The Passing of a Leader - Funeral

[stolenhart]

F'shr stared at the small portrait of the man he knew as his father. The portrait was several Turns old but it looked as if R"lyn would simply walk out of it. Candles, the finest Taskin had to offer, were lit and burning cheerfully around the portrait which was framed with a multitude of early blooming spring flowers. Through the arches of the dining cavern the ocean rolled slowly against the sand, the usual restful noise drowned out by the steady downpour of rain. It was the perfect day to say good-bye to the man who had lead the Weyr for over ten turns.

F'shr's usual, easy to smile mouth, was set in a grim line. If only Voracth had been faster they could have stopped the murdering bronze. He had failed his Weyrleader, his Wingleader, his father. There was no denying it. That saddened him. The OverHolder angered him, walking around with a smug little smile on his face as if he'd planned the whole skirmish. He wouldn't put it past the man and those lawless Northerners.

He idly drained his wine-glass, boots tapping in thin air as they rest on the tabletop while he reclined in his chair. The drudge gave him a murderous look for being careless with her table but she refilled his glass and pattered off. What did her opinion matter? He was allowed a little carelessness, it was his father that was dead afterall. He could still hear Castogath's final bellow echoing in his mind.

[saidaltam]

Siten was abjectly miserable. Isiloth's anger had stemmed sharply under the tide of despair that had struck Siten after R'lyn's death, and the gold hadn't been able to muster it since.

It wasn't that she'd known the man well. She hadn't. However, she'd seen him enough to know that he was a good leader, and a good man. Atop that, she was convinced that he was the only person in the whole Weyr who was being truly, genuinely honest with her about his motivations. Even the people who had few other reasons for their actions than those they presented openly to her, such as Ildessmor or that healer girl she'd met in the halls, Roslynn, seemed to her to have more going on than they admitted to. R'lyn never had.

It was the least that she could do to make a point of turning out at her best for the affair, which, considering, was no small accomplishment. Siten was no striking beauty, like so many southern girls were, and so putting on the sort of display that R'lyn deserved was a task and a half. With a little bit of help from a friendly drudge, however, she'd managed to do alright before putting on an appearance.

When she'd arrived for the funeral, she had been certain she was sufficiently composed for it, but moving to look at the display that had been done up with R'lyn's portrait, she wasn't so sure, and after a long moment, she felt tears welling up in her eyes again. She drew a deep breath, steeling herself. She knew she couldn't banish the tears that had already begun to make trails down her cheeks, but it was the least she could do to hold her composure beyond that absolute minimum, and so, she stood, tears rolling silently down her face, and observed the effigy of an honored and fallen man.

[horsegal]

Roslynn had heard the news that spread like wildfire and didn't want to believe it. R'lyn, the Southern Weyrleader, dead? She remembered him being among the first she had met and decalred her true ambitions to. She remembered his words, his advice, his fatherly kindness (the kind she wished her own father had), and his patience. Roslynn could see him without seeing a pciture as clearly as if he stood before her with his tired eyes and worn body. Sadly she joined the group mourning his loss.

Roslynn saw the portrait and stopped in her tracks. Luckily not in the doorway, else she might be given rude remarks and looks for the action. She felt caught in a trance as she saw the image there. He looked alive in the picture. Alive, healthy, and ready for another cup of klah and a chat. Roslynn didn't feel like she had properly thanked him for that.

"It feels too soon." She whispered to herself. Roslynn didn't truly know the man. She was not related to him, did not ride a dragon with him, but still, she felt connected to him. Roslynn was going to do as he suggested. As Siten had suggested and make sure that she became a candidate. There would be no taking 'no' from any rider or dragon. "For you R'lyn, for being a friend, I will remember you." She said softly.

[maiwolf]

Live had not known the powerful former Weyrleader. He was a well-known person, or had been. And though Live had never known him personally, she had known what his accomplishments had been. She had known that he'd kept the Weyr together through thick and thin. And he'd launched many things. Some of them had been accomplished, namely Isiloth's hatching. Some had been destroyed before they'd been able to be accomplished, and though Live couldn't pinpoint any at the time, she knew they were there. His largest failure was the ending of his life.

