It was a cold, dark morning in Demacia. Grey clouds surrounded the sky and blotted out the sun. The groundskeepers for the Demacian cemetery were hard at work to make it look pristine. Headstones were cleaned, the grass was trimmed, and flowers were planted. Today's ceremony would take place in a specially reserved portion of the cemetery. The burial site of a family that rose high, like a falcon greeting the great blue sky, only to return to the earth whence it came.
A statue was already standing guard over the last earthy remains of Marcelaine Farrister, wife of the dearly departed and mother of the Senior Steward of the League, Tybresa. It was a detailed and beautifully-carved masterpiece, portraying a woman in armor holding a pair of slightly curved swords. At the base where the tips met would be a helmet belonging to the same set of armor the statue was set into, where the ashes of Marcelaine were safeguarded within. Lower down the pedestal two golden plaques with beautiful graving could read ' Marcelaine Farrister, beloved wife and mother of the proud Falcons of Demacia - you will be sorely missed by your beloved ones, and we shall meet again in the heavens.'
Jarvan IV was personally in charge of making sure everything went according to plan. Any worker seemed to become infinitely better at their trade when a Lightshield was present. A cool breeze kicked up at nipped at the prince's nose and ears. Every time he took a breath out a puff of white steam would be emitted. When it is cold out like this is the only time the prince is glad to have his armor on. The groundskeepers put in place the headstone for the departed, next to the statue of the warrior-woman. It was a stone carving of a man standing over the body of a slain dragon. "That had better be straight, this is commemorating a war hero." A few workers began to dig a place for the headstone while others ran back to direct in case it was not straight.
The prince crossed his arms in front of his chest as he waited for the men to be finished. Once they were done placing the headstone Jarvan started his inspection. The grave itself was dug into a perfect rectangle. The headstone was perfectly aligned and at the right height. The flowers that adorned the grave were symmetrical and of great health. Jarvan nodded in approval. "Good work boys".
Today we lay to rest a war hero of Demacia. Today we lay to rest General 'Battle Falcon' Bryce Farrister.
Post by Tahlem Starr on Mar 7, 2013 2:57:04 GMT -5
Tahlem wore a officers uniform on this bleak day, appropriate for the funeral of a war hero and friend. It appeared even the heavens mourned with them this day, the sky bleak and dark. Approaching the cemetery held grim faced individuals, honoring loved ones or attending the funeral of the recently deceased General Bryce Farristar. Even a dragon slayer can not escape death...may he find eternal peace.
Tahlem approached the funeral sight to examine what was being put in place. A fantastic statue in his honor was most appropriate, and next to the one he loved dearest. He read the statues message and nodded to no one in particular after, moving towards Jarvan. He walked slowly beside the prince, placing a hand on his shoulder for a moment then removing it.
" Today the heavens mourn with us my Lord." He said solemnly. Tahlem brought up a sword and unsheathed it, showing it to the prince. " I brought his sword, a warrior would feel empty without it by his side." And then he re-sheathed it.
Last Edit: Mar 7, 2013 2:59:36 GMT -5 by Tahlem Starr
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 7, 2013 9:59:29 GMT -5
Meanwhile, within Manor Farrister ...
A handful servants were wandering aimlessly around the manor, making sure that not a single speck of dust had laid on the furniture or that the flowers were positioned at a right angle in their vases. The events of the day is weighting heavily on each of them, their movements slow and aloof as they were anxiously waiting for their mistress to appear at the top of the stairs.
Tybresa was still in her room, standing in front of a wide mirror, wearing a modest black gown, with no jewelries adorning her figure - not even the choker she always wore so proudly, marking her privileged status within the League of Legends. She didn't come to Demacia as a Steward of the League - no, she arrived as a grieving daughter, preparing to attend her father's last rites.
Her clumsy and unfocused hands were trying to tie her long, golden hair into a standard demacian bun, but she would often find herself starting all over again, a sigh escaping her lips as her mind was wandering elsewhere.
Gone. He is gone. She used to come home and be welcomed at the very gates of Demacia by her father and walk with her home, side-by-side, their worries abolished by the warm bond that only family members can share.
Now, she arrived only to find the once-welcoming figure gone, replaced by a royal entourage to escort her to the manor, speaking petty words of condolences and comfort, as if that could ever replace the missing link. Now, she would walk side-by-side with her father on his last path towards his place of rest, surrounded by strangers who think they know the sorrow she is bearing - ...
A barely-audible knock was heard before a servant, a girl of modest appearance, would enter the chamber, bowing deeply before speaking in a soft and reverent tone.
