#🫐sweet nightshade

[crossroadsglade]

The workshop was eerily quiet, with only the soft scratching of a pen against paper filling the room. The moon casted a soft glow from the glass ceiling, it's beautiful blue hues coloring the workshop. A candle was lit on top of a workbench, with Belladonna hunched over a journal of sorts. She mindlessly scrawled words all across the papers, messy handwriting decorating each page.

She couldn't sleep. Not tonight. Her head pounded, her heart wept, and her eyes stung. With a twisted stomach, she sighed heavily.

"I sense your presence, Your Majesty," she spoke.

~Belladonna (@reesespieces-org)

The Tsarista’s gut twisted at what she was about to do, but it was coming from a good place. Adonis got a version of closure, so wouldn’t it be fair if Bella did too?

“You need to rest, Belladonnac before you run yourself into the ground.” ‘Capitano’’s voice echoed through the workshop as he walked over to Belladonna.

[crossroadsglade]

She drops two cubes of sugar into Belladonna’s teacup, humming slightly. She then drops one cube into her own cup with a small splash of cream. “Would you like some cream, dear?” She asks as she sets down the tongs and recovers the sugar jar. “I am sure you have many questions.” Pandemos hums as she picks up a silver spoon and starts stirring her drink. There was an air to Pandemos that was hard to pinpoint, was she sad, dismissive, disappointed, or apathetic? It was hard to tell. She taps her spoon lightly on the rim of her cup before putting it down. “On second thought, lets hold off on the cream.” She says, looking at the tarnished spoon. She just sighs and sips her drink anyways

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

Ilma jumps in surprise, turning to face Belladonna quickly. “…Um, yes?” The redhead was tense, still feeling like she was caught in the storm instead of being on solid ground

Ilma was sitting on a bench near Bella’s greenhouse, wrapped up in a really thick coat. Lyney had told her to wait there while he went and got a friend of his. The Mondstadt girl was staring at the ameno vision in her hand, rage slowly bubbling up in her chest. She clenches it tightly before drawing her arm back and throwing it with a yell

@crossroadsglade

"Oh my. Is everything alright?"

A voice asked. Standing behind the girl was Belladonna, a kind smile on her lips as she stared curiously.

[crossroadsglade]

“You did.” He says, shaking his head slightly. “I believe I told you need to stop working so long you fall asleep at your desk, little bird.”

The door to Bella’s workshop creaks open, followed by the sound of heavy steps as Capitano walks in. He sighs slightly at the sight of Bella hunched over her desk, glancing at a nearby clock that told the hours were late in the night, before walking over to her. “Belladonna.” He says, gently resting a hand on her shoulder

@crossroadsglade

Belladonna stirred as she sat up, glancing beside her at the Captain.

"Ah, good evening, Captain. Did I fall asleep..? My apologies," she murmured, her voice laced with sleep.

[crossroadsglade]

She lowers her hand, ears perking slightly. The Tsarista is splattered with blood while her hands are caked in frozen crimson crystals and what looks like frost bitten skin hangs from her claws. “Ah, Belladonna, don’t worry. I was just having a chat with Dottore.” She says with a pleasant smile

Pandemos huffs slightly as she waits for her ladies in waiting to arrive with a towel and a change of clothes for her. She shakes her head and holds up the two eyeballs to admire them as Bella rounds a corner

@crossroadsglade

"Your Majesty, I heard commotion earlier, is everything...—?!" Belladonna's words are cut short as her own eyes widen, staring at what's in the Tsaritsa's hand. What the hell?!

[crossroadsglade]

“Am I not allowed to be in my own garden, Belladonna?” She asks calmly as she picks up the large basket. “Won’t you help me pick some magnolias while you’re here, dear?” She then asks, heading towards the magnolia trees

The Tsarista was in the very back of her garden, dressed in a simple pair of red pants, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a grey waistcoat, and a pair of black gloves with het hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She was carefully picking a lily of the valley, cutting it at the base as she hears footsteps approaching. “Ah, Belladonna, what timing you have.” The Tsarista says, placing the lily into a basket of other lilies of the valley, red poppies, white carnations, and gladioli flowers.

@crossroadsglade

"Ah...you're here too," Belladonna murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion.

The Eighth was a mess; her eyes were dark with fatigue, and her skin was blotchy. Her hair was messy, and her overall glow bad diminished. She was mentally drained, her heart weary from the weight of tragedy.

[crossroadsglade]

“I am not a mind reader, Belladonna, despite what others may think.” The Tsarista says, lowering her tea cup slightly. “Speak your mind or let the flames of uncertainty consume you.”

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

She hums, eyes trained on the tarnished spoon. “I do not, but I already have those looking into this incident.” She replies calmly and sips her tea some more. “The culprit will be revealed soon enough. Once they are found, I will leave them to your mercy.” She then picks up a Sumeru delight and plops it into her mouth

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

“Belladonna, Belladonna!” The Tsarista says, gently taking the eighth’s hands into her own. Shw has rushed over as soon as she saw the smoke. “I need you to take some deep breathes for me, Ядовитый цветок.” She tells her, gently squeezing Belladonna’s hand. Pandemos’s hands were freezing, a stark contrast to the flames licking at Bell’s greenhouse and the flames in her memories.

