is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
In their own right, both women were hailed as mother within Columbia. Rosalind Lutece had given the city her wings; without the fair Lady of Science, there would be New Eden upon which the faithful and pure might step upon. She was a mother to the country, and in part, the people. Madam President certainly acted as mother to all; and the arrival of the heir apparent had only amplified the maternal way the city viewed her. Indeed; the pair were oft’ seen with the rosy-cheeked infant; dressed in pristine Sunday best with heads cocked towards the other in case she might have an opinion to release. However, public perception was blissfully off. While the womenfolk could run a country rather seamlessly, neither could raise a child and ne’er took delight in the task that had been set out for them. Indeed, the Widow Comstock muchly preferred hiding behind mountains of paperwork.
Gloved hand dragged down worn face; utterly ecstatic to be relieved of the thing that would come to call her mother. Would such hellish noise never cease? Did the child not see the amount of woe she was causing? Did she simply relish it?! Neither had the patience to deal with her for long, and the servants could not be expected to put up with the miserable little girl. Yet mercifully - and only for a brief moment that felt like heaven - did the infant cease incessant blubbering; rosebud lips puckering and tiny hands grasping fistfuls of air with ragged breath.
“A miracle, perhaps?!” Came the murmur from settee; prompting the rather exhausted widow to straighten.
Glee was short lived, however; the Miracle Child began to sniffle and howl with renewed fervour, having rested her tiny lungs. Hands were jammed over ears, and with a glower that rivalled Medusa’s did hiss escape the Blessed Mother.
“It appears I spoke too soon. Might she be hungry?”
In spite of the benevolent glow that these pair of women radiated against the clouds that submerged this utopia, profound enigmas fluttered across their stiff composure. Though adept in the process of administering that these brick built structures would cease to fall on account of either revolution or fluctuation itself, the divine conductors hadn’t been the sort of folk that they were believed to have been. When with the infant, Elizabeth, the pair of mothers appeared absurdly close to being vanquished at the mere constraint that the whines and shrieks had upon them. Unlike Rosalind’s child friendly counterpart, her composure remained solid and agitated at the very sight of her confidant’s offspring, the very image doing enough to drive her far away from any sort of persuasion that would result in a blanketed, fussy whelp. How it had been that any sort of woman found conciliation in these creatures, Rosalind might never come to know.
While her complexion involuntarily soured with the accompanied howls and whimpers that drummed through the woman’s ears, Rosalind persists with indulging the thing with tender brushes of digits against a pliable spine and pacifying consolation in the form of whispers which urged peace. Raising adolescents had been far too tedious and complex; cries meaning not one thing or the other but a great number of different dilemmas that one might not even be able to comprehend.
In a moment’s notice, fixation falls toward reddened cheeks and the sizzling tears which pooled in the chasms of her vast, cobalt eyes. Pleasant prospects had been taken into account, the hope which needn’t be made known through vocals imploring the babe for tranquility… The sirens had been put to rest for the martyrs– briefly.
“Surely. I would only presume that warm milk would do better than worse.”
It was here that the pair had pressed toward the kitchen, squabbling here and there concerning just how hot the milk ought to have been and whether there was a sure way that it would bring about beneficial results.
Could a woman not be a king? While rare in itself, many had sat the throne and straddled their country, allowing it to prosper under careful sensibilities that the fairer sex seemed to possess. Unsullied by the brutal lust for control that men in already high positions craved, it only seemed natural to view one’s country and people as unruly child in need of steady hand and watchful gaze. Granted, Lutece seemed to advise against governing in such a soft-hearted manner, encouraging and fostering the idea that warm gaze must turn analytical, able to seek out and solve any problem with a sharp, concise and unbiased mind. The Blessed Mother thought with the heart, not the head; perhaps it was a blessing that Lutece stood so firm by her side.
Lips pressed together lightly at her breach of decorum; an errthat would not be perpetrated before her right hand again. After all she had done and would do, the leastRosalind Lutece deserved from her new employer was both respect and kindness. Slowly did long fingered hand rub over gaunt features, trying in vain to bring some energy and semblance of a smile back to her lips.
“My apologies. Elizabeth has been disrupting my sleep. Ne’er have I seen a child more miserable than she.” Fingers drifted to temples, flinching as the Miracle Child’s wailing increased in both length and volume.
It had been fortunate then that Columbia had been under the ’possession’ of those whom discern the distinctions of what had been vital for this haven. While Lutece hadn’t been versed particularly well in governing, she made up for it in heedful observations and insight which had been worth lending ear to. In this way, the duo had assisted one another in more ways than one, complying to needs that had been graciously fashioned to benefit a confidant like no other. Inconceivable that the maternal symbol marred by superstition is reinforced by the incredulous– yet, here they were: leading.
