~ |Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas

✣ the lady of york is the sister to the queen, used as a tool whilst the queen was with child to keep the king’s interest at bay.

“Oh my pretty reckless youth, These palace halls were made for me and you. Dreamin’ on your windowsill, You don’t live now, you never will.

So if you want to, we’ll sing another Keep it sweet all through the night.

In the end we’ll be alright"

･ﾟ ~ 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈

The life she would come to lead, the lovers that would come to pass.

A TALE;

This image depicts the moment in her life when she became most painfully aware that her life would never be hers to live. That she would always be the marionette in the world of men, where the one who was born last would only prove a vital piece in games ones would only whisper of behind closed doors. 

She desired to have a love such as her sister had, destined and decided by God that they were meant for one another. Yet a young man from a lesser house that could never elevate the power of York would never prove enough. No matter how pure and passionate the young hards, they were not in the favor of the Almighty. Her father renounced the wedding proposal and send his daughter away from the family home, to live at court with her sister. When she returned later, she found her lover gone off to war. Not a single soul certain if he would ever return from what seemed to be a losing game. - It was the day she wrote herself a letter, a contract in which she promised that she would never let her heart fall so recklessly in love ever again. A promise she would keep, up until this day. For those who love any other than those tied by blood, shall find their heart bleeding in deep burgundy tears. 

AESTHETIC OF A SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD ANNE;

—  basics.

FULL NAME.      Anne Elizabeth Neville, Lady of York PRONUNCIATION.       exactly  as written. NICKNAME.       Annie  (  by  a  select  few  close  relatives  and  confidant  ),   The wicked, Two-faced snake GENDER.         cis female. HEIGHT.         5′6  /  1.59 m. AGE & D.OB.       Thrity-four  /  25th  of September  1421. ZODIAC.         Libra. SPOKEN LANGUAGES.       English,  French, Latin and small amounts of .German & Italian

PLAYLIST 1/…. ANNE NEVILLE, LADY OF YORK

Colder heavens hiding behind honey eyes

                       ANNE  HAD  ALWAYS  BEEN  THE  SENTIMENTAL ONE  in  the  family,  and  oh  how  isabel  had  teased  her  willing  tears  in  days  gone  by,  then  again,  the  youngest  neville  girl  had  always  been  an  easy  target   for  she  and  charles.  isabel  had often  regretted  those  actions  against  her  sister,  despite  them  being  nothing  more  than  sibling  raillery,   anne’s  gentle  nature  should  have  been  nurtured  as  the  blessing  it  was,  not  a  source  of  mockery.  seeing  her  distress  now  only  affirmed  that  wish  and  made  isabel  regret  a  great  deal  more  than  just  her  childish  teasing. 

 too  much  time  had  been  lost  between  the  sisters  due  to  a  rivalry  orchestrated  by  others  and  scorn  manifested  by  a  broken  heart  –––  such  things  were  long  forgotten  in  the  moment.  perhaps  her  brush  with  death  had  awoken  her  sentimentality;  perhaps  remorse  lay  to  heavily  upon  her  chest,  or  perhaps  it  was  simply  the  heartbreak  upon her  sisters  pretty  features  that  made  tears  glaze  her  eyes.  more  likely  it  was  a  combination  of  all  three.    

❛  dearest  anne.. ❜  her  own  voice  trembled  under  the  weight  of  her  emotion,  her  smile  gentle  as  she  gazed  upon  the  angelic  visage  before  her.  she  let  the  younger  woman  fuss,  enveloping  her  hand  with  her  own  in  a  hope  of  soothing  her  fears  and  the  anguish  set  upon  her  features.  ❛  i  am  quite  recovered,  sweet  sister,  you  need  not  fret,  i  assure  you. ❜  her  words  were  not  strictly  true,  but  isabel  was  nothing  if  not  obstinate  to  the  core,  in  sickness  and  health.  ❛   i  shall  receive  only  a  few,  i  promise.  but  i  must  be  seen,  i  cannot  have  my  enemies  thinking  they  have  struck  me  down  for  good.  ❜  a  flare  of  the  old  isabel  flickered  in  her  gaze,  but  was  quickly  replaced  by  fatigue  and  she  softened  once  more. 

