Post by mahri on Oct 19, 2010 18:17:22 GMT -5
Mahri can't believe just how much gold she had paid for the privelage of digging up her parent's bones and taking them elsewhere. And, over the long treck to the site of the farm, she grumbled the whole way. Behind were her escort and a company of men carrying roughly-hewn caskets from Vailkrin. It wasn't that she couldn't have afforded better, it was just in consideration of the men who would be carrying them back filled with bones. Topping a rise, the lycan pauses and stares out at what had once been a patchwork of fields. An odd-shaped rectangle of tumbled stones marks where the house had once stood and rotting wood not far marks the chicken coop. Swamped with memories that brought the prickle of tears to her eyes, Mahri clears her throat and starts out again at a more sedate pace and certainly much quieter.
Jacklin:: Sapheul stood to the side of the somber scene with the mundane flicker of an orange-tipped cigar lolling from the corner of his lips. A hand idly rolled and unrolled the cuff of his white shirt as the men carrying caskets followed behind the Lycan as she made the trek to where stones marked a life long gone. He certainly wasn’t an evil man, but he was loyal to his master. At one point lips part fully in an attempt to perhaps offer a few words of condolence to the gruff she-beast. Sapheul, instead, removed his cigar and wandered along behind the other men with one eye always on Mahri.
Mahri paid hardly any mind to Sapheul. It isn't that she knew him very well, she didn't but she sensed something mildly gentler about him. He still worked for Jack though, and that was enough to convince the wolf to keep her distance. Coming upon the headstones that have been well kept over the years, she thrusts the shovel into the ground before crouching between them. Upon them reads, "Orean- Father and Husband" along with the dates of his birth and death, the other, a shade of rose-marble has etched onto its surface, "Sharice--Mother and Wife" As well as her dates. Laying a reverent hand upon the stones, Mahri bows her head between them and gives into the grief as though it were new and fresh yet. "Forgive me," is quietly said before she stands and begins the task of desecrating their resting place.
Jacklin:: Sapheul came to rest just to the left of Mahri. As she looked, so did the guardian. Mouthing the words slowly to himself as he bent forward to touch the beautifully etched picture on the stones worn face. A rumpled face slid to where the woman crouched between her family’s stones, hand retrieved slowly, he gave the relative stranger a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Sucking the cigar to the other side of his mouth the swarthy escort took a step back, “I’ll be here if you need a hand, miss."
Mahri snaps, perhaps unfairly at the man, "I don't need ye bloody 'elp." Anger makes her a bit tempermental. Gripping the handle of her shovel, the scoop is shoved in and a pile of dirt removed. Her father first..he'd always come first. As she dug, the woman remembered the innocent she'd been and compared the younger to what stood here now. Selfdisgust has her working harder and faster than she probably really needed to but it got the job done. When a pile of earth lay next to the grave, she motions to the men carrying the larger of the two caskets. In the hole, wrapped lovingly in sheets, lie the decomposed remains of Orean. "Be careful wit' him," her voice croaks past the thickness in her throat of unshed tears. Those will come later, in private. Wiping sweat from her brow, Mahri smears the dirt-turned-mud.
Jacklin:: Sapheul wasn’t affected in the least. A sweat beaded brow wrinkled only briefly to focus on the face of the snapping Lycan. Again the cuffs of his shirt were rolled and unrolled, tucked and toyed with for lack of better ways to put his hands to use. As the dirt mound grew the Queen’s guardian began to rock on the balls of his boots. It wasn’t a scene he much enjoyed, this one here. Silently he watched as Mahri dug, directed, and continued her frenzied digging. Mahri, Sapheul knew her kind. The bravery was as see-though as the dancer’s skirts in Cenril. Even if her face didn’t betray the sadness she felt, her voice did. A body always gave signs the mind wanted to hide. In another effort to be the better man he withdrew a small grey handkerchief from his pocket and dropped it over the shoulder of the woman and into her lap. With a clearing of his throat the escort stepped back into his proper place.
Mahri mumbles something that might have been a thanks and blew her nose in the cloth after wiping the grime from her face. Since the first bout of digging had tempered her anger and grief, she pointed to the second shovel dropped not too far away. "If ye wouldn' mind." Whether or not Sapheul picks up the shovel and digs, Mahri'll put her back into the work. Slowly the dirt piles up and the sun goes down, leaving a chill in the northern outskirts of Larket.
Jacklin:: Sapheul, without a word, scoops the shovel up with a gallant grace and begins the task of excavation at the side of the homeless woman. She was no longer part of Larket, he knew, and so any comfort given was done by his own volition. For Sapheul his volition was unlike that of his Queen’s or the other guards. He was a simple man and working to help a woman dig up her parents remains was the only proper thing to do. Silently and carefully he scoops up small shovels of soil to deposit onto the growing mound, a small grave itself by this point. As the sun drew from the sky he barely made mention of the darkness. Neither could stop until the task was done.
