LOG: Funeral of Zaridos and His Children
From FiranMUX
Funeral of Zaridos and His Children
--------------------------- Firan Time Information ---------------------------
[IC] [RL]
06:32:19 AM, Wed Oct 06, 48 A.U. Server time: 23:23:52 Fri Mar 05, 2010
IC:RL time ratio is 3:1 Your time: 23:23:52 Fri Mar 05, 2010
It's a fall day. Your time zone: EST (GMT -5)
Weather:
Chilling rain pours from thick grey clouds, driven by a furious
southeast wind.
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Anarinuell: Palace District -- Temple of Zin
Cersei enters followed by 7 Eagle clan guards and 3 Gold dragon clan guards.
Rislan walks over toward Elene's voice, sitting with them and speaking in low tones.
Noting Elene, Thaddia, and Rislan, Teonia makes her way over to sit with them as well.
Attis bows low to the various Elianiks or former Elianiks he sees and wanders near Marsalos where he works at the altar and bows to him, giving him a thumbs up as well, but heads over to speak with Quenna.
Quenna links her arm with Aziza, looking for a spot to sit upon. She bows her head once more toward Marsalos, as she notices him, walking with Aziza to their spot. She looks toward the bodies prepared for funeral, her dark eye s sadden at the sight of the children, though her gaze is drawn by Attis. "Mmm?" *Firan*
Aziza keeps her arm linked with Quenna's and gives a thankful sigh at the sitting down. Glancing to Attis faintly when he walks in and gives a faint nod.
Attis smiles over at Aziza, his voice too inaudible to be heard.
Elene settles with her family on the pool ledge and waits quietly for the funeral to begin. When Cersei arrives she raises a hand to wave towards the other girl, motioning for Cersei to join them if she so wishes.
Aeryk arrives. He is bearing a short scrap of papryus folded in one hand. He seems - uncertain of what to do with himself.
Cersei wants very little to do with any of this, to judge by her expression. Good-byes are final and it seems the last remaining member of the family about to be sent off is not handling this exceptionally well. There are no tears, however; her face is set and somewhat cold. She does give a small wave back to Elene and offers a quick nod. Espying her uncle, she moves instead to stand at his side.
Quenna nods her head at Attis and smiles up at him for a moment. She looks to Aziza for a moment, shaking her head gently. She bows her head toward the others entering.
Tyrsun has withdraw to one of the alcoves - although he does acknowledge the presence of Cersei by rising from where he seated himself. His hand reaches to touch her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Even the presence of the girl does not let his face put on an expression of comfort. It is bleak and grim, with no emotion at all.
Thaddia stands by her family members by the ledge, watching people arrive, noting who is hear. She holds her hands in a knot, nodding here and there but seemingly caught in thought.
Aeryk glances at Elene particularly, for no reason immediately apparent, and gives a half shake of his head. He begins to remove the heavier parts of his armor and set them aside.
Attis whispers animatedly to Quenna.
Jordyn makes her way in, quietly, slowly, heavily as her normal grace is severely impaired. She chews on her lip, ooking completely out of sorts, looking around for a familiar face.
Aziza just nods faintly to Attis, not able to meet his smile, as her gaze keeps flicking to the children. Her geeen eyes taking in their small bodies while her fingers brush over her stomache, tears pricking faintly.
Elene watches silently as people arrive, standing shoulder to shoulder with the others of her family. Alright maybe her shoulders are a bit lower than some of the others, but they're standing together.
Harvinia wanders in, the Ticanee steward looking incredibly bleak this evening. She holds her daughter who for once is quiet, to her chest and looks around the place before she takes a place in the alcove.
Quenna shakes her head, and rolls her eyes at Attis words. She pats his shoulder gently, speaking to him. Though her gaze upon Aziza, she rests her hand upon her arm, squeezing it gently.
The thicker iron placed aside (if the greaves, primarily), Aeryk moves past the ledge and into the shallows, where he stands.
Nalene joins the rest of her family, already there.
Zeynus steps in, quietly and stays near the rear, his head bowed slightly as if in prayer for those lives lost.Before raising it again to observe for the moment of those like himself, coming to pay respect.
Cersei manages a faint smile for Tyrsun, which doesn't last terribly long. She pats the hand on her shoulder in what might be a sort of thankful way. She murmurs something quietly to him as well before squeezing his hand and making her way over to Daranos. Espying Aristedes, she gives a small wave to invite him to join her, if he wants.
Aristedes passes into the Temple of Zin. He is without his normal bluster and general Aristedesness. He's subdued. Aristedes takes a look across the temple and, spying Cersei's waves, heads in her direction, leaning to whisper something to her.
Petula moves with the flow of traffic to find an empty seat, settling there with her hands in her lap.
When Cersei makes her way over, Daranos lifts his head from the water's surface to look toward her. His features ease briefly toward a smile, but it is faint, and somewhat forced. It soon fades. He looks at Aristedes briefly, and then past him, noting those who have gathered since last he looked.
Tyrsun exchanges a few quiet words with Cersei before withdrawing himself to sit at the alcove again. His face is bleak and without any emotion. As soon as there is noone there he needs to speak to it almost appears as if he is frozen still. Statuelike.
Cataryna enters with her brother Olivander beside her. At first she spots only the people who have come to pay their respects but then, she notices all the tiny bodies. Her fingers clutch onto Olivander's arm and she turns her head into his chest.
