Devona stretches in Altharen bed and turns to face him. She watches him for a bit as he fights his nightmare riddled sleep. She runs her fingers over his skin, leans over and gives him a kiss. They had a much needed talk last night. She had mixed feelings about it, but it had cleared a lot up. Moving over to the edge of the bed she stands and gathers her cloths. Walking out into the main room she smiles at Indria and asks her to tell Altharen she was going to see Muerte . She also wanted to stop by the Hammer and thank everyone for being understanding to why she had not been to work in the last couple of days.
She takes note of the peoples face very quickly. Their whispers are hushed and she tries to let them past her ears. Hearing the name Sionnach she growls and moves towards the stables a little quicker, she is upset with the man. Moving to the stables in the village she just gives everyone a nod and moves towards Muerte. They are looking at her differently and she can feel it. Their was rumors of her and Sionnach relationship, even though nothing had ever happened. He was her voice of reason, closest friend. It was a young stable boy that came up to her and bowed.
“My heart grieves with you Devona, at the loss of Sionnach”she tilts her head a bit, she was getting better with the slag here from working at the tavern. It takes a moment to sink in, she moves out of the stables. She feels sick, and weak for she had not ate much in the last couple of weeks, and mostly just consumed whiskey. She eyes a guard and moves over to him quickly, he takes note of her and takes a deep breath.
”Sionnach?”her voice is low, it wavers a bit.
He simple nods
“and the body is?”....her breath being rapid, there does not seem to be enough for her lungs to take in.
“The Abbey Devona” his eyes cast down as she moves towards the building.
Mixed feelings as she nears the wooden box and frozen shivers move over her body. She removes the lid. Her lips quiver and she moves her hand to sweep away some of his long strands of hair that had fallen upon his face. Heat sweeps over her skin, she was so angry with him, and now here he lays. They had parted on good term, it was story night at the castle, and she had listened to his tale. Then he came and whispered into her ear he had to leave, last time she had seen him. She moves away from the box and lets out a scream that is muffled by her clinched jaw. She does not know how to respect a place of God, her people did not have any Gods. She moves to the wall and slams her fist into the wood. She falls into the wall and her legs are too weak to hold her up. She falls to the floor. Tears weld and start to fall down her cheeks. Shaking her head a little bit she does not know what to do with these feelings. There are two parts of Devona. One that was designed to give please, and the other to give pain. They do not perform together. Shutting her eyes she turns her head to the right. This is the second person she cared about that she has seen dead. Something flickers in her and when she opens her eyes it is not Devona the red headed minx but the Scourge of Persia. She pulls herself off the floor and moves back towards the wooden box. Her expression is cold to the man she cared deeply for laying dead in the box. Wiping the tears from her skin with the back of her head she then looks over to were the arrow at hit him, studies it. Whomever did this was going to pay. She replaces the lid and turns to head out of the Abbey and back to Altharen cottage.
