Emillion Mods (emillionmods) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-08-26 08:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !plot: as i lay dying |
To everything there is a season...
What: Without a funeral.
Where: Grenoble; Outlands.
When: Recently.
Rating: PG.
It was a pity Grenoble didn't have a priest, the gravedigger thought. Such a tiny farming village could barely muster the gil for a paling to fend of monsters, let alone afford to build a proper church. A handful of families comprised the settlement, and they were a hardy few, choosing a difficult life outside the city gates, where free-living living met with equal amounts of risk. Travelers, merchants, Rangers, each would come and go, doing business from time to time but never having cause to stay very long. And so without a proper funeral, the young man was buried on a quiet summer afternoon, by a gravedigger who could scarcely remember the old prayers taught to him in his youth. By Ajora, it was a shame. The boy had barely seen his eighteenth year, and although he was scrawny in comparison to the other villagers his age, he had always been healthy. Working on his father's farm had given him a deep, rich tan but the last had seen him pale and drawn and barely a shade of his former self. The illness came quick, claiming his life before anyone could try to send for a healer. The gravedigger knew the family personally. It wasn't difficult in such a close-knit community, but it made work like this more painful. "Need help?" The gravedigger set aside his shovel and turned around. Willem, a young man working at one of the other farms, was leaning on the fence by the road and watching him toil away in the harsh sun. He'd only been around a few weeks, trying to earn a wage that would take him to the next village over, but everyone in Grenoble knew Willem well. Word was fast to spread, and they all agreed that Willem was a good young man, by whatever fate that lead him here. Eddard Farborn didn't have any sons and he needed all the help he could muster tending to his plot of land; a strong young wanderer like Willem had never posed a problem. He was polite, religious, didn't have a qualm with bunking in the stables--his presence in Grenoble was seen as nothing less than a blessing. The gravedigger wiped his brow of sweat and smiled. "Aye, you've got the time for it?" He asked. Willem offered a humble smile. "Aside from prayer, it's the least I can offer." |