Estelle Desrosiers
Authored by scott (he/him)
Lucenna ✥ Currently Offline, last seen Sep 05, 2017, 03:45 PM
Lady of Valhaven
The Wild Maybird
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Estelle is a renowned poet whose work often slanders past lovers. Prone to mood swings, drinking too much, and saying the wrong thing, Estelle is widely considered an emotional wreck.
Estelle Aster Desrosiers (Star Star Desrosiers)
Address As
My Lady

Estelle is a trans woman, and officially came out at the age of ten.
26 years
October 27
Marital Status
To her great distress, unmarried, unengaged, uncourted, UNLOVED!!!
Estelle is widely known as an emotional mess whose actions and behavior cannot be controlled: she attempted twice to elope, has public breakdowns, and slanders others freely. She’s considered passionate and one of the best living poets.
Estelle drinks too much, she's a gossip who can't be trusted, her emotional outbursts are a consequence of suffering from Hearteater Disease, she's half mad
Passionate, Mercurial, Erratic, Spiteful, Superiority Complex/Low Self-Esteem, Graceful
Poetry, insults, painting, falling in love in two seconds
Mental Weaknesses
Gender dysphoria (doubles as a physical weakness), keeping herself together, letting her heart go unbroken for five minutes, patience
Find true love. Get married.
In Public
In public, Estelle is boisterous, charming, and full of social energy. Whether people are drawn to her because of her grace and natural allure or because of her tendency to cause a scene is up for debate.
In Private
Estelle isn’t so different in private. She is still passionate and brims with a burning energy, but she is perhaps a little more subdued. When she’s alone, she falls to melancholy, as it’s easy to consider her faults, mistakes, and consider her damages. Around those she trusts, she’s playful and sometimes takes too many liberties with what she feels she’s allowed to say.
More often than not, Estelle finds a way to tarnish her family's reputation. She feels a great amount of guilt about this, but can't seem to stop herself. She loves her family, feels terrible about how her actions impacted Rozenn's life, and endeavors to protect the rest of her siblings from herself.
Monogamous while in a relationship, but her relationships are often short lived, and she flits from romance to romance.
Estelle believes in The Faith; she is appropriately devout, not a fanatic nor someone to dismiss the gods. She does not advocate the binary, though, considering her own relationship to her gender and because of her sibling Lumiere Desrosiers.
Height, charming smile.
Tall, thin, willowy.
Physical Strengths
Can drink a lot of alcohol and survive
Physical Weaknesses
Susceptible to Hearteater Sickness, not physically strong, gender dysphoria (doubles as a mental weakness)
George, a small dragon.
October 27, 447

458 One month after coming out.
"Come along, Estelle."

She pauses mid brush stroke. The brush stays sedentary for so long that a small red bulb of water color grows along its hairs, then, plump, drips down the canvas, something that would frustrate her if she were looking at it. But she isn't looking at the canvas; her eyes are on the doorway, where one of her cousins is standing, waiting for her. Come along, Estelle.

Her eyes feel hot and her throat does, too. All the breath has gone out of her. It's the first time anyone has gotten it right. The news is still recent to her family, and their familiarity with what she used to be is too rigid for a smooth transition. Her parents still stumble over her old name. They look at her and still see a son with knobby knees, cropped hair, and years of boyish mischief. For a few weeks she felt a different apology perched on her tongue for every member of her family.

But now she feels those apologies begin to wither. That doesn't seem to have a place in a world where people acknowledge her new name.

"Estelle, we're going to be late!"

Twice. A trembling hand puts down the brush. A trembling heart sits inside her chest. The smile comes across her face before she can control its width and sincerity, and she stands up.

"I'm coming! I'm coming."

463 Estelle attempts to elope.
She slides down against the tree and sits at its base. Her hair sticks to her neck, her shoulders. Even under the moon, August is so hot that everything clings. She picks up a blade of grass and peals it to pieces. She does this over and over and over again, only stopping when she hears a twig snap or the sound of his breathing. She whirls her head at each sound, searching for him in the dark, but he is never there.

He said to meet him here by midnight. Two hours have passed, and she is beginning to wonder if someone caught him, if he was ambushed by robbers on his way to her. When the fourth hour goes by, she begins to give up hope.

The sun rises. She mounts her stolen horse and rides home. Defeated and angry and heartbroken, she makes no effort to return to her room quietly. She has run away from home many times without being detected; she is practiced in the art of escaping, but now, she does not care if anyone learns of her actions. It makes no difference. She writes him a letter, asking for an explanation. He writes back: You thought I was serious?

She is disconsolate for weeks.

464 Notes on a World is published.
The first half of the book contains works on religion and the natural world. The second half transitions into the internal world and matters of the heart. It is dedicated to the man who jilted her. In these poems, she roasts him for what he did to her: she reveals his secrets, insults his anatomy, and accuses him of "a treason of the heart."

