Fortunato arrives. He's exchanged his pale leathers for a dressy dark with highlights of red, and he seems a bit uncomfortable with the red, to the point he's mostly obscured it with longcoat. He draws himself up by the alcove.

Merek has come in his cloak which covers him, in addition to the hood which covers his face for the most part. He settles in at the back rows in silent reverence for the shrine and the occasion.

Having set up a perch in the red-lit alcove, The Blacktongue is in his black cassock with a deep silver sash, tied off towards the right hip. The Harlequin's beard is dyed a deep red this evening - the only touch of color upon him save for the ever curious, piercing blue of his gaze which flits over the congregated with detached curiosity. While a part of The Queen's temple, he seems more than content to spectate on this one unless called forward. A respectful nod is given to Archlector Aureth as he enters, respect paid where it is due.

Fortunato has joined the red-lit alcove.

Aureth has emerged from the inner sanctum of the Shrine, its gloom cut with candlelight, and stands, waiting, before the altar, as people arrive and filter into seats around the pews. There is even more candlelight than usual, as disciples -- mostly, but not all, disciples swiped from other godsworn, because there are only so many who have embraced the path of being Harlequins -- circulate among those present with shallow dishes of water, small wax pat votive candles floating in them. The Shrine is quiet, the light red and gleaming from the alcoves, gold and dancing from the chandelier, eerie and quiet from the handheld votives.

Aureth is a solemn figure, hands clasped, long loose hair silvery gold and brushed straight in a long cascade about his shoulders. He is composed, an image of stillness. There is no snarky firebrand here, but someone serious and almost stern. For those who know him well it might almost be a little eerie in and of itself.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Victus before departing.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Alarissa before departing.

Lydia arrives in a timely fashion, dismissing her guards at the door. Since she is not one of those directly impacted by the recent events, she takes a seat at one of the rear pews.

Aleksei slips into the shrine, his steps quiet, his expression uncharacteristically somber. But it is a funeral, after all, and his subdued nature holds a distinctly respective note. He slips into a pew near the front, on the end with Orazio, and then turns his gaze to Aureth when he emerges.

Lydia has joined the pews nearest the back.

Aleksei has left the pews nearest the front.

Aleksei has joined the pews nearest the front.

Octavia enters the shrine, having switched out her violet cloak with one made of black. It's difficult to say if the Lady Kennex is more grim than usual, but she's left her usual gaggle of court officials behind at least. Finding a place among the pews, she pulls her cloak tightly about herself and watches, waiting.

In typical black leathers, though a much more decorative version of her usual ones, Thena steps almost silently into the shrine and makes her way to a spot near Orazio and Aleksei.

Thena has joined the pews nearest the back.

Shard slips in, looking a little tense and slightly hunch shouldered, with just a mix of blatantly curious to go along with her otherwise schooled expression. She spends little time looking over the shrine or its occupants, and quickly takes a seat near the back where she can have a good view of the proceedings.

Thena has left the pews nearest the back.

Thena has joined the pews nearest the front.

Shard has joined the pews nearest the back.

Victus was usually sporting a rather grim and dreary face all the time, but today he was especially glowering as he strode into the Queen of Ending's shrine. His head is held high and his eyes are stared straight at the center, but his expression is stony. Not an ounce of anything but apathy and pure regret was written among the scarred canvas of his face. Dressed in blood-black leathers, he made his way to the front of the ceremony and took his seat. Not a word came from his mouth nor a single sound otherwise, just the slow raise and fall of his chest with his breathing.

The cheshire smile has been traded for an expression of the utmost neutrality - the Jester neither jovial nor somber, just unsettingly inbetween. Blacktongue folds his hands behind his back and stands at attention, his chin tilted up slightly so he is looking down his nose.

Leona watches Aureth's entry from where she sits in the back, her expression calm and collected as a disciple glides past with a votive candle floating in a bowl of water. Others join the pews nearest her and she breaks off to look at them but her voice, when asked a question, is pitched too low to carry, leaving the solemn silence of the shrine to set the tone for the evening. When Victus enters her eyes trail him to the front of the shrine, narrowing almost unnoticeably. Almost.

Alarissa at Victus' side, a navy blue with black beading around shoulders and in sways across her back, is in step with Victus. Composed in face, the chestut haired woman moves to take a seat beside him at the front though eyes take in who's present, Aureth and the temple.