Jordyn stands near the back, taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm herself, though the grief in her expression is clear. Her eyes flicker up, to glance at the bodies, until she has to turn away, to repeat the process, her strength ebbing and flowing like the tides. Appropriate for this place, but difficult for the Bonduin woman.
Thaddia greets Nalene by offering her an arm in a scooping motion.
"It's okay, Cataryna," Olivander comforts his sister, watching the dead bodies with hardened eyes as he mutters something about 'where's democracy when it comes to protecting kids'.
Cersei murmurs somewhat heatedly back to Aristedes, glancing about the temple with a decided frown. There's a single nod of her head when they continue to exchange the quiet words. When Daranos takes notice of her, she too manages something of a softened expression for a moment. There's another nod, this time to Daranos' quiet words. She then turns to regard the still bodies of her father and all of her siblings.
Quenna looks to Attis, her eyes widening, and shakes her head, leaning in to speak with him, she presses her shoulder against Aziza,.
Nestra stands with most of the other clergy of Zin, jaw tight and eyes hard as she awaits the solemnities.
When Lucas arrives, he immediately searches out the crowd for the gathered members of his family - or former family, in the case of this particular somber gathering. For the moment, he is quiet, appropriately reserved in manner, and dressed in his Elianik armor once again. Nothing in particular is said once he goes to stand among his relatives, his presence simply offered.
Nalene leans against Thaddia, slipping an arm around her cousin to return the greeting. Her expression is as closed and bleak as any around her, almost as though this was a sorrow beyond tears.
Marsalos raises his head, finally, from the scroll he has been writing, and looks at the group assembled.
Tyrsun seems to pay little attention to other people. From time to time he recognizes a higher ranking noble by giving a brief nod of his head, but otherwise he remains seated.
Marsalos reaches into the pool, and sprinkles water over the assembled people, performing a blessing. Underneath Zaridos' body, and under the bodies of the six small children, are pyres assembled.
Aziza glances to Attis wordlessly, looking to him and then motioning to her otherside. Otherwisxe looking to Quenna and squeezing her arm lightly before looking to the otherrs.
Attis shifts to Aziza's otherside, his eyes tracking Marsalos's movements.
Marsalos says "I would say well-come to the temple, but this is not a time for such sentiments. This is a time of mourning and sadness." He looks at the crowd and says, "Leave your messengers outside." He continues, "Zin has called us today to assist in sending not one, but seven souls on to Zin. There will be seven funerals today. We shall begin with Zaridos." *Firan*
Cataryna listens in to her brother's murmuring and scans the room.
Quenna lifts her gaze toward Marsalos, her face taking on a sullen look. She lays her head against Aziza's shoulder, her hand squeezing her's gently.
Aziza leans over to whisper to Attis, but doesnt lean too far as she ends up with quenna's head on her shoulder. Resrting her cheek there while glancing to Attis.
Aeryk does call in and out two messengers prior to the seeming official beginning of the ceremony. They do not appear to be casual, from his expression. Now he turns his attention forward, unfolding the scrap of scroll.
Marsalos says "Initiate Nestra will say the first words. Those who have a desire to speak after her, should join a mourning line, and I shall call you forth, one at a time. After this, I shall speak, and light the pyre." *Firan*
Tyrsun looks up at Marsalos. "You are not serious, Lord Marsalos, to let a /democrat/ speak as first eulogist at my brother-in-laws funeral." he notes with a firm voice, shooting Nestra a glance that isn't all bleak anymore. There is a warning in his eyes for her. *Firan*
Marsalos steps aside from the altar, and then the Lord High Priest Marsalos Iberik of Zin, supporter and symbol of nobility, lets the notorious democratic rebel take the space behind the Altar at a ceremony for a Prince of the Elianiks.
Marsalos says "Be quiet or leave, Tyrsun." *Firan*
Zeynus lifts his head as Lord Marsalos, speaks and his eyes fell to the seven forms and thinks of his own children. He remains standing near the rear, keeping silent.
Aziza blinks at something Attis tells her and a tear slides down her cheek. Then she glances over towards where Tyrsun is.
Cersei turns toward her other uncle's voice. "Let whoever wishes to speak about my father, do so. If you want to lay curses at the feet of people who are here, almost no one would get to say a fecking word. There are people here who marched with the Gold Dragons to attempt to kill my father. Mes Nestra did far less. Let her speak and hold your tongues." *Firan*
Attis gasps somewhat quietly.
Aristedes can't help but grin just a touch.
Quenna looks toward Marsalos, her body tenses for a moment, though she turns her gaze toward Tyrsun when Cersei speaks, watching and waiting.
Nestra ignores Tyrsun's warning as she strides towards the pool. Her initiate's robes are crisp and cleanly pressed, her face solemn. She lifts her chin and begins speaking.
"It is /Lord/ Tyrsun for you, Lord Marsalos and while you may be a priest of this pagan temple, you should know better than this." Tyrsun notes, quite angry by now. It is at Cersei's voice though that he quietens down, giving a small nod to his niece. The expression his dark eyes bear for Marsalos though show that this topic is not settled.
Jordyn narrows her eyes slightly, but at whom, even she's not certain. She clenches one hand into a tight fist, the other resting on her stomach. She shakes her head a little and shifts her weight slightly.
Nestra announces, "Zaridos was an adventurer.
