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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

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Axelle D'Orsay

2 replies to this topic

#1 Axelle D'Orsay

  • Star-crossed

Sureau Assassin
  • Age28

  • Relationship StatusSingle

  • OriginPort Tresteau Outskirts

  • Allomantic StatusHidden

Posted 24 April 2018 - 03:02 AM


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Name/Handle: Mora
Contact: PM Works

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Name: Axelle D'Orsay
Type: Noble (in practice; half-blood in reality)
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Place of Origin: Port Tresteau Outskirts, Southern Dominance
Occupation: Noble; Riding Instructor; Lead of D'Orsay Messenger Service
Relationship Status: [Officially] Single; ending a secret affair

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Type of Powers: Misting
Metals Used: Tin
Degree of Skill: Advanced
Status: Hidden

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More often than not, those blue eyes are filled with laughter and energy. Axelle has a hunger for life and it is obvious to most who get a look at her eyes. Smiles come easily to her pale pink lips, the expression giving her a warm, approachable air. While her sunkissed face is attractive by conventional standards, her wrappings aren't generally considered such as she's more likely dressed in a shirt and slacks when at the family manor or working with the horses. Her upper-back length deep brown hair is often tied back in a braid or twisted into a bun while working, but she tends to set it free and finger comb it when pursuing leisure activities. A true D'Orsay, she keeps her nails short, and her hands are rougher than expected for a noblewoman.

At 28, she's fully settled into her face and body, the changes of youth behind her, but still years away from wrinkles and age spots. At her full height, she's 5' 6.5", neither tall nor short. Her build is slender, but shapely, her small waist a point of contrast to the curves of her hips and chest. She isn't particularly modest, or embarrassed of her body but she generally doesn't make an effort to play up her curves. She hasn't had any reason to. She prefers an easy, effortless style.

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Being adopted into the main branch of House D'Orsay gave Axelle opportunities to grow and develop in a way that she might not have had otherwise. Growing well into womanhood without entering into an arranged marriage also had a big impact on who she is.

Whispers of "old maid" don't begin to do Axelle justice.

And they don't ruffle her either.

Her twenty-eight years is a matter of fact, like the fact that her eyes are blue. She's accepting of it. It isn't something she's ashamed of or something she'd change. That time allowed her to grow into herself and, more importantly, to grow comfortable with herself - her personality and her appearance. She's not afraid to speak up and say what she thinks (with one key exception: telling Lord Alain how she still feels about Pearce). Her silver tongue might win you over to her side in an argument or win your admiration with a bit of charm. She's also a capable flirt. While she can't sense emotions like Soothers and Rioters, her burning tin allows her to notice the tiniest twitch of lips, movement of the eyes, or change in posture - helping her read people.

Like the rest of the D'Orsay family, Axelle is rough around the edges compared to much of the nobility. She's pragmatic, capable, and not afraid of rolling up her sleeves and doing hard work - even if that means pitching in on something beyond her skill set. She takes great pride in her messenger service, which includes discretion as part of the package. While she can be very serious about work and family matters, she also has a sense of adventure and a sense of humor.

She prefers her riding clothes to dresses and stuffier frocks. She also knows how to have fun, and isn't as inhibited as ladies who are worried about getting wrinkles in their skirts or having a hair fall out of place. Thankfully, those aren't things that bother most D'Orsays, and she isn't considered improper by their standards. She enjoys bucking some aspects of convention, especially as a woman - she knows she lives freer than many others.

Axelle is confident in her abilities as an equestrian. She loves the feel of the wind on her face when she rides; it's the closest thing to flying she's ever felt. It's one of her favorite things to do. Her tin has given her an advantage in reading and communicating with the horses as she can notice even the tiniest movement or sense of hesitation on their part.

She has a sense of duty to her family, of being indebted to them for taking her in after the death of her parents. She is loyal to them and wants to always be a contributor to the family, rather than a drain. She loves each of them, and feels loved by them in return.

But her love for Pearce is the strongest force in her life. Despite being forbidden from having a romantic relationship with Pearce, she's been unable to deny him. They've been having a secret affair for the last eight years. They've managed to hide their feelings for each other in public, and they learned how to sneak about their manor over time.

