The funeral (Invite only)

(( Okay so it seems that the Funeral has died (heh) without a satisfying end that would’ve fulfilled the goal I had in mind with it … Allow me to give it the finish it deserves.))

Time had passed so slowly on that day, it was hard to distinguish whether the frowns on the people that attended were of genuine sorrow for those the deceased had left … or simply disgruntled with the delay. Glances were thrown to and fro, from the small crypt where the General would find his rest place, to the gates of the Graveyard where the casket would be expected to arrive anytime now.

At least the rain ceased pouring from the sky, the clouds having shed their tears and finally allowed several rays of hopeful warmth to pierce through the dark-grey veil and onto the people below. Tybresa swallowed dryly as she dared to gaze skyward, feeling the light wash over her black veil in a vain attempt of comfort. A rueful smile crept over her lips – she would have cursed at the sun if she could – does it not know there would be nothing to comfort her on this day? That there would be nothing to fill the emptiness in her soul, even if the world was offered to her on a silver platter?

She bowed her head, trying her best to choke back the tears she felt rushing – she despised this feeling. Of … hollowness and apathy, of guilt and regret … and she hated the fact she could not let them out, to show the world just what she thought of it during those moments.

To her side, Otis Savrin let out a heavy sigh as he noticed Tybresa’s contained attempts at mourning – he too, hated this feeling that seemed to plague him. One would have figured that he was used to it, after all he had gone through in his life … but Fate was cruel to remind him just how wrong he had been to think something so superficial. He was holding his Lord and friend’s sword, Falcon’s Wing in one hand – he had wielded it on several occasions, but never before did it feel so heavy, as if it was trying to pull him into the bowels of the earth, to let the ground cover over him and suffocate the pain and sorrow in its warm, motherly embrace …

No, he told himself. I am not going to die yet. Not before my debt is repaid. He glanced at Tybresa’s black-clad form next to him, and reached out to touch her shoulder with his hand before letting it rest there, a silent reminder that he would be at her side – until the end.

Tybresa exhaled wearily and automatically raised her own hand to rest over that of her Uncle’s, reassuring him that she was still there … and not somewhere else. She raised her gaze and glanced towards the graveyard entrance with a surprised, almost incredulous expression. The funeral carriage had arrived, draped with black silk and banners that represented the state of Demacia and House of Farrister, as well as countless crowns of white flowers tastefully arranged over the mortuary casket, with speckles of color from other flowers thrown by the citizens as it had passed the streets, their silent goodbyes, regrets and condolences.

“By … the Heavens.” A husky whisper escaped past Tybresa’s trembling lips as she felt her vision go blurry from the tears that remained on her eyelashes. She began shivering, gradually becoming more intense as the carriage drew closer up to a halt, before the graveyard keepers would pick up the duty of taking the General to his final resting place. Otis pursed his lips together, feeling a pang of regret cut through him – he would have wanted to be one of the young men that held the weight of the coffin on his shoulders … But he wasn’t young any longer and his back would’ve most likely suffered from it. Not to mention, he couldn’t bear himself to leave the side of Bryce’s grieving daughter.

“Steady, Tybresa.” His voice reached her ears, trying to embolden her long enough – the message that Otis intended to say was subliminal. He was telling her to hold on, to just wait until the ceremony would be over, before she would allow herself to mourn openly in the privacy of their home. His hand squeezed her shoulder almost painfully so as he tried to force her to assume a straight position.

And she obeyed as easily as a puppet, having lost her will to fight. And there was nothing to fight against – Otis was, perhaps, the most level-headed person she had ever met in her entire life. Nothing seemed to surprise him and nothing shook him from his steadfastness. She almost believed he didn’t feel anything … but a look in his doe-brown eyes, and she knew well enough that the man was suffering as well … perhaps almost the same like she did.

A weary sigh was the only sound to be heard from Lady Farrister as she watched the convoy arrive at the Mausoleum and prepare to lower the coffin in the freshly-dug grave. She knew her father would have wanted a simple, traditional demacian burial, but it seemed almost unimaginable not to honor his passing as befit a man of his position and courage. She wondered whether he would have wanted to be buried in the graveyard where his parents and family were resting … but it seemed too late to wonder about it now. The coffin was lowered …

She felt the gazes of the people suddenly weight on her again – they were looking at her expectantly, hoping for a farewell speech from her side. But they quickly averted their eyes, knowing that it would be too much to ask of her, considering her sorry state of mind … She turned her head slightly towards Otis, peering at him from the corner of her eye – she blinked and finally managed to shed the tear that clung to her eyelashes and blurred her vision. He looked back at her, though it was hard to meet her eyes through the black veil that covered her face, even though she initially tore it off in a fit of hysterical sorrow back at the Funeral House. Almost unnoticeable, Otis nodded his head solemnly.