 ❛  they  tell  me  you  have  been  caring  for  my  little  anne,  tell  me  how  she  fares ?  i  have  been  worrying  about  her  all  morning. ❜ 

At times, it appeared that all of the Neville blood had inherited eyes that were unwilling to tear up. Hearts unable to burst in emotion and set free a flood. All, accept for Anne. Even from a young age, she had not been able to hold it back like her siblings could. They were in no way made of stone.  Isabel with her flirtatious and gracious bearing that always demanded respect and Charles with his charming smile and driven nature. But non seem to know the floods and storms that raged within the Neville’s youngest daughter. They had teased her with it, until she had learned how to lock it up and keep it in. Letting her emotions rage on the inside but never truly showing. Few things triggered her truest nature any longer but if anything a family crisis would. Especially one that involved the health of her sister. No matter how many nights she had to weather her wild tantrums or her cold icy glares when she was somehow reminded of Anne’s betrayal, or the envy she felt when looking at her sister with her husband and children, claws of longing tearing at her heart time and time again. She would endure it every minute of every hour for her love was greater than all else. - and to her surprise, she believed to catch a glimpse of glistening tears in her sister’s eye as well. Wondering if it were the frailty caused by the battle against the poison that broke down the walls or perhaps the realization after all those years that in heart Anne never wished her any harm. Either way, she couldn’t help but to choke once more at the sight and sound of her weakened sister. 

The hand that accepted her touch soothed her slightly, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the other. Attempting to keep the red from her eyes and hold her head up high. It was the bellicose spark in Isabel’s as she spoke of sending a message to her enemies that gave her the most hope and soothed her worrying mind in the slightest way. Admirable did not cut it when one would describe the unyielding stance she portrayed, but it did not take all the worry away. She wasn’t born yesterday, nor was such the first day she got acquainted with her darling sister.  Until the bitterest end, she would even die with a prideful smile on her face mocking all who would dare wish her ill. “I understand that the one who wish harm upon the English Royal family should see the strength they harbor. How it’s queen can withstand all and will not yield to such cowardice  and treachery. I do not believe that the healing proces goes as fast as you would like it to, and I beg you to gather your strength. Focus on your healing rather than meeting with nobility. - give me your word it will only be a few.”

A little squeeze of her sister’s hand and a gentle smile playing on her features changed her worried look slightly at the mention of little Anne. “She fares well, Izzy. A true miracle she is, brave and gracious like her mother, she has been distracting my mind of the gloom. The strength to carry on I hope we draw from one another. - Has she not barged in the door yet? The physicians could barely hold her back. She already picked flowers to put by your bedside when she is allowed to visit you.”

      “Absurdity, that you could ever offer cruelty nor insolence from your tongue. You deem your company humble, yet I can fashion no more cheerful society then your own.” Acquiescence and a paused followed his gentile remarks; her flushed cheeks cleared to their usual color, softening her visage. There was little changed in Anne since her time in Italy - something fortified, sterner was now solidified in her nature, yet she was still his sister-in law, still distinctly the Lady of York. “Such asylum you offer me in the strength of your language - I do indeed fashion you a desirable partner in all matters of storms, whether they be rains of literal or proverbial nature.” His countenance teeming with mirth, he was glad to see her seated beside him; fitted with a glass of spirits, and in a spirited mood. For so long she had functioned as a sensible hermit, all emotions locked up in store, as if for the coming winter months; preserved from Isabel’s ice for a season, but denied the warmth of all other interaction. The natural sequel to their shameful dalliance was a lack of communication; emotions of a filial and pious nature bound them to find clemency, in a renewed friendship. 

