A Rose For Each Life Lost (5/1, morning, ALL)

[Lucius Kaedon DeLauncey]

He had known that when he picked up the rose they ask questions. He had known they would notice, but at that tender moment, Lucius hadn’t cared. They didn’t know and they didn’t need to know, although now that the hint was there, Lucius knew his caring family would not leave him alone. Thelonius was on one side and Eveline on the other, both asking him questions with their voices held as low as humanly possible.

He wasn’t going to talk about it here. He patted Lars on the back and gave him a half smile. “We all have our secrets man. I’m planning to keep mine. But yeah. Yeah...” He trailed off, still watching the rose in the ocean.

He slipped his hand into his sister’s and squeezed softly. He’d seen her rose, the one for Henry, the damn stupid Fitzwulf she still seemed to love. Eveline DeLauncey deserved better than some northren scum. But he could understand her pain, and he would not chide her about her choices here. “Your red rose needed company,” he told her softly. “I can’t have my only sister be the only one with pain in her heart.”

[Eveline DeLauncey]

Eveline's fingers laced with her brothers and she squeezed them together, but still the look of concern was on her face, drawing her brows together in confusion. His words about Henry sent a lightening bolt through her body, though, and a flush rose to Eveline's face. She didn't like talking about Henry, the man-that-was, her once betrothed, now moldering in the ground. She didn't enjoy the idea that anyone knew how much it still held on to her, but these were her brothers. They knew so much even with asking so little.

"... Thank you, I suppose," Eveline said softly, trying to read her brother's expression. But it was Lucius, and he had turned off whatever he was thinking so quickly when he didn't want her to know. She paused for a moment, and then sighed, shaking her head slightly.

"You are a mystery these days, Luca," she whispered finally, her voice slightly tense.

[Iridia Harcourt]

Iridia had moved up to the lakeside with her twin in tow, a few white roses clasped in her hand. Her little cousin, her aunt. A few childhood friends. Iridia's heart called out to them, but she did not harbor the same devastation she seemed to see clutching the faces and emotions of many of the people around her. She glanced briefly at Isaac, who is turn gave her a half-hearted smile and pinched at the fabric at her elbow, a silent signal of support. In that moment, Iridia thought about losing her twin, and a flush came to her face. She could not imagine surviving such grief. Gently, she let them fall among the already thickening patch of roses, skimming the surface of the lake.

But it was Lucius DeLauncey who caught her attention. She had seen little of him since that night, so recent, that they had, quite literally, fallen into one another's company. And she would be lying if she said she had not spared a few lingering thoughts on the DeLauncey man. But seeing him now, casting off one red rose -- red.

Intriguing.

And clearly his own family saw this to be an unusual twist of events, as Iridia watched with mild curiosity as the only DeLauncey sister rushed to her brother's side, one of those handsome twins moving to speak with them both. Interesting, indeed.

[Reagan Morgandy]

Reagan had decided to wait for a while after Cordelia placed her roses. Although not one for these sorts of open displays of sentimentality, Reagan wanted to savor the time.

Placing her mother's rose on the lake's surface had been the most poignant to Reagan, at first. Vanora Morgandy had been a proud but level-headed woman, whose attributes were so resolutely shining through Cordelia, now, as bannerwoman. Reagan lay Brietta's white rose down gently on the water's surface. It had been plucked early, that was evident, and was still small and supple. Fitting. And for a moment, Reagan stilled, twisting the stem of the last white rose between her fingers. Tristen.

She was silent, and for a moment, her grey eyes clouded over.

And then with that, Reagan cast off the flower into the lake, sending ripples across the surface as it made contact. They were dead. This would not change. She and Cordelia had to look to the future now, together. Reagan's face was now impassive as she moved to take her place once more at her sister's side, and she tightened the shawl around her shoulders, her eyes blank. Emotionless.

[Lorelei Linnet]

Lorelei looked up at Osiris and placed her hand in his. He was a good brother-in-law, and she felt far more comfortable with him than with Hakim. “They will be missed,” she said soft, “But the roses. They are so beautiful. Do you plan to say anything once everyone has finished?” The North didn’t believe in the same gods, but Osiris had of a way of making that fact seem so trivial.

She watched as her daughter and husband also placed their roses. She felt pride at how dignified Aesha looked. And when Abby placed her roses and returned, Lorelei’s heart went out for the girl. She dropped Osiris’ hand and wrapped her arms around Abby tightly. “I know what’s it’s like to lose your mother,” she whispered softly. “I’m here if you ever need to cry.”