Often, as Zin asks of his clergy and followers, Zaridos would travel off the beaten path, blazing a new one of his own. Across land and sea - mostly sea - Zaridos traveled to places remote, ever questing, ever seeking.
His journeys were vast and lengthy; Zaridos was never one to remain too long in a single place. And yet, he always returned to his people, the Eagles, and never abandoned them in their time of great need.
In worshiping Zin, we are taught to ride the waves of change. Zaridos was a man ready and willing to do this. When his brethren, the Eagles, first voiced their displeasure and unrest and called for democracy, Zaridos was the one who answered the call with compromise. As a devout Zinian, he recognized the turning tide and sought not to escape the surging waves, but to greet them with his feet firm in the sand. He listened to his people, and if he had been given the power by the Republic as Eagle Protector to affect the change he knew was inevitable, he may well be alive today.
Things have certainly changed since then, and many would argue - perhaps rightly so - that much of these changes are the fault of the man who is to be sent into to the ocean of stars today. But I ask you, as a Zinian and an Eagle, to recognize a man who embraced the tenets of his god and the ideals of his clan. Zin teaches us that the journey we take is far more important than our destination, and I implore you to remember this as you reflect upon the man and his children who are here laid to rest today.
May Zin bless you with the courage to remember the good deeds of this adventurer." The crowd cheers the news!
Akiva finds a spot that's a bit sheltered by a column and parks her very pregnant self next to it, where there's a bit of shelter and support.
Rayna slips into the temple, leaving her guards behind. The former Elianik Lady's Maid seeks out someone in particular and starts to head in Cersei's direction.
Aeryk wades from the shallows and so-dripping steps forward and perhaps unexpectedly - talks quite a bit. "The cause of Zaridos's downfall, the downfall of the Elianiks . . . was simple. He was a man. While the people narrowly tolerate IstaNydiam killing IstaNydiam because that is what is expected of Cockatrice royal families, they cannot brook Elianik killing Elianik. Because they have always expected more of Elianiks.
"Elianos was the uniter. The Elianiks were meant to unite, not display their rages, their ambitions, their hatreds and fears and loves with such divisive power. My cousin was not a politician. He was a wild, impulsive man of Zin, mad in that adventure-mad way. I believe he really thought Prince Argin meant to do awful things to his family, that killing him was a matter of protecting them, that making sure Prince Argin never had power was protecting the Republic. That it was better for a future to have no Republic than Argin as Ranivor.
"It was rash and destructive and so many families have paid in blood for Zaridos's choice. But so has he. So have his children. If Zaridos meant to protect these innocents . . ."
Aeryk breaks off, looking over the pyres. "Motive. Intent. I suppose it does not matter. My cousin was a bold man in many ways. In a different life, with a different role, he might have been a hero. But my cousin was not an ideal. The time of the Heroes is past. That we have hated him and killed him, that we have made corpses of his wife and children, this is . . . beyond justice. It is the seed of Drik's resentment in our hearts. It was the self-loathing acknowledgement that the Elianiks could not save us. They were just men, like we were. What shadows we have become.
"Zaridos. Cousin. May the next life afford you atonement, and perhaps some measure of peace." And he withdraws. *Firan*
Corrina makes her way into the temple just in time to hear the speeches start and ducks her hea slightly to move to a seat once she spots Teonia, nodding a soft greeting and giving a concerned glance toward Cersei.
Marsalos remains, for the most part, silent. He nods to Aeryk's words.
There are certain things that are special between a father and a daughter. It was never any secret how much Cersei idolized hers. As such, the words she offers aren't the ones her heart already spoke to Zaridos in the days he lay dying, but short and rather simple. "I miss you every day, daddy, and I will forever. You were the best father my whole life and no one will ever, ever replace you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect the others, like I promised I would. I'm really, really sorry about that." There's a small sniff before she lifts her chin. "I love you and hope you come back soon. Keep Zephyr out of trouble when he joins you. He never much listened to me anyhow." She then returns to her place between Daranos and Aristedes, chin still held a touch high.
Rislan takes a moment to manfully rub at his eyes.
Thaddia releases Nalene as she goes to join those who would speak. She finally allows herself to sink and sit, listening.
Cataryna quietly sobs on her brother's arm
Daranos says fairly little, really, when he speaks. He glances toward the pyres built, half-brother, nieces and nephews. He then clears his throat, and says, "Much will be said of Zaridos' life. Much will be said of his death. I will make my words brief, then:
"Grandson of Zarid, priest of Zin, son of the Eagles and a prince of the Republic. He embodied each of these to the fullest: he never backed down from an adventure, or from a fight. He was not a restful person to know, but he served his clan and the Firan people with body and with blood. Let him be remembered for his service. Let him be remembered for all that he laid down in the name of the Firan people, and of the Eagle clan.
"Let this be an end." Is his voice thick? Maybe it is. He clears his throat, and glances down. "For we have had a surfeit of grief."
Marsalos's face is stoic, blank. He nods in turn to Cersei, and Daranos, listening carefully to their words.
