Lorcan hadn't said any more than necessary the last couple of days. He had gone to St. Mungos alone, had faced the task of identifying his daughter's body, had made the funeral arrangements alone--all in an effort to keep his family away from any more unpleasantness than he had to let them face.
His own private consumption of alcohol and cigarettes had been at an all time high since Shaw had said Dyllan had murdered her. It was his only way to cope. He'd had no patience for food or sleep either one. His daughter wasn't doing either. It seemed like a slap in her beautiful face to do so.
And he was a bit angrier now. More because the weather for Alexis's funeral yesterday had seemed like one more cruel Order joke. Blissfully sunny and balmy and cheerful, more suited for pool parties. Not burying one's child.
He was relieved when the rain had started in today at daybreak. Not storming, just a steady summer rain, with enough dark clouds to live up to the expectations he had wanted of the weather gods yesterday. He'd returned today to the cemetery, in trim designer dress jeans, a charcoal grey v necked summer sweater with the sleeves pushed up to a 3/4 length, and gray canvas slip-ons, a pair of dark aviators covering his eyes. And in his hand, one red rose.
As he walked through the cemetery, he found the graves of all the friends of Jack Dyllan's, with all their headstones beautifully adorned with bright, happy flowers. In his bitterness, he made a slashing motion with his wand, destroying ever little blossom those graves had.
When he got to Alexis's new grave, he silently laid the red rose on the mound of mud that covered the casket. He couldn't begin to summon any words, so he simply stood in the rain, listening to the sound of the rain hitting the mud that marked her resting place.