Death In The Tides of Autumn

[Philomel]

No.

Never.

It cannot be.

"Don't even JOKE about this, Isa!" she screamed as she threw down the book.

Mina Garna froze. She was a young elf, and had not been in the Gilded Lily long. She ducked her head, hands folding into fearful fists. Biting her lip she tried to think of how best to say it.

"I am not joking, my lady. The news is true. Your mother-"

"My MOTHER is blessed my the goddess Drys. As am I, as are we all!" Philomel screamed out, now stamping a hoof on the wooden floor. A slight reverberation ran through it, and Mina could feel it through the panels. "She cannot be!"

Mina swallowed, and screwed up her eyes, "But ... but my lady ..."

[Philomel]

Furious, Philomel whipped around, screaming out loud her fury.

"It CANNOT be!" she screamed as loud as she could, braid flailing out behind her as she turned swiftly. "It's not fair, it cannot happen, it CANNOT be!"

Mina peeked open an eye. She watched as the hulking form of the faun strode across to the other side of the room and proceeded to pull off the covers of her hammock and furiously through them to the ground. At least it wasn't anything heavy now, but it was still out of frustration and anger.

Whimpering softly she glanced once more at the crumpled paper in her hand and re-read the message, but it was still the same. It still more the same words, the same message, and the same tears that had gathered when they were written.

'All my love ... with my last dying breath ...'

"NO!" Philomel shrieked at the top of her voice, falling to her knees. "No, mother!"

[Philomel]

'I am sorry to bring you the news of the death of Lady Lacey van der Aart. A noble faun and a noble practioner of the art of prostitution. Mother to Philomel van der Aart, guardian and acting first mate of the Fiesty Fox, she will forever be remembered in our memory.'

"Take it fucking away," she screeched, cheeks already tear-stained. "Take it away, I don't want to hear those words again."

Mina looked down again, completely hating herself for being the one to have brought the news. To be honest, she had volunteered, wanting to get herself recognised by the Matriarch, to stand out and be noted as going above and beyond duty in order to bring this news ... but now, obviously, things had not gone to plan. Instead she was the bringer of bad tidings, not the useful messenger who survived the Concordia forest by herself, braved hill and glen to get this precious message here to the fort.

Gently, a hand placed itself over her shoulder. Looking up she saw the tired face of Vaeron, the second in command of the Gilded Lily and only man who could ever sent foot amongst them.

"I didn't ..."

He shook his head gently and just quietly gestured for her to leave.

[Philomel]

Quickly, she ran out. Leaving the paper for him.

He looked down at it, tilting his head to read the official message, then the personal scrawl beneath it from Philomel's mother. It was kind enough, at least, for the old haggered woman to scrawl something, but it hadn't made it any easier.

Still Philomel raged, now slamming herself over the head, repeatedly, with a pillow.

"Damn, damn, DAMN IT!"

Vaeron rolled his eyes before striding forwards. "Stop it," he said softly. "You'll hurt yourself."

He calmly reached out and tried to take the cushion.

Reaction. The faun lashed out. Softness, but thumping hard, met his head.

[Philomel]

Indeed, he fell silent.

The mage blinked, frowning a little as his head very much began to smart.

"Well," he dryly said. "That was not appropriate."

Standing there, quite held in shock, Philomel stared at him for a moment, before dropping the pillow. With a face so heavily tear-stained and dripping it was hard to tell if she was truly remorseful for what she had just done, but one had to hope.

Her hands, shaking, flew to her face and she gasped a little in shock.

"Oh I am sorry," she mumbled quickly. "Sorry, I ... Well ..."

[Philomel]

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, shaking himself.

He rolled back his shoulders, and screwed up the paper in his hand.

"Whatever, Princess. I was trying to help, but I can see you are coping just well on your own."

Sourly he curled his lip and began to turn, raising his chin and shaking back his salt and pepper hair to begin striding out. A strong stride, obviously, with purpose and dignity and power. To leave the miserable faun alone to her own way of coping.

