𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈

[vampireapologist]

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❝ 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔞 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 . . .
𝔞 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢. 𝔞 𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢: 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔱
𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔰. 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔵.
𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔢𝔵𝔠𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡, 𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔰 . . . ❞

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☙ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 - 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗 ❧
𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦. 𝔷𝔬𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔡.

• ✧ Ｂ Ａ Ｃ Ｋ Ｇ Ｒ Ｏ Ｕ Ｎ Ｄ ✧ •

𝖋 𝖚 𝖑 𝖑 . 𝖓 𝖆 𝖒 𝖊 . Susanna Apolinna Creissant Enid La Laciere
𝖓 𝖎 𝖈 𝖐 𝖓 𝖆 𝖒 𝖊 𝖘 . Try as she might go by Anna as a child, no one seemed bothered to listen. Susie came quite naturally; she still bristles each time it is used. As she finally blossoms into a woman, more townsfolk are finally bothering to use her name in full, but it would almost feel strange to hear her friends call her Susanna. They're all the more likely to use something equally sweet or sinister ━ Suan, pet, demoness, dream-weaver, black widow, little lamb, Apollo { after her first middle name }, usherer of the apocalypse . . .

𝖇 𝖎 𝖗 𝖙 𝖍 𝖉 𝖆 𝖞 . 19th July
𝖟 𝖔 𝖉 𝖎 𝖆 𝖈 . ☼ Cancer · ☽ Scorpio · ↑ Libra

𝖕 𝖊 𝖗 𝖘 𝖔 𝖓 𝖆 𝖑 . 𝖘 𝖊 𝖆 𝖑 . For all matters of work, Suan dips her seal in bright jade wax, to reveal a small gathering of bluebells. [ picture this but more like the aforementioned flower ] This surprises those who don't know her, as it seems more likely that a girl named Susanna would have lilies on her sigil, for the meaning of her name. But given how she dislikes it so, it is fair that she tries to distance herself from it. Suan's finest clients also receive the most delicate and tiny silk bow { hand-spun, as always } resting upon those bluebells. But those with a more personal touch are known to get the bright green with little droplets of black and scarlet scattered about. The delicate flowers are swapped for a proud spider, with suspiciously large fangs and a rose for the { deadly } abdomen marking.

• ✧ Ｃ Ｕ Ｒ Ｒ Ｅ Ｎ Ｔ ✧ •

𝖋 𝖆 𝖓 𝖈 𝖎 𝖊 𝖘 . Drowning her apartment with flowers ✧ Spending all hours of all days by Odilia ✧ Training the neighbor's goat to do her bidding ✧ Spiders and their equally intricate weaving ✧ The funds she is embezzling from the lace shoppe into her own, secret stash ✧ Losing herself in the swirls of the tide ✧ Afternoon naps in any place but bed ✧ Odilia's fingers playing in her hair while she reads a terrible story aloud ✧ The terrible cry when a victim has realized they've been trumped by "little girls" ✧ The trail of broken hearts left behind her ✧ Finishing a particularly difficult weaving project ✧ Abandoning her sister in an especially baleful location ✧ All her friends causing trouble together ✧ The book about advanced poisons she recently stole from the town bookstore's back room

𝖆 𝖇 𝖍 𝖔 𝖗 𝖗 𝖊 𝖓 𝖈 𝖊 𝖘 . Anything resembling pity or being looked down on ✧ Tania, her stupid lace-weaving rival ✧ Proper lessons and annoying tutors ✧ Her wretched uncles or the watchful gaze of her mother which seems not to miss anything ✧ How short a time she is able to hold her breath and stay underwater ✧ Getting in fights with Odilia ✧ Being permanently banished from half the island's emporiums ✧ Shoes, shoes, shoes ✧ Ebony getting better at following and keeping up ✧ The guilt she feels for not liking boys with the same fiery passion she feels for other girls and how confusing it all is

