Song from the Crash Test Dummies, it is called 'At My Funeral'. I don't own it. I don't own LOK, I don't own Janos.
I do own a Chibi-Janos though! n_n *huggles him*
and this fic, so nah!
No sueing!
oh yeah and, a bit of the religous things going on, talk of Death, and spoilers for SR2.
*Kills FFN's auto HTMLing*
Vigil
II'm still young, but I know my days are numbered;
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven and so on.
But a time will come when these numbers have all ended,
And all I've ever seen will be forgotten./I
He flexed his hands, looking down at them sadly. His eyes focused beyond his hands and into the perfect mirror surface of the ice. He didn't need floors, the halls were large enough to fly though, but the ice and it's perfect reflective surface reminded him of the silver cities of long ago. Now he saw his face, his eyes. He was so old, trapped forever in this body, his eyes knowing the truth, having seen so much--and they don't care. And when he died, it would be lost, and they wouldn't care.
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He knew he was going to die, eventually. He prayed for it everyday. So he could join his race, his people, his parents and loves. No one would grieve for him, save his children who were universally reviled.
IWhen my coffin is sealed and I'm safely six feet under,
Perhaps my friends will see fit then to judge me.
Oh when they pause to consider all my blunders,
I hope they won't be too quick to begrudge me./I
Would he have a coffin? A coffin of rock and stone, he would die here, in the home he cultivated and held together with his magic, and it would crash down and entomb his body. And they would hate him, not for doing anything, but for looking different, for having his children, for saving their lives.
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He felt a spark of ire. And for an instant, just an instant, he understood what his youngest son felt. And then it was gone. Vorador, the last of his children. He had never been much of Seer, he had been chosen for his compassion. All of his first children were dead and gone, save Vorador. Somehow he knew that Vorador would be the last child he would make, and that he would be the last to die.
IIf I should die before I wake up,
I pray that the Lord my soul will take.
But my body,
My body - that's your job./I
His people didn't worship anything per ce. They held things in reverence, called on the sprits of their ancestors for guidance and wisdom. And they had Faith, his own was so strong, so binding. Faith, Duty, Destiny--that was all he had . But sometimes...He shook his head and dismissed it. He would rot here--He already was after all.
IWell, I can't be sure where I'm headed after death.
To heaven, hell, or beyond to that Great Vast.
But if I could I would like to meet my Maker.
There's one or two things I'd sure like to ask./I
His people believed in a heaven, of a sort. You made it for yourself. Living was hell. He wished there was a God, a true one, just so he could yell at him, her, or it. Demand answers on why he had been left so very alone...
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He had buried all of his friends as they died one by one, their long lives transferred to the pillars and now sustaining the human guardians. A few centuries ago he had went to visit the grave he had placed around the pillars, and to pay respects to them and he had ended up nearly being stoned to death. /The World is dying, inch by inch, I can feel it/. Sighing, Janos Audron continued his journey and resumed his endless vigil.
I do own a Chibi-Janos though! n_n *huggles him*
and this fic, so nah!
No sueing!
oh yeah and, a bit of the religous things going on, talk of Death, and spoilers for SR2.
*Kills FFN's auto HTMLing*
Vigil
II'm still young, but I know my days are numbered;
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven and so on.
But a time will come when these numbers have all ended,
And all I've ever seen will be forgotten./I
He flexed his hands, looking down at them sadly. His eyes focused beyond his hands and into the perfect mirror surface of the ice. He didn't need floors, the halls were large enough to fly though, but the ice and it's perfect reflective surface reminded him of the silver cities of long ago. Now he saw his face, his eyes. He was so old, trapped forever in this body, his eyes knowing the truth, having seen so much--and they don't care. And when he died, it would be lost, and they wouldn't care.
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He knew he was going to die, eventually. He prayed for it everyday. So he could join his race, his people, his parents and loves. No one would grieve for him, save his children who were universally reviled.
IWhen my coffin is sealed and I'm safely six feet under,
Perhaps my friends will see fit then to judge me.
Oh when they pause to consider all my blunders,
I hope they won't be too quick to begrudge me./I
Would he have a coffin? A coffin of rock and stone, he would die here, in the home he cultivated and held together with his magic, and it would crash down and entomb his body. And they would hate him, not for doing anything, but for looking different, for having his children, for saving their lives.
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He felt a spark of ire. And for an instant, just an instant, he understood what his youngest son felt. And then it was gone. Vorador, the last of his children. He had never been much of Seer, he had been chosen for his compassion. All of his first children were dead and gone, save Vorador. Somehow he knew that Vorador would be the last child he would make, and that he would be the last to die.
IIf I should die before I wake up,
I pray that the Lord my soul will take.
But my body,
My body - that's your job./I
His people didn't worship anything per ce. They held things in reverence, called on the sprits of their ancestors for guidance and wisdom. And they had Faith, his own was so strong, so binding. Faith, Duty, Destiny--that was all he had . But sometimes...He shook his head and dismissed it. He would rot here--He already was after all.
IWell, I can't be sure where I'm headed after death.
To heaven, hell, or beyond to that Great Vast.
But if I could I would like to meet my Maker.
There's one or two things I'd sure like to ask./I
His people believed in a heaven, of a sort. You made it for yourself. Living was hell. He wished there was a God, a true one, just so he could yell at him, her, or it. Demand answers on why he had been left so very alone...
IWon't you come to my funeral when my days are done?
Life's not long and so I hope when I am finally dead and gone,
That you'll gather round when I am lowered into the ground./I
He had buried all of his friends as they died one by one, their long lives transferred to the pillars and now sustaining the human guardians. A few centuries ago he had went to visit the grave he had placed around the pillars, and to pay respects to them and he had ended up nearly being stoned to death. /The World is dying, inch by inch, I can feel it/. Sighing, Janos Audron continued his journey and resumed his endless vigil.