"Thank you all for coming." Aureth inhales a long, low breath through his nose, and favors his congregation with a faint shade of smile, there and gone again as an instant. "Death comes for us all eventually, at the end of our lives, to gather us into our embrace when the chapter is finished, the story complete. She does not choose our ends; she only chooses our beginnings, and from our beginnings, watches us grow, and choose, and change, to become what we are at the end, when she finds us again." His hands lift in an open gesture. "Each of us has suffered loss. Some more than others. Some merely the loss of our neighbors; others the loss of those near and dear to our hearts. We are here to remember the fallen. We are here to remember those chapters that have finished, and to honor them. As the sea swallowed our friends, our lords, our liegemen, we are here to see that those stories are remembered, not just by the gods, but by each other."

Octavia has joined the pews nearest the front.

Dagon has joined the pews nearest the front.

Monique slips in at the back, a bright flash of crimson hair amidst all the darkness. She joins the rows where she came in, careful not to make a sound, something she *can* be very good at.

Monique has joined the pews nearest the back.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Victus before departing.

"But you aren't just here to listen to me talk. Worship is a community affair; prayer is an individual task; each of you has your own soul, your own relationship with the gods, and with the Mother of Beginnings, and with the lost." Aureth smiles again, a little wider, a little more rueful, as he ducks his head. He drops his hands to hitch his thumbs into the cinch of belt across the bright gleam of his archlector's coat. "Does anyone here have stories that they'd like to share? Raise your candles if you do, and the Harlequins and I will try to be as orderly as possible about it."

Binky, an asshole crow have been dismissed.

Gregory, an unassuming disciple have been dismissed.

Leona takes a deep breath as Aureth begins to speak, her back straight and her head held high. She nods when he speaks of the stories of the lost, and there is a grief in her eyes that never quite leaves it, but when he asks of stories of the lost she raises her candle and waits patiently with steady hand.

Leona has joined the line.

Jayne Orr, Kennex Thug arrives, following Wash.

Esoka has left the pews nearest the back.

Orazio holds his candle in his hands, listening to the Archlector speak. When there is a call for stories, the Legate does not raise his candle, but bows his head, instead, contemplating the flame for a long moment. His lips move silently, before he looks out over the pews, marking the raised candles.

Octavia has joined the line.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Monique before departing.

Wash has joined the line.

Aureth gestures Leona forward and says, "I see! Our first volunteer! Excellent. Please tell us your story."

It is now Leona's turn to speak.

Leona steps forward, the sword of the King's Own incongruously strapped on over a navy blue shirt and velvet skirt and yet somehow fitting for the Lord Commander of the King's Own. Her candle stays high as she speaks, her voice carrying throughout the shrine. Her eyes remain fixed on the altar of skulls, not wavering for a moment as she tells her story of the drowned and participates in this cermony of the Queen of Endings. "There once was a sailor who spied a lady. And having looked, fell. And having fell, loved - he and she together. But he was a thrall and she was free, from another House who sailed the sea. And so they did not marry, for she would not be a thrall and he could not be free. But they had a child together by choice - for then they could be united always. And she was a sailor, and he was a thrall, but their daughter dreamed of being a guardian one day. He could not see her the day she was squired though he was proud of her and said so. He will never see her be a knight, but I promise his spirit now that I will watch over her until she is strong enough to stand on her own. And when she joins the Silver Swords I will make sure she has the gifts a father would give, the armor and the sword, that his spirit may be gathered to the Queen of Endings and rest easily, knowing his family continues on."

Leona finishes and then takes a seat, her candle never wavering, ceding the floor to someone else.

His voice quiet, Aureth bows his head to Leona. "Pride links generations, pride and love; thank you for honoring us with the tale," he says softly. Then he inhales, and lifts his chin as he nods out into the congregation.

It is now Octavia's turn to speak.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Monique before departing.

Octavia checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

Thena has left the pews nearest the front.

A huge hideously ugly mastiff have been dismissed.

1 Solace novice guards have been dismissed.

"Stormward Sunset was the first ship I christened as a young girl, a mighty dromond to rule the waves," Octavia begins as she rises from her seat, candle held in gloved hands. "Gods, I can still feel the excitement of it all, the bottle shattering on the bow, the cheers of the crowd. I remember my friend Aerin telling me 'One day, Tavi, I'll command that ship. You'll see.' She was a dreamer like that. We were just eight, and she was commonborn... how could she be so sure?" There's a pause as the judge swallows then continues, "We fell out later in life, and her letters stopped long before she got that command she dreamed of. She... she never knew that I was the one who told Lord Wash to give it to her." The Kennex lady swallows again, then sits down, leaving the story perhaps unfinished.

