Eliza Poe died on Sunday morning, December 8, 1811, at the age of twenty-four, surrounded by her children. It is generally assumed that she died of tuberculosis. She is buried at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Richmond. Though her actual burying place is unknown, a memorial marks the general area.

After her death, her three children were split up. William Henry Leonard Poe lived with his paternal grandparents in Baltimore, Edgar Poe was taken in by John and Frances Allan in Richmond, and Rosalie Poe was adopted by William and Jane Scott Mackenzie in Richmond.

(Photo: Memorial marker for Eliza Arnold Poe in Richmond, Virginia.)

Death Doesn't Discriminate

Something of a follow up to @uruvielnumenesse’s own Star Wars/Hamilton AU found here ==> http://uruvielnumenesse.tumblr.com/post/137776174747/rey-hamilton
(Love you, Uru!)

Oh! And as a side note: Bernard is BB8 (thank you Tyler at work for supplying name choices with B).
Ben was heading back to his home, steps quick. People in the streets were already spreading the word, Hux had told him to go home before Poe and Finn heard the news. He could imagine the way Poe would take the news, the crumbling of his face when he saw Rey, and the way Finn would break down.

He tried to say he didn’t regret it, but he’d be lying. Firing the blaster when he should have known– having known her for so long– that she’d sooner turn her saber on herself than shoot him. She was too level-headed for such an atrocious impairment of judgement. It was too detached and even during the war she had disliked blasters, preferring the lightsaber.

And it wasn’t until it was too late he realized that the same area, the same island he had demanded they duel, was where her only son, Bernard, died in a similar altercation. If he’d known that, he’d have chosen a better place. Where her mind wasn’t elsewhere, where she didn’t need her glasses to see clearly through the fog of sadness and regrets.

“Raise a glass to freedom…”

He flinched at the song, ducking his head, aiming to run the last bit to his home.

“You bastard!”

Ben froze, turning at the voice.

A moment later he was sprawled in the street, an angry, newly made widower standing above him. Finn was holding Poe back, but only just as he heaved at his brother’s hold.

“You son of a bantha, you killed her! You killed Rey, my wife!” Poe screamed. His typically cheerful, kind face was wet with tears, an unadulterated rage present. When he realized Finn wouldn’t release him, he spat at Ben’s feet. He breathed despair with every word out his mouth. “You’re no better than Snoke.”

“Poe,” Finn whispered, pulling him away. “Stop it. She wouldn’t want this.”

“I– I’m sorry,” Ben whispers, rising to his feet, knowing he deserved the blow to his face. He was the villain now. Always had been, in a way. Now he’s proved it. “I hadn't–”

“Don’t say a thing,” Finn growls, his own pain flashing across his visage, a lightening strike of fury. “You have no right.”

“Go home to your wife.” Poe shudders, turning away. “Go home to your dear Phasma. I’m sure she’ll welcome a killer into her arms.”

Ben clenches his hands, feeling the skin of his palms tear under the smooth edges of his nails. He stares at Poe’s back, saying steadily, “I had never meant to aim at her. When she put on her glasses, and the vigor she used when examining the blaster, made me believe she was going to aim true. I refused to leave my Padmé fatherless as my grandfather had my mother and uncle. I would not make an orphan of my daughter.”

Poe looks tempted to speak, tempted to call Ben on his cowardice. He wouldn’t blame the heartbroken man.

“I am really, truly, terribly sorry, Poe Dameron.”

Ben hesitated, wanted to say something more but didn’t know what else. So he stepped back, turned, and walked home.

Poe crumbled against Finn, sobbing into his jacket.