Tyrsun steps in front of the funeral pyre to have a last look at the form of Zaridos and the children resting there. Dressed in Bear armor, without a single trace of navy on it, he raises his firm voice to address the dead for a last time. "Zaridos, we were comrades-in-arms. If anyone understood the joy of battle, it must have been you. Your bravado, your daring, your ability to take just the right risks were an inspiration that I will take with me in the times to come. When my sword sings on the battlefield, it will carry a hymn we have wrought when we took the battleship and sailed it all the way back home. We may condemn your choices. History will look upon you and see the destruction you wrought. But I will be one to remind them of times before - and see to it that people will find that they can only hope to once emulate your acts of heroism." He pauses a moment, his so bleak expression shifting, trembling as if finally allowing to show grief. Firmly he speaks on: "And I promise to look after your daughter - to make sure she is safe and prosperous. May God return your soul to us soon." *Firan*
Rayna whispers something to Cersei and sinks down onto a pew to listen to the other, depressing accounts of memories of Zaridos. She was raised in an Unotian family, so most of it doesn't faze her. Most of it.
Olivander ruffles Cataryna's hair, keeping that stoic face Priests of Unot are known for when it comes to funerals. They deal with the dead, and deliver them their last rites, after all.
Marsalos calls Jordyn to come forward.
Jordyn steps forward, taking a deep breath and holding her head high. She speaks to her betters, but mostly, she speaks to the fallen. "I wasn't fast enough." Her words come out slowly, carefully, full of grief and accent, with the occasional Bonduin word mistakenly slipped in. "I wasn't fast enough to stop them from coming into our home. I wasn't fast enough to save them." She lifts her chin slightly, her voice waivering, but she continues on strong. "My life belongs to the family of the Wonderous Scion of --- Great God Zin, and with my life or death, I serve them. I will be fast enough now." She shakes her head. "Great Prince was set apart.. he... he..." She pauses, searching for the words. "He inspired. He gave life to the ------ adventure and a soul like none other." She nods once, before leaning down to murmur quiet words to Zaridos, a smile on her lips. "Take these words with you to the stars. Ulashanai shall turn his face from this city tonight, to find no one worthy of the Land of Never. Great ------ and his children will burn brighter than any stars that have come before." She bows, awkwardly, as best as her very pregnant self can manage. "Thank you, great Lord and Ladies, for letting this one speak here today." She turns to Daranos, to Cersei. "My life is yours, as it is Glorious Honor Ania. Children of Zin and Beloved off his Watery Hosts. I am yours, in life and death." And with that, she moves back to stand near the entrance of the temple, trembling, about to lose it, tears falling from her eyes. *Firan*
Marsalos exhales at the words of Jordyn. He is a priest of Zin, not an Unotian, and the stoicism here is hard for him to bear, but he is holding up.
Harvinia closes her eyes for a minute as if in prayer.
Quenna listens to the words spoken, her grip a bit firmer upon Aziza's arm, though she relaxes it after a moment, not to cause Aziza pain, she lays her head against her shoulder.
While one of a handful of the Elianiks 'worst princess' candidates, perhaps, Cersei manages some sliver of that regal baring she railed against so much only a year (or even months) ago. To Jordyn she gives a respectful dip of her head in thanks for the woman's exceptional offer.
Nalene steps forward, voice low but somewhat fierce as she speaks, looking directly at the forms of the fallen. Then she turns and addresses the mourners "Lest any wish to speak later that there was confusion or I misrepresented, yes, I was one of those who stood with the Gold Dragons against Zaridos. But it was not with hatred of my cousin in my heart, or a wish for vengeance. I simply felt that an end had to be put to this division that was tearing us apart. There are no words for the sorrow of the loss of my little cousins, no words to express the sympathy I feel for Lady Cersei who remains. Let us then, all of us, whatever side we were on in this conflict, join together in our prayers that all of these spirits of our family, our loved ones, be joined once more in Unot's embrace among the stars. Let there be an end to this thing which has divided us. Let our sorrow bring us together and eventually be replaced by love." She turns to Cersei and says to her, personally, "Cousin, my prayers have been, are, and always shall be with you. May all of the promise of your family grow and flourish with you. May you find all the peace and joy that was denied them." And then, hastily, she steps away and back to join the rest of her family. *Firan*
Aziza rests her cheek atop Quenna's head when she again puts her head on aziza's shoulder. Just listening solemnly.
Marsalos watches his niece speak and holds his breath. when she speaks words of reconciliation, however, he nods.
Zeynus even though he and Lord Marsalos had disagreements in the past, he couldn't imagine what it must be for him to be standing up there now. Felt for the family of this family that now laid still. Children who's faces should be smiing and laughing but now frozen in time.
Quenna is just that small even sitting down, she speaks softly to Aziza, her eyes upon Nalene as she speaks, though her eyes follow the once princess, bowing her head toward the woman. She turns to speak once more to Aziza.
Aziza's arm squeezes Quenna's...
Cersei takes hold of Aristedes' hand for apparent support and watches the speakers in turn. There are a few she simply looks through; past their words and instead to the resting form of her father and siblings.
There is a bit of a delay as Lucas rises from the edge of the pool where the other Elianiks have gathered, and his steps toward the pyre are slow, weighted almost. Briefly, he looks down, and there is hesitation as if he is not quite sure of the words he will use.
"Zaridos was many things in his life, and to me. He was an adventurer, a warrior, and a father. He was my friend, and he was my brother's killer." Again, there is an empty moment, full of thought, a moment in which it seems his speech could travel many paths, and he himself seems uncertain of which is best. "As young Lady Cersei says, there are people among this gathering who marched with the Gold Dragons against Prince Zaridos. I was among them." With the admission, another pause. "But my vengeance died there, just as the Republic we all loved so much died on the night of their duel. What transpired between them was mad folley, and they have each paid with their lives. For our own part in it, we have paid with the death of our beloved Republic. And yet between us all..." His eyes go aside to the younger bodies, "... Prince Zaridos has paid far too dearly." Here, he draws a breath.
