Post by Liliana Daysworn on Apr 24, 2014 14:28:16 GMT -5
Liliana received no word on the details of her sister's death, only that the window had been found wide open and that it would undoubtedly be a closed-casket funeral. Though it didn't appear to phase her at all when she had been told such a thing, only a simple incline of her chin to indicate that she had heard and a smile that did not quite reach even the closest corners of her lips. She was helped into her garb consisting of black, black and even more black. The dress was long, not uncommon to what she was used to but even her clothes felt wrong and out of place.
Her father had warned her that the Prince would be attending and Liliana was prepared with a simple letter nestled deep in her mind, this time signed off with her own name. He deserved an apology, and much more. He deserved to know what happened to Eric, but she did not want to slander her own father's name especially to the Prince. He deserved to know where Tianna really was and why, but she did not want the Prince's last memory of her to be so disgraceful. He deserved so many things and yet the only thing she could offer was a mere apology.
The funeral was to be held in the main city and the carriage which brought them there looked grander than the people it encompassed. Liliana sat opposite her mother who was looking quite stricken - is my lipstick smudged, dear? - and her father who gave her secret looks and warnings at every turn the horses made. She shook her head at the inquiry and avoided eye contact all at the same time. The journey there lasted an eternity, rickety and certainly not lacking in a terrible cloud of great gloom that hung over one person in particular. Even when they arrived, it seemed to follow her out of the carriage as she made her way to her designated place.
Liliana had never been to a funeral and never in her life did she expect to attend her own sister's with her parents in tow. She gripped her dress tightly, her eyes glued firmly on the casket and the quick streaks of tears began to run down her cheeks. There was no feeling anymore, only the sadness that swam in dark circles in the air around her and the guilt that lay heavy on her breast. She cried simply because there were no words to describe it.
The words of comfort drowned out the silence and Liliana lowered her head as they fell on the deaf ears beside her.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Apr 28, 2014 20:34:06 GMT -5
Soft chirping invaded his room in the morning. Flowers, silently replaced, filled his bedroom with a gentle scent. He was awake and ready before anyone came looking for him, sitting at his empty desk, staring at the door. There was mail, and he forced himself to go through it. There would be no more messages from Tianna, but then perhaps there never where. If she had given him a sign, any hint at her pain, he couldn't find it. He had read and reread her letters, looking for something to justify the guilt he felt. The lack of confirmation only left him feeling empty, and the emptiness persisted through the night and into the morning. He went through the motions, trying to put on a strong front for his attendants and guards, but his heart wasn't in it. He though of how she had hidden her pain, and it deepened his frustration and set him in a grim mood.
He was angry. Bits and pieces of her story had filtered through the palace staff, the nobility abuzz with speculation. Most said she had been raped by some commoner, and the shame drove her to it. It was the most popular theory among the nobility, being easy for them to believe that a commoner would commit such a crime, and that the shame of it would be so deep as to drive her to suicide. Some said she had slipped, citing that no note had been found. One account claimed that she was trying to climb out of the window to run away with a lover. None of it was easy for Jarvan IV to swallow. She hadn't said a word that gave him pause, and yet she was dead. It burned him, that this could happen in Demacia. Rape, to someone so close to him, outraged him.
He was powerless. Without warning or farewell another person had disappeared from life. He remembered writing to her, telling her that he wished Eric had asked for his help, had given him a chance to make right whatever had caused him to run. Here again, he was left in the dark, and short another friend. It made him question is strength, the strength of his words, and even the bond he had with those close to him. He wanted to write her a letter that was full of sympathy and sorrow, and one full of anger and questions. It was pointless without a forwarding address.
The funeral was held in the city. The Prince was borne to the cemetery by royal carriage, his guards taking the seats surrounding him like a wall of armor between him and the other grievers. He wore black as all present, his thoughts consuming all of his attention. He hardly noticed who was present, let alone Daysworn family, seated closest to the ceremony. He had no words for the dead and less thought for the living. He watched quietly as the Daysworn elder addressed those gathered. The family colors were laid over Tianna's casket, and her short story told. He listened, not sure he ever knew her.
