And I Will Make Thee Sepulchres of Roses
By
Angelsilhouette,
Posted on: 2006-12-05 12:30 in Roleplaying
((Sorry, I don't mean to take away from your story (which I found very interesting, anyways. It sparks my Paladin urge to destory evil 
Anyways, the beginning of it... I couldn't help but think of the monty pyton skit about the ultimate joke that would cause anyone who heard it to laugh until they died and how it was translated into german to be used in the World War... haha))
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((Sorry, I don't mean to take away from your story (which I found very interesting, anyways. It sparks my Paladin urge to destory evil
Anyways, the beginning of it... I couldn't help but think of the monty pyton skit about the ultimate joke that would cause anyone who heard it to laugh until they died and how it was translated into german to be used in the World War... haha))
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((Awww geez... you ruined it. Oh well. I guess I'll never finish it now.
Just kidding. You know comments of all kinds are always welcome. Especially if they make references to Monty Python. 
))
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((Sorry, I don't mean to take away from your story (which I found very interesting, anyways. It sparks my Paladin urge to destory evil
Anyways, the beginning of it... I couldn't help but think of the monty pyton skit about the ultimate joke that would cause anyone who heard it to laugh until they died and how it was translated into german to be used in the World War... haha))
[/ QUOTE ]
((Awww geez... you ruined it. Oh well. I guess I'll never finish it now.
Just kidding. You know comments of all kinds are always welcome. Especially if they make references to Monty Python. ))
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I totally didn't want to ruin the feel, but i had to get it off my chest because that was just the funniest skit in the world!
But I don't wanna take away from such an Im'potent story! 
((<.<
Need more please.))
Elizabeth Rose was awakened by a noise beside her bed. She opened her eyes to see the face of her new mother mere inches from her own.
Cassilda! she said, more loudly than she meant to.
The older woman knelt beside the bed putting a finger to her mouth and indicating the two other girls asleep in the bed next to Elizabeths.
Shh, she said softly, We do not want to disturb them.
Elizabeth looked at her sisters sleeping peacefully, and then sighed as she turned back to Cassilda. Yes, you are right, she whispered. Now, what brought you to our bedchamber at this time of night?
It is your father. He will not come to bed with me, and the nights are so chilly now. She crossed her arms across her chest and shivered for effect.
I am sorry, but I fail to see what that has to do with me?"
Cassilda smiled sweetly at her step-daughter and said, "I wish that you should come to my bed and warm me."
Elizabeth Rose felt a flush rise from her breast, up her neck and over her face. She didn't know if it was from anger that this woman would ask of her such a thing, or from embarrassment at her suspicion that Cassilda was seeking more from her than warmth, and the unnatural images those suspicions brought to her mind.
"I shall get you an extra blanket, if you like..."
"Do not bother, dear. I will make do."
With that Cassilda stood and tiptoed out of the room.
Elizabeth Rose did not go back to sleep, but lay thinking for some time before she heard another whisper.
"Lizzy?"
It was her twin.
"Beth?"
"You stirred me from a sound sleep, sister," Bethany Rose said as she slipped out of her bed and climbed in beside Elizabeth. "What troubles you?"
"It is nothing. Go back to sleep."
"And have you wake me again with your worried thoughts?"
"Better than when you wake me with your dreams of..." Elizabeth trailed off before she said something that would shame them both.
Bethany, however didn't let it lie. "My what? My dreams of my dashing beloved?"
"I didn't find him that dashing," Elizabeth said with a smirk.
"I just wish I could find him," Bethany sighed. "Oxford is so far away."
"I miss home too, though for a different reason. Still, why can't your young man come visit you here?"
"Oh, Lizzy, that would never do. Besides, he was away when he left home. I do not even know if he has returned, nor if he would know where to find me. Bethany let out a long sigh and said, In Oxford, I could slip out of the window and we could away to his apartments to..."
"Beth!" Elizabeth said, again much louder than she meant to.
"Shh!"
