The Sentinels the soul after death
slowly drifting, wave after wave
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open for any who wish to remember lasher, this is a ceremony of remembrance for him, and also, a celebration of lithas (midsummer) arrival! backdated to last night, the strawberry moon!

when the sun had fallen, deirdre felt the moon shine upon her. its light surrounded her, embraced her, called to her, and she drifted toward her fathers grave with little thought at all. for she was being called by the spirits here, and she heard the familiar voice of the man she loved the most. he had passed, but she felt him here now, tethered to this plane only because of his youngest not being ready to say goodbye, not truly knowing how to. it had taken time, but alone she had learned; in her mouth she carried seven stones, three red, three white, and one black. also held were weak lilacs, favorites of her fathers, that were insubstantial and young but enough to serve their purpose. they were born only to die, for they would not have made it to the next day so fragile were they! they had bloomed in the very places she wept for her beloved athair, and as she moved all but one had fallen apart, the thin petals leaving a trail to be followed. and lastly, there was another weak herb held betwixt her lips that her father had spoken of as he told her of litha, which had come and was now here. vervain had grown with one group of lilacs, though this, too, unassembled itself until only few remained. all was enough--that she had one at all was more than she could have imagined.

she arrived before her fathers grave, placing these objects down beside it. sighing, the woman-cub turned toward the hot spring she would use as her cauldron this eve and stared at the reflection of the moon, watched the way it rippled slightly. she must cleanse the area with the elements, she knew this, and so she began to do just that to start. she gently placed assorted fallen things away from the area she would practice in; she pushed away any energy that felt negative to her, and concentrated on the light within her to purify this moment, this place. once this was done, she paused and tilted her head upward to call to all of donnelaith who wished to observe this ceremony; perhaps it might influence them to partake and to wish to learn, to participate in the future. emaleth had once been of her coven, though she was not here to lend her spirit to the cause. she would begin to cast her circle and do her witches work when those who wished be present arrived, so they could remember the man who made this place, and celebrate he who surely aided in the coming of midsummer, passing his spirit around donnelaith to make it even greener, to help her magicks strength! she felt him here as the stars hung from the moons strings, felt him in the way the wind danced around her and the heat of the summer held her.
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Ooc — Rachel
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Sleep did not come so easily to the Mayfair any longer, so when Deirdre’s voice rang through the air, beckoning the wolves of Donnelaith, the swarthy wolf was only too keen to check in upon his youngest sibling. Responsibility had settled upon his shoulders now – one silently taken on without word when his father had passed, leaving he and his sister as the eldest of Lasher’s heritage. Constantine did not know what the future held now for the pack, but he was determined to ensure it would not disappointment their athair.
 
His pale sister moved beneath the blanket of moonlight – her pale fur shining like a beacon of light. He spoke nothing as he settled nearby, his gaze watching her as she went to work. There was something soothing about watching her continue her craft without the druid – she had not given up, the way he almost had when she tended his wounds.
 
Sweeping in to sit gingerly, Constantine’s fiery eyes roved upon the grave of Lasher – feeling the wrench in his heart twist once more at the loss they felt now.
all you have is your fire
a page ripped
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Ooc — Ells
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Lucani arrived that night to pay her respects to more than just the fallen lord. Lasher's family was a source of quiet fascination to the rugged healer, none more than Deirdre — Lucani had never met a creature so mystical and angelic. As she arrived on Deirdre's scene, her pace slowed, for she saw that the girl was joined by her brother. Her eyes went to the young man's form to determine his state, and he seemed healthy — of this she was very glad.

She slowed, and watched Deirdre. What she saw was astonishing and beautiful, and while she made sure she was visible to her young friend, lest she was called upon, Lucani remained back in the shadows in acknowledgement of her own ignorance. Other than symbolism she could guess and meaning she already knew, Lucani had no idea what was happening here. She could only watch, wonder, learn — and absorb.