Author's Note - I am fairly certain that I am going to regret posting this, but here we are regardless. I have not written fanfiction in quite some time and was convinced to by some members of a discord server I recently joined, though I feel pretty terrible about what I have written. A lot of this was created in a half asleep state so I apologize for grammar issues, particularly in the tense, I have been unable to get a proper amount of sleep or focus as of late. I apologize as well for my absence. I do not know if I will continue writing fanfiction, but regardless, here's some meaningless garbage.
Loss brings with it heaviness, a kind of weight that places itself within the limbs, making movement itself an effort, while leaving the chest empty except for an overwhelming grief. It's this heaviness that leads to the depression that is so often felt after the death of a loved one. This pain is unfortunately common, and it's a burden that can follow its owner for years.
This heaviness is the force that holds the Elven wizard, Taako, in place, his shoulders drooping and his gaze angled toward the dirt. Elves, with their extended lives and timeless perspectives, see more death that the average beings of this world, though the last to experience it; mortality is a complicated concept in the life of an elf. In the case of Taako specifically, though the elf's own death was far off, he had witnessed far too much of it. The death of others had stopped becoming a concern to Taako in his century on the Starblaster, he'd arrived at the conclusion that he couldn't save everyone, so what did the deaths of a few strangers - or even societies - matter in the big picture?
This was Taako's perspective on death for many years; it didn't matter, and he carried that view with him. Until recently, that is, when he found out one of his closest friends was about to face death.
It was Magnus, the human fighter, with whom the elf had gone on years worth of adventures with, even beyond the 100 spent traveling from plane to plane. The two shared a million memories, fought side by side in a hundred battles, seen each other through tens of troubles, but now, due to the simple misfortune of differing lifespans, their time together was ending. Perhaps it would have been easier, to the slightest extent, if it were a death caused by disease or injury, but no, this was the end of a life due to a body that could no longer support it: death of old age.
Taako stood by the human's side as it happened, looking into the dull eyes of what used to be a perpetually determined man, someone who rushed into danger with little forethought and who cared deeply for everyone around him. In one moment, there was life in the husk that was once one of his closest friends, and mere seconds later, nothing. Not a sound, not a breath, not a heartbeat. Nothing. And in that moment, still in the presence of the remaining IPRE members, Angus, Carey, and Killian, Taako cries.
There's a burial.
There's a funeral.
There's a moment in which the wizard contemplates all his time spent with Magnus. And another moment in which he wonders if every moment of it was a waste, time spent on a being that would one day die before him, never able to be recovered. But Taako doesn't retain that train of thought for long, how could he think of the late human in that manner? Though some doubt remains, a seed buried in the elf's brain, a whisper about the validity of the years shared between them, about the validity of time shared between anyone.
And among all these realizations, there's a sickening thought that, in hindsight, should have been obvious to the elf from the start: Due to the simple truths of his own biology, Taako would be forced to outlive nearly everyone he cared about.
These events are the unfortunate circumstances under which the wizard now stands, perched on a hill before Magnus Burnside's grave, his knees shaking under him, as if ready to drop him at any moment.
The elf is not alone on this hill, accompanied by the reaper, Kravitz, who, even now, a year after the fighter's death, never allowed his boyfriend to make the visit without company. Typically, Kravitz would wander the cemetery while Taako pays his respects, feeling at home in a place of death, but today, the two stand side by side in the shade of the small tree growing besides Magnus's grave as the wizard kneels down to place a flower on the resting place of his former companion.
There's an overwhelming silence that hangs in the air, a tension that only strengthens the weight pulling at the elf. The two have stood in this tension for quite some time, neither sure what to say, or if there is anything to say at this point. So they continued on in an unbearable soundlessness until, finally, Taako speaks.
"What is death like?" The elf asked, eyes locked on the grave, tone low and distant. It was a strange question on the nature of mortality, in ways inappropriate, that forced Kravitz to recoil in surprise, taking a small step backwards. In response, Taako looked up, meeting his boyfriend's eyes with his own, continuing in a tone just as faraway as before. "You're a reaper; your face can turn into a skull at will, you have to know something about death. Spill it."
