((OOC Note:: Please take this posting as if it happened mid January. Sorry for the delay and hope you enjoy!))
The day weighted heavy upon Miranda to the point she felt movement, either by time or force was impossible, yet her lips continued to move. Her hand rested on the cold wooden casket, which had been kept closed. Dark metal roses climbed the wood from the base to the rounded top. Gracefully twisting to form a plaque, Morgan's name scrolled a crossed it. Part of her wanted to feel him, hear him stir within this damning box or to wake up to find this a dream, but she had promised to be strong. To be strong for the coven, for their friends and the heart they shared so dearly, their daughter Angel.
Angel sat in a chair watching her mommy in her white dress. Little black patten shoes swinging in the air as her tears were caught by her best friend, bunny. That wasn't her daddy in the pretty box. Daddy would be home when they went back. He couldn't be gone. Hiccuping softly as her mother's calm and smooth voice continued to carry over the small gathering.
Only close friends and members had been invited to the ceremony. White candles flickered from their stone and glass holders adding the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine to the air. Miranda looked like a bride. The white gown hugged her torso tight, while flowing sleeves of sheer fabric rolled down her arms falling just short of her wrists. The full skirt and bodice had been lovingly decorated with lace in an antique silver. Her jewelry kept simple to a silver bell around her neck and small crystal roses for earrings. To most this might seem strange, Angel and herself in white, but culturally for her this was common. The passing of a loved one you wear white to reflect light and project a pure energy so that their passing into summerland is joyous.
?My dear friends. We have gathered here today to honor a great man, Morgan Doyle. The founder of Bristle Crios, leader of Warrior house, devoted father and friend.?