'Though he had many flaws, he was brilliant.' Live thought as the girl smoothed down her shirt. She owned no dresses, and was not about to ask someone for a black dress. She had instead settled for a silky black shirt and dark-colored pants. She had even brushed her hair and put it back in the hardest way she knew how. It was delicately placed in small rolls across her head and ending in a ponytail. The ends of her ponytail curled, because the bottom of her hair was naturally curly. Anything to show the former Weyrleader that he was still important, even in death.

'How horrible between seems! How can it be to be lost forever! Does one die from starvation in between

[/i], or does one just [/i]die?' Live thought, and kept thinking as she walked toward the funeral. When she arrived, she was not surprised to see Siten there, but she was surprised to see some others. Sure, she didn't know many people in the Weyr still (Zen's fault. ^-^, but she was getting there.

Live stepped into the room and quickly sat down. She didn't want to feel like a nuisance, so she got out of the way as soon as she could. Her eyes, like some other's she realized, were focused upon the portrait of R'lyn. He was alive again! If only. The girl blinked and looked away, but her eyes were drawn, undeniably, back to R'lyn. She didn't necessarily agree with the war between the two continents, but any death was not supposed to be. If she ever Impressed... the North would pay.[/blockquote]

[stolenhart]

"Shards", F'shr whispered, setting his boots on the stone floor with a thump as tears began to fall down Siten's cheek. She had chosen to stand beside him and he could quite clearly see the tears falling down her cheeks. "My Lady please, take my seat", he said, motioning her to the chair he had just vacated. He had been brought up in the deep south where manners mattered, especially towards women who outranked him. He gave her an encouraging smile to show her he didn't mind at all.

---

From the back of the hall S'fet leaned against a wall in his best clothes, a cleanand quiet Tub on his shoulder. Though he'd only had weapon lessons with the Weyrleader, R'lyn had always been a good teacher, not quick to harass or punish a student and he listened. S'fet didn't condone violence because events such as this. R'lyn should have been around for Turns yet, perhaps even winning Isiloth's flight and keeping his position. But when one lived a life of violence, one usually had a violent death. S'fet was here to support Siten, but he would spare a few thoughts for the death of a great man.

[kusuri]

When Castogath's final scream and rung throughout the air,all riders and dragons had been stunned.How could this happen? How could we be kicked when we were down? What had instigated this boarder skirmish!? Oh poor Castogath and His!

The bronze mentally bellowed,raw pain in his voice as he voiced his grief.Hatah had been distraught ever since the death of his Weyrleader and D'mon had even put aside his ambition to grieve for the pair.But only for a moment.

D'mon knew that after the grief wore off,there would be a scramble for power among the wingleaders.And he was ready to ascend.Entirely prepared to take over.It was just unfortunate that the R'lyn had died to make this possible.D'mon had wanted the man alive when he gained leadership through a Flight.

D'mon had to fight a smile of triumph as he joined the crowd of obsidian mourners.He bowed his head appropriately and schooled his expression.Coldly noting the reactions of others around him,hoping to spot any potential rivals that might oppose him in his bid for power.

[saidaltam]

Siten was a bit startled by F'shr addressing her. She'd been a bit lost in her own mind at the time. His words, therefore, made her jump, if only a little, and she turned, pressing a hand to her chest and exhaling softly. "Apologies. I didn't mean to disturb you," she said softly, bringing a hand up quickly to wipe her eyes. "It's fine. I just... The whole Weyr will mourn his passing, for a very long time."

It was weak, of course, but she didn't know what else to say, and with the consistent effort she was pouring into maintaining her composure, she really couldn't bring herself to muster more.

Feeling hers waver, Isiloth's mind reached out compassionately toward Siten's.

:Mine...:[/color] she sent, mindvoice almost gentle, for the first time in a very long time, and Siten felt the dragon's calm washing over her like the waters of a cool, still lake, soothing away some of her loss and easing the burden of her concentration a bit, allowing her to take a slow, deep breath and shake her tears, if only for a moment.

