[ P ] End of an Era

meph

@Tiamats

Ankh had been wrapped in a white sheet and laid upon a pile of kindling, pine nettles, and dried leaves. Beside her lingered a grizzled wolf with a torch betwixt his jaws—a fire maester that had known which stones to scratch in order to produce a strong enough spark. Alongside him were a couple of young acolytes.

Nassar felt both bone weary and numb. She had completed her vigil—had had her son returned to her—and now stood with her heir. Along the green were other members of their family. Her children, yes, and her niece. She had yet to spot her brother but, in her heart of hearts, she willed him to appear. To take her offer of kinship and return to the family at once. To end his exile, as was her will.

Her mouth felt dry.

Nassar's mother was dead. Gone. With it was the absence of pressure and command. But had that been all, Nassar would have felt relief. Alas, her mother had been loving in her own way. Brutal, yes, but protective. Nassar recalled how Ankh had shown her to spar. She remembered nights reading together in the foyer and dinners in which they laughed and insulted other families that had dared to question their strength. And she recalled the feeling of being tucked close during winter when her room had grown too cold, Khepri at her side.

Nassar might have cried if not for the fact that she had no tears left.

Turning, she stared at Cairo. How would she feel when, one day, Nassar was gone too? Reminiscient? Relieved? Torn? Broken? There were so many emotions to name, and while she found herself hoping that Cairo's heart would hold only love for her upon this pyre, Nassar also felt the weight of that love now. If it was apathy instead, the duty of taking over would be far less strenuous.

But perhaps it was not meant to be so easy.

Looking up, she saw the sun positioned at the highest point in the sky.
She met the maester's gaze and he nodded. He walked to the fire with the acolytes and the torches were dropped. The kindling caught fire almost immediately.

The sheet started to blacken.

Imperceptibly, Nassar's teeth dug into her cheek.

this table scrolls!
NO POST ORDER — any Tiamat or Tiamat affiliated wolf may enter

Ahkoris stood along the green, shoulder-to-shoulder with wolves he knew and yet did not know. Their faces were, mercifully, directed away from him, but it was not for the reasons he would have hoped. Up ahead of them, on the pyre, was his grandmother. That is what Nassar -- his mother -- had said. He remembered the cinnamon and clove on her scent when he had first stumbled into her arms with Xandria, that feeling of death creeping in around them... Ankh had been in that room, he now knew. A grandmother he had now lost twice: once in memory, and once again in death.

He took a steadying breath, his eyes studying Nassar and his sister, Cairo, before them. She was the heir, and that was why she had a place at Nassar's side. He, he had a place with Xandria in the fold. He touched her shoulder ever-so-slightly as they stood together. It made him feel better, though he felt ashamed, with the show of strength and resilience before them, to show fear at all. But it was what he felt. He was even more of a stranger here than he had been in the Highlands. These wolves knew him, and while he recognized some of them -- and some faces more than others -- he knew there were swaths of memories, swaths of time that were unreachable to him. It felt like an endless void, one that might never be filled.

He took another breath to calm his heart as the fire maester -- that is what Xandria had told him they were called -- moved towards the pyre and lit it. He watched Ankh's white-cloaked body slowly be covered in smoke and flame. He stared until he couldn't anymore, and then he looked away.

It was an odd feeling attending the funeral of a woman she held no affection for. The heaviness in her heart was not grief for her grandmother, no she'd never considered that woman any kind of maternal figure in her life, it was for her own mother whose vibrant glow had dimmed and the tears which had stained her cheeks. Xandria was conflicted by the sadness she felt for her mother and the relief that Ankh was finally dead. She no longer had the power to control them like they were pawns to make political sacrifices of, but now that responsibility was being passed to Nassar. She trusted in her ability to take up the mantle of Ankh, and had never doubted that her mother would be a great matriarch.

Watching the flames licking away at Ankh's remains, she bowed her head solemnly, pretending to be the grieving granddaughter as was expected of her. It wasn't just a family affair after all and if she didn't act in an appropriate fashion the crows would caw with vitriolic gossip. She would shed a tear for Ankh, but she could be respectful. It was her mother and sister's day too after all. They were ascending to their new roles. Cairo as crown princess, successor to Nassar. She couldn't help thinking that one day she would be watching Cairo undergo the same ceremony at their mother's funeral and she suppressed a shiver at that thought. She would never be ready for that day.

A touch to her shoulder earned a soft smile. Ahkoris was feeling uncomfortable too. He didn't know Ankh and the sea of faces around them would be overwhelming too. She shifted a little closer so that her shoulder would be brushing against his, a subtle reminder that she was there for him and a way to calm her own uneasy feelings.

Art by curiotea

Ankh was dead.

So why did she still feel those pink eyes upon her? As if the Matriarch herself was breathing down her spine?

