And as we wind on down the road

[faderifting]

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: The Herald of Andraste is laid to rest, and the remains of the Inquisition try to put on a good face for their visitors. Some of them try, anyway.
WHEN: Harvestmere 26
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: n/a

The day after the mysterious strangers from the rift arrive, the Herald's body is delivered back to Skyhold. At first, there is doubt-- the timing is convenient, finally found the very day the funeral is to take place, and many still cling to hope that the Herald has somehow survived. Most, but not all, are appeased by news that the Inquisition's chief advisers have all confirmed the identity of the deceased. Preparations are accelerated: what was once to be a symbolic memorial now requires actual rites, and while some prepare the body others break down whatever can be spared for the pyre, constructed in the center of the main courtyard by another crew.

The funeral itself is a somber affair, as funerals generally are. The Great Hall has been cleared and swept but little else-- all attendees stand, and they are lucky it is a clear day, since the late afternoon sun streams in through the gaping holes in the roof. The service proceeds along strictly traditional Andrastian lines, stately and stiff. Mother Giselle provides the service and the sermon, focusing on duty, sacrifice, and the Maker's plan and concluded with a recitation of Transfigurations 10:1 by the whole assemblage. It is all very predictable, but sincerely delivered. Cassandra and Cullen lead the honor guard. It is a mismatched collection of visiting dignitaries, suspicious observers, pilgrims, colleagues, and companions that slowly process up to pay their silent respects as Evelyn Trevelyan lies in state. Some may notice that the body has been carefully arranged to disguise the fact that her left hand is gone. As night falls they light candles and then the pyre, and as the flames catch and lick up toward the star-washed sky, Mother Giselle sings a haunting version of the Chantry hymn The Dawn Will Come.

The wake that follows is less staid. It seems as if every table and chair in the castle has been dragged into The Herald's Rest and the courtyards and every hidden store of fine wine and food has been dug out from Josephine's secret stores to impress the more exalted visitors. This isn't just a funeral, after all, but a political occasion, an opportunity to demonstrate that the Inquisition lives on beyond the loss of its first symbolic leader, and that it can still be a force for peace and unity.

That impression is dented as the night wears on, and opinions and stories get shared more and more loudly. Someone hops up on a table to give their own little eulogy and others follow suit. Of course eventually it turns sour-- a templar gets up and starts blaming the mages for killing the Herald just like they killed the Divine, and mages at the next table shout back. He's hauled down before things can escalate, but grumbling and dirty looks are unlikely to be the last of it.

The event carries on into the wee hours, and noise echoes around the stone walls loudly enough to make it difficult for any to sleep early. One team of Inquisition scouts and soldiers comes out of the barn to complain more than once, and eventually move their bedrolls down into a basement hall, growling about how they have to be up at the crack of dawn to head out on a mission to scout some Maker-forsaken bog of all the places. (Mire, one of them corrects.)

Comments

stannis baratheon (au) | OTA

[theonly]

Wake

[ The funeral is the first that he has seen the Herald. He never met her, only heard tale of her deeds. It is odd to look at someone that so many feel like they "know." But not a feeling that he has not experienced before. Did he not have something similar when the Divine died years past?

His head aches from how much he clenches his teeth. Nothing grants him peace and he doubts that there will be much for others present. It is a show, and he is dislikes it. The woman did her duty for Thedas and should be allowed to rest without making even her death a fiasco. Stannis had thought that the Templars would share his opinion but it appears not.

It is a shame that he decided to leave his blade behind.

But he is glad to see the man carted off. Not so those that are still huffing under their breath. He sucks his teeth as he feels the anger increase. ] The fault lies with everyone. To rely so heavily upon one person and to not look upon your own duties to the realm. You come to pay your respects and I see none. Not for the woman, not for the Herald. [ It is the most that he can say least he let his anger continue.

He finds a place that he could sit to drink. It may be amusing that he chooses to drink water over all other alcohol that is being presented. Stannis looks towards the door as he wonders if he could retrieve his sword and return swiftly enough. But Commander Cullen would probably not appreciate the men suffering capital punishment without judgment -- and what he had been told before rings true. Kill too many men and they fear you for the wrong reasons.

His back presses against the wall as he watches everyone. ] And we must be feared for the right reasons.

WILDCARD?