Elizabeth hushed and looked to their sister, still asleep in the next bed. Then she continued in a whisper, "Beth! You shall get caught, surely."
"And what if I do? At the very worst, I would be labeled a harlot. I could make a living at that at least. It would be better than dying of boredom here."
"Beth!"
This time Hermione awoke and looked at them.
"Go back to sleep, Herm," Bethany told her, "I am going to sleep with Lizzy tonight. She had a nightmare and needs comfort."
Hermione nodded drowsily and laid her head back on her pillow.
The conversation continued with words more breathed than spoken.
"But what if a child should come of your tryst?
That shall never happen. My love has methods to prevent us from conceiving
Oh, please stop, Beth. I do not want to hear of such things. I would be innocent for a while longer.
Bethany laughed quietly. Lizzy, you are so funny. I am not revealing some secret carnal knowledge to you. He simply has some understanding of the arcane arts. There is an herb which I take before we are together.
I do not think I like that any better. I swear, you will find no happiness from one such as him.
And I dont think you will find any happiness holding on to your virginity until some old codger comes along who is willing to take you off of Fathers hands.
The room was as silent as a tomb for a moment as the two sisters looked at each other.
Then Elizabeth spoke up. When I look at you, it is like looking in a mirror, yet seeing a stranger.
We are twins, sister, not one person split in two. You live your life, and I shall live mine.
Elizabeth nodded and laid her head back on her pillow.
(( *whines pitifully* Dammit I have to get to class!!! There better be more up here when I get back! ))
((HEROID, have you been watching Wuthering Heights?))
[Gothic novels will rot your brains. Just look at me!
Really, good story Heroid and nice cliffhanger]
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
(( *plops down with a pillow, listens expectantly* ))
(( Your ideas intrigue me, and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter. *waits for more of Ye Olde Lustbunnies* ))
I've been waiting for this story for over a month now. Every bit as amazing as I anticipated 
*Waits for more, writing down a bunch of questions for later RP.*
Finally. Almost sent Jericho into madness reading parts of that book.
*Waits for more to be written.*
"Have you heard about the children?"
Elizabeth and Bethany both looked up from the bowls of soup that comprised their evening meal to listen to their younger sibling. The long oaken table at which they sat was bare save for three plain silver candlesticks, and a white lace runner which the girls' mother had made the year before she died.
The walls of the dining room, like the rest of the house were painted a dull grey which, to the twins at least, seemed to darken the mood of all who entered. The girls had asked their father if they could redecorate, but he, being too busy, had left the matter squarely with Cassilda who in turn reasoned that the house did not belong to them, so therefore they could not redecorate a single square inch of it.
"What about the children?" Elizabeth asked.
Hermione sat up straight, proud that she had a bit of news the others had not yet heard, and said, "Some of the children from the village have disappeared without a trace."
Cassilda, at the head of the long oaken table, continued eating her meal.
Hermione smiled as she went on. "There is talk of a secret cult stealing them for ritual sacrifices."
"That is not suitable conversation for the dining table," Elizabeth reprimanded.
"Perhaps later, in the parlor," Bethany added.
"Perhaps not."
All three sisters looked to Cassilda who in speaking had not paused in her eating, but continued moving her spoon from her bowl to her mouth without breaking rhythm.
"Still," continued Hermione, oblivious to the look of puzzlement that had crossed her older sisters' faces, "I would like to know what has happened to them."
Cassilda paused, set her spoon in her bowl -- now empty -- and said, "Would you, now?"
(( I want mooooooore! *Flutters wings impatiently and shuffles around on the cieling* ))
I'm not 100% sure what the connection with CoH is, but who cares about that. This is quite good, heroid! Like most of the others who've posted I am extremelly anxious to see read the 'finished product', as it were.
Elizabeth was awakened by a giggle. She raised up on her elbows and looked around. Bethany was sound asleep in the bed she shared with Hermione. Hermione, however was not; nor was she even in the bed.