That was all she needed – Tybresa took steady steps forward until she was dangerously standing at the very edge of the grave, staring down at the polished wood the casket was built of, barely noticeable by the heavy amounts of flowers covering it. She felt her heart shrink and wither in her chest at the sight … but she took a deep breath, for composure. Voice, don’t fail me now. Please, please, please … she frantically begged whatever divinities above to help her for what she would do.

She closed her eyes and raised her head, parting her lips as she exhaled loudly, before inhaling again, this time shaky words in what one would consider a mix between a speech, a melody and a poem emerging from her mouth.

“A lonely falcon is flying on the open sky … Can no longer see the tears that I cry. Today we lay one of our greatest to rest - even among heroes, he was one of the best. A nightingale came to me in one of my dreams – she reassured me, not everything is as sad as it seems … Illusions and dreams cannot mend what I feel, pinned up cruelly against fate’s turning wheel.”

She let a heart wrenching sob interrupt the ode to her father, but she quickly picked it up again, her voice shaking and laden with sorrow.

“Foes he’d challenge, dragons he would slay, never faltering, roaring ‘Come what may!’ His will lighting up the night through sword and spirit, looking upon us all from above, knowing our merit. A Demacian who was always fighting where his heart held strong - to this day we honor him, through our tears, through our song. Bravery everlasting. Courage second to none. A trait passed to his children. His legacy goes on. His shackles of loyalty, binding blindly him to his city state … yet, despite his duty, he found love by disregarding noxian hate.”

A wave of murmurs rose for a moment, seeming quite incredulous to hear those last words – had she just admitted her mother’s heritage? Did the General fraternize with the enemy … during the war? Tybresa, however, quelled the rising gossip as she turned to face the crowd, screaming out ruefully as she pointed accusingly at them.

“Who is anyone to condemn a man finding happiness?! If anything, getting what he wanted was only justice! A family forged through the flames of conflict. A family created by defying any logical verdict!”

She exhaled – now that her rage lashed out, it returned back to the deepest pits, where it belonged. She let out a loud sigh and faced the grave again, her words chocked out by sobs and barely an audible whisper.

“S-so… on t-this day we sing of our tragedy. Feeling only loss … the pain fades in time, but we must not forget his cause. In remembrance of my blood. Whether I’m in peace or going to war …”

“I’ll always remember my name. I’ll always be proud to be a Farrister…”

---

Time seemed to pass Tybresa by after the burial, having been barely aware as the people present at the funeral approached her to send their heartfelt condolences one more time, to commend her on her speech, and to say their farewells before they scurried past the gilded graveyard gate and back to their homes, where they would mourn their part, no matter how small.

She blinked her eyes wearily as she watched a minor nobleman bow down and kiss her hand before he turned and left, being amongst the last to tell her what a great man the General was, and how Demacia would forever miss him.

She sighed and glanced absentmindedly towards the Mausoleum, the rays of the evening sun casting most terrifying shadow-shapes on the grassy ground.

“I think it’s time we leave ourselves, Tybresa.” She heard Otis’ voice call out to her as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Should I call a carriage?”

“No.” she said softly as she turned almost reluctantly to leave. “I would rather walk, Otis … thank you.”

He nodded and would take her by the arm, escorting her down the path that parted the graveyard into two large rows of mortuary stones and towards the gate. He had been carrying Falcon’s Wing throughout all this time, he had gotten used to the weight … that, or his arm may have possibly gone numb. He wasn’t sure.

“Do you … do you think I did the right thing, Otis?” Tybresa said in a wistful voice as she stared absentmindedly forward.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything, Otis. Me leaving, and being away for so long, and rarely having the chance to come and see him … especially now …”

The old Steward sighed heavily and stopped, turning to face her with a solemn expression. “Do you know what I think he would have said – right now, if he could?”

Tybresa blinked her eyes behind the veil in confusion before she shook her head.

And then Otis smiled as he said in a voice so tender and loving, it sounded similarly like that of her father’s. “Welcome home, Bree.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, unsure whether she should smile or frown … but instead, she surprised both she and Otis as she laughed, for the first time in the past few days, and kept on laughing to the point bitter tears were rolling down her cheeks while her body was wracked by a mix of guffaws and sobs to the point that Otis had to hold her on her feet.

When she calmed down, she managed to speak out weakly. “Yes. That does sound like Father, doesn’t it…?”

Otis nodded his head and would continue leading the new Lady Farrister down the pathway, through the gates and away from the graveyard …

… and back home.