Black Feather Final
"Shitsurei Shimasu"
Zion Memorial Sector, Nephilon Hill
4:30 p.m., 03/31
"...And here, we gather in the memory of a hero and a heroine, two ephemerae bound by a fated destiny, Mr. Qastor and Miss Iris. It is their deeds along with their comrades' that we are allowed to live once again, free from another Great Destruction. May their souls rest in peace... and their memories not forgotten..."
Deliberately, the gravespeaker closed his book and stepped away from the mourning crowds. Among them was Rose, quietly weeping with a tissue to her eyes, with Egret next to her. Garnet, along with her sisters and Diana, formally stood at the side, their faces melancholy. Markham and Scout stood a few feet away from Rose, staring at the memorystone of the young Raven whom had saved their lives. Legionnaire, Royal Mist, BB, and Kyrie were near Iris' grave, the males not giving in to tears, while Kyrie looked away.
An archaic bell serenely sounded, and the grieving crowds departed, exchanging sorrowful goodbyes to each other and farewells to Qastor and Iris.
One man, who stood at the rear of the recent crowd, his right hand in his pocket, slowly walked up to the couple's graves. It was Malirant.
Arriving late since he didn't want to deal with the emotion, his formal suit was shabby, a formal hat on his hair, which was messy as ever, his shirt hung out from his belt, and his tie not properly done. Malirant was never a man of formality, but he always did what he can.
Smooth, orange clouds smeared across the violet skies. Slipping into slumber, the yawning sun descended into the mountains in the west, while the restless moon awoke from the northeast skies. Whistling in the gentle breeze, the grass was pure and evergreen. Trees rustled, grieving over yet another loss among the hundreds. Shades of purple and orange painted the eastern mountain ranges, the spring glaciers icing the tips and apexes. The grass hissed under his feet as Malirant's trembling footsteps approached the twin graves.
He squatted down, removed his hat, and revealed a new, but small bouquet of lavender and daisies in his left hand, settling it between their graves. He stood up, placing his hands in his pockets again, and gazed into their epitaphs.
His eyes found themselves staring into two trees. There sat a young boy and girl. The young girl held up a delicate finger into the air, watching in charming awe as a monarch butterfly rested upon it.
They both dissipated into the air, fleeting into Malirant's memories. His attention turned down to his lower right and noticed a young boy standing next to him.
"Did Mr. Qastor die, sir?" The boy's voice was quiet.
Malirant replied with a slow, unsure nod, his gaze turning to Qastor's grave. The boy, once looking up at the towering Malirant, lowered his head to the graves. Thoughtfully, the boy reached into his pockets and revealed a ring too large for any of his fingers. Noticing a circular engrave in Qastor's memorystone, he inquired.
"May I, sir?" Malirant looked down and saw the boy holding Qastor's ring. He nodded, and the boy walked up, squatted on his knees, and carefully pushed the ring in the engrave. It mounted in perfectly.
The boy rose up, stepping backward past Malirant, and vanished.
Malirant, after standing there in the calm breeze, began to part his late comrades, motioning his mouth to say...
"Farewell."
"Shitsurei Shimasu"
Zion Memorial Sector, Nephilon Hill
4:30 p.m., 03/31
"...And here, we gather in the memory of a hero and a heroine, two ephemerae bound by a fated destiny, Mr. Qastor and Miss Iris. It is their deeds along with their comrades' that we are allowed to live once again, free from another Great Destruction. May their souls rest in peace... and their memories not forgotten..."
Deliberately, the gravespeaker closed his book and stepped away from the mourning crowds. Among them was Rose, quietly weeping with a tissue to her eyes, with Egret next to her. Garnet, along with her sisters and Diana, formally stood at the side, their faces melancholy. Markham and Scout stood a few feet away from Rose, staring at the memorystone of the young Raven whom had saved their lives. Legionnaire, Royal Mist, BB, and Kyrie were near Iris' grave, the males not giving in to tears, while Kyrie looked away.
An archaic bell serenely sounded, and the grieving crowds departed, exchanging sorrowful goodbyes to each other and farewells to Qastor and Iris.
One man, who stood at the rear of the recent crowd, his right hand in his pocket, slowly walked up to the couple's graves. It was Malirant.
Arriving late since he didn't want to deal with the emotion, his formal suit was shabby, a formal hat on his hair, which was messy as ever, his shirt hung out from his belt, and his tie not properly done. Malirant was never a man of formality, but he always did what he can.
Smooth, orange clouds smeared across the violet skies. Slipping into slumber, the yawning sun descended into the mountains in the west, while the restless moon awoke from the northeast skies. Whistling in the gentle breeze, the grass was pure and evergreen. Trees rustled, grieving over yet another loss among the hundreds. Shades of purple and orange painted the eastern mountain ranges, the spring glaciers icing the tips and apexes. The grass hissed under his feet as Malirant's trembling footsteps approached the twin graves.
He squatted down, removed his hat, and revealed a new, but small bouquet of lavender and daisies in his left hand, settling it between their graves. He stood up, placing his hands in his pockets again, and gazed into their epitaphs.
His eyes found themselves staring into two trees. There sat a young boy and girl. The young girl held up a delicate finger into the air, watching in charming awe as a monarch butterfly rested upon it.
They both dissipated into the air, fleeting into Malirant's memories. His attention turned down to his lower right and noticed a young boy standing next to him.
"Did Mr. Qastor die, sir?" The boy's voice was quiet.
Malirant replied with a slow, unsure nod, his gaze turning to Qastor's grave. The boy, once looking up at the towering Malirant, lowered his head to the graves. Thoughtfully, the boy reached into his pockets and revealed a ring too large for any of his fingers. Noticing a circular engrave in Qastor's memorystone, he inquired.
"May I, sir?" Malirant looked down and saw the boy holding Qastor's ring. He nodded, and the boy walked up, squatted on his knees, and carefully pushed the ring in the engrave. It mounted in perfectly.
The boy rose up, stepping backward past Malirant, and vanished.
Malirant, after standing there in the calm breeze, began to part his late comrades, motioning his mouth to say...
"Farewell."