#Antonie Bitters

[jyoongim]

🎻 ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℜ𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔬🎻

Chapter One

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The bitter cold of winter has finally given way to the refreshing warmth of spring. As the spring season rolls in, life and flowers are back in bloom. But that is not the only thing in bloom, no no no.

Many youth from prestigious families are in bloom as well. The refreshing air of spring has given way to the start of the biggest social event in the South.

The Marriage Market.

A time where once youthful elites, now must enter society and find a suitable match, whether that be for love or business, to secure high status.

Will this season’s market be successful? Will there be scandal? Will there be a love match made and a wedding this season?

Well, I guess that is something we should wait to see isn’t it my dear readers?

———————————————————————————————

The gentle rocking of the carriage was luring you to sleep as you watched the scenery go by. The greenery and the smell of honeysuckles always had a special place in your heart. You always loved the country, preferring the quiet hum of the bayou over the hustle and bustle of the city, but you guessed you didn’t mind the jazz and festivities that lied in the city.

“Dearest?” The sound of your mother’s concerning tone made you turn your head, not knowing if she was referring to you or at one of your sisters. She was staring at you with a quirked brow.

Yep. Definitely you.

”did you hear me?”

you gave another look out the window, shaking your head “what did you say?” Your mother sucked her teeth “I asked if you were excited. Its your first season.” A soft smile appeared on your lips “hmm I don’t know yet. Maybe it’ll finally set in once I debut. I am excited to see my friends”

Your mother smiled “I heard Charlotte was debuting as well, oh I can’t wait to see how that girl has grown”

Your sisters were chatting  among themselves quietly. 

Your mother continued “We have much to prepare for dearest. This season I am hoping to have a wedding to plan by the end. Your brother wrote to me that he has found several prospects for you to look into” You rolled your eyes “Oh because he has such great taste in the marriage world. Mama please.” You laughed.

The carriage stopped and your mother stepped out. The servants bowed in greeting and began to gathering y’all things to bring into the estate.

Your sisters ran ahead inside to their rooms and you and your mother walked inside, your mother calling for your brother.

”Ah! Mother! Sister!” A voice called excitedly and your brother appeared smiling. He embraced your  mother, giving her a kiss on the cheek and you as well.

You figured they had business to discuss and left them be as you went to the balcony.

Many families were returning and you catch sight of Charlie. You waved once you caught her attention, sitting down watching the people.

Antony, Angel, hollered up at you when he jumped out of his car, making you laugh when his mother hit his shoulder to get inside the house.

You hoped to have a chance to speak with them while the events were happening.

The season.

You were the first daughter of the prestigious Biche family. One of the most influential and wealthy families to live in the South.

Your family made money by investing in sugarcane fields and horses.

You knew you were the potential prize to many of the men of the ton

”Why don’t you rest up dear? You have a busy day ahead of you” your mother chirped from the drawing room, unpacking a few knick knacks.

You nodded and headed upstairs to your room.

The servants already had your nightgown out and you changed and got into bed.

You read a little until the sky turned dark and laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow started the beginning of the season. You didn’t know what to expect, but you felt a little excited.

Will you meet the perfect gentleman? Would you be able to find a match? You hoped to marry for love, you didn’t need status or any material things. Just a nice man who loved you for you.

You remembered how your father was with your mother and you hoped to find those same qualities in a man.

After all…marriage was about love right? That’s what your mother always said.

——————————————————————————————————

Taglist:

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[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Imagine, for a moment, that you're Octavian in 36 BCE.

No, bear with me - imagine you're a cold, hungry, waterlogged Octavian hiding in a seaside cave with a single bodyguard, half-dead of exhaustion.

You are hiding from Sextus Pompey, who destroyed your fleet for the third time, whose men are patrolling Italy. And you're hiding from other Romans, who blame you for the famine, though it's Sextus depriving them of grain shipments.

Eight years ago, a comet flew over Caesar's funeral games, and you were certain the gods had chosen you to avenge him.

Eight hours ago, you asked a friend to stab you, lest you be caught by the "Son of Neptune."

How sweet the landing in Sicily was, when you thought Agrippa had beaten Sextus. How bitter, the blood on your tongue, when Sextus' men encircled yours. Cornificius told you to sail off, said it'd all be for nothing if you were captured, but every piece of driftwood that washes up beside you feels like an accusation. How many men died so you could escape? Did Sextus let Agrippa surrender, or did he return the favor from seven years earlier?

You signed off on the proscriptions, back then, and didn't look too closely at the list. A conscience was a luxury you could not afford.

An hour ago, one of your own officers tried to kill you: his father was apparently one of your victims.

You don't feel guilty for it - you must not break, not while Italy is starving, and the men in Sicily are counting on you to get them out, and Antony is probably cavorting with some eastern queen this very minute instead of lifting a finger to help.

But with only the detritus of your ships, and the cave beetles, and a lone sentry for followers, it's clear that you've been doing something wrong. Perhaps many things. Agrippa never argued with your choices, but it's been a long, long time since he smiled.

Agrippa would never have surrendered to Sextus, which means--no. You will not feel guilty. Even though you're the one who put him in charge of a fleet with no naval experience against the most dangerous pirate alive. You won't feel guilty, though any of those forgotten names on the proscription list might have been someone else's Agrippa.

You won't feel guilty, because once you start, you'll never stop having--

"Agrippa is in Sicily!"

The centurion's armor gleams so brightly it hurts your eyes, but you squint enough to recognize him, and you barely register friendlies hauling you up, slapping the sand out of your tunic, joking about your "fine accommodations" and - and that scroll they're handing you, that's Agrippa's writing.

Partial success. Pompey confined to Messana. Cornificius with me. Legions ready to transport; with Lepidus, 23 total.

Twenty-three legions could crush Hannibal, never mind Sextus Pompey. Only Agrippa would call almost ending the war overnight a "partial success." No comet-omens or famous names to swell his head.

You've been doing a lot of things wrong. A lot of things that are wrong. But arrogance is another luxury, and you are done paying its price.

A week later, Agrippa has shattered Sextus. The traitor Lepidus begs for his life at your feet. You remember the proscriptions, the massacres, the boy who tried to avenge his father upon you, just as you did to Brutus.

You leave Lepidus in exile, humiliated but alive, and let his soldiers return home.

It's time to rebuild Italy.

~

-Loosely based on Appian, BC 5. 96–122, Dio 49. 1. 1–16. 2, and Suetonius, Augustus 16. 1–3.

