The Funeral of Malethia Lightshope

[Malethia]

A brief article is posted in the news flyers of Silvermoon City.

Malethia Blazestone, the last surviving heir to the infamous Blazestone line of Magisters, has been declared deceased. Lady Blazestone had disappeared without word shortly after a failed ritual, and her current whereabouts and fate are unknown. House Blazestone's property is known to have been placed in trust by her will to an unknown party.

Funeral rites will be held on the grounds of the Blazestone property tomorrow evening.

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It was raining, of course. It always seemed to be raining on the day of a lonely miserable funeral. Not many people had attended, but of course not many had been left that she hadn't alienated by her actions. A few words had been said by an official from the city, but his demeanor made it clear he hadn't wanted to be there; in fact he had drawn the short straw.

After the official quickly scurried away, his job complete with the minimal effort required, several servants brought out the headstone to her empty grave and filled in the shallow hole that had been dug for symbollic purposes. Their task finished as well, they walked away, leaving the tiny group of mourners behind to complete whatever spiritual rites there may of been.

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On a hill overlooking the funeral, a woman in short black hair watched from underneath a tree that shaded her from the rain. She could of cast a spell that allowed her to watch through the eyes of one of those around the tombstone, but she hadn't wanted to intrude upon their privacy.

"Years ago, a funeral for a Blazestone would of been a great day of mourning for the entire city. Now? It only merits a couple of paragraphs in a flyer, and that's not exactly a host of weeping maidens down there."

Why do you even proceed with this rite? You more than any know exactly how pointless it really is.

"It's symbolism. Malethia Blazestone is dead. Let her rest...she played her part."

The irony of this entire process is amusing - especially those viewing this funeral.

"I know. But I know the truth, and one with that knowledge is enough. Besides, I don't see a point in telling her what she really is. Let her have her second chance."

She has already grown suspicious. It is only a matter of time before she finds a conclusion. She is much like you in that regard; driven to accomplish what her mind sets out to do.

"Why do you think I selected her to take over? These first few months will be hard for her. In time though, she'll be able to move on and begin anew."

Yes, she will. But what about you?

The woman didn't answer; she just smiled slightly at the thought, and watched the funeral proceed.

[Saphiara]

Saphiara stood quietly, seperated from those who had a direct interest in the woman whose life had been declared to be at an end. she didn't really know why she had come; it felt as if some compulsion had driven her to say farewell to this stranger.

Or was she really a stranger? Little coincidences kept popping up that connected them. Was it one of those twists of fate meant to teach the survivor a lesson of life? Or, was there something more mysterious involved here, something more sinister?

Of course, 'something sinister' would almost certainly mean magic. Hellfire, she hated magic.

The proceedings were brief and uninvolved. Despite herself, Saphiara couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman. By all accounts, she had been dedicated to her people. Mistakes were made, of course, but she deserved better than this. No Sin'dorei deserved an empty grave and a quick disinterested ceremony. There were so few of them left, and even fewer who had overcome the crushing despair that had fallen over Quel'thalas. There had been far too many empty graves and hasty funerals after the Scourge.

That of course made her think of her own funeral. All those she knew, had grown close to, were in Outland. Plenty of them were in the ground as well, including all those she had called family. When she finally did meet her end - and she knew all too well that death had been something she had almost desired over the past year - would there be any who mourned her? Or would she be like this woman, scourned and forgotten, left to rot in the ground with nothing left behind to speak for whom she had been?

The thought was far too depressing.

[Saphiara]

((This is open, if anyone wants to have been there or to say something. Otherwise, it's just something I wanted to post.))

[Kiaransalius]

Kiaransalius sighed as she stood over the grave. She had not attended the ceremony, but as the legal caretaker of the manor, she would be sure the site was well tended.

I will remember the good things... not the tragedy of the end. was all she thought to herself as she laid a small bouqet of flowers down at the headstone.

Standing quietly for a few moments, she then turned and began to wander the grounds and meditate quietly to herself.

[Melchisedech]

Melchisedech stood over the grave. Several times he opened and closed his mouth, as if trying to say something. With a snarl, he turned and walked away, muttering to himself.

[Qabian]

Qabian made it a point to pass by at that time. He didn't go near the ceremony or the site, but offered it a glance from the road as his hawkstrider strode by. He had not forgotten the Malethia he had once respected, something he thought of so few in this world. And he had not forgotten the level to which she had lost that respect. The Malethia he wanted to remember had died much earlier, killed by the Light as he saw it, continuing to live only in some surreal way less tangible than even the Forsaken manner of life after death. It only seemed fitting that her death finally be acknowledged after all that time. He doubted he remembered the same person anyone else who might visit such a symbol would think about, but he remembered nevertheless.