Being a wife had always been her one "goal" in life, even if her life wasn't even hers. Stella had been raised to be what one would call a bride, a wife, a mother. Learned to many things that, by now, are completely useless. She could remember the rage she felt when she was told about the engagement- just a little girl, holding all that anger, and taking it out in everyone else.

And her ex-husband, Stolas. Oh, the ever-victim. Why couldn't he admit that he was not, at all, guilty? That he was no saint, ever? Neither of them were happy, they could both be victims together. But, no. Of course not. Mister sad owl over there just HAD to be the whiniest of babies about it.

And now, here she was. Drunk, in a random low-town bar, with no stop to it. Everyone was dead-drunk as well, so... no one seemed to notice that she, a member of the Goetia family, was there.