Post by Liliana Daysworn on Apr 30, 2014 11:31:48 GMT -5
Try as she might, Liliana could not avoid the inevitable speech. It was only fitting, after all, that she speak at her own sister's funeral yet her throat was much to dry to manage even a hoarse croak. She was taken by the hand, her body obeying immediately at the gentle coaxing as she was lead to the front. She swallowed thickly, her eyes shimmering with tears as she glanced at the audience before her. People she barely knew and people she didn't know looked back, dressed in black and dark blues: women with their handkerchiefs pressed to their faces clutched tight in their midnight gloves and the men as stoic as ever.
Liliana grasped the wooden stand tightly, shutting her eyes briefly against the stares, finding her voice and the courage to continue. She should speak from the heart, she told herself. Be honest, be kind. Be honest. Be kind. The young girl peeked open, and the unfeeling gaze of her father gripped her. She opened her mouth and inhaled lightly. There was no room for honesty, but really, would he stop her if she spoke of more than she should?
"Tianna was made of dreams," she began, the threads of her words already breaking into pieces as she desperately held onto the precious memories that had begun to swim in her befuddled mind. "She liked to reach for the stars and beyond. She was carefree, doing whatever she pleased because it pleased her and if it meant snatching the moon from its cradle, then that's what she'd do." Liliana managed to smile hesitantly, "When we were younger, she would always be the one to lead us through the tall grass or be the first to pat the strange horses. If not for her, I would still be a meek little girl. But she always managed to bring a smile to my -- our -- faces."
Liliana locked eyes with her father, "Wherever she is, I hope she is surrounded by the very stars we admired and I know that there is nothing holding her back now. Thank you, Tianna, for all your lessons and for your companionship. Thank you."
Though the speech was spoken in soft tone, her words seemed to echo in her own ears and she turned towards the casket. Liliana placed her hand on the top, her fingers stroking the decorated surface, feeling but blind to the ornate, gilded swirls before parting with final, whispers words. "I'm sorry," before returning to her seat.
The rest of the wake continued with people coming forth to offer their condolences, saying farewell and other such things but Liliana was unaware of it all. She had been seated, staring at her hands for the past half hour and it was only when the bells began to ring did she look up slowly. The casket was being taken away, as per her father's orders. Devrin Daysworn did not want the funeral to last any longer than a day and so Tianna was to be buried within the city.
Liliana could only follow, but not before glimpsing a face that was vaguely familiar to her and with a start recognized him as the Prince of Demacia. Except the recognition was far from surprise -- he and her sister had been exchanging letters after all... or at least, that's what he thought. It was a difficult emotion to swallow; a mixture of guilt, sadness, depression and more guilt slammed into her gut and she stumbled briefly over her heels before managing to catch her balance.
She did attempt to push those invasive thoughts away. Tianna came first.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on May 12, 2014 20:05:00 GMT -5
Sweet smells wafted from the many flowers arrayed on the grounds. Anyone reading the names attached to those gifts would find the daunting arrangement sent by the Prince, and seen it for nothing more than a Royal's obligatory gesture. Among the smells there were no voices, no soft murmurs as Liliana spoke. Only the wind dared to distract from her, rustling apologetically through the ceremony. The crowd was solemn and silent, touched by the life she gave to the memory of her sister despite how sheltered both sisters were from the world outside Daysworn walls. Those closest were relatives and nobility, as those servants or commoners let attend formed the perimeter of the mourners. In the center, no doubt a placement long thought, Jarvan IV faced the full impact of Liliana's eulogy.
Inescapable death, that constant companion of a soldier at war, had neither damaged nor hardened the heart of a boy born to send soldiers to die. The man he had become was vaguely toughened by the knowledge of things worth dying for, things that required sacrifice and freely paid. He had grieved for friends and loved ones lost, but reveled in their bravery and their sacrifice. Instead, here was a death born from sadness and cruelty, in the city he was bound to protect, the city were the crime of rape could have no retribution too swift.
Liliana's emotions were as plain as day, and her words were not lost on the Prince. In his chest was an overflowing sympathy for a sister's loss and a shame that was wholly unexpected, that he could consider himself wronged when there were others hurting much more deeply. How arrogant was he to think that his loss should be expressed. What had he done? Exchanged letters with a girl for a few weeks? He had no rights to hold himself wronged in the shadow of her family's pain.
