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Marcella Bellini ([info]born_greater) wrote in [info]nevermore_logs,
@ 2021-04-09 20:17:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Current mood: numb
Entry tags:marcella bellini, qebhet

WHO Marcella and Qebhet
WHEN Tuesday 6th April, evening
WHERE Qebhet's funeral home
WHAT Preparing Tragos for his journey into the afterlife
WARNINGS crying, dealing with death



Marcie carried the tote bag nervously in her hands as she pushed open the door to Western Funeral Home and stepped inside.

She hadn't had a lot of contact with death in her life. Her dad's brother had died in a motorbike collision when she was very young. She remembered the casket, everyone in black, but she'd never been allowed to look inside. When she was at high school, a teacher had passed away from a heart problem. A lot of girls had sat together and cried loudly and dramatically, even those who only days before had been bitching about him and saying he was useless. Marcie hadn't cried. She'd loathed that teacher, and she wasn't about to start pretending otherwise. And having dealt with death on a more personal level through miscarriage, she'd felt separated from all the others who mourned.

The loss of her pregnancy had been difficult. She hadn't cried much then either, not like she had when her boyfriend had left her. She'd seen it, in the hospital, for a moment as it was being taken away in a kidney dish. It wasn't grown enough to be something, but it wasn't nothing either. And although she had come to resent the being growing inside her as the catalyst to her troubles, she had also started wanting it too.

Like she had wanted Tragos. Like she had started harbouring tiny, unformed dreams, where Tragos didn't have to leave her for days on end, and maybe they ran an auto shop together, and had a funny little dog, and wore matching wedding bands on their fingers. Not something, but not nothing either.

All such thoughts were gone now, scattered like leaves in the wind. Now she was anxious about Kaden, halfway across the country, desperate to not be alone. And Tragos, who could never be touched by loneliness again.

She walked softly up to a reception desk, and looked about. The room had a hushed feel, so when she lightly touched the top of the service bell, the ding it made seemed very loud.


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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-09 10:09 am UTC (link)
Qebhet was lighting the incense when the reception bell sounded.

She wasn't sure whether it was an overstep. Ronan had worshipped Ares in life; perhaps he would prefer a blood libation and a coin on the tongue. But, cast aside by his gods as he was in his dying hour— perhaps he would want nothing of anything divine. (Kaden's words, sharp in her memory: I've seen what people turn into when they make vows to gods. I've seen what gods do to people.)

But if anything of Ronan's soul lingered in the world, he was keeping his opinions to himself, and Kaden (to her increasing worry) was still unreachable, so Qebhet had only her own best judgement to rely upon.

Kapet incense was cleansing, its scent honeyed and a little earthy, chasing away the stain of isfet. It couldn't hurt, surely?

Then the sounding of the bell. Qebhet left the kapet beads to soften and smoulder and hurried to reception to greet Ronan's sole mourner. "Marcie? I'm Qebhet. I am so very sorry for your loss."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-09 10:32 am UTC (link)
"Thank you. You are very kind."

Marcie's voice and posture was reserved, trying to keep in check how anxious about this she was, and how much she was still hurting. She didn't know how she was going to deal with all of this yet.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for your help when I was ill," she said, taking a few steps closer, but not too close. "It means a lot that you would go out of your way for a stranger." Many gods wouldn't do it.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-09 11:17 am UTC (link)
Qebhet didn't know what to say to that. She had been no great help, in truth. Even in the time of the Old Kingdom, she had never had the power to counter a curse like the one that had afflicted Marcie, nor the sway to make Apollo lift it. All she had had to offer was some little pain relief, a minor magic, a long way from the miracle that Marcie had needed. "That... that's quite alright," she said. "I'm glad you've recovered." The words seemed to hang awkwardly in the air, in light of the reason they were meeting. Marcie had survived her brush with a violent god. Ronan had not. "Would you... like me to take you to him? Or do you want to sit for a moment first?"

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-09 11:41 am UTC (link)
Marcie's parents had drilling politeness into her as a child. Always say thank you, Marcella, even if it's Gran giving you another hideous hand-made doll with crooked eyes. Especially then. But it was no hardship to thank Qebhet for her offer, and manners were free, as her dad always said.

"I'd like to go in now," she said, her grip on the tote bag tightening. "I didn't know what to bring. I only have a teeshirt of his to dress him in, so I bought some jeans and socks. They're cotton." The better to burn up, she supposed. She should've asked Kaden what he wanted done. It was a kind of awful text question to send.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-09 01:01 pm UTC (link)
"There is no right or wrong," said Qebhet, her voice gentle. "It's... the act that's important, more than the choice. Clothing a person, it's an act of love." She gestured toward the door behind the reception desk with a light tilt of her head. "It's this way. Nobody else is working tonight, so you'll have privacy."