"Remembering wise words spoken by another in counsel to me, I spend this day thinking back on the best parts of his life, the parts I was lucky enough and far too glad to share, parts I will remember fondly despite all that has happened. Prince Zaridos was the sort of man that any would envy as a friend, that any man would wish as a companion in drink, in brawl, in battle. His reckless spirit was an inspirational thing, and we are all less for having lost it."
With that, he turns briefly to the pyre itself, murmuring a brief, more private goodbye, before turning and walking back to join his remaining family.
Marsalos steps up to the altar with a nod to Lucas.
Marsalos gives a sermon on 'Mercy'
Zaridos Elianik was a Prince, a General, a Priest, a Viceroy...and a man. A mortal like the rest of us, he had pimples as a child that he hated, he had a mother that loved him and died a hero and a father who barely had the chance to know him.
Throughout my life I have known Zaridos personally. He was an adventurer, as Nestra said, always willing to take risks. He had the blood of Elianos and Sabine in his veins; of Solgarik and Zeysani; and through Zeysani of Zin himself.
He was my friend.
He was a priest of Zin, an adventurer, a rogue. His life was filled with good and bad, as are most of ours. Because of his lineage, great things were expected of him, and great things he delivered. Many are the tales of heroism he undertook, the sacrifices he made for the Republic.
At the end of his life, he did something horrific. Who is to say why he did it? It seemed petty, did it not? An aberration. Not at all like the man we knew.
But, as with most villains of his caliber, none see the good because it is so greatly overshadowed by his last act. He murdered Argin. He did not duel him to the death, but murdered him. When Argin had thrown his blade down, Zaridos pressed his attack, and once it was over, despite the audience's cries, he slew him.
I do not recall Zaridos being the sort of man who would do such a thing, but perhaps the mobs were right and he was a tainted and twisted man whose evil came out at the end. Perhaps it was the 'taint of the twins'.
However, perhaps, just perhaps, is also possible that this was a lesson from the Gods and he the vehicle chosen to bring it to us. For it was in the afterbirth of this murder, the demonic afterbirth of rage and horror that overtook the Firan people in paroxysms of violence, that we were reminded of the God's Law about Drik, and our failure to fulfill it.
Do I claim that Zaridos was controlled by Drik? No, not even at the end, for that would be absolving him of his crime, which is not for me or any other mortal to do. Do I mean to absolve him by saying he was not able to stop himself? I do not, for I believe that any man or woman may fight off the call Drik's hatred. Most do, but some fail in a moment of weakness. Perhaps this was his moment of weakness.
No...it is merely that I pray and hope that the man who did this is not truly or entirely the criminal that many make him out to be, that this was a lesson, in part, that we had to learn, and that the Gods see fit to grant him some form of mercy.
My friend goes to Unot surrounded by the souls of his children. This should be punishment enough for any crimes real or imagined he committed. May Unot have mercy on his soul, for surely, we did not.
Let us pray.
Aristedes listens to the sermon and his expression as it goes on gets more and more horrified. He looks down at Cersei beside him and gives her hand a pat.
Likewise, once Lucas has moved back from his own speech, he turns to listen to Marsalos, and... frowns.
Marsalos performs the last funeral rites for Corpse of Zaridos, igniting the body. Flames engulf the remains, glowing embers floating skyward and into the heavens.
Tyrsun does not seem to join the prayer in this temple. Instead he just watches the proceedings from his spot at the alcoves. Withdrawn into his own bleak, disapproving expression that does not change anymore.
Aristedes doesn't join in the prayer either. He certainly has a disapproving look directed at Marsalos though. He shakes his head and whispers to Cersei. Perhaps the hand patting isn't quite enough.
Daranos squeezes Cersei's shoulder with jaw tight, his expression cool and tensely controlled as the pyre lights.
Ista Aldriks don't cry in public. This is why Akiva is merely experiencing an ocular saline discharge. She wipes at her eyes with a scrap of linen, and defiantly does not sniffle.
Aeryk folds his arms, giving Marsalos a veeeery long look during that sermon. He unfolds his arms, however, as the pyre lights, and places his hand on his chest.
Like Tyrsun, Cersei refrains from praying in this particular Temple. The words for her father complete, Cersei has a deep frown on her lips after Marsalos' sermon for her father. There are some murmured words between herself and the two young men she trusts to take comfort with.
Aziza says, "head bows faintly, keeping her eyes off the front of the room as the children are"
Quenna bows her head in prayer and sighs softly, keeping her head against Aziza's shoulder.
Jordyn watches the flames, intently, barely blinking as the fire blinds her, the tears flow silently from her shadowed corner.
Marsalos blinks as he looks over the crowd, and the children. He starts, in a choked voice, "I would..." and then, coughing a moment, a tear running down his cheek, he drinks a sip of water. "I would at this time like to invite any present who wish to say their goodbyes to Dasani, Zander, Saren, Elios, Adidas, or Marina to come forth. There will be no line nor are words expected." *Firan*
Rislan squints his eyes and seems to be swallowing heavily.