[Astera Linnet]

She thought she had said her goodbyes years ago, but as Astera gazed out upon the lake whose surface was a mosaic of heart break and pain she realized that she had never said good bye. The revelation pierced her like an arrow and she was filled with the deepest shame and a sorrow so profound that she was unable to stop the tears. Oh cursed tears, she had vowed to be strong, she was a grown woman now and tears were not becoming. But nor would they stop.

She clutched the stems of the roses in her hand, feeling the thorns breaking the skin of her palms. The pain served as a reminder of life and the legacy that her parents had left in their wake. She stood on the edge of the lake a long moment with her head bowed. She suffered her sorrow alone, apart from the others. It had been years since she had allowed her thoughts to do more than brush against the memories of her mother and father. But now she was forced to face them head on and they came in a rush. Her mother’s gentle hands, then smell of her perfume and the glass ornament she kept on her dresser that Astera had coveted. Her father’s hands, big and strong as they held her close, keeping her safe and secure, his booming laugh that could shake the foundations, the smell of peppermint.

She clung to the roses, she didn’t want to let go. To release the roses would be let go of her parents, to acknowledge their loss, to face it honestly. She stared at the roses, blurred through her tear laden lashes. She was so ashamed, ashamed of crying here in front of her family and the entire court, and ashamed that she had hidden the memories of her parents away from her head and her heart as if they had made the choice to leave. Astera knelt at the lake shore, shaking with the effort as she placed the roses on the surface. Her heart constricted painfully as she watched her parents carried by the rippling waves to join the myriad of colors that had spread to the middle of the lake.

She stood there and watched until with a dull ache she realized she could no longer find her parents in the greater picture of melancholy and mourning.

[Isabella Fontenot]

Isabella had not been looking forward to this day. She knew it was to commemorate the dead, to honor their memory, but she did not like being reminded of the tremendous loss the country...her family... had suffered at the hands of the illness. She held tighter to Esmeé as they approached the pool. Quintin a few steps behind them. Isabella took some roses and gave it to her children to throw. Flowers for their father, brother, uncle and aunt, cousins, friends...

So many lives lost.

Isabella guided her children to the water's edge. She watched them as they threw the roses in, one by one. A mix of pride and sadness swelled within her as she thought of what her children were doing and what each rose meant.

Fighting off tears, she knew she had to be strong for her family. She knew that convention and politics required her to marry again as soon as she was finished with her mourning period, but until then, she would have to be both mother and father to her children, niece and nephew. She would have to be strong when they could not.

As her children came back to her, Isabella smiled. "Well done," she whispered to them both as she kissed them on their heads and pulled them closer to her. "Your father would have been proud."

She walked them back to where the Fontenot family stood, looking as more people threw their roses into the water. Isabella caught Adrien's eye and nodded to him as she stood next to her family. "This was a wonderful gesture, my dear. The Kingdom will appreciate your compassion." He may make a good king yet.

[Cassius Theodore DeLauncey]

Cassius was oblivious to the exchange between his siblings, too absorbed in his own thoughts.

His eyes still followed the few scattered white roses he had already cast into the lake, remnants of his sister-in-law, his uncle, his only nephew. A few childhood friends. Servants, stewards. All moving to mingle with the tangible memories of the rest of the Vandermark. His family made Cassius terribly proud; no one was left behind. Atlanta de Valle and her son would be carried in their hearts forever. He had even cast off one for Sophita's mother, and her fallen brothers. He owed them so much, for keeping her safe... wherever she was now. But it was the last two roses he twisted in the palm of his hand that were stalling Cassius.

His father, and Rufus. Lords of the Mark. The title -- it was theirs, a blood-rite. The first born sons, descendants of the Kings of Dorwall, pillars made from the very earth itself. Cassius thought back, fleetingly, to folk legend he had been told about the blood that flowed through his very veins, blood of the Old Kings, of a curse and blessing that had been bestowed upon these leaders among average men. Of the burden that the first sons bore.

So where did that leave Cassius?

As he lay them down upon the water's edge, he found that the thick leaves and thorns of the separate blooms were keeping them attached as they floated on the lake's surface. Something about that made sense -- and deeply unsettled the Guardian of the Mark.

"I'm sorry," was all he murmured.

[Jolie Fleurant]

What was Jolie Fleurant? Nothing but the picture of a heartbroken maiden, a few stray tears lightly flowing down her cheeks as she watched the display with a reservation that could mirror the saddest faces at the gathering. Black, blonde, tall and regal in suffering. She pushed the spider webbed colored vail back over her eyes, the flowers of every color except for that of children adorning her arms. Her tropical blue eyes seeming more hazy in this drearily light as if she was the one effecting the weather and not the sad occasion. If anyone could look so good in mourning, It was Jolie. Even her tears seemed to express a noble beauty.