When it comes to skaa, she doesn't have strong feelings. She doesn't hate them for being born into their class or race. On the contrary, she can appreciate their work as she has an appreciation for hard work and the fruits of those labors.

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Special Skills: Reading, Writing, Horseback Riding, Keen Observation, Basic Self Defense, Navigation, Silver Tongue, Sneaking

Axelle is confident, and self-possessed.The opinions of strangers on her age, appearance, or lack of husband don't matter at all to her. Verbal barbs about her external traits won't cut her. She's not afraid to be different or to go against the grain of convention.

She also has no expectations beyond being able to continue living with and working for the main branch of House D'Orsay. She isn't going to Luthadel in search of a husband, so she isn't carrying any hope or anticipation on that front. She's accepted that the rest of her life will likely be a solitary one. This belief has freed her from the idea that she needs to go out and impress people beyond showing off the equestrian skills of her House.

Her skill has a Tineye has made her very good at reading people, based on detecting the tiniest hints of their feelings on their face, bodies, and in their voice. This has served her well in interactions with others both inside and outside of her family.

Above all, Pearce is her weakness. Her love for him has pushed her to defy her guardian, to sneak around and put on a false front. She finds it very hard to deny him anything, but she knows their time is coming to an end . . . and that is a great source of private pain and sadness. Though she's accepted a solitary future, she has yet to truly experience that in practice. She knows that will be hard . . . and it will be even harder to watch Pearce love another.

The secret of their affair is a weakness . . . if it gets into the wrong hands it could ruin their family.

The guilt that comes from it is also an issue for Axelle. She feels she owes her guardian so much . . . yet she's repeatedly defied him day after day. She feels indebted to her guardian, and family, and would do almost anything for them, including putting herself in harm's way.

While Axelle is willing to defend herself in a fight, she hasn't had extensive training in how to do that. She has a basic grasp of self defense and generally needs to rely on her speed - and that of her horse - to get her away from an unsafe situation.

Even though Axelle is unaware of her true parentage, the fact that she's actually a half-blood is also a weakness. If that knowledge got out it would put her and Lord Alain in danger . . . and even if it didn't reach Inquisitor ears, it could certainly shake her identity. The fact that she's actually Pearce's sister rather than distant cousin is the kind of knowledge that would cut deeply . . . maybe even destroy her.

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In the frigid dark of a winter's night in 890, the blessed sound of a newborn's crying cut through the sounds of pain, struggle, and hushed anticipation to bring a moment of relief and joy, to the group of skaa workers huddled together in a hovel on the D'Orsay holdings in the Southern Dominance. Mace, a tiny boy of one, was introduced to his baby sister. He reached out and touched her tiny fingers, even smaller than his own. Shortly after, all the skaa clustered together there were clapping Rian on the back and congratulating him on the birth of his second child, while Faye nursed her newborn daughter.

But the celebration of new life was short-lived.

Lord Alain had been keeping tabs on Faye, watching her belly swell with his child. He did not see her in the fields as usual. He asked after her and learned of the girl's birth the night before. Lady Florence had extended a few days of rest to all new mothers following her own difficulties with childbirth; Faye was taking advantage of her generosity.

Alain made his way to the hovel, where he promptly found Faye, the newborn and her one year-old. He ripped the nursing child from his mother's breast and beheld her tiny face whilst she wailed in the heartbreaking tones, and her older brother mirrored her pain with tears of his own. Faye stretched out both hands and begged for her child back, but Alain barely heard the commotion.

His. She was absolutely his. She was scarcely a day old and yet he saw the D'Orsay features there, beyond the dark brown hair and blue eyes, the shape of her lips, her chin, her tiny nose and even her eyebrows had the marks of his bloodline. He had a daughter now.

His lips spread into a smile, whilst the crying and begging continued. His seeker's senses felt something more. Burning. The newborn had been sufficiently traumatized to snap. Gently, lovingly, he tapped her nose with his index finger.

"You are special, little one," he crooned into her red, crying face.

"M'Lord, please, please, she's hungry."

"So she is," he glanced back at his sometimes lover. She looked both exhausted and terrified. Not at all the enticing piece of flesh he knew she could be. She'd bounce back, like she had after her first child.

"You may feed my child," he said, handing the baby back slowly, reluctantly. He smiled as the crying faded into quiet as the child sought nourishment.