[tethered-heartstrings]

There is a very clear difference to how Hannibal commits violence against Will compared to others. Sometimes there is the air of him doing it for pleasure, but often it’s out of necessity, self-preservation. He killed Tobias and Antony to keep his secret, he fought Jack in “Mizumono” to stay alive. While it was “I need to do this”, part of it was “because I want to”, versus with Will it was “I have to”. He didn’t necessarily want to harm Will like he did the others, but he had to protect himself, whether physically from prison or emotionally from betrayal. But there is a hesitancy with violence towards Will because he cares about him. He knows he has to inflict pain, but he wants, needs, that pain to be survivable, tolerable, forgivable. There is a deep-rooted fear that Will may not forgive him. What if this act is the final straw and there is no going back.? Still, it’s a need that cannot be ignored, it has to be done. With tears in his eyes, it must be done. And the only thing he can give amongst all the inevitable suffering is a bit of kindness, a small touch of love. A little token of “please just trust me. Trust that I don’t want to do this, but I have to, and I would do anything else if I could.” Hannibal wants the best for Will and is burdened with dealing him the worst. A violence he knows too intimately, and he has no choice but to extend it to someone he loves. An ache deep in his core spread through a trembling, hesitant touch. One last good brush of skin before the spill of blood. A tuck of hair behind the ear and a plead from his soul that this won’t be the time he loses Will forever.

So when Will forgives him in the catacombs, it’s a relief that yes, he was forgiven, he didn’t lose him. But a bitter ache crawled up from his mending heart knowing he had to eat him, and it’d be final. There would be no Will Graham left to forgive him. The least he could do is extend that love once more. Tend to his wounds, hold him, pet his hair, feed him, make it so Will doesn’t feel too much pain. And when it all falls to pieces, he is left in limbo awaiting Will’s forgiveness, hoping against all odds that he could turn back time and go back to a place where they were okay again. But it was the final straw. Will didn’t want him. Will wouldn’t miss him like he’d miss Will. Years and distance separate them, but it could never fully rip them apart. Because at the end of it all Will forgave him. Wanted him. Chose him. Loved him. Despite all the violence and bloodshed and tears, it was all worth it if it meant ending up in each other’s arms. To be the last thing the others feels with no more time left to worry about forgiveness because he will have it for eternity.

[good-old-gossip]

“It takes a lot to get the diplomats of the Middle East to agree on anything. The behaviour of one man over the last eight months of the war in Gaza has, however, forged a consensus rare among such a group: Antony Blinken cannot be trusted.

The US secretary of state’s powers of turning reality on its head have raised the eyebrows of even practised cynics.

It is a complaint that resounds from Doha to Amman, Cairo, Tel Aviv and Ankara. Blinken is currently engaged in what one of his predecessors, James Baker, called “dead cat diplomacy”.

Baker’s pupil, Aaron David Miller, wrote on X (formerly Twitter): “The objective is not to reach a deal but to ensure if it fails, the dead cat is on other’s doorstep.”

The dead, or dying, cat of the moment is a ceasefire deal in Gaza that holds.

At every stage in this eight-month war, US diplomacy has showed its weakness, and it bears a heavy responsibility for where this has now landed both Israel and US forces in the region.

As things stand, and with the active complicity of Blinken, the gap between Israel and Hamas will not be bridged, even though the truth is that the gap between the US and Israel is much larger than that between the US or the UN and Hamas.

Both Hamas and the US, and the 13 other members of the UN Security Council that voted for the resolution, want an immediate and permanent ceasefire.

Israel is in a minority of one in making sure that does not happen, knowing that neither Blinken nor Biden has the political capital left to stop it.

To carry on the war in Gaza is to ensure that the escalation of the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah will continue, with each side striking deeper into each other’s territory.

The surest method of de-escalation on the northern border is to secure an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

I cannot think of any other time during the 76 years of this bitter conflict, when an Israeli leadership has been so obdurate in pursuing war aims that are unachievable - and a US president so weak and powerless to stop it.”

✍️ by David Hearst

[worst-siblings-tournament]

Round 2, Match 15

Catherine and Hindley Earnshaw (Limbus Company) vs John Wilkes and Edwin Booth (US history)

Propaganda under break. Limbus Company Canto VI spoilers.

Catherine and Hindley Earnshaw

Catherine died, and in her will left her brother the gift of forcing him to go to rehab. she also made sure the method of transportation she provided was Evil Train that traps you for 1000 years

John Wilkes and Edwin Booth

They were actors which is fine. Except. Edwin was better and John was bitter. And the John assassinated the President while delivering a line well associated with Edwin's Brutus. Edwin (already on the outs with John) disowned his brother after that.

Poll Runner's Note: Also their brother Junius Brutus Booth Jr was arrested because of John Wilkes Booth shooting the president. And the three of them had just done Julius Caesar in 1864 (John Wilkes was Mark Antony and Junius was Crassus), the year before the assassination.

One of Junius' other famous roles was as King John, also in this tournament!

[sirianasims]

Chapter 24

Just Give Me a Reason

Shortly after Freya’s first birthday, we found ourselves back in Britechester for Jamie and Athena’s wedding. That was definitely not something I’d seen coming.

But I was happy for them, even if I could feel my own bitterness simmering underneath. I would never have what they clearly had.

It was nice to see all my old university friends again, though. I hadn’t really kept in touch with Cierra, Ivan and the others since we graduated.

Katherine felt awkward being there, obviously. Not only was she surrounded by former students, but everyone knew our story by now. And her old house was just across the canal from here.

I saw her wiping a tear away, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to her.

Instead, I was catching up with Ivan. We even laughed about how I’d once tried to hide that I slept with Katherine. He told me that the second he had asked at the festival, the guilty look on my face had confirmed everything.

Jamie and Athena were both straight edge health nuts, so it was an alcohol-free wedding, but I still managed to have a pretty good time sober.

Katherine came over and told me that she would like to go for a brief walk. Just to have a look around her old neighbourhood. Athena heard her, and gave me a worried look.

I had a flashback to the look Athena gave me in the library a few years ago when Katherine had asked me to meet her in her office. But I shrugged and told Katherine to do whatever she wanted.

She left and Athena sat down next to me.

“I think she wanted you to go with her”, she said quietly.

That hadn’t occurred to me at all.

I lost myself in conversation again as Katherine headed towards her old home.

