The winter chill of the northern blizzard gripped her, no way towards the ships, not anymore and no wildling man, woman or child could escape them. The screeching as the gates of HardHolme came down and the roars of men drowned out by the bellows of Wun Wun, the wildling Giant. How had it come to be again, having remembered her escape onto the boat with... Irenya swung her sword with might, kicking about her precisely and striking down the corpses that gripped at her.
"Crow!" Tormund's voice, it bellowed over the howling wind, Irenya turning about towards him and falling as her legs were pulled from beneath her by boney fingers. Pale skin of death and eyes of ice glaring into her wide, bewildered blue ones. Fangs etching closer to her neck whilst her knee pressed against the white walker's chest to keep it at bay. Suddenly the beast is gone replaced by a black winter glove and umber eyes.
"Jon." It was merely a whisper that escaped her lips.
"Crow!"
Irenya's eyes opened from the memories of Hardholme to the all to familiar stones to the darkened cells of Castle Black.
"Rise up, Crow." Irenya's weakened eyes drifted lazily towards Tormund, standing within the doorway to the cell, almost filling it completely. A smile, revealing partially bloodied teeth that trickled from the corner of her mouth moved idly across her lips.
"Wildling."
"Commander's Woman. Come, we're fighting for Snow."
"He's gone. I saw. The blood cover the ground, he went pale and cold. I could do nothing."
"The red woman..." Tormund struggled. " Could bring him back." He hauled her light frame to standing as she limped her way from the cells. "Come."
Outside, the courtyard was alive. A pitiful stance of night's watch against a Wildling army. The southern gates existing in an obliterated form in Wun Wun's proud stance. Irenya's ears purked up to Thorne's commands as he was dragged by her towards the cells. Filled with fury, Irenya threatened to lunge only being restrained by her weakness. Tormund's large stature guided her up the steps.
The creaking of the door did not mask the sense of death within the chamber and the silence low, bringing about the reality of what she saw. He was pale, like snow was no longer just his name. He had now become it. Blood coated his leather jerkin, the redness showing through against the black. Irenya placed her hand in his and glanced over numbly at how even the winds of winter they have endured were not as cold as him now. The silence broken by Davvos followed by the Red woman, red robes flowing as she entered, her face a mirror of shattered spirit. Her glance towards Irenya reading, recognising the hope within her as she weakly sat upon the stool nearby, watching the removal of Jon's clothing and the reveal of the wounds. Straight and precise. Silence filled as the blood upon his skin was washed away, his modesty covered by a mere sheet. Irenya watched the red woman smooth over the wounds with water, cleansing them before dousing his ebony mane that flowed shortly off the table. Her fingers running through it softly before shearing away a piece, incanting in a language that none present knew.
"Se kisen se trosose." Her voice soft almost fearful as she sheared away more strands and tossing them into the fire. The smell of burning hair softly drifting. "Zehese perkese ziysese ar menpi. Zer os monhas zul ar mantose. Ze gakon." Placing down the pot, she stepped hesitantly towards his corpse, placing her dainty hands upon his abdomen.
"Hena Zen droro yus en perses, ki perses. En morhod glyson." Her words met with nothing. "hena Zen droro yus en perses en morhod glyson. Hena Zen droro yus en perses yus en perses, yus en perses." Each word rung out her despair and desperation. Jon's body still. "please..."
Irenya battled back the tear that threatened to fall. "Jon, Eretu ye." She whispered. "Come back, please." The red woman stopped, glancing a despaired look to Davvos as Tormund burst from the room and Irenya lowered her head in stifled pain. One by one, they left the room in silence until, after giving a respectful nod and leaving, Irenya was alone. Struggling to a shaky stand approaching.
"Goodbye." Her tears fell as she brushed away his hair and placing a gentle kiss upon his brow. Glancing over to the pale fur of ghost sleeping, watching over his master as she turned away, her hands placed upon the walls as she limped, head looking down towards the ground as tears paved her way within the torch lit corridor. Soft howls of wind filled the walkway she eased in before ghost stirred within the room behind her and her head raising switly, wide eyed to startled gasps behind her, coming from the room.