrate matters between us all the more, as my performances appear even more contrary and disjointed.”
Now she looked up at her mother, meeting her eyes earnestly. “I love you dearly, Mother, and it wounds me deeply to disappoint you. I know your time is precious as you’re responsible for so much, and I would hate for our only limited time together as mother and daughter to be marred by constant conflict. If all goes well, I won’t have many more years left with you before I am wed. It would break my heart to be left with only memories of your displeasure.”
She offered her mother a sweet smile. “I know there is a way to overcome my fatal flaw and make you proud. I swear to you, I will persevere until I have found it. Nothing would please me more than to finally make you proud, Mama. I only hope I haven’t failed you so profoundly as to have shattered all your faith in me.”
Essa’s outburst was met with silence. A pin could drop and echo around the room. The silence was the type that would cause the skin to crawl. It was the type that caused the person to go over each and everything they did, down to the most minute detail. It was the type that was far too long. It was a silence she was well practiced with, a ploy she used in negotiations that caused those weaker than her to vastly doubt their worth and eventually cave to the woman’s desires. Tythra did not have a polite smile on her face any longer. It was neutral, steady. Her eyes never once left her daughter in this overly long silence. Not even for a second.
This, however, wasn’t a negotiation. Tythra would not be okay with just leaving things as they were and expecting Essa to fix her mistakes. That was Tythra’s expectations from the start, and clearly she could not meet those. But Tythra would not just give up on her daughter. She had every belief that Essa could flourish. She had empathy that would lead to understanding, and with proper care she could learn how to use that to her advantage instead of as a way to outlet her emotion. But this is was not something she would just pick up, not without training. Essa had made that abundantly clear time and time again.
Finally, after far too long, Tythra broke the silence. “You are correct that you would soon marry. But your role will not be of a common wife. You are special, Essa. You are my daughter. You are my legacy. And you will be the envy of women, just as I am, by showing the power you wield. You will not be a caretaker of a home. You will stand on equal footing of every man that comes your way. And you will do it with grace.”
Again, this was not a negotiation.
“Until the day you prove to me that you are every bit as capable as I, and able to bring the Drakos names to even greater heights,” For it would be Essa’s one day, while Imeeya rises in her own stature in another royal house, “I will not relent. You will be joining me in meetings, Essa. In fact, I have one tomorrow that you may join me in. You will be up and ready at dawn, for we have a long carriage ride ahead of us. I will go over the details with you as we ride.”
Tythra stood now at full height. Her tone was clear and authoritative. And she had a gaze that just dared Essa to try and rebel. Tythra may be a Princess in reality, but when it came to her own home she was the Queen. “Now, Essa, have I made myself clear?” Tythra asked, with one brow raised. “Because if so, I would get ready to go to bed early tonight. We have quite the morning ahead of us.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jul 17, 2020 13:34:31 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Jul 17, 2020 13:34:31 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Essa’s outburst was met with silence. A pin could drop and echo around the room. The silence was the type that would cause the skin to crawl. It was the type that caused the person to go over each and everything they did, down to the most minute detail. It was the type that was far too long. It was a silence she was well practiced with, a ploy she used in negotiations that caused those weaker than her to vastly doubt their worth and eventually cave to the woman’s desires. Tythra did not have a polite smile on her face any longer. It was neutral, steady. Her eyes never once left her daughter in this overly long silence. Not even for a second.
This, however, wasn’t a negotiation. Tythra would not be okay with just leaving things as they were and expecting Essa to fix her mistakes. That was Tythra’s expectations from the start, and clearly she could not meet those. But Tythra would not just give up on her daughter. She had every belief that Essa could flourish. She had empathy that would lead to understanding, and with proper care she could learn how to use that to her advantage instead of as a way to outlet her emotion. But this is was not something she would just pick up, not without training. Essa had made that abundantly clear time and time again.