Alarissa has left the pews nearest the front.

Pellinor have been dismissed.

Alarissa has joined the pews nearest the front.

Aureth waits for a long moment to see if there is going to be more, and then bows his head with a trickle of breath past his teeth. He says mildly, "Thank you, my lady." His chin lifts, and then says, "Sometimes our deepest truths, the personal ones, are the ones we never share; until it's come too late. But Death's embrace will unite us all, eventually."

It is now Wash's turn to speak.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Monique before departing.

Leona nods once at Aureth's final words to Octavia, and there's a half-smile on her lips though her eyes shine. Perhaps that's just a trick of the candlelight.

A third messenger comes for Monique and the woman stands quietly and slips out, head ducked.

Monique has left the pews nearest the back.

Kit, the grey fox, Brigid the Genet leave, following Monique.

Wash checked composure + leadership at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.

Wash steps forward, steadied by a tall sailor. He isn't infirm or injured, just drunk off his ass. Jayne stands ready to make sure he doesn't go overlong. "Captain Aerin earned her commission." He agrees, identifying himself as Lord Wash without an introduction. He looks around the shrine slowly, gauging the room. He licks his lips and summons his breath to speak.

"Sixty men set out from shore on the fifteenth. Forty eight returned. Loraine. Borame. Worrell. Eldrem. Rahry. Wellem. Bartry. Harrell. Merroll. Stucky. Ontreyam. And little Correm. These are the names of those that did not return to shore." Wash says. "I've lost men, even men on my own ship. But I've never seen them sink in the grasp of an eldritch beast. I've never felt the same tug on my own leg. These were brave men that did not sign on to serve a Lord. They served aboard a ship because it was the sea that gave them life. It was the sea that made life worth living, and it was our home that ..." Wash holds up a hand and reaches into his satchel for a drink. He whets his whistle and continues somberly. "May they rest with the sea, not in some beast's gullet." His voice finishes with a tone of disgust that borders on hatred. "This... this is fear. This is... the sea... we should be..." A hand from Jayne leads Wash to slump his shoulders and leave that thought unfinished. He withdraws to the edges seating himself again.

"Their souls will come to the embrace of the Queen, whatever the fate of their mortal flesh," Aureth says quietly. He rests his hand against his chest, over his heart. "The Mother of Beginnings will find the right place for their souls again, with the love and grace that is their due." He looks out across the congregation. "Does anyone else wish to speak?"

Victus slowly stands up from the pews, giving a look toward Aureth. He doesn't speak, but he does make his intention clear in that look alone. The actual proper mode of conduct more or less lost on him.

"Of course, Your Grace." Aureth turns his hand out towards Victus, his hands folded loosely behind his back. "By all means."

Blacktongue cants his head to the side ever so slightly and crosses his arms over his chest, the right leg over the left as he leans against the wall beside him.

Leona stares at Victus as he stands to speak, and mouths something very softly. Is it a prayer?

    Merek looks up when Victus seems to be making ready to speak. He looks to that direction from beneath his hood, quiet for the time being, solemn from listening to the ceremony and memories.

Merek checked perception at difficulty 7, rolling 6 higher.

Fortunato quietly, somberly excuses himself with a quick glance at his brother and the Thraxian high lord.

Fortunato has left the red-lit alcove.

Ugarte leaves, following Fortunato.

Victus slowly moves toward the center of the room and turns on his heel to look at the crowd properly. He looks to each member of his own blood and banner in the eyes. Leona, Dagon, Octavia and Wash each respectively. "I've failed each of you." His tone unrelenting, but filled with the ever familiar sorrow that hung over the room. "As a leader, as blood. I failed in my duties to protect those sworn to the Isles and born from the salt. An apology does not do any of you justice, down to blood, loyalty, or friendship any of you shared with those that died. While I stand here in the visage of the gods, I'm making an oath to each of you now. I will see the Sentinel's justice for what I have done. I will make amends with Mangata for what I brought upon her shrine. It is what everyone here who remembers the fallen deserve."

