A/N: This is an odd little fic I dreamt up while listening to the Nightwish album I got for Christmas. It's based on the song Two for Tragedy, which you can find on Youtube. If you find the story confusing, that's because it's supposed to be. I meant for it to be lucid, almost like a dream. Reviews are appreciated, as I'm not quite sure what to think of this one and am leaning towards dislike. See what you think.
Two For Tragedy
Four captains were inside the small house, each wrapped in their own thoughts. The eldest looked down at the pale body that was laid out, too still, on the futon the man had so often used while he was alive. The woman was staring down at her hands, knowing she'd done all she could but still questioning how her power could have failed her. The shorter man stood slightly apart from the others, his regal bearing showing none of his inner despair and his surprise at the despair. The last of the four sat next to the futon, staring blankly at the opposite wall and drinking morosely from a large jug. He was already planning his much longed-for escape.
Each of them wished the outcome could have been different, though they had all known this was coming for quite some time.
~*~*~*~
Rain fell softly upon the white-clad crowd, causing none of the usual reactions that cascading water generally does. The people did not quicken their pace, only raised hands or umbrellas to shield their faces.
At the edge of the gray lake, two caskets sat; their lids propped just so to protect the two fallen souls from the rain. The procession stopped in front of them and one by one, the Reapers said their goodbyes. A group of nine souls, who greatly resembled one another, were the first to look upon their fallen family member. In death he was nearly the same as in life, the same little smile playing about the now-still lips.
The other soul lay much as he had on many rooftops, hands clasped upon breast and stalk of grass protruding between the lips. The hat was missing, as it was being kept by his family. He would have been quite bereft if he had known.
One young woman, hair dampened by the relentless rain, stood beside her leader's casket. Her thoughts drifted over the guilt they had both carried over the same event and how she had never placed the blame anywhere but on her own shoulders. How she wished they could have talked about it, before he had gone.
The woman's brother stood apart from her, not comforting, not speaking. Silent tears rolled down his face, masked by the softly falling rain. He was unworthy of each tear, he knew, but that only made more form; following their predecessors across his skin.
As the caskets were closed and lowered, their healer and long-time friend thought of how sad it was that one of them never voiced his emotions ad that the other never got to reciprocate them. But they were gone now -from the world and perhaps from each other- and there were still so many words between them that had been left unsaid.