Another giggle -- from the hallway -- and Elizabeth swung her feet to the floor, gathering a blanket around her like a cloak. She padded out of the bedroom and followed the sound of quiet laughter around the corner toward the room Cassilda ostensibly shared with their father. There were more giggles coming from inside, but the door was shut, and when she tried to stealthily open it, she found it locked.
From inside there came an excited, Oh! followed by more laughter this time loud, open, haughty, bawdy, laughter which soon gave way to excited conversation, the details of which were muffled by the thickness of the door. When the sound of conversation turned to other things she dare not think of, Elizabeth padded back to her room, to her bed.
She lay in the darkness for a long while with thoughts, dark and dire, racing through her head. Her family had descended into madness. Was it only a matter of time before she and Bethany fell also?
The wind outside began to hum through the shuttered window. Elizabeth was sure the chill in the room worsened. She sighed, got up from her bed and slid into Hermiones place beside Bethany.
Their little sister wouldnt be coming back to claim her spot tonight.
[[This is really, really freaking good. XD]]
"Cupcake cupcake cupcake; Cupcake. Merry_Mint is the best." - Abraham Lincoln
(( I too wonder what the connection to CoH is... Still I want more! ))
In the following days, Hermione seemed to spend more and more time with Cassilda. She never came to their room at bedtime, but rather went with Cassilda to "keep the chill off of their mother". The twins rankled every time they heard their younger sister call the woman, "mother". For Elizabeth, it was especially repugnant.
She thought about discussing the matter with her father, but he was locked away in his study, cracking the door only to receive a meal or to set out the chamber pot. He never came out, and allowed no one to enter.
When mealtime came, the older girls would prepare the meal, and usually only the two of them would dine together in the dining room. Cassilda and Hermione would take their food back to the room they now shared, and later set their dishes on a tray in the hallway to be picked up by either Elizabeth or Bethany.
"We are little more than servants, now," Bethany said as she wiped a dish and set it in the cabinet.
This evening's meal had been as humorless and dreary as the one before, and the one before that. So many things were unspoken now that even the twins had trouble finding safe topics to converse about. This topic, at least, was one that united the two of them in a common cause.
Elizabeth looked at Bethany. The flame from the lamp danced in her eyes, and it's glow reflected from her golden hair. Elizabeth wondered if she, herself, was as beautiful.
"Father will be done with the work soon," Elizabeth replied, "then he will be paid, and perhaps we can move out of this dreadful place."
"She will still be with us."
"I know."
"I despise her."
"There is much about her to despise."
"Hermione loves her."
Elizabeth stopped her cleaning and looked at Bethany, fighting back the tears that were welling in her eyes. "Do not speak of that. I would not speak of their... relationship. Better to feign ignorance of..."
"Their...?" A puzzled look crossed Bethany's face, soon replaced by one of amusement. "Lizzy! Herm is our sister! I didn't mean that they... I swear, when we get back to Oxford, I'm going to find some fine young student to bed you before the wickedness of your imagination causes you to swear to a lifetime of chastity!"
Elizabeth had no chance to either argue or blush, for suddenly their conversation was interrupted by laughter as Cassilda and Hermione entered the kitchen. The walked in unison, for they were wrapped together in the fine woven bedspread that had once belonged to their mother. Their bare shoulders and tousled hair told tales that neither twin was prepared for.
Cassilda smiled as she walked past them to retrieve the remainder of a bottle of wine that Elizabeth had opened for her father's evening meal. She smiled still when she strode past them, wrapped in the linen with Hermione who blushed and giggled and avoided looking in her sisters' direction.
They finished the remainder of their chores in grim silence.
((Eww.))
((by which I mean "Keep it going."))
((but still. Eww.))
@sween
Your hero toons need to see this.
Elizabeth tapped at the door lightly, and when no answer came, she slowly turned the doorknob. The latch made a small click so she pushed at it carefully, opening it in tiny increments dreading the sound of a tell-tale squeak. Finally the opening was enough for her to stick her head through.