When she reached the house, she ran into Antony, who was just about to leave. And he wasn’t alone. But they had already seen her, so she had no other option than saying hello.

Antony happily introduced her to his girlfriend Amber.

Or rather fiancée. They’d gotten engaged a few weeks before. Amber cheerfully showed off her enormous diamond ring.

She congratulated them, and Antony even politely asked how our daughter was doing. He and Amber seemed genuinely happy and in love.

Katherine said goodbye as quickly as she could without being rude.

When she came back to Jamie and Athena’s house, she was visibly upset. She told me what had happened.

I was not impressed. I felt like she was asking to be hurt by going anywhere near her ex-husband or his house.

We traveled home mostly in silence.

beginning / previous / next

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Any chance Antoni wants to share how he's doing today?

He sits at the kitchen table, the fingers of one hand loosely curled around the handle of his mug of tea, the other hand supporting his chin. The look in his dark brown eyes is distant, seeing something far beyond the wall he seems to be staring at. His hair is missed and a little overlong, needing a cut but he hasn't had the energy for it.

Not for a while.

He doesn't see her at first, because she stands in the doorway off to one side, perfectly silent. It could be seconds - it could be minutes.

But when he sits back, he catches a flash of bright blue from the corner of his eye and jumps, heart skipping, thinking for just a moment he sees the woman, with her dulled eyes and dark bruises and incongruous luxury, the woman who wore furs and bloodied lower lips with an equal lack of understanding.

Then he realizes, time crashes its layers together, and his heart beats again. "Chort voz'mi!"

Nova stares at him, almost unblinking. She is, as always, impeccably made up, with a carefully casual updo and thrift store clothes that she wears like they cost more than this house. "Are you sad?" Her voice is oddly light for the question, vaguely curious, not concerned.

He swallows, shrugging, looking away from her and back down at his mug. He forgot the tea for too long - when he sips, it's lukewarm and too bitter. "No. Only thinking. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Maybe you looked sad." She shrugs. "Is there any breakfast left?"

"Mmmn. Somewhere. Fridge, maybe."

Her eyes narrow, looking him over. Nova looks at everyone like a math problem to be solved, and he wonders what calculations she has made about him. "You always cook breakfast."

"Yes, well. I did not today." He puts the mug down and winces as it cracks too loud against the table, but at least it doesn't break. "There is plenty to eat."

"But-"

"I did not cook today." His voice is chilled, now, each word carefully spoken with perfect articulation. "Please feel free to eat anything you like."

Her eyebrows raise. "Oh, you are sad. What are you sad about?"

"I do not talk about it."

"Why not?" She moves into the room with artificial grace, leaning over with her back straight to look into the fridge. When she turns to look back at him over her shoulder, curling tendrils of hair frame her face, just the way she wants them to. "Dr. Berger says-"

"You are not Dr. Berger. And I do not talk about it."

"Well... Fine." She pours herself some milk after smelling the top to check if it's still good, then turns to look at him as she drinks, eyebrows raising. "I don't actually care, you know."

That manages to pull from him a faint, faded smile. "Yes, you do. Or you would not ask."

"I'm just being polite."

"You do not care about being polite."

"No, I don't." She thinks about it. "But I care about you."

"What? Why?"

Nova doesn't answer. She sets the glass down, emptied and still marked with milk, and then swans out of the room, leaving him staring, baffled, after her.

[storybooke]

𝑀. — MARGUERITE AND MORALITY, PART I: The Denunciation of the Marquis de St. Cyr.

Choices, consequences, and the weight of those consequences are some of the most important aspects of the original novel, and most of all, Marguerite’s storyline, with her actions dictating the events of the narrative, and even life and death for many of the characters. From the denunciation of St. Cyr, to the fate of her brother, Armand, Marguerite is constantly put in extremely demanding circumstances, all of which affect her deeply, and cause somewhat of a moral crisis for most of the novel. 

What Marguerite fears, most of all, is being a bad person — a fear which is reflected in many of her actions and how she weighs them. This fear and moral conflict is one of the key aspects of her character in the novel, and one aspect that many adaptations tend to fumble on, either by undermining or completely devaluing the weight of her actions entirely.

In order to understand Marguerite’s moral compass, her actions and how she processes them, I want to look at two events that I believe are crucial to understanding this aspect of her character:

The incident with St. Cyr.

her blackmailing via Chauvelin.

With these being the two events that she has the most direct involvement in throughout the novel, Marguerite’s motivations are portrayed directly, yet, like most aspects of the novel, they are not completely black and white. To say that Marguerite is entirely innocent or entirely guilty would be an oversimplification, and there are many underlying aspects to them that must be taken into consideration in order to understand Marguerite’s place in the narrative.

A/N: This is the first part of an (intended) two part meta. Given the length of this meta in its entirety and how loaded the subjects are, I thought it best to split it. This is only covering Marguerite's involvement in St. Cyr's death and the ramifications it had on her morality.

“Ah, yes,” added the Comtesse, whilst a look of haughty disdain and intense bitterness shot through her melancholy eyes. “There was that woman, Marguerite St. Just, for instance. She denounced the Marquis de St. Cyr and all his family to the awful tribunal of the Terror.” “Marguerite St. Just?” said Lord Antony, as he shot a quick and apprehensive glance across at Sir Andrew. “Marguerite St. Just?—Surely . . .” (...) “No mistake is possible, Monsieur,” rejoined the Comtesse, coldly. “Marguerite St. Just’s brother is a noted republican. There was some talk of a family feud between him and my cousin, the Marquis de St. Cyr. The St. Justs’ are quite plebeian, and the republican government employs many spies. I assure you there is no mistake. . . . You had not heard this story?” “Faith, Madame, I did hear some vague rumours of it, but in England no one would credit it. . . . Sir Percy Blakeney, her husband, is a very wealthy man, of high social position, the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales . . . and Lady Blakeney leads both fashion and society in London.” “That may be, Monsieur, and we shall, of course, lead a very quiet life in England, but I pray God that while I remain in this beautiful country, I may never meet Marguerite St. Just.” –––     CH IV,  THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL.

There’s a lot to unpack in this quote, but the main idea (and what the reader gathers) is that 1.) Marguerite denounced the Marquis de St. Cyr and sent him and his family to their deaths and 2.) It’s become somewhat of the hottest “scandal” for lack of a better term, and many — in particular, the Comtesse de Tournay — don’t take the rumors very lightly. Although Marguerite has become well respected and the pivot of Social London, there is an air of disdain that comes with her name, which is only reinforced when she meets the Comtesse face to face, who immediately rebuffs her and refuses Marguerite to greet her childhood best friend, Suzanne.