My lady - the preparations are made and awaiting your orders.
Tybresa let out a loud sigh, giving up on her hair, but before she could turn around, the maid promptly appeared behind her, tying up her hair into a beautiful but simple bun of spun gold. The summoner simply nodded her head gratefully and walked to the nightstand where a black silken veil and a beautifully-crafted hair brooch in the shape of a falcon were resting. She slid the brooch in the folds of her hair and placed the veil over her face. The serving girl let out a small gasp of admiration. Luckily for Tybresa, the veil was making it hard for her pained expression to be seen underneath. She spoke calmly, not betraying the emotions stirring within.
Anna, tell the servants that they are free for the day and tomorrow. Let them spend their time with their family rather than be preoccupied with mine.
The maid nodded dutifully, though her eyes widened in surprise.
As it is you wish, my lady. Would you want me to hail a carriage? It looks like it would rain -...
No. I would rather walk. It would be the proper thing to do.
But, my lady-...
I said no, Anna. You are dismissed.
The girl simply nodded and scurried out of the room, spreading the word. Tybresa was angry at herself - she didn't want to snap at her maid, considering she was only worrying for her. Everyone was. The servants have been serving General Farrister faithfully for years, her father treating them well, never hesitating to praise when they deserved so.
She walked to the mirror one last time, taking a good look at her reflection. Indeed, the veil wasn't letting anything show on her face, though the blue of her eyes could still be seen through.
No matter. They won't be seeing her cry. It wouldn't be proper for a lady of Demacia to cry.
....
Time passed slowly on that day - it felt like ages since the scene with the maid had happened in Tybresa's chambers, but now she was standing in front of the cemetery gates, wide open and welcoming anyone to enter on the sacred burial grounds of Demacia's generations of noble citizens and esteemed rulers.
It took Tybresa only a quarter of an hour to reach this place - a surprising fact, considering all the people stopping and saying their condolences and words of comfort or simply bowing deeply as she passed. Even though the citizens meant well, she couldn't help but hate them for it - they act as if they care, but do they truly know what she is going through?
Not that it matters anymore - it would have been rude for a lady of Demacia's esteemed circle to not thank each and every one for their kind words, so the walk to the graveyard had progressed slowly.
Tybresa took a deep breath and entered the graveyard, making her way up the path where her mother was resting, and where her father would join her soon.
As she approached, she was thankful once more for wearing a veil, covering her pained expression, noticing two men standing close to the Farrister's portion of the cemetery. She couldn't identify one of the men from the distance, but the other was unmistakeable. It is hard not to notice the shining golden armor despite the clouded, dark sky, or the tall and proud posture that could only be attributed to the royal blood of the Lightshields.
She knew that he would attend - after all, her father was a loyal subject of the king - but she didn't expect Prince Jarvan to arrive so early. She was hoping for a couple of moments alone, bracing herself for the funeral.
No matter, she thought as she continued on her path - a lady isn't supposed to cry, after all.
Jarvan turned his head when he felt someone grasp his shoulder. It was Tahlem, an old friend of his. He nodded at his friend's words. "Yes it would seem so. Indeed his sword is of great importance, the ceremony wouldn't be complete without it. The Battle Falcon was a great man, he deserves a grand goodbye."
He then notices a flower wilting and he kneels to try and fix it. "When his daughter arrives we will discuss what she wants us to do with the sword."
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 7, 2013 15:45:45 GMT -5
Tybresa had already approached the men from behind, managing to keep unnoticed as she heard the bits of conversations - something about a sword ...
She eyed the man standing next to the Prince, inspecting his features from behind, but she cannot pinpoint him to anyone she might have met or could be associated as a friend of her father's. However, the sword resting at his belt is unmistakeable - that would be Falcon's Wing, the late General's sword.
Thinking about her father always brought the strong urge to slump down on her knees and weep her heart out, but she bit her lower lip painfully, drawing blood.
A lady does not cry.
As soon as she was within a couple of steps away from the men, she stops and clears her throat.
Jarvan hears the soft voice of a woman and he stands at attention in response. He turns to see Tybresa, the daughter of the man he is honoring. "Oh, hello miss. I wasn't expecting you to arrive until later." He takes a step closer to her in order to inspect her face. "We have your father's sword, Falcon's Wing. What do you want us to do with it? As his next of kin you have the right to decide. We could bury it with your father or we could place it on his statue. Or would you prefer we do something else with it?"