"Her name is Axelle," he declared, gently touching the top of her little head. Faye didn't argue, she just looked at him, breathing, trying not to cry. "I will be back for her before the Mists come."

"Please," Faye stretched out an arm and grabbed a tail of his coat, full of the motherly instinct that urged her to hold onto her little one. "I promise I'll take good care of your daughter," her words were wracked by sobs.

The nobleman turned back to the young mother, he brushed his fingers down the side of her face, the path of his touch not unlike that of the tears falling from her eyes.

"You know I can take better care of her," he said softly, "that I can give her everything she could ever want." He pressed a single finger to her lovely, trembling lips. "You should be thanking me, Faye, not fighting me. Our daughter will have the best I can give."

Later that afternoon, Lord Alain arrived by coach with his trusted steward, and the family physician. The child was again ripped away from her mother, hidden in what looked like the large case of instruments the doctor always took with him. Then she was away, placed in the carriage that had bought the nobles, her mother and brother wailing again.

Faye was warned not to talk. To let it be. To agree on the story that her newborn hadn't survived her first days, that she'd been sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling with breath, until it just stopped, as sometimes happened to newborns . . .

That was the only way. For Mace's own safety. For Rian's. And for the child she hadn't properly named, but called "my" over and over from the time Lord Alain had left her home until he came back and took her.

My daughter. My baby. My, my, my . . .

Faye couldn't hold out under the pressure, for when she seemed hysterical, for when she looked like she hadn't unlearned the truth, Lord D'Orsay reminded her of the power he had over her life. That she was kept under the same roof, on the same estate as her husband because he allowed it. That her son also resided here because he had no wish to separate them. And the truth, the ugly truth hovered over her, even though she didn't like it . . . Her daughter would be spared a life of hardship and heartbreak . . . she'd never have to give up her own child one day because she was born with the wrong kind of blood in her veins.

So Faye shoved the lie down her throat and swallowed it, so she'd be able to spew it again and again and again.

Three nights later, House D'Orsay received an unexpected visitor, with news of a carriage crash, and the loss of distant cousins on their way to visit . . . and the unexpected rescue of a baby girl.

Florence melted immediately at the sight of the child, and took her into her arms as though she were always meant to be there. The daughter she'd never had. And so it was with no resistance that Lord Alain's illegitimate daughter became his ward.

True to his word, Lord Alain treated Axelle like he treated his legitimate children. She was given first class private tutors alongside her "cousins," and trained in the trades and customs of their house. In true D'Orsay fashion, Axelle grew up more likely to wear pants than dresses, and completely comfortable getting dirty out in the fields or on the track. Her talent for riding became apparent while she was still a small child, and she grew into one of the finest - and fastest - in the family. Her gift as a Tineye also wasn't overlooked. Lord Alain had her trained in that art as well, bringing in a practiced Misting from one of the lesser branches of the family.

* * *

While Axelle had a good relationship with each of her cousins, her relationship with Pearce was special. Rather than acting as a protective older brother, Pearce, two years her senior, was her best friend from the beginning. They two of them were inseparable, playing tag throughout the manor, racing through the fields, and horseback riding along the trails. They grew into teenagers together, and the changes that came with with those years altered the course of their relationship. They experimented together, discovered together, and they ceased looking at each other as just friends.

Some of those feelings must've found their way to Pearce's face, because Lord Alain took notice. He started paying closer attention to Pearce outside of his studies, and his training in the farriery arm of the family business. It wasn't long before he caught them. Axelle had warned that she'd heard someone coming, but Pearce brushed it off as skaa stablehands going about their work. One minute he had Axelle pressed to the wall of the hayloft, his lips moving along her neck, his fingers unbuttoning her blouse. The next, he was ripped away by his shirt collar, his father gripping the garment with both hands and screaming into his face over and over, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Tears fell like a heavy rain down Axelle's face, as she scrambled to fix her shirt. Half-choked, Pearce told his father they were in love. Lord Alain yelled that she wasn't an option, that he would marry to further the interests of their house . . . and that they were cousins, besides. Pearce spat that they were distant relations with barely a drop of blood between them. Then Alain started to ask how far things had gone, but he didn't need to finish the question for Pearce to defiantly reply that they'd done it. He had thought admitting it would help the case for their eventual marriage.

