Shard slips in, wordless and with light steps, and takes up a spot somewhere near the back. Her expression is guarded and neutral, which is fairly typical for her, all told, and her attention is as much on the people gathered and arriving as on anything else.

white-tailed eagle, other white-tailed eagle arrive, following Mia.

It is a somber event and so like many other's Prince Edain is quiet as he enters. He never had the chance to know the deceased well, so he quietly finds a place in the back to stand quietly, while paying his respects.

Armor seemed appropriate for the occasion, given the capacity in which Thena knew Zhayla, and she's in her best brigandine. It's with typical stoicism that the Knight of Solace offers a brief silent bow to Samantha and then moves to join Orazio, Leona and a few others.

Thena has joined the Paved Patio.

Joscelin remains silent, in her usual multi-colored coat with its fine craftsmanship, standing towards the back of the crowd, cheeks wet, her hands in her pockets.

Aureth arrives with Aleksei more or less at his heels. A close study might make it a little suspect, like maybe one or the other of them might have needed the support. It's Aureth's job to be a professional funeralizer, but the wetness and redness about his eyes definitely shows signs that he has been taking that job /super/ seriously. He nods to Samantha, inhalation long and slow, and smiles very faintly as he walks towards the front of the room, standing still and quiet with his hands clasped. He waits for people to get situated, weight balanced on his feet.

"Thank you, Father Orazio." Samantha says quietly. Her hand absently strokes Nara's hair. She takes up her spot by the grave, returning Aureth's nod, and then her eyes seek out Rymarr's.

Thesarin steps in with Mia, arm out so she can keep her hand in the crook. He looks grimmer than usual, standing in silence, making his way to a spot with the mourners. The Deepwoods each get a low nod as he walks.

Maybe it's on purpose that Ian slips into what's probably pretty hostile territory for him just a little bit late, enough so that he might be able to be here and largely escape notice. He's swapped out his beat up leather coat for one of a similar style made of boiled wool. With his attention on his own footsteps, he picks out somewhere out of the way to stand.

Esoka strides into Deepwood Manor. Whatever happiness she felt at Lady Joslyn's knighting has settled back to somber as she comes to this. Bearing the heirloom twin scimitars of Riven at her hip, eyes tight and tired. She walks just behind Thesarin and Mia, offering an inclination of her head to Samantha and Rymarr when she spots them.

Mae is present. Shrouded in a dark cloak, with black silk beneath it. Her pale face and red skull earrings contrast with all that dark and black. Soon as Mae spots Aureth, she moves to stand by the man's side. As she does, there's a faint jingle, jingle, jingle with each step. She stays otherwise quiet.

Grandt, House Leary man-at-arms arrives, following Fairen.

5 Grayson Guardsmen, Crom, an expressive bull-mastiff, Songbird, a dignified war-mastiff arrive, following Lark.

Aleksei looks -- honestly pretty terrible. He's not crying at present, but he has the look of a man who's been doing a great deal of just that today. He's in his white leathers, but somehow they look more creased and rumpled today. It probably has to do with the slump of his shoulders not offering the usual square back for the lines of the outfit. He can't manage a smile for Samantha, but he offers something close. The ghost of one, maybe. It's Nara that manages to tug his mouth just a bit wider, the saddest of soft smile touching his lips. He swallows a bit thickly and moves on. After a moment he notices Orazio, Leona, and Thena and moves in that direction.

Aleksei has joined the Paved Patio.

Calaudrin's funeral clothes look much like the clothes he wears /everyday/. There's probably a reason for that, but that reason doesn't matter. For now, he just files in with the rest of people coming to the funderal and finds a bit of space for himself. A space without other people closing in around him. Which might be difficult, all things considered.

Rymarr stands back and aside of Samantha and the child she holds. One hand rests atop the pommel at his left side and the other rests at his side. He leans forward to speak a quiet word to Samantha, before again he withdraws and straightens. Features that are normally grim and stern are far more severe on this evening and his jaw has been set. New arrivals are met with a solemn dip of his chin in silent greeting and acknowledgment. Though as Samantha steps away to take her position, Rymarr steps after her.

Joscelin has joined the Garden Maze.

Hana has joined the Paved Patio.

Roland's arrival is quiet and as discreet as possible; he, too, is wearing armor, but it is polished as fine as he could polish it. His two swords each bear a dark grosgrain ribbon, tied in a mourning knot. He finds a spot off to the back and out of the way where he can stand, hands folded, to honor the fallen dame.

Joscelin has left the Garden Maze.

Hana makes her way into the Deepwood Manor, her eyes still puffy from crying over the past few nights. The young weaponsmith makes her way over towards the biggest cluster of familiar faces -- towards Orazio, Leona, Thena, and Aleksei -- and offers them all a quiet nod in greeting. She doesn't say anything, her usual chipper mood diminished and somber.

Lark arrives flanked by a pair of well behaved war mastiffs, along with a retinue of much more human guardians. She's attired in properly Grayson colors, green and black, and has seen fit to don the ceremonial crown of the High Lord for the occasion. Subdued smiles are extended to those she passes as she looks for a suitable place to situate herself, no doubt out of the way. The occasion may be sad, but she hold her short frame high to project the sort of confidence a crown princess should in times of tragedy.

Lark has joined the Paved Patio.

Samael enters the grounds draped in a heavy black cloak over his white and blue silks. He walks over toward Samantha and Rymarr, his sullen expression speaking volumes, especially since he is so often such a cheerful man. He leans in close to Samantha and offers a quiet word, his voice hoarse.

Largely social scenes have never really been Fairen's strong suit, and it shows at the Marquis makes his way into the Manor Grounds, his posture struggling against being pulled in and reserved. Even, he looks somewhat uncomfortable. Still, there is a solemn, sullened expression worn on his face as he strides into the area wearing mostly black silks, accented with dark greens around the trim. Canted off to one side of the man, a guardsmen follows behind him, wearing a traditional military dress uniform, adorned with the House Leary colors.

Voice pitched to carry with the weight of a consummate performer, Aureth speaks: "Thank you all for coming. And I'd like to offer my thanks, as well, to the Marquesa and Marquis for their hospitality. This place was very important to Zhayla, and so was that same hospitality. It is fitting that we stand here beneath these eaves as we come together to bid her farewell."

Samantha nods to Rymarr, gently shifting Nara in her arms, and murmurs a soft, "Thank you, Uncle." to Samael. Her attention rests primarily on Aureth, ready for whenever the priest of the Queen cares to begin.

Nobody wants to see someone who looks pretty okay with the situation when that situation is a funeral, which might be another reason why Ian is staying out of the way. There are no signs of grief on his face, and no pain in his eyes. There aren't even signs that he's holding these feelings in. He's somber, but calm. But he does, at least, have enough self-awareness to keep himself and his serene presence mostly out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

Fortunato has joined the Paved Patio.