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 10, 2013 4:57:09 GMT -5
Tybresa pursed her lips together as she listened to the Prince address her, flinching slightly when he took a step closer. She wasn't sure what he was trying to do - there was no way to see past the black silken veil covering her face and there wasn't anything special to her blue eyes...
Unless he saw the dribble of blood flowing from her lower lip. She quickly raised her right hand to her mouth, wiping her bloody lip with the sleeve of her dress. There was no way he could notice that - the red color of blood was almost unnoticeable on the black of the cloth.
Her eyes quickly dart at the sword resting in its sheath at the other man's belt. She took a deep breath and spoke calmly.
I fear that the sword's fate will have to wait - my father's will has yet to be read and I do not wish to make a hasty decision without consulting his last wishes. I am more than certain he thought about Falcon Wing's future after his death. But I prefer to be at ease knowing I followed his decision.
She extended her hand towards the man currently possessing the sword.
With all due respect, I would ask that you hand me the sword. I think it would be appropriate that I hold onto it, as his daughter and heir.
Post by Tahlem Starr on Mar 11, 2013 0:08:28 GMT -5
Tahlem listened to their exchange and bowed to Tyberesa when he was addressed. "General Tahlem miss. My condolences. I worked with your father in the military. He was a good man." Tahlem slid his hand to his belt and unclipped the sword, turning it to its side and offering it to the girl. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship. Fit for the greatest of warriors and perfect enough to slay any dragon. " It is right that his daughter should carry the weapon." When she took the sword he would nod. Today is a sad day for the lot of them. He could only empathize with how she would be feeling though. " Am sorry for your loss." He said solemnly.
Last Edit: Mar 11, 2013 0:09:30 GMT -5 by Tahlem Starr
When she flinched, Jarvan took a step back. "I meant no disrespect. I could not see your face, I wanted to try and see how you were fairing. I know how it is to lose someone you love. I was just a child when my grandfather Jarvan II died. I locked myself in my chambers and they had to break the door open to make sure I was alright."
"If you would like we could return to the funeral home to read his will. The actual service won't be until later this afternoon."
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 11, 2013 7:45:03 GMT -5
Tybresa nodded at Tahlem and curtsied.
Ah, my apologies for not recognizing you, General Tahlem, I fear we haven't met before. My father spoke highly of you - quite skilled with the sword, I was told. He said you were one of the few people that gave him a challenge on the sparring ring.
When he offered the sword for her to take, she didn't hesitate - Falcon's Wing seemed so heavy and clumsy in her small, fragile hands. She unsheathed and revealed the blade, crafted so that it would depict the wing of a falcon, beautifully detailed with feathers that would give the blade a jagged edge. Tybresa would slide her finger on the surface, stopping at a noticeable crack right in the middle. She smiled to herself.
Gentlemen, if you would look closely, this is where the dragon bit the Falcon's Wing - proof that not even the sharpest teeth could break the Wings of Farrister - we are one with the sky, as it is our motto.
With one hand, she raised the point of the sword towards the sky, her voice saddened.
And now my father truly is up there, his soul soaring freely through the clouds and basking in the sun's warm rays.
She sheathed the sword and held it close to her chest. She began to ease up - these men seemed to truly express genuine concern for her sorrow.
Thank you for your kind words, General.
She turned to look at the Prince - even though he wouldn't be able to see her smile, her blue eyes glimmer with gratitude.
I know you mean only the best, my Prince - for all your fierceness on the Fields of Justice, it is clear that not only your armor is made of shining gold, but your heart as well. The concern you show for me is humbling, but I assure you - I shall be fine. I am indeed hurting, but I will keep on being strong, for that is what my father would have wanted - a falcon doesn't stop flying even through the storm.
She sighed. I was even younger than your majesty when your high-esteemed Grandfather passed away, but I have brief memories about it - Demacia mourned for more than three days. Although I assure you, you would not have to break down the door of the manor - I shall be fine ... I hope.
She hesitated a few moments, steadying her voice.
I had intended to come and see with my own eyes how the preparations were going, but with your noble presence around these grounds, the workers are doing a far better job than underneath my watch. If my Prince commands it, then I will obey - let us make our path towards the funeral house and see what my father had in store for both Falcon's Wing and I.
Post by Tahlem Starr on Mar 13, 2013 13:53:29 GMT -5
Tahlem listened to her speak about her father and the sword. He was quite the swordsman and even he envied Falcons Wing. A sword that can survive a bite from a dragon is a well made weapon indeed.