She led the way along a short corridor. The first few rooms they passed would have fit into any workplace: a couple of offices, a staff break room with a fridge and a slightly threadbare couch. But there was no mistaking room that Qebhet stopped at. Sterile white walls, pale vinyl flooring, bench tops laden with some obscurely medical-looking equipment, and at the centre of the room – a metal embalming table. No mistaking, either, what lay on the table beneath the cover of a white sheet. The scent of sweet incense wafted from one corner of the room.

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-09 01:20 pm UTC (link)
Marcie stopped on the threshold, and had to take a steadying breath. She had been crying to damn much over the last two days, that she was determined to keep herself calm today. She had a job to do, and was going to see it done. Much had offered to come with her even, to hold her hand, but she needed to do this alone.

She hoped he didn't look grotesque. She hoped he wasn't twisted in the horror of his death to become something unrecognisable.

"Is it very bad?" she asked, thinking of the gaping gash in his neck and the blood all down his front and over his legs.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-09 02:05 pm UTC (link)
"You... know how he died?" Qebhet asked carefully. A violent death was never good, but people had different thresholds for bad. "He has a neck wound. Some more wounds on the backs of his legs. Some people... a lot of people can find these things confronting. If you'd rather not see, I can cover his neck. We can do this however you prefer."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-09 02:17 pm UTC (link)
"The backs of his legs?" Marcie hadn't known that. She hadn't seen it when he was lying on his back, crumpled against Melpomene's bookshelf. "I did see how he died, but... there was a lot of blood, I-" She bit her lip. "Please be honest with me. It is difficult, but I'd rather know the truth of everything. I thought, maybe... do you like... glue the skin closed, or something?"

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-09 04:17 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet felt a new stirring of disquiet when Marcie reacted to the leg wounds. She hadn't known. She'd seen the body, but whatever had transpired before Ronan's death... perhaps she had only been given half-answers, too. (They had been fighting, Athena had said, measured, matter-of-fact. She hadn't gone into detail, and Qebhet had assumed, until she'd seen the wounds, that the goddess had meant an altercation of words.)

She didn't like this. She was being used to cover up something – a crime, almost definitely; for certain a sin against ma'at – and that grated against her core. The scales were teetering wildly, and she didn't know how to set them back into balance. Perhaps she couldn't. Perhaps, like Apollo's death curse, it was beyond her power to fix.

But she could give this young woman the honesty she asked for. She could help Marcie to mourn and to guide Ronan to his rest, the way they both deserved. Those things, small as they were, were in her power.

So she nodded to Marcie. "I've sutured the wounds, yes. They're noticeable, but not... nothing like you saw before. There's no blood. Just some stitches, like you might get in a hospital." She spoke with the reassuring tones she reserved for both the newly-bereaved and the newly-deceased, but now, as she drew a breath, a note of apprehension entered her expression. "But... you asked about his legs? Those wounds... I don't know what happened, but he couldn't have done it to himself. Somebody cut his hamstrings before he died."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-09 11:51 pm UTC (link)
"Melpomene," Marcie said softly, without thinking. It must have been her. She had cut his legs out from under him and stopped him being able to escape physically, leaving him only one other path.

Still she lingered, looking at the table. She could feel tears if she let them fall, but she wasn't going to. She had a job to do.

"I think I'm ready now," she said with more confidence than she felt, and stepped forward. She trusted that he wouldn't look all grey and horrific, but she really had no idea. "What do I do?"

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-10 03:07 am UTC (link)
Melpomene... Qebhet had heard that name of late, too. Something Hecate had said, something about... a connection to the shooting. What was it...? One of the boys who killed me was one of her chosen.

Ronan. Tragos, to his gang brothers. Melpomene was the Muse of Tragedy.

Oh, blessed starlight.

Marcie might be able to tell her. She might even know about Kaden, if he was safe, if anybody had told him—

But Qebhet's first duty was to the mourner and the mourned. Now was no time for questions.

"First, we will bathe him with wash cloths," she said. "Warm water with a little soap, then cool water to rinse. There are special oils I use for anointing, if you think it suitable." Her hand hovered over the shroud covering Ronan and she looked to Marcie for assent. "Would you like a moment with him, while I ready everything?"

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-10 04:31 am UTC (link)
Marcie nodded, and held her breath as the shroud was lowered. Seeing his face was- She blinked quickly against tears, and bit the inside of her cheek.