Finally, after far too long, Tythra broke the silence. “You are correct that you would soon marry. But your role will not be of a common wife. You are special, Essa. You are my daughter. You are my legacy. And you will be the envy of women, just as I am, by showing the power you wield. You will not be a caretaker of a home. You will stand on equal footing of every man that comes your way. And you will do it with grace.”
Again, this was not a negotiation.
“Until the day you prove to me that you are every bit as capable as I, and able to bring the Drakos names to even greater heights,” For it would be Essa’s one day, while Imeeya rises in her own stature in another royal house, “I will not relent. You will be joining me in meetings, Essa. In fact, I have one tomorrow that you may join me in. You will be up and ready at dawn, for we have a long carriage ride ahead of us. I will go over the details with you as we ride.”
Tythra stood now at full height. Her tone was clear and authoritative. And she had a gaze that just dared Essa to try and rebel. Tythra may be a Princess in reality, but when it came to her own home she was the Queen. “Now, Essa, have I made myself clear?” Tythra asked, with one brow raised. “Because if so, I would get ready to go to bed early tonight. We have quite the morning ahead of us.”
Essa’s outburst was met with silence. A pin could drop and echo around the room. The silence was the type that would cause the skin to crawl. It was the type that caused the person to go over each and everything they did, down to the most minute detail. It was the type that was far too long. It was a silence she was well practiced with, a ploy she used in negotiations that caused those weaker than her to vastly doubt their worth and eventually cave to the woman’s desires. Tythra did not have a polite smile on her face any longer. It was neutral, steady. Her eyes never once left her daughter in this overly long silence. Not even for a second.
This, however, wasn’t a negotiation. Tythra would not be okay with just leaving things as they were and expecting Essa to fix her mistakes. That was Tythra’s expectations from the start, and clearly she could not meet those. But Tythra would not just give up on her daughter. She had every belief that Essa could flourish. She had empathy that would lead to understanding, and with proper care she could learn how to use that to her advantage instead of as a way to outlet her emotion. But this is was not something she would just pick up, not without training. Essa had made that abundantly clear time and time again.
Finally, after far too long, Tythra broke the silence. “You are correct that you would soon marry. But your role will not be of a common wife. You are special, Essa. You are my daughter. You are my legacy. And you will be the envy of women, just as I am, by showing the power you wield. You will not be a caretaker of a home. You will stand on equal footing of every man that comes your way. And you will do it with grace.”
Again, this was not a negotiation.
“Until the day you prove to me that you are every bit as capable as I, and able to bring the Drakos names to even greater heights,” For it would be Essa’s one day, while Imeeya rises in her own stature in another royal house, “I will not relent. You will be joining me in meetings, Essa. In fact, I have one tomorrow that you may join me in. You will be up and ready at dawn, for we have a long carriage ride ahead of us. I will go over the details with you as we ride.”
Tythra stood now at full height. Her tone was clear and authoritative. And she had a gaze that just dared Essa to try and rebel. Tythra may be a Princess in reality, but when it came to her own home she was the Queen. “Now, Essa, have I made myself clear?” Tythra asked, with one brow raised. “Because if so, I would get ready to go to bed early tonight. We have quite the morning ahead of us.”
It was clear that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears as silence settled over them. The sort designed to make her squirm. She fought that instinct tooth and nail, trying to keep her head high and her body still rather than betray her discomfort. But her mother knew best, and eventually she bowed her head in defeat. She had been a fool to even try in truth. Her mother may be Colchis’s Princess, but within the walls of their home, she was every bit a Queen.
By the time Tythra spoke, all hope had drained from her daughter. With every word her mother spoke, Essa felt herself shrinking more and more, until she felt no taller than the teacup before her. She would be made in her mother’s image, or she would cease to exist at all it seemed. Her mother would never be content to accept Essa as she was. This was not a discussion of what a mother hoped for her child. It was a reminder that she would settle for nothing else. Certainly nothing less.
Less was all that Essa could seem to muster.
There was no convincing to be done. No negotiating. No requests. Only the facts as Tythra of Drakos decided they would be.
