A Song of Mourning [PK]

[bickando 3967]

Long John 'Shortsword' Potte, a good Canonist who was also taken too soon, welcomes his benefactor, his savior, and his best friend into the Seven Skies as a fellow saint.

[Spoopy_Duck 3217]

The wind would rustle the great pines overhead, the prince was restless. Even across the world from his home in Numenost, he could not escape the tidings of his cousin's death. 

 

Arnuzôr remembered his first conversation with his cousin, asking her about her aspirations for what she wanted to do with her life. She had no true clue but ideas, to follow in his own siblings in being a diplomat, in not wanting to be a knight. He told her that she would not have to fight if she did not want to, that he and many others would be there to protect her from any harm. Yet, he was not there when harm had come to her, and the unknown would continue to haunt him on if there was anything he could have done. 

He would also remember teaching her about plants and flowers, the limited knowledge the prince held. Of her and him making a gift for an injured Azruphel to deliver to her. He remembered her coming to him admitting when she did things she was not supposed to, of sneaking off out the gates to meet friends from other cities. Yet he never betrayed her trust by telling another soul, secrets that would now lie only with him to his grave. 

Before his trek up the accursed mountain, she had shown him a pet chicken she had that she wished to train with. That was the last time Arnuzôr truly spoke with her, when he came back she had run away with her brother. Only to eventually return in constant distress over the whereabouts of her lost kin. He promised her that he would be found, and that all would be well, yet that would end up being a lie as her brothers fate was discovered by his father. To him that felt like the last time they truly had confided in one another.

 

Arnuzôr did not know his other cousin that well, Bêlzagar and him had never truly spoken. The loss was not the hardest on him in that regard though the first death of a family member still struck. Now both of them were gone, and where was he? Estranged in some forest chasing ghosts that he had no hope to understand, away from his own family having no idea how they were going through it all. His home at war, his cousin dead, the prince's legs seemed to carry him around the frozen forest for hours. 

 

He finally came across it, at the edge of the frozen tundra where life finally returned to the ground, and he started to pick. An assortment of colors, whites, reds, greens. A collection of twigs as well before the assembly began. It was crude, certainly something he had not done in years but he had made it, a small crown of flowers and pine. He made his way back into the tundra before he found a tree to lay it against. A knife would carve into the wood above it just leaving a single letter "N".

 

He stood there for perhaps minutes, to him it felt like an hour staring at the makeshift grave before he finally broke, "I'm so sorry Nori." The sentence would repeat a few times, barely a mumble against the winds above as the tears finally came. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I don't know if it would make anything different but I won't ever know." and at that he fell silent. 

The wind continued to howl.

 

[beetle 3315]

The cabin’s door was softly knocked, a letter slipped through the opening underneath. It caught the attention of the Princess, stopping her current routine - why did the carrier leave without a word? Sudden, yet faint, Eriantiel felt fear. Something had happened. She rushed over to obtain the letter, ripping its seal, reading it over. Again and again.

 

Eriantiel was with her niece only a saint's day ago, attempting to be of aid. To comfort her, to remind Nóruiel of her bravery and determination - in hopes of saving her from any harm of the war, or perhaps the King who haunted them. The Princess had given her options: to run, to hide, a new life with a new face. But it was never a choice of death. 

 

Her family had failed her, her brothers, her father - she had failed Nóruiel.

 

But Eriantiel realized something, there was no curse amongst the two, the curse was within someone else. Someone of true evil and cruelness - the false shepherd. The one who had thrown her out; he had done the same with Nóruiel. 

 

The blood was on his hands.

The Princess Royal grabbed her cloak and her father’s blade.

She knew what to do.

[Maiyun 362]

It had not been so late in the day for worry to find Ardirnien. No, worry came after the sun had fallen from the sky and the moon had risen in place, when all those nearest to her had gone to bed. To be so worried this early in the day was a rarity, brought about by the unnerving buzz of the servantry. It left her curious, curious enough that at least she made the excuse of bringing down her own teatray when she had finished with it, the delicate porcelain clattering against the brightly painted thin metal. 

In her heart she was certainly aware that eavesdropping was not a polite manner to maintain. And after all, the servantry deserved to be able to gossip freely without fear of their employers listening in. But it did have her still lingering near the doorway of the kitchen, right as one of the scullery maids clapped her hands to her mouth in horror.

 

"They found her where?"

 

The teatray clatters to the ground in a display of noise, colorful, and flying shards of pottery stained with the remnants of honey-lemon tea with a slice of candied orange. A fragrant, aromatic brew that was locally sourced.

The gossiping maids rushed out in a panic through the doorway then to find Ardirnien standing at the center of the disaster, her hands shaking. Soft, silken slippers that were certainly now ruined with shards of ceramic that were scattered around her like starlight.

Of the five cups there, only three remained. 

[Rig 17580]

Valerius Montalt prays for the young woman's soul.

[discojazz 308]

Spoiler

 

 

When she heard the news, Tianrui Limei felt a bittersweet feeling overcome her. She said a prayer to the ancestors, believing the kindhearted queen could rest peacefully with those she loved. What a cruel, unjust world this is to such gentle people as she. 

 

Spoiler

OOC: POP OFF MY GIRL - ABSOLUTELY ICONIC POST - SO PROUD OF YOU HABIBTI <3 HATTANS FOR LIFE RAHHHHHHHHH

 

[Cryptic 549]

Good post! 👍