𝖉 𝖊 𝖘 𝖎 𝖗 𝖊 𝖘 . To recover her sweet dove from the clutches of House Colombe ✧ To find the courage to tell Odilia that Susanna is actually tired of her other little playthings and doesn't have any affection for them ✧ To rid them both of the menace that is marriage ✧ To stamp out her family's influence on her life decisions ✧ To roll down a grassy hill without getting dizzy ✧ To choke a worthy victim with the most delicate lace she has ever weaved ✧ To be the omen of darkness half the island claims her to be

𝖙 𝖗 𝖔 𝖚 𝖇 𝖑 𝖊 𝖘 . What really killed her father, if he is dead after all? Why is Ode not returning her storm doves? Why is this island not big enough for her dreams anymore? Is paradise still so when it feels more like a cage? How can she make sure her uncles and mother can never drag her back home without ending up at the disposal of another man? Why can Ebony not find her own things to do, instead of trying to follow her around all the time? Is it not enough for her sister to be better than Suan at everything, save weaving, already? Are her own skills in lace-making a blessing she can use for her own freedom, or a curse that will drag her down like an anchor?

• ✧ Ｒ Ｕ Ｍ Ｏ Ｒ Ｓ ✧ •

𝖎. Coveted as Susanna originals may now be, they are not without their price. And, no, we aren't talking about the one in gold, though that appears to be increasing on each silly whim of hers as well. Did you once laugh at her in school? Well, your design is now going to cost double the person who ordered before you. That could be tolerable if it weren't for the curses sewn into each seemingly-delicate pattern. Susanna is frightfully ordinary, make no mistake, but that doesn't stop her from trying to instill a bit of Darkness in each piece. A stitch to break out in spots. A stitch to bear a stillborn. A stitch to make a husband unfaithful. This rumor may have only to taken root in the last two weeks, as her popularity rose above the other promising young lace-weaver in town. Entirely unsuspicious, of course. Because some seem to remember this long being the reason her mother refused to let her do any lacework solo . . .

𝖎𝖎. The once-great Maddock La Laciere is, in fact, the still-great. He hardly goes by the same name anymore; how could he, when he fled the island by faking his death? It was the only measure that would work to truly let himself loose from the clutches of his terrible wife and even more sinister daughters. He might even come back one day to take back his riches, as the only male left in his once-great lineage. After his daughters marry, the La Laciere name will disappear from Colombells forever. And what a fortune to pack up and abandon. Surely, his family must be truly evil to have convinced him to leave behind such wealth. He may return to the shores any day now to claim what is rightfully his, and will that be a new family ━ with a proper male heir ━ in tow with him? After all, the likeness of Maddock on a nearby island is too uncanny to be simple coincidence.

• ✧ Ｔ Ｙ Ｐ Ｉ Ｃ Ａ Ｌ Ｓ ✧ •

𝖜 𝖆 𝖗 𝖉 𝖗 𝖔 𝖇 𝖊 . Susanna is all too often wearing clothes too big for her; all the easier to slip out of them and into the cool embrace of the waves. Her favorite thing to wear is the seafoam and perhaps a pearl or two. A cloud will do in a pinch. She loves big puffy sleeves, as she jokes it is the closest she can get to wearing cloud-blossoms without causing her mother too faint. Many are surprised Suan does not wear more of her own work, but it is more likely to find her clothes scattered with errant, mismatched lace designs. If she gets a new pattern in her head, she wants to immediately try it out. That often means using her own clothes as scraps. She sometimes goes back to even the designs out or have them make sense later, but not always. And where have her shoes gone? It always seems to be a mystery. Though she adores the same wide hats most young girls use to hide from the sun, Suan's tend to be bouncing uselessly at the nape of her neck. Anything to receive more star-kissed freckles.