Rymarr casts a stoic nod toward Samael, but inevitably the Marquis of Deepwood's attention is drawn to regard Aureth as he begins. Blue eyes fix onto the Archlector of the Queen of Endings for a moment, then proceed to carry on. Rymarr's focus turns to those gathered, scanning and surveying. Ever watchful for some threat, he divides his attention between the crowds and the ceremony.

1 Armed Confessors, Confessor Scribble arrive, following Delilah.

Conker, the Ornery Red Squirrel, Dame Barkley, a chocolate tri beagle, Delilah arrive, following Joslyn.

Mae stays near Aureth, looking solemn, her eyes on the ground. She looks up, when the man speaks, to watchin him a moment, then she gives a faint little nod, seeming to agree with the words. She considers another moment, then she drifts away from Aureth's side, to Rymarr and Samantha. She murmurs a few near silent words.

Samael gives Nara a smile and a small squeeze of her hand before turning his attention toward Aureth.

Shard eventually settles into what seems to be her default posture; arms crossed, eyes slightly narrowed. She's clearly listening, though her gaze is still drifting over those gathered, rather than settling on Aureth.

When Mia entered with Thesarin, she did not make a point of nodding to her liege lords. No, Mia paused as she passed them, making a point to curtsy to both Rymarr and Samantha -- and once again, to where Zhayla lay. Her eyes, unlike so many others, were not limned with red, but her already stark features were now drawn and pale, her face that many shades closer to her white gown.

Aureth moves and stands before the sapling at the head of the grave. He stands there for a moment, his hair loose in the breeze, his longcoat a blaze of brilliant white, a pale and frowning figure beside the young tree. He says, "The Mother of Beginnings spun this soul and placed it in this body as a gift to the world. And that gift, what Zhayla brought to this world, was courage. Not just the courage of a warrior, although she had that, in spades, the brilliant reckless heart-stopping courage that put everyone who cared about her with their heart in their mouth whenever she ventured forth in the morning. But a kind of courage rare in this world.

“Dame Zhayla of Old Oak had the courage of her convictions. She lived her choices. She owned everything that she stood for. She was a champion of honor. A champion of freedom. A liberator, in thought, in deed, in spirit. She put her life on the line for freedom, time and time again. She knew the risks that she faced each day in life, and she embraced them, because she would not stay behind when there was work to be done. She saw each step ahead of her, be it bump in the road or horrifying precipice, and at none of them did she do anything but leap.

“She had the courage to be open-hearted. To give freely of herself, of her affection, of her friendship. To give willingly of her loyalty, of her strength, of her purpose. And it was that courage that made her a true friend, as well as a true hero.”

He stands for a moment quiet, then, his head bowed as his throat works, grappling with himself visibly for composure.

Aleksei has left the Paved Patio.

Keso, a street urchin have been dismissed.

Peanut, an oversized mastiff have been dismissed.

Esoka spots Calaudrin in the crowd. Which is easy, since he always wears the same thing. She takes the space around him as invitation to sidle up next to him, making a soft "Ugh" sound. She mutters something to him, but quiets as Aureth's service begins.

Joslyn has joined the Paved Patio.

Aleksei has joined the Paved Patio.

Joslyn arrives, hand clasped with Delilah's as they come into the grounds. She seems to have arrived just in time to hear Aureth's words and as he speaks, she draws a few deep breaths, leaning into Delilah before she moves to take a seat, her expression somber and subdued as she finds a place to settle near Hana, casting a tight smile towards her even as she exhales a sigh, the words from Aureth managing to draw a proud smile from Joslyn, even as she blinks shimmering eyes.

After those words with Rymarr and Samantha, Mae gives a dip of her head, then straightens up and circles around, coming to stand near Aureth, back and to the side, and takign the long way to get there. She remains the dark image on the background, moving not more than is necessary to reach out and lay a thin, pale hand on Aureth's shoulder, to give a faint squeeze.

Delilah has joined the Paved Patio.

Calaudrin looks over to Esoka when she stands next to him and his expression becomes mildly concerned at her appearance. Whatever she whispers to him is met with a soft snort.

Rymarr offers Mia a solemn nod in acknowledgment, though there aren't other shows of greeting or familiarity. For the moment his jaw is set with teeth firmly pressed together, mouth pulled into the bow of a frown, and his eyebrows lowered with a show of subdued anger or grief. Rymarr nods after Mae's arrival, though he doesn't speak, and with Aureth beginning in earnest Rymarr's attention is turned back to the Archlector. At least briefly, before again Rymarr's stare begins to shift over the crowds once again. An armored thumb slowly shifts around the unadorned pommel of the blade at his side, perhaps in a show of some sort of small gesture of self-soothing.

Delilah quietly slips inside with Joslyn, albeit belatedly. She took in a staggered breath as her eyes fell towards where Zhayla lay, and, with a bit of direction from Joslyn, she manages to find a place to settle. There's an immediate quietness to her, a strong desire to avoid any eye contact at all.

Finding a quiet little out of the way place to settle himself in, Fairen sits down and folds his hands into his lap, turning to face Aureth as the proceedings begin.

Wash shows up in Kennex whites, formal and respectful for the departed.

Ian continues to keep himself out of the way, but he does nod to Wash when he sees the other Kennex arrive.

As Aureth continues on, Samael moves away from Samantha, Rymarr and Nara, offering them a pained half smile. He walks over and joins Joslyn and Delilah. He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head toward them, silently greeting them in mourning.

Samael has joined the Paved Patio.

"But I could talk about this kid for hours," Aureth says. His smile is faint, wintry, but there. "And cry at you all. But instead, I think I'd like to ask you all to think about her yourselves. Come forward, say a few words. Write it, if you don't want to speak it. Dame Zhayla will be buried some of her personal weapons at the insistence of several people who love her. But she will also be buried with our wishes, our hopes, our memories. The power of our love will go with her into the arms of the Queen of Endings, for she touched many, many lives, for the better. Mae will help me find people to call on."

Lark has joined the line.

Edain has joined the line.

Orazio has joined the line.

Joslyn has joined the line.

Aleksei has joined the line.

Joscelin has joined the line.

Wash, having never met the departed, heads to a seat and settles there, here to listen and watch for now.

Wash has joined the Trestle Tables.

Samael has joined the line.

Esoka has joined the line.

Fortunato has joined the line.

Esoka snorts back at Calaudrin, but it turns into a sniffle as her eyes go to Zhayla's still form. She blinks her currently very misty blue eyes, straightening and raising a hand to Mae. She'll say a little, along with so many others.

Mae keeps her hand on Aureth's shoulder as he speaks. When Aureth speaks, she withdraws her hands, and her big eyes - so sad, yet so wide - start to scan the gathering. When hands start rising, and gestures are given, and people stand, those wide eyes go even wider. "Oh, my..." she murmurs. Then she sucks in a breath, and leaves Aureth side, working around the perimeter to bring herself over towards Lark. "Princess Lark?" she asks, and makes a small gesture, that the woman should step to the front to speak. Apparently they meant quite literally 'come forward' to speak.

