It's a terrible day for rain

Artorias sat for far too long out in the cold and the rain, staring at the funeral pyre that stood out amongst the rolling hills of the plains. The oil-soaked wood had been doused until saturated to ensure it would burn continuous and hot for as long as it took, despite the drizzle that was falling from a cloud-laden sky. Even the heavens above seemed heavy with the emotions of the day. The Lord of Cinder, heartbroken and despondent, simply stared at the body laid out carefully atop the pyre, wrapped in fine cloth and surrounded by flowers and wisteria branches from Hearthstone's gardens. He still couldn't believe that was Audra up there. None of this felt right; none of this should be happening. When his dear friend had departed the Hallows with Gloom, she had been in bright spirits and had a happy future to come back home to. Instead, she had come home carried on the back of the woman she loved, cold and lifeless. Gone—just like that.

Artorias lifted a large paw and rested it upon the still form of his friend. He could still see that moment clear as day in his head and it wrenched his heart every time he thought about it. Audra, the wolf he had loved like his sister, was dead. Gloom had told him she had fallen ill while up in Boreas, and over a short period degenerated quickly until she had perished. That tore Artorias up even more, to know that his wolf had been sick so far from home, without her family to care for her, and had died without their love. His only saving grace was that he knew she hadn't been alone; Gloom had made sure of that. All he could hope for now was that Audra's final thoughts were remembering how loved and cherished she was back home. He knew she would be sorely missed here for all of their days...

With all the necessary preparations made, there was only one thing left to do. Artorias tipped his head back and called loud and clear for the members of the Hallows to convene to bid their final farewells to their beloved friend and pack mate. Then he sat solemn and stoic beside the pyre, the hood of his black cloak pulled up around his face, hopefully obscuring some of the sorrow pulling at the carefully managed facade he wore. Gods knew this would be difficult for them all. He was likely to cry before this was done.

ooc: The second round of posts begins February 13th

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Eira" | "Argent"