As he falls silent again, his gaze briefly reaches the floor. "Prince Dominic was my heir to be and one of the best men my family ever produced. When I was younger I wanted to be like him. He didn't have many friends in our home but that was okay, because he made friends with Petrichor's creatures. I thought talking to dogs was weird, I thought the warpigs were weirder. But nobody else I've known had such a gift like him. He was old, curmudgeon, too big to fit through doors of any other fealty sometimes. But I loved him like a brother, for he always put us first. No matter what it was." Victus bows his head somberly. "And when things got awkward, he always told me one thing every time. 'I'm gonna go take a shit, you deal with this'." He shrugs his shoulders. "It worked more times than I can count. I hope that he's found peace in the salt now, somewhere he could be with his animals. His pride and joys." With that, he keeps his head low and slowly makes his way back to the front of the pews, seating himself silently.

Arianna gets The Doctrine of Death from a basket of free prayerbooks.

A huge hideously ugly mastiff, 1 Solace novice guards leave, following Thena.

Leona listens, her eyes growing colder and her face stonier as Victus continues to speak, but she says no words beyond a muttered oath at the pews in the back. Then she turns and says something to the woman seated next to her and is silent once more.

Shard watches and listens in silence. Apart from a small frown, her expression is neutral, entirely unreadable.

Merek watches on, not a member of the Thrax, but he seems to listen to the words. From him is a small nod, for whatever reason, not interrupting anyone, while he watches.

Aureth looks up to Victus after a long pause. He says, "It is for the Sentinel to judge the actions of living men. It is for Mangata to rule the wind and sea. It is for Petrichor to rule over the beasts. It is for Limerance to grieve with the liege lord who feels that he has failed his people and for Gloria to raise up the warrior who acts with honor upon the battlefield."

Bowing his head, Aureth brings his hands together, inhaling a long breath, and then says: "But before Death, we are human souls, each of us. She has granted you your life, and when your chapters have run run their course, she will embrace you again. Remember your dead." He looks up to the whole room. "We must all remember our dead. But we must also all embrace our lives."

Octavia's expression hardens again at mention of the Sentinel's justice, and she nods once, with no words spoken. None are needed, perhaps.

An acolyte moves quietly along the side of the shrine until it reaches Orazio's place, and whispers in his ear. He nods, whispers, back, and then stands to move quietly out, albeit not before bowing, deeply, to the High Lord, and then the Archlector of Death.

Orazio has left the pews nearest the front.

When the quiet seems almost to become deafening, Aureth inhales again and lifts his head. He says, "All things must end so that they can begin again. Hold the memories of your dead in your heart; but let them go, and live on. Let us all join together in praying to Death for the souls of those we have lost, and extinguish our candles with the water in your dish. The words we speak will go to Her, and with our prayers and our hopes given voice, and with those prayers, let your spirits take this moment to be lifted, together, in community."

    Merek blinks a bit, and then begins to participate in the supplication and worship of the Queen should others be doing so. He seems quiet and solemn about it all as he does.

Leona bows her head, offering a prayer to the Queen of Endings in her own quiet way, the tension going out of her shoulders as she does. She shifts her hand as she raises her head again and the water in the bowl extinguishes the candle before handing it off to the nearest acolyte.

Lydia listens to the speaches and the preaching. She breathes in deeply, remembering family lost to her, and saying her own silent prayers for them and all those departed.

Rather than praying, Shard seems to spend the time watching what everyone else is doing. She looks to either side, and even sits up a little straighter so that she can peek at the rows ahead of her. She makes no noise in this, however, and is clearly trying not to interrupt.

Alarissa tips over the candle in the little bowl that she holds once her own prayers have been silently offered up, the flame extinguishing as she uses her thum to do it. Eyes clothed the whole time, she keeps them closed for now.

Blacktongue turns the altar and doffing an imaginary cap, sweeps it across the ground in a flourished bow. With a caricature smile reminiscent of the grotesques on the side of the Cathedral, he nods to Aureth. His black gloved hands are hidden in the sleeves of his cassock as he folds his arms over his chest again, moving to turn for the door.

Wash is once again stirred to his feet, joining the throng to extinguish his candle. It drops with a careless plunk into the bowl and he turns to leave emptyhanded.

Lydia has left the pews nearest the back.

As the thin trails of smoke rise toward the ceiling of the shrine, Aureth says: "May all our endings lead us to new beginnings. May the souls of our loved ones come to Your arms, Mother of Beginnings. And let us say, thank you." Then he says quietly, "And thank you all for coming. The Shrine is here for you at need."

Wash doesn't know what the right supplications or worship are, and doesn't feel up to faking it. He stands listlessly by the exit, Jayne quietly at his side.

Dagon has left the pews nearest the front.