The Grey Storm

8

Mira's last sweet moments
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Isamiona got dressed into white velvety dress. Wrapping a navy blue skirt around her waist, tying the soft fabric belts of the skirt into a bow. Her feet had matching navy blue velvety heels which looked like ballet pointe slippers with a one inch heel. Her hair had a long kihari over her head, sitting on her bun with a gold tiara sitting on her head. The headdress was an eleven karat gold shaped into a tiara with tiny branches right around decorated with Sapphire diamond leaves. Putting a black lace slash over her shoulders, taking off her neck brace. Knowing she's not properly healed, her face was now cleared up from bruising and cuts.

Before leaving the room, a few of her mother's female family members approved the look, sliding on white lace gloves on. Breathing slowly to control her emotions, forced to erase them so she can be a strong Head figure for the family. Isamiona didn't know what to feel; sorrow, anger, cry and laugh or still be in denial. She's still not feeling the lost of her mother yet and it upsets her. The guards kneeled as she walked pass through the hallway, passing lines of guards. Hearing a priest chanting prayers in Malagrian, the praying got louder as she was near the hall for the memorial service.

As she entered, the hall was filled with Hillas. Her mother's favourite flower, lilac coloured flower with a long thin green stem with tiny bunches of Hillas bunched on either sides. Outsiders of Malagarian culture mistakes Hillas for Lavender but it's English name means the: “Violet flower”. Big bouquets of Hillas stacked on the aisle and in the front of the hall, very pleased of Earlene being in charged decorating the hall.

The whole hall stood up from their seats as they bowed lowly for the next ruler of Leliä, Iseul tried to reach for her hand for supported but Isamiona walked pass him ignoring him which made him grit his teeth in anger. The hall was little, it was just her mother's: brother, niece, her niece's family. The Seoul's police department, her mother's husband and his parents. Obviously Iseul and Hyo were obviously there, then the four brothers, Elijah and Ethan.

From the Royal side was, Lady Dallia-Mira. Eüya's Lady-in-waiting and last mother of Iseul's children alive, the mother of Warry and Gift. She's standing in today for Eüya, along with other Ladies-in-waiting and Lords from all other noble families stemming from Zetharaoh and Nara Island of those who cannot attend.

Dropping down to her knees in front of the ashes of her mother and the portrait of her first noble appearance after getting married to Iseul, memories flooded through Isamiona like train bolting by: the times they had Sunday breakfasts in a new cafe or restaurant. Sitting on the balcony watching the sunset, childhood memories of playing in the park with her mother and her stepfather. Holding back her tears, as she looked down the Gangeree drum. Raising a hand as she strike the drum hard as it echoed. Then striking the drum with both hands, two slow beats, three fast beats.

Hyo lean against her husband, whispering low enough for him to hear. "What is she doing?" Iseul watching Isamiona. "It's a Gangeree drum, it means: the war drum. Isamiona seems to tell Goddess Mira Ossä that she avenged her mother's death. So she has to beat it a hundred times with both hands."

"Avenged?"

"Beats me," Iseul shrugged as Hyo used her heel to stomp on Iseul's foot as he groaned quietly. "Not the time for puns," making him looked at her with wide eyes shaking his head as Isamiona was near to the end as her Gangeree drum ritual, Isamiona's hands were sore and red from how hard she's been hitting but ignored the pain. Once she was done, she slammed both palms together as the drum thundered.

Now feeling of her mother no longer here with her anymore, that shattered Isamiona from the inside. The ache in her chest swelled even more, like her soul died along with her mother and a tight lump in her throat from almost not speak. Still clinging hope that her mother was alive somewhere in the world, the Priest looked at Isamiona in empathy before placing a red silk gown into her hands. It was her mother's favourite gown from when she was still married to Iseul. Bowing down four times before the urn, kissing it. Placing a mini bouquet of Hilias next to a tiny metallic pot, "Rest now, you deserve a peaceful journey." she whispered barely containing herself, getting back up as she bowed once more before the urn around to sit in front with the Ladies-in-waiting who were in tears and consoling Isamiona who was conflicted to break down in public but the Widower besides her held his hand as their metallic skins clinked together.