He was pale, very pale, but then she knew he had lost a lot of blood. His face being so still wasn't right either. He was always watching, always thinking, and then that burst of a sweet smile just for her- Carefully, she lifted one hand to rest on his forehead. He didn't feel like he'd felt when she'd seen him newly dead. He was hard and cold and entirely wrong. Someone had done a good job at touching him up, but he was still dead.

But he was still Tragos. She leaned in to press a kiss to his temple, stroking her hand over his hair.

"I'm going to look after you," she murmured, and glanced up at Qebhet. "He believed in Ares until the end. I want to send him off with a blessing."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-10 05:46 am UTC (link)
Qebhet had stepped away from the embalming table, busying herself with preparing the things they would need to give Marcie a little privacy. Her pitcher already sat waiting on a wheeled equipment table, alongside a pile of clean white wash cloths, a couple of large empty bowls and a collection of smaller bottles, the seven sacred oils of anointing. She filled one bowl with warm water, adding to it a mild soap, scented with myrrh. It was a subtle smell, earthy, faintly smoky.

She looked up when Marcie addressed her. "An obol for Charon, perhaps? I have some here." Qebhet had laid to rest people from all manner of cultural traditions in her time. It was rare that an adherent of the Greek gods came into her charge, but she tried to be prepared. "The Greeks use olive oil for anointing; I have that, too. Is that the sort of thing you were thinking...?" She didn't want to push anything onto Marcie or overwhelm her with options.

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-10 07:41 am UTC (link)
"I- I don't really know. I was Christian until I was sixteen. I just want him to be looked after. I don't think it matters, really. These gods cannot touch him now." Marcie was still stroking Tragos' short hair, even though it felt weird being so cold. "Did Athena say anything, like, that she wanted done with him?"

The scents of the soap and the myrrh were comforting. It wasn't sterile and clinical, which she had been a little afraid of.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-10 09:28 am UTC (link)
Qebhet shook her head. "Just that she wanted him treated with care." No... Melpomene, she'd said. Melpomene, the one who had slashed his legs so cruelly he might well have bled out on his own, had wanted him given every care. Skies, what a terrible, twisted affair.

She returned the bowl to the equipment table and wheeled the whole thing over to Marcie. "Why don't we give him the coin and the oil?" she suggested. If Ronan had believed in the Greek afterlife, then he might need his fare for the ferryman. And perhaps Ronan and Marcie both needed the anointing: a final act of care and intimacy from the bereft to the departed. "And... I can add my own blessing, if you like. If you think it's appropriate."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-10 11:31 am UTC (link)
Marcie nodded, accepting the offer. Following Qebhet's lead, she took a soft cloth and soaked it in the water. The noise of the water trickling out was kind of soothing too. Qebhet was well practiced at this.

As she began to run the damp cloth over Tragos' skin, she let the silence hang for a while, absorbed in the work. Sometimes she would murmur an apology if a drip of water went in his ear, or she needed to lift his arm a little. It was a little hypnotic, how absorbed in the process she got.

"I have a friend," she said softly after a while, "his younger brother, Kaden. He asked me once if I thought you were trustworthy." She lifted her gaze to look at Qebhet. "I told him, as much as any god is trustworthy, but to take kindness where it was offered." She worked the cloth around Tragos' fingers, working the last traces of blood from around his fingernails. "He said he was trying to work out what was kindness and what was a trap."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-10 12:07 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet ran her own cloth along Ronan's calves in slow, fluid movements, glancing up every so often to make sure that Marcie was still doing okay. The soapy water gradually took on a tinge of rust as they both worked to wash clean the stain of Ronan's death from his body. She was squeezing out her cloth over the bowl when Marcie spoke unexpectedly, and the mention of Kaden's name caused her gaze to snap up.

Marcie did know Kaden. And yet... she'd come alone. She'd said Ronan had nobody but her. What did that mean? (Maybe Ronan had been the one to put the gun in Kaden's hand. It could be as simple as that.)

"I've been trying to reach him," Qebhet said. She spoke softly, matching Marcie's volume, but the thread of worry in her voice was clearly audible. "I wasn't sure if... does he know about Ronan? Is he alright?"

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-10 12:44 pm UTC (link)
Marcie dropped her gaze, focusing on her work so she wouldn't have to look into Qebhet's concerned eyes and have that kindness bring her to tears. "He knows," she said. "I told him."