     “Your system bore a good share of suffering - I do not begrudge you for retreating to the sanctity of your own company. It is only a regret of mine, to not entreat you in a humble offer of friendship.” Disabled by his own morose weight of guilt, he could not have earlier aided her in word or gesture; his goodness halted at the threshold of her door, ‘til Florence gave them a sight for reunion. They sat in comparative ease, hoping to inhabit a friendly spirit in the most natural fashion possible. “A poor time seems an impossible feat to accomplish in our dear host city - this evening, as all others have before it, has been passed in a most pleasing fashion. My audience boasts a splendid assemblage of figures, does it not? My lady would be glad to tour such a hall, if she was not engaged.” Edward knew not if Isabel remained a contentious point of conversation between them - did she conjure feelings of sisterly warmth in Anne’s breast, or seek to stir the foul specters of remorse? Rarely could he manage language that did not invoke his wife’s name; but in Anne’s presence, she would be better reduced. “Italy has become a place of solace to you, has it not? Your time must be filled with your peers and ardent admirers, on such a triumphant return such as this. “

“Your kind description of my character humbles me greatly, your highness. I could not be more honored to be seen in such a way in the eyes of our great king, but I fear I fail to see what your words describe when looking at my own reflection.” Years of braving storms in the form of her sister’s temperament had dulled her emotions a great deal, as well as making her careful of her every move. Mainly around family members and the king himself. Knowing her for so long, surely he could easily point her change in character over the years. Delicate features remaining the same but the glimmer in her eyes growing colder as she endured emotional defeat time after time again. She was a York in many ways, and she would never wish to be anything but a member of one of the most powerful families of England. At times she simply wished she had inherited the heart of one, like her siblings had. One that did not feel in such bursts of emotion, nor knew the heartache of unfulfillment. - “It was not my heart’s desire to retreat and take my fair time to find tranquillity within my own mind, but it has healed me and granted me strength to now sit beside you as the lady you know within heart. There is nothing your highness should regret, for I fear I would have turned you down had you offered me this seat and a renewal of our bond any earlier. This city knows its curses, but I can only thank God for the arrangement of this reunion at this given time.” 

She brought the goblet to her lips to take a sip of the sweet wine that was offered to her, her smile not faltering for a single moment. The anxious feeling slowly faded the longer she was in the presence of the king, as a familiar ease began to wash over her in gentle waves. She had little illusion that their friendship would mend in one evening, for too much damage had been done over the years, but hope had returned on the horizon. 

“The merriment is endless at any social event I have intended so far and I am happy to hear your Majesty has experienced the same.” At the mentioning of her sister, her well-kept masked failed her briefly. There was no ill feeling that she harbored against Isabel. In fact it was quite the contrary. How she would enjoy to spend the evening in the company alongside her and her husband but she feared how it may come to an end. Anne would have to watch her every word, walk on eggshells so as not to make the slightest gesture that could be mistaken for anything but friendly intent. To reunite with Edward was one thing, to be in the presence of the both of them at the same time was something of another level. Something she did not yet dare to brave. - Yet she placed a warm smile upon her features at the mention of her sister’s name, praying that her king wouldn’t simply see through it. “Unfortunate indeed. May I ask what had kept her occupied from joining you at this splendid event? Knowing my sister, she would be absolutely in her element here. I can hardly recall the last time that the two of us danced together. Florence undoubtedly would be a suitable place to relieve old sentiments” she paused, honey-colored eyes gazing into the crowd that had taken to dancing to the cheerful tune of flute and lute. The skirts of ornate dresses swaying along with every movement of the feet of its wearer. There was not one who seemed to be out of step, every single one beautifully synchronized with their partner. “Although there is nothing that shall capture my heart like the English court, where I was raised and I got to know my first true love, your observations are correct. I feel blessed to have found like-minded men and women  and although I admit  there have been admirers, none have managed to capture my interest. - Perhaps I shall make truth of the rumors they tell of me, that I shall die an old spinster. Having a sister who set the example of existence of true love, there is little these admirers can say that even holds a candle to such. ”