“Hoity-toity, citizeness,” she said gaily, “what fly stings you, pray?” “We are in England now, Madame,” rejoined the Comtesse, coldly, “and I am at liberty to forbid my daughter to touch your hand in friendship.” –––     CH V,  MARGUERITE.

Wherever Marguerite goes, her reputation precedes her — given the cold shoulder by most of the people around her, including her own husband, for this wicked deed she has committed. Despite tensions being high throughout revolutionary France at the time because of the ongoing Reign of Terror, Marguerite’s involvement in the St. Cyrs’ execution is treated as being particularly wicked and insidious by people like the Comtesse. So, why did Marguerite denounce St. Cyr? what could he have possibly done that caused her to denounce him and send him to his death? Well, her motives for St. Cyr's denunciation are much more personal than that of many others in a time such as the Reign of Terror.

The reason Marguerite had denounced St. Cyr — which is hinted at in an earlier chapter but not elaborated on until later — is because he had her brother, Armand, beaten “within an inch of his life.” For what reason? For falling in love with St. Cyr’s daughter, Angèle, which he had deemed unacceptable given the St. Just’s middle class background. While such incidents, as Orczy puts it, “was of almost daily occurrence in France,” Marguerite was horrified and appalled by Armand’s beating by St. Cyr’s men, and swears that she will have her vengeance on the Marquis. This motive behind Marguerite’s actions is something that also tends to get lost in adaptation; in the 1934 film, it is one of St. Cyr’s sons who wants to marry Marguerite instead of Armand being in love with Angèle, to which the Marquis has her imprisoned in St. Lazare in retaliation. In the 1982 film, her motive remains the same, only she never acts on it and is resolved of her guilt; instead it’s Chauvelin who puts her name on the arrest warrant out of spite. In the 1999 miniseries, St. Cyr is responsible for the death of her parents, while the musical’s reasoning is that Marguerite had been blackmailed and slutshamed by Chauvelin in order for him to get the note denouncing St. Cyr.

While adaptations have their reason for adjusting Marguerite’s motive in St. Cyr’s denunciation (or completely absolving her of the responsibility), what many of these adaptations fail to realize is that, by changing her motivation in the St. Cyr incident, they actually tend to 1.) undermine the relationship between Marguerite and Armand and 2.) entirely miss the mark on a crucial aspect of Marguerite’s character, which is how she fiercely loves — particularly those close to her.

“I was tricked into doing this thing, by men who knew how to play upon my love for an only brother, and my desire for revenge. Was it unnatural?” (...) “Listen to the tale, Sir Percy,” she said, and her voice now was low, sweet, infinitely tender. “Armand was all in all to me! We had no parents, and brought one another up. He was my little father, and I, his tiny mother; we loved one another so. Then one day—do you mind me, Sir Percy? the Marquis de St. Cyr had my brother Armand thrashed—thrashed by his lacqueys—that brother whom I loved better than all the world! And his offence? That he, a plebeian, had dared to love the daughter of the aristocrat; for that he was waylaid and thrashed . . . thrashed like a dog within an inch of his life! Oh, how I suffered! his humiliation had eaten into my very soul! When the opportunity occurred, and I was able to take my revenge, I took it. But I only thought to bring that proud marquis to trouble and humiliation. He plotted with Austria against his own country. Chance gave me knowledge of this; I spoke of it, but I did not know—how could I guess?—they trapped and duped me. When I realised what I had done, it was too late.” –––     CH XVI,  RICHMOND.

The bond between Marguerite and Armand is incredibly close, a direct result of their parents dying when they were still children. While their birth order tends to be swapped in later sequels, this fact remains the same throughout. Armand is Marguerite’s only family, who raised her and was her guardian until she married Percy. They have one of, if not the closest, bond in the novel, which brings up the second aspect; how Marguerite loves people.

To say that Marguerite loves very intensely would just be touching the surface. When it comes to the people she loves, she would do anything for them, including risking/endangering her life. While she never vocalizes it in the novel much, this aspect is seen in almost every important relationship she has, especially with Armand, though they’ve grown somewhat distant when the events of the novel begin. So for Marguerite to discover that Armand, whom she loves more than anything else, was beaten almost to death for what she believes is an unjustified reason, her anger and subsequent want for revenge against St. Cyr is justified. While it could be argued that her reasoning for executing St. Cyr was selfish, the intent behind it was not selfish in the slightest, coming from a place of love and care for her family. Given how Marguerite’s first mention in the novel is explicitly about her involvement in St. Cyr’s execution, we know that Marguerite eventually triumphed in getting her revenge.

The St. Cyr incident is not a simple black and white issue, however, and we soon learn that Marguerite had no intention of sending the Marquis to his death. In fact, when she discovered that he and his family were to be executed, her reaction contradicts what we have been told about Marguerite thus far: she was horrified.

Marguerite, impulsive, thoughtless, not calculating the purport of her words, still smarting under the terrible insult her brother had suffered at the Marquis’ hands, happened to hear—amongst her own coterie—that the St. Cyrs were in treasonable correspondence with Austria, hoping to obtain the Emperor’s support to quell the growing revolution in their own country In those days one denunciation was sufficient: Marguerite’s few thoughtless words anent the Marquis de St. Cyr bore fruit within twenty-four hours. He was arrested. His papers were searched: letters from the Austrian Emperor, promising to send troops against the Paris populace, were found in his desk. He was arraigned for treason against the nation, and sent to the guillotine, whilst his family, his wife and his sons, shared this awful fate. Marguerite, horrified at the terrible consequences of her own thoughtlessness, was powerless to save the Marquis: her own coterie, the leaders of the revolutionary movement, all proclaimed her as a heroine: and when she married Sir Percy Blakeney, she did not perhaps altogether realise how severely he would look upon the sin, which she had so inadvertently committed, and which still lay heavily upon her soul. –––     CH XVI,  RICHMOND.

Orczy makes it a point to emphasize that Marguerite’s intention was not to send St. Cyr to his death, but instead to humiliate him, which she saw as “just” revenge for nearly killing Armand. Still, with Marguerite swearing vengeance on St. Cyr, the fact that she is horrified that he is to be executed — and even goes as far as attempting to stop the execution from happening — is extremely telling about her moral judgement, beliefs, and her morality overall.

