Fortuna's young Queen watched the funeral cortege file past the raised dais where she sat just behind the prone, forever stilled forms of her parents. On her left stood her Regent, the Grigori Angel, Melek Taus and her advisor, Userbes. On her right stood her sister Caroline and her Immortal Spartan husband, Stelios. The rhythm of the drums, rattles and sistra along with the shuffling of feet filing past was almost hypnotic.
Jocelyn was detrermined to show as little emotion as possible. There was no joy in this day, no matter what the pretense was. She felt numb, knowing that the charade was one that would be revealed as such, but not too soon. Somewhere she knew that her mother and father were watching, probably from above, making careful note of how she conducted herself, with or without the Regent's assistance. There were too many dignitaries in attendance from the Seelie kingdom and any untoward gesture or show of emotion could be construed as being too joyful or be accused of wretched overacting if she dared to show sorrow.
When it was the turn of Amarante and the priestesses to file past, Jocelyn de Rochefort's heart caught in her throat. The descendent of Marie LeGarde, member of the family and for all purposes her sister, was more stunninglly beautiful than usual. Her hair unbound and flowing, her countenance and grace, even her scent was one that was as heady and intoxicating as a wild forest glen filled with flowers. It was as if every plant, every flower and sprig fought amongst themselves and willingly sacrificed them to be near her, to adorn her body or to lend their life's power to her magic.
When Amarante bowed and was surrounded by the protective ring of fellow Temple Priestesses around her, Jocelyn wordlessly rose from the ornately carved throne. The Regent nor anyone else dared attempt to remind her of protocol as she did so, descending the three steps to where Amarante knelt in a rustle of silk and brocade.
Jocelyn reached out not only with the hand that bore the signet ring of her office but both of her hands. Pulling Amarante to her Jocelyn embraced the other woman, pressing her cheeks into each of the Faeling's then kissed her in the center of her forehead.. "You are my sister," Jocelyn gave her the smallest of smiles."Come. Be where you belong."
Before Amarante could refuse Jocelyn led her up the stairs to stand next to Melek Taus. She then resumed her seat upon the throne of carved Faery steets and dragons entwined with scrollwork and scenes of Elven lore. The priestesses bowed in unison, then each in turn pressed their forehead first to the coffin holding her mother, then bowed to the one that held the form of her father. Where, she wondered, was Kai? Had he not mentioned he would come to pay his respects to her parents?
She scanned the crowd discreetly, looking for some sign of him. Seeking comfort of the familiar, Jocelyn reached out a hand and caught that of Amarante, giving it a slight squeeze. There was much that she needed to tell her but not yet. The Seelie princes were watching their every move trying to determine where they might stand in the scheme of things.
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Date: 2017-05-07 03:38 pm (UTC)Jocelyn was detrermined to show as little emotion as possible. There was no joy in this day, no matter what the pretense was. She felt numb, knowing that the charade was one that would be revealed as such, but not too soon. Somewhere she knew that her mother and father were watching, probably from above, making careful note of how she conducted herself, with or without the Regent's assistance. There were too many dignitaries in attendance from the Seelie kingdom and any untoward gesture or show of emotion could be construed as being too joyful or be accused of wretched overacting if she dared to show sorrow.
When it was the turn of Amarante and the priestesses to file past, Jocelyn de Rochefort's heart caught in her throat. The descendent of Marie LeGarde, member of the family and for all purposes her sister, was more stunninglly beautiful than usual. Her hair unbound and flowing, her countenance and grace, even her scent was one that was as heady and intoxicating as a wild forest glen filled with flowers. It was as if every plant, every flower and sprig fought amongst themselves and willingly sacrificed them to be near her, to adorn her body or to lend their life's power to her magic.
When Amarante bowed and was surrounded by the protective ring of fellow Temple Priestesses around her, Jocelyn wordlessly rose from the ornately carved throne. The Regent nor anyone else dared attempt to remind her of protocol as she did so, descending the three steps to where Amarante knelt in a rustle of silk and brocade.
Jocelyn reached out not only with the hand that bore the signet ring of her office but both of her hands. Pulling Amarante to her Jocelyn embraced the other woman, pressing her cheeks into each of the Faeling's then kissed her in the center of her forehead.. "You are my sister," Jocelyn gave her the smallest of smiles."Come. Be where you belong."
Before Amarante could refuse Jocelyn led her up the stairs to stand next to Melek Taus. She then resumed her seat upon the throne of carved Faery steets and dragons entwined with scrollwork and scenes of Elven lore. The priestesses bowed in unison, then each in turn pressed their forehead first to the coffin holding her mother, then bowed to the one that held the form of her father. Where, she wondered, was Kai? Had he not mentioned he would come to pay his respects to her parents?
She scanned the crowd discreetly, looking for some sign of him. Seeking comfort of the familiar, Jocelyn reached out a hand and caught that of Amarante, giving it a slight squeeze. There was much that she needed to tell her but not yet. The Seelie princes were watching their every move trying to determine where they might stand in the scheme of things.