Speculation wasn’t needed to make this correlation. With fatigue ridden red eyes there had always been a fussy babe that would cease it’s wailing. While this obligation certainly hadn’t been hers to manage, she had known it wouldn’t be very long before Amelia pleads and her counterpart succumbs. The concept in itself had been the bane that nagged her internally whenever she’d been the one to pamper the bundle of joy that was Elizabeth. Glancing down against her ruddy cheeks, the woman persists with fluctuating to and fro, now beginning to hush her ever so patiently.
“Evidently…” Agreeing as her neck began craning in the opposing direction as the thing began shrieking in distress, as though she’d been able to perceive the English language.
“No, no — You cannot go into the ballroom looking like that.” Otherwise harsh words were softened by the other’s warm tone that filled the President’s bedroom like a hearth, melting the ice in her gaze and clipped tone that could freeze a mother’s heart. Oft’ had she addressed Rosalind Lutece with nothing less than contempt, turning her chin up at a haughty angle that rivalled the pride of Helen of Troy, brushing past her husband’s favourite as though she were no more than an irksome fly. Yet things had changed with the blink of an eye, prompting an unlikely alliance that had stemmed into something… More.
Glad to be relievedof such a miserable child, the First Lady heaved a sigh of utmost pleasure to have the writhing child out of her awkward embrace. Unceremoniously did she drop into plush chair, proud shoulderscaving inward. She was not cut out to be a mother without her dear husband, it seemed.
“Surely you know something.”
Familiars were their only incentives. Without them, the desire to persistently minister an obligation that is both emotionally and physically tiresome weakens immensely. There were more duties to tend toward now, and while young Elizabeth had taken precedence in most aspects, there had still been a UTOPIA to maintain. Without much thought, the one individual whom, for some reason found gratification, came to mind– Robert.
“–Only the glaringly obvious.” Finally claiming, as though this hadn't been expressed enough in the way she toted her.
Wailing child was thrust at the scientist by a rather exasperated First Lady, who seemed more dead than alive.
”—Make her stop.”
In moments as these, indignation impulsively coated her tongue. This girl hadn’t been appointed her obligation and yet, here it she had been, weighing down her floating hands and inflaming her ears with this child’s fussing.
How could any truly dislike dear Madame Lutece? Granted, twisted jealousy that had bubbled only once, wishing for the same time of day given to Lutece by the Prophet to transfer unto her. Yet he was gone; probably dead and buried. Without him playing her heartstrings like a violin, dear Missus Comstock had grown the courage to spread her wings, flying far and beyond the world he had constructed for her while taking Lutece by the hand. As more and more was learned about the treacherous man she had once worshipped and loved so deeply. Rosalind had provided an antidote of sorts to the once blind woman, removing the stars from her eyes and putting them back into the sky from whence they had came. She was forever grateful, and it showed in every word and movement given to Lutece. Like it or not, President A. Comstock, the Queen of Columbia, respected and rather liked the woman who had given the New Eden her wings.
Ne’er would she use cruelty and injustice to get her own way. Mercy, forgiveness; it was her gospel and her law from which she would build a new life from. As such, dearest Rosalind had a place, and it was at the queen’s right-hand side; hidden in shadows yet plainly visible to all that neared her throne.
One day, she might come to trust Rosalind as she had trusted the Prophet; yet the dear Lady remained distant, hesitant to even throw a smile in the other’s direction. It was a delicate dance, but it could not be avoided.
”Perception. You are telling me that… My husband was able to step through such tears? Yet the drawbacks….
I don’t understand.”
Harmony would soon spring betwixt Columbia’s leading ladies, the result being nothing but utter harmony for all affected. Although, it had been true Lutece hadn’t once conceptualized a scenario as this ever coming about when Zachary had prospered, nor when he first came to pass, in fact. From his dissolution and their presumed dismissal, the pair of siblings found themselves aghast to hear the widow’s appeal. It had not been marked by a grudge, impatience, or anything of the sort... Rather the opposite, in spite of the venom stained insults the Lady had spewed but a while ago. One would have never of known such disdain had once been the foundation of their beginnings, had they taken observation in the distant future. One would lay an appendage so willingly against a shoulder, concerns would be voiced in most tender a manner; both Rosalind and Amelia had been confidants and it had been for the better… Not simply for themselves, but as well as well as the utopia they’ve garnished. Albeit, this had only been the commencement of their alliance and all had to flourish in time.
Satisfaction had been the sole sentiment of this arrangement for both brother and sister though. All that they wished, was that the duration of this this woman’s reign would advance favorably and in turn, she would grant them with but more undertakings, opportunity, and tranquility.
“Yes.” Only did he take it upon himself to do such a thing when wretchedly set on obtaining that which ought to have been unattainable. By executing this request, it meant jeopardizing Robert’s fluctuating health: a concern that Rosalind had etched in mind. “One could assuredly make use of the device in such circumstances, though very infrequently (very little, if I may add). Severing oneself from a reality to endure another induces harsh mental and physical ailments…” If that hadn’t been evident enough through The Prophet.
