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Ashmoor Citizen
Morgan Montague
- niet sans2318
Darlin' darlin'
doesn't have a problem lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf
Morgan was on the prowl today. Seeking unsuspecting prey. But in a more literal sense, this time. She, and a party consisting mostly of her friends. Had decided to go for a hunt in one of the Upper rings nature reserves. Though the one she had chosen for the day, also doubled as a park. The place was split into the areas; one for hunting game. And the other was used more casually by the local populace. The woman was an advert huntress. Like many of her peers. Mostly, people loved the thrill the whole experiences brought. The tracking, The chase. For most, it was about the journey rather than the end result. But not for Morgan. She couldn't give a damn about that. All she wanted was an excuse to kill something. That was the force driving her. Having the power of life and death over another living creature. It was almost as intoxicating as the many drugs she consumed.
She and her party were perusing a large stag, one of the biggest the young widow had ever seen in her life. Not only was its stature astounding, but so was its beauty. It possessed a rare coat, that was so light. That it could easily be mistaken for white. And its eyes. They captivated her, even from a far distance away. She simply needed the animal to be stuffed. So she could display it in her home. Thus preserving its beauty forever. But the stag was clever. And it fled into the section of the park where hunting was strictly forbidden. Since it could pose a danger to the other visitors. Dividing the two districts were fences, barbwire, and countless warning sings. All things Morgan chose to ignore. She wasn't one to give up easily, when she had set her sight on something, after all. No matter if others could get hurt in the process. It didn't take long for the stag to barge into a densely populated corner of the park. Morgan could hear people scream as she followed in close pursuit. Her horse jumping over several benches, and other man-made objects in the process. The stag was in a panic now, as it started to run into a crowd of people.
Morgan didn't waste any time. She raised her crossbow. Aimed, took a short breath. And fired. The arrow plunged into the neck of the great beast. Probably hitting a vital artery. The beast made a loud noise, and fell to the ground. It wasn't dead on impact, as it writhed around for a bit. Its blood leaking like running water. Before it finally went still. Morgans party caught up on her. And when they did. Morgan started to speak. Addressing the crowd. She spoke about how she had found the mad animal as in a state of delirium. Possibly rabies. As it made its way to this area of the park. She told how she tried to shoot the creature down before it embarked on the crowd. But that she; but a woman wasn't skilled enough to shoot the animal down. However, when the stag made its way through the masses. Something sparked in her, a deep-rooted desire to perfect her fellow men from harm. It was that-which enabled her to make the successful shot.
Her friends quickly backed up her story. And soon, the people around her seemed convinced of it. They cheered, and applauded her. Morgan smiled and waved at them. Feeling like royals when she did so. As she stepped off her horse. A horde of people formed around her.
She and her party were perusing a large stag, one of the biggest the young widow had ever seen in her life. Not only was its stature astounding, but so was its beauty. It possessed a rare coat, that was so light. That it could easily be mistaken for white. And its eyes. They captivated her, even from a far distance away. She simply needed the animal to be stuffed. So she could display it in her home. Thus preserving its beauty forever. But the stag was clever. And it fled into the section of the park where hunting was strictly forbidden. Since it could pose a danger to the other visitors. Dividing the two districts were fences, barbwire, and countless warning sings. All things Morgan chose to ignore. She wasn't one to give up easily, when she had set her sight on something, after all. No matter if others could get hurt in the process. It didn't take long for the stag to barge into a densely populated corner of the park. Morgan could hear people scream as she followed in close pursuit. Her horse jumping over several benches, and other man-made objects in the process. The stag was in a panic now, as it started to run into a crowd of people.
Morgan didn't waste any time. She raised her crossbow. Aimed, took a short breath. And fired. The arrow plunged into the neck of the great beast. Probably hitting a vital artery. The beast made a loud noise, and fell to the ground. It wasn't dead on impact, as it writhed around for a bit. Its blood leaking like running water. Before it finally went still. Morgans party caught up on her. And when they did. Morgan started to speak. Addressing the crowd. She spoke about how she had found the mad animal as in a state of delirium. Possibly rabies. As it made its way to this area of the park. She told how she tried to shoot the creature down before it embarked on the crowd. But that she; but a woman wasn't skilled enough to shoot the animal down. However, when the stag made its way through the masses. Something sparked in her, a deep-rooted desire to perfect her fellow men from harm. It was that-which enabled her to make the successful shot.
