Main theme: Metro Exodus rap by Jt Music, featuring Andrea Storm Kaden
Theme: The House of Healing from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King soundtrack
He hated funerals.
It was always a marked time of mourning- Of gathering around and understanding that friends had been lost, of realising how fragile that thing called mortality truly was, and wondering when it would be coming for you too.
He hated it.
He really hated it.
His head was hidden beneath a cloak as he stood with the masses in the snow and the wind, all of them gathered together to put their dead to rest. They didn't have the resources to bury the thousands of dead. Only dispose of them, or keep them laid out in the middle of the Atlesian tundra, preserved to be properly disposed of later.
Instead, in the middle of the growing settlement made from the scavenged remains of Atlas and the shipyards of the Epos Mountains, a giant slate of burnt metal had been placed in the centre of the growing community in the shadow of Atlas, the names of those known to be lost scraped and chiselled into the steel, smoothed down at its edges by scrappers and ironworkers.
A group of Mandarins had gathered around the slab of metal in a semi-circle, burning torches in one's hand as the rest spready coal and fire starters around the metal. A few seconds later, the one with the torch in his hand pressed it down into the coal and fire starters, and a circle of fire spread around the metal. It was supposed to be an old Mandarin ritual, of helping the spirits of the dead- Those who died in battle- Find their way to the afterlife, but he didn't know enough about it to make heads or tails of it.
He would've asked, but he had a feeling that if he showed his face around these people, it would only make things worse for him than they already were.
"Our fallen brothers and sisters... Though they may not seem to be with us now, they are still at our side, from now and forever," the Mandarin with a cape wrapped around his armour and an inverted crest atop his helmet- He assumed him to be some sort of priest- Began to speak, writing an eulogy for them to the crowds around them, the mourners and the lovelorn, "Those that we have lost are waiting for us, in whatever afterlife you may believe in. Wherever you believe in the Brother Gods, Azul Primus, or any other deity, know that those whom you once held close to you are not lost, and that they wait for us in the worlds beyond our own. But that does not mean that they are truly gone. It is as I said: They are with us, besides us, standing side by side, either blessing us with their after-world wisdom, or riding alongside us when we march into the fields of battle against the creatures of darkness that stand against us.
"Take heart, and know that though those we have lost may be a world apart from us, they are still with us, and smile on us as we laugh and strive and live, for their sakes and our own. Live you life as you would have before, and know that no matter what, our ancestors and loved ones await you in the eternal arcadias of life beyond life. Let death have no hold over you, for the fear of death is the enemy of life. Live your lives as you see fit, in happiness and prosperity, and you shall know that those we have lost will be sharing in that happiness as well.
"For those who have been lost, we shall continue on in their name."
A quiet chorus of prayer followed, all of different religions and cultures, all commingling together into a shared song of well wishes made by well-wishers, before the Mandarin priest stepped away, to allow a girl in scraped, burnt Mandarin armour and a pretty face to step up to the front of the crowds, in front of the giant slab of metal surrounded by fire, and began to sing.
He didn't catch the words of the song, though- Only the melody, soft and mournful of all that had passed, but he didn't pay much attention to the words- His attention was directed to the slab of metal, and the names that had been carved into it, written in both modern day basic and old Germanic. Names such as Ransel Torban and Clover Ebi stood out to him, but other names he couldn't quite make out through the lights of the fire. Words like Ivori, Ivy, Kobalt, Bianca, Roane and Ruda stood out to her, but he couldn't make out any last names on them from behind the light and flame. He was too small in stature to make them out properly.
He wasn't looking for those names, though. Just three. Or maybe even just two.
Or maybe even just one.
There. Near the bottom corner of the slab, between the names of Councillors Sleet and Camilla, and next to the name of a woman simply known as Fria, was one of the names that he was looking for.
Klein Sieben.
He was up there.
Now, where were the other two?
The singer continued her song, her words a gentle hum as her lyrics sailed through the air and into the hearts and minds of those that would listen, but he was not one of them. He was too busy. He wanted to find their names.
He didn't expect to see Cinder Ella or Malcom Croft's names up on the slab, but he had hoped to see at least those two up there (Or at least one of those two), But he could see no mention of them at all.
Not yet at least.
So he looked.
And looked.
And looked.
And looked.
And kept on looking even when the singing ended and the mourners eventually dispersed into their groups and unions, himself left to stand there, alone in the cold, the winds quietly blowing around him with a soft chill to him and the few mourners in black fur coats who were lingering behind him.
…
Nothing.
No names.
Not their names.
Not at all.
He didn't expect his father to be there, no.
But his mother...
His mother, who had died right in front of him...
…
A hand gently fell upon his shoulder. He looked up, and saw Mr Ren looking down at him, a soft look upon him. Behind him, Nora Valkyrie sheltered underneath a similar fur coat (She was quite finicky about the fabric that was used. She didn't seem to like chiffon fabric for some reason), An exoskeleton frame attached to her left leg to help her move, wincing every time she put weight on it. Behind her, Sienna Khan, a cloak covering her head and ears, looked away.
He stepped forwards, inching closer and closer to the slab of metal, until he was right in front of it, and his knees were planted down in the snow and soot beneath him. None of the others stopped him.
For them to not include his father in the memorial was one thing. One that he couldn't fault them for. But for them to not include his mother... The one who had saved him from certain death once, even twice over...
Despite all of her flaws- All of her drunken misery and failure at parenting- She was still his mother.
She had still saved him.
Tears fell down his face as his finger planted itself into the soot below. Without thinking, he began to use the soot like pencil lead.
The singer's gentle song suddenly came back into his mind as he began to write into the bottom of the metal slab.
With a sigh, you turn away
First a W, then an I.
With a deepening heart
Then two Ls.
No more words to say
Then an O.
You will find that the world
And finally, a W
Has changed, forever
She had been right, the singer. The world had changed forever. His world had changed forever. Everything that he once know- That which he once trusted and believed in, and almost all of the people that he had once held so close to him...
It was all gone.
All he had left to give was his life.
Even if those that had passed away for him did not want him to give that away as well.
Gods above, that was something horrible to think about, wasn't it?
People had died because of him.
People had died for him.
Both Klein... And his mother.
Klein had his honours placed upon this memorial. His mother, for all her damnable flaws, at least deserved the same.
And the trees are now turning
Once more, he began to write, starting with an S.
From green to gold
As he wrote the C and the H, he mused that this seemed to be the final end for his family. His sisters were still alive, yes, but they were scattered across the world, and had long since abandoned their family name in their own acts of rebellion. So the only one left that had truly lived for their family name... Was him.
And the sun is now fading
He mused as he wrote the N into the metal. Maybe he should follow in their footsteps. Leave his family name behind like they had. The Schnees had been born in Atlas. Maybe it was best that they died there as well.
I wish I could hold you closer
…
Yeah.
He wished so too.
The last two letters of her name- A pair of Es- And the work was done.
Willow Schnee had now joined the passing of those who had been lost.
May she find her own way home.
A figure knelt down next to him, and he looked to her to see Sienna Khan inspecting his work, before looking at him with a conflicted look on her face.
"Not your father?"
He shook his head.
"Are you going to put him up there?"
He shook his head again.
"...Okay."
She stood back up onto her feet, and presented him her hand.
Whitley Schnee took it, and allowed her to guide him away from the memorial, and back into the safety and warmth of the homes around them, Ren and Nora following closely behind.
Let those who passed away find their way to their eternal paradise.
Amen.
Reviewer response time:
MilitiaMasker: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO- Thank you for the review!- OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Wow, a lot more people died in these two arcs than I thought would've when I was writing this.
Huh.