Which apparently included hitting her friends.

Her only friend, it should be said, who didn't take the form of a fox or a dragon.

"Ahhh ... wait!"

[Philomel]

He stopped in his tracks. He breathed in slowly, but did not turn around.

She stopped, and swallowed before biting her lip. "I am so sorry," she mumbled. "It is just ... I don't want to get angry at you but ..."

Vaeron twisted his head around, fixing her with a focused stare. "You want to be angry."

Huffing, she nodded and shuffled forwards. Meek, like a lamb, she came to him, and buried her head into his shoulder. He was the best friend she had never had, besides Veridian. But then Veridian had been hers for all time, since his first breath and her first state of knowing her destiny. They had been together for all this time, and ... well. He was a part of her.

Vaeron was different. He was her brother, the lover she would never have, the father that she never had had. The human mage wrapped his arms around her, nodding quietly as she proceeded to cry again, rivers of sorrow and heart ache.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It is never going to be easy."

[Philomel]

She sniffed into his once white, cotton shirt. Snot dripped from her nose, but he did not care. He let her dribble uselessly and kept holding her upright.

"How ... how many more deaths must I go through?" she mumbled. "Every one of my girls ... every time Veridian goes ... and now - now."

He nodded and rubbed her back softly, "Loss is something so hard to understand," the unsmiling man said gently, his hand rising to tangle into her hair. "So hard, so complicated, so brutal ... but it makes us learn."

"Learn how to suffer, how to cry?" she retorted, angrily.

Vaeron froze, feeling the rage in her voice. His brows furrowed, lips parted. He knew her when she was frustrated, and it often led to him being hit with cushions.

"Ehhh ..."

[Philomel]

Suddenly Philomel realised where she was going. Slipping right back into her abusive madness use of sorrow. She quickly ducked her head, and stepped away, rememebering the way he had stared at her, stunned, after she had practically walloped him.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Vaeron blinked at the word. Very few ever heard her say such a thing.

He waved his hand and shook his head kindly. "Do not worry about it," he let it pass, "No worries at all."

She awkwardly padded her feet. "Sorry," she repeated.

"You don't sound like an all pwerful Princess Matriarch about to take over Corone," he said lightly.

And he reached over to prod her shoulder. Apparently a little too hard.

[Philomel]

She gasped, and he had got her back for the thump over his head.

"Ow, fucker!" she yelled, turning right the way around to face him fully again.

Gently, playfully almost, she hit him with retribution across the cheek. This time, it did not hurt so much, just stung for a few seconds and then disappated to the ether of forgotten times.

"Fucker am I?" he asked, rubbing the jaw. "Hmmm. I have not fucked anyone in a long time."

"I am sure I could find you a rent-boy that suits your needs," she quiped.

And all of a sudden a grin came to her lips.

[Philomel]

He said nothing. He did not even smile in response, mostly because he could not due to his aged accident that had cut his facial muscles.

But he did nod and clasp his hands before him, glad to the depths of the sea and ends of the earth that she was smiling again.

"I am sure you could," he responded, "Very easily. I know that you have some, even."

"Yeah, but women are better," she shrugged, twisting around and strutting over to where she had placed her sword. It stood in a small rack, along with her other instruments of killing and battlefare. Quickly she began to strap them on, all of them, including her dragonhide breastplate. "Always better."

"And where do I stand in all of this?" Vaeron arched an eyebrow, curiously watching her in her new spirits getting ready to go out.

Philomel shrugged. "You are gay. And my best friend. You are different."

[Philomel]

More hope came to the eyes of the older man. He inclined his head again, satisfied that her usual charm and character was returning, rather than the furious anger over the death. Anger, that was of course requited, but could be dealt with a much better way.

