Bellona

She walked slowly, solemnly, with an air of authority around her. Wisps of dark hair had slipped from her braid, floating around her face like tiny strands of dark fog. Her eyes were dark, expression neutral, eyes staring straight forward. Everything about her, from her stiff shoulders and clenched knuckles around her staff and the harshly neutral expression on her face screamed that she was trying very, very hard to keep her emotions under control, but little cracks of absolute fury were seeping through like blood from a slash wound. Funny how leading the funeral parade of your best friend in front of the group of people responsible for his death would do that to you.