The travel upon Melethkara with the rest of the group of people comprised of Miranda, Danae, the clan and those who came along to provide support went pretty quiet on Itsuyashi's side. He stood beside Miranda, in his ceremonial shihakusho, black with golden details weaved in the seams of the cloth. A katana strapped to his belt, both for protection and ceremony. A few quiet orders to those of the clan to assume their positions once they arrived to Yggdrasil.
The walk to the burial site, Itsuyashi never left Miranda's side, keeping a watchful gaze across the area, though his main objective being to console and support the wizard if need be. Once Danae prepared and waited to commence the ritual, he went silent. Standing stoically, he placed his hands behind his back, stomach in and chest out, in a very military fashion. A nod of his head offered to those that he found familiar from his previous visit to the Tree of Life, he had a sensation of deja vu.
His own visit to this place being once his own loved one passed, brought a sensation of dread and grief, but also a promise of a new beginning once he took in the environment. The fresh air and the hulking bark of the tree spanning the skies for hundreds of yards. He felt, the area was proper for the burial, thus returning his gaze on the crowd, and waited patiently for the ceremony to begin.
Death Of A Wizard.
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*zethrenx99
- Posts: 116
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The white wolf Yuki would accompany Miranda with Itsu and the others who where able to participate. He arrives to her side neatly donned in newly buffed and polished plated armor leaving few but his head covered with the glistening hues of pink and indigo. Gaps in the padding of the plate leaves way to fluff patches of his nearly stainless fur.
As they waited for the procession to commence, the wolf offered a confidential nuzzle to the woman and the young Edwin, keeping himself close for whatever she may need. The wolf's demeanor remained a peaceful calm and at times almost joyful. He did not seem like one who was prepared to give a final farewell but rather one who was eager to celebrate a life.
Upon receiving his orders from Itsuyashi, the wolf would take his place sitting tall with his head held at an attentive state creating a nearly straight line down his spine. He remains in this position, tail steady and gaze fixed, offering occasion movements only in his ears as nose as the canine keeps alert and focused for whatever may come.
As they waited for the procession to commence, the wolf offered a confidential nuzzle to the woman and the young Edwin, keeping himself close for whatever she may need. The wolf's demeanor remained a peaceful calm and at times almost joyful. He did not seem like one who was prepared to give a final farewell but rather one who was eager to celebrate a life.
Upon receiving his orders from Itsuyashi, the wolf would take his place sitting tall with his head held at an attentive state creating a nearly straight line down his spine. He remains in this position, tail steady and gaze fixed, offering occasion movements only in his ears as nose as the canine keeps alert and focused for whatever may come.
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Miranda continues to sit quietly, squirming playful child in her hand while she waits for word from the kelemvorite that she is ready to begin the ceremony.
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*edmaster44
- Posts: 797
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Helena would come Dressed in Black, a Elegant Dress, with her Obvious Outsider Features Hidden with a magical ring, she whore a headscarf and a black veil, on her left hand she held a bundle of roses and sat Next to Cornelia as the Funeral got rolling.
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*Aidan Airna
- Posts: 56
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
*Cornelia drapes a warm loving wing about Helena's shoulders.*edmaster44,Feb 4 2017 wrote: Helena would come Dressed in Black, a Elegant Dress, with her Obvious Outsider Features Hidden with a magical ring, she whore a headscarf and a black veil, on her left hand she held a bundle of roses and sat Next to Cornelia as the Funeral got rolling.
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*Red the Rogue
- Posts: 72
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Riding on Melethkanara along with the others, Sharon silently watched the others with a calm, stoic expression on her visage. Unlike her usual colors, she wore a formal, black robe with a silver trim, a pendant bearing the symbol of Selune, and a hood left unused unless needed. Few words were spoken by her that day, though her mind was racing through many emotions. She never met Gregory, but remembering the proud wizard's emotions becoming too much for her usual self and the stories shared reminded Sharon of herself not too long ago. After all, she felt the sting of loss only two years ago herself with her own father.
Upon arriving in Asgard and departing from the ship, she started to feel a slight tug at her own soul. She had only been to the outer plane twice before, but she already began to feel... strangely, at home, despite the general mood that followed the funeral. She did her best to ignore it, following the others as instructed to find a place to be, either sitting or standing if allowed with her hands folded before her.