CHALLENGE 4 FOR  ANNE NEVILLE, LADY OF YORK - CHARACTER STUDIES

Graphics inspired by Mcousland

ests & sources used: 1 - Zodiac, 2 - MTBI , 3 - Alignment, 4 - Instinctual enneagram , 5 - Greek Diety, 6 - Elements, 7 - Celtict tree, 8 - Four temperaments 

Results & Assessment found below 

STATS

Name:  Chryseïs Blanco

Nickname or alias: The Nymph

Character age: Thirty-four

Date of birth: February 2nd 1686

Pronouns: She

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Faceclaim: Zhu Zhu

PERSONALITY

Resilient,  Enchanting, Empathetic,

Aloof, Impetuous, Private

QUESTIONS

What rank is your character trying to be? Are they looking to be captain of their own ship, first mate, or will they take what they can get? Do they have any special skills that relate to seafaring?

Over the years, she has been taught how to navigate by the stars. Her mother herself taught her how to look at the ocean waves, to feel the salty breeze and predict the weather. She is an excellent navigator, a woman whom the waves seem to favor and even the roughest oceans will calm for. Born gifted, she seems to carry on her mother’s mythical legacy and knows every tale of old the pirates whisper in the night.

Why does your character go to sea? What are they looking to find?

Even though it was never her mother’s desire to spend her life at sea, and perhaps would have wanted a different life for her child, Cissi simply does not know what it means to live another life. What else could here be but sailing the world, chasing after the next new thrill of adventure.  She revels in the sensation and enjoys the name she has made for herself in the pirate world, even though it might only be whispered in the backrooms.  In the back of her mind she might have a dream of finding riches to settle somewhere on a nice shore to spend what’s left of her years on this earth in peace. A dream she might be fooling herself with, for she would probably end up a shell of the woman she once was if she would abandon her sea-born heart.  As she is finally freed of her chains, she wants to make her own mark on the world. There would be nothing worse than dying a nobody, who non would remember. Letting a legacy that once burned bright die.

HEADCANONS

Her mother went by the nickname of ‘the Sea Witch’, or by the one Chryseïs’s father picked for her. At times calling her ‘Sycorax’ in an almost loving way, after the powerful witch of a Shakespeare play. Her mother was a prize from one of her father’s raids in Imperial China. He kept her as well as their child like a treasured prize. A magic token that would bring him and his crew luck and good fortune. - After he, and more than half of his crew, died in a gruesome battle Cissi and her mother were captured and traded on high-prized markets . Word had spread that the sea-witch and her child could predict the storms and even manipulate the weather in favor of the ship they sailed on. That it made their captains invincible when treated right. Not all honored the woman they considered touched by the divine. Her mother died at an early age 29 was 14, by the hands of a young, ruthless captain that had attempted to capture and take charge of the ship they were on.

Her late father was a lover of poetry and used to be the son of a wealthy Spanish merchant and tradesman before he turned against the law and was disowned. In his upbringing he had learned how to read. There are very few memories Cissi has of him, nor does she really remember what he looks like. All she had left is a book van inherited and  she carries with her. Filled with old poetry she can hardly understand. She has kept it with her all this time for sentimental reasons, as she can barely read any of it herself.

After her mother died, Chryseïs was captured once more in a failed attempt to escape. The never ending cycle continued as it always had but something had snapped inside of the young girl. A light went out, the moment she was her mother die before her own eyes. The trust she had had in the codes of piracy was violated and never before had she felt as hopeless and angry at the same time. The cycle continued non the less, herself being traded between ships. Sold to the highest bidder to have her sit around as a bird in a pretty cage. A moving, talking figurehead that would protect from harm.

Extended Character Development pt. 1

“In the mirror,  she would practise looking happy, coy, flirtatious, heartbroken, sad, lovestruck. But the one emotion she was not allowed to openly display was anger” 

— basics.