Once, Essa might have cried to hear such a declaration, but now, she couldn’t even summon the strength to produce tears. She was defeated, humiliated, and cowed. It was for the best. Better to feel numb and hollow than to cry in front of the head of Drakos. Moments like these, she couldn’t feel any less her mother’s child. No wonder Tythra didn’t seem to hear her - they were worlds apart it seemed.
She dared lift her eyes only as her mother’s words demanded answer, only to see her mother towering over her, leaving Essa to feel more diminutive than ever. “Yes, Mother,” she answered obediently, meekly. There was no choice. Merely the words expected of her. She was nothing more than a puppet, an empty vessel for her mother’s will. Nothing mattered beyond that.
“I understand.”
With that, she rose, forcing herself to her feet, hands clasped before her. The words came easily, even if she felt entirely detached from reality as a swirl of ominous doom rose within to claim her once more. There was no escape, no hope for her. Merely acceptance. “You’re right, of course. I would be a fool to ignore your wisdom. I should prepare for the morning then, if there is nothing further you require?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Oct 16, 2020 2:14:54 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Oct 16, 2020 2:14:54 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was clear that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears as silence settled over them. The sort designed to make her squirm. She fought that instinct tooth and nail, trying to keep her head high and her body still rather than betray her discomfort. But her mother knew best, and eventually she bowed her head in defeat. She had been a fool to even try in truth. Her mother may be Colchis’s Princess, but within the walls of their home, she was every bit a Queen.
By the time Tythra spoke, all hope had drained from her daughter. With every word her mother spoke, Essa felt herself shrinking more and more, until she felt no taller than the teacup before her. She would be made in her mother’s image, or she would cease to exist at all it seemed. Her mother would never be content to accept Essa as she was. This was not a discussion of what a mother hoped for her child. It was a reminder that she would settle for nothing else. Certainly nothing less.
Less was all that Essa could seem to muster.
There was no convincing to be done. No negotiating. No requests. Only the facts as Tythra of Drakos decided they would be.
Once, Essa might have cried to hear such a declaration, but now, she couldn’t even summon the strength to produce tears. She was defeated, humiliated, and cowed. It was for the best. Better to feel numb and hollow than to cry in front of the head of Drakos. Moments like these, she couldn’t feel any less her mother’s child. No wonder Tythra didn’t seem to hear her - they were worlds apart it seemed.
She dared lift her eyes only as her mother’s words demanded answer, only to see her mother towering over her, leaving Essa to feel more diminutive than ever. “Yes, Mother,” she answered obediently, meekly. There was no choice. Merely the words expected of her. She was nothing more than a puppet, an empty vessel for her mother’s will. Nothing mattered beyond that.
“I understand.”
With that, she rose, forcing herself to her feet, hands clasped before her. The words came easily, even if she felt entirely detached from reality as a swirl of ominous doom rose within to claim her once more. There was no escape, no hope for her. Merely acceptance. “You’re right, of course. I would be a fool to ignore your wisdom. I should prepare for the morning then, if there is nothing further you require?”
It was clear that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears as silence settled over them. The sort designed to make her squirm. She fought that instinct tooth and nail, trying to keep her head high and her body still rather than betray her discomfort. But her mother knew best, and eventually she bowed her head in defeat. She had been a fool to even try in truth. Her mother may be Colchis’s Princess, but within the walls of their home, she was every bit a Queen.
By the time Tythra spoke, all hope had drained from her daughter. With every word her mother spoke, Essa felt herself shrinking more and more, until she felt no taller than the teacup before her. She would be made in her mother’s image, or she would cease to exist at all it seemed. Her mother would never be content to accept Essa as she was. This was not a discussion of what a mother hoped for her child. It was a reminder that she would settle for nothing else. Certainly nothing less.
Less was all that Essa could seem to muster.
There was no convincing to be done. No negotiating. No requests. Only the facts as Tythra of Drakos decided they would be.
