Never Dry Again
It seemed as if the wind knew of the permeating sadness today, as its breath lay dormant in the lungs of some distant land. Not even the flag at half-mast moved an inch. Everything was completely, and utterly still in the somewhat deserted site. Not an animal made a noise, nor a move. Likewise for the human beings too. The lack of wind just made the day seem to drag on, standing still with the silent air. Loyalty hung though, on the stagnant wisps of faded breeze. The small collected group was standing united, but destroyed. Their lives were building up to this, they knew. But no one had actually wanted to see the day their nightmares would come true, as nobody really does.
The lack of fresh air stung at everybody's throat, and let the tears flow freely without drying. A steady stream falling down each and every single cheek present. Present amongst the ghastly rows of memories faded, and earthed anew. With each varying difference, one solitary similarity struck at the heart. Death. Along with the sense of loyalty, death grasped at the air around them. A note of finality ringing in the silence, and would always even if the wind graced them on such a solemn day.
With the last pat of the shovel, a stone was immediately coming into view of mist covered eyes as the workers departed, no longer effected so much by the tears of others. One by one a rose was placed atop the newly filled grave, tears falling to the earth with little grace left. A total of thirteen stark white roses lay in disarray near the stone, in no order due to lack of vision. Despite the tears, not a sob could be uttered, as there was hardly breath drawn; in anger or sadness likewise.
He was gone, and that was the common place thought. The finality of it all was so striking, even more so than Maes' death. It was enough to shatter each of their hearts to hopeless bits. They were standing in a line again, paying their respects, not wanting to break the little comfort they had left, each other. But comfort was not taken in all hearts, as they were lead to believe they could trust him, support him, and be lead to a brighter future. But the sky was overcast, dark looming clouds rumbling deep with protest. The future looked the same, hopeless to fight the ever growing storm, and there was nothing to be done but lead a dull life at best.
As tears slowly halted, and as breath became harder to take in, the engraved words on the stone slowly came into view. It wasn't fair, to be so close to the end that you can taste it. But close isn't enough as most had learned. And also life was hardly fair... but to bring upon disaster, after devastation, after hardship. It was as if life was constructed just to build up people and break them into nothingness. A bit of fertilizer for flowers at best. Every heart twinged with guilt, that they could not help their leader in his time of need. They didn't recognize the signs, the tell-tale omens. It was their own stupidity culminating into ignorance that lead them here today, besides the life that used to be their guiding force.
He had been ill, physically, and mentally even. Stress was a factor that just edged him towards the dark path that was a one-way ticket to wherever one had chose to believe in. It was almost unheard of, for someone so young as he, to be stricken by the silent killer that is a heart attack. With someone as calloused as he, it was almost a fitting death, if looked at so morbidly. As his heart became darkened with grief over Maes, it became less of a heart, and more of a device used to live. Care was no longer taken over the feelings of others, though most would protest that he never cared at any point in time. But he did, and did was a past event. What they didn't know would hurt them, as he took his thoughts and feelings literally to the grave. He had actually loved each and every one of them. And with his heart growing so distant, they never would have known. His heart was not used so much, and needed a jolt to reawaken itself, if he chose so. It was apparent of what his choice was as the muted light barely made its way to grace the surface of the placid gray headstone.
With one last final tear falling to the evened mound, an uneven salute was given. One by one right hand stiffened enough to bring to the forehead, and then back down sadly to its owner's side. And with the breath being stolen from their lungs as they exhaled, it was as if a small breeze had been woken. But it was not enough to sway the wet tracks on cheeks to dry, as tears would never cease to fallfor Roy Mustang.