Enraged, Lord Alain punched his seventeen year-old son in the face and broke his nose, whilst screaming that Pearce had "ruined" her. The shock of red on his son's face kept him from landing another blow. Spitting blood and unable to speak properly, Pearce said that he wanted to marry her. Alain ordered Axelle to go back to her room with the assurance that they'd head back shortly. She'd never seen him so angry in her life. In that moment, she was too shocked to argue, so she obeyed the man who'd taken her in and given her everything.

Lady Florence came across the shaking Axelle in their main hall, and soon the details were pouring out of her. She was apologized repeatedly and begged her other guardian to calm down Lord Alain, to send her away, to do whatever it took to make sure Pearce was okay and that he was forgiven. She told her she feared for his safety, that he needed his nose looked at, that her Lord had never been so angry.

The Lady of the House sent Axelle to her room, but promised that she'd take care of everything and that Pearce would be fine.

True to her word, Lady Florence did calm her husband down. She framed the situation just as she saw it. Pearce was a young man, with the normal, healthy energies and urges that came with growing up - not so different from Alain himself when he was younger. Axelle was the only girl around his age that he spent a lot of time with. He merely needed his energies and attentions redirected and the problem would fix itself. He'd get over his first love, learn to manage his lust, and follow through on whatever marriage arrangement they eventually made.

Lord Alain thought his wife's assessment and advice were wise. Over breakfast the next day, he announced that Pearce would be doing an apprenticeship in farriery with one of the lesser branches of their House, in the Western Dominance. They'd leave tomorrow. He'd travel with his son and see him settled in before returning home.

The news hurt them both, but the fact that they were being separated wasn't a surprise. The surprise was that Pearce was the one being sent away.

That last day under the same roof wasn't spent the way they would've chosen. Pearce was occupied with packing, his father personally overseeing some of it. Her other cousins went riding with her, presumably on her guardian's orders to keep her busy . . . and away from Pearce.

But before the red sun started its descent in the sky, he made his way to stand near the stables. She was a ways off, with Constantin and Francois riding at her sides, but there was no mistaking the shape of him. She burned tin, like he knew she would, and she could see his face clearly, and she could hear the whisper meant only for her ears.

"I love you. The distance won't change that."

She wanted to cry. But she wouldn't dare. Not with her cousins beside her. So she put a hand over her heart, even though he probably couldn't see it.

* * *

Life trotted forward. She missed Pearce constantly, but being a D'Orsay meant working hard everyday. She couldn't just lock herself in her room and wallow in her grief. She started giving riding lessons to noble children and teenagers. She also gave riding demonstrations and participated in horse races as a jockey; her smaller stature and lighter weight gave her an advantage over riders like her cousin Constantin. Along the way, thanks to her speed, she started running messages for her guardians. At the age of sixteen, she had turned it into a business, her own little piece of the D'Orsay portfolio. Constantin led horse breeding and training. Francois led the design and construction of carriages, carts, palanquins, and saddles. And over in the Western Dominance, Pearce led the work at the forges.

He wrote to the family every week in a single letter meant for all of them. He seemed to be doing well, working hard, but also attending various social engagements, where he met a long list of blue-blooded ladies. It bit at her, but she didn't let it show. She tried to swallow it down, to accept what her guardian had said, that she wasn't an option for Pearce in the first place. But she remembered his parting message of love, and her own feelings never faded.

Axelle grew up with the belief that her worth was tied to her contributions to the House - to their businesses, but also to the family unit itself. Even though she was a ward, she was loved and treated as a daughter, and mirroring that love and appreciation through respect and obedience was important. Despite that word uttered in anger, she didn't feel that her worth - or that of her cousins - rested on a marriage contract. She recognized those arrangements as tools to further their standing and expand their businesses, but she saw that their true value rested within each of them as individuals.

There was something freeing about that.

She didn't fret about making herself look as attractive as possible. She didn't cast off her riding clothes to wear the latest fashion; she dressed for the task at hand. She learned her own mind and felt free to voice her opinions in open family discussions. She developed a sharp tongue and a quick wit. As she aged, she developed a quiet confidence that came with knowing she was loved just as she was. She accepted her flaws and recognized her assets as well.