FULL NAME.      Chryseïs Seladon Ming Yu Blanco PRONUNCIATION.       Kry-see-is NICKNAME.       The Nymph, Cissi GENDER.         cis female. HEIGHT.         5′6  /  1.59 m. AGE & D.OB.       Thrity-four  /  25th  of September  1421. ZODIAC.         Libra.

—  physical  characteristics.

HAIR COLOR.        Onyx black  EYE COLOR.         Dark saddle-brown eyes SKIN TONE.         Blush toned skin with cool undertones BODY TYPE.       Petit with a touch of slender, triangle shaped DOMINANT HAND.         right  hand  dominant. POSTURE.          Elegant. SCARS.         none  noteworthy. TATTOOS.         none BIRTHMARKS.         A  small cluster of freckles  right below her right collarbone MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).       Her long, straight hair that, when worn loose, reaches down just below the small of her back & delicate facial features that are very able to hide most emotion. 

Quiet, it was what he thought when he saw her, sat looking at the waves as if she belonged there. There was very little quiet on Tortuga - people didn’t like to sit still. It was one of the reasons he never enjoyed coming to shore, you could be alone when they were at sea, find peace, on this island it was only noise and chaos. 

“You make a good point” He came to sit next to her, “My behavior is certainly suspicious,” He risked a glance behind him, at the mess that was the main part of the island, before turning his attention back to the sea, “I must be the strange one, I would rather sail at sea then get drunk on land. We’re meant to do this for the gold, the prizes, make as much as we can and then come back and piss it all away. What pirates we both are, staring at the ocean whilst Tortuga happens behind us.”

An anxious feeling washed over her as the man carelessly sat down beside her, making her half-smile falter briefly before she suppressed the overwhelming emotion. One day she would have to get used to ‘normal’ interactions. To companionship and friendly gestures, and of people not keeping her at least two arm’s length, in fear of curses or other deadly matters. - It had been an illusion of her mind to think that she would so easily get used to being unknown, a nobody. That fitting into the pirate society of Tortuga was as easy as a blink of an eye. Two months on the island and she still remained almost clueless on how most people on the island so freely interacted with one another. But again, she was obviously the odd one out. 

Luckily, this stranger seemed at least by far one of the most reasonable men she had met yet. She understood his longing to be at sea. Sailing the horizon in search for answers, gold or the end of the world. Though the more time she spend on land she started to realize that maybe it wasn’t even any of that. That her body just desired to be out there, only to quench the unexplained thirst that grew stronger day by day. “It seems we are strange souls indeed amongst this crowd of rowdy drunkards and overindulged magpies.” she spoke softly, as she too returned her gaze to sea to let the waves captivate her once more. “I wonder though if there is less happening right before us, in and under the waves, simply because the ocean does not scream as loud. Or snore as loud, if we talk about the present state of the island.” A grin flashed her pearly whites, humored by her own remark as well as the image in her head of hung over sailors scattered across the island “You’re a man, perhaps not as rowdy looking as some but to my eyes just as much of a pirate as any other present on the island. Why does the land not speak to you like it does to all the others?”

Roberts loved Tortuga in the morning. Just after sunrise, the Island looked nothing like it did in the night. The hot Carribean sun transformed the land into a shining paradise. Carefully he stepped over the collapsed bodies of drunk pirates. 

He had always felt out of place - his nights never ended with him passed out, recovering from brawls and vices, it wasn’t in his nature. yet on these mornings, with the sun on his skin, he felt oddly at home. 

It was rare, to find another soul this early in the morning, so rare that Edward could not help but call out to them - “I’m not sure I should trust you, out this early in the morning, this is Tortuga, no self-respecting person is awake before midday.”

From a very young age, right down to adulthood, Chryseïs had always been an early riser. Perhaps it was passed on down through the genes from her mother’s side or perhaps the basic survival instinct of staying out of harm’s way when the pirates were brawling at night was the trigger. Either way, she never failed to be in awe at the sight of the land at dawn. When the first rays of lights gently warmed the earth and all that lived on it and the world came to life again. Everything touched by dewdrops sparkled like precious stone. It almost felt.. magical. Combined with the serenity of most of the people still sleeping, made her feel more comfortable than she would ever be in bustling streets. 

