This is a short one. But it's sad. I think I forgot to say it last chapter, but please review.
The funeral took place only a few short days after Integra had died. Her Majesty and the majority of the English nobility were in attendance, discussing Integra's life and accomplishments in somber tones. The few who had actually been close acquaintances would occasionally make their way over to where I stood with the twins, offering their condolences.
John stood at the entrance of the manor, mechanically greeting the last of the arriving guests as though he were an automaton rather than a human being. After the last few attendees filtered into the parlor, the entire party moved outdoors to the Hellsing private cemetery with its awaiting casket and open grave.
A priest said whatever it was that had to be said before several guests stepped forward to give short speeches in her honor. I stood dutifully beside John and the twins, inwardly crying out at the hypocrisy of my attendance, as I had been the one to kill her.
Despite the sober atmosphere of the whole affair, the sky remained stubbornly devoid of clouds, displaying a startling blue that was rare for the city of fog. I mentioned this offhand to John as the company dispersed, a freshly turned plot of dirt the only evidence of the events of the previous hours. He smiled sadly, a distant look in his eyes.
"But isn't it almost the color of her eyes?"