Turn in line: Lark

Drysi, a young shaman apprentice arrives, following Khanne.

Samantha seems content, for the moment, to remain standing at the grave. She wrote both the proclamation and her own thoughts expressed in the white journals, and anything she might otherwise say would only be a repeat. But hearing from others, this seems to bring her comfort, along with her daughter in her arms.

Calaudrin isn't really much for crying and this entire funeral thing seems to be making him distinctly uncomfortable. He looks around at all of the crying people and sighs. But it's Esoka that garners his attention and he drops an arm around her shoulders and squeezes her closely.

Stepping down from the patio and without her retinue, Lark approaches the resting place of the deceased and turns to address those assembled. She's tiny, but she still sustains the posture a leader should in times of tragedy. The occasion is honored, perhaps, by her choice to wear the Grayson ceremonial crown. "Dame Zhayla and I had occasion to know each other," she says, "and I could not do better justice to her character than has already been said. She was every bit the good woman of virtue she's been named as." A pause, for a moment, as she looks about. "I felt an obligation to be here, furthermore, because the Dame perished in the Grayson ward. A shocking scene for any High Lord, I think. Although the Dame has passed to the Shining Lands, the crime that was her death remains. I promise you, I will see justice in this matter settled, that all may rest in some peace on this tragedy." Lark dips her head slightly to the mourners, to Aureth, and then returns to her forward position on the patio.

Aureth murmurs, "Thank you, Your Grace. May it be so before the Sentinel."

Hana looks torn as to whether or not she has the composure to step forward and say anything about her friend.

Rymarr remains statuesque as those who wish to speak make it known and the procession begins. Rymarr nods along with Lark's words, but remains silent and otherwise unmoving. Then his attention drifts over the gathering once more, then back to the next to approach. For a moment Rymarr's attention shifts to Zhayla and his mouth opens, then snaps closed once more and his jaw begins to work slowly from side to side. Judging by the scowl, someone had placed something sour in his mouth during that brief moment of opening.

Mae sucks in a deep, long breath as she watches Lark speak. Slowly, she lets it out. And when Lark finishes, Mae flashes a faint smile to the little princess, and inclines her head. She then turns and looks about again, and starts to drift onward, to Edain. "Prince Edain?" she asks, in a whisper of a voice. There's a gesture for the man to take his turn up front.

Turn in line: Edain

Edain approaches approaches the bier, holding a small bundle in his hands, "I wish I could say I knew Dame Zhayla well, but sadly we only ever meet in passing. But she was a defender of the Compact and all of Arvum, and for that I will always be grateful." He starts to unwrap his bundle, "My father had a tradition, when a knight in his service fell, their arms and armor where always sent to their family. But he would keep their spurs, a reminder of those that fell in service to him. He would bury them in the garden in Sanctum." he finishes unwrapping the small bundle to reveal a small pair of spurs.

Edain moves to Marqueesa Samantha and Marquis Rymarr and presents the spurs to them.

Aureth grins despite himself. "A gift to remark upon considering what Zhayla did when first confronted with the prospect of horseflesh," he says, and scrubs his face as though to chase the expression away, "but an honorable tradition. Thank you, Your Grace, for your words and your gratitude."

Patches, a three-legged mutt, Flame, a chestnut stallion arrive, following Tristan.

Leona suddenly looks at Edain, her eyes staring at the Valardin for a long moment before she nods once. One hand touches the bracelet at her wrist and then falls to her side.

Fairen didn't personally know Zhayla very well, so he is among perhaps the few people who doesn't get up to get in line. Instead, he remains in his seat, silently bowing his head and closing his eyes in what appears to be a prayer. When it is complete, he looks back up, listening to the speeches each person is giving.

Khanne arrived to the memorial for Zhayla as quietly and inconspicuously as she could. She listens to all those who speak, nodding her head softly on occasion. Hands clasped before her, she wears a solemn expression. She does not try to mix into the people gathered or to disturb those who knew Zhayla well, choosing instead to stand on the outskirts and pay her respects in silence.

Lark finishes her return to the patio, flanked once more by her two quietly behaved war hounds and the retinue of guards assigned to her. It's obvious that she doesn't wish to take the light of this occasion from the funeral, such that she stands back a bit now that her condolences and promises have been delivered. Edain's gesture prompts an appreciative smile for a moment's time as she brings her hands together at her midsection, fingers knitting together.

Ian stays out of the way, leaning on his cane and watching with serene blue eyes as people begin to line up to pour out their grief.

Samantha shifts Nara onto her hip with minimal fuss, and extends her free hand to accept the weight of the spurs in her free hand. "Thank you, Your Highness." she says with the briefest twitch of a thankful smile. "We might leave them with her, and let them be laid to rest here. It seems fitting, if you have no objection."

As Edain moves to Samantha and Rymarr, to deliver that gift, Mae starts to look about once more. She catches sight of Orazio, and she can't help but smile. She forces the expression back to Orazio-style neutral, and she drifts towards the Legate. "Father... If you wish to?" she says, in that same tiny voice, as she gestures to the front.

Turn in line: Orazio

Edain smiles to Samanatha, "They are for you to honor her how ever you see fit Marqueesa." And that said he fades back into the back to allow those that knew her better share their thoughts.

Orazio nods to Mae. "Thank you, Disciple." He glides to the speaking place in his white robes, his expression composed. His voice, too, when he speaks doesn't break, for all that it carries a warmth and sadness to it. He looks towards the grave. "I only met Dame Zhayla on a few occasions - all before she gained that august and well-deserved title. The first were at the instigation of others who knew of a Prodigal who wished to learn of the Faith and the gods. We spoke, but for some reason, then-Mistress Zhayla found me...intimidating. I can't imagine why. Still, we spoke of the gods, and I found in her a light that burned pure and clean. She strove for justice, for truth, and with a boundless compassion that could not help but warm the souls of those she walked with. I gave her a gift, once, because I trusted that she would use it only for a righteous cause, and only to protect others." He takes a deep breath, lets it out very slowly. "She upheld that trust impeccably, and I know that when she stands before the Sentinel, the Silent Watcher will have seen every moment of her life...and found it worthy." He bows his head, then steps back to his place on the patio.

Rymarr offers a deep bow of the head toward Edain and the gift. Though before Samantha makes her decision, Rymarr leans forward to offer a quiet word to her. Though he seems to make it quick in order to withdraw and turn his attention to Orazio's words.

"Thank you, Father. I can think of no higher honor," Aureth says, laying his hand over his heart. "And I know that she would glow with pride to hear it."

Tristan slips in quietly at the edges of the crowd. The stablemaster's face is solemn; his hair is neat and he's clean-shaven, which for him means he takes this occasion seriously. Even Patches, flopping down on Tristan's boots, seems subdued.