Upon arriving in Asgard and departing from the ship, she started to feel a slight tug at her own soul. She had only been to the outer plane twice before, but she already began to feel... strangely, at home, despite the general mood that followed the funeral. She did her best to ignore it, following the others as instructed to find a place to be, either sitting or standing if allowed with her hands folded before her.
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*Er_Nano_Infame
- Posts: 435
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Namael would be present at the funeral as well
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*witchinghour
- Posts: 188
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
\\Apologies, I wished to make this as perfect as I could~ <3 - And credit to Michael Lee for a beautiful poem I've adapted to our thread!\\
Body upon the pyre, the priestess stood near as she waited for the people to settle in. A nod of her masked head towards the deceasedÂ’s wife in a signal that she was about to begin. She withdrew her prepared funeral herbs, incense, and funeral wreath made of Bay Laurel. With a torch presumably nearby , it was a funeral pyre after all, Danae lit the sticks of incense. Placing the smoldering rosemary smells in four corners around the pyre; wafting the smoke around the preserved body in a uttered blessing. Only but a soft echo through the silver visage as she laid the Bay Laurel above GregoryÂ’s crown.
[align=center]God of death,
you who are the end inherent in the beginning,
scythe to the ripe grain,
the fall of berries,
and the coming of night.
You are called the Implacable One.
but we know you
as the most gracious God.
Healer,
end of sorrow,
relief of pain,
Receive our deceased.[/align]
The purple mists peered from the eye slits upon those gathered as she reached for that basket of prepared funeral herbs. Plucking a leaf of Lemon Balm from the basket. Canting her head slightly at the first pick. In the manner she did so, you could also feel as if she was.. Smiling fondly at some memory before her echoing voice within the mask spoke again. For Happiness.
[align=center]When searching for the lost, remember theses things:[/align]
She spoke as if a wise matron giving a life lesson. Gently placing the lemony leaf upon the pyre, point facing outwards.
[align=center]We are vessels. We are rooms. We are lanterns
swallowing the fire of life upon birth.
It wheels through us creating every moment,
the pulse of a story, the soft hums of labor .. and love.
In our last moment it will come rushing
from our chests and be given back to the wind.
When we die. We go everywhere.[/align]
Her head bobbed back towards the gathering, arms spread out as she emphasized everywhereThose purple mists from within near smiled once again as leaves upon the surrounding trees moved. Perhaps the half elf addedÂ… emotional flare. Moving on, taking a classic, thyme. Oh thyme, for Purification. To place once again in the same manner as the lemon balm
[align=center]Someone once told me that our energies are neither created or destroyed
Our bodies are nothing more than hosts to a collection of brilliant things.
When someone dies I do not weep over portraits or belongings,
I begin to look for the lightning that has left them,
I feel out the strongest breeze and take off running.
If you donÂ’t hear at least a thousand songs within the wind,
Lulling you to sleep,
Then youÂ’re not listening hard enough.[/align]
Withdrawing the Sage, she did the same as she had done with the other blessed herbs. For Wisdom, For Safety.
[align=center]The theory of six degrees of separation
was never meant to show how many people we can find,
it was a set of directions for how to find the people we have lost.
IÂ’ve found my own fatherÂ’s love for family in that of a goblin.
Sweeping up dirt of the figures he's given life to when all his are dead.
IÂ’ve seen the smile of a good friend in another even closer.
Pearl teeth that could melt any sadness.
IÂ’ve met the love of my life again.[/align]
She looked at Miranda dead in the eyes when placing the last sage leaf, directing the last few words to her.
[align=center]And you will find him again around you.
Listen to the wind.[/align]
Finally, the half elf stepped to her tippy toes to place a bushel of Lavander between GregoryÂ’s hands. For Peace. For Memories.
The soft subtle sound of her mouth opening to speak, but with a pause. The half elf looked to Miranda, bearing her own peculiar soul in her eyes, and beckoned her forward with a motion to her side and a torch.
I would wish that you start it yourself.
With that, she turned back to address the rest. Pulling parchment from her sleeves and unfolding them, revealing her odd little symbols, different but the style was still there. Her eyes again drifting away to land upon mela enÂ’ emelamin, Argent, as she addressed the rest of the gathering.