* * *

She was twenty when Pearce moved back home. In those five years apart he'd transformed from a slender youth to a solidly built man, the effects of his work at the forges apparent in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He'd only grown more handsome since she'd seen him last, and setting eyes on him brought back all the feelings she'd tried to bury. But she kept control of herself. She was a grown woman now, and she was determined to be a good ward, as she'd already caused too much pain.

Pearce was also on his best behavior. The reunion dinner passed without incident, without any indication that her childhood sweetheart had done anything other than move on. But when she'd returned to her room, he was already there, waiting for her.

"If you are here to tell tales of your conquests, I think Francois would be a better audience," she said taking off her stud earrings and dropping them into a small crystal bowl on her dressing table with a pair of clinks. She looked at him, with steel in her eyes as she willed herself to be strong.

He didn't shrink under her gaze. Instead he approached, his eyes unfaltering.

"I'm here to tell you that nothing has changed," he took her hand in his and kissed it. "Except that I've learned how to love you better." He moved in closer, unafraid, unintimidated. "If you still feel the same."

Her heartbeat took off, her emotions flowing through her like a rushing river.

"What of all the fine ladies you've mentioned in your letters?" she inquired, with a raised brow, her face still absent of hope and affection.

He let out a low laugh. "None of them are you. Many shied away from picnics in the grass, afraid to get dirt - or a bug - on their skirts. Most think horses are dreadful, smelly beasts. Some can't take a joke. Others try too hard. Everyone I've met has only reinforced how perfect you are."

"Am I not ruined?" she asked, the word like lead on her tongue, her eyes shining.

His smile faded faded at that, his voice turned serious. "There is nothing that could ruin you for me."

Bold hands found her waist, like they'd never left, and he pressed his nose to hers, breathing her in.

"You'll be married off to someone else," she whispered, as though either of them had forgotten Lord Alain's words that night.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Father doesn't seem like he's in a rush to finalize those arrangements. But even if I am . . . it wouldn't be for love. Most people . . . they don't ever get to feel this. But I feel it, and I know you feel it, too. We should hold on to it for as long as we can . . . And if we're lucky," he brushed back some dark strands that had escaped her braid. "If we're lucky, that could be forever."

All the strength she'd gathered to resist him drained away, and as important as it was to obey her guardian, to respect his wishes, she couldn't pull back. Even though she knew forever wouldn't be theirs, she couldn't refuse him now. When he brushed his lips against her own, she melted, and kissed him back. Pulses quickened and kisses deepened, as they began to express five years of missing each other.

With some effort, Axelle managed to pull back, panting. "We can't get caught."

"We won't. I will not wear my heart on my sleeve. I will not give him any reason to suspect."

He moved his face closer to hers, but she quirked a brow. "And?"

"And when my Tineye says someone is coming, I will listen," he smiled.

Axelle smiled back. "Good."

* * *

They had eight years of loving each other in secret, and of drinking herbal tonics to ensure their secret never impacted more than the two of them. But Lord Alain has decided to take the family to Luthadel, to find suitable matches for his unmarried sons. Axelle has been tasked with helping find ladies who would make them happy, and burning tin to hear the whispers, as Lord Alain works on the politics and business associated with the decisions.

Pearce still hasn't given up on the possibility of remaining with Axelle.

Axelle's heart is breaking, but she is trying to focus on gratitude for the year's she's had with Pearce. It is her love for him, and for their family, that motivates her to help find the best match possible for him . . . someone deserving of him. For her own part, she has no expectation of ever being married as societal standards are not as kind to older unwed women. That doesn't bother her or rattle her confidence as she doesn't need a husband to be a whole person. She sees her path as continuing to serve her family, and contribute to their businesses.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Axelle, her mother has taken ill. Believing she is not long for this world, Faye told her family the truth about the daughter she'd lost and communicated her dying wish: for one of her children to tell Axelle, and for Axelle to be brought to visit her bedside before she breathes her last.

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Riding lessons complete for the day, Axelle made her way back to her rooms. She entered and shut the door, breathing for a moment as she pressed her fingers against the dark wood. Pearce came up behind her, nuzzled his nose against her neck, and then planted a gentle kiss there. He started undoing the braid in her hair, setting wavy tendrils of brown hair free to flow down her upper back.