She had been sitting by to shore, unaware of how much time was passing other then watching the sun climb higher into the clear blue sky. Gazing at the horizon, listening to the calm waves sing their soft melody, when the peace was disturbed by a voice calling out. Had she not been of such cautious nature, the smile she portrayed on her features might have been more broad. Instead, it was but a uncertain half-smile as her deep, dark eyes examined the unfamiliar man. “I could say the exact same, good sir. And in my defense, some women on this island are far less rowdy and addicted to the liquor than the men. - Which might put the label of suspicious behavior back on you.”

Toño stands up from the dead body, throwing a bag of coins over his shoulder and a new gold chain dangling off his fingers.

“Go on, then.” He addresses the spectator. “Speak your mind.”

“They say that speech is silver, but silence is golden” Chryseïs spoke carefully, not lifting her eyes from the cold body on the ground. Seemingly in trance by the look of death painted on the face of the unfortunate man and caring little for the dark-haired fellow’s newly gained fortune. It wasn’t like she had never seen such thing before. Growing up around pirates made it almost inevitable to escape the sight of death. But no matter how often it looked you in the eye, it always left a strange sensation, a mark, on the area.

 “And it seems…- “ She continued after what seemed to be too long of a pauze. Her voice slow and patient as her dark hues finally lifted to meet with his. “It seems that you much prefer gold over silver.”

Moodboard 1/… -  Duchess Alice Seymour & Laird Evander Duncan ft. Edward William Duncan 

he could not help but grin at himself at her flustered reply; he had clearly disturbed a moment of self-introspection. or perhaps simply a young woman admiring the gardens without constraints. either way, evander surmised it was meant to be private and he had stumbled into what she thought was perhaps blissful loneliness. truthfully, he was expecting to be accused of eavesdropping — most caught in an unexpectedly private moment tended to respond with indignant anger. she, however, was apologizing to him.

“no, no, not at all, really,” evander replied, trying to brush off quickly whatever shame she felt as he too began his trek around the sculpture, “it is i that should be apologizing, after all you — ” his throat went dry as soon as his gaze fell upon her face. he tried to speak, to make sense of what was in front of him, but the words came not. then she spoke. his sightings of her never spoke; they only teased him with moments that could never be. not again.

“pardon, milady, i have kept ye for too long, excuse me,” evander finally choked out, needing to get away from this doppelganger before he behaved indecently and far too familiar with the poor woman. he turned to leave, brows furrowed as his purposefully kept his eyes to the ground, refusing to look at her.

If this was a mirage, something unreal and of the mind, there would not be a change in his features the moment his eyes settled upon her. A change in his speech and the same confusion written all over. In her dreams he never looked confused, pained by the sight of her. He would smile, always.  Fine lines hadn’t settled, the years hadn’t worn them like they did in this broad daylight. They would lose silly titles and just be simple. Those were all dreams, but this… His voice, though choked, was real and present. - Her body felt almost numb, her feet unwilling to move in the direction her heart wished to go. Forget-me-not hues wacthed anguished as he turned his back on her, excusing himself for keeping her too long. It was as if images of her once beloved leaving her estate on horseback were played in her mind once more, and again she would idly have to stand by and go through the pain of a loveless dagger piercing her gentle heart. 

“Don’t go.” she called out, though her voice wouldn’t go much louder than a breathless whisper. He had left her one too many times in her dreams, leaving her calling out his name in a haze as she tried to reach him. Always just inches from her grasp. “Don’t leave me again.” Her porcelain hand reached out, fingers stretched and against every rule of formality wrapping around his strong arm to keep him from leaving. Instead of disapearing into thin air, he remained. Her hand finally touched what she had lost and longed for for so long. The reality took her by surprise, left her breathless, but her small hand refused to let go. “Evander”