Indeed, a change had taken place between both women. While mild snubs and indifference had surrounded the redhead hailed as the Mother of Columbia, the Queen of Heaven had found, upon closer inspection, that such indifference gave way to a brilliant mind and genuine kindness that lay beyond cryptic words. At the time of the election, it had made sense to align herself with Rosalind Lutece, and where had that gotten her? Why, she was perched upon her husband’s throne with her crows and the daring twins lurking in the shadows like the devil and angel that perched on her shoulder. Gentle hands would shape Columbia now, turning it from an ark into the Utopia prophesied by the great Prophet himself.
No longer was fire called to rain down on the Sodom Below, no longer would there be any child to grow in her womb. What was left for her to do was to care for the city as though it were her own child.
A heavy sigh escaped pursed lips, glancing towards machine as though it were a wild animal ready to attack at any second. The world Rosalind Lutece belong to remained shrouded in mystery, and would likely remain as such for a long time.
“…You have already told me what my husband used it for. His… His visions were false. But such a miraculous device… With Zachary, it was never that simple.
What else?”
Aspects to these Lutece characters were deemed to border nothing but hostility though in turn, they possessed an unrecognized suitability for any solution to any predicament at hand– their wisdom exceeded many. Quick folks were to suspect the unfavorable when only the prime had been of their intention. Fortunately they sought recognition only in the most comprehensible of circumstances: by discipline and triumph. Previously even Madame Comstock had failed to distinguish the crucial aid which they lent The Prophet. Fraudulent affection only kindled through her being as though a vile reaction to an addiction. Alleviating the woman meant disbanding her marriage (though there had been only one method). This wasn’t to say that such a phenomenon had been at the hands of the redhead. Sadly, to challenge a miscreant would only result in catastrophe on her part.
Concern for the well being of herself as well as her brother had expired, now that there was a new head, there had been no need for it. Relief washed over Columbia, reminiscent to the maternal touch of comfort.
With luck and further perseverance, this unlikely woman would grow to fathom her innermost cognitive processes– an ability that only one other had been able to make out. Friendly associations were not abundant.
“Perception had been the only intentional purpose. Excursion is feasible but are followed by harsh counteractions. Disobeying the set principles of the very cosmos has it’s drawbacks, Madame.”
While the Prophet may have reduced his dear bride to a simpering dog at the best of times, he had not been able to diminish the steel in the Good Lady’s glare. Upon his untimely demise, she had snapped to attention. Of course she mourned for the man she loved, but more important things had been at hand. Lutece’s allegiance, Columbia… The seat of power she had coveted and won would not have been hers had dearest Rosalind not agreed to align herself with the woman who dreamed of a true and just Utopia. President A. Comstock was more than grateful for the physicist’s aid; she was indebted to her.
She never could abide debts.
Slender finger tapped against gaunt cheek with impatience, expression blank yet eyes filled with bemused light. She and Lutece had never quite been on the right page, and belonged to opposite ends of the spectrum. The mere fact that the two had agreed to work together had surprised many, even the Queen of Heaven herself. “You’re being vague, Miss Lutece.” She countered, smile sickly sweet. As though milk had been left to curdle did the viper’s vulgar grin turn sour, refusing to let go of the maternal affection that ruled her crafted persona.
“I want details. If we were to work together, skipping over things will not do.”
By taking command, there sprouted and flourished a new found respect for the Lady. No longer had the scientist referred to this final Comstock by terms so mocking, hardly did she ever bode on negative aspects concerning her character either. Her transition had more or less colored Lutece intrigued. It had been as if this symbol of maternal and obedient behavior had relinquished and been exchanged for patriotism and rule. With her beloved no longer, a child out of feasible obtainment, all that had been left was the city. Whom else was there to tend toward her? Surely not the pair of twins nor any other individuals whom were likely presumed by Columbia’s populace.
A mother had been much needed , the caring hand being a most anticipated treatment to allay folks of their worries concerning the world below and so forth..
Obstacles betwixt them would surely be resolved by teamwork. Lutece would be the pair of eye’s she’d needed outlooks which had been capable to perceive systematic dilemmas.
“That hadn’t been my intention. What I simply mean by my words is that this piece of machinery is of far more value than the average human being and then some.”
lutecea-blog: "❝ Hasten the nation towards its destruction. ❞"
So she gathered her favourite near her with nervous twitters, genuinely nervous to hear what her R. Lutece had to say to the Queen of Heaven. What was wrong now? What ailment threatened their veritable Utopia? Was it Fink, Washington, or something in President A. Comstock’s own forces? Urgency clouded gaze as gloved hands cupped the other’s face, eyes widening behind the gauze of her veil.
Unable to convey how truly terrified she was to even hear whispers of the fall of her Utopia when hidden behind the mask of her own making, she let go. Hands flew like angel’s wings, rustling softly and gently as fingers grasped veil. Impulsively did she fling back the heavy material, revealing lined face that had not seen the light of day in nearly two decades.