[align=center]We... are not created or destroyed,
we are constantly transferred, shifted and renewed.
Everything we are is given to us.
Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside us can only be contained for so long.
We do not die. We pass on, pass on the lightning burning through our throats.
when you leave me I will not cry for you
I will run into the strongest wind I can find..
and welcome... you home.[/align]
Body upon the pyre, the priestess stood near as she waited for the people to settle in. A nod of her masked head towards the deceasedÂ’s wife in a signal that she was about to begin. She withdrew her prepared funeral herbs, incense, and funeral wreath made of Bay Laurel. With a torch presumably nearby , it was a funeral pyre after all, Danae lit the sticks of incense. Placing the smoldering rosemary smells in four corners around the pyre; wafting the smoke around the preserved body in a uttered blessing. Only but a soft echo through the silver visage as she laid the Bay Laurel above GregoryÂ’s crown.
[align=center]God of death,
you who are the end inherent in the beginning,
scythe to the ripe grain,
the fall of berries,
and the coming of night.
You are called the Implacable One.
but we know you
as the most gracious God.
Healer,
end of sorrow,
relief of pain,
Receive our deceased.[/align]
The purple mists peered from the eye slits upon those gathered as she reached for that basket of prepared funeral herbs. Plucking a leaf of Lemon Balm from the basket. Canting her head slightly at the first pick. In the manner she did so, you could also feel as if she was.. Smiling fondly at some memory before her echoing voice within the mask spoke again. For Happiness.
[align=center]When searching for the lost, remember theses things:[/align]
She spoke as if a wise matron giving a life lesson. Gently placing the lemony leaf upon the pyre, point facing outwards.
[align=center]We are vessels. We are rooms. We are lanterns
swallowing the fire of life upon birth.
It wheels through us creating every moment,
the pulse of a story, the soft hums of labor .. and love.
In our last moment it will come rushing
from our chests and be given back to the wind.
When we die. We go everywhere.[/align]
Her head bobbed back towards the gathering, arms spread out as she emphasized everywhereThose purple mists from within near smiled once again as leaves upon the surrounding trees moved. Perhaps the half elf addedÂ… emotional flare. Moving on, taking a classic, thyme. Oh thyme, for Purification. To place once again in the same manner as the lemon balm
[align=center]Someone once told me that our energies are neither created or destroyed
Our bodies are nothing more than hosts to a collection of brilliant things.
When someone dies I do not weep over portraits or belongings,
I begin to look for the lightning that has left them,
I feel out the strongest breeze and take off running.
If you donÂ’t hear at least a thousand songs within the wind,
Lulling you to sleep,
Then youÂ’re not listening hard enough.[/align]
Withdrawing the Sage, she did the same as she had done with the other blessed herbs. For Wisdom, For Safety.
[align=center]The theory of six degrees of separation
was never meant to show how many people we can find,
it was a set of directions for how to find the people we have lost.
IÂ’ve found my own fatherÂ’s love for family in that of a goblin.
Sweeping up dirt of the figures he's given life to when all his are dead.
IÂ’ve seen the smile of a good friend in another even closer.
Pearl teeth that could melt any sadness.
IÂ’ve met the love of my life again.[/align]
She looked at Miranda dead in the eyes when placing the last sage leaf, directing the last few words to her.
[align=center]And you will find him again around you.
Listen to the wind.[/align]
Finally, the half elf stepped to her tippy toes to place a bushel of Lavander between GregoryÂ’s hands. For Peace. For Memories.
The soft subtle sound of her mouth opening to speak, but with a pause. The half elf looked to Miranda, bearing her own peculiar soul in her eyes, and beckoned her forward with a motion to her side and a torch.
I would wish that you start it yourself.
With that, she turned back to address the rest. Pulling parchment from her sleeves and unfolding them, revealing her odd little symbols, different but the style was still there. Her eyes again drifting away to land upon mela enÂ’ emelamin, Argent, as she addressed the rest of the gathering.
[align=center]We... are not created or destroyed,
we are constantly transferred, shifted and renewed.
Everything we are is given to us.
Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside us can only be contained for so long.