Her father's study was small, unlike the study in the house in Oxford. What must have been reams of paper was strewn about the room as if a whirlwind had blown through. Father was sitting on his stool, his forehead resting on a piece of yellowed parchment. The lamp by which he worked was smoking, its wick desperately in need of trimming.
Elizabeth entered the room, tiptoeing on her bare feet, then turned and motioned for Bethany to follow. Silently they crept up on their father and when he didn't stir, they began looking over his work. On the desk was one ream of paper still neatly stacked. It was covered in their father's neat calligraphy.
This they took and left the room. They snuck past Cassilda's closed boudoir door from behind which Hermione's silly, hysterical laughter erupted. As quiet as mice they went back to their room and locked themselves inside. Bethany stood with her ear to the door for a moment, and when she was certain no one had followed them she joined Elizabeth on the bed where the papers were now spread out.
"Hurry, the catnip in his tea will wear off!"
"I am hurrying!"
"What are we looking at?"
"Beth, I will be able to tell you quicker if you will quit buzzing in my ear like a bee."
The girls worked in silence: Bethany moving back and forth between the bed and the door, and Elizabeth trying to glean as much information as she could from the manuscript. Now and then she would gasp, causing Bethany to ask why, to which Elizabeths only reply would be to look up with tearful eyes as she shook her head and covered her mouth. Whether this was a work of fiction, or a historical account, it was full haunting beauty, terrors, and perversions. She skimmed the pages scarcely believing her father's hand had put these words to the page:
Cassildas Song (from Act I, Scene 2)
Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink beneath the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa.
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa.
Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.
Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.
That one wasnt so bad beautiful in its way -- but as the chapters progressed the content became much more disturbing.
The Pallid Mask (Act 2, Scene 2)
Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, tis time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!
The meaning of the Pallid Mask was unknown, but the passage still sent a shiver up her spine.
The Imprisonment of Camilla (Act 3, Scene 1)
Cassilda:
Oh, daughter, what have you espied,
That your countenance is cast so low?
Is there some secret you would share;
A secret you try, but cannot hide?
Speak of what is on your heart, my darling child.
Camilla:
Oh mother, pray where have you been,
With your handmaids and your ministers?
In the room beyond the altar hall,
In the chamber of the priestess-queen,
With a fair young maid with skin so white and hair of gold?
Cassilda:
My child, why would you ask?
In the soft cloud of sleep I left you;
Your head upon your pillow, softly breathing;
The door was locked upon my leaving;
Speak no more twas only dreaming.
Camilla:
Nay mother, for the door ajar,
In your haste did you fail to see,
The bolt short of its place did fall,
And from my bed I rose,
To follow you to the temple hall and the maiden fair.
Cassilda:
So, child, twas your footfalls,
Small and light that I did hear,
But turning round I never saw
You descend the tower stairs behind me;
Oh, child, what have you espied!
Camilla:
Oh, mother, would I did not see,
For the seeing vexes me still;
You loved them all and her the most,
Then killed her like the harvest pig,
And cut her heart from her maidens breast.
Cassilda:
Child you have yourself condemned;
Til the age when you may comprehend;
And take my duties for your own;
Your quarters you may never leave;
A caged bird without a song you are;
Speak only when you are spoken to, my little bird, my budgie.
Elizabeth felt like weeping as she made the connection between that passage and her step-mothers relationship with Hermione.
The Queens Curse (Act 3, Scene 3)
Flesh of my flesh, take up my vengeance,
With this death I bind you.
In your innocent hand shall be my vengeance;
With these entrails I bind you.
In your immortal spirit, my vengeance;
With this heart I bind you.
With you, my song, my vengeance;
I drink of this blood to bind you.
Elizabeth cared to read no more. She gathered the manuscript up in her arms with no care for the order of the pages.
Lizzy! What are you doing?
I am going to destroy this abomination.
What? But all of fathers work
the money
If you had read what I read and seen in these pages what I have seen, you would not question me.