Aristedes disses Marsalos because 'Worst eulogy ever.'!
Rayna's dark eyes shift to the group of dead children, but they do not linger long. The Lady's Maid fingers a charm on her necklace idly, trying her best to stay proper and keep her decorum.
Attis seems more emotional or disturbed by the various eulogies than by the fallen prince's body or those of his children.
Cersei gives a small choke of sound before releasing Aristedes' hand. She makes her way up to the smaller pyres holding her siblings and begins to 'visit' with each. Whispers are offered into their ears before she kisses each one on the forehead. There might be words of advice or warnings to behave; apologies for childhood fights that went too far or thanks for special moments they shared. The words will forever remain between the children of Zaridos. The final of the good-byes is given to Marina, the baby of the family who was meant to be the last to leave this world. Instead, it is the eldest of Zaridos and Laytania's children that bid her good-bye. "Be good beautiful girl. You are mother's favorite, so find her and help her when she comes next," is murmured before she squeezes the little hand gently and steps away again. *Firan*
Nestra has remained in one place since her words on Zaridos, quietly observing. Now she is lost watching the flames of the former prince's pyre as others speak their goodbyes to his children.
Aeryk watches Cersei with a touch of that flatness, that self-walling. His head is half-canted.
Nalene looks like she cannot bear to watch this, and yet she will not turn her face away from the expression of purest pain, most extreme loss. Only after the last goodbyes are said does she lower her head once more, hands clasped.
Zeynus steps forward to bid his own good byes to the prince's children, war was hell, especially on the young and part of the future, laid before him. The Lord Captain closes his eyes for a moment to say a pray for each of the children. And then to the prince.
Jordyn starts to sob, silently, but uncontrollably as Cersei says goodbye to her siblings. She leans against the wall heavily, covering her face with her hands. She speaks in quiet Bonduin, her words lost in her throat, muffled by her hands.
Thaddia turns her face from the brightness of the fire, toward the cool air off Zin's pool.
Marsalos clears his throat as he prepares to speak. Throughout it all, his hands grip the podium very tightly for support.
Daranos glances away when Cersei moves forward, perhaps to grant her some illusion of privacy -- perhaps to maintain his reserve. His eyes close, attention turned inward.
Marsalos says "Laytania and Zaridos had not only many children of their own, but also wards they took in, Eagle wards, at Clan Leader Ania's behest. Innocent children, children who had nothing to do with the Elianik bloodline, innocents caught in the bloodlust whose death weighs heavily on the soul.
SAREN, a thirteen-year-old boy, who, on the cusp of his ceremony, was taken from us, his skull shattered. I am told that had he lived, he might have been a great architect. We could have used his talents to rebuild the Amphitheatre, which is in ruins. But this we may never know.
ELIOS, a ten year old child, polite and sad-eyed. Solitary and thoughtful, though quick to anger, he was very protective of the things that were his. Perhaps one day, he would have been a protector of the Republic, or of a Church, or of a Clan. But this we may never know.
And then there were their natural children. The children that Laytania bore Zaridos, the children that they loved.
ADIDAS, an eight-year-old. Impish grin, violet eyes, charming and cavalier. He was known for his roguish nature...and his taste for puns. The laughter he would have brought to the world is no longer with us. He cried out as the mob attacked his sister, and a sword pierced his lungs. He could have lightened a mood, perhaps saved our Clans from infighting with a golden tongue and diplomatic words. But this we may never know.
DASANI, Nine years old. She did not speak very much--she sang, oh did she sing, often and constantly. She was silenced by one man with a blade. Her lyrical voice may have become great, were she still with us, and perhaps she would have sung the next greatest song. But this we may never know.
ZANDER, Two years old, and already known for his scowling temper and ability to yell louder than anyone else's. His voice was removed by, it is said, a priest. It could be that he would have been the next General of the Armies, given his demeanor, and led the Firan people to great victory. But this we may never know.
Pray with me, then, to Zin and to Unot, that they may be brought to the Heavens safely.
The worst violations, perhaps, are those whose bodies were never retrieved.
ZEPHYR, Zephyr stood to defend his family with a wooden sword, calling on Zin to defend them. Yet Zin did not answer. And the mob took him, as he was trying to lead them away from the other children. Perhaps his bravery would have made him the next Nydiam, the next Donos. But this, we *SHALL* never know.
LAITON AND ZARIDON, Lost, perhaps, in the large number of children that the gods saw fit to bless Zaridos and Laytania with, these two boys leave behind few recollections in the minds of those who watched such children. What were they like? What could they have become? But this, We *SHALL* never know.
Pray with me to Eesha, then, that these children are brought back as Teffies, that their innocent spirits are taken by the Goddess of Love and shown the love that they did not have at the moment of their death.
And then there was the last.
MARINA, A newborn baby. What could she have become? Perhaps there is only one word for it: Hope. But along with her tiny body, hope itself died. The Republic died. The dreams of Elianos died. Hope, itself, died.
Will hope return? This, we may never know. Let us pray that it does." *Firan*
Tyrsun continues to watch quietly, his eyes affixed on his niece as she speaks her last words to her siblings. His lips clenched together tighly much of his usual ease has drained from his body, with every minute passing appearing to make him even more tense. The next eulogy doesn#t help this at all.