With her joking and insulting him, it meant she was brighter and more herself. He did not know well how to handle her as a bubbling idiot full of tears and misery. Though of course she had a right to be, and he could hug her for a while, he did not know if he could do it long term. Personally he had seen and experienced loss, but dealt with it much more silently than most. A life of abandonment by his mother, then father, then church had left the mage, once a paladin, now more of a rogue, without much luck except in that of Philomel van der Aart.

"Right."

He lifted his eyes to look right at her. There she was, strong and dressed, in her limited armour and with weapons adorning. He himself had a dagger that was blessed by his god, and a bow that spoke of many magical things, such as no arrows. Letting his gaze filter over her he paused before waiting for her to continue.

"Right?"

She had taken too long.

[Philomel]

"Right, we are going to sort this," she said.

The mage blinked. "Sort ... this?"

"Yes," she nodded, "Arrange the funeral. Get her god-damned body over here. Ask Drys ... demand to Drys why she was taken so quickly. I mean, she is barely fifty!"

He squinted, "And that is ..."

"Young, for a faun, yes," she rolled her eyes, marching forwards.

She moved past him and he turned to follow her as she started out. He watched her for a while, then shrugged.

"Your race is weird."

"So is yours."

[Philomel]

They moved out of her large-ish room, into the main corridor of the keep. To the other side was a door to Vaeron's own quarters, a long thin plan, perfect for practising his archery, and beyond them other rooms taken by the lieutenants (two, in fact) that Philomel had placed in secondary positions. One was the recently promoted Isa, a guard of great use who had proved her worth after several successful masked raids on Corone Rangers. So irritating were those people in coming too close to the foretress for comfort.

She started towards, and then down, the stairs that led to the lower floor and what had been a court hall. It was now a large mess, with a room off the back dedicated to the goddess who had brought them here. Vaeron knew this was where she was headed after all her frustrated rant.

"Humans live to maybe seventy," he finally said, when they got to the mess.

It was quiet right now, being the middle of the day when all were either at training or lounging around. The few that were there looked up to stare in pity at Philomel as the pair passed. Clearly they had heard the news, and perhaps even how Philomel had reacted with Mina.

"And fauns a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred," she shrugged.

[Philomel]

"That is nice for you."

"But not nice for my mother, who died so young," she hissed, the anger coming back in.

She ignored the melancholic faces looking over to her and shoved her way through the back door that led to the chapel. Vaeron rolled his eyes and waved an absent, pardoning hand to those she basically flipped off.

"I am gay, remember," he muttered, "Ha, ha, make fun of the mage."

She made a brutal face back to him, and then stepped into the room. Vaeron quickly made his usual sign of his god, the rain-star god Earlon of Raiaeran folk and mainly elves, and prayed to him to forgive him before he followed her into what might as well be an interior garden.

[Philomel]

Pot plants aplenty had been brought here and lined the walls. Trees in troughs leant against one another, and a small habitat for flies and frogs coming through a window and the cracks in walls gave life and sense to the place. Boughs and wreaths were fresh and brought in daily. Currently a circlet of roses and evergreen was placed by the main altar, a simple slab of rock that had been dedicated and purposefully blessed by Philomel herself.

She paused, however, and folded her arms to find that the stone slab had already been taken up, with an occupant on its surface. Not that she was going to sit on it, but she had certainly been meaning to make an offering.

Large golden eyes sparkled as they looked up at her and the brush tail flicked.

I heard, Veridian said softly in her mind, And I am sorry.

[Philomel]

Vaeron inwardly sighed and leant against the wall. Another one.

Philomel went off her rocker again.

Slamming a hand onto her other, fist into palm she hissed darkly.

"So young! Taken so early, dammit, why did Drys have to do this?"

Veridian swung to his feet, his brush tail swooping out like a pendulum to get his balance. He did not seem fazed in the slightest by her anger issues. In fact, he was perfectly used to it, having shared her head for most of these years.

Death happens, he said, and stretched before sticking his nose up to her. Scratch behind my ears please, I brought you the branches you like.