It was not with a quiet hand she let the roses drift from her hands, but she gathered them up and tossed them into the sea in one graceful sweep of her arms. Black gown blowing with the slight breeze making the moment all that much more dramatic with her serene expression of releasing the pain into those very winds.

She wanted people to look. She wanted the king to sneak a peak at the openly suffering maid above all others and feel the need to protect such a fragile creature from the harsh world. She was a Fleurant, there were enough dead in her land to color her in petals. It was only the last moment she made a slow movement to let a single red rose drift away on the colorful waters. The love unfulfilled was as good as dead one in her eyes.

Yet she had her head down turned, eyes still glazed as if she starred off into some distant past, as if it had been she holding her parents hand as the sickness tore them violently away from the world. As if it was she who had watched the life go out of their eyes and watch as they collected the cold bodies and helped drop them into the ground. Such honest and pure sadness coated her beautiful features that it could not possibly be faked.
Or could it?

While the act played on, unbroken by family she returned to stand behind then letting her black vale coil around her pretty face once again. She had done what needed to be done. This whole damn party was an idiotic waste of time and good flowers. Sure enough she could see the political implications and they were quite cleaver she would admit, but did she really give a rats arse? No. Her parents were dead. Her cousins, siblings, aunts and uncles? Ha. Are you kidding me? It was a just as well, no more unwanted children would spit from between her mother's legs, no more new family members to have to worry about outshining you and stealing all the well off men. She could have rolled her eyes at the scene before her, cursed and kicked the weeping women and men off the shore to join their silly roses and tears to drown in the dark cold waters. If they really were having such a hard time with life then she would have no problems with them joining their dearly departed. Despite her internal struggles not to laugh at and insult the masses she held form just as well as when she first stepped out of her room this morning prepared for a day of remembering those that were gone from this world. You could never say she wasn't committed to this craft of illusions and gambles.

[Geoffry Tanear]

Geoffry was never far from the King's party during the Ceremony, but for one moment. The Lord Captain of the Five Horns, dressed in a dark purple tunic, his sword at his side and the gold cloak of his order hanging from his shoulders, took his leave from the party for a minute, indicating that this was something he would like his own time for. This was such a time that Geoffry needed to put his own mind to rest.

He picked up a number of yellow roses, for some of the guardsmen and Horns he had served with, and a white rose for his nephew, Ronald Tanear. But, as would be much to the surprise of many acquainted with the Lord Captain's devotion to duty, he stood, hesitant to pick up a red rose. Geoffry had never been married (except, mayhaps, to his duty to the Royal House whose crest he bore) and for all the years he served, he had never openly had a love affair with anyone.

Yet, for most of the years he served, he had loved a woman, even though that love was forbidden by his vows to knighthood and the crown. She had been younger than him: a beautiful, kind and gentle woman, with light brown hair and shining green eyes. He had never pursued the affection, and rightly so, for she had been married and her birth was higher than his. Adamant as he felt in his devotion to duty, Geoffry came up with a compromise. He had rode tourneys in her favour, as a loyal friend (and only when her husband wasn't competing), who always stood ready to help her and her children. But further than that - alas - it could never have gone, for Geoffry was a Horn of the King, and he lived his life in the whole-hearted pursuit of his vows and duties.

Though he mourned her passing, Geoffry never regretted the fact that he could never have pursued his affection. He had simply acquiesced, and willed himself to behave as a true knight and friend to his lady. But after all these years, he still remembered. What will it hurt to acknowledge the hurt of a love lost, even an inaccessible one? he asked himself in silence.

Geoffry tenderly picked up a red rose and, after all other roses, set it afloat on the waters of Bellelac. For a few minutes, he gazed with the melancholy of an old man as the rose floated off, then turned back towards the King's party.

[Tiberius Lexington DeLauncey]

So much sadness. Lex had hoped that they day be sunny, to reflect the light that those who had been lost had let into the lives of those they knew and loved. But perhaps it was proper, for it to be somber and sad. Death was a difficult thing to get over, especially when it had touched so many so closely. Some people, he was sure, must have lost everyone. It was enough to make him feel very, very lucky.

Moving toward the lake, he lifted the appropriate number and colour of roses. His gait was slow, reverent as he said a prayer over the blooms he held. He knelt down at the edge, placing those blossoms for the people he wasn't related to in the water one by one and nudging them so they would float toward the center; for some reason, tossing the flowers just didn't feel right.

Those flowers for his family he gathered together, and with a prayer on his lips he braided the long stems together. DeLaunceys stood together, and in remembering those they had lost, that unity would be represented. He placed a kiss on the bundle of stems, knowing that there was truly where the heart and life of a flower lay, and then he tossed the bouquet into the water. The stems sank, but the blooms stayed afloat, and it made him smile; his family always did have a knack for keeping their heads up.

