The lost of a precious flower

"i...cant hold her much longer...this spell...strains every fiber of me..." Ashen tryed to focus on her words as they only came out in smalls gasps. letting her child give her his strength she leaned on him. the black veins growing more and more over her body, out weighting the silver runes. "say your piece so i may...deliver her properly...before my strength is gone..." Ashen continued to hold onto the soul, her body beginning to tremble, and shake from the strain.

Thea looked up for the first time. Idina's soul, gossip buddy, friend, sister she was all of these things. The druid walked forward, close to the soul and the body. Silent tears started coming forth, Thea tried to stop them but they would not yield. Despite the tears she spoke normally. "Idina, I wish you well. You will soon find yourself in a field of flowers, more then you could possibly know. I will remember you." Thea gestured around her, "we will all remember you." Thea stepped a bit closer, "if you see my family, please tell them I love them. Tell them I'm sorry." She whispered this so faintly that only Idina's spirit could hear it.... well if she was listening. Thea stepped back, returning to her spot. The druid's hands covered her face as silent tears assaulted her face.

Jay stiffened when he heard Stellio say that he would be the one who would bring her murderer to justice. Lila wasn't going to like that, even he himself only offered the caribou kinto resources, but to say that he was going to be the one to take down the person or thing that killed Idina... that's a no no.

Ashen remained silent through the others words. Feeling her son stiffen to the word of the one named stellio. The black veins felt like acid course threw her blood. Her angelic side fighting the darkness now flowing threw her body.

Slowly her eyes shifted to everyone in the crowd, wishing they would hurry. At this rate, it would take a day for her to recover. She reminded herself that this was for Idina, anything to avoid the soul being out through fire. As her gaze continued to shift upon the sun lite faces, she saw her Life mate shrouded in shadows.

It was only because she knew what to look for that she was able to see him. He was talented in hiding, as assassins should. Slowly, her gaze moved to the soul, the pain almost unbearable. Gritting her teeth she continued to concentrate, the cold chill of the earth below her knee was the only thing keeping her body cool.

Idina was dead.

That was the idea he couldn't seem to fathom.

That little girl, lost upon her arrival. When she lay outside his old library in the haunting chill of night. He invited her in, and he made her tea. She stayed in the library while he remained, and he never got to say farewell when she left.

When he left, it was with a heavy heart, and when he returned, it was with an empty one.

His eyes had grown glacial, void of the life they once held. His hair was only a symbol of his own self-loathing, his tattoos removed for the same emotion. And yet she saw through his disguise, his true feelings of pain and anguish obscured by a mask of violence and indifference to life and death. She found the true him under all of that wreckage. Not the one she'd known before, nor the ones she'd never truly seen, but the one that he was always meant to be. Somehow, she knew he'd come to that. The man he was supposed to be. He abused her, he hurt her, he manipulated her, and yet through all that turmoil, she remained by his side until the end.

To think that the girl was now dead made him sick to his stomach.

He didn't dare show his face, and so he remained hidden in the brush, caked in mud to hide his scent. He knew the Kintu among them were expert trackers based on smell alone, but Wood Elves of the Highlands knew how to make themselves disappear. His hair was lifted above his neck, not in the tail that he once wore, but not in the lank state that he had worn recently either. He wore only his trousers and boots, knowing that to wear the Celtic garb that presented her with so much turmoil would do no favours to her remembrance.

This was his fault.

It was the excursion to the Celtlands, where he hurt her for his own sake, that had made Lila worry. That's where their fighting began, and that's where their engagement ended. Idina must've been angry, or at least confused, to make such a mistake as to die, and had he not hurt her, had he truly been there for her, he might have been able to save her.

The elf shook his head, removing those thoughts from his mind. That was the sorrow speaking. His blade had pierced her, but it had also saved her. And she had saved him from himself, that much was true. It wasn't he who had sought her demise, nor was it him who had purportedly hung her in a tree in the Pan'Ti woods, mouth apart in a sinister smile.

That smile he knew all too well. Her death was a warning from the Raven. The dreaded rogue was here after all, and the presence of this Minister's church was no good sign, either. Perhaps the two were connected--no, they had to be. The Raven, all those years ago, stood for the Church of Her in the Elven Nation, and stood against the free people who wished to be separate from its tyranny.

The Minister of this church knew that. There was no way that the Raven and him weren't in league with one-another. After all this time, he'd manipulated another soul into his crude work, and it had cost the elf the life of his friend. His protector. His child.

Covering his tearful eyes, he slunk back into the shadows of the trees, not seen by anyone, not heard by anyone, not smelled by anyone.

The words of the 'False Monk', as named by his angel before becoming the Clanless, rung in his head. L'irith Iam-Lur Surnel D'il-Lar, and Arger Tillier. No last names were used in the guild.

Thinking, the monk added one last name to the list of those lost in Her name.

Idina Doc.

She trusted a man, and that man was a lie. That man came back, his lies leaking out. He tried to hide his lies, but she saw right through them. She saw the truth of his soul, and she helped free that soul. That soul bound by fear and worry to not be true to itself, using masks to cope with the feelings of loss, anger, and dread. Her healing hands brought out the truth of his soul, and that soul stood there when she no longer stood. When she needed him most, he returned. When he did, she did not. Her blood stained on the hands of another, along with his own blood. He'd used the mask to run from the stains, but no longer would he run. He was tired of running. Tired of hiding. The masks were gone, and his heart was restored.

Faljere D'ael Elderbaden, monk of the Circle, warrior of the Highlands, and friend to all, was once more.

And capturing the Raven was now more personal than ever.

She wrapped her arm around her husband, who was still shaking lightly, holding him protectively.  
Although she was already distraught, she was angered now as well.  The option to correct her hateful last words towards her fiancee and the caribou decided to mention the raven instead.
She however said nothing simply staring at the soul.  She would not feed into this rage.  She wouldn't disrespect Idina in such a manner.  At least that is what she told herself.  But at the same time a new issue was brewing, that she had a party to take out the raven already getting together, and now Lila going off alone?  A small healing caribou?  She was certain that some terrible fate would befall her.  And besides, it was horrendously selfish, not to mention foolish, to kill him herself, everyone wanted a hand in his demise.

She decided to speak anyway despite her better judgment.
"Lila say something.  You may never again get the chance to do it so do it now."   her voice was low, not accusatory not cruel in nature, but stern.

She looked over to Ashen and nodded. 
"It seems everyone has paid their respects, those that wish to at least."  She looked down hiding a look of disdain, still bothered at the kintu's ungratefulness.  Had she not known loss?  How incredible must be to be able to say goodbye?  Aria herself would have given everything to be able to do this with her mother. 
Regardless, the kintu seemed ready to start a fight and she was not prepared for that at the time.