Both faun and human looked over to a corner where the fox-form earth spirit gestured with a paw. True enough, stashed in a messy pile and looking like it had been dragged through the sewer and muck were two sets of foliage - one ash, the other white lily.

Took me a while to find the flower. Now, scratch.

[Philomel]

Caught there, she was stunned. Her lips parted as she stared at the very rare flower that she had searched for every time they came to a new place, or so it seemed.

"Lily ..."

Your mother, right? Veridian now pushed his muzzle right into her hand. I did good, now scratch.

Vaeron glanced from one to the other, considering all this, and knowing the importance of the flower to Philomel. It had been her mother's favourite since birth and signified innocence, a thing Philomel often saw taken from so many women, something that angered her so much. It infuriated her, made her want to destroy and maim and kill.

"I uh ... think he wants a pet," he said with a soft cough.

Philomel twisted hurriedly around to him, eyes huge. He paused, then nodded right to Veridian who was impatiently begging for his reward. If it could be called a reward. Really he just liked attention from his beloved, and his ears were a place he could never quite satisfyingly itch.

"Oh ..." Philomel said a little quietly. And quickly she responded.

[Philomel]

Ahhhhh ...

That was it. Very much it. Veridian began to chatter with joy as she thoroughly began to spoil him. He turned his head to the side, forcing her to get just the right spot.

He began to purr like a cat.

My lord Earlon, Vaeron prayed internally, Much have you blessed me in terms of my friends and companions.

Philomel was altogether swiftly reduced in her frustration again when she began to fuss over Veridian. She gave him both hands and started to groom him, nose to tail with pet upon pet and stroke upon stroke. She kissed his nose and told him how much she loved him, and how much she would grieve if he was the one to go, and that she was so pleased he was here, and that now she could smile and that oh my ... how could this happen ...

Tears began to slide down again. Vaeron swiftly walked to stand in front of the door so that it was certain no others would get in, and Veridian actually pulled himself from her grasp.

"Offering," they both said.

[Philomel]

"Ugh," she nodded, and grunted. And moved away before her frustrations got the better of her again and someone else got hurt.

Like her.

Again. She took the two strides to where the ask branch and the white lily lay and took up either in each hand. Veridian wriggled before bouncing off the altar, allowing her access. He trotted back, going to over where Vaeron was. Raising his eyes the fox nodded to the human, and they shared an equal gaze of respect before settling back and letting their mutual friend get on with her duties.

Her duties. Or her venting.

Either worked.

[Philomel]

"Goddess above, who makes the trees grow tall and the earth good for planting ..."

Philomel grasped tight either piece of flora in her hand as she turned fully to the altar.

She raised her chin.

"Protect the spirit of she who comes into your arms tonight, keep her close and safe on her journey to your paradise."

Raising the branch and flower she crossed them above her head, focusing with intent.

"Even though you - you," she stopped herself, cutting off short. Although she wanted to blame the goddess ... and well did to some respect, she did not want to verbally blame her. For all Drys had taken from her, she had given Philomel ten times more, and if she was completely honest there were many other gods in the world who likely were really the ones to blame. The gods of disease, for instance.

[Philomel]

"Even though she did not fully commit to worship of you, I pray now that you take her into your hold. She is yours, a child of yours and a child of the earth, one of the many blessings you have placed here. Hold onto her, keep her, and take these items in my hands as offerings to you."

She straightened her arms, the ash and lily standing tall despite their being broken off from their roots, and shimmering in the daylight.

"Take them as signs of my trust and - and keep her spirit. Keep the spirit of Lacey van der Aart and never - never let her GO!"

She screamed the last word to the skies and the room fell silent. Breath was held, birds outside fell to, and there was nothing but the gentle breath of wind. The straight foliage remained straight for a while, for long enough before Philomel finally lowered her arms.

[Philomel]

"You did good, kid," Vaeron said gently, coming up behing her.