His moment done, he turned and rejoined his family, coming to stand beside his twin. Something had happened, attention focused on Lucius, but now was not the time for him to ask. If Lucius wanted him to know, he would tell him; Lex would not pry.

[Helena Fournier]

She had been staying to the back of all those assembled. People had come forward in dribs and drabs, some casting many, some casting few, but all too soon the lake was full of small bobbing flowers. So many...so many dead, this was just the nobility and those they interlinked to. Gods above would only know what it would look like were they to have allowed others to participate too. Helena was sure it would not so much be a lake, than a garden. There seemed something final about it, getting that closure, but she had already vowed to not get sucked into the ritual. It was a giveaway when she needed to be careful and she could mourn her own way. That was what she had kept telling herself.

It had very nearly worked.

Something about standing here, knowing her family and their friends went unhonoured seemed disrespectful. Her father had been too ill to come and she was all that was left, so she was the representative of her family here. When a girl, even younger than herself came forward and placed two down so softly that she was almost terrified of shattering them, before promptly spilling tears and moving away. It was just two, for her family...was it brothers? Sisters? It felt wrong to look, but she couldn't see the girl's parents. Was it...for her mother and father? If that little girl, brave as she was, could dare to do it then Helena found it difficult to reason that she couldn't. So, in her black attire, married with a dark emerald colour for her house, she stepped gingerly forwards and began to pick the roses and place them delicately upon the water's surface.

One of the Delauncey twins had done something which she had found wonderfully sweet - Tied the roses together, to bind the lives they represented. It was something she was going to copy, because it wouldn't make sense to her otherwise. A red rose, intertwined with two pink ones were first. "Because you couldn't be here to do it, father." She said, just loudly enough to carry all she cared it to. Then, it was her own. Helena paused, unsure if she dare, but decided to continue. First was three yellow and white, tied together, from her, for all her family were also friends. Then, casting a careful look around, a seperate and single red rose. How she hoped Cassius did not see.

It was all she could do to hold the tears back enough from wracking her with a full sob, for while she had no spouse or lover, Sophitia had. And he, Cassius, was very much alive. But Sophitia was not and he didn't even know. Would not have been able to know to put a flower in the lake for his lost love...because if he did know that...It simply didn't bear thinking about. She swallowed, trying to chase away the tears through force of will, but could not. So she turned and made to go back to her place...looking right at Cassius accidentally.

Swiftly, she replaced the veil and hurried to the back of the proceedings. All she could hope was that he had not seen her.

[Drusilla Forthwind]

Drusilla arrived with roses, each that represented each member of her family that had passed into the next life. Some had gone over to the other side too early. The last Equitatus, it was her duty to see that her family were offered this respect and to show them that she still cared for them. One was dropped for her father, a man who would thankfully never know of the darkness that had befallen his house and her mother, a woman of the highest virtue. Both were represented. Then Jonas, her eldest brother and the former Lord, his wife and their three children. All received roses.

Drusilla had already grieved for her family. Years ago, the dauntless woman wore a stoic face to the pain that had recently awoken.

Then Octavian and his wife, a rose was dropped for each of them as well.

Drusilla dropped one for her youngest brother, Justinus and his wife. A twitch of her lips as the third rose was dropped for their son, Lucius and a rose was dropped for him as well.

But there were two people she grieved for more then the others. Her former husband and son, both of who were killed by assassination. Both unable to truly defend their house. Her hand clenched tightly around the stems of the last two roses, the finest and she remembered the life that had been torn from her. She had children now, children she loved dearly and along with her husband. Drusilla did not wish to show any of these people her tears. What would they say behind closed doors?

Two rebellious tears were shed and trailed down her cheeks. She muttered a prayer to the Gods, half an apology and half in remembrance as the roses were dropped.

[Lucius Kaedon DeLauncey]

Mystery, yes, but he rather liked it that way. He always had. He paused to watch as the rest of his family – Cassius, Tibs, and others – moved to place their roses in the lake. There were still hundreds of people to go, lesser lords, sworn knights, houses with minor holdings in Belleile, and even some of the servants had been given leave to come and put their roses in the lake. This was, after all, a time to remember everyone.

“You’re welcome, Ev,” Lucius replied just a softly, as though they both knew the subject that hung between them was far too painful to speak of much louder. He looked up then, only to catch the eye of Iridia Harcourt staring at him. Obviously she too had noticed the rose. He turned away just as fast, catching sight of Elysia, memories of archery rushing back as well. Gods, he shouldn’t have touched that rose and let the memories stayed buried where they belonged.