Mahri barely notices the bit of the wind as it picks up, but the scent of a storm on the way has her raising her head as the last shovel full joins the mound. Climbing from the hole, she stakes the ground with the shovel and offers her hand to Sapheul, the skin pink still from healing after being crushed..and it has the thumb still attached. "Thanks," she'll say, whether or not the offer of a hand-up is taken. While the second coffin is carefully laoded, Mahri uses the cloth to once more wipe her face and hands it back towards Sapheul. "We'll leave, soon's the coffins are closed. Assumin' ye need to follow along t'make sure I'm gone, aye?"
Jacklin:: Sapheul takes the offered hand as to not be considered rude. A quick look at her hand revealed the truth to the stories he’d heard about the torture administered for the crime committed. Mahri was a murderer. His Queen was the Executioner. Both women were causalities of weed-ridden path and if any two were more alike it had to be them. Still clutching the hand of the woman after he steadied himself on the solid earth he quirked a brow at one difference. Mahri, unlike Jacklin, had the gentleness he’d suspected. Withdrawing his hand the guard watched as the others loaded the last coffin with the remains, “I’ve orders, miss. I’ll not touch you along the way.” Tucking the cloth back into his shirt pocket he nodded to Mahri in indication of his readiness to follow.
Mahri isn't unaware of the man's scrutiny and avoided making direct eye contact with him. Instead, the moment he releases her hand, the lycan gathers up the shovels and tosses them as far away as possible. "I'm ready then." Leaving behind her past--all of it--she begins the treck back to the bridge that will take her back to the forests of Sage. From there, the reburiel will be done privately. That way she can let the tears flow when they came.
Jacklin:: Sapheul gave a nod to the avoiding face of the woman and settled into a slower gait behind her. A funeral procession for the already-buried dead was a morbid scene as the passed from the dismantled burial sight and from the boundaries of Larket.
Mahri pauses at the bridge and lets the bearers go first. These were men she'd hired aside from paying for escort and they already knew where to take the boxes. She will wait for Sapheul to come along side her before turning her gaze from the procession and eying the man curiously. "Give my thanks to your Queen and tell her that she's wrong about Pars and myself. Maybe she'll listen to you even if the message is from me." A wry sort of grin twists her lips before she nods to the man and gives a last look towards the city behind her.
Jacklin:: Sapheul nodded courtesy to Mahri as she spoke, meeting her in the eye as he returned fire promptly, “She is a bad woman. Everyone has a bad side. She may hold a bad place in your mind but she has good things. The carnal delights of you and the King have no place in my mind.” Words were evidently not his strong suit. Watching the bearers fade out of sight he introduced his eyes to Mahri’s face again, “I will tell her for you though.” Tipping the bill of his flat cap the swarthy escort waited, as orders directed him too, until Mahri faded from the bridge as well.
Mahri has to grit her teeth to explain there had been ~no~ delights, carnal or otherwise, between herself and Parsithius. Thinking it to be a useless excersize anyway, she merely nods and turns sharply on her heel to follow the bearers and finish this morbid transfer.
Jacklin:: Sapheul stood to the side of the somber scene with the mundane flicker of an orange-tipped cigar lolling from the corner of his lips. A hand idly rolled and unrolled the cuff of his white shirt as the men carrying caskets followed behind the Lycan as she made the trek to where stones marked a life long gone. He certainly wasn’t an evil man, but he was loyal to his master. At one point lips part fully in an attempt to perhaps offer a few words of condolence to the gruff she-beast. Sapheul, instead, removed his cigar and wandered along behind the other men with one eye always on Mahri.
Mahri paid hardly any mind to Sapheul. It isn't that she knew him very well, she didn't but she sensed something mildly gentler about him. He still worked for Jack though, and that was enough to convince the wolf to keep her distance. Coming upon the headstones that have been well kept over the years, she thrusts the shovel into the ground before crouching between them. Upon them reads, "Orean- Father and Husband" along with the dates of his birth and death, the other, a shade of rose-marble has etched onto its surface, "Sharice--Mother and Wife" As well as her dates. Laying a reverent hand upon the stones, Mahri bows her head between them and gives into the grief as though it were new and fresh yet. "Forgive me," is quietly said before she stands and begins the task of desecrating their resting place.
Jacklin:: Sapheul came to rest just to the left of Mahri. As she looked, so did the guardian. Mouthing the words slowly to himself as he bent forward to touch the beautifully etched picture on the stones worn face. A rumpled face slid to where the woman crouched between her family’s stones, hand retrieved slowly, he gave the relative stranger a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Sucking the cigar to the other side of his mouth the swarthy escort took a step back, “I’ll be here if you need a hand, miss."
Mahri snaps, perhaps unfairly at the man, "I don't need ye bloody 'elp." Anger makes her a bit tempermental. Gripping the handle of her shovel, the scoop is shoved in and a pile of dirt removed. Her father first..he'd always come first. As she dug, the woman remembered the innocent she'd been and compared the younger to what stood here now. Selfdisgust has her working harder and faster than she probably really needed to but it got the job done. When a pile of earth lay next to the grave, she motions to the men carrying the larger of the two caskets. In the hole, wrapped lovingly in sheets, lie the decomposed remains of Orean. "Be careful wit' him," her voice croaks past the thickness in her throat of unshed tears. Those will come later, in private. Wiping sweat from her brow, Mahri smears the dirt-turned-mud.