"You can't do this when we're in Luthadel," she said softly, her blue eyes watery with the knowledge that this might be the last time he greeted her this way, the last time she felt his hands on her. His hands moved to her hips and she laced her fingers through his own.

Lord Ruler she loved those hands. Rough, hard-working hands with a gentle touch.

"We're not there yet," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her skin. "We should try to get our fill of each other." He kissed her ear, the sensation flaring across her body, far beyond the spot where his lips and tongue touched her. "Even though such a thing isn't possible."

Axelle was sure it wasn't possible. She'd been trying to for the last few years, as each day, each week, each month took them closer to the day he'd eventually be married off to someone else. She'd never grown tired or bored of him. Never wanted his hands anywhere but on her.

She mustered what strength she could, slid her hands from his own, and turned to face him.

"That won't make this easier on either of us."

Looking up into his handsome face, his laughing eyes, she knew they were both far beyond anything remotely easy. They had leaned into a doomed relationship, and their love had only grown with age. Easier was long gone. It might've never existed at all.

"Then run away with me." He was smiling, his eyes still full of laughter, yet she knew he meant it. It wasn't the first time he'd made this offer.

"We can't," she said shaking her head and covering her eyes with a hand.

"We have skills, we could get jobs. We won't be beholden to my father," he gently pulled her hand away from her face, so he could see her. He knew she was weak when he looked at her like that, with his heart on his sleeve. He didn't let go.

"We already are, Pearce. He is your father, and he has been one to me, he's given me a life - my whole life. I owe him everything." It wasn't a new response. She'd felt indebted to Lord Alain since she was a small child. It was a feeling that would never go away, no matter what she did, no matter how well she served the family. It was the reason she walked with guilt weighing her down every single day. Because she knew she was disobeying him with every breath she took, every thought of Pearce, every secret smile, every kiss . . .

She couldn't get in the way now, when he'd decided to make the most important decision of Pearce's life . . .

"He gave you your life so you could live it, Axelle. Not so you could give it away, so you could be a martyr for his cause."

She had to help instead. To do as she was told. To help locate someone who could make Pearce happy, give him everything she was forbidden to.

She swallowed. "He asked me to help find someone suitable for you . . ."

"You're still intent on accepting his will in this, in us?"

"I don't see a choice," her voice was brittle, but determination hardened her face. They'd always been on borrowed time. They knew that from the moment she'd found Pearce in her room, after he'd finally returned home after five years.

"There's always a choice, Axelle. It's a matter of accepting the price. I am willing to give up my name, my title, my ho-"

He'd been so devoted. Through everything. After years he returned to her with even more love in his heart than when he'd left. She didn't want to give him up. She was horrified at the thought of seeing him with someone else, with watching another woman make him happy, make him smile . . . bear him children. She imagined it was like shards of glass being forced through her still beating heart. She already felt the sting just thinking about it.

"I'm doing this for you, Pearce. I'm saying no, for you. Because I love you and this is what is best for you, because you shouldn't ha-"

He closed the gap that had opened up between them and interrupted her self-righteous speech with a deep kiss. She didn't fight against him or pull away as the seconds slipped away, and his hands found her waist.

How on earth was she going to give this up? Give him up? She wasn't sure where she'd find the strength.

His breathing was heavy when he moved his lips from hers.

"Then be my mistress. If you have given up on me as a husband, consider remaining my lover."

Axelle opened her mouth to object, to say no, she wouldn't, she wouldn't do that to another woman, that she'd just be grateful for the time they'd had, but he put a finger to her lip and said, "don't answer, just think about it." Then he was kissing her again, and tugging off her jacket.

He was too close too see the tears pooling in her eyes.

Just this once more.

This will be the last time I get to love him.

Edited by Mora, 24 April 2018 - 05:55 PM.

#2 Moru


Posted 05 May 2018 - 02:57 AM

I really like Axelle's character conflicts and how she's going to stand out in Luthadel, and how little she cares. It's great.

I have no other notes, so she's Accepted!

one more to go :)

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#3 KChan

Atium Chandelier

Posted 11 May 2018 - 10:52 PM

What a great history. Very well done! Approved!

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