And kept his sights set on the women who were still alive.

[Eveline DeLauncey]

Eveline said nothing to her brother now, her green eyes returning to the lake before them, the slight wavering of the lake surface moving their roses about, some sinking, some remaining afloat. She felt troubled now, even moreso than she had originally when she woke that morning -- actively reliving these tragedies was hard enough, but now Lucius... Eveline closed her eyes momentarily, trying to free herself from the dark fingers of those thoughts.

But when she opened them again, she found herself fixated on another young woman, who could not be much older than herself. The colors of her dress, no doubt that of her House, seemed vaguely familiar... and so did that face, which Eveline could not rightly see from the veil that covered her visage...

[Cassius Theodore DeLauncey]

Cassius had returned to his family's side, his thoughts far away, back in the Hollows. Absorbed in dark memories and a strangely pervasive sense of guilt for breathing, Cassius let his eyes wander without really thinking. They, possibly at the same time as his sister's, landed on the form of a solitary young woman, moving forward from the crowd to place her roses on the lakeside with the rest. Cassius felt empathy for this young woman -- not that he hadn't for all the rest, but the movements she made suggested she was truly alone, and the practical bouquet of roses made it clear she had lost a great deal; perhaps her entire family. But the longer Cassius watched her, the more he felt like he was experiencing a great deal of deja vu -- something seemed terribly familiar about this. The colors of her dress, the lush hair that lay loose about her shoulders. That form, the way she moved -- something so familiar, and yet not exactly how he remembered --

Sophita.

"Sophita," Cassius said abruptly, his voice a little too loud for his realization. "Sophita!" he said again, this time it all coming back to him, flooding his memory. There she was, his darling girl, his beautiful Sophita, the woman he loved above all else -- standing right before him. He almost caught her eye and suddenly the veil was back over her face and she was gone, darting through the crowd, gone as quickly as she came. Leaving.

Away from him. She was running away from him.

He didn't give himself even a moment to think. As quickly as she departed, Cassius was at her heels, shoving his way through the crowd. "Sophita -- Sophita, look at me!" Cassius spoke, his voice a hair too loud for the company they were keeping. She had managed to evade him all the way to the back of the crowds, and by now they were a few yards away from even the most lingering servants. He had tried to keep his voice low, so as not to attract attention away from the somber ceremony taking place. But nonetheless, he finally caught her, grabbing at Sophita's arm and wrenching her none-too-gently towards him. He instantly regretted his man-handling of his beloved, but he had not seen her in over two years -- and it was building up. The lack of letters, the evasive tone of her writing -- avoiding him since they all landed on the island. And now, this. His thoughts screeched back to her movements at the lakeside. One red rose, cast asunder everything Cassius had been believing about the strength of their unity all this time -- what had happened? What was happening now?

"Sophita, stop --!" Cassius wrenched her toward him now, trying to grapple with the mixed emotions of elation at finally seeing her and frustration with her evident desire to evade him. He moved then, to brush away her veil. "Sophita, look at me --"

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre Faerald had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped that day, in quiet reflection of those who had passed in that frightening decade. For once, she took little notice of the roses laid down by the other lords and ladies of the realm, and quietly watched each of her family members as they laid down their roses for those among the deceased who'd shared their blood. She was garbed in dreary black, as seemed fitting, but white silk and pearls accented the gown. This was a day of death, contemplation. Admittedly, she had not looked forward to it, but it had to be treated with the solemnity it deserved.

The first three white roses that she carried to the water were for her older relatives, Maereus, Corenna, and Haluin - familial faces she could hardly remember, no matter how hard she tried. They lived on in her parent's fond stories, and she wished dearly to have had an opportunity to get to know them. Never again, she vowed silently. Had she been older, she would've had a chance to truly remember the powerful high lord, the pretty and kind queen, and her erudite uncle with the honor they deserved. Now, she would not allow herself to forget anyone else so easily.

Her last rose was for Artur. Her dear, gentle youngest brother... He was perhaps not as spirited as Deirdre and her other siblings had been, but in place of their fire, he was always a calming presence. He had been so small when he knew her, but Deirdre held him in high regard, particularly in the wake of his tragic passing. As she dropped it into the water, she had to force herself to blink back tears. He would have been wise, she guessed, but sensitive. Artur would have known how to get through to her now elusive eldest brother, Aiden. Deirdre was sure of this. If only he could've been standing there with her family today...

