| QUOTE |
Olivier was born to Calrion Manor at the far west Pemberton Duchy. His mother was a newly arrived Soleilan commoner who came to serve as a maid, she was only ever referred to as Margret by his father. Margret fell under the charms of the notorious Monsieur Renaldo, Olivier's father also Soleilan born, nine months later Olivier was born. Margret died in child birth, but Oliver survived and grew into a healthy toddler. At this stage Monsieur Renaldo through Merchantry entrepreneurialship gained a vast amount of wealth, therefore attracting the eye of many an eligible females. Off to court Monsieur Renaldo went, only to then return with a pretty, petite, and fair haired lady by the name of Roselind. They had bad been married at court, and the wedding consummated before returning to Calrion so that Lady Roselind could serve her proper role as Lady of the manor. All of this was quite a lot for 4 year old Olivier to handle, but he managed and as he continued to grow, so did Lady Roselind hate of the boy. She despised Olivier's illegitimate birth, and the fact that Olivier's father, Lord Renaldo accepted Olivier and named him heir only fueled her resentment. As one year, then two passed and Roselind failed to conceive children of any sex, her marriage to Lord Renaldo was beginning to deteriorate. Lady Roselind took this out on six year old Olivier, cursing him, beating him and punishing him at any interval. The day came when Roselind finally announced that she was pregnant and things seemed to improve for Oliver instantly. The baby was born, a little girl by the name of Dorothée, she was a prized beauty from the beginning, but oddly appeared nothing at all like Monsieur Renaldo and only slightly like his wife Roselind, coming out with a mass of red hair and large green eyes, she inherited none of the major features of either side of the family. But the legitimacy of her birth was never questioned and Monsieur Renaldo took the child in as his daughter without a second doubt. The baby and Olivier grew up together and as they grew, they drew closer. He was her protector, watching her every step. Roselind looked down on their closeness, considering Olivier of a lower class than her precious legitimate child, but she did nothing to interfere with the relationship, At least... for some time. When Oliver grew to the age of 16 and the health of then 39 year old Renaldo worsened, the title of all the estates of the house of Bessette was transferred to the boy Olivier and Roselind became blind with rage. For days she petitioned Renaldo to rethink things and grant his one and only true born blood the lands in spite of her sex, but Renaldo did not relent and she only stopped when he threatened divorce in his last days. Olivier sought escape from the conflicts of his household and his stepmother's hatred in art. A painter commissioned to do a family portrait helped him discover his love of humanities. Soon painting became a daily task for him, and the boy found he had natural ability. Renaldo passed away on a cool August day and for the first time Olivier wept, as did Dorothée, because she was old enough to understand the event that had occurred and over the years had formed a close and loving relationship with her father. Roselind on the other hand did not weep. The cold hostility that Roselind regarded Olivier with finally took him to a level where he was not able to handle it anymore, per his father's wishes and because of the immense love he had for then 10 year old Dorothée, he did not displace Roselind. Olivier's solution to the problem was to build a smaller house on Calrion Manor from his father's wealth, one in which he would reside in. That and to frequent court almost year round, only returning to see Dorothée. |
| QUOTE |
Olivier sat by the pond, on the dirty, dead grass and leave covered ground. His brush hung in his hand, his small easel lay on his lap, smattered in watercolor of different hues. Sitting back he admired the work on the paper. If he said so himself, what he was looking at wasn’t bad, not bad at all. Sighing with pleasure he set down his brush and looked at the water. The lighting in that moment seemed perfection in his eyes. The sun caught the surface of the pond and glittered like a mass of enticing and unattainable jewels, small ripples deflected rays only slight, adding to the beauty of the image in front of him. Staring down at his paper, he only barely recognized that he had been attempting to duplicate what he saw. While the picture on the easel was fine, even good, it was nothing compared to the picture in front of him. He should have know he would never be able to duplicate nature at it’s finest. Setting down Easel also next to him, he lay back facing the sky with his hands folded on his lap. Olivier thought back on his day wondering what he had done, the answer…the answer was nothing. He had dwindled his morning with polite conversation and his afternoon with hunting, now as the sunset in the sky above him…he had completed nothing worth mention. The evening meal was most likely at this point commencing and he was aware he was missing it as he shielded his eyes from the sun’s now weak rays. Hunger wasn’t bothering him so Olivier refused the urge to rise from the ground. A moment to gather the thoughts that encircled his head was what he needed, not food. |