It's quiet when Vox Machina brings Percival back to Whitestone.
One by one, they pass through the portal Keyleth had opened; Grog cradles Percy like a parent would a sleeping child, making sure he's not jostled too much, even though he knows it doesn't matter anymore. Their friend, his friend is gone and the only thing the giant can do now is carry their group's gunslinger back to his home.
There are no people on the streets for now, a blessing and a curse all the same. They can grieve on their own before they arrive at Whitestone Castle, battered and charred and fallen yet still standing despite all odds, just like Percy should have. The castle's walls aren't the same white as they have been just a few days ago, their shade matches Percy's hair, covered in soot and smoke: grey, not white like he remembers. It shouldn't be this way, he has to ask someone to fix this. At least this... this can be fixed.
People are gathering at the top of the stairway, already suspecting the wrongness but not knowing yet the extent of it. Then Grog sees Cassandra sink to her knees and the little (for him) weight of Percival's body grows tenfold suddenly yet unsurprisingly in some way.
He walks up the stairs, with feet of made of lead and each step a mile long. But he will walk those stairs with his head up high, with spring to his step, because he's bringing his friend home for the last time and this is how his friend would have walked those steps.
It's quiet when Yennen enters the room where Percival's body lies on the stone, both cold to touch.
She had been there when Percival was born. She will also be the one to send him off to his resting place with the very same things she had welcomed him into this world: warm water and clean cloth. With precision known only to those who have suffered loss too many times, Yennen washes her lord (oh, how she wishes he had joined his sister in ruling Whitestone once everything was over!). She cleans his hair with water and soap, washes the grime and blood and black powder off his body, for once not caring how many supplies were being used. This process, this ritual is the last thing she can offer him.
It was not supposed to end this way. She was not supposed to be preparing him for his funeral, after all she was the one whose age has started to get to her. The only three reasons for her to cling to her life as long as she has to this day were Cassandra, Percival and the survival of Whitestone and she was sure, so sure that once her mission had ended, she would be able to finally go to rest. And yet here she is, stroking the hair of the bright boy turned man too quickly, wishing the Dawnfather would grant a miracle and spare all of them from this grief and misery.
But the Dawnfather does not answer her prayers.
It's quiet when Cass brings clothes to clothe her only brother.
She used to make fun of some of his wardrobe choices, such as wearing more layers than often necessary, but then again it was one of the things that made Percy Percy.
"I see you've brought everything", says Keeper Yennen, having finished setting her brother's body.
"Only the best for him", she replies, her voice loud despite being only a whisper.
Cass clothes her brother alone, only asking for help when she's not able to move him enough with her injured hand. She takes her time putting layer after layer of luxurious fabric, covering many of his scars; she touches gently each and every one taken in her place before buttoning up the undershirt, the slacks, the undercoat, the small yet fancy ascot he favoured. She brings his scarred hand to her face for the last time and kisses it, then clothes his hands in the only untouched by gunpowder pair of gloves.
Her brother is ready now. She isn't.
She's all alone again.
It's quiet when Pike clutches the holy symbol in her hand, looking at the sarcophagus Allura and Gilmore had helped carve.
Percival will be put to rest in the de Rolo crypt, alone as there were no remains of his parents and siblings to be buried in first place. She didn't do enough, couldn't do enough to prevent him from leaving them all.
The only thing she could do was blessing the body of the only human in their small family so it would remain intact for as long as she lives.
She wishes she could have done more.
It's not so quiet when Keyleth is approached by the youngest, the last de Rolo.
"Please", Cassandra's voice is raw in her ears, hurting all over again. "Let's show him the beauty of Whitestone one more time".
She can not refuse this request. This is her friend's funeral, a funeral of one of her own, she will make damn sure that he's being taken to his resting place with honours. So she spends the day covering the city with vines and flowers as bright as fresh snow, as whitestone itself; their petals fall to the ground like tears from her eyes but she couldn't care less, she makes the city for which they have fought bloom and sing of life of their beloved companion.
The last flower she brings to life - a white rose she pours all of her love in - is placed in the still hands of Percival.
It's not quiet when Trinket howls, looking for his mother's mate.
He knows loss, he's known it since he was only a cub, but he thought if anyone were to come back every time, it would be the Smoke Man, the Kind Man, Mother's Mate who was always talking to him and making sure he got treats. There are no more powdery scratches nor calm explanations of things around them. The familiar scent is already fading, it lingers still on his mother and her friends but not for very long.
His mother is devastated, he can feel and smell it, but he can't do anything to soothe her pain even a bit. He howls, helpless, for he is only a bear and he cannot offer anything but his cries to mother Nature to treat his mother and her friends with kindness and welcome the Kind Man into her paws.
It's getting quiet when Vax finishes setting the candles up.
The crypt is filled with various things such as flowers and letters, but the candles are the most common, bringing light and warmth where there are none of those. While his chamber - more like his workshop, but no one was surprised - was lit by his own inventions, Vax thinks Freddie would have liked the ambience... He is absolutely sure of it, the gunslinger was a romantic at heart after all.
He hopes the Matron is gentle with his friend's soul.
It's almost quiet when Scanlan arrives at Percival's resting place.
He can't stop shaking at the lack of his friend's voice, so he starts humming everything and anything he knows Percy liked to keep himself from falling apart. His voice shakes like the leaves on the Sun Tree, but it's not important. Sadness and guilt mix with his tears. He missed both his daughter and companion by a moment and it cost him everything.
Scanlan leaves the song for his daughter at Percival's grave, knowing his friend would have understood his reasons for not being there when... When.
After all, family was the most important thing to Percy.
Vex'ahlia kneels in front of the closed sarcophagus.
It's done.
She cries until she loses her voice, until her body cannot physically produce more tears. The arrowhead in her palm threatens to cut through skin, but she doesn't care, she holds it even closer to her chest. Out of the many things Percival had gifted her with, this one is the most precious, because it's with this gift that she realised her heart belonged to him, only to him, yet she closed it. Now she is paying the price.
The words she wishes she had said never leave her throat, even though she wants them to do so. It's pointless, now that he left her, he will never know how much she loved, no, loves him and may the gods have mercy on her blasted soul.
"How will I live without you?", she whispers, pressing her forehead against the stone.
The tomb remains silent.