The funeral (Invite only)

Jarvan listened to Otis as he spoke. He was not surprised that he didn't care about the money, it wouldn't of been a true brotherly bond if he was in it for the money. He knew that Garen would simply laugh if he offered him any sum of money for his services. As Otis spoke of Tybresa needing some time alone, he simply nodded.

"Let us give them privacy General Starr." The prince then turns to follow the lawyer down the hall. "Yes, some hot tea would be nice."

Otis nodded his head in thanks as the Prince urged all the present men to move to another room, leaving but him and the Lady Farrister.

He glanced over to her - Tybresa was being silent now, not even sobbing. She had her head laid back, staring at the ceiling, her blue eyes wide yet expressionless. She would blink her eyes, only to let loose a rolling tear, streaking down her cheek.

Otis made his way slowly next to her, his steps light and almost soundless had it not been for the faulty floor creaking softly underneath his weight. He crouched down in front of where Tybresa was sitting, slouching his back as he finally let the weight of the events burden over his shoulders. He let out a sigh as he glanced downward, speaking in a soft tone.

What has happened to you, Tybresa?

Tybresa breathed in deeply as her eyes snapped into focus, breaking out of the reverie from the darkest corners of her minds. She straightened her pose, looking at Otis with a blank expression, slowly shaking her head sorrowfully. She spoke in a weak, almost inaudible whisper.

How did this happen, Uncle? How ...

Otis stood up on his legs, bringing his hands on her shoulders, shaking her lightly. His voice was firm, but warm.

Tybresa, snap out of it. This is not you - this ... is unlike you to cave in like this.

Otis had to take a step back lest he might have found himself with a slap-mark on his cheek as Tybresa lashed out, screaming hysterically.

WHY?! Why did this happen? How could you let him ...

Her voice trailed out as she began to sob, bringing her hands to cover her face as she curled up, her body trembling like a leaf. Otis sighed to himself and shook his head - wordlessly, he placed his hands firmly underneath Tybresa's arms and raised her up before he brought her into an embrace - she complied without any further resistance, weakly clawing at his vest in her sorrow.

Otis wrapped his arms around her, patting her back affectionately and closing his eyes - despite his humble position as a butler, he proved to be more than that. He was a brother and an uncle, a reliable, unmovable pillar on which the whole house of Farrister was built on. He was there, having witnessed the rise of the Battle Falcon from boyhood to his promotion as a General, he was the best man at his wedding and the godfather of his daughter. He was there when they lost Marcelaine, staying strong while both husband and daughter let themselves be overcome with grief. And he finds himself here now, having outlived his closest friend and brother, left behind to comfort the last of the Farrister line, help her build herself back up and continue living ... as Bryce would have wanted her to.

But to do that, he had to stay strong - he, too, was human and suffering just as much as she did, perhaps even more, despite not showing it. He brought his hands back to Tybresa's shoulders and peeled her off himself as gently as he could before he'd place his hand underneath his chin, making her look at him. Only by staring into her blue eyes could anyone see just how broken she was - her grief was seemingly reaching out to him, drowning him into the depths of the ocean of sorrow. But Otis couldn't allow himself to falter now - he had to be strong, for her sake. His voice was stern as he spoke, but his words came from the bottom of his heart.

Tybresa. Please understand … If there was anything I could have done, I would have ... I would have gladly given my life for his, let my wretched body waste away so that he could be here, on this day and with you at his side …

He stopped for a moment when Tybresa let out a pained, muffled whine, her blue eyes glistening as another tear formed at the corner. He brought one hand to gingerly wipe it away – he couldn’t help but remember doing that before, when she was a child and had scraped her knee after tripping over a stack of books … the memory was fresh, as if it was yesterday. He let out a dejected sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts and rifling through his memories before he continued, this time in a warmer tone.

He cried too, you know… When she died. For weeks he kept to himself, locked away from the rest. I thought we lost him forever.

And even when the shock left and managed to fight back the sorrow and not let it demolish his spirit, I knew he could never be the same man again. Whatever was left of the live, optimistic man I knew was taken by Marcelaine.

The only thing that managed to make him smile ever since….. was you.He always knew you’d be stronger than him. That you took that bit of Noxian resilience from your mother.

And you do - but that doesn’t make you any less human, Tybresa. You are the daughter of the Battle Falcon - the Dragonslayer of Demacia - which is why everyone will expect you to carry your father’s burden and continue standing tall and proud, as one of the many pillars of strength on which our country is built.

I know this doesn’t make the grief any easier to bear, but he was beyond proud of you. He always said you would inherit him and be a better role model than he ever could. That your shoulders can carry more weight than his ever could and continue the family line with dignity and pride.

He let out another sigh, finally letting the weariness show on his posture and face – his shoulders slouched as he frowned, the passage of time visible over each crinkle of his skin. Even his doe-brown eyes, despite unchanged through the ages, seemed to have lost the sly, knowing glimmer characteristic to them …

It’s natural to feel sad child. It’s natural to mourn. But please, at least for him, for her, and for everyone else, try to be strong, Tybresa...

