A Knight to Remember

[Jerome Price]

He regards Amelia carefully, "I would not worry about the source of the blade, as to where it came from..." he gestures to the hessian sack off to one side, "I made a few arrangements for this evening, and so I would be most obliged if you might take up the weapon for a time before we lay it to rest here." Letting the blade swing from horizontal to vertical and driving the point of the weapon's sheath into the soft earth before Amelia. Turning he returns to the sack and pulls forth the shield, a plain green shield with a golden lion rampant. Disentangling the shield from the cloth Jerome strides to the head of the grave.

With some solemnity, Jerome grips the sides of the shield and then drives the base of it into the earth forming a makeshift tombstone. Standing close to Amelia and the blade he looks out at the gathered kindred. *AHEM* The sound is odd, a false one for a kindred who has no need to clear his throat and not particularly committal, not entirely caring to get everyone's attention.

"Thank you all for coming. Whatever he may have done in his past, whatever philosophies he may have followed, tonight is simply a chance to say your goodbyes for a warrior who fought beside us and died in service to a cause. Say goodbye as you wish, with curses, platitudes or honest respect - personally I found a few words which I felt were appropriate in a poem by Tennyson..."

He pauses and looks off into the middle distance, recalling the words and reciting whether anyone stops to listen or not...
"The voice that billowed round the barriers roar
An ocean-sounding welcome to one knight,
But newly-entered, taller than the rest,
And armoured all in forest green, whereon
There tript a hundred tiny silver deer,
And wearing but a holly-spray for crest,
With ever-scattering berries, and on shield
A spear, a harp, a bugle-Tristram-late
From overseas in Brittany returned,
And marriage with a princess of that realm,
Isolt the White-Sir Tristram of the Woods-
Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime with pain
His own against him, and now yearned to shake
The burthen off his heart in one full shock
With Tristram even to death: his strong hands gript
And dinted the gilt dragons right and left,
Until he groaned for wrath-so many of those,
That ware their ladies' colours on the casque,
Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds,
And there with gibes and flickering mockeries
Stood, while he muttered, `Craven crests! O shame!
What faith have these in whom they sware to love?
The glory of our Round Table is no more."

[Andross Blint]

"Your words honour me Elder Verity, I merely do what i can to be where i can and keep up with the comings and goings within the city. As ever i can merely thank those putting on such marvellous pertinent events for allowing me to attend."
He stands a touch awed at having apparently been memorable enough at such events for such comment to be made.

Hearing the call for attention, Andross looks round to see what the keeper has prepared, standing in a respectful posture.

[Amelia]

Amelia gently holds onto the sword and looks at it wondering how weighty it would be to hold properly. At the sound of Elder Prices cough, she looks up and listened to the keeper. Trying to be respectful and pulling the sword out of the soft ground.

[Jerome Price]

Jerome nods to Amelia in approval, "Good, you have taken up the blade and duties as sword bearer. Our brave knight has fallen, but while it is a little late I am sure he will be content in the knowledge that you, his squire, will continue his legacy. The blade is yours."

[Tatiana Ivanov]

A dark, non-descript carriage arrives at the entrance to the graveyard.

Tatianna is forced to pick her way down the tricky path with great care. The torches help guide the way but the footing is still mildly treacherous for a woman in heeled boots.

Finally, she reaches the graveside and offers Greetings to all those present.

There is a momentary pause in her movements as if she is deciding if she can fit herself in the gap next to Stephen or if she should stand by her Primogen. Tatianna decides that she'd rather stand next to Stephen than the two Elders who feel so strange.

She crosses herself and produces a small bouquet of heather from inside her black mink cape and throws it into the grave with the other floral offerings. She clasps her hands together for silent prayer and then crosses herself again.

There is the briefest of glances between her and Stephen as she turns to leave.

She hurries back to her carriage, which departs with the smart crack of a whip.

[Stephen Maturin]

Stephen, for his part, looks suddenly very flustered.

Within a few moments he bids an abrupt leave.

[Yorick Von Watenberg]

"Amelia, so long as you respect the values set down by the Camarilla your welcome to whatever legacy Tristrum left behind. In fact, I think its rather fitting that a neonate follows on in his footsteps. With that I will say no more on the man, may he in death now reap what he sow in life."

With that Yorick turns to leave, pretending not to see the glance that Tatianna throws Stephen, but smiling wordlessly in approval.