Her friends quickly backed up her story. And soon, the people around her seemed convinced of it. They cheered, and applauded her. Morgan smiled and waved at them. Feeling like royals when she did so. As she stepped off her horse. A horde of people formed around her.
Sat Nov 26, 2022 10:00 pm
Posts
IC Posts
The Winter Family
Maybel Winter
- Renske139132
bedazzle
Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.
It was a lovely greenwilt day. The sun was out and for once it wasn't drizzling miserable. A time for Maybel to go out and promenade through a closely located park. She brought out the latest greenwilt fashion, which meant she had to wear a decorated hat and a short cape as well. She intentionally was planning to walk with one of her close friends Adalaine, but soon they had been intercepted by some bold bachelors hunting on girls like them. And they would let them, but Maybel soon grew bored about hearing about the Lord's achievements. As she looked at him, she caught herself that she did not even remember his name. That meant enough already, and her mind went wandering as the man kept blabbering away.
Luck was on her side, because she heard people screaming not far away from her. Maybel turned her nose to the way of the screaming, reaching her neck to look over the crowd of people that was collecting. She smacked the hand away of someone - probably the poor unfortunate soul who's name she could not remember - that tried to lead her away from the commotion. But Maybel was a bit of a disaster tourist herself. You could not look away from a train-wreck. So she determinedly strut away from the path on the grass.
People started to speak in loud, rushed voices and Maybel had to wriggle her tiny body through the people. She even heard someone whisper "Miss Winter! not so discretely. Maybel rolled her eyes and pulled up the hem of her dress as she ploughed on. Maybel always was front row on everything. And not only because she was too short to look over other people. But for now, her tiny composure made it possible for her to glide through the crowd as a little snake.
It were it's empty eyes what she saw first. A beautiful stag laid side-down on the gras, an arrow stuck in it's neck and the blood drained out of it's body still. But it were the empty eyes that rattled her most. She had seen blood more than people knew. She had seen men beaten and bruised all her life, because that was how business worked. Every coin in her household had a scarlet lining. But nobody dare to raise up against them, because it was simply a war unable to be won. Her father had the backing of the Duke. And his own reputation not to toil with. But Maybel had rarely seen death. They kept no pets and funerals she did not attend if she did not have to. Poor animal, but the cheering grew louder as a woman's voice explained it had been mad. Wait.. a woman's?
Maybel attention was drawn in a second. A woman stood next to a horse, crossbow still in hand and with a expression on her face, Maybel could not explain. But it was fascinating. A woman killed the stag. It was ironic and unspoken of, but she ate it like cake. ‘‘What a marvelous achievement.’’ A broad smile hung on her lips. ‘‘You may have saved a life today, Miss..?’’ Maybel looked closer at the woman holding the weapon. Even is she would liked to, she would never be allowed to hunt like men. But this woman clearly did not bide to male rules.
Luck was on her side, because she heard people screaming not far away from her. Maybel turned her nose to the way of the screaming, reaching her neck to look over the crowd of people that was collecting. She smacked the hand away of someone - probably the poor unfortunate soul who's name she could not remember - that tried to lead her away from the commotion. But Maybel was a bit of a disaster tourist herself. You could not look away from a train-wreck. So she determinedly strut away from the path on the grass.
People started to speak in loud, rushed voices and Maybel had to wriggle her tiny body through the people. She even heard someone whisper "Miss Winter! not so discretely. Maybel rolled her eyes and pulled up the hem of her dress as she ploughed on. Maybel always was front row on everything. And not only because she was too short to look over other people. But for now, her tiny composure made it possible for her to glide through the crowd as a little snake.
It were it's empty eyes what she saw first. A beautiful stag laid side-down on the gras, an arrow stuck in it's neck and the blood drained out of it's body still. But it were the empty eyes that rattled her most. She had seen blood more than people knew. She had seen men beaten and bruised all her life, because that was how business worked. Every coin in her household had a scarlet lining. But nobody dare to raise up against them, because it was simply a war unable to be won. Her father had the backing of the Duke. And his own reputation not to toil with. But Maybel had rarely seen death. They kept no pets and funerals she did not attend if she did not have to. Poor animal, but the cheering grew louder as a woman's voice explained it had been mad. Wait.. a woman's?