Yet it was impossible. There she lay, silent for the first time Ismailia had witnessed; so silent. So still. No longer did those pink eyes burn with hatred into her flesh. No longer did she whisper and belittle. That time had passed, the time for extreme prejudice and arrogance had died with the Matriarch.

Ocean eyes cast to Nassar, who seemed to burn with a newly forged found purpose, so clandestine and proud. Upholding the manse of a fierce Heir, who now took on the mantle of her Mother's and passed her name down to her first born Cairo. Ismailia scorned the bile that churned within her stomach. Deep down, that needy, dark ambition pooled.

That would never be her.

That should be her. She had worked harder than all the Tiamat kin combined, simply to be able to stand with them-here today, as one of their own. But it would never be Ismailia crowned and praised. No. To do her duty, she had to be married off to a respectable man, pass down her genes into her progeny and hope they were more Tiamat than she ever could be.

Their pelts of brown and eyes of gold.

Not free to follow her heart.

Scornfully, she looked down at her frosted paws; even that colour was foregin here, in the vast array of earth and fire pelts. How she missed Iah, curling around her paws and purring in familiar greeting.

It was best to keep her away from all of this.

As the chaos continued on inside; her facade was that of deadpan, she followed her role well. Aspiring Lieutenant reporting for duty, who's eyes smouldered into the flames as they engulfed one of her kin.

A signal of a new dawn, but when it rose, would she be any better off?

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

The air was thick with grief, each face present mournful, a fitting atmosphere for her dark mood. Ankh was dead. She didn't personally know the now deceased matriarch of the Tiamats but she knew the wolf had been Nassar's mother. After the matriarchs passing, Nassar had extended an invite to the funeral, something she wouldn't turn down for anything. The new Matriarch was her closest friend. The pale woman arrived silently with a stiffness still present in her walk, her lip still split but healing. It had been several days since she had arrived in the mainlands and subsequently was attacked and discovered Ahkoris's return to the land of the living. The last few days had been exhausting and the last place she wanted to be was a funeral.

But here she was. Baby blues would find Nassar, offering a quiet show of support as her mothers body laid upon a pyre, wrapped in a crisp white sheet. With pointed effort, she avoided a certain pink gaze as she took her place amongst those closest to the Tiamat family. Dark lips were pressed firmly together in a thin line, her eyes fixated ahead.

The warmth of the pyre was sudden as the flames licked at the sheet wrapped around the body. The smell of burning hair and flesh were abrasive to her senses as it overwhelmed the immediate area. Smoke filled the air as the old matriarch was sent to the next life, leaving the new matriarch to carry on. Her two toned features were carefully neutral as she stood by. She was here to support to her friend, nothing more and nothing less.

Speaking

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LA.
fall on your sword...

Funerals. He hated funerals. All the deaths during the war and the loss of his mother swirled around in the ex-captain’s mind like a tornado. Argent had received notice of Nassar’s mother passing and while he had not known her personally he wanted to pay his respects for Nassar whom he considered a close friend. He knew the pain of losing a parent and while his presence might not bring much comfort to the bereaved daughter he hoped a friendly, albeit scowling face would help. He shuffled awkwardly through the crowd, offering solemn nods to mourners while he found a place where he wouldn’t be in the way. The bright white coat of his was hard to miss so he knew even if he sat further back he wouldn’t escape notice.

The culture of the Tiamat family was very different to what a lowborn lowlander like Argent was used to. The heat from the fire was uncomfortable for a shaggy furred beast like himself, but he respected their fascination with fire even if he didn’t understand it. His own mother had been buried in the earth in a common traditional funeral. It reminded him that he hadn’t visited her for a while and he let out a gruff sigh, feeling like a bad son. He never knew what to say and felt like it was all a bit pointless.

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Khepri

After some time waffling between going and not going, Khepri decided it was probably best he showed up to his own mother's funeral... banished or not. Well, technically he was no longer banished, he guessed... but still. He still felt his mother's eyes on him, even as he crept through the crowd to Nassar's side and even as he watched her burn. He still felt those judgmental, disappointed eyes staring down his back as if she were right behind him and not on the pyre turning to ash.

As he stared into the fire he felt nothing.

A deep, gnawing emptiness filled him as the flames licked higher and higher. He'd never gotten to say goodbye. He'd never gotten that 'I'm proud of you.' or even so much as a simple 'I love you'. He'd never gotten much from Ankh and now he'd never get anything from her again.

After a few moments passed, he let a breath go he hadn't known he'd been holding. She was gone and he could finally return home. That was something to celebrate, at least. Khepri knew already that he would not return in the way Nassar wanted him to, but he would try his best to be there more from here on out. He looked out over the crowed of familiar and unfamiliar faces and felt the emptiness begin to fade. These wolves were here for Anhk, for the Tiamat wolves, and in a way... for him. Maybe he could begin again.

