[Cyrus Marius]

The soldier's lone cobalt eye roamed from figure to figure as the dreary procession neared, a face or two perhaps looking up to find him appraising them, but for the most part they seemed focused on their lost loved one. He recognized some from time he had spent in the city, figures that had crossed the legionnaire's path and left their impression, however brief their interaction, on him enough to be remembered by sight alone. At his side, Pandora was curled in a relaxed and comfortable position, entirely unafraid of the dark and dire surroundings in which she and her bondmate reclined. Cyrus, for his part, sat upon a small section of sodden and moist grass, somewhat above and away from the path walked by the throng of mourners, and simply watched in silence as they passed.

Zinn'Sunn offered one an immense selection of locations in which one could sit in silence and reflect upon their world, but on this brightening, something had drawn Cyrus to this particular spot. It was like an unconcious acquiescence to an unseen and unsensed energy that flowed through the air, beckoning him with it's invisible hand to visit the graveyard. For the young soldier, it was simply an opportunity to indulge his more dramatic and morbid side, and to rest with those that slept forever, those that he sometimes felt closer to then the living. With no physical crypt for his slain family to call their own, Cyrus could dream they rested where they chose, and here among the dead, he felt closer to them then he had in a long while.

His curiosity piqued by the arrival of yet another familiar face, the deadly and beautiful Jade, the young soldier casually stood and brushed several stray blades of grass from his backside. The oppressive heat prompted him to wear only his dark red-colored vest, embroidered in gold with it's twin dragon relief, and a pair of loose-fitting black leggings that tucked into the tops of his black leather boots. His long mane of golden ringlets and curls was tied back in a single tail that hung down the center of his back, reaching now almost to his waistline, and small, thin leather bracelets decorated his wrists. At his left hip hung the legionnaire's longsword, the powerful and mysterious Karvaaka, and at his right rested one of the tanto daggers he had purchased at Garen's weapon shop. The tanto's twin rested in the back of his waistband, beneath his belt, ready to leap into the soldier's hand at the first signs of danger.

A lone raven's call caught the soldier's attention and his sapphire-color eye drifted towards it, a strange chill running down his spine at the herald of death's shrill cry. Cyrus stared at the raven for a long moment, but then with the barest inclination of his head, he bade Pandora follow him as he turned and began heading in the direction of the assembled people. Without a word, his canine companion rose fluidly to her feet, her every movement like molten shadow, and with a silent step she loped to his side. The two walked boldly through the graveyard, defiantly dismissive of the lingering sense of foreboding and dread that permiated the very air around them.