The force in the wizard's tone burned like acid upon reaching the reaper. Kravitz, of course, knew well that this was only the stress of grief weighing down on his boyfriend, but harsh words, regardless of their cause, tend to sting. His heart ached, wishing to comfort Taako, but being clueless as to how. "I don't think this is the time to be talking about this," The reaper responded in as calm a tone as he could muster, trying simply to push past the subject. It was true, after all, this was not the time nor the place to discuss such a topic.
Kravitz's attempts to move on were unfortunately in vain, as the elf continued to spit words loaded with venom, the bitterness intentional but the pain not. "I don't care if it's the time," Taako uttered harshly before dropping his gaze once again, spinning on his heels to face the reaper gracelessly, despite his elven heritage. He was in no state now to finesse his way through the conversation. "He's dead, they're all dying, eventually they'll all be dead. Merel, Angus, hell, even Davenport!" Bordering on yelling, strain built up in the wizard's body, the wizard's eyes remained on the grass that fanned out under his feet. His shoulders dropped as he bared his teeth, shaking his head, mostly at himself.
"Taako, darling," the reaper reached out a hand to place on Taako's shoulder, which, almost surprisingly, the elf allowed to remain there, "There are some things you're just going to have to let go." His voice floated smoothly between the two in the cool afternoon air, fingers gripping more tightly onto his boyfriend's shoulder, seeking for any sign that his words were breaking through.
For a moment, things are quiet as the wizard ponders these statements. Taako's eyes flit around distantly, trying to piece together a response of some sort. When he does speak, it's cold and empty, hanging in the air as it exists his lips. "And life is something I'll have to let go, huh?" It was a dark thought and a darker statement, an idea that few wanted to consider: that death is an inevitability that must be accepted. The idea ate at the elf's brain, and he let it, just as he let the cold hand rest on his shoulder, wishing silently that it would provide some sense of warmth, or human comfort.
Unsure how to respond to this, Kravitz's fingers drum against Taako's shoulder. "Sometimes, yes," He speaks slowly, voice laden with concern that he couldn't quite rid it of, "But in the meantime, I'm here, and the rest of the people you care about are too. It's a shame to waste your time mourning a loss when there's so much living left to do." The reaper gazed at the elf, head cocked to one side, eyes gentle and observant, worried, perhaps more so than he should be. Truthfully, Kravitz struggled to understand this, the human struggle of grief, he was so far beyond it, and he hoped silently that the gap in their experiences wouldn't show. As silence settled back on the hill, he worried that it did.
Kravitz slowly takes his hand off of Taako's shoulder as the two stand in quiet, the only noise being the soft creaks of the small tree above them. For many moments, no one speaks and no one moves, neither sure how to proceed, both contemplating the situation, waiting for the other to do something, anything. It's eventually the elf who takes the first action, uncharacteristic tears beginning to pour down his cheeks. The reaper, fearful, wraps his arms around the shorter being, wishing that his hands could produce warmth. Digging deeper into Kravitz's embrace, Taako rests his face against his boyfriend's chest, muttering weakly. "I miss him."
The reaper holds the elf tightly, rocking him back and forth in a gentle motion. "I know, darling, but it was his time. He's in the Astral plane now. He lived a full life and, in the end, he was happy. You'll see him again one day, but for now, you have people who care about you." There's a pause, during which his dark eyes scan the creature in his grasp, an elf of nearly four hundred years, sobbing into his chest, and during that pause, Kravitz wishes with his entire being for the right words. "You'll be okay. Eventually."
Loss brings with it heaviness, a clouding burden that hangs over a being long after the event that causes it, making holding on to life sometimes seem a burden and movement an impossibility. It's accompanied by grief and a million questions, most of which don't have answers, and even more have answers that are less than satisfactory. But sometimes, when faced with the death of a loved one, all one can do is keep going, despite all adversary. Death weighs heavily, but there's so much more to life than it's end, and even if it's end is inevitable, living while there's still time is worth it.
Later that day, Taako and Kravitz would sit down side by side, discussing their differences, learning to understand each other's perspectives on death, recognizing for the first time in a while that their experiences of reality aren't the same, but remembering that these variations are something to celebrate.
These are the lessons Taako would learn in the years following Magnus's death. Though the elf would never stop mourning the human, and the deaths following his would bring equal, if not worse, torment, with the help of those he still had, he lived on, holding tightly to those he still had.
And, inevitably, his own turn eventually came. But that's not a story for today.