[stolenhart]

"No", F'shr said softly, "You didn't disturb me. I just cannot stand to see a woman crying even over the death of man like my father", he told her softly, once more motioning her towards the chair. His father had been a good man, a wise man. Once F'shr had learned of his doubtful parentage he had respected the man even more. There were not many who would care for a child they were unsure was even their's. F'shr knew in his heart he was R'lyn's son, how else would he ever Impressed a bronze?

"In truth it is not the funeral that is making me sad but the play of power that is going on even as we speak", he looked at D'mon out of the corner of his eye. That was one rider that F'shr wished was dead instead of his father. The man literally smelled of trouble. And he knew his fellow bronzerider had aspirations to be Weyrleader and that would be a sad day for Southern indeed. Still there had to be some redeeming character about the man, otherwise he wouldn't have Impressed a bronze. Hopefully. "If you will not sit, let me walk you somewhere?"

[saidaltam]

Siten hadn't realized the man was R'lyn's son. As a matter of fact, she hadn't realized R'lyn had had a son. The revelation came as something of a surprise to her, though she stifled it swiftly. Still, she could not help but be just a bit awed. He bore not even the most passing resemblance to the man in the painting. Then again, she'd never known R'lyn's weyrmate, so she supposed he could just look like his mother.

"Power plays are the nature of the Weyr. The games never stop, and they claim every rider whose dragon is larger than a blue. Even the loss of a great man can't change that," she replied softly, not wishing to disturb the mourners, for, like herself and F'shr, she knew that there were those there for no other reason than to pay their respects to a fallen warrior.

The notion of sitting did not appeal to Siten in the slightest. When she became upset, she became restless. Sitting would only set her to fidgeting, and that was hardly conduct befitting a Weyrwoman. She could almost hear R'lyn's firm but kind admonitions of station. Swiftly, she opted for the latter option. "Where would you like to walk?" she asked.

[Femisis]

In all honesty, H'dan didn't know what to think. Everything had gone horribly wrong from start to finish. R'lyn never should have died. He would have been replaced, yes, but in a fair mating flight, not the butchery conducted in the North. Marth was still hurting, he was still hurting, though he'd only had a nice gash opened on his arm. Still, it wasn't easy to get up for the funeral in his condition even if it was the right thing to do. Groaning, H'dan made his way toward the front of the assembly, making a point to say his final fairwells. He tugged uncomfortably at the sling his arm was in, having been forced to wear it by the healer who'd stitched it up. There'd be hell to pay if he pulled them out.

"Weyrwoman, F'sher." He greeted them solemnly, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his good arm. He hadn't slept a wink, what with Castogath's departing bellow reverberating in his mind. Marth could still hear it, too, and it distressed the dragon to no end. The Bronze couldn't even get comfortable enough to lay down, finally settling to lay on his side with his injured hind leg stretched out at an awkward angle all night. Sighing, he banished such thoughts and turned his attention back to the two in front of him. "R'lyn and Castogath will be missed." H'dan told them, sadness leaking into his voice despite his best attempt to hide it. He'd never been particularly close to R'lyn, but that man held the struggling Weyr together for so long... Things were going to be difficult for a while.

[stolenhart]

"Down to the beach", he offered motioning towards the man heigh arches that revealed the beach to the entire dining cavern. "That way you are in sight and no one will accuse me of trying to sway your opinion of me to affect Isiloth's flight", he explained to her, shooting a look at D'mon. "Until Isiloth rises I have leadership of the Weyr since I was R'lyn's second. I would think we should talk about the timing mission", he added by way of explanation just before H'dan came to speak to them.

"H'dan", F'shr gave the man a friendly but stiff nod. H'dan was one of those riders who should have tried to save his father but was too far away, much like F'shr himself. Still he couldn't blame the man entirely, much as he couldn't blame himself. He could only blame the Northern Weyrleader. Didn't the man know you didn't kill dragons? The Northerners completly lacked chivalry and manners. "I was just suggesting to Siten we talk about the mission. Are you planning on going?", he asked the bronzerider.