Softly, he placed her hand on her shoulder.

"'Kid'?" she murmured, placing the branches on the altar finally. However, her hands still remained touching the foliage.

Vaeron nodded, "'Kid,' yeah. Younger than me."

"What happened to 'Princess'?"

"You are still a Princess, just a kid at the moment." He grinned and tugged her around a little.

[Philomel]

One hand fell from the altar. That was, from the ash branch.

She turned to look at him, blinking delicately. "Hmmm?"

"You can be a Princess most of the time. Just now you're 'kid'."

Pausing for a moment she thought a while, then ducked her head, glancing over to where Veridian was. The fox-form whipped his tail gently, and stretched onto his paws.

Always my beloved.

[Philomel]

Vaeron glanced between the two, obviously not able to hear their conversation. He paused, then shrugged, seeing the soft smile coming to Philomel's lips.

"Sure, whatever he said," he patted her shoulder. "Now, let us go and drink heavily before you make any stupid accusations."

"I almost did," Philomel confessed, looking back over to where her fingers still delicately were placed on the lily. "I almost did."

The last one she said quietly.

She bit her lip as she realised.

"I almost did. I almost cursed Drys."

[Philomel]

"As do many," Vaeron said patting her shoulder. "As many almost do. So many come close to negitively blaming their dieties for any sort of sorrowful happening."

"Have you?" she turned, tilting her head. One finger still remained on the flower.

"Have I ..."

"Cursed Earlon?"

Vaeron paused, and he blinked.

"Ah. Ahhh ... now that is a story for another time."

[Philomel]

He slyly winked.

"I am not saying anything."

She looked bemused.

"Did you just ... wink at me Vaeron?"

Vaeron stopped and shook his head once. "No. Not at all. Of course not. I have no idea ..."

She gasped, and fully turned to him, staring at her and her hand finally fell from the lily offering.

[Philomel]

"You so did!" she laughed, and raised a fluttering hand to her mouth.

"You actually have more emotions than one!"

Now it was his turn to be offended.

"Okay," he pointed a finger at her. "That is impolite."

She laughed and ducked out of his reach, starting for the door.

"I am Philomel can der Aart."

[Philomel]

He raised his brows.

"Yeah, I know, why else would I follow you to the ends of the earth and leave all family and friends behind?"

Philomel scoffed. "Darling, the only family you have abandoned you, and the only friend you had, besides me, was Lavishingham, and that wasn't really anything."

Vaeron frowned. He could do that well, even if he could not smile and he felt a certain irritation set in, even if he did not feel the need to berate her for it.

"That was uncalled for," he muttered under his breath.

[Philomel]

"Hmm?" she asked as she pushed open the chapel door.

He looked at her and shook his head. "Nothing," he replied.

Golden eyes stared up at him, knowing the opposite was true. Foxes have sharp ears, Vaeron knew, and earth-spirits more so. So Veridian likely had heard.

The mage gave him a shrug, and a look that said, 'she's being a dick'.

Veridian seemed to take that as an acceptable excuse, because after a moment's pause he followed Philomel out of the door.

[Philomel]

There were a couple more in the mess hall now, more than had begun. All tried not to, but they gazed upwards at their Matriarch up with pity and sorrow. They fell quiet also, allowing those who were slow on the uptake to realise that she was coming in.

Philomel stopped and sighed heavily, looking around at the faces. Rolling her eyes she crouched in slightly, returning to a more irritated personality than the brighter person Vaeron and Veridian kept on trying to appeal to, and started to stalk back to the staircase. All was as still as death, soup dripped from half-raised spoons, cutlery rocked, barely touched by a hand that had gone to pick up up and water kept spilling from a person still pouring. Still paused and pouring, still careful and silent.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Philomel darkly hissed and began to half run back up the stairs. They creaked under her hooves, the wood fragile already.

With another mutter Vaeron started after.