Shard continues listening. She narrows her eyes a little further here and there, but the rest of her expression is utterly unreadable.

Mae watches Orazio speak, and as he speaks, a wide smile crosses her features. She looks positively chuffed, until her eyes go glossy. She sniffles, and then lifts a hand to wide the back of it at her eyes. It takes her a moment or three before she can suck in a breath and steel herself. She looks back around the gathering, and locks eyes with Joslyn. She starts that way, then makes a small gesture when she reaches her. "Lady Joslyn, if you wish..." she says.

Turn in line: Joslyn

Samantha nods to Rymarr's murmur, lowering her eyes while giving him a smaller nod of thanks. Her attention now goes to the newly made Dame Joslyn, visibly curious to hear what she has to say.

As the line moves along Thena stays clear of it, dark gaze fixed on a point in the middle distance. She is mainly motionless but for her fingers, which pass over a string of green polished prayerbeads wrapped around one wrist.

As Joslyn makes eye contact with Mae she draws a deep breath, smoothing the silks of her skirt as she gives the other woman a short nod, exhaling that same breath, rising to move, to stand before everybody. "The first time I met Dame Zhayla, we didn't really have time to speak. We were following Princess Reese into battle against Brand, holding various points of the city to reinforce where failure was imminent. I fought at her side and was amazed at her skills. It was later that she complimented my own and from there we slowly began to grow closer. She was one of the best fighters I've ever known, and she became a special friend to me, as she is to so many of you," Joslyn draws a deep breath, voice choked for a few moments before she procedes. "Later, I was standing in his very room to witness her knighting, and I couldn't have been more proud, and never before have I ever seen someone so deserving," Joslyn closes her eyes. "The time that we had together was far too short, but I'll treasure each moment that we had shared. Each precious memory. She was among the best that I've ever known, and she carried herself with integrity until the last. I am honored to have been able to call her friend, for as brief as that period was." Joslyn wipes at her eyes, managing to cast a greif-stricken smile to the rest of those gathered before she moves once more to return to her seat beside Delilah, leaning into her with a long sigh.

Rymarr casts a suddenly amused look toward Orazio, but the amusement fades gradually and a nod of agreement is offered in time with the Legate of Concept's words. Only during a lull in the process does Rymarr leans forward again, his eyes fixed on the gathered bodies, while he offers a quiet word to Samantha. When he's finished, he withdraws once more in order to return his attention to Joslyn.

Mia has joined the line.

As unobtrusively as possible, Samantha passes off the spurs to a nearby servant. Something Rymarr must have said seems to have made her decide not to bury them after all. Nonetheless, they are held with reverent care. She smiles wistfully at Joslyn in return.

"Thank you, Lady Joslyn," Mae says, from the back and to the side. She'll take over for a moment while Aureth works on his own composure. "That is something I think we all cannot hear often enough... Treasure those moments we have..." she murmurs. The Harlequin takes a breath, then looks back over the gathering. It's poor Aleksei that she catches sight of, this time. She steps closer towards him, jingling merrily with each step. "Archlector Aleksei," she says, and then gives a small gesture.

Turn in line: Aleksei

Delilah had remained completely silent and still for each and every person in line, her gaze not pulling from the grave at all. As Joslyn returned to her side, Delilah gingerly slipped an arm around the other woman, pulling her in close and drawing a heavy breath.

Wash gestures in Ian's direction and if the younger man is looking, gestures for him to join them.

When Aleksei gets to the front of the line, it takes him a moment. He's clearly been crying a good deal today already, and he's hanging on now by the thinnest of threads. "When I met Zhayla," he starts out, his voice a bit hoarse, "I was a knight who didn't want to be one, and she was a nobody who wanted to be the kind of heroes people tell stories about." He smiles, then, albeit in a very small way. "I think we were friends because we had the same kind of hearts. Fierce and loyal and -- fun. Zhayla was so much fun. She was a /dork/. And fuck, she could swing that giant sword of hers."

He sucks in a long, sharp breath. "She was there when I took my vows. When I was appointed Archlector, she started writing to me about 'the dread ARRs.' Authority, respectability, responsibility." His voice quavers just a bit. "When she found out who her father was, and -- the legend about his Daughters. The forgiveness he needed. She asked me if I thought he could make a different choice. If he could return to the light. I didn't have a good answer for her. I mean, in my defense, I think it was before I was a priest, so it wasn't my job yet to have a good answer." He smiles tight, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's my job now to say that we all have choices, but -- we don't all have the same ones. And some of them are much harder to make than others."

Aleksei closes his eyes now, taking a moment as his emotions threaten to overtake him. "She was my first Liberator," he finally says, and this is where his voice truly breaks. "She was the first one I asked. She was the first one I /thought/ to ask. She didn't grow up in the tradition of the Pantheon, but she embraced it. She asked questions, and she wanted to learn and understand. And she wanted so fiercely to break chains. She wanted to free the people who had been enslaved by her father. She wished in her heart that he could be redeemed, but she didn't risk anyone's life for that hope. And in the end, she refused the forgiveness that would loose him on the world. In the end, she was -- unbent."

His breath hitches in the threat of a sob, and he turns his face away, scrubbing at his cheeks with the heel of his hand. "She was one of the fiercest heroes I've ever known," he says, the grief fully audible in his voice now. "And she was one of the greatest friends I've ever had. She had too many duties in life to take it on, but -- in her death, post -- posthumously, I -- I name her as First Liberator." And then he steps away, a bit sudden and sharp, back towards the patio he stood at before.

Only now does Samantha move from her spot; she intercedes in Aleksei's path, holding one arm out to him.

Aureth parts his lips like he might have some words to thank Aleksei for speaking, but then he closes his mouth again. He wiggles his fingers at Mae and turns aside for a moment to scrub both hands over his face, shedding tears and sniffing hard.

Hana's composure finally breaks at Aleksei's words; she has to cover her eyes to keep from crying.

Something in Aleksei's words finally draws the tears that had been threatening to fall from Joslyn's eyes, this time she leans fully into Delilah, quiet sobs shake her body as she buries her face in her hands, wiping her eyes, trying to continue to watch those that speak.

Ian continues to listen, leaning on his cane, impassive, unmoved.

Mae stands, she watches, and she cries. Those wet eyes break, and tears start to roll down her cheeks. She takes in a long breath, then, just like Aureth, the little Harlequin has things to say. But when she opens her mouth, no words come out. So she closes her mouth, and looks to Aureth. She sees that gesture, and then takes another breath, and finally looks back to Aleksei. "Th-... Thank you, Archlector Aleksei," she says. She slowly turns to look across the gathering. "Gui-..." the word starts to form but gets caught. She takes another breath. "Guildmaster Joscelin, would... would you like to say a few words?" she asks the poor woman who just happened to be in Mae's line of sight.