Once, Essa might have cried to hear such a declaration, but now, she couldn’t even summon the strength to produce tears. She was defeated, humiliated, and cowed. It was for the best. Better to feel numb and hollow than to cry in front of the head of Drakos. Moments like these, she couldn’t feel any less her mother’s child. No wonder Tythra didn’t seem to hear her - they were worlds apart it seemed.
She dared lift her eyes only as her mother’s words demanded answer, only to see her mother towering over her, leaving Essa to feel more diminutive than ever. “Yes, Mother,” she answered obediently, meekly. There was no choice. Merely the words expected of her. She was nothing more than a puppet, an empty vessel for her mother’s will. Nothing mattered beyond that.
“I understand.”
With that, she rose, forcing herself to her feet, hands clasped before her. The words came easily, even if she felt entirely detached from reality as a swirl of ominous doom rose within to claim her once more. There was no escape, no hope for her. Merely acceptance. “You’re right, of course. I would be a fool to ignore your wisdom. I should prepare for the morning then, if there is nothing further you require?”
If Thesus could see this now… The conversation would have gone very differently. He’d have argued with Tythra, coddled Essa, and make some silly joke that would have caused Tythra to drop her composure for just a second. That moment’s weakness is when he would have gone for the attack and Essa would have likely had a slap on the wrist. Thesus would have been the one in real trouble.
The girls would have grown up so differently if their father was around. They’d be softer, more delicate… ladylike. They would be marriageable, and would probably be able to run a good home and fill it with happy children. They would smile more often and have much more empathy in their heart. They would be… Drakos girls, and differ from their Kotas cousins in many ways.
Did this make Tythra selfish- the fact that she wanted more for her daughters? She didn’t want them to be simply marriageable. This power that Tythra had, one that was typically not awarded to any females… she didn’t want it to end with Tythra. Women were intelligent, women were strong, and she raised her daughters to be just that. She knew they could do it. She knew her daughters weren’t just wives meant for some lord; Her daughters were leaders.
This was perhaps the only silver lining Tythra could find in the death of Thesus. Had he still be alive, Tythra would be a wife to some lord. Her daughters would be wives to some lord. Now the Drakos women had the opportunity to flourish. They had the chance to show Colchis- no, everyone what women were truly capable of. Imeeya understood this. Essa… maybe not yet.
Tythra knew she was harsh when it came to her youngest daughter, but it was only out of love. Tythra would kill for Imeeya and Essa. She would lay down her own life just so that those two could succeed. She wanted them to be happy, powerful, rich, and respected. Essa most likely didn’t understand this. Tythra certainly didn’t when she was a child listening to her mother. She grew up thinking she would never be like Queen Kaiti. And as time went on, Tythra realized she was more like her than anyone else. Her legacy lived on in Tythra, and it would continue to do so with Essa and Imeeya she was sure.
Essa would come to understand… when Tythra was long dead, probably, but she would. She would understand that this was a mother’s love, a Kotas’s love, and that things may be difficult now but in the future when she is on her own without a mother to lean on… she would be able to stand strong. Essa and Imeeya are warriors, just as Tythra wanted them to be. So with a gentle hand on her daughter’s back, and the smile on her face she said, “No, there is nothing more, Essa. Let’s go rest. We have a very busy day ahead of us.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Oct 16, 2020 16:07:31 GMT
Posted In Expectations on Oct 16, 2020 16:07:31 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
If Thesus could see this now… The conversation would have gone very differently. He’d have argued with Tythra, coddled Essa, and make some silly joke that would have caused Tythra to drop her composure for just a second. That moment’s weakness is when he would have gone for the attack and Essa would have likely had a slap on the wrist. Thesus would have been the one in real trouble.
The girls would have grown up so differently if their father was around. They’d be softer, more delicate… ladylike. They would be marriageable, and would probably be able to run a good home and fill it with happy children. They would smile more often and have much more empathy in their heart. They would be… Drakos girls, and differ from their Kotas cousins in many ways.