𝖘 𝖈 𝖊 𝖓 𝖙 𝖘 . Salty ocean water, screaming matches that end in shattered glass, venomous words you can't take back, and candle wax burned too long into night.

𝖕 𝖑 𝖆 𝖈 𝖊 𝖘 . 𝖒 𝖔 𝖘 𝖙 . 𝖑 𝖎 𝖐 𝖊 𝖑 𝖞 . 𝖙 𝖔 . 𝖇 𝖊 . 𝖋 𝖔 𝖚 𝖓 𝖉 . In the water, any water, dragging one of her dearest friends in behind her. Oh, and that wretched store that now demands too much, too much of her time!

𝖕 𝖊 𝖔 𝖕 𝖑 𝖊 . 𝖒 𝖔 𝖘 𝖙 . 𝖑 𝖎 𝖐 𝖊 𝖑 𝖞 . 𝖙 𝖔 . 𝖇 𝖊 . 𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . Wasn't it always Odilia? Her sweet married friend now feels like a ghost. Maybe that's why Suan is always sulking around Gisela now, hoping she will have the key to bringing Ode back to life.

𝖘 𝖙 𝖗 𝖔 𝖓 𝖌 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 . 𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗 . 𝖙 𝖗 𝖆 𝖎 𝖙 . Deceptive.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖓 𝖓 𝖊 𝖗 𝖎 𝖘 𝖒 𝖘 . { I'm not very happy with this section, but I suppose I'll leave it for now. } Susanna has never been in a hurry to do anything except make mischief. She is a slow, graceful thing. Her hands have been trained to take part in the most delicate, precise motions, and nearly her entire body has been curved to the same methodology. Susanna is always in control { well, at least physically }, even when her swaying hips and droopy, lovesick eyes want you to think otherwise. If not splashing about in the deepest depths of a pool, she is probably fanning herself lazily or squishing her bare toes deep into the sand. She will only run to meet her friends or get away from the poor chap she and Odilia just tricked, as she would rather be late to everything than bothered to manage her time better. And, of course, no proper lady would literally ever run, but Suan is particularly skilled in not showing up. She only opens her storefront at a decent hour because she lives right above it. Not that the town's young ladies would admit it, but Susanna is known for her sultry winks, twinkling eyes, beckoning playful fingers . . . and sliding out of her dresses a little too liberally.

𝖔 𝖈 𝖈 𝖚 𝖕 𝖆 𝖙 𝖎 𝖔 𝖓 𝖘 . Skinny dipping at all hours of the day but especially in the cold dead of night where your wrongdoings can lead to the most fabulous whispers of haunted spirits ✧ Sneaking sherry from her uncles' stores and making the other uncle take the fall — and if this one begins to think he has gone a bit insane, all the better ✧ Finding a way to sneak back into Swanwalow with elaborate costumes { though Suan won't risk any damage to Ode's perfect blonde locks }; sure, none have worked yet, but perhaps with Tréphine on their side . . . ✧ Discovering new horror scenes to secretly craft into lace designs ✧ Scoffing at her little sister and never letting Ebony join in on her friends and their fun ✧ Unfairly charging lace prices based on how much she likes or loathes someone ✧ Scaring her friends from corners or closets at any and every opportunity ✧ Convincing the island's most naive young girls to act on their secret desires.

• ✧ Ｂ Ｉ Ｏ Ｇ Ｒ Ａ Ｐ Ｈ Ｙ ✧ •

𝖔 ! 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐 .
☙ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 ❧