Turn in line: Joscelin

As the memories and mourning poured out of others, Mia stood with Thesarin -- stricken but silent, save for the ragged sound of her intaken breath. Thin fingers curled in her husband's elbow, bunching up the fabric of his sleeve in what was swiftly becoming a small fist.


Joscelin walks forward, her hands in her pockets, cheeks wet with tears that tip from her eyes and don't stop. She stares down at the sapling, brow furrowing, twitching features as she struggles with her emotions and her thoughts. Finally, though, she steps closer, digs in her pocket and pulls out an old, battered compass. "Here," she says, in a voice that croaks, rough as a raven's. "This was our sister's. I wanted to give this to you but I didn't get the chance." Leaning down, she presses it into the fresh dirt, buries it quickly. "May it guide you, as it did her, and know my heart is with you, and I hope I will see you in the next Turn, my little's sister's little sister." She lingers for a heartbeat, the flow of tears increasing, before she steps away with a ragged exhale, making room for the next person to speak, the spine of the plump, curvy woman stiff as she moves.

Aleksei slows in his path when Samantha steps forward and reaches for him. He can't manage to enter fully into that offered embrace, but he does reach to clasp her hand, warm and tight, squeezing her fingers for that moment. His gaze falls to Nara in her arms, managing a small smile. He murmurs a few quiet words to Samantha then.

Tristan swallows, the muscles rippling in his throat, and looks down. He plays with Patches' ears, silent.

Wash is overheard praising Edain for: Well-spoken, empathic and generous.

Aureth has managed to haul his shit back together enough -- so to speak -- that he can speak again when Joscelin speaks. "Thank you, dear heart. I am glad you had something of hers to share."

Joscelin turns her head to give Aureth a small nod, unable to smile for the moment, as she retreats.

This time, Mae manages to smile at the speaker when they are finished. A soft, faint, but none-the-less warm smile is sent to Joscelin. "Thank you," she murmurs out. Then the tear-stricken Harlequin turns to look back across the gathering, and takes a few jingling steps across the grounds before she spots Samael. "Lord Samael," she says. "If you wish...?" and she gives a small gesture.

Thesarin continues to stand still and straight, grim but dry-eyed. He slowly moves his free hand to the crook of his arm, covering Mia's hand in his.

Turn in line: Samael

Samael pats Joslyn on the back gently before he walks up at his turn. As he passes Joscelin he reaches out and grabs ahold of her hand, if she allows it, giving it a squeeze. He continues on up and nods toward Mae and then looks toward Zhayla's body. He lets out a soft sigh and shakes his head. He leans down and drops a flower onto the body. He turns toward the assembly, his eyes glistening. "To accept the oaths of Knighthood in the sight of Gloria, is to break the shackles of selfishness. To devote yourself to your march and to champion her ideals and proudly protect her defenseless is to do a fine thing," Samael says, his voice full of sorrow, echoing his words from Lady Joslyn's knighting.

"Gods keep you, Dame Zhayla of Old Oak, First Liberator. May your sacrifice never be forgotten. I did not know you, but you protected my beloved Niece and I will always be thankful to you for that," Samael says with a tear rolling down his mahogany face. "Serene as the deepest wood," he says after turning toward Samantha. He gives her a soft smile before walking back to where he stood near Joslyn and Delilah.

Lark continues to watch over the procession of mourners stepping forward to speak on behalf of Dame Zhayla's character. For each, there is an appreciative and sympathetic nod, but she doesn't weep. Perhaps she feels an obligation, as either crown princess or high lord, to show that sort of strength in these times. Standing upright and silent, she does each speaker the respect of listening to the tales they have to tell.

"Thank you, my lord," Aureth says quietly. "I am glad that even those who did not know her well are here to honor her for her love and duty."

Khanne continues to listen. The words and the emotions of others showing their effect on her. Her brow furrows with sorrow and she lifts a hand, resting a curled finger against her lips.

Mae flashes a smile to Samael, and gives a soft inclination of her head. Then she turns to gaze over the gathering once more. Fewer hands waving and individuals making eye contact, now. She ends up settling her gaze upon Esoka. "Dame Esoka," she says, and offers a smile, faint but encouraging. She gestures towards the front.

Turn in line: Esoka

Samantha looks for a moment like Samantha intended more than a simple squeeze of her hand, but something in Aleksei's gaze seems to incline her not to pull him in. Instead she simply squeezes it back. Letting him go, she returns to her spot, and then with a small sigh, moves into the queue.

Esoka /is/ a crier. She feels all her feelings. So her face is tear-streaked, and she has to do some loud sniffling and blinking when it's her to turn talk. She plows into what she wants to say resolutely, though. "I didn't know Dame Zhayla as well as many here, but I think we were friends. And we were both prodigals who came to carry the knighthood. It's not a title that existed in the tribe I was born to, or in hers. I remember us talking on it, a few days before she was knighted. On the heaviness of it, how strange it could feel sometimes. Also on the obligation of it. Honor, duty, chivalry. Putting your life and blood in front of those you're sworn to, those weaker than yourself. To defend your people. It's a lot of big words that not everyone who gets called a Sir or a Dame lives up to very well. Zhayla was nervous about how she'd carry it, if she was worthy. But she shouldn't have been. I told her I thought she'd be as good a knight as any." She lifts her eyes to try and find Samantha and Rymarr's. "She fought so hard and so well, and it meant so much to her that her bravery and spirit were embraced by the people of the Old Oak. She found a home here. She loved being a knight of Deepwood. And she was one of the best and truest Dames I've ever known." Her voices catches at that, and she retreats back where her sniffles can get lost in the crowd.

Samantha has joined the line.

Calaudrin's expression grows grimmer and more tight as the attendees take their time to speak, one after the other. He waits in his seat with his elbows pressed onto his knees, hands clasped together while Esoka speaks. When her words fade and she returns into the crowd, he stands up from his seat silently and opens his arms. No, he does not look sad at all. You're wrong, you're all quite wrong.

"Thank you, Dame Esoka. I'm glad to hear a knight she respected speak so well of her worth," Aureth says with a grave nod.

Rymarr has joined the line.

As she places herself in the queue, Sam pauses, reroutes, and then without any ado, lifts Nara from her hip and holds her out to Aleksei. There's a little kicking action on Nara's part, but she also wags her hands at Aleksei because well, Aleksei. And once he has the little nipper, Samantha returns to the queue.

Mae manages to keep herself staring at Esoka until she hears the word 'home'. Then there's a sharp breath, and Mae's tears start to roll anew. At least she's not sobbing and wailing. Just quietly crying. She inclines her head towards Esoka, then looks around once more. Her eyes lock on Fortunato, and she just /stares/ at the man for a long moment. "... Fort," she finally says. Then she flaps a hand at him. And she's sniffling now, and wiping at her eyes. Preparing for more tears.