Maybel attention was drawn in a second. A woman stood next to a horse, crossbow still in hand and with a expression on her face, Maybel could not explain. But it was fascinating. A woman killed the stag. It was ironic and unspoken of, but she ate it like cake. ‘‘What a marvelous achievement.’’ A broad smile hung on her lips. ‘‘You may have saved a life today, Miss..?’’ Maybel looked closer at the woman holding the weapon. Even is she would liked to, she would never be allowed to hunt like men. But this woman clearly did not bide to male rules.
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Mon Nov 28, 2022 8:36 pm
Posts
IC Posts
Ashmoor Citizen
Morgan Montague
- niet sans2318
Darlin' darlin'
doesn't have a problem lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf
People ate up her story, because it fitted perfectly into the gender roles designed by society. Women were supposed to be seen; and not heard. They especially weren't allowed to fight; well, only if their aim was to safeguard others. Their children, husbands. Then they were seen as true heroines. But when they started to protect their own interests they were seen as she-wolfs, vixens, or worse; witches. Well, in the case of Morgan. Being called a witch would be more correct than any of these people could ever know, Point is; if you wanted to survive in this world. You had to spin events into your favor, it was, after all; only lying if the truth came out first. Morgan spoke with some of the crowd who had formed around her. Making jokes and there, ones that made everyone laugh. The raven haired woman could be excellent company. If she set her mind to it. Just then, a clear voice cut through all the others. One that sounded familiar to Morgan, and yet she couldn't quite place who it belonged to. Not even when she turned to the woman, who had spoken those words. Morgan looked at her up and down for a while, before finally; it clicked. This was Maybel winter. Ah, of course; who could she have forgotten. "I suppose there is something exciting about the fact that you pull your trigger here." She moved her crossbow up, like she did when she shot the boar. And just like then; she aimed and activated the weapon. And while it did go off, since it wasn't loaded it didn't eject anything. "And watch something die over there." She laughed, and everyone around here did so too. Then she walked closer to the winter girl and offered her a smile; and her arm. "Motague, Morgan Montague. And you're the ever famous Maybel winter." The lady said; with a sweet voice. Sticky and dripping like honey. As she stepped even closer. "Come, would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me? I may not look it; but I'm actually terribly afraid of crowds. Not really used to the attention, you know?" She locked eyes with the younger girl "But your notice is something I could never shy away from."
Sun Dec 04, 2022 2:46 pm
Posts
IC Posts
The Winter Family
Maybel Winter
- Renske139132
bedazzle
Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.
This woman was a whirlwind and Maybel liked a storm metaforisch gezien dan he de laatste storm was minder grappig. The crowd just seemed to love her, laughing as she cracked jokes and speaking like she owned the place. She had them all in the palm of her hand. Maybel wondered how old she was. She did not seem that much older than she was. How on earth did she manage to enter a hunt in the first place? That was a man's pleasure. And although Maybel hated riding, she was jealous.
She followed the weapon she swung around like it was a sword, talking so nonchalantly about killing something. Like seeing an animal die was something fun and exiting. Maybel did not entirely agree with that, still haunted by the empty gaze of the stag as his life drained away. But she could imagine the rush of power it must have given the woman. She cracked a small smile when the crowd laughed like it was the most amusing thing they had ever heard. Her smile only widened when of all people, it was her she was drawn to. So predictable, how every person managed to pick out the aristocrat in the crowd. It was like a moth to a flame, and Maybel reveled in it.
Maybel placed her dainty hand around the arm of the heroin of the day, as the woman introduced herself. The name Montague did ring a bell. Old Montague with his young, pretty wife. This must be her. Sadly old Montague did not survive the pass of time very long and his widow was left alone with a baby on her arm. Well, it looked like unless everything, she was still thriving. ‘‘Indeed I am,’’ she replied with a happy smile. Morgan infiltraded her personal space a bit more when she started to ramble words in her ear. Maybel chuckled softly, her smile hidden beneath her free hand. ‘‘Oh I doubt it, you seem a natural,’’ Maybel cooed with a just a sweet voice. The flattering did not stop there, as Morgan made Maybel smile again. ‘‘I would be honored to walk with you, Miss Montague.’’ Her eyes went through the crowed and she pulled the woman away from her horse, her prey and the ever prying ears and eyes. ‘‘Luckily I am used to the attention, and how to get away from it,’’ she said with a chuckle. She looked back over her shoulder and fastened her pace over the grass back to the path. She then giggled softly when the crowd just immediately did not know what to do with themselves and scatter as ants. When they were out of earshot, she slowed herself to a leisurely pace. ‘‘How are you ever allowed to carry such a thing?’’ Maybel's magpie eyes were locked at the crossbow. ‘‘One of the perks of being a widow, I assume?’’
