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For Dierdre... with many <3's for this being so late... (when was this meant to be set by the way XD)
The evening was unseasonably warm, despite the scattered snowfalls that had been occurring all day, the sun had somehow warmed the earth enough that it wasn't uncomfortable to be out in the evening. The old church loomed over the churchyard, silhouetted against the rose coloured evening sky, the dominant feature in the old abandoned churchyard. Slowly a dark hand curled around the rusted bars of the old gate and pushed it open, once the gap was large enough to fit through, the ebony lady slipped into the grounds of the church. It was funny that Soran found herself here, the place where her eldest boy had been conceived, so soon after she had seen him and his new state of missing a limb, so much had happened to mother and son and so returning to the place where the pair's joint story had begun was strange for the ebony lady. The tall obsidian fae did not come here often, in fact she had only been here a handful of times, many of the memories she had of this place were tainted with sorrow or pain, except for a couple of times, one of which had been Deuce's ceremony, the celebration of her eldest daughter's life, that had been a wonderful and moving experience for all involved. This memory was potent in Soran's mind as she walked through the graveyard and came upon the place where the ceremony had taken place, she ran her hand over the cold stone of an imposing headstone, carved into the shape of an angel, its wings spread wide as it leant over the grave slightly. It was odd for an angelic statue; this one seemed to be less protecting the body beneath its feet and more threatening everyone around it. The jade eyed lady stared at it for a moment, its sharp pointed nose visible in even this dim evening light.
A soft wind blew through the abandoned churchyard, rustling the brambles and long grasses that had been allowed to grow unchecked since the people had gone. Soran pulled her long curled mane back out of her eyes, tying the loose strands back into a quickly plaited braid, securing the bottom with a strip of tan leather. Long fingers touched the silver pentagram that hung loosely around her neck, along with the piece of flint that she wore, both necklaces had special meaning for the dark lady, she smiled softly as she remembered Deuce giving her the pentagram necklace. Sitting down at the base of the threatening headstone, crossing her long legs, Soran rummaged through her canvas bag. Soon enough the dark lady found what she was looking for, her old flute, she had been to the house where she had hidden her old things when Aremys had been forced from their Syemv-land home and recovered a few items, she had left most of the books, and the heavy crossbow, but had gathered together a few tomes and her flute to take back to the Moaning Woods, which seemed to have become her home.
Slowly, Soran raised the instrument to her lips, struggling to remember how to position them around her pointed teeth to enable her to make the sound she required. Slowly she moved her fingers into position and gave a tentative blow across the instrument; to her delight a soft note filled the air. Pleased that she remembered how to play, the dark lady began to try tunes, soon enough the soft sound of a melody was floating through the air.
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