======Owain Winde====== ==== Anthology ==== **Queen Dolorosa:** How will they manage without me I wonder? Without my insight and wits?\\ **Assassin 1:** They will live until they are deemed a problem like you.\\ **Queen Dolorosa:** Come now, this is no time for threats. My time has come, I concede this. Permit me, for a moment at least, to mourn the parts of my sons and daughters that will die with me.\\ **Assassin 2:** Many among them will not mourn your loss.\\ **Queen Dolorosa:** And many among them will never be the same. My prayers dwell with them and their hearts, not with your masters. I will meet death as I lived: with grace, compassion, and integrity. === -From "La Reyerta del Rey", Act 2 Scene 3, by Owain Winde === ---- **Cecília:** It would be better, my dear, to live in bliss, ignorant of this crushing weight that bears down upon me. Upon us both. Perhaps the Párt is right to keep this cursed knowledge from our hands. It has gained me nothing. Were I still the woman I once was, I would cherish these last days I have with him; I would smile softly and drink tea as the evening sun blankets us in warmth. But I am not that woman; that woman died when his doom imposed itself on her. The woman I am now must watch in terror and in awe as he marches ever closer to the edge. I cannot reach for him; the serpent’s eyes will see me, and in seeing me, my doom will be to follow him at their hand. They care not for love, nor tragedy. Perhaps they have more in common with Fate than they know. === -From "The Making of a Widow", Act 3 Scene 2, by Owain Winde === ---- **Perdita:** And what if it does mean the end of my house, Sir Aquilla? If it continues to stand, I’m condemned to remain under their thumb until my guardian’s last breath. I may be young, but I will not wait for my life to come to me. You’ve brought me a chance.\\ **Aquilla:** I only wished to bring you the truth that was being kept from you, your fate-book, your narration--\\ //(Perdita rises, her stance certain and full of purpose)//\\ **Perdita:** And what is fate but the promise of things to come? That it won’t always be like this? That I will live? You cared for my story enough to see it penned. Will you not also help me now, and see its will be done? === -From "Perdita’s Plot", Act 1 Scene 5, by Owain Winde === ---- **Bard:** And so it is that we part our ways now, my dearest friends. Our time together has been short, and yet we have learned much from one another. Though the vines press us close and the bell tolls the close of day, we will go on from this place as we please -- each our separate ways or hand in hand with another--\\ //(Walking forward, he winks to chosen audience member. The bramble curtains close up behind him, the rest of the cast is now silhouettes.)//\\ **Bard:** --save those whose lives have been lost in service to this cause. The story of what happened here, you will each carry with you to the end of time, and the ends of the earth. But here and now, a decision must be made. We have each pled our case, and now the die is cast. Who knows what verdict will grace the morn? Surely not I! Fair people of the world, fair lovers, fair friends: remember us; remember me. I bid you goodnight! === -From "A Crux of Fate", Act 4 Scene 4, Author Unknown === //Written by Gareth M.// ---- ====== In Memoriam ====== Owain Winde may be dead, but he’s alive in the memories of those who knew him. His impact on those around him continues to grow in his absence. He is mourned publicly. The death of such a playwright hits the theatre scene hard. Writers and actors alike wear black and praise his works. Plays are written with the dedication //“In Memory of Owain Winde.”// Moments of silence are observed during productions of The Making of a Widow and A Cordellian Quarrel. They do name a new theatre after Owain Winde—a man willing to die for his craft must be honoured. And Owain is mourned privately too. He is remembered by those who called him a friend: Dēor, Sagitta, Fürge, Percy, Benedikta. Anecdotes of Owain’s life are shared among friends. The name is common in the home of Dēor and Sagitta—stories of a shared childhood are returned with a story of a shared adulthood. He’s gone and yet only after death is the whole Owain Winde seen by those who were around him. The news of Owain’s death is brought to his family by Dēor and a grave is placed in the forests of Vyrhen. The sun warms the stone and in the summer, stray cats lounge among the flowers that are left there. The manuscripts remain with those Owain gave them to, blood splattered and heavy with memories. In the darkness of the night, when the memories of the Election feel far away enough to feel false, many of the Electors return to the play. //A Crux of Fate//, is as Fate ordained, a success. It’s performed in every nation; night after night theatres are full of excited people from all walks of life excited to see the play (some returning to watch it for the second, third, fourth, even fifth time). Every night there’s a standing ovation, every night the name Owain Winde is praised by those in the audience. On one of these nights there’s a young woman in the audience. Her eyes well with tears at the climax of the play. She leaves with a burning desire to write, to create, to make something that’s even 10% as good as the Crux of Fate. Owain Winde continues on not only in his own works, but in the countless works of those inspired by him. Owain Winde has two graves; a sun-warmed stony memorial deep in the forests of West Vyrhen; a grand marble display in the gardens of Zeivahr’s best theatre. It is often said that love is stronger than death, and upon looking at his graves it could not be argued that Owain was not loved.