| Alissaundra Grace Kinsington | |
|---|---|
 Daughter of William Reynsford Kinsington and Catherine Hartford Kinsington | |
|
Title |
Lady of Somerset |
|
House |
House of Kinsington |
|
Seat |
Kinsington Keep, Somerset |
|
Allegiance |
Duchy of Gavenstead |
|
Family |
William Reynsford Kinsington |
|
Status |
Alive; born September 17th,-19 L.C. Lotharian Calendar |
Since birth, Alissaundra had proven the very epitome of her station as the baby of House Kinsington. As a child she was often doted upon by her parents, William and Catherine, as well as by her eldest brother, William II. Her other brother, Aidan, had taken the role of the perpetual antagonist. While Will adored her, Aidan always seemed to find a way to cause her grief or tease her relentlessly. Even so, Alissa adored them both and looked up to the three men in her life for nearly every comfort in her early years.
Though her brothers and father held so much of her affections as a child, there was one figure that eclipsed them all...her mother. A lady of grace and propriety, whose kindness was matched in her lifetime only by her exquisite beauty. The day her mother taken from her haunts her dreams to this day. Alissaundra was six years old, making Aidan 11 and Will 16. Her memories are scattered, but they linger still.
As the Earl of Somerset was faced with the challenges of running his household without his wife at his side, he became more a stranger to Alissa than ever before. Perhaps she reminded him too oft of the love he’d lost to the grips of the sweating sickness. In the years to follow Aidan and Alissaundra grew closer, their loving brand of taunting now focused upon a newly stoic and fiercely focused Will. And so they would live as an incomplete family, loyal to one another to the point of obsession as they each healed their wounds in their own way.
As time moved on Alissaundra found it increasingly difficult to find her place in the world. Will was fast becoming the pride of Lordaeron, with Aidan close behind him save for the people's contempt for his temper. Alissaundra was left to endure her mediocrity apart from the greatness of her siblings. With each passing day she finds herself a bit more, despite the lack of a mother to guide her hand.
The nineteen summers of Alissaundra Kinsington’s life have found her full of beauty and wonder, awaiting her fate with open arms...and open eyes. She now spends her days in study of the healing arts, taught the ways of The Light by a wise and wonderful lady who has since passed into night.
Lament of an Angel[]
Even if her spirit had been gripped with restless anticipation of late, it did little to quench her thirst for knowledge. She was much more than just the pretty face her mother had bestowed upon her. Hers was a political mind with a welling curiosity and wonderment for days gone by. So it was that clutched betwixt delicate fingers rested a leather-bound book with handwritten pages worn through with age in several places. From her perch upon what had become a very familiar bench, moonlight danced within silken tresses to send honeyed highlights glistening against the porcelain cheeks of Kinsington’s angel. So much had been raging through her mind these long weeks. For all of her efforts to take her mind off of her fate, she was but fooling herself to think she was processing any of the knowledge the weathered pages offered.
With a soft sigh's escape through petal tiers the book was set aside. Lithe limbs pushing her to stand as delicate arms were folded at her chest. She paced back and forth, so much so that she nearly wore a groove into the floor of the ornate and lavish accommodations the Duke had afforded her. Flames crackled within the hearth in the wake of its revival, flickering light drawing attention to the pale blue of her eyes. The silence, though normally welcome, had left her quite uneasy and it was only when she heard the stir of voices and the lulling echoes throughout the castle walls that she would rouse from her musings to peer out of her window and down to the courtyard below.
She had been straining her gaze for several lingering moments, attempting to decipher the cause of the uproar below. It was the Duke and his retinue…and he had ventured the long journey down the road that would seal her fate. So engrossed by it was she, that when the rapping upon her door echoed throughout her chambers it nearly startled her half to death. She jumped at the sound, hand covering her heart as she spun around to face the chamber doors. Heavy lids and dark lashes closed over her gaze a moment as she attempted to regain her composure. With a deep breath drawn in and subsequently exhaled, footfalls began to close the gap between herself and the large wooden partition that separated them.
When the doors were opened and her eyes lifted the long length of the figure in search of its own, a flush of fever immediately claimed otherwise pallor and perfected cheeks. There before her stood her brother, William. It was no secret that thoughts of him were perpetually on her mind of late, and as she began to bear witness to the horrific scene that was his battered and bloodied exterior, there was a moment she was certain the dim light of the fire's glow was playing tricks on her. She sucked in a heated breath, hand this time lifting to cover her mouth which had fallen agape somewhere in the prior passing moments. Her gaze was a beautiful contradiction...an intoxicating combination of innocence and wisdom that had now been replaced by confusion and fear. “Will…what happened?”