Jacklin:: Sapheul wasn’t affected in the least. A sweat beaded brow wrinkled only briefly to focus on the face of the snapping Lycan. Again the cuffs of his shirt were rolled and unrolled, tucked and toyed with for lack of better ways to put his hands to use. As the dirt mound grew the Queen’s guardian began to rock on the balls of his boots. It wasn’t a scene he much enjoyed, this one here. Silently he watched as Mahri dug, directed, and continued her frenzied digging. Mahri, Sapheul knew her kind. The bravery was as see-though as the dancer’s skirts in Cenril. Even if her face didn’t betray the sadness she felt, her voice did. A body always gave signs the mind wanted to hide. In another effort to be the better man he withdrew a small grey handkerchief from his pocket and dropped it over the shoulder of the woman and into her lap. With a clearing of his throat the escort stepped back into his proper place.
Mahri mumbles something that might have been a thanks and blew her nose in the cloth after wiping the grime from her face. Since the first bout of digging had tempered her anger and grief, she pointed to the second shovel dropped not too far away. "If ye wouldn' mind." Whether or not Sapheul picks up the shovel and digs, Mahri'll put her back into the work. Slowly the dirt piles up and the sun goes down, leaving a chill in the northern outskirts of Larket.
Jacklin:: Sapheul, without a word, scoops the shovel up with a gallant grace and begins the task of excavation at the side of the homeless woman. She was no longer part of Larket, he knew, and so any comfort given was done by his own volition. For Sapheul his volition was unlike that of his Queen’s or the other guards. He was a simple man and working to help a woman dig up her parents remains was the only proper thing to do. Silently and carefully he scoops up small shovels of soil to deposit onto the growing mound, a small grave itself by this point. As the sun drew from the sky he barely made mention of the darkness. Neither could stop until the task was done.
Mahri barely notices the bit of the wind as it picks up, but the scent of a storm on the way has her raising her head as the last shovel full joins the mound. Climbing from the hole, she stakes the ground with the shovel and offers her hand to Sapheul, the skin pink still from healing after being crushed..and it has the thumb still attached. "Thanks," she'll say, whether or not the offer of a hand-up is taken. While the second coffin is carefully laoded, Mahri uses the cloth to once more wipe her face and hands it back towards Sapheul. "We'll leave, soon's the coffins are closed. Assumin' ye need to follow along t'make sure I'm gone, aye?"
Jacklin:: Sapheul takes the offered hand as to not be considered rude. A quick look at her hand revealed the truth to the stories he’d heard about the torture administered for the crime committed. Mahri was a murderer. His Queen was the Executioner. Both women were causalities of weed-ridden path and if any two were more alike it had to be them. Still clutching the hand of the woman after he steadied himself on the solid earth he quirked a brow at one difference. Mahri, unlike Jacklin, had the gentleness he’d suspected. Withdrawing his hand the guard watched as the others loaded the last coffin with the remains, “I’ve orders, miss. I’ll not touch you along the way.” Tucking the cloth back into his shirt pocket he nodded to Mahri in indication of his readiness to follow.
Mahri isn't unaware of the man's scrutiny and avoided making direct eye contact with him. Instead, the moment he releases her hand, the lycan gathers up the shovels and tosses them as far away as possible. "I'm ready then." Leaving behind her past--all of it--she begins the treck back to the bridge that will take her back to the forests of Sage. From there, the reburiel will be done privately. That way she can let the tears flow when they came.
Jacklin:: Sapheul gave a nod to the avoiding face of the woman and settled into a slower gait behind her. A funeral procession for the already-buried dead was a morbid scene as the passed from the dismantled burial sight and from the boundaries of Larket.
Mahri pauses at the bridge and lets the bearers go first. These were men she'd hired aside from paying for escort and they already knew where to take the boxes. She will wait for Sapheul to come along side her before turning her gaze from the procession and eying the man curiously. "Give my thanks to your Queen and tell her that she's wrong about Pars and myself. Maybe she'll listen to you even if the message is from me." A wry sort of grin twists her lips before she nods to the man and gives a last look towards the city behind her.
Jacklin:: Sapheul nodded courtesy to Mahri as she spoke, meeting her in the eye as he returned fire promptly, “She is a bad woman. Everyone has a bad side. She may hold a bad place in your mind but she has good things. The carnal delights of you and the King have no place in my mind.” Words were evidently not his strong suit. Watching the bearers fade out of sight he introduced his eyes to Mahri’s face again, “I will tell her for you though.” Tipping the bill of his flat cap the swarthy escort waited, as orders directed him too, until Mahri faded from the bridge as well.
Mahri has to grit her teeth to explain there had been ~no~ delights, carnal or otherwise, between herself and Parsithius. Thinking it to be a useless excersize anyway, she merely nods and turns sharply on her heel to follow the bearers and finish this morbid transfer.