[Philomel]

"Apologies," he said quickly to all the general, frozen crowd when he reached the staircase bottom, "She's a bit ... well. Affected by the death and all."

Veridian let out a sharp hiss to him as the fox skirted around him to follow Philomel up to the next floor.

"What?" he looked down at the beast. "What is it? It is true!"

Veridian ignored him thereafter, and pounced the steps two at the time.

The mage looked back to the baited breath.

"What?" he shrugged. "It is!"

[Philomel]

Yes, but you don't say it, Veridian chattered.

Vaeron didn't hear it, but naturally Philomel did. Being in her mind and he in hers when they allowed.

"What?" she bitterly replied. "You don't say what?"

The mage is just being an arsehole.

She paused, and shrugged. "When is he not? When am I not to him?"

Veridian joined her on the next floor. Very fair enough.

[Philomel]

She started back towards her room, towards the destruction she had created. As she did she began to unbuckle her sword, not really knowing why she had pulled it on in the first place.

"We should sort out bringing her body here," she said loudly, and then paused, before shouting the corridor.

"Have them bring her body here! Sent a pigeon!"

A face popped out from a door. It was a young woman, Mina in fact, who was half dressed and looking bright and happy. It was Isa's room she looked out from.

"Madam?"

Philomel just rolled her eyes. Elves would be elves. Sex was part of the Gilded Lily's life after all.

"Please just have someone send a pigeon to get my mother's body here," she asked, "And do it fast."

[Philomel]

Mina's eyes dropped down to Veridian. He grinned at her, in his twisted foxy way and swished his brightly tipped tail. If he could have he would have waved.

She just nodded, not the uncertain girl before but now seemingly more confident. Mostly because she was being made very happy.

Another face appeared behind hers. An older, more rounded one, also elfin. Philomel barely acknowledged it, and marched through her door.

"What is it?"

"The lady Philomel wants her mother's body brought here for a funeral," Mina tilted her head up to that above her. A smirk was written on her lips.

"Hmm? That is a good idea," Isa murmured. "Of course, all her ideas are."

"Not as good as my one right now," Mina giggled.

[Philomel]

"Just make sure it is done," Vaeron sighed, finally joining the party upstairs.

He glanced at the two barely clothed girls and folded his arms.

"Really?" he asked. "Right now?"

Mina seemed to shrink under the weight of his stature and authority, but Isa just shrugged.

"Yeah, right now. Philomel doesn't find a problem with it."

"That is lady Philomel to you, Isa," he replied. "Now just make sure it is done."

She stuck out her tongue at him, but disappeared, going to put on more clothes.

Veridian watched between the couple and Vaeron as he started after Philomel into her room, completely and utterly amused.

[Philomel]

He decided to stay there a while.

He remained, and heard many interesting noises.

First of all from Philomel beloved's room (and his, on occaision), he heard sounds of sobbing, then shouting, then laughing. He heard noises like, 'whump,' and 'kkfftt,' and something else he could not describe with letters or phonemes.

From the other side, from Isa's room, he heard giggling. Then there was the creaking wood from a bed he was used to - that sound that meant two-legged's were making joy - and 'whoop's. A final scream was uttered before a great sigh and a rush to then do something like walk.

Sounds more came from downstairs. Which was good, because that meant their action had commenced, and likely no more water was spilling onto the floor from that over-flowing cup. That had annoyed Veridian to no avail, but sometimes it didn't seem right to moan at the ways of wastage.

[Philomel]

The back door opened and Mina hurried out. She had a stupid grin on her face and was tightening the cord on her dress.

Quickly, swift like a deer, she ran, down the corridor. She paused to brush Veridian's back with a smooth stroke of her hand, and in that moment he decided he liked her. He gave her an affectionate purr, and nudge to her finger, and then she was off again, presumably to send off the pigeon and carry out Philomel's orders.

Which was good. It would make her happy.

And anything that made her happy made him so too.