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Susanna comes from a well-off family of lacemakers ━ the very one that crafted Odilia's wedding veil, in fact. Susanna does pride herself in being able to weave delicate, bucolic landscapes out of lace ━ and for Odilia's veil . . . Well, it was her first solo masterwork, a piece crafted of heart and soul . . . with a hidden depiction of the Danaïdes endless task of hauling water in hades for having killed their husbands on their wedding night. A secret that would get her flayed alive by her parents if they knew but surely delighted Odilia once she discovered it. And since the wedding, orders for Susanna's particular work have been coming in by the droves. The social elites just adore the frailty of her lace pieces. And suddenly suitors are coming out of the woodworks ━ an engagement is surely on its way! Susanna's family has never been more proud. { "With that awful brat married off, Susie can finally focus on her work." } Susanna wonders now, a curious delight spreading through her stomach . . . "How shall I spoil it all?" Perhaps it's all the contact with Odilia throughout the years ━ and the bizarre love they have for one another . . . a bit like licking a shard of a broken mirror or running naked over the linn on a dare ━ but there isn't much Susanna wouldn't do any more thanks to Odilia. The reckless fight that her companion seems to have lost ? Susanna keeps it safe in her chest for now, and sends her love and pieces of handmade lace by carrier-dove. "Stinging kisses from the needle I used to make your veil. Will visit soon. Love, Suan."

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𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 , 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘 .
☙ 𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔞 ❧

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ When Maddock La Laciere tragically died fourteen years ago, he left his poor wife and two young daughters behind. Thankfully, the lady Leala had two of her own brothers to take over the finances and duties of such a large house and prestigious company. But it did mean the end of the La Laciere name, for there were no male heirs left to carry on the paternal line. Though there was nothing they could do to remedy such tragedy, Uncle Tierney and Kaspar were especially attentive to their nieces. This had everything to do with wanting to take care of them and nothing to do with the little girls being the key to officially taking over the La Laciere wealth . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ All the same, it was apparent quite early on that the eldest daughter, Susanna, was more trouble than she was worth. She was born more delicate than the lace she would one day weave, and nearly everyone was convinced she would not live to see her first birthday. However, the pale sickly thing somehow survived, year after year, despite the rumors always spinning after her that she was always a breathe away from death. Some even say she caused her father's death through the manner in which her very life imbalanced the natural order. { Floating islands are quite fond of balance, after all. }

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Her uncles were always there, calling it doting, but in fact, they were drowning her with attention. If this cursed child was going to survive, she needed to at least be of use. The countless hours stuck inside made her a natural prodigy with the work of La Laciere Atelier. Though the estate encompasses some farmland and boasts of mysterious family money with no explained origin, lace-weaving has long been the family's most steady form of income. Thus, many of Suan's waking hours of youth were spent dedicated to the craft.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ She hardly remembers a life before her father's death. All her early memories are tormented by her little sister. If Susanna was the angel of death, Ebony was simply an angel. Everything she touched turned to sunshine. Though over two years younger, it took her hardly any time at all to catch up to the same tutoring lessons as Susanna. She succeeded in every instrument she tried. Ebony's manners were impeccable; their mother still claims she never once threw a tantrum.

