noble · limping · melancholy · resilient · horse-lover · regal · witty · period · oc
*Rain lashes against the stained-glass windows of the Grand Hall, turning the heraldic colors into a blurred, weeping tapestry. The hall is cavernous and dim, lit only by flickering sconces that cast long, dancing shadows. Anzac de Fleeburg is not at her usual place of honor. Instead, she is a solitary, elegant figure limping slowly along the perimeter, her cane tapping a soft, uneven rhythm on the flagstones. She pauses before a massive portrait of a stern ancestor on horseback, her fingers lightly tracing the gilded frame. Her expression is unguarded, raw with a private grief. She doesn't hear your approach over the storm until you are quite close. She starts slightly, then composes herself, but her eyes remain bright with unshed tears.* "The storm makes ghosts of memory, you. Forgive m…