Then is mind wandered back to Jarvan IIs death. The entire city was in mourning and it seemed the sky mourned with us for three days. The Lightsheilds were good people and good Monarchs.
When she talked of the funeral home he turned to the prince and bowed slightly. " Lead the way, My lord."
Jarvan grins when Tybresa seems to loosen up a little. "The Lightshield family is sworn to protect the people of Demacia. I do what I can to help the people, most of the time it is at the expense of my own body. I have many scars from when we fought before the League. Your father and I fought beside one another many times. I took comfort in knowing he had my back." His appearance became a little more serious though when she spoke of not knowing if she would be alright or not. "I may not be a doctor, but I will help you if you ask for it."
The prince then politely extends an arm to the grieving woman. "Let us be off then." He escorts Tybresa and Tahlem to the funeral home.
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 14, 2013 5:58:08 GMT -5
Tybresa smiled underneath her veil as the Prince spoke, fondly remembering the stories her father would regale her during his time on the battlefields. She nods her head and speaks.
I already had knowledge of your prowess in battle, my Prince - my father would speak admiringly of you whenever he came back from battle. He always liked to spin tales from his experiences on the battle fields ...
She let out a soft sigh, her voice betraying a slight trace of sadness. Do not let me burden your shoulders any further by concerning yourself over me, your Highness - you would not need to be a doctor to raise my spirits, or the spirits of any other demacian. Seeing you fight on the Fields of Justice or gracing your noble presence around the citizens of Demacia is enough to fill my heart with joy and pride - indeed, you are the Exemplar of our city-state.
She nods gratefully as the Prince politely extends his arm to her and gracefully wraps her arm around his. Lead the way, my prince, and we shall follow - now and forever.
She smiled again and spoke softly as they made their way to the funeral house. I remembered something he used to say - no man could be as lucky as your esteemed father for having such a son. The Battle Falcon truly respected you, your Highness, and had high hopes to continue serving underneath your reign.
She let out an involuntary sob, her grasp over the Prince's arm tightening slightly. Oh, how I wish that his hope could have come true...!
Jarvan can't help but smile when she speaks of him raising the spirits of the Demacians. "It is my family's role to not only rule over and protect the people of this fair nation, but to also comfort and support them. My father always taught me that being a good ruler means caring for your citizens. He was strict on me when I was a child, but it was necessary for the man I must become."
As they walk to the funeral home he notices her little sob. "I am deeply sorry. Your father was a great man and deserves every bit of respect as I can give him. I can't imagine what it will be like when my father dies. Not only will I have to deal with the grief, but I will also have to rule a nation while doing so. I will have to set my emotions aside for the greater good of the people."
When they approach the funeral home a servant quickly opens the door for them. He ushers her inside and out of the cold and gets her situated in a seat at the solicitor's desk. "We are hear to read the will of the departed General 'Battle Falcon' Bryce Farrister."
Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Mar 19, 2013 13:09:05 GMT -5
Tybresa would only nod as the Prince spoke, her thoughts scattered. She couldn't help feeling hollow inside, no matter how much people would try to comfort her with their words and sympathies ...
Her attention snapped back to the world as she found herself seated in front of the solicitor's desk, blinking several times. She caught the last fragments of the Prince's words.
... departed General 'Battle Falcon' Bryce Farrister.
Heavens have mercy on my soul - even the Prince, the very Exemplar of Demacia, acknowledges that he is gone. So why can't I ...?
The lawyer, a short and balding man, nodded at the Prince's request, opening his suitcase with papers stacked within. He turned to look at Tybresa, smiling sympathetically.
My sincerest condolences to you, Lady Farrister - your father was a great man, a real inspiration to Demacia and its citizens...
He cleared his throat and sat down, taking out a large roll of paper, the Farrister seal wax still unbroken.
Yes, well ... as your request, we can proceed to read the will of the deceased. Unless, there are any objections ...?
Tybresa could feel the gazes of the people present weighting heavily on her, seemingly to hold their breath as they awaited her approval. She simply laid back on the chair, swallowing back a sob. Time seemed to pass so slowly ...
She knew that there wouldn't be any turning back once the seal was broken and the will made known - if that seal is broken, it means that everyone, the demacian society, the whole of Valoran would acknowledge the passing of the Battle Falcon.
Tybresa held her breath, delaying her answer - perhaps, a miracle would happen, something that would tell her that this was a dream, this wasn't happening, that her father would be waiting for her, alive and smiling, at the gates of the city ...
(( Simply delaying the reading of the will so Tahlem can make his appearance anytime soon :p ))
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