We do not die. We pass on, pass on the lightning burning through our throats.
when you leave me I will not cry for you
I will run into the strongest wind I can find..
and welcome... you home.[/align]
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Miranda almost immediately begins to cry heavily as the priestess begins her ritual, to most who know her it might be an odd thing watching someone who was at heart and soul a red wizard of Thay cry. She had by now, proved she was more then just a thayan wizard, that she indeed had a heart and soul and very real human emotions especially when it came to her husband whom had been her one and only true love since she was a little girl.
The black veil that covered her face shifted slightly in a quick breeze, its origins unknown, but it was enough to show the distortions of skin caused by the descent of her tears. She steps forward, her son in her arms as she leans into the pyre to plant a kiss on Gregorys pale lips, whispering something to him before standing upright. She stands still a moment, watching as Edwin studies the man laying in repose, a curious look upon his innocent cherub like face.
"This is your son my love, fate was cruel enough to take you from us before you could see him breathe, feel his touch...hear him laugh but he is here...with me...with us so that he may at least see his father and at least say goodbye" she spoke through a relentless wave of wracking sobs. She glances at Edwin for a moment, the childs face awash with a glint in his eye that can only be curiosity mixed with confusion as he is unable to understand why his mother cries at this moment.
She takes the torch and with an arcane phrase, sets it alight with a magical flame she turns to face the funeral pyre, stepping close to it. She halts suddenly, her hand quivering, her fingers trembling as she tries to will herself to do what should be done, what needs to be done. It takes her an impossibly long moment before she sucks in another deep breath and sets the torch to each of the four pyre corners, each tiny swish of the torch becoming harder then the last. She hands the torch to the priestess and buries a cheek into her sons tummy, one half of her gaze obscured, the other watching the priestess.
The black veil that covered her face shifted slightly in a quick breeze, its origins unknown, but it was enough to show the distortions of skin caused by the descent of her tears. She steps forward, her son in her arms as she leans into the pyre to plant a kiss on Gregorys pale lips, whispering something to him before standing upright. She stands still a moment, watching as Edwin studies the man laying in repose, a curious look upon his innocent cherub like face.
"This is your son my love, fate was cruel enough to take you from us before you could see him breathe, feel his touch...hear him laugh but he is here...with me...with us so that he may at least see his father and at least say goodbye" she spoke through a relentless wave of wracking sobs. She glances at Edwin for a moment, the childs face awash with a glint in his eye that can only be curiosity mixed with confusion as he is unable to understand why his mother cries at this moment.
She takes the torch and with an arcane phrase, sets it alight with a magical flame she turns to face the funeral pyre, stepping close to it. She halts suddenly, her hand quivering, her fingers trembling as she tries to will herself to do what should be done, what needs to be done. It takes her an impossibly long moment before she sucks in another deep breath and sets the torch to each of the four pyre corners, each tiny swish of the torch becoming harder then the last. She hands the torch to the priestess and buries a cheek into her sons tummy, one half of her gaze obscured, the other watching the priestess.
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*witchinghour
- Posts: 188
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Torch in hand, she moved it to some standing sconce. Carefully out stretching the piece of parchment she held prior to the wizardess.
I want you to.. to think on this. Think of what you and him and Edwin are. Think on every symbol. Leave it in the pyre, let it go to the wind with him.
Its okay.
The priestess would step to the side in her finally prayer and blessing. Clasping her hands hanging in front of her.
[align=center] Ashes to Ashes
And Dust to Dust
Maybe that ember not die
But carried with the wind[/align]
Finally now she would stand there ever vigilant watching the pyre consume. It didn't appear she would quite leave until the embers had finished. She is overseeing it 'til the last, and making sure the flames did not spread to the plane. And offering any silent consoling to the grieving wizardess.
I want you to.. to think on this. Think of what you and him and Edwin are. Think on every symbol. Leave it in the pyre, let it go to the wind with him.
Its okay.
The priestess would step to the side in her finally prayer and blessing. Clasping her hands hanging in front of her.
[align=center] Ashes to Ashes
And Dust to Dust
Maybe that ember not die
But carried with the wind[/align]
Finally now she would stand there ever vigilant watching the pyre consume. It didn't appear she would quite leave until the embers had finished. She is overseeing it 'til the last, and making sure the flames did not spread to the plane. And offering any silent consoling to the grieving wizardess.