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

“My tea!” The Tsarista cries, dismayed at the shattered tea cup. She huffs, shaking her head “A waste of good tea. How shameful.” She says, frowning

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

“I would have been fine. Do you think I have this long without building an immunity to poisons, dear Belladonna?” She asks and stands up. She walks to her fireplace and grabs a rope, pulling on it to ring a bell. Some maids rush in, quick to clean up the broken cup and spilled tea.

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

“Clearly someone lacking in admiration for all your hard work on your greenhouse.” She says bluntly as she opens the sugar bowl on the tray and pucks up some sugar tong. “How many sugar cubes do you want, Dear Nightshade?” She asks, clicking the tongs together.

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

She sits by Belladonna, gently patting her back. She then shares a look with Millie, who nods and leaves once the tea started steeping. The Lady-in-waiting has the job of checking on all of Bella’s assistants, gathering what all damaged has been done, and the Tsarista’s permission to start converting one of Pandemos’s old greenhouses into a temporary home for any plants that could have survived the fire

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

‘Capitano’ pulls a handkerchief from his coat and hands it to Belladonna silently. It was much but better then nothing when you can’t take away the grief of a child mourning their parent while a ghost tries to soothe such sorrow

The workshop was eerily quiet, with only the soft scratching of a pen against paper filling the room. The moon casted a soft glow from the glass ceiling, it's beautiful blue hues coloring the workshop. A candle was lit on top of a workbench, with Belladonna hunched over a journal of sorts. She mindlessly scrawled words all across the papers, messy handwriting decorating each page.

She couldn't sleep. Not tonight. Her head pounded, her heart wept, and her eyes stung. With a twisted stomach, she sighed heavily.

"I sense your presence, Your Majesty," she spoke.

~Belladonna (@reesespieces-org)

The Tsarista’s gut twisted at what she was about to do, but it was coming from a good place. Adonis got a version of closure, so wouldn’t it be fair if Bella did too?

“You need to rest, Belladonnac before you run yourself into the ground.” ‘Capitano’’s voice echoed through the workshop as he walked over to Belladonna.

[crossroadsglade]

“They are? My, with such a bright name I thought they would be native to Sumeru or Natlan. How silly am I.” Pandemos says with a faint chuckle. She then turns to Millie, who was preparing some Snezhnayan chamomile for their tea. “Thank you, Millie. You are always reliable.” She says to her lady-in-waiting, and Millie just nods. The Tsarista then picks up a orange colored Sumeru delight and holds it out to Belladonna. “Here, dear Nightshade, try this. This delight is clementine flavored.”

|Belladonna angst/starter|

For my non-rp followers, have some angst of my OC and let me know how I did! :D

Fire shouldn't have been able to burn like that. Not here. It shouldn't have been able to spark that high, it shouldn't have been able to burn that hot, it shouldn't have been able to glow that brightly. She couldn't get the smell of burnt foliage out of her nose, couldn't get the sounds of creaking metal and shattering glass out of her ears. The collapse of her hard work—her years long worth of work—was devastating to the Eighth. Watching it all burn down, watching as her assistants sobbed into her chest, watching everything go up in flames just like that stoked an ember in her own mind that she never wanted to remember.

It felt as if she was a girl again; dragging her sister behind her as they ran through their burning village, screams of townsfolk filling their ears as they swerved through bodies of people. They only had just a bit further, just another few miles until they were out of the town, out of the wreckage, out of the carnage. But that damned Abyss Herald caught up to them, how foolish they were to think they could get away in time. She could still hear the way her sister begged for her to go, to get out. She could still feel the warm splash of blood on her body, she could still remember the way her throat went raw from screaming so loudly in despair.

It felt as if it was happening all over again. Felt as if she was Liliya Morozova all over again; a child. Belladonna didn't seem to register the tears streaming down her face, nor the call of her own name.

Who was that?

[crossroadsglade]

While every detail about ‘Capitano’ was perfect, the glaring irregularity was the glowing cyan highlights in his black hair.

He slides a foot back, bracing himself as Belladonna jumped into his arms. He lifts her up, holding her like a child. “I’m here, Belladonna, I’m here.”‘Capitano’ says, squeezing her in a hug. May Belladonna forgive the Tsarista for her minor transgression in an effort to bring her peace.

The workshop was eerily quiet, with only the soft scratching of a pen against paper filling the room. The moon casted a soft glow from the glass ceiling, it's beautiful blue hues coloring the workshop. A candle was lit on top of a workbench, with Belladonna hunched over a journal of sorts. She mindlessly scrawled words all across the papers, messy handwriting decorating each page.

She couldn't sleep. Not tonight. Her head pounded, her heart wept, and her eyes stung. With a twisted stomach, she sighed heavily.

"I sense your presence, Your Majesty," she spoke.

~Belladonna (@reesespieces-org)

The Tsarista’s gut twisted at what she was about to do, but it was coming from a good place. Adonis got a version of closure, so wouldn’t it be fair if Bella did too?

“You need to rest, Belladonnac before you run yourself into the ground.” ‘Capitano’’s voice echoed through the workshop as he walked over to Belladonna.