They had managed for so long without another funeral.

That thought permeated in the back of Sethos's mind throughout the introduction of their fiery tradition. The pyre was simple - scattered leaves, earthen materials, nondescript aside from the monument of a woman that now rested atop the bed set for her. Ankh. His grandmother, his mother's mother. The intimidating matriarch that had both haunted and brandished their lives from ash alone. Tiamat. The shape of it formed silently between his teeth, clenched as he watched his mother's face fall.

The end of a pillar. One of which he had never had close relations with, but respected for the simple fact that she had carried their culture through the flames of Rionnach for several long years.

Objectively harsh, but undeniably loyal. Something he could aspire to, if that was all he learned from her.

The fire ripped and tore through the air as he paused by his sister. Here, he would watch the rest that gathered, their faces ignited by funeral flame. Some he recognized immediately, others he studied more closely. But regardless of their background or their reasons for being here - they were welcomed, and they were family, if only for this. Sethos dropped his chin, settling into a quiet, stony reverence reserved for the fallen. Not the punishing tears he had spilled for his father - but something softer, detached. He was sickeningly thankful that he had not loved Ankh as he had loved Kohl.

As the ashes swept into the wind, he imagined himself following them.
Up, up, up, until Tiamat was only a word and he was only a son.

the fire i'd walk through

code by claerie

Her eyes roamed the faces. Broken slivers of gold met each face individually, and yet seemed to glaze over them all collectively, blurring them together to form a sea of gold, brown, blue. She was facing them, and they were facing her. Well, they weren’t facing her – they were facing her, her mother and most importantly, her cloth-clad grandmother. And she wondered. She wondered how many in the crowd were truly sad that Ankh Tiamat had died; or, how many were simply playing the game. They were expected to be there, expected to be sad – because that’s what you did at a funeral, you acted sad. Everything was constructed this way... and so it went. Her glistening golden gaze discreetly hardened on the crowd as she stared at them-- and the sudden assumption that none of them were sad for Ankh took over her. Did anyone actually appreciate the Tiamat Matriarch? Cairo felt like she could feel the lightness in the chambers now, the iron-clad grip released – and the sense of an exhale seemed to flow through the halls. Ankh was hard. She could be calculatingly cold. But she had always held a warm smile for her. For her. Ankh had not been heartless... she'd just been passionate. She had cared so deeply for the family that she was willing to make choices others balked at. Because it was not just about each of them. It was about all of them. Cairo believed that her grandmother was a big part of why the Tiamats were successful to this day. She believed that Ankh's way was the way to a great empire. Ankh was the thing that grounded them all... and there she went, embers on the breeze. ...... More than anything, in this time of remembrance of their great Matriarch... Cairo feared for the future. Not because she thought her mother would not be perfect in her role, but because things were changing. Things were changing, and rules were being broken. She'd never lived a life in which Ankh did not rule over them, was not the hand that moved them all. It felt almost wrong without her, like they were heading into a great unknown. Her eyes trailed out to the sea, and then toward the direction of Castle Stuart. It felt like Ankh's death was just the beginning tumultuous change. “my sin, my soul.”

ART ➤CasArtss CODE ➤ twisty

Merrin hardly strayed from Luciel's side as of late and she expected the same of her children. The protective mother nudged her children forward to stay in front of her where she could keep an eye on them. She remained within only a few tail lengths of her mate, her gaze turning to look over her shoulder more than once throughout the entire affair. She had to continuously remind herself that she was there to pay her respects to the lost Tiamat Matriarch and to support her good friend, Nassar. It was difficult to focus, however, when she could practically feel Nalik's hot breath at the back of her neck, his grip around her throat, his weight overtop of her...

Merrin squeezed her eyes shut and flinched suddenly as though she were struck, yet it was, once again...all in her head. The fear that the shadow figure in the corner of her eye was corporeal was overwhelming. She took a few cleansing breaths, leaning against Luciel and pressing her face into his thick mane, his scent reminding her that he was there and she was safe. A few years slipped from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, but at least here she could mask them as tears of mourning. Though perhaps she was mourning. With the arrival of Nalik, came the impending end of an era of peace that she was convinced she would never come to know again.

Enough of that... Her own voice chimed in at the back of her mind, urging her to look over to Nassar. As the formal farewell came to a close, she glanced up at Luciel, touching her nose to his shoulder before gesturing at their family friend. Merrin summoned all of her courage to step away from Luciel, tentatively picking her way through the crowd of Tiamat until she came to stand before the other woman.

There were no words that she felt she could offer and she was unsure if an embrace was warranted. She simply met Nassar's eyes with warm sympathy in her lavender orbs, reaching out a paw to place it over hers, attempting to convey her thoughts though this gentle touch. I am here for you however you need me to be.

@Argent

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