The water looked beautiful, almost even magical, with the roses lazily drifting along its clear surface, but it was hard to see it as anything but sad. So many lives among them had been snuffed out. Who knew how many were spread throughout the kingdom, even beyond this party of grieving nobility? After a moment's hesitation, she took another rose to send off - for the nursemaid, the cook's boy, the ladies' maid, the stablehand, and any others who had vanished from the Keep of the Harp of Caerthynas over the last ten years. She briefly considered giving them individual roses, but decided against it. It felt greedy, somehow, and in such a dour mood, Deirdre found it difficult to be so bold.

She held up two fingers and kissed them, pressing them to the rose's white petals before she placed it down. For everyone in the kingdom who was lost. I hope Amelie's arms accepted you kindly... She had to supress a shudder at even the thought. And I hope you weren't afraid.

The only thing that saw fit to jar her from her train of thought was the sudden sound of hushed calls from a man pushing his way through the crowd. Her head jerked up, and Deirdre's eyes narrowed as she tried to discern the meaning of the curious interruption. It sounded like a woman's name, and she watched as a young man apparently from the DeLauncey family took off after -- someone.

[Aurora Fontenot]

Aurora hated that they had to this in front of everyone. She wore a simple dress of back, with some gold trim here and there, and basic gold jewelry to match. Her hair was down, and she had chosen to wear a veil, mostly so that she could avoid the eyes of everyone at the opening of the ceremony.

At least it didn’t take very long, she thought, as she walked up to the roses with Adrien. Aurora picked up on one, believe that Adrien had their family covered. Her rose was for someone very special to herself that she had lost… Someone who could never be replaced. Or maybe it was for everyone, for all of her family that she had lost. Or even more, the entire realm. It was hard to say, but Aurora didn’t want to think about it.

Once they approached the lake, Aurora let Adrien and Bertram go first. Finally, she was last, and she lingered there, even though before she had been eager to leave. Finally, then, as gracefully as she could, she dropped the rose into the water. Aurora stood beside Adrien, and waited for him to say his words. After that was done, she wasted no time in slipping through the crowds.

[Helena Fournier]

"Sophita, stop --!" Cassius wrenched her toward him now, trying to grapple with the mixed emotions of elation at finally seeing her and frustration with her evident desire to evade him. He moved then, to brush away her veil. "Sophita, look at me --"

It wasn't that she was being ignorant, it was that in her haste, the name wasn't registering. After all, she was not Sophitia. Why would she know to respond to the name? She was moving as fast as she could away from the event, before it settled in and she realised that Cassius was calling her and chasing her. So that was why there were calls for Sophitia...and oh gods, now he must be thinking his love was running away...She paused for a second, the thought halting her and terrifying her.

What if he'd seen the red rose!?

She felt his arms whirl her round and even through the darkened veil, that hid their faces from each other, she could feel the frustration and tension. It almost seemed like...jealousy? Oh...oh no. He must have seen it. All too soon his hands were wrapped around her arms and she let out a muffled yelp of protest. "Don't!" There was no time for anything more because he reached for her veil. Her hand now free, she gave him a shove, none too gently and backed away. "I'll explain, I promise, just not yet." It might have sat more right if she could call him Teddy, but that was too much of a risk. She doubted she could imitate the affection in her sister's voice at the word.

Instead, she continued to back away. "Please."

[Cassius Theodore DeLauncey]

He tried to brush away her veil, such an uncustomary attire of Sophita, when her pale hands rose up and planted firmly on his chest, shoving him away. Cassius was taken aback by such a forceful gesture, and although she was so much smaller than he, and her efforts did little to move him, Cassius stood where he was, his hands still extended, questioning. He was blown away -- he had not seen her in two years, two entire years, this woman he loved with every aching beat of his heart and here she was, denying him the privilege of even looking upon her face? Her words were strained and Cassius could hear pain in her voice. What had happened? What was she keeping from him?

It felt as if all of his strength was crumbling from beneath him. Everything he had managed to maintain since Rufus' death -- he had barely allowed himself to mourn, immediately, without hesitation taking on the mantle of Province Lord and leader of his family. Cassius shouldered this burden without a word, without a moment's protestation. He would ask for nothing in return; this was his duty. But as the love of his life pushed him away, taking a step back, acting as though he were a stranger in her life -- this, Cassius could not handle. The foundations of his resolve began to seep away beneath him, like sand being pulled through an hour-glass, and Cassius could do nothing but watch it disappear.

"Sophita, why --" Cassius could not stop himself.

[Eveline DeLauncey]

Eveline had not caught the entire exchange, but as soon as she saw her brother take off running after the woman from the lakes edge, she had moved through the crowd to see where her brother had gone. She had heard enough of his barely concealed words to see what was happening -- but then Cassius had grabbed his betrothed by her arm and jerked her back towards him, and even though Eveline could not see Sophita's face, she watched her push Cassius away.