Turn in line: Fortunato

Aleksei takes Nara in his arms with a small but warm smile, holding her with a familiar grip in the firm strength of his arms. He breathes deep and slow, listening to the others as they speak on Zhayla, a bit more anchored now with the little girl in his arms.

Fortunato stares back at Mae, long, more through her than at her, and steps forward. He's not very expressive, he rarely is in public. But he spreads his hands. "What do I have to add? She was a friend I wished to know yet better, she was a hero who fought to the end and would've fought to longer ends. She was optimistic to the dogged point of cheer, she couldn't see anyone in gloom without trying to spread that cheer, but her heart was iron in the forge. May we again see her like. May we know her again. There is nothing else for me to say." He reaches into the pocket of his duster and places a sketch of a-- somewhat rotund cat on the ground. He withdraws to the benches.

Wash produces a jug from his satchel and uncorks it discreetly. He tilts some back and then offers it to Edain, the event is too sober for him to remain so himself for long.

Still harnessed and clothed for normal duties, Agnarr joins the onlookers, remaining at the back.

Mae's expression seems all the more troubled as Fortunato speaks. She closes her eyes, then opens them. She stares at the sketch that's been drawn, but she's too far away to see it. Curiosity mixes with sorrow, and she's distracted from a moment. Right, job to do! So she takes a breath, and then looks around. Her eyes find Mia. "My lady?" she offers, and then makes a small gesture.

Turn in line: Mia

Esoka might do some snorting at Calaudrin's not-sadness, but it's lost in her own vocal sadness as she folds an arm of his around her shoulders. Swiping a few tears off her cheeks so she has a somewhat unobstructed view of Fortunato when he gets up. Neck craning to see that sketch. There's a blink of surprise at the cat, and then she smiles through her tears a little.

Shard fidgets a little in place. The break in her otherwise statuesque composure is brief, and it doesn't spread to her guarded, unreadable expression. Her gaze, however, has stopped wandering. She's both watching and listening to each person going up to speak.

Tristan has joined the line.

Mia unlatched her fingers from Thesarin's elbow and stepped forward slowly, her expression taut and her eyes pensive. For a moment, she looked down at the dying grass between her feet. When she lifted her head to speak, it was with a heavy sigh and a throaty voice. "In truth, I did not know Dame Zhayla well -- a few brief meetings only and she, as so many of you know, plain and open with her words. But in that short time and in those few conversations, what I discovered between us was understanding. Shared loyalties." Here, Mia nodded towards Lark. "Shared oaths." And again, towards the Deepwoods. "Shared fears. Shared beliefs. Shared purpose. What I discovered was a woman who would've, given time, I think been a fine and fierce and loyal friend. And what I see when I look at her now is that opportunity lost, dashed to pieces. It will stand among my regrets when it is my time to be returned to the Wheel." Mia's brow furrowed then, her face lining deeply with the weight of her frown. "We do not any of us know what tomorrow may bring, but we what we do know is what is in our hearts today. We know those who stand with us or before us daily. So I would urge you now -- do not let another opportunity be lost. Reach out to others boldly and bravely, as though it is your one shining moment to show them your true feelings, your true self. Build the bonds between you. Build a brighter life, for yourself. Build a stronger Compact, for all of us. As Dame Zhayla did." And with that, she curtsied again to the departed knight, her head bowing low with the gesture.

Aureth crouches beside Fortunato's sketch and then carefully, carefully lofts it into the grave, so that the image of the very very very round cat rests at Zhayla's feet. He rises again and looks to Mia with tear-bright gray eyes. "An exhortation we can all get behind, my lady. Thank you."

Well, /on/ Zhayla's calves. Cats never go where you want.

"Thank you, my lady," Mae murmurs out, to Mia. The little Harlequin, clad in dark fabric, waits a few moments before turning her gaze to whomever is left. She finds Samantha's face, and then steps towards the woman. "Marquessa Samantha," she says, before inviting the woman to speak.

Turn in line: Samantha

"I...don't really have much more I can say about how much Zhayla meant to me." Samantha has taken up the spot next to Aureth at her turn. She clears her throat, lowering her eyes a moment before lifting them to look at all the people who've come to pay respects to the Dame. "I've accepted many struggling souls into Deepwood, but she was amongst the first of those to petition after I arrived in Arx." Samantha's lips press into a flat line for a moment before softening. "I am so glad that you all could know her. I am so glad that everyone can see that a person who had so little could come to mean so much to so many. And thank you for your stories. I deeply regret that my children will not know Zhayla, but your stories will be theirs in the nights to come before they go to sleep, as I will recount them until she is something more than a memory; she will be something magical." There's little more the Marquessa can say, and so she returns to her place where she stood previously.

"Thank you, Marquesa Samantha. I know only a shadow of what you meant to Zhayla, because I can't know another's heart, but I do know that she loved you, and glowed with pride in your service, because she made no secret of that." Aureth's smile is warm and quiet for a moment before he looks away, eyes dropping as he swallows.

Grandt, House Leary man-at-arms leaves, following Fairen.

Mae waits for the Marquessa to finish, then lets her words, and Aureth's words, hang in the air for a long moment. Her attention shifts back, this time finding Rymarr. "Marquis Rymarr," she says, and makes a gesture towards the front.

Turn in line: Rymarr

Her words said, Mia didn't return immediately to Thesarin's side. No, she went to find the teary-streaked and likely soggy Dame Esoka. It should be said that the Countess was not one for public displays of emotion. Some might even presume she wasn't one for any displays of emotion, really. But without a word, she wrapped her arms around the Prodigal in a close, close hug. And with Lieutenant Estardes already having an arm around the other woman, well.... he may well end up with half a forearm wrapped around him, or pressing uncomfortably close against his neck. It seems he was just going to have to deal with that. Or flee in terror. One or the other, really.

Shard has joined the line.

Esoka smiles a soggy smile and Mia and pulls her into a tight, muscle-y embrace. Without letting go of Calaudrin, so he may find himself in a surprise group hug. He'll live, probably.

Rymarr steps forward, pauses to give Samantha a brief hug, and then onward as he offers stiff nod of his head toward Aureth. He stops to consider Zhayla and then his attention turns back to the gathering. Briefly his lower lip bulges with the passage of his tongue, but then his mouth opens and he begins to speak with murmured words due to the teeth on one side of his jaw firmly pressed together, though it relaxes as he gets underway, "First, thank you all for coming to pay your respects to Dame Zhayla and presenting yourselves so that the lives she impacted is made apparent. Now, onward, when I met the Marquessa, I inevitably met Dame Zhayla, as she was her liege's shadow from time to time. I was part of the King's Own at that time and Zhayla was enamored with that idea. Not of me, but of the King's Own. Of knighthood. Something that I would later pour some of my time into, because I recognize how important that was to Zhayla, that understanding that tradition would mean a great deal to her."