Did this make Tythra selfish- the fact that she wanted more for her daughters? She didn’t want them to be simply marriageable. This power that Tythra had, one that was typically not awarded to any females… she didn’t want it to end with Tythra. Women were intelligent, women were strong, and she raised her daughters to be just that. She knew they could do it. She knew her daughters weren’t just wives meant for some lord; Her daughters were leaders.
This was perhaps the only silver lining Tythra could find in the death of Thesus. Had he still be alive, Tythra would be a wife to some lord. Her daughters would be wives to some lord. Now the Drakos women had the opportunity to flourish. They had the chance to show Colchis- no, everyone what women were truly capable of. Imeeya understood this. Essa… maybe not yet.
Tythra knew she was harsh when it came to her youngest daughter, but it was only out of love. Tythra would kill for Imeeya and Essa. She would lay down her own life just so that those two could succeed. She wanted them to be happy, powerful, rich, and respected. Essa most likely didn’t understand this. Tythra certainly didn’t when she was a child listening to her mother. She grew up thinking she would never be like Queen Kaiti. And as time went on, Tythra realized she was more like her than anyone else. Her legacy lived on in Tythra, and it would continue to do so with Essa and Imeeya she was sure.
Essa would come to understand… when Tythra was long dead, probably, but she would. She would understand that this was a mother’s love, a Kotas’s love, and that things may be difficult now but in the future when she is on her own without a mother to lean on… she would be able to stand strong. Essa and Imeeya are warriors, just as Tythra wanted them to be. So with a gentle hand on her daughter’s back, and the smile on her face she said, “No, there is nothing more, Essa. Let’s go rest. We have a very busy day ahead of us.”
If Thesus could see this now… The conversation would have gone very differently. He’d have argued with Tythra, coddled Essa, and make some silly joke that would have caused Tythra to drop her composure for just a second. That moment’s weakness is when he would have gone for the attack and Essa would have likely had a slap on the wrist. Thesus would have been the one in real trouble.
The girls would have grown up so differently if their father was around. They’d be softer, more delicate… ladylike. They would be marriageable, and would probably be able to run a good home and fill it with happy children. They would smile more often and have much more empathy in their heart. They would be… Drakos girls, and differ from their Kotas cousins in many ways.
Did this make Tythra selfish- the fact that she wanted more for her daughters? She didn’t want them to be simply marriageable. This power that Tythra had, one that was typically not awarded to any females… she didn’t want it to end with Tythra. Women were intelligent, women were strong, and she raised her daughters to be just that. She knew they could do it. She knew her daughters weren’t just wives meant for some lord; Her daughters were leaders.
This was perhaps the only silver lining Tythra could find in the death of Thesus. Had he still be alive, Tythra would be a wife to some lord. Her daughters would be wives to some lord. Now the Drakos women had the opportunity to flourish. They had the chance to show Colchis- no, everyone what women were truly capable of. Imeeya understood this. Essa… maybe not yet.
Tythra knew she was harsh when it came to her youngest daughter, but it was only out of love. Tythra would kill for Imeeya and Essa. She would lay down her own life just so that those two could succeed. She wanted them to be happy, powerful, rich, and respected. Essa most likely didn’t understand this. Tythra certainly didn’t when she was a child listening to her mother. She grew up thinking she would never be like Queen Kaiti. And as time went on, Tythra realized she was more like her than anyone else. Her legacy lived on in Tythra, and it would continue to do so with Essa and Imeeya she was sure.
Essa would come to understand… when Tythra was long dead, probably, but she would. She would understand that this was a mother’s love, a Kotas’s love, and that things may be difficult now but in the future when she is on her own without a mother to lean on… she would be able to stand strong. Essa and Imeeya are warriors, just as Tythra wanted them to be. So with a gentle hand on her daughter’s back, and the smile on her face she said, “No, there is nothing more, Essa. Let’s go rest. We have a very busy day ahead of us.”