The mention of soul death is where Olivander really grinds his teeth. Expression hardens, and for a moment it seems that the Ista Aldrik is filled with long bottled-up rage both in mannerism and words. It takes a moment to fight back this feeling, though a keen ear might hear the words, 'Justice' and 'Funeral' being spat out.
Rayna stares at Marsalos when he has to recount everything that happened. She founds in distaste and shakes her head. ""ow unnecessary."" *Firan*
Marsalos is freely crying as he finishes this eulogy. His voice resounds as best he can make it resound, but he is speaking of the death of children, his own child's ashes so newly sent to Unot in the aftermath of the burning of the Iberik mansion, and tears run down his face as he does his duty.
Aziza looks as she sits there like she is goin to be ill.
Lucas adds a bit of his own to the Marsalos-glaring that seems to be all the rage in the Temple today. With a reassuring hand on Nalene's shoulder, he is stoic through the rather... grim and lengthy recitation of all that happened, although like Olivander, there is a break to that facade where a bit of anger shows through.
Zeynus steps to Lord Marsalos though loss for words but as he passes he puts his hand on the man's shoulder.
Nalene covers her mouth as if it requires physical effort to remain still.
There are tears on the brims of Cersei's eyes, but she will not close them or blink said tears away if she can help it. Her gaze is focused on the pyres and her face is schooled now that the quiet farewells have been made. Her arms are loosely crossed on her chest and she seems intent on seeing each fire blaze and then fade away. She'll not weep now. Perhaps not until her family is truly gone, perhaps not at all.
Marsalos looks to Zaynus, thankfully, but he grabs the torch and then begins to perform his duty. Marsalos performs the last funeral rites for [all of the children]
Marsalos lingers, before the baby. The heat is incredibly intense even in the cold Temple of Zin. He looks at the small features, perhaps seeing his own daughter's in them...but then he finishes. Marsalos performs the last funeral rites for Corpse of Baby Marina, igniting the body. Flames engulf the remains, glowing embers floating skyward and into the heavens.
Releasing a slow and slightly unsteady breath as he looks across the small pyres, from the nearly adult to the teeny tiny, Daranos curls his fist at his side. When he relaxes his hand, he lifts his chin. His expression is hard and cold as iron as the last fires light.
Thaddia finally, when the last torch with set to the pyres, allows herself to move again, swaying out of place by the rim of the pull and away from the knot of her family to leave, and the scent of funerary smoke fills the area. It is done.
Jerrom's tears fill his eyes and regardless of your other feelings, you feel sympathy if only for a time.
Harvinia exhales slowly from her quiet corner, pale eyes watching the fire in the water lord's temple. The nanny watches stoicly, her fingers moving over her own infant daughter's back. Slowly her feet lower to rest against the ground and Harvinia stands to watch the little bodies burn.
Aeryk has refolded his arms. His expression is schooled completely flat now.
Jerrom sheds a tear and exits the Temple
Jordyn lifts her eyes only when the fires start to burn again. She forces herself to watch, to not look away until the last embers die down. Her tears do not stop, but she takes in the sight of her failure.
Marsalos is beginning to perform Funeral for Zaridos and hs Children in honour of his patron deity, Zin. Marsalos completes a ceremony in honour of Zin
Corrina has been the most silent one has possibly ever seen her at present as the bodies of her friend Laytania's children go up in flames, her bright eyes lingering over each of the children as they burn. Once it hits the youngest Marina, the one named for her and her departed Mateo, her hand goes to close over her falcon-winged necklace, her eyes dipping with a harsh breath, closing in a soft word of prayer.
Cersei, for perhaps obvious reasons, can not truly join in the group of worshippers. Instead, she glances up at Daranos and gives a small nod before turning back to regard those gathered in the Temple. Carefully.
Rayna stays somewhere by Cersei, though not too close. But still, when everyone else is praying, she does not pray either. Instead, she lowers her eyes and twists her Zutivian ring.
Tyrsun rises as soon as the smoke rises from the last pyre. There is a flicker of hesitation passing through his expression, before he steps over to his niece, whispering brief words to her before turning and striding out.
Marsalos sighs as the smoke begins to waft out of the Temple. His tears have dried with the heat. He looks about and says, "If there are any who wish to stay and speak, Priest Deiphobus and myself are available to you. I would ask those who follow Zutiv to go to the True Temple, and add their prayers to ours for these departed. I have done my best here in memory of my friend, though my words seem to have struck a harsher chord than I intended, for which I apologize." *Firan*
Rayna stares at Marsalos and still shakes her head some. She whispers some comforting words to poor Cersei, who had to relieve the words and the moment, then prepares to leave, it seems.
Rislan breathes a ragged sigh as the fires start to burn down, looking spent and weary.
Cersei manages one of those faint and brief smiles of thanks to Sister Rayna. There's a nod to the woman's murmured words in apparent agreement. "Thank you for being here for me," is said as well. *Firan*
Riosan does not linger in the temple long after the funeral has finished; having stood in the back of the temple through the duration, quietly, it is not far for him to find the exit.
Harvinia draws in another deep breath and waits until the fires are out before she moves over towards the gathered former Elianiks, and the one who retains the name. "Lord Elianik," she says quietly, to the blind ex prince. *Firan*
"You are welcome, My Lady. I will wait for you there...and if I'm not, just send me a message and you know I will come." Rayna curtsies for the former Elianik, then turns to do so for the others she used to serve.