A hand lowers to rest atop the pommel of his sheathed blade as though some predator awaiting prey to pass nearby, only to leap after it, "The Marquessa and I had arranged a horse for Zhayla. She and I had reached and agreement, I would teach her how to be a proper knight, and she would do a duty that she was already doing. A very simple agreement that she was very clearly coming out on top of. Riding is something that I believe every knight should have even a basic understanding of, but Zhayla was understandably tense around her horse. So, I told her 'Zhayla, here is a bag of sugar cubes, when you go out to greet Dumpling, give her one from the palm of your hand - she'll adore you in no time, after that, just brush her and spend time with her - let her get used to your presence'. After a couple of days, we spoke about the topic of her and Dumpling". Rymarr's stern expression twitches with a smile before he continues, "So I asked her, 'Zhayla, how are things going with Dumpling'? And her response? 'Great, Sir Rymarr! The last I visited Dumpling she had at least fifteen sugar cubes'... and that's when I realized that she may very well kill that horse unintentionally, in the most innocent and well-intended way possible."

Rymarr smiles a little more, bites his lower lip, and once again schools his features into order and he continues, "She would write me, I didn't sleep a lot during those days. She would write, filling her letters with questions and sentiments, aspirations, hopes, and sometimes simply asking me how my days were. She was interested in what I did, and not in the sense that she was trying to gather information and be painfully inadequate at deception. She was genuinely interested, she wanted to understand my life and what the life of the King's Own entailed. She was a vassal of House Deepwood, she was a good friend, and I will miss her dearly. I respected her and I appreciated her, for all the big and little things that she did and could do. She could take orders like a life-long soldier, she could relax around a firepit and shares stories, and she was eager to learn... always so eager to learn. I appreciated that out of her, her willingness to learn and grow."

"A grievous blow was dealt to not only House Deepwood but also the Compact. It isn't the first or the last that will. We will keep on fighting because that is how we will honor Dame Zhayla, we will set aside differences in order to focus on the enemies who would destroy us, battles are won and lost always, but it is important that we honor the fallen by winning the war they fought. I will, House Deepwood will, and I know the rest of the Compact will. That watery bastard needs to die and we're going to keep that in focus, because Dame Zhayla meant a great deal to us and we refuse to dishonor her memory by not continuing the fight on her behalf." Rymarr seems prepared to continue, but pauses. The Marquis straightens his posture, clears his throat, and inclines his chin ever so slightly before he continues, "And that will be all. If I continue you'll all be hear until morning and frankly I don't think we have enough blankets for that big of a slumber party."

Rymarr turns to face Zhayla, thumps an armored fist against his breastplate in salute, and then steps back. He returns once more to haunt Samantha's flank as he falls into utter silence and settles his attention ahead.

Is someone... is someone else touching him? Someone that isn't Esoka? Calaudrin does indeed look mildly uncomfortable with what's happening! But they're at a funeral for a much beloved member of the community, so he doesn't recoil or behave poorly in any fashion. He just accepts that this is transpiring. Hold on... this turning into a group hug? It's fine. This is fine. He's okay with that's happening right now.

Mia is overheard praising Calaudrin for: For facing weeping women without fear.

"Thank you, my lord," Aureth says with a slight nod to Rymarr. "I know that your respect was very important to her." He doesn't get any further into it, following the great outpouring of speech with a quiet mildness.

Mae stares, and stares, and stares. Her eyes go big and wide, and then she's blinking. Deep breaths, in and out. And only after Rymarr is back beside Samantha does Mae seem to, once again, remember she's supposed to be doing something. "Th-... thank you, my lord," she murmurs, echoing Aureth. She looks about, until she spots Tristan. "Ah, master-..." And Mae fails to find a name. She clears her throat, and offers a tiny smile. "If you'd like to say a few words," she murmurs, then gestures forward.

Turn in line: Tristan

Tristan coughs and squares his shoulders. The stablemaster, so graceful in the saddle, seems awkward, long limbs ill-at-ease, when the centre of attention. "I never knew her well enough," he says, voice gruff. "But we met when she summoned because she was terribly worried her horse--Dumpling--" and there's something in his tone that indicates whatever criteria Tristan uses for appropriate horse names, 'Dumpling' doesn't meet them, "had eaten her bridle. She was very worried, but listened as I logically worked through the greater possibility a stable boy had removed it for repair. Then we may have argued over whether it was healthy for a cat to be as wide as it was long," he admits. "But for all the time I knew her she was always cheerful, earnest, and concerned about doing what was right--as relentlessly bright as a far-off sun, tiny but mighty." He swallows, and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. "And now that sun is out." That's all. He leaves it there, and steps away.

"Thank you," Mae says to the stablemaster. She offers a tight smile, and an awkward expression. Trying to keep another round of tears from falling. She looks back over the gathering, and then blinks in clear surprise as she sees Shard indicating she'd like to speak. "Uuuh-..." is the Harlequin's oh-so-elegant response. "Shard? You... if you want..." she gestures to the front.

Turn in line: Shard

Shard's neutral, guarded expression doesn't change as she pads quickly and quietly up to the front, right to the edge of Zhayla's grave. From somewhere beneath her cloak during that walk, she's produced a long black wing feather, cleanly shed. It's not one of the ones she wears in her hair, although it certainly looks similar, if decidedly less worn. She twirls it for a moment between two fingers. "I didn't know her," the woman states simply. There's a beat in which she doesn't say anything else. "...But in the stories where I come from, ravens are guides and messengers, especially for warriors. Especially for warriors when they leave us. For all that ravens can be obnoxious, noisy, tricky, greedy assholes..." She flicks her fingers, and lets the feather flutter lightly down into the grave itself, "...they get us where we need to go." With nothing else, she twists in place, and moves to return to her place at the back.

After a few moments of too-long clinging to Esoka, and quite possibly distress to Calaudrin in the process, Mia finally sinks back onto her heels. To the former, she says nothing, apparently feeling no need to after her display. To the latter? Well, to the latter she looks up and pronounces, quietly but quite plainly, "You're tolerable." Lay bare your true feelings, indeed. But the words were accompanied by the faintest and most lopsided of smiles for the Iron Guardsman -- a fair indication that the Countess meant it as a jest. Or at least to restore the proper balance of them staring warily at one another when their dear Dame wasn't looking.

Khanne listens to Shard speak, watching the woman with the feather. She gives a soft nod as the feather flits down into the grave and Shard speaks her final words.

As Shard mentions ravens being obnoxious, Mae can't help to squint, and slowly look around for a particular crow. She doesn't spot it before Shard's finishes. "Thank you, Shard," Mae says, refocusing on the woman. And still a bit surprised. There's another look around the room. "Anyone else?" Mae asks. Going once... going twice... Mae turns, and starts back towards the front, back to Aureth. "I believe that is all who wish to speak, Blessed Aureth," she murmurs to the Archlector.