When it comes to the morality regarding Marguerite’s involvement in St. Cyr’s arrest and execution, there are two things to keep in mind:

Marguerite’s intentions weren’t good, but they weren’t malicious either.

Marguerite's impulsiveness, brashness, and naïvety (to a point) play a major role in her decision to denounce St. Cyr.

While Marguerite’s life prior to marrying Percy is never explored in detail, the fact that a staunch Republican like her, who has actively supported the revolution, would be horrified by St. Cyr’s death brings up a question: why? If Marguerite wanted revenge against St. Cyr so badly, why wouldn’t she be happy that he would be sent to the guillotine? Well, that’s the thing: the death of St. Cyr and her direct involvement in it goes against everything Marguerite stands for morally.

While the alternative to execution (humiliating him and soiling his reputation) isn’t ideal, Marguerite did not denounce St. Cyr with the intention to send him to his death. In fact, she had no intention of sharing his involvement with Austria with anyone really, let alone revolutionary officials, with it being revealed that Marguerite was tricked into denouncing St. Cyr by using her love for Armand and her desire for revenge against her. While this does indicate that Marguerite is “morally” innocent when it comes to St. Cyr’s death, I don’t believe that’s the case. Despite ultimately being manipulated into sharing St. Cyr’s involvement with Austria, it was still Marguerite’s choice to denounce him at the end of the day, giving her an active part in St. Cyr’s denouncement and eventual execution. If this aspect of the St. Cyr incident were to be ditched — which is what most adaptations tend to opt to — it downplays and devalues a large majority of Marguerite’s motivation and actions in the latter half of the novel, where she is desperately trying to “atone” for her sin.

Then there is Marguerite’s impulsive nature, which ultimately got her into this situation to begin with. I think it’s important to note that although Marguerite is clever and sophisticated, she is incredibly impulsive, brash, and to a point, naïve, which all lead back to her upbringing; she was sheltered in a convent for a majority of her formative years, and when she left the convent, she was under the guardianship of Armand. She hasn’t had enough opportunities to really confront more difficult situations, let alone an entire revolution in the years leading up to its reign of terror. As a result, Marguerite tends to act before she can really consider the consequences of her actions, something which comes to haunt her later on.

Along with this, Marguerite is definitely someone who cracks when put under enough pressure, i.e the opera box chapter, which will be more thoroughly dived into later on. Given what the denunciation of St. Cyr meant for the revolution, for her, and for the people pressuring her into telling them about St. Cyr’s correspondence with Austria, it’s likely to believe that she simply didn’t have the time to contemplate the decision thoroughly enough. For her, the denunciation meant that St. Cyr would finally see “justice” (he would be humiliated) for Armand’s beating, and that her desire for revenge would be satisfied. While outside forces did play a major role in her decision, Marguerite had denounced St. Cyr in the heat of the moment and did not have the time to properly weigh the morality of her decision, and did not take the consequences into consideration. She saw the opportunity to seek revenge and she seized it. Marguerite hates St. Cyr, that is true, but she would never wish death upon him, let alone the rest of his family, who were completely innocent in this whole affair.

Yet she had done these things (...) just as two years ago the Marquis de St. Cyr had perished through a thoughtless word of hers; but in that case she was morally innocent—she had meant no serious harm—fate merely had stepped in. –––     CH XVI,  RICHMOND.

Marguerite's fatalism, which will come up again when Marguerite is blackmailed by Chauvelin, used to show how Marguerite rationalizes her part in St. Cyr’s death; the situation was out of control, she didn’t know any better. It’s important to note that Marguerite’s fatalism is only used when she wishes to absolve herself of the responsibility, to presumably safeguard her feelings and try to move on. Despite this, Marguerite still feels an extreme amount of guilt, one which haunts her enough that she confesses to Percy brashly and without telling him any of the extraneous circumstances, and which motivates her later on to try and repair her marriage and eventually save Percy.

The St. Cyr incident is a turning point for Marguerite, as she realizes that the revolution, in her eyes, has gone too far. With her word being used to arrest and send St. Cyr to his death, she realizes that her words hold more weight than she had previously thought, and that they can be used against her if they would fulfill an agenda (which, in this case, was the revolution). If St. Cyr had died by her word, then just how far would they go in the name of the revolution? How many more people would die by her hand? Would she be safe from meeting a similar fate at the guillotine? It’s questions like these that weight heavily on her, and by the time that the events of the novel begin, she is still incredibly guilt ridden due to this incident with St. Cyr, which is why she is against aiding Chauvelin in his mission to uncover the Pimpernel’s identity until she’s blackmailed — she doesn’t want to be responsible for another death, despite knowing what is at stake.

It’s her direct involvement in St. Cyr’s death that causes her to question the morality of the revolution and ultimately what it stands for. While she never gives up her ardent Republican beliefs, Marguerite is disgusted by the pointless bloodshed in order to keep the revolution alive. Her role in St. Cyr’s death is one of the key motivators for her actions in the novel, and is always weighing heavily on her conscience despite her efforts to “atone” for her sin. There’s also a feeling of betrayal that Marguerite has to come to terms with; she was tricked into denouncing St. Cyr by people she once considered her closest confidantes, who played on her love for her brother and her desire for revenge in order to do so. As a result, Marguerite has become wary of people’s intentions and motives, and in a way, she’s almost paranoid that a betrayal such as this could happen again. It’s sort of Marguerite’s “Pandora’s Box” or “Temptation of Eve” moment, where she learns that her actions will have dire consequences if not considered carefully.

While the story still works if you were to rid Marguerite of her guilt and involvement (see the ’82 film), it feels pointless and only waters down the weight of her actions in the latter half of the story when she goes to rescue Percy. Though I want to believe that adaptations have good reason to mess with this aspect of Marguerite’s storyline, it’s really just another aspect that shows the disconnect and evolution of the story as the years passed on, going from Marguerite’s story to Percy’s, with her role in the narrative becoming smaller and smaller as the story continues to be adapted for a modern audience.

1. Orczy, Baroness. The Scarlet Pimpernel. Signet Books; New American Library, 1982. 2. Luini, Bernardino. Salome with the Head of John the Baptist. Between 1515 - 1525. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

[stranded-labyrinth]

Angsttttt

Just read a fic where will found Hannibal in Florence and was jealous AF about Antony diamond. But they worked it out and shit.

Let me raise you, Will ‘already horrible self worth/esteem issues’ Graham, leaving the second he sees Hannibal flirting with a guy who looks just like him, minus the myriad of ugly scars. And homie has a badddd self destructive habit already. So he heads to the closest bar with the intention to get black out drunk and find someone to take his mind off Hannibal. But then ends up running out of the bar because he’s gotten into a fist fight and beaten the guy to a pulp. (Projecting much will?)

But know he’s thinking, why not just kill that bitch, Hannibal was with? And not with his fists with a gun, the man doesn’t deserve any form of intimacy.

So as one does he finds the guys address and sneaks in, only to find Hannibal THERE. And in a fit of absolute hatred shoots Antony dead in the head. No guilt, Before turning on Hannibal. Who’s looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, before noticing it’s Will. And he smiles and gos to talk before Will interrupts him.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it? I’ll never be enough for you, you have your fun with me then throw me out, when I’ve grown boring”

before taking the gun off Hannibal. And ATTEMPTING to shoot himself, but Hannibal smacks the gun off course. So he ends up shooting himself in the arm (like where chiyoh shot him) and passes out from blood loss.

Then the rest of the fic would be Hannibal trying to fix the damage he’s done

i'll be so honest, there's been about 50 different flavors of this happening in my mind at any given time

Hannibal being an absolute shit with how he's gone about he and Will's relationship can spring so many different versions of this, to the point where i've desperately wanted to write something with it but i've struggled with knowing exactly how to go about it, because there's just so many ways to do it that i can't settle for one

personally, i don't tend to go the route of Will trying to kill himself if only because he's relatively used to stewing in depression, but teetering on the edge is not to say that something couldn't push him over the edge. the way i always imagine it is him, as usual, resigning himself to this life. he's drained of the joy of it, left with bitterness and resentment and aching, and yet this time around he also just feels so painfully empty. there's a hollow void that isn't going to be filled, Hannibal's made that abundantly clear through his lack of action, so why bother hoping? once again, just another person Will isn't good enough for. he exists to understand Hannibal and that's it, nothing further. no other meaning.

and, of course, Hannibal doesn't enjoy his Will without his passion, so he'd know something's amiss pretty quickly. but he's not going to ask so directly, he's going to poke and prod and guide, but Will's too tired and convinced his little world with Hannibal will never get better than what it is and he's too tired and he wants to go home but doesn't even know where home is anymore, because apparently it's not with him.

Will's feeling like a discarded toy, tossed aside when it became old hat only to be picked up when the owner gets curious.

he's not engaging in their little philosophical back and forths. he's not killing. he comes to bed, if only to lay curled up on his side, facing away from Hannibal, laying still until his grief for something he never had becomes a physical thing in the room and Hannibal has to reach out to him just to be able to breathe again.

of course, Will would break eventually, but until then he's just going day to day, mind on the bleak past and even bleaker future until it makes for a bleak present, and Hannibal's watching the life leave his eyes while being completely ignorant to it being his fault.

sometimes i think he'd stay and everything would break down that way, sometimes i think he'd leave (or try to) and Hannibal would go looking for him, because after all this time, Hannibal refuses to be without him. not again.

but like i said, all the intricacies of it could be so different that it's difficult to actually jot down.

[navree]

Hi!! Do you have any good non fiction book recs on Augustus?

Hey, yes I do!

Anthony Everitt's Augustus is one I highly recommend, all of his biographies are really good and this one is the one I revisit most often. I'm also partial to Augustus: First Emperor of Rome by Adrian Goldsworthy, and also a good chunk of his other works on Ancient Rome (Caesar, Life of a Colossus and Antony and Cleopatra are works of his that I also enjoy as supplementary reading). If you can find an English translation, which I think is available, then The Age of Augustus by Werner Eck is also pretty good. And while I personally haven't read it yet, Augustus by Patricia Southern is on my list and I've heard good things about it.

One thing I highly, highly encourage is to read the ancient sources. A lot of them are available for free online, since they're translations of very old works, and they're the basis for a lot of the information in modern biographies anyway. From those I'd really recommend Life of Augustus by Nicolaus of Damascus and The Life of Augustus from Suetonius's The Lives of the Twelve Caesars (ideally read all the sections of those because they're all interesting, but also be warned that Suetonius has a habit of sometimes just making shit up so if something sounds blatantly out of character he was probably just lying). The Reign of Augustus is a book that's an amalgamation of all of Cassius Dio's writings regarding Augustus, though unlike Nicolaus, who was a contemporary of Augustus (he and Augustus were both good friends with Herod the Great, and Nicolaus was apparently a tutor for Antony and Cleopatra's children, who were educated alongside and living with Augustus's daughter Julia) or Suetonius who was born at the tail end of the Julio Claudian dynasty's reign, Cassius Dio was writing 200 years after the fact and thus isn't as reliable as those primary sources. Also, if you wanna read anything that the man had to say about himself, this is a collection of all we've been able to translate of the Res Gestae Divi Augusti.

This also isn't a book about Augustus specifically, moreso about the Roman concept of the biography and literary works in general, but The Lost Memoirs of Augustus is not only a good read, but actually has translations of the sections of the man's memoirs that we've been able to recover (no I'm not still bitter about the fact that the majority of them are forever lost, why would that bother me, I definitely don't think about it at least once a month).

Hope this helps!

[e-pistulae]

in today's letter(s): cicero replies to a Lot of letters! dolabella's speech against antony was so good that cicero likes him again! something has happened to cleopatra, maybe! cicero tells atticus about the arrogance of authors! and a story about how brutus criticised his style! cicero's nephew is apparently antony's right hand manlet! maybe the assassins should have killed antony! cicero eats dessert! and octavius lurks ominously in the background!

about e-pistulae | previous letters | subscribe to emails from cicero?

[melanieph321]

Another day of Lucas Paqueta having to deal with Lichantony drama 😭🤣

Enjoy the fic it's called "Pick Up"

Lichantony - Pick Up

Summary - Lisandro and Antony have developed the habit of calling one another during their time away from each other during the international break. What has happened the day Antony suddenly goes AWOL?

Hope you enjoy! If not, don't tell me.

Lisandro lay in the bed in his hotelroom, phone pressed to his ear. Antony was usually the one to call in the evening, but since he had failed to Lisandro was forced to do so himself. Perhaps he was spoiled, he thought, an endless beep buzzing in his ear. Yes, that was it. Antony had spoiled him by always calling first, this way Lisandro never had to. And the day he finally did he was miserable, considering Antony hadn't bothered to pick up his phone.

"Antony where are you?" He sighed.

The beep ended, as the call went to voice mail. Lisandro dialed the number again and he would do so until Antony cared to pick up.

"Hello..."

"Finally!" He exclaimed as the beep was cut off by a tired voice. "Antony? It's me. Did I wake you?" Lisandro looked to the clock on his nightstand. Was the time difference that severe in Morocco compared to Argentina?

"Licha?"

Lisandro frowned as it was not the voice of Antony that answered. "Lucas? Where is is Antony?"

"I dunno?" Lucas muttered. He and Antony were roommates during the international break. Something Lisandro wasn't so fond of.

"Isn't...Isn't Antony in the room with you?" He asked, slightly concerned.

"He's not in his bed." Lucas said.

"No? Where is he then?"

"Wait, let me check Raphiña's room."

"Raphiña?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec."

Lisandro didn't notice his fist clenching as he was taken on a journey. Lucas Paqueta scratched the microphone as he moved.

Why wasn't Antony in his room, sleeping? Lisandro asked himself. He had obviously woken up Paqueta. The thought of Antony sleeping in another guy's room. No. Lisandro shook the thought away, unclenching his balled up fist. A knock was heard in the other end of the line followed by loud music and laughter.

"I'm looking for Tony..." Paqueta said as Lisandro overhead him talking to someone. "There is a call for him..."

There was a pause. To Lisandro, a miserable silent pause. Then...

"Hello?" Antony's voice sparked in Lisandro's ear, who exhaled in relief.

"It's me." He said.

"Licha?"

"Did I call in a bad time?"

"Um..." There was a sound of a door closing, excluding all the background noice. "No, not really." Antony said. "Did you want something?"

"Did I want something?" Lisandro eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes?" Antony said,expectantly. "You called me didn't you?"

"But..." Lisandro spoke quietly. "We always call?"

"Oh."

He forgot, Lisandro thought, pressing his head against his pillow.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"It's okay." Lisandro said. "I guess I got a little worried when you didn't answer. Lucas had to...yeah."

"I'm sorry about that." Antony chuckled. Fred and I were playing video games in Rapha's room and so I forgot my phone in mine."

"Rapha." Lisandro repeated, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice. "Did you have fun playing video games with...Rapha?"

"Yes. Fred and I..." Antony made sure to punctuate. "...had a really good time actually."

Lisandro rolled his eyes.

"I really needed it after the game. The whole team did."

"Oh, yeah, I saw the replay." Lisandro said, adjusted himself in his bed. "Sorry about your loss."

"Thanks Licha. But it's not like anyone died." Antony chuckled.

"Sorry." He chuckled. "It's just that...Well, Casemiro tells me that the whole team has been struggling since the...you know." He hesitated. The world cup had become a very sensative topic between Lisandro and Antony, considering Brazil did terrible whilst Argentina...you know.

"It's been tough." Antony sighed. Lisandro felt a sudden urge to be near him, to wrap his arms around him and give him a hug. "With the sacking of our coach and players like Neymar injured, the whole team has been quite lost I must admit."

"I get it." Lisandro nodded, however paused as Antony snorted in his ear.

"I doubt that." He said.

"Doubt what?" Lisandro frowned.

"I dunno?" Antony shrugged, however Lisandro couldn't see. "I doubt that you know how I feel right now."

Lisandro raised a brow. "Really and why is that?"

"Forget it." Antony muttered, perhaps not wanting to argue. Lisandro however was curious on what he had to say.

"I dunno Licha, forget I said anything. Congratulations on your win though, I heard Messi scored an incredible free kick."

He was right, Lisandro thought, it was best not to argue, not after he had faught to get a hold of Antony, whom he really missed.

"Yeah, it was incredible." He said. "You should have seen it Tony. I mean the guy is like a magician with the ball."

"I mean he's not all that, but alright." Antony chuckled.

Lisandro frowned. "What did you say?"

"Come on Licha, a magician. That's a bit far fetched, don't you think?"

Lisandro brought himself to sit. "No, I don't actually. Messi is undoubtedly the best player to have ever played the game."

"Oh yeah, how about Ronaldo?"

"Which Ronaldo?"

"Cristiano, who I may add, scored an international free kick himself."

"Yeah, yeah." Lisandro said dismissively. "Go cry about it with your other teammates."

Silence followed.

Lisandro realized his mistake and sighed. "Tony I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"I saw that video of you." Antony said, his voice restrained.

"What video?" Lisandro frowned.

"That video of you and Messi. The one where you're practically drooling all over him like the fan boy that you are."

Lisandro couldn't help but to chuckle at his words. "Look, whatever video you saw, I doubt it included me drooling over a man."

"Why is that so strange?"

Lisandro was taken back by how defensive Antony sounded.

"It's not strange." He said, realizing how he might have sounded. "It's just that..."

"You drool over me all the time." Antony said, again, catching Lisandro off guard.

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do." He chuckled.

"Then why did you call it strange?" Antony asked, this time sounding less defensive and more anxious.

"Because..." Lisandro knew he had to be precise with his words. "...It is strange that you'd think I'd drool over another man that isn't you. For me that's impossible."

There was a pause. An anxious pause for Lisandro who held the phone pressed to his ear.

"I agree." Antony finally said.

Lisandro sighed in relief as he threw himself to lay in his back. His gaze wandered to the ceiling.  "Tell me about your day Antony." He was smiling from ear to ear.

"I thought I did? My day was shit, how was yours?"

"Less shit." Lisandro laughed. They would go on talking for another hour. By that time Antony would have gon back to his room and continued their conversation from the confront of his on bed. Now and then they'd be interrupted by Paqueta throwing pillows, asking, no begging, that the two of them let him sleep.

[jeannereames]

do you think alexander would have fallen for Cleopatra’s charms if they have been born in the same period? Would he have been a Caesar or Marc Anthony?

I’ve always thought of Cleopatra VII as a true successor of Alexander, even though she wasn’t an Argead. She had the intelligence and wiliness. She wasn’t (it seems) a great beauty, but when you’re pharaoh of Egypt with that much money and status, it didn’t matter.