But before Cassius could say anything more, Eveline had reached him, reaching forward and pulling at her brother's arm. He tried to disentangle himself from her, anger and pain clouding her brother's usually warm features, but Sophita had turned by then and taken off, her skirts rustling beneath her as she hastily departed from Cassius' side. He made to go after her, but Eveline slipped her arms around her brother's torso from behind him, trying to stop his pursuit.

"Cassius, stop -- just stop -- let her go," Eveline said breathlessly, watching Sophita retreat, and felt her brother stop struggling against her, his eyes riveted forward, unable to comprehend what was happening. "... Just let her go, for now, Teddy," Eveline said again softly.

Cassius said nothing.

[Cyrus SanJar]

Many had gone. Cyrus had waited. The ceremony served good purpose, but it felt like he was saying goodbye to Anzira all over again - a goodbye he’d never truly had at all. When he finally was able to move his feet, he picked up a single red rose and moved to the waters edge. He stood there, holding the rose, for what felt like hours. He thought of how he’d met Anzira, in the palace of his grandfather, as she sat on the edge of the fountain in the garden, dribbling her hand in the water. Her father had business with the crown and she was waiting on him, and here he’d been fortunate to see her.

He remembered their wedding. He remembered when she told him she was pregnant for the first time. He remembered days of walking through the gardens of their castle, hand in hand, two people so very much in love. He remembered laughing in the sun while feeding each other olives and splashing in the baths before making love in the water. He had a hundred happy memories. A thousand. Memories he kept locked away in his heart and memories that he shared.

And then there was the one he wanted to forget, but knew he never would. Her cold dead face, covered with the sores of the plague, as she lay in the temple ready for burial. The funeral had been the moment he’d broken in public, where he’d cried tears that would not stop. At some point he was in his chambers, but he could not remember getting there or who had brought him. Losing her had wounded him deeper than any spear or sword or arrow could have done.

Cyrus placed the rose in the water and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to cry here. Not in front of all these lords. But the gods knew his heart was already weeping again.

[Tiberius Lexington DeLauncey]

Lex was not entirely sure what had happened, but he knew that Cassius's voice was drawing the attention of those around them. He watched Cass chase after a woman who looked particularly familiar...he called her Sophita, but that wasn't why he remembered her. He didn't have too much time to think, though, before Evie was off after their brother, and Lex was barely a step behind.

He watched what happened, how the woman he'd seen Cassius pine after for two years turned away his affections, would not even look him in the eye. He felt empathy for his brother, the pain of rejection almost tangible in his own heart, but he also felt like there was more to this than it seemed. Sophita would not have done such a thing...there had to be an explanation.

He put a hand on Cassius's shoulder, both to keep him from chasing her down and to offer what little comfort could be gained. Without saying anything, he cast a look to Eveline that communicated his distrust in the situation, and then ran after the girl, determined to get down to the bottom of what had just happened. Cassius could not afford to be seen interrogating a woman, especially not one he was engaged to, but Lexington was not under such rigid pressures. He would get down to the bottom of this, if he could catch her.

[Cassius Theodore DeLauncey]

And with that, she was gone.

Cassius felt Eveline's hands on his arm, trying to hold him back from running after her. He vaguely felt Lex's hand on his shoulder, warm, the look on his brother's face one of concern and support. Without a word, Tiberius took off after Cassius' betrothed; she did not want Cassius' company, apparently, but maybe she would speak to his brother -- he knew that was what was going through Tiberius' head. He would try and find out what happened, to support Cassius. His family was like that -- they just understood. But why? Why was this happening?

Cassius looked to Eveline then, crestfallen. In response, she wrapped her arms around his torso, holding her brother tightly to her, a familiar gesture, and he in response hugged his sister close to him, Cassius' eyes boring in to the ground beneath them as if some ancient specter would arise from the dirt with an explanation.

He could not remember breathing the entire time, and a vice wound it's way around Cassius' heart.

[Livia de Valle]

So many tears flowed, spilling upon the rose-strewn water. And she could not help the tears that began rolling down her cheeks. Livia had followed her sisters but had fallen behind others to select her roses, she waited atiently for her turn, and chose two roses. She had deliberated for a long time over the blooms, finally deciding on two that were only partially blooming. The two roses were symbolic in that both her cousin and sister had only just begun to live, at least in Livia's estimation. As a second thought, her hand shot out to take a mere rosebud, smaller than many and it was this one she placed a kiss upon.