He writes her a letter: You are wild and mad; how could you do this to me? I am ruined.

She replies: So be ruined.

465 - 467 Behavioral changes; disappointing her family.
"I don't know what is in me that makes me so ruinous," she says. She is nursing a hangover with a goblet of wine, and her voice is quiet, tired. She doesn't remember the night before. There was a party where she made a fool of herself; this is nothing new to her. Getting drunk in public and bursting with unfortunate emotions has become an unfortunate habit, one she is not particularly proud of the next day, but one for which she doesn't apologize.

"Well, I don't remember a bit of it. Tell me what I did this time."

He was there, the man who promised a loving marriage and then said he hadn't been serious. Years later, the sight of him still burns. Not only that, but there was a woman, too—a woman who had rebuked her, and though Estelle hadn't loved her nearly as much, it was enough to add an extra sting.

"I must have felt cornered, having both of them there."

She made threats, shouted obscenities, made lewd gestures. She threw her arms this way and that, spilling the wine in her glass, caring less about the mess than the people around her who inevitably were stained with it. After the rage came the tears, and one of her siblings had to drag her away before she made even more of a scene.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Why should I; they deserved it."

These outbursts are not limited to her drunkenness. They happen sober, too. A minor offense strikes a deep chord in her. A mild disagreement becomes the food for a flaming argument that can last for weeks. She holds grudges. She behaves erratically. One can never anticipate when she will transform from a graceful, elegant lady into a monster whose mouth foams with accusations.

"All right, all right. It won't happen again."

But it happens again. And again, and again, and again.

471 Jilted again.
"How could this happen again?"

How could I be so stupid to let this happen to me again?

She met him years ago, in the years when her behavior spiraled away from a manageable and into utter wildness. She spent a great deal of time writing poetry for him, all of which she enclosed in their many letters to one another and gifted to him. She had considered him a great friend and an even greater love—someone formidable whose madness matched her own. When he suggested running away together, she should have paused, considered, thought.

"I never think," she says. "Maybe that's how."

They were going to run away, and then he wrote her a letter explaining why he couldn't. Ten pages long, melodramatic, promising he still adored her, but so conciliatory she felt the love suddenly grow false.

"I'm just foolish," she said, "thinking I could be in love and be married at the same time."

They're different things, love and marriage. She knows that. As a concept, at least, she knows it—but now that she has been abandoned twice, she is beginning to understand how real it is.

She had been painting a portrait of him. It was meant to be a surprise. She had never given up painting, though it came second these days to her writing, but it remained a beloved talent. She put it in a cheap, wooden frame and set a match to it. The thing burned almost all the way through. Few parts of it were left unscathed, though it had clearly once been a portrait of him. Once the flames settled into a cold ash, she called a courier to bring it to him with the following note attached:

I hope that you burn.

473 Chimerical is published.
Estelle's second book is published early in 473. The collection is slightly more magical than her last. She is clearly no longer a teenage poet, and her language and command of poetic structure has grown. Included in this book are many of the poems she sent to the second man who broke her heart, and many that were written after the entire ordeal. Like before, it is a scandal of disclosed secrets and insults.

He writes her a nonchalant letter: And is this, my little wild maybird, how you intend to burn me? Try harder; I can spot not a single blister on my person.

She replies: Very well; I shall fan the flames higher.

473 Destroys relations with the Ranas, which causes her sister to marry one.
"Perhaps I should just stop loving," says Estelle.

But the problem is not her loving; the problem is her drinking, her erratic behavior, her sharp tongue. The problem is that she does not know when to stop. She is a creature of excess hurt, and the hurt she cannot contain within herself often ends up thrown haphazardly at other people.

"And adventuring."

There is an opportunity to go to Persad, and so she goes. She has never been there before, and she is beginning to feel restless at home, surrounded by so many people who know her and know what to expect of her. Just after her arrival, the Civil War begins. It is not the place she wants to be, especially not with a war going on. She wants to be home, in a place she understands, in a place where she feels safe.

"And writing, and speaking."

She does not get along very well with the princess, and it ruins everything. The Civil War ruins everything, yes, but perhaps if she got along with the Ranas—well—perhaps she would not have so many outbursts that result in so many insults. At one point she pens an entire pamphlet dedicated to explaining why she is so unhappy and why their family is so terrible. And a family can only tolerate so much disrespect in their own home.

"I should. I should just—stop every bit of this."

The war ends. She returns home. But her mess has to be cleaned up. Her sister's hand is offered to negotiate a peace. Her eyes burn, and her throat does, too. She feels an apology perched on the tip of her tongue. A trembling heart sits inside her chest.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I am."
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