Her real concern was the preservation of Ptolemaic rule in Egypt. To achieve that, in her day, she needed a convenient Roman general in her hip pocket, so to speak. First, that was Julius Caesar. Later, it was Marc Antony. She grew up with cut-throat palace intrigue, so she was a pragmatist. As was Alexander. And Caesar. Marc Antony was a doofus, really. But I resist turning her liaisons into Romance stories. She may have come to love/care for Caesar. Perhaps Antony, but I’m dubious. Hormones are a weird thing, but I just don’t see her as falling for anybody unless it aligned with her end goals (Egyptian freedom).

I realize I’m focusing on her, not him, but I can’t see her trying to seduce him unless he was of value to her. And the same for him. He’d have married her if necessary, otherwise, no. So, much would depend on the political set-up.

It’s hard to translate her era to his, and vice-versa. Would he have been a Roman general? If so, then yes, he might have been worth her time. Likewise, if he’d been a Roman general, she would be of interest to him for resources and funding in the civil wars that killed the Republic.

Similarly, if he’d offered a strong alliance to block Roman expansion East, she might have considered that. And again, her treasury might have been of interest to him.

As noted, the problem remains with the translation of him into her time (or her into his). I’m not sure attraction would have mattered. They were both shrewd politicians. They’d have allied if they’d thought it would benefit them, but been bitter enemies if it wouldn’t.

(Sorry it’s not a more Romantic answer. I do think he’d respect her, if he’d ever met her.)

[natequarter]

Oh ye blasphemers muste this be the firste entrye into your Courts and companye, to shake of the feare of God. So despitefullye to breake hys hollye precept and commaundemente? so contumelyouslye to abuse hys holye name, greate before all creatures, hygh before the aungels, and terryble to the deuils. Learne some other couretynge before thys Lord in his dreadful maiesty come downe amonges you. You can talke reuerentlye of the kynges Maiestye, hys hyghnes, hys hanorable counsayle, my Lordes grace, my Lorde Bishops grace and my ladyes grace, & is ther nothinge left for the Lord of al Lords, the kynge of all kynges, but Gods bloude, Gods woūds, Gods passiō, blasphemyng outragiously both God the father & his son Christ (who for to saue vs, shed his blud, suffered these woundes and bitter passion) Is neyther God, who created thee? nor Iesus Christ, who redemed thee, of no more reputacion? Is this right courtyng? to set so light by thy creacion? thy redempcion, thy saluacion? Then cursed be courtyng, wo worthe the wycked companye.

Anthony Gilby, A commentarye vpon the prophet Mycha. Wrytten by Antony Gilby. Anno Domi. M.D.Li

[sirianasims]

When we got back home that night, Katherine was still sad.

I wished Freya wasn’t with my parents for the weekend. I badly needed Katherine to be distracted by something so I could have a drink. And I was still angry with her.

I thought she was stupid for going back to the house. I told her so.

The fight was inevitable.

I told her that I’d been embarrassed when she left me alone at the wedding to go visit her ex. I didn’t tell her that part of me had both feared and hoped she’d get back with him.

She said she just wanted to see the house again, she didn’t know Antony would be outside. She would have preferred that he hadn’t been there so she didn’t have to meet little Miss Perfect.

“So now you’re upset that he finally moved on, despite the fact that he tried to mess with you for months during the divorce and you’ve been with me the whole time?”

“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, Eric. I’m perfectly capable of hating his guts and mourning something I lost at the same time.”

“So what are you going to do about it, Katherine? Go win him back?”

“Eric, you’re not listening to me, I just told you how much I hate him!”

“It just makes me sad being surrounded by happy couples when you and I are obviously not doing great! Is that really so strange?”

I couldn’t stop myself. I was angry, bitter and uncomfortably sober.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you got yourself knocked up by a student.”

The slap wasn’t hard but it took me by surprise.

Katherine seemed just as surprised at what she’d done. I grabbed her wrist and pinned her down.

“Never hit me again”, I growled.

She just glared at me, defiantly.

We looked at each other, both breathing heavily. For the first time in over a year, we felt the same way at the same time – even if the feeling was rage.

Katherine pulled me down and kissed me, hard. I felt how her anger and frustration finally mirrored my own.

They say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

Turns out that rage can feel remarkably close to passion.

Afterwards, we fell asleep in each other’s arms for the first time since Freya was born.

It was the beginning of the end.

beginning / previous / next

[aureatchi]

REV GO CRAZY i wanna hear abt ur stories plot hehe <33 (btw UGH UR SO LUCKY U HAVE WORLD LIT AS A CLASS LIKE HELLOOOOO !??!?!??!)

LMAO sorry this is so late, tht assignment drained me sm tht as soon as i was done, i never wanted to speak of it again (¬_¬)ﾉ but we got 100 on it so i feel a bit less bitter now…

tw mention suicide, noone acc does it, it was js framed to cover up a murder

the story centers around a group of uni students (all friends) who travelled to egypt during their summer break !! it opens up w/ a shakespeare quote from antony and cleopatra (i’ll come back to this later; yes ofc i had to add shakespeare) & the beginning line is one of the main character’s journal entries, opening up to a tragedy tht js took place…one of the friends was found dead in his tent (they’re in the desert camping.) he was first found by his bsf who wanted to watch the sunrise w/ him tht morning along w/ two other things: a suicide note & a small knife. before finding the knife, the friends first thought he was bitten by a poisonous snake bcz it appeared there were snakebites on his neck, but he acc js “stabbed himself there twice”. so the police officer there declares he died by self-infliction, but immediately after, her walki-talki awakes, saying tht one of cleopatra the great’s artifacts was stolen from a museum. coincidentally, it was only ~an hour before the victim’s supposed death, & the students had visited tht museum earlier tht day too. so now obv, everyone believes there had to b something more.

basically it’s js a parallel between cleopatra & the murder LOL bcz what’s reverie w/out historical detail :’) so a few ex. cleopatra made a poisonous snake asp bite her & tht’s how the victim died (was murdered), and cleopatra was known to b very intelligent, cunning, and deceptive. spoiler alert the murderer is the main character writing the journal entry in the beginning, & i made it in a way where it was “unreliable narrator” LOL. so she represents cleopatra, murdered her friend bcz he caught her stealing the artifact, & she wanted the artifact bcz it supposedly had the coordinates to where she was buried & main character wanted to make tht discovery herself lol. the story ends in a very bsd azure messenger way LMAOO LIKE ACC, the victim’s bsf shoots her in grief & anger after her explanation and admitting, there’s a final shakespeare quote to tie it off, & yeah…

it’s super messy…LOL i promise i write sm better than this but yeah tht’s the summary !!