When, as unspoken as it was reality, a line formed to speak condolences to the Daysworn household, Jarvan IV was at a loss for words. What could he say that would not seem empty and forced, that he had met her one time and written a few more. So he simply watched, all the time aware of the eyes and attentions of those around him, drawn like iron to a lodestone, eyes that should have been watching the casket as it was carried away, thoughts that should have been of Tianna's sister and parents. He bore it knowing that his presence could not crowd out the last event of Tianna Daysworn's life. He was quiet, letting the people clear from around him, slowly. This was better than not knowing.
Post by Liliana Daysworn on May 14, 2014 10:08:09 GMT -5
As the crowd thinned into little more than groups of two or three dwindling in the empty room, Liliana merely stared as the procession of people filed past in silence. Though this funeral was as quiet as those in her thoughts, she didn't think it would be this sparse. It was almost as if not just happiness and joy, but emotion too was being tugged away and all that was left was this constricting feeling of nothing. Try as she might, she could not follow the last boot of black as it crossed the door and out into the open and try as she might, she could not shake her head free from the fog of guilt that came with the familiar glints of gold.
Liliana approached the Prince when it felt like the majority of the stares had vanished, though she was certain there were pairs of eyes judging her from afar. "Prince Jarvan," she said softly, perhaps not to startle him though it seemed more like he was both distracted yet acutely aware of his surroundings. As common as it was to have an audience, she supposed that he was no less comfortable with it. At least, that was what she would like to believe and she realized now her image of the Prince had changed vastly through a few simple letters exchanged over brief weeks.
The twinge returned, tugging at her conscience. Words that were not meant for her flitting about her head, unwanted in this moment of concentration. Liliana shook her head clear, not wanting to look the fool in front of the Prince. "It is an honor to... to have you here," she began, and though she felt so familiar with him, it was because of it that she felt the need to be cautious.
It was a strange feeling. Guilt mixed with sadness, loss and perhaps a hint of irritation at those who had their attentions fully upon her. Despite her name, people had no delusions about her father and assumed unfairly that the entire house of Daysworn was similar if not exactly the same. To them, striking up a conversation with the Prince could only mean that the last daughter of Devrin Daysworn was attempting to snuggle up to Demacia's royal family.
At this, she drew herself up. "Tianna would have been happy to know that you care enough..." Liliana continued, catching shallow breaths as she held back the mixture of tears and defiance at her own name. She needed to tell him, she thought. He needed to know. The Prince had the right to know and certainly, it was wrong of her to take her own sister's name under false pretense. "But I am afraid," she said, her voice a pitch lower, "I must confess something to you." Her hands went to her skirt, fiddling with the silky fabric with shaky fingers. Saying it out loud seemed to have brought her confidence down more than a few notches.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jul 26, 2014 23:18:52 GMT -5
He felt the grass breaking under his heavy boot as he stood, carefully approaching the end of their row of seating. Again it was an ordeal. If he had stood earlier, the crowded center line would have parted for him before he'd even straightened up and pressed themselves uncomfortably together to make way. As it was, the few still present felt the need to do the same, waiting with unwelcome bows for him to take his place in the procession. It was with the same confusion that he received Liliana, his annoyance washed away.
She stepped forward, and her eyes held something beyond grief that he couldn't place. He almost knelt when she came, but her urgency stopped him short. She had stepped too far from the rest of her family who were still receiving condolences as a group. He glanced at Lord Daysworn before she spoke, calling his full attention in.
An honor to have him. It was a meager comfort, but still that. He watched Lilana struggle to speak, struggle to breath the words she was searching for. When she used her sister's name it was as if she knew about the letters and Jarvan IV briefly thought that the two had spoken of him. Then, the looked so alike is many ways and must have been very close. He felt a momentary pang of wonder at the thought of having someone like that to confide in, but her next words stole it away. Confess? He didn't know how to react. Here she was nearly falling to pieces in front of him and he was powerless to comfort her. Guilt welled up in him. What could she have to confess? He saw her arms drop and her hands fidget, in that way people often do when they're struggling with their emotions. Whatever it was, he had no inclination.
"In private?" He looked at the crowd present and those still waiting to speak with her, but turning back to her face he had no reservations. "Come with me." He offered his arm, turning to one side as he eye'd the quiet green beside the road where carriages lined the cobblestone, waiting.
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