His voice was now a faint whisper, a barely audible plea.

And be strong for me, too.

Tybresa had been silent, unmoving through the whole speech – only the movement of the black dot in the sea of blue and the slow, faint breathing could confirm that she was alive still, listening to the very end. She stared at Otis for what seemed an eternity, before she finally broke the petrified state of mind and embraced him, her head resting on his chest, where his heart lay. This time, however, she did not cry, nor did she wail – she simply squeezed Otis in her embrace, seemingly banishing the invisible weight bearing down his shoulders as he straightened his back. He returned the gesture by warmly patting her back as they stood in silence – there was no need for words, for the hopeful beating of their heart beats was enough to fill the void. Despite not being relatives, the strong bond of family they shared in that moment was enough to finally unfreeze time, the ticking of the clock drowned out by the insistent tipper-tapping of the downpour outside.

...

The one to break the embrace this time was Tybresa, glancing over at the mantel pendulum clock – without looking at Otis, she spoke out in an affected tone.

It is time, Uncle … it is time to say our farewell.

He nodded in reply and took a step back, though his hands were now firmly placed on Tybresa’s shoulders, keeping her from moving.

Indeed – it would be best not to keep them – and him – waiting any longer. But first things first …

She glanced at him, a perplexed look in her eyes. Otis had a knowing smile playing on his features as he lifted his hand over to the back of Tybresa’s head, where her hair was tied into a bun and with one single, expert gesture, undid it, letting her golden locks frame her face and flow over her shoulders.

With all due respect, my lady, but you know how the General felt about having your hair tied up…

Tybresa stifled a chuckle and brushed her fingers through her hair as she adjusted the silver falcon hair-brooch. She spoke out in a thoughtful manner...

I don’t know what House Farrister would have been without you, Uncle.

To that, Otis simply smiled and bowed his head respectfully.
My life to serve the falcons, my lady, just as they once saved my life. Should I go summon their Lordships?

A simple nod was all he needed before he walked down the hallway, Tybresa's gaze weighing over his form as he departed - her expression was thoughtful, seemingly considering something...

Otis stood in the door frame and bowed respectfully, his voice monotone and devoid of any emotions.

My lords. The Lady Farrister is ready to proceed, if you are.


(( Sorry for the delay, I /really/ had to think this through - had to even ask for help and feedback so I wouldn't make it sound bad ... apologies for the wall of text ;_; ))

Otis quirked an amused smile at the Prince's eagerness to proceed, though he kept his tongue at bay - rather, he quickly kept pace with him, walking side by side as he spoke in a low, respectful tone.

My Prince - my sincerest apologies that you had to witness the Lady Farrister's scene of grief. The female sex is far more sensible to such tragic events, and they let their emotions roam freely without the constraints of society and upbringing they were usually used to. I can only hope you understand ...

He bowed his head respectfully before they finally arrived the main room.

...

As Tybresa was waiting for the rest of the entourage to arrive, she looked around the office - Falcon's Wing lay seemingly forgotten on the floor, having fell from her grasp sometime before she had to read the will ... How odd, for she didn't seem to remember it slipping ...

Nevertheless, she shook her head sorrowfully and picked it up, the sword weighing heavily in her arms. She noticed the black veil laying nearby, the material torn when she went in her fit of hysterics. Since it couldn't be used for its initial intent, she rather used it to wrap a ribbon on the handle.

She glanced over at the hallway, hearing the heavy footsteps that could belong to none other than Jarvan IV. She let out a soft sigh and straightened her pose, though she cursed herself for showing her grief so publicly ... there was no point to dwell on that any longer, she thought, as she watched the Prince approach, awaiting for him to speak - for she had nothing else to say to him.

Otis simply nodded at the Prince's words and kept his quiet as they made their way to the reception room - however, there was a knowing smile playing on his lips ...

As for Tybresa, she watched Jarvan approach her with a stern look in her eyes, only for her expression to soften up ever-so-slightly, a small grateful smile appearing on her lips at his gesture. She shifted Falcon's Weight in her other hand so that she may freely wrap her arm around the one he had offered. Without a single word said, she looked into his eyes for one long moment before she nodded. She seemed to urge Jarvan towards the entrance, only for Otis to quickly step in front and bow respectfully.

My lady, it is raining outside - by all means, allow me to get an umbrella and hold it for your Highnesses ...

Tybresa opened her mouth to protest - she would prefer let the rain fall over her and feel its soothing coolness against her cheeks. Among the tears of the sky and her own, nobody would be the wiser - but one glance at Jarvan and she let out a sigh. Alas, for his sake, she would have to concede this caprice ... for the moment, at least. She nodded and the ever-diligent butler had already acquired a great, black umbrella with a finely-polished wooden handle.

With Jarvan at her right side and Otis to her left, there was no reason to linger any longer - they stepped outside, only to be greeted with the downpour washing over the streets, the soft tapping against the umbrella's surface and the fresh breath of humid air. The lawyer's voice was drowned out behind them - not that it mattered anymore, anyway.

