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For Cwmfen. Backdated to whenever it was Ril’o died. If you’d like your character to have witnessed Ril’o’s laying out or the actual funeral you can incorporate that in other threads or make a quick reply to this AFTER Cwmfen’s SECOND post.
.... When the Adonis had brought the body to her the white lady had been stunned. Still and lifeless, at least the eyes had been pulled closed so that unseeing eyes did not peer out at her. It was not that the Rosea had never encountered death, she knew the realities of the harsh lives they led, but it had never hit so close to home before. Although she knew her mother and brothers had crossed over, she did not see them after they had. The last images of them were those of living, happy beings. The last image she would have of Ril’o would be his funeral rites.
.... Cercelee did not dwell on Cwmfen’s explanation, although the initial fright and upset was hard to ignore. The same male who mangled her mate was now offing members of her pack. And it had been the same male who had spawned the Adonis she trusted with her life. When Cwmfen told her that the monster would soon be taken care of, she could only trust the woad colored women and then focus on the task at hand. Never before had a Dahlian fallen, not while still within their ranks, and Cercelee and Cwmfen had only their own beliefs to draw from. Whatever they did, Cercelee knew that sending off their first fallen member wouldn’t be easy, it was perhaps one of the hardest tasks she would have to ever do.
.... They split the assigned tasks, Cercelee allowing the church kitchen to be used as a staging area as Cwmfen repaired what she could of the body, cleaned as much of the blood away as was possible. The pups were locked out while the Adonis worked, Cercelee worried about Catalyst who had witnessed the whole event. She would allow them to see the body after it was prepared, but not yet. It was hard for her to even look on the corpse, knowing that his soul was inside waiting for a proper sending off. Gratefully she stole away and gathered up the wood and stones, hauling them up the cliff of Nereid, the huge cliff seemed a fitting place for a cemetary. It took her several trips and her body ached when she was finished, but it was her penitence. A pack mate had died under her watch, the big bad wolf had stolen a sheep while the shepherd slept and now there would be no sleep, not until Ril’o was laid to rest.
....Cwmfen arrived with the body as Cercelee finished the pyre, and together they laid him atop it. Cercelee wished she could think of words that were worthy of the male, but instead she gathered the flowers in silence. Red and white lilies dominated the ones Cercelee gathered and she laid them over the male in unison with her Adonis, covering all but his face. As a child she remembered her father telling her spirits saw flowers as lights, and Cercelee hoped that the friendly spirits would flock to Ril’o now, guiding him to whatever came after this life. When they burned him in the morning light, the flowers would burn too, and Ril’o would have no light left to keep him clinging to the pack lands. Hopefully he would go in peace.
.... Once he was ready morning was still hours away, though it seemed they had worked all night. Throwing back her head she called to the pack, sorrowful. Only a few notes but it told the story thoroughly. One of their own had fallen and if they wished, they should come keep watch with them. Nodding to Cwmfen, Cercelee settled against the stones, her navy eyes looking out to the sea. Nothing would happen to Ril’o now, and when morning broke it would be the perfect time to release him. Morning had always been symbolic of a new beginning, and that was all Cercelee had left to give him.
....Cercelee gently and respectfully acknowledge any and all mourners that filtered through, but she did not move from her spot near to the pyre, the wood and kindling piled below Ril’o, the flowers blanketing him. Only when the first pink streaks began to form in the sky did Cercelee rise, gathering the sticks together to create the sparks that would soon engulf her friend. "Thank you Ril’o, Dahlia is proud of you. We’ll miss you." Her voice never rose above a whisper, but she was sure he heard, if the dead could hear. Turning to Cwmfen she nodded, they could release him now.
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