Yep, Deiphobus is here, although the rather old Zinian Priest hasn't had much to do or say about any of it. He's watched, and helpd with the ceremony as directed, and otherwise has kept his mouth shut. So many noble-folk, and even his High Priest is having a rough time. Tough crowd! When Marsalos points him out, he gives his boss an encouraging look, an then does speak up, "Aye if anyone has anything they'd like to discuss in private, or needs someone to speak to, or just wants to stay and share a story about the Prince or that sort of thing, we'll be here a while."
Elene rises from her seat and quietly makes her way out of the temple as the flames begin to die down.
Rislan rises. "Harvinia," he says quietly. "How are you holding up?" *Firan*
Aeryk exhales deep and makes his departure.
Cataryna is left speechless sobbing on her brother's arm. She looks up to Olivander and murmurs softly "I think it would be a good time to leave, Lord Brother." *Firan*
Nestra watches Rislan for a few long moments before moving to assist the rest of the clergy with their duties.
Harvinia shifts Mia in her arms, "I don't think I have a particular choice to be anything but 'alright'. Yes? But I was thinking that in light of all this a drink certainly is in order. What do you say?" *Firan*
Olivander nods to Cataryna, offering a nod to those present. 'Lead us out. I feel the need to break something." Of course, some meses get spared looks. He's not checking them out in a /funeral/ is he? *Firan*
Aziza lets go of Quenna's arm after her eyes locke don the pyre with the burning children on it. "I have to go..." Turning to head out quickly, fingers at her lips and her other arm wraped around her middle. *Firan*
After everything is done with, Lucas lingers with the remnants of his family, although even they seem to be filtering out. He gives Nalene's hand a squeeze, and rises again, looking around. He thought he'd seen Akiva at some point or another, and picks her out after a bit, leading Nalene that way. "We should probably go as well."
Cataryna nods and slips out of the temple
Rislan nods slowly. "I couldn't agree more," he says, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm in order to follow her. He nods to his cousins, mutely, before departing. *Firan*
Daranos draws a hand across his brow, along the side of his face, and along his jaw. Rather than ease his tension, it just seems to mark it. Tense. Big T. He looks back over those lingering from his place between flames and pool.
Nalene seems unwilling or unable to move just yet, staring straight ahead at the ashes.
Corrina finally rises from her seat, but as she starts to leave, she spots Harvinia and Rislan and offers them a passing nod. Or at least, the sighted one. "Nia, Lord Rislan." *Firan*
Marsalos approaches Lucas, Cersei, and Rislan. He bows deeply. "You have my deepest regrets and strongest condolences." *Firan*
"Lady Corrina," Rislan says respectfully as he recognizes the voice.
Attis exhales slowly and then rubs his tanned face and pushes some strands of hair back behind one of his ears. "I'm sorry to hear that, Priestess. Do you need any help back to your home or Lady Eesha's?" *Firan* Attis says to Aziza.
Harvinia nods to Corrina politely as she makes to leave, "My Lady." *Firan*
Rislan nods in Marsalos's direction. "Thank you," he says softly. *Firan*
Cersei, still at Lord Daranos' side, dips her head politely to Marsalos. "Thank you, my Lord. Daddy always talked about you and your guys friendship." That offered politely, she looks back up to Daranos. "I think I'm going to go home or go kill stuff in the forest. I haven't decided yet. I'll come visit you and Aunt Ania soon, too. Just...not tonight, y'know?" *Firan*
Corrina makes a point to pause a moment, speaking quietly. "If there is anything either of you need, send me a messenger. Rislan, I am sorry to say it right now.. but welcome to the clan." *Firan*
Harvinia then nods and starts to leave but pauses to regard Marsalos, "Lord Father, when you have some time in the coming days, I would like to speak to you." She resumes her path to the door, peering out at the storm. "Fitting. Don't you think Lord Elianik?" *Firan*
Marsalos looks to Harvinia and says, "As you wish, Mes." *Firan*
"I think that /I/ am going to go and drink," Daranos says with a certain amount of conviction. He pats down his things. Did he bring his flask? He better have brought his flask. "You're always welcome, Cersei," he adds, a little more seriously, with his voice lowered and his gaze turned down toward her. "When you wish to visit." He reaches for her shoulder again to give it a brief squeeze. Brief.
Nalene finally rises, having inclined her head to Marsalos, and says quietly to Cersei, "I know often I wish to be by myself while killing things in the woods, but if you wish company, cousin, I would go with you." *Firan*
Lucas returns a short nod to Marsalos when he offers his condolences. Although he does have a bit of a nitpick, it seems: "I am still waiting to hear someone say aloud that there must be proper justice for the children. Regardless of everything one may cast at the Elianiks, they were innocents - and some of them not even of our family. Their murders were totally unlike the fate that befell my brother, in no way of their own making." *Firan*
Rislan nods. "There is nothing to be sorry for, Lady Corrina. I'm grateful for the chance to join the Ticanee," he says, "-especially- in these dark times." He sighs, feeling the storm in the air as Harvinia refers to it. "Fitting indeed," he says sadly. *Firan*
Jordyn slowly stands and turns, slipping her way out.
"Thank you, Lord Daranos," Cersei replies and gives another quick nod. "For a lot of stuff. I'll be careful if I go killing," is added since, really, she probably should tell her family when she's heading off to do something like that. Turning a cool regard to Nalene, her head shakes. "No thank you. I really think I want to be alone."
