|Summary:||A silent Sister prepares the body of a murdered boy for burial. Nobility meddles.|
|Related Logs:||Secret Admirer Of Your Corpse|
|Clearing by the river - Stonebridge|
|downriver of the town|
|3 August, 288|
Just a small clearing off the beaten path of town is where the Sister has been caring for the deceased young man that was dredged up from the river. Currently, the body lies in state on a narrow wooden table, looking pale from blood loss. The Silent Sister here has taken care to make his body look presentable to anyone who would inquire. A small fire smolders nearby, smelling of heady herbs that mask any scent of death in the immediate area. Wordlessly, Gwynaeth goes about her duty, quietly praying over the body and finishing the last tasks of washing and dressing before burial.
The distant sound of a trio of horses reaches the ear, moving at a brisk, but un panicked pace from the direction of the town. Rygar Nayland, trailed by a pair of retainers, reins his horse in to slow upon catching sight of the funerary preparations underway. Keen blue eyes taking in the smoldering fire, the solitary woman, and the corpose on the table, the stern kngiht dismounts, passing his steed's reins to one of the two retainers in the quartered Nayland/Tordane livery of Stonebridge.
Gwynaeth finishes whatever rite she was in the middle of, circling around the table and meeting Rygar halfway. Hurriedly, in fact. She bows not once but twice, her movements quick and shy, her shoulders hunched forward and her hands clasped. Said hands are doused white with whatever salts and powders the Sisters use during their rituals, but anyone with a shred of chirgeony lore knows that there are ways to protect oneself from diseases of the dead. Naturally, she says nothing, her eyes averted to the ground, but occasionally taking quick glimpses of Rygar and his men. An obedient, meek, humble Sister.
Rygar nods curtly once, pulling off his riding gloves one finger at a time. Clutching both gloves within it, he makes a dismissive motion of the right hand, nodding curtly once to acknowledge the bows. "I wish to look upon the corpse," he states cold and precise. "In particular any wounds or items found upon it." As the silent sister's eyes are averted, the lean nobleman does not keep his own eye on her, rather upon the dead boy.
Quickly answering the Ser's request, the Sister scurries back behind the table and produces a rickety wooden box. She sets the box aside, as the lord asked for the inspection, first. Pulling back the gossamer cloth covering the corpse, she makes a few gestures which are no doubt holy and meant to maintain the blessings of the Seven while Rygar does his inspection. Gwynaeth is quick to point out the necktie that the young man is wearing, the cut having been cleaned of blood. She holds up two index fingers at a distance apart, then points to the blade again, perhaps suggesting the size of the blade used to kill this poor boy.
Rygar is careful not to touch the body in stepping nearer, composing hands at the small of his back as he leans over the corpse to inspect the throat wound. Severe blue eyes fix on Gwynaeth's fingers as the makes that motion, brows drawing together with a frown as he looks back to the dead boy's throat. "Ah," he notes, a moment later. "A proper dagger, not some peasant's knife? Hmm." Narrowing slightly as he visibly mulls over the information, he looks back to the sister, inquiring, "You are certain? Are there any other wounds upon it?"
Gwynaeth shakes her head, hovering her hands above the boy's chest and then down past through his knees, as if to indicate she checked him thoroughly. Then, she removes the lid from the box, and presents it to Rygar for his inspection: inside, an empty hunting knife sheath, a pouch with several silver stags and smaller copper coins resting atop it (as if she inspected the contents), a fishbone comb, and a variety of other bits and ends.
Rygar accepts the box containing the leavings of the boy's life with a short nod, taking a quick count of that within. "You do not think the missing knife killed it?" he glances back to Gwynaether to confirm, before returning his eye to the coins. Brows draw together in a deeper frown as he sniffs shortly, once.
Gwynaeth shakes her head again. Her index fingers are raised once more, but the the distance is drawn in such that it represents a much smaller length. Then, she draws the gauze back over the corpse's face, and begins to silently pray, eyes averted from Rygar's work. What happens with the boy's belongings is none of her concern.
No effort is made to conceal the metallic clink of coinage, before the box is closed again and set back where he had observed Gwynaeth draw it from. The nobleman stands and waits for the silent sister to complete her prayer, having at least enough courtesy not to interrupt her devotions for a time.
Gwynaeth finishes, placing her hands above where the boy's heart would be. She has no fear of death, being one who is said to be married to the Stranger. Peering up at Rygar, she blinks owlishly a few times, and then an unseen, covered smile that reaches her eyes. Clearly this Sister cares deeply for her work. She dips her head towards Rygar, awaiting his instruction.
Rygar draws a breath through the nose, before voicing precisely, "Should any family come forth, they may claim what remains. Should no family present themselves, the coppers are for your Order's labor. You will be completed before nightfall?" he asks, familiar enough with the Silent Sisters to ask only yes or no questions.
Gwynaeth dips her head as an affirmative. Gesturing off towards a copse of trees, several other gravestones can be seen where common folk in the area have been laid to rest. She then looks up towards the sky, gesturing up towards the sun, and then arcing downward towards the horizon. Sunset is when she plans to bury him.
Rygar nods curtly again. "Good," the knight states plainly. "Should no other accomodations be prepared, those of the Faith are permitted meals and a place overnight in the common hall at Tordane Tower." He offers no benediction in parting, not any outward sign of devotions. As is common among nobles, he makes no bow or motion of deference to the Silent Sister. Rygar simply turns and steps back toward his waiting horse.
As Rygar makes his way away, Gwyn is quick to bow, several times for good measure. Upon Rygar and his men taking leave, she's quick to get back to her duties.