She placed Alida's rose upon the surface of the water first, watching it caught upon by the flowing stream and carried away with the others. Alida had been taken in just the same way, carried away with others, lost to the plague. The rosebud and the remaining rose she twisted one around the other, her fingertips turning slightly green until a thorn caught her flesh, giving a prick to draw a droplet of blood. The entwined roses were set adrift, her sister and nephew remembered in those moments and always. She would never forget.

Livia watched the pair float together, further and further away until she could no longer distinguish them from other roses, then returned to her family.

[Suraa Iravar]

A pair of stunning young women with dark hair and exotic pale-hued eyes stepped towards the baskets of roses in unison. They were dressed in gowns that complemented the other, seeming two halves of a whole, especially in that each movement they made seemed to match as if a mirror image. There was a slight difference. One of the young women was expressionless, while the other wept freely, her sorrow etched in every glance of her eyes, in every turn of coral lips.

In the right hand of Suraa were but two roses, one of white and one of pink, while Sanaa carried two white roses in her left hand. Their free hands were tightly clutched, held as one as they bent to the surface of the water. A pair of white roses were released, allowed to drift before gentle kisses from each graced the petals of the final white rose. Together they murmured words meant for the third who would have looked just as they did, their missing triplet, stolen by the plague, separated from them so cruelly.

Sanaa stood then, the trail of tears streaking her cheeks, an elegantly gloved hand draped over Suraa's shoulder as she set the final rose adrift. The gentle pink petals so delicate and frail. Suraa turned quickly away, and as one, the pair left the center of the gathering. She could feel the look without seeing it, she knew the weight of it, but her shoulders remained straight, her posture proud, and she did not pause to return the look.

[Melchior Iravar]

Damn that girl.

Melchior's eyes went from the pale pink rose to the backs of his sisters. Outwardly he remained calm, but inside he was chasing that little bitch down to ring her neck. He turned his attention to the lake again and watched as Ishtar placed her roses on the surface of the water, if she had noticed Suraa's stunt she mentioned nothing. He loathed that propriety demanded he and his family attend this particular event, that he was forced to honor those who had fallen.

He had managed to put the memories out of his thoughts for several years now and the fact he was being forced to remember the way his mother fought for her every breath in the end, the agonized cries of Sanaa, still a child and unable to understand what was happening. The irrevocable damage done to a young family. He had escaped the memories for years, and now this child king barely off his mothers teet was forcing them to remember. Suraa was going to spend this entire damn trip in a fit, and Sanaa was going to cry and sulk.

Melchior didn't bother with ceremony and simply tossed his flower into the lake and turned away before it that made ripples on the waters. He stormed after Suraa and Sanaa, intent on getting both of them away from the crowds and some where private to have a discussion on the stunt they had pulled.

[Bradyn Forthwind]

There weren't many things that broke the calm exterior of Bradyn Forthwind, but this ceremony came closer than most. All those lives lost, simply to an illness. He shook his head and looked out to the pond as Dru cast a veritable bundle of roses in. It actually made him glance to his own flowers, only a couple, which made him extremely thankful that his family had made it through mostly unscathed. Silently, he stepped forward and dropped them into the lake, turning away and refusing to look any more. What was done was done and those who were dead were now at rest.

Instead, he took Drusilla's hand in his own and gave it a tight squeeze. She was reeling, anyone would be able to see that. But with good reason - she had lost everyone and everything dear to her. It wasn't the sort of thing that was easy to cope with. So he would be strong for her, if needed, but he did not yet speak, hoping his action had carried his meaning across. That he was here for her, if she needed him.

[Drusilla Forthwind]

At first she did not feel his hand in hers. Lady Forthwind seemed to not know where she was for a moment, but slowly the fingers curled around his and held them tightly. Almost clinging to him for support during this difficult time for her. Her hand trembled as she gathered her strength before the woman looked towards him, her eyes similar to how they were after her family had been broken and the Forthwinds had been the victors. She smiled at him in thanks, no words were needed to express her gratitude and nor her love.

OOC: Short but sweet, guys.

[Yasirah Hallvador]

Yasirah knew this was all for a good end. Honoring the dead was a noble thing to do, even in Old Hazrim, and to honor those who'd passed far before their time was even more wonderful. She glanced at her brother as he tossed the sweet flower into the water an she remembered that they shared the same pain. As Cyrus had lost a beloved spouse, so had she. But in a way, Alvric's death was a blessing. Though it pained her more than words could express, she knew that at least he would not have to suffer in the afterlife. The gods owed him at least that.

Yasirah took a red rose in his name and cast it off into the water. "Goodbye," she whispered in the language of Old Hazrim. When she went back to the crowd, she did not return to the Hallvadors. Rather, she went to her brother and held his hand tight. She needed some strength and she could not trust herself to rely on her own.