[Philomel]

Once everything seemed a little calmer, Veridian decided to leave and go to his own room.

He had requested, and got, a small ex-servants chamber. Or perhaps it had been a prison. He did not care. All he was certain was that it had a large window and a large cushion and a way out to hop onto a roof and then get access out to the forest at the back. Easy footing could guide a fox up into the higher trees and beyond, places where a horse or human could not follow.

He swung his tail as he slipped under the curtain hanging there. Doors annoyed him, they were far too fussy to deal with. Knobs instead of handles especially. So a curtain did for him. It allowed privacy as well as ease of entry and exit, especially when one did not have diposable thumbs to grasp properly.

Ah. There it was.

A soft breeze.

[Philomel]

Veridian settled down on his huge push cushion, folding his forepaws under his body. He lowered head onto them, curled his tail tightly around himself and smiled.

Oh yes, it was a bad day. And he could feel through his mind that Philomel was still suffering - though going through stages of grief from her laughing and crying all within minutes from each other. It was wierd the way humans, elves, fauns etc felt. They sometimes just couldn't decide.

He yawned, loudly, and settled down.

He would miss Lacey. She had been nice.

[Philomel]

The afternoon came to night.

The pigeon was released and sent, and Mina and Isa returned to their joyful tidings.

Veridian slept for a long part of the afternoon, dreaming about the mother of his beloved and how she had given him venison from her plate.

He had liked that.

He had appreciated that.

Philomel had never known.

[Philomel]

Vaeron calmed Philomel down and had dinner with her. Gently, he told her the story of his childhood again, of when his mother had left his family, and of when he had returned from the service as a paladin, his father had remarried and forgotten about him. Philomel was eager to know. All of her life she had been but a whore, raised in a brothel, and before that abused by her father.

Both of them had lost people, both of them had lost things and strived for retribution, and both of them thought the other had a better childhood.

They ended up sitting in silence, eating with no words and no smiles. Just small nods and a calm understanding between them both.

[Philomel]

Later in the day he left.

He went to his own room and picked up his bow.

A fresh log had been placed up for him, at the end of his room as he requested every day. Carefully he breathed in before taking a tempered stance. He had no quiver, just his bow, and after a long pause he pulled back on the string. Tension came to it, ease flowed from his body and all the pain he had felt in rememebering his past built up into the rivulet of blue energy that surged up between wood and horse hair as an arrow.

He stood there, still as a tree in a windless day, focusing on the food.

Anger, hatred, sorrow. It all built up, and he let it do so. The energy grew brighter. Lacey still died.

Brighter.

More powerful.

[Philomel]

His trained muscles held it for the last moment, and then he released.

The magic arrow shot out and exploded into the wood. Dark energy, ocean energy, wonder energy - it flew. It blossomed out, dug in point first and then dispersed in a wide smash of woodchip and bark.

Unlike his usual shots, this decimated the log in one strike.

It left nothing.

Certainly his emotions were high.

[Philomel]

What a day.

She lay back in her hammock, staring at the ribbed ceiling.

Ribbed, sort of. It had large beams that supported the uppermost hall, the planning and meeting floor that was used for the strategy of the fortress. It was where, also, she planned to eventually put the throne that she so wanted, a throne made from the gold recovered from theives and dirty politicians.

Or maybe she didn't need a throne. Maybe just a pretty chair.

A chair would do.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

[Philomel]

Sorrow, heartache, anger and loss.

It had been a hard day, and the funeral tomorrow would be even harder.

A pyre would be built and set ablaze, and good things would have to be said about Lacey.

Maybe that was the hardest.

[Philomel]

The End.

[Philomel]

Rest In Peace, Lacey van der Aart

http://img04.deviantart.net/0706/i/2015/122/8/5/satyr_by_cristianaleone-d2ltfk6.jpg

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Philomel receives 3630 EXP (including Althanas Festival bonus) and 125 GP!

Congratulations!