"Please."
The man's fingers were cold, tips stained red by the harsh wind that rattled through the sparse trees, money clattering to the smooth stone floor as his hands trembled.
"Please," he whispered once more, voice hoarse as he repeated his plea, once a desperate scream many days ago, now faded to a soft whisper.
And yet it was heard.
"I know he was yours to take, but he was mine to have" Steve began his plea again, words falling on unhearing ears, outstretched hands curled to push the scant coppers into the offered silver palm, metal and unforgiving against caresses. He remained kneeling there as rain plummeted down from the heavens, plastering lank and lifeless blonde hair to his cheeks, masking the steady drip of tears from bloodshot blue eyes. The single flame inside the small shrine flickered and danced, fighting against the gusts of cold wind that invaded the sanctuary through the many gaping holes in the roof and walls, the signs of a battle still engraved on every stone and yet still it remained strong. And still the man remained.
He kept his head lowered, it was too painful to gaze upon it now and he did not believe that the tightening of his heart and the sorrow that pounded through his veins would ever change as he could still picture for the face the statue wore was a familiar one, and now one that would his every moment, both waking and lost in the blackness that constituted as rest for him ever since that day. He- It faced the horizon, face calm as it never had been in life as unseeing eyes stared out to the point where the sea melded with the horizon, one hand outstretched in an offering and the other almost shocking in its absence.
Heavy bells rang out once more as Steve stirred, bones cracking as he wavered to his feet, a mumbled offering the first thing to fall from his lips as he stumbled back down to town, another nightly vigil leaving him a broken man.
Slowly, silver melted from the statue, running in rivulets to hiss on impact as the figure collapsed heavily, breathing once more.