Really mess notes I am working on turning into a thought-out, sensical biography

• looks as delicate as the lace she weaves and, as a baby, was quite frequently assumed to be diseased. the island folk were dismissive of her very existence; they said every breath was a gift, surely close to her last { was she not cursed, to be a living corpse this long? }
• little odilia was the only one who did not treat her like porcelain { or the anti-christ, though she learned to rather enjoy that bit }, the only one who trusted her feet to run through the fields and arms to cartwheel without breaking to pieces
• raised with particularly attentive adults in her life, due to her weak constitution and the loss of her father. ever since he died, her mother's brothers have been like shadows to make sure their nieces do not ruin their family's name { or access to the la laciere finances }
• has a younger sister whom she completely loathes for being better at everything { except lacework, thank you kindly }
• . . . and who she would totally kill for if anyone ever hurt ebony, not that she'd admit it out loud
• kind in a way that's perhaps . . . empty. however, often gets pitied by outsiders for "being swayed into darkness" because she seems sweet when on her own. of course, that's probably because her warm smile and batting lashes are being used as a distraction. but it has garnered susanna a reputation for being a rather "lost lamb" led astray by the "wolf" that is odilia, especially given the quality of her work. no heathen would be gifted by god with the ability to create such finery, surely! { yes, now that her lace is renowned, they'll all forget the years spent calling her the devil spawn. too busy clamoring to be the best dressed at the next party, aren't they? must have slipped their minds }
• more of a follower but particularly skilled in refining ideas -- like the guiding hand in making the mischief come to particularly evil fruition, rather than the spark of inspiration that spurred the girls to run out into the night in the first place
• has a scar on the left side of her upper lip that stretches just a noticeable length, when close enough to be holding polite conversation { and ode will laugh rather impolitely if she hears you asking how susanna got it }
• been secretly staying in the apartment above the lace shoppe for quite some time after an argument with her mother and one of the uncles that exploded beyond the normal annoyance. the freedom is exhilarating, but of course, it's not that authentic. someone is always poking their head up there to goad her into coming home. too bad they can't seem to get her back without causing a scene -- the last thing they want when susanna is finally getting proper suitors. and she will use this to her advantage as long as she possibly can . . .
• has a recent suspicion about someone close to her that may very well ignite the rage that has always been secretly stirring within

• ✧ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ ✧ •

𝖎𝖙’𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊 , 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 . 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 .
☙ 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰 ❧

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖔 𝖉 𝖎 𝖑 𝖎 𝖆 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 . 𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦 . 𝔨𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔧𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔨𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔯𝔢 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖈 𝖔 𝖓 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘 𝖘 𝖊 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 . 𝔵𝔵 . 𝔷𝔦𝔴𝔢𝔦 𝔠𝔞𝔬 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖙 𝖗 𝖊 𝖕 𝖍 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔬𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔲𝔯 . 𝔵𝔦𝔵 . 𝔠𝔶𝔫𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔞 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔬𝔩𝔞 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖌 𝖎 𝖘 𝖊 𝖑 𝖆 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢 . 𝔵𝔦𝔵 . 𝔰𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞 𝔨𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔞 .

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓-𝖉𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖐 , 𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 , 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 ,
☙ 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 ❧

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖒 𝖆 𝖉 𝖉 𝖔 𝖈 𝖐 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔯 . 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡 - 𝔵𝔵𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦 { 𝔩𝔦 𝔦𝔣 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 } . 𝔧𝔬𝔰𝔥 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔶 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖑 𝖊 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯 . 𝔵𝔵𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦 . 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔦𝔡𝔞 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖊 𝖇 𝖔 𝖓 𝖞 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 . 𝔵𝔳 . 𝔩𝔢𝔵𝔦 𝔟𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔴𝔞𝔧 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖙 𝖎 𝖊 𝖗 𝖓 𝖊 𝖞 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔰𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔲𝔯 . 𝔩𝔦𝔦𝔦 . 𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔣𝔞𝔫 𝔨𝔥𝔞𝔫 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖐 𝖆 𝖘 𝖕 𝖆 𝖗 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯 . 𝔵𝔩𝔦𝔦 . 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔞𝔩 .

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖔𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 .
☙ 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ❧

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖙 𝖆 𝖓 𝖎 𝖆 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 . 𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦 . 𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔞 𝔞𝔨𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔞 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖉 𝖗 𝖆 𝖐 𝖔 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡 . 𝔵𝔦𝔦𝔦 . 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔶 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖗 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔣𝔞𝔯𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 . 𝔵𝔵𝔦𝔵 . 𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔴 𝔤𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖎 𝖘 𝖔 𝖇 𝖊 𝖑 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔬𝔢𝔱 . 𝔵𝔵 . 𝔣𝔞𝔯𝔥𝔦𝔶𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔢 .

𝖜 𝖎 𝖙 𝖍 . 𝖒 𝖆 𝖗 𝖘 𝖊 𝖑 𝖑 𝖆 .
. . . . . . . . . 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔢 . 𝔩𝔵𝔵𝔦 . 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔩'𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢 .