Thomas Raith [Dresden Files] (vanity_thy_name) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-04-28 12:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, thomas raith |
WHO: Thomas Raith, & npc!Milo Thurman
WHAT: A meeting of past and present
WHEN: Sunday 4/28, early in the day
WHERE: Neena's Funeral
WARNINGS: Brief mention of presumed character death
The funeral was pretty low key. Neena didn’t plan for a bunch of people to show up, she’d spent more of her time detailing her ridiculous burial procedures, and not a lot of time actually allocating her belongings. The room was small, a little too small for the number of people there.
So one man was hanging out in the hallway, watching everything with a neutral expression. He was an older man, with very dark skin, his hair liberally salted with grey. He looked like a man who’d lived a hard life. He had a small bouquet of dark purple flowers, and was one of the few people in a suit. He toyed idly with a wedding ring, putting it on, taking it off, over and over again.
The news had hit Thomas pretty hard. Harder than he might have expected. He’d tried to clean himself up for the funeral, but under the supermodel exterior he was still riding a rollercoaster of emotions from grief to anger. Part of him wanted to find out who was responsible for the fire and hunt them down. Another part wanted to shut himself up in his brother’s apartment and never come out, and still another said he ought to throw himself into work as a distraction.
He stepped out of the room where the funeral was being held, feeling a little too closed-in for the emotions he was trying to contain, and was heading for some fresh air when he saw the man fiddling with a wedding ring. The action looked how Thomas felt, in spite of the fact that he and Neena had not placed any sort of label on their relationship. In fact, it looked more intimate, but Thomas could only think of one person Neena had ever mentioned who’d be wearing a wedding ring, and he was supposed to be dead.
Milo watched Thomas for a minute. He could easily be one of Neena’s siblings. Dark hair, strong features, a confident stride. He wondered if she’d made up with her family, but the small room for her funeral said she wasn’t planning on having a bunch of adults with families show up. He moved toward Thomas, slipping the ring into his pocket. “Excuse me, can you do me a favor, son?” He had a deep, commanding voice, but it was raw at the moment. He hadn’t realized how hard this would hit him, especially after so many years.
But how could he forget the woman he’d been married to for over ten years?
“Yes, sir?” Thomas didn’t often dole out honorifics, but something in the man’s voice made you want to respect him. Something in the grief that Thomas could hear in it made him want to help. Helping was good. It stopped him from wanting to eat people. “I’ll do my best.”
Milo held out the flowers. "I won't be able to go to her," he paused, his voice catching on the word, "grave. These are too late, but I want to make sure she gets them." His expression was fluctuating between neutrality and grief. This was harder than he thought it would be. "I'm glad she made up with some of her family. Which one are you?"
“Of course,” Thomas said, taking the flowers and clasping the man’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. He wasn’t sure how well he’d hold up, facing Neena’s grave himself, but he would make sure to carry out the request. His expression flickered with curiosity at the assumption that he was related to Neena. Now that he thought of it, he supposed Neena could have passed for one of his stepsisters. “No relation,” he said, “Neena and I were...just getting to know each other, really. My name is Thomas.”
Milo nodded, holding his hand out to shake Thomas's hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Thomas." He eyed the younger man, sizing him up. "I'm Milo. Neena and I were close, once upon a time." It felt like a million years ago. He wondered what would be different in his life if his cover had been the truth. Would he be burying her now? It was a terrible thing to wonder.
Milo. Alive, and in the flesh. Thomas schooled his expression so that hopefully only the empathy showed, rather than the shock. He supposed it didn’t matter now, that he’d been sleeping with the man’s wife, since they were both here to say their goodbyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as he clasped the man’s hand. And that was the truth. Neena had spoken well of the man, if this was indeed the same man. “She was a beautiful woman--inside and out.”
“I’m glad she found someone else who could appreciate her.” Milo had given up his claim to her long ago, and he knew it. He only had himself to blame. “She still talked about me, then?” He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Should he be happy she’d told someone who she apparently barely knew about him? It was all so strange. He’d never faked his own death before.
“She did,” Thomas replied with a sad smile. Milo was the last person he would have expected to be sharing his grief over her death, but he supposed stranger things had happened. He couldn’t think of any at the moment, but the way life was going? He shouldn’t be surprised. “Just in passing, but she had only good things to say.”
Milo nodded. “Thank you. That’s good to know.” He took a deep breath. “It was nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m sorry for your loss, as well. She was one hell of a woman.” He smiled, for the first time, remembering the early days, when things were easier, and they were happy together. Then she burned to death in a fire. Hell of a way to go. His smile faded. “I should go, let the people that knew her have their time.”
“She certainly was.” Thomas smiled a bittersweet smile in response, shaking his head as he remembered yet again that Neena wasn’t here to pass along the compliments to. “I wish I’d had more time.” He sighed. “I’ll see that the flowers are delivered. And...take care.”
He wanted to ask more, wanted to ask why Neena thought her husband was dead, but he didn’t think it was his place.
Milo nodded. “You too.” He picked his hat up off the rack by the door, looking out at the sunny day. “Should be raining.” He noted, to no one in particular, before stepping outside. He wondered where Dante was, at least he should get his old dog back.