Esoka squeezes Mia a last time before the countess extricates herself from the surprise group hug. Snort-sniffling at Calaudrin, in a 'buck up' sort of way. There, there. It's over now. The rest of the words about Zhayla are listened to in grave quiet. Tristan's gets a watery smile. Rymarr's a deep nod of her head. Shard's, a thoughtful narrowing of those eyes, watching that feather as it falls.

"Thank you. I hope she always gets where she needs to go." The last speaker has spoken, so Aureth clears his throat and fills his lungs to project again, saying, "Thank you all. Zhayla's soul -- that great-hearted, hero's soul -- has been gathered into the arms of the Queen of Endings, and it goes with our love, with our respect, with our honor and our memories. This chapter in her story has come to an end, and all things must end, so that they begin anew. I hope you will all pray with me now, and thank the Queen of Endings for giving her to us, and for keeping safe her soul until such time as it is needed again, for it was a precious gift while we had her, and it touched all of us, and left our hearts and spirits vastly enriched. You have gone to Death with our blessing, Zhayla, and though we grieve our loss, we celebrate you, for what you were, and what you are, and what you next will be."

Inhalation deep, he touches the sapling, and says, "This new tree that has been planted over your grave is a sign of new beginnings, of new life from the end of the old, and it will watch over the children of Old Oak when they come to play in its shadow for generations to come. Mother of Beginnings, accept the honor of this new beginning; Queen of Endings, thank you for protecting our friend, our sister, our knight, as she is now returned to your embrace."

His final invocation is only, "All things must end, so that they may begin anew," and he bows his head, clasping his hands over the grave, and steps back.

Thesarin moves slowly toward Mia, Esoka, and Calaudrin. Slowly places one of his big hands on Esoka's shoulder, and squeezes tight. Moves beside Mia, to stand silent, and offer an arm as he lowers his head and closes his eyes.

Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, when the speaking comes to an end Thena extracts herself from the crowd and is gone.

Thena has left the Paved Patio.

Calaudrin looks a bit confused when he turns to Mia, then he catches that smile and looks all the more baffled. Somewhere in this, he's begun to pat at the front pocket of his shirt. Then he stops, looking at her a bit suspiciously and shifting so that he's a little behind Esoka. Who will /surely/ save him. Even as she snort-sniffles at him to get it together.

Mae stays quiet. Her eyes fall shut. She does not add to Aureth's words. She doesn't say anything... aloud, at least. If anyone's watching, her lips are moving. She's murmuring out her own words. Her own little prayer.

Rymarr glances to the grave, then to Aureth, and then away once again. Again his jaw shifts until he finally nods his head once or twice and proceeds to bow his head and apparently provide some prayer of his own, silently.

Ian continues to watch, calm and distant, leaning on his cane. It's hard to tell what, if anything, is going on behind his eyes.

Joscelin runs a hand through her curls and turns to leave, hands in her pockets, cheeks still wet.

When Thesarin offered his arm again, Mia slipped her hand into the crook of it once more. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to one side to let it drop against the Count's shoulder why the invocation was offered. She looked.... tired.

Lark already has her hands against her midsection, and at the end of the funeral, she bows her head. The young woman's lips can be seen to whisper a quiet prayer before she gestures to her retinue. "Please, excuse me," says Lark, politely nodding to those around her. The princess attempts to make a discrete exit as Aureth concludes the funeral, taking the long way around as necessary so as to not disturb those still grieving or reminiscing together.

Lark has left the Paved Patio.

As the final invocation is given, the Prince of Sanctum quiely makes his way out of grounds, leaving those that knew the deceased better to linger and celebrate her life.

Edain has left the Trestle Tables.

Squire Serad Iron Foot leaves, following Edain.

Esoka does not try to involve Thesarin in any kind of multiple person hugging situation. She just answers his shoulder-squeeze with a brief clasp of his arm and leaves it at that. Calaudrin is left to save himself, beyond another (fond) snort. At Aureth's invocation, she bows her head and murmurs a repetition of that last prayer under her breath.

Samantha lets oout a breath, as with the final words, Zhayla is laid to rest. After a few moments of silence in her own thoughts, Samantha announces solemnly, "Deepwood is grateful to all who have come. There is hot cider in the main hall for anyone who wishes to linger." Quietly then, Samantha puts her hand on Rymarr's arm, and once he's ready, has him guide her back inside.

5 Grayson Guardsmen, Crom, an expressive bull-mastiff, Songbird, a dignified war-mastiff leave, following Lark.

Samantha is overheard praising Aureth for: A beautiful and heartfelt ceremony.

Orazio simply watches the grave for a long moment. Then he bows to it, and moves to leave, although not without grave bows of the head to those that he knows.

Orazio is overheard praising Aureth.

Orazio is overheard praising Samantha.

Orazio is overheard praising Rymarr.

Orazio is overheard praising Mae.

Fortunato draws himself standing. He, too, bows toward the grave before moving to depart.

Samantha is overheard praising Mae for: She assisted in the most caring way. She represents the Queen well.

Calaudrin is overheard praising Aureth for: Nice job.

Orazio has left the Paved Patio.

Esoka is overheard praising Samantha for: She gave a heroic prodigal a beautiful home and beautiful resting place.

Aleksei makes sure to return Nara to her parents before Samantha and Rymarr head back inside. He lingers here for a long moment, though, drawing closer to the fresh grave to simply stand with her for a while longer before he finally has to move on.

Mongoose leaves, following Joscelin.

As the gathering breaks up, Ian finally moves away from his spot well out of the way. He watches the ground under his feet as he takes careful steps over the slightly uneven ground over to the grave, where he stops. He looks down at it for a long time before muttering something under his breath. Then he turns to go.

Rymarr is overheard praising Aureth for: He make the words do. The Queen of Endings chose well.

Hana slips out quietly, eyes still red from tears.

Hana has left the Paved Patio.

As people filter out, Mae prays. Silent little words to herself, her eyes shut tight. Finally she stops, then takes a deep breath in, and then slowly lets it out. She straightens up, and her eyes open. She looks more put together after her words, then looks around the gathering once more. She steps away from the front, off to the side, but remains just standing there. Waiting. Watching.

Shard lingers at the back for a few moments. She's watching people again, at least from all appearances.

Fortunato has left the Paved Patio.

Wash has left the Trestle Tables.

Rymarr is overheard praising Mae for: She too make the words do. She knows how to organize a line, keep it moving swiftly, and be a reassuring presence during difficult times.

Wash stands up and nods to Ian. He scans the room for family members, offering them silent support in their grief and heads for the door.

Mia is overheard praising Mae for: Gentle and kind, when it was needed most.

Mia is overheard praising Aureth for: A heartfelt ceremony, for one of our best.

Aleksei has left the Paved Patio.

Keso, a street urchin, Peanut, an oversized mastiff leave, following Aleksei.

Patches, a three-legged mutt, Flame, a chestnut stallion leave, following Tristan.