She followed the weapon she swung around like it was a sword, talking so nonchalantly about killing something. Like seeing an animal die was something fun and exiting. Maybel did not entirely agree with that, still haunted by the empty gaze of the stag as his life drained away. But she could imagine the rush of power it must have given the woman. She cracked a small smile when the crowd laughed like it was the most amusing thing they had ever heard. Her smile only widened when of all people, it was her she was drawn to. So predictable, how every person managed to pick out the aristocrat in the crowd. It was like a moth to a flame, and Maybel reveled in it.
Maybel placed her dainty hand around the arm of the heroin of the day, as the woman introduced herself. The name Montague did ring a bell. Old Montague with his young, pretty wife. This must be her. Sadly old Montague did not survive the pass of time very long and his widow was left alone with a baby on her arm. Well, it looked like unless everything, she was still thriving. ‘‘Indeed I am,’’ she replied with a happy smile. Morgan infiltraded her personal space a bit more when she started to ramble words in her ear. Maybel chuckled softly, her smile hidden beneath her free hand. ‘‘Oh I doubt it, you seem a natural,’’ Maybel cooed with a just a sweet voice. The flattering did not stop there, as Morgan made Maybel smile again. ‘‘I would be honored to walk with you, Miss Montague.’’ Her eyes went through the crowed and she pulled the woman away from her horse, her prey and the ever prying ears and eyes. ‘‘Luckily I am used to the attention, and how to get away from it,’’ she said with a chuckle. She looked back over her shoulder and fastened her pace over the grass back to the path. She then giggled softly when the crowd just immediately did not know what to do with themselves and scatter as ants. When they were out of earshot, she slowed herself to a leisurely pace. ‘‘How are you ever allowed to carry such a thing?’’ Maybel's magpie eyes were locked at the crossbow. ‘‘One of the perks of being a widow, I assume?’’
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Sun Dec 04, 2022 10:28 pm
Posts
IC Posts
Ashmoor Citizen
Morgan Montague
- niet sans2318
Darlin' darlin'
doesn't have a problem lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf
Maybel was a riot, if the rumors around here were to be believed, anyway. And Morgan was sure they were, since the way the woman responded to her all but confirmed it. She wasn't some stuffy, uptight corkscrews. She seemed fun, and Morgan liked that. Since she considered herself fun too. Maybel liked to talk too, but the things she said only intrigued Morgan further. But before they could walk arm in arm away from the crowd. Morgan made sure to whisper to her party to take care of her horse for a little while, and the stag. She still wanted that beast framed. She would place it over her fireplace, it would be a good addition to her some, she was sure of it. When Maybel responded to one of her comments calling her "Miss Montague" Morgan laughed and waved her hand in the air. "Please, with you, I am simply Morgan." She said with a charming smile. She tried to come across as a humble person. But everyone could see with just a simple glance that she was anything but. "Though I hope you don't mind it If I continue to call you Lady Winter, the distinction suits you so well, after all." She went on as she squeezed the arm of the woman playfully. Though, it was true. "Lady Winter" Did have such a ring to it. ‘‘Luckily I am used to the attention, and how to get away from it,’’ The blond said with a chuckle as she quickened her pace. Morgan almost let go of her arm when she did so, but managed to keep up in the end. They were on the path now; and when the raven haired woman looked back at the crowd. It had dispersed. The two women then continued walking, though the speed at which they were going was much more relaxed. Maybel then asked about her crossbow. And how she was allowed to even carry such a thing. Though, she basically already answered her own question in her next comment. "You are quite right, my lady." Morgan said, as she held the weapon a little higher. So Maybel could get an even better look at it. "Though it's not the only perk." Morgan winked at the woman, but then giggled as she shook her head. "I jest of course, for while there certainly are some benefits to being a widow. Losing a dear husband is never worth them." But, oh, it was.
Sun Jan 15, 2023 9:06 pm
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