Tybresa let out a long, out-drawn sigh and turned towards the direction of the graveyard. She swallowed dryly as she felt her throat tighten, but it did not stop her from speaking that not even the trickling of the rain drops could dim out her words or wash away the heavy-lingering sadness - and wisdom - in them.

We cannot stop nor turn back time - all we can do ... is move onward and let the river run its natural course. Let us proceed and say our farewells.

(( Alrighty, we can skip over the whole road to the graveyard. Feel free to present the graveyard scene once again and the other guests may finally make their appearance as soon as Jarvan posts. ))

So it came down to this... General Bryce Farrister of Demacia funeral's...

Ahri knew that something wasn't right the last time she saw the Steward Tybresa leave the institute in a rush. All of the summoners were chatting about a certain general that lost his life recently at Demacia. Ahri was delighted with such news, she might be able to retrieve his soul for her own benefits. But one name slipped out of a nearby summoner as Ahri walked by next to him and it seemed oddly familiar to her. Farrister... Farrister... Tybresa Farrister! That's it! But wait... Does that mean...?

Unfortunately, yes. That may be one of her family's member. It ached Ahri's heart to know that her target was one of her favorite Steward's family member, but she had her own goals and she couldn't let this get in her way. After all, the man is dead, she won't see him again so it wouldn't cause much harm if she imprisoned his soul before it would get away. Ahri decided to proceed discreetly to avoid getting caught and raise a whole population against her.

The vixen made her way to the beautiful and proud city of Demacia. Everything looked lovely and majestic, radiant and glittery from far away... but the tears of the skies submerged the city as it kept crying endlessly over the fate of the citizens of Demacia. Those black flags that reached for the sky, the sad aura of the people that lurked the crowded streets... It all made it look dark and pained, cold and worried... washing away the beauty of the city that seemed to be radiant from far away. Not a single eye, her gaze met, had any sign of happiness beyond the superficial glass that covered it. It seemed like the very own essence of the city was sapped away from the tragic event that struck the Demacians.

She could feel it. She was getting closer, and closer to her prey. That soul seemed like it waited for her arrival, knowing its inevitable fate. The advantage that Ahri had was that not a single person would expect such a malicious act from the Nine-Tailed Fox herself. Her? An innocent person who finally grew conscious of her horrifying actions she had committed in the past, would take this person's soul away? Every person would say no and this is why Ahri had an advantage over this situation.

Ahri moved through the crowd and made her way to the concerned person that has lost her dear father thanks to her instincts... The woman looked shattered, her spirit was burned, her eyes were covered by the dried tears, the sadness and the pain veiled her figure with a dark shroud of agony. It was not enjoyable to see one of her friends in this state. The vixen carefully walked towards her. Her feet slowly carried her to the woman. As she stood by her, she gazed up at her with her mesmerizing amber eyes. A sad expression took over her eyes, her lips, and all of her facial features as she spoke with a sincere tone.

"Tybresa... I... am deeply sorry for your loss. All of my condolences go to you and your family... I don't know what to say about this but I share your pain as much as I share everyone's sadness due to this tragic day."

Jarvan felt the gloom of the atmosphere all around him. Everything was depressing, perfect for a funeral. He felt Tybresa's resistance and matched her pace. "Just take it slow, I'm here."

Once the prince saw Ahri, his face set into a disapproving frown. He didn't like that she was here, and speaking to the grieving woman no less. He heard that she turned over a new leaf, but that doesn't mean he trusted her. He took a small step in front of Tybresa in order to shield her from Ahri. Rain began to drip down his chest plate.

"Yes, what are you doing here? I don't believe you knew the late general." He inspected her carefully, watching for any sudden moves.

Tybresa blinked her eyes, as if awoken from an odd trance ... her gaze rested on her own reflection on the back of the Prince's golden armor as she stood before her, seemingly glowering at the Fox. And she almost let out a scream at what she saw - what she became...

Was the face staring back at her, with bleary eyes and a shattered expression her own...? She raised one hand to lightly brush against her cheek, holding her breath - just two or three days ago, there used to be a smiling, kind woman with a certain spark in her eyes greeting her whenever she looked into the mirror. Oh, how far those days seemed to be ... when was the last time she genuinely smiled? Laughed, even?

Almost ... she almost felt herself slipping away, had not Otis managed to anchor her back to the present world - he was forever present at her side, holding the umbrella as to not let the rain pour down on her. He had kept a close eye on the interaction and words spoken between the Prince and the Fox, and when the slightest tension could be felt in the air, he subtly cleared his throat as to bring Tybresa's attention to the conversation.

She let out a soft sigh and nodded at him before she reached out to place her hand on the Prince's golden shoulder guard, disregarding the cold rain falling on her hand and sleeve. Her voice was calm and collected, despite herself.

My prince - my champion. I could never repay you for all the care, comfort and concerns you are offering me on this sorrowful day. But I do not see any reason as to mistrust Ahri - after all, she only came to say her condolences ... The fact she found the time in her ... busy schedule to see me is humbling and speak volumes of her sincerity.