Elizabeth moved toward the door.
No, sister! Bethany shouted as she moved to block Elizabeth from leaving. I cant let you do that. All his work
All his madness, you mean! We shall be lucky if he ever regains his sanity after months of looking at this. I have only tasted portions of it. Our poor father has feasted on this poison fully. I fear he will be lost to us if I do not destroy it. Elizabeth leaned forward and nudged her sister with her shoulder. Now, move out of my way.
Stunned, Bethany turned and opened the door for her sister. There was the sound of a mallet hitting maple and suddenly Bethany fell backward, knocking Elizabeth to the floor, the manuscript going everywhere, dispersing around the room like leaves in the wind.
Beth, you silly
Elizabeth began, but then she looked at the open doorway.
Hermione giggled at her then raised the bloody club again.
((o_O))
Hm. The passages are reminiscent of an extract from The King In Yellow, and only helps to really reinforce the otherworldly, Lovecraftian feel I was getting from this to begin with.
Goooood stuff! I look forward to more.
The Elysienne; Magical controller
Silent Sickle; Natural scrapper
And many more.
Aenigma Rebis: "Actually, Ely's more like Jean Grey. Only... smart."
Many, many years ago, so long that no one remembers, an unknown author set about to write a play. In his play many foul and inhuman acts were committed. This, coupled with the fact that the perusal of the text often resulted in insanity for the reader, caused his play to become rather unpopular to societies over the centuries.
However, certain people -- the kind who pursue the study of arcane and blasphemous literature -- embraced this play, recognizing the inherent powers of such a work, so over the centuries the work has endured. Many copies of the various editions have been destroyed by vigilant clergy and other types of people who seek to protect society from the arcane and blasphemous. That only served to make almost any verifiable edition of the book become quite valuable. Around the time the Americans revolted against British rule, English and French translations became quite popular in certain circles throughout Europe.
In the first part of the 19th Century, in England, when a prominent (but financially unlucky) scholar was promised an exorbitant amount of gold in return for an English translation of the original text, he could not believe his luck. That was, at least, until he began the work.
The unfortunate man and his family began to suffer one bad turn after another. Their house in Oxford burned down which prompted the family to move to a country manor in Lambshead; a house leased to them by the contractor of the translation work. Then a short time later, the man's wife, the mother of his three daughters, became victim of a sudden to the consumption. The village doctor was adequate for the treatment of most ailments, but he suggested that the woman should be sent to London, to a specialist. The stipend the scholar received to ease him until the completion of the work was enough to send her, but not enough so that one of their daughters could accompany her. The poor woman lasted only a few pain-filled weeks before she passed.
The scholar was left with his three beautiful daughters, the joys of his life. The two older girls were twins, Elizabeth Rose and Bethany Rose whose beauty turned many heads in the town where they had lived, and if they had been from a more well-to-do family, they would have been considered extremely marriageable. As it was, they were only considered extremely desirable. The third sister, Hermione Rose -- over a year younger than the twins and so named by her mother and father so that she would feel that she was as cherished as you older siblings -- was pious to a fault.
Though he loved his daughters dearly, the scholar, in his grief, threw himself into the work so completely that Elizabeth Rose had to plead with him to pause long enough to eat a meager meal or to take a nap. He would hardly speak, and when he did, it was a frightening garble of nonsense. The three girls worried and fretted, but could not get him to relent: their doting father was now a slave to the text he on which he worked.
After eight months, the work nearly finished, a woman named Cassilda Deville came calling upon the family. She was traveling past the country house on her way home to Southampton when her coachman found a pothole in the road and busted a carriage wheel. The girls allowed her to stay overnight. For their trouble, they were horrified the next morning when they found their father, not locked away in his study slaving over the book, but in his bedchamber with Miss Deville.
Their horror was compounded three days later when their father took the woman to town to have her coach wheel repaired, then returned with her by his side, introducing her to his daughters as "your new mother".
The next day, children began to disappear from the village near by.