The second question, though. She bit her lips together, the cloth going still. "This whole thing is a fucking mess," she said, and her gazed moved up to Tragos' face. She wished she could make him explain just what the fuck he was thinking in going along with this plan. "They were going to leave town together to escape the negative influence of some gods. They decided that they also needed to liberate Ares' son from his mother's arms in the process." Her tone turned bitter and snarky. "Apparently being the son of gods is a bad thing. They wanted to give little Telos the chance to choose his own destiny. Tragos died covering Kaden's escape. I don't know what happened between him and Melpomene, in the end."

She carried her cloth to a bowl to rinse it quite aggressively. "Now Kaden thinks he has to see it through and he won't come back, and Ares is after him. Do you hear that?" She turned to look at Tragos' vacant face. "Cy is already dead because of you, and Kaden is going the same way. Is this what you wanted?" She had such a hurt mix of emotion that she wanted to scream it from the rooftops, but instead she dropped the cloth and turned away to find the tote bag with the clothes in, just for something to do to get herself under control again.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-10 01:56 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet's expression was frozen, her eyes widening in horror as the whole story spilled out. She'd hoped his phone had been dead. She'd hoped he had blocked her number. She'd worried he was hurt, or in danger, or worse.

This was worse. This was so much worse.

It was only when Marcie turned away that she realised she had been twisting the wash cloth tight in her hands, the grimy water trickling down her wrist to soak her sleeve. She set the cloth down and drew a long breath. "He... told me he's seen people twisted by gods. His brothers... Ares makes men into killers, and a son of Ares..." She was speaking half to herself, thinking out loud as she tried to process it.

Ares had made Kaden's brothers into killers. And one of the brothers, in turn, had tried to make a killer of Kaden. Ronan had saved him from that – she was sure now it was him who had fired the gun – and they had both tried to save the baby from the future they knew he was bound for.

Stars above. And now both brothers were dead and Kaden was alone and afraid with a newborn baby and a war god on his heels. Qebhet dearly wished she had given him more than a meagre luck token.

"I don't have power," she said. "Not like Ares. I don't know if I can protect him. But I'll try. I promise I'll try."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-10 02:18 pm UTC (link)
Marcie looked up at Qebhet, catching her tongue on a sarcastic, good luck with that. "Nobody short of Aphrodite can talk Ares down when he's in a rage, and he is in a rage," she muttered. "If you can make him listen to reason and bring the baby back, that'd do more good."

She stood up again, bringing the bag with her, going back to the man she loved most. She looked down at him for a long moment, angry and sad, and touched his lips with her fingertips. "He wanted away from Ares too. He wanted choices. Ares doesn't give anybody a choice." She was telling this virtual stranger too much, but she had to get it all out, to expel it before she said her final goodbyes.

Oh, gods...

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-11 06:55 am UTC (link)
Choices, Qebhet thought heavily. Yes. It all came down to choice.

Kaden had seen his options narrowing the more gods encroached on his world: the influence of Ares seeping like a bloody stain through his family, the rage of Apollo laying wreck to Marcie's body. Even Qebhet herself had unthinkingly crossed boundaries. How much more trapped must Ronan have been, caught between an all-consuming war god and a goddess hungry for his worship?

He must have been terribly afraid, making that break from both god and gang brothers, knowing he would be hunted for it.

He must have been terribly brave.

Qebhet watched Marcie brush her fingers over the lips of the man she had loved. Watched Ronan, a boy who bore far too many scars for his nineteen years. "He fought a long time, didn't he? To give Kaden choices, the ones he wasn't given." He'd killed for it. He'd died for it. "He deserved to have choices for himself, too."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-11 12:45 pm UTC (link)
"He loved Kaden more than anyone." Even herself, if Marcie was honest- but in a different way. And it was the way it should've been. She didn't resent that at all. "Even though the age gap was quite big, they were really close growing up. I just..."

She wished she could save Kaden, be a replacement sibling to him now that he was on his own, and try to cover the gaping hole in her heart with a purpose. She addressed her next works more to Tragos than Qebhet, standing over him as she was. "I want to be there for him. I wish I could bring him home. And I'm so angry at you for doing this! Why didn't you ask me about it?!"

But she knew why, really. Because she would've said no.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-11 02:26 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet's heart ached for Marcie, for Kaden; for Ronan, wherever his spirit now resided. "Not such a large gap," she said. Four years could seem like a gulf at their age, but the distance between Ronan and Kaden wasn't one of years. It was a finger curled around the trigger of a gun. It was fists stained with another man's blood. Qebhet wondered how old Ronan had been when he had first started running with the War Dogs. "He had to grow up fast. Nobody gave him the chance to be a teenager, the way he gave Kaden."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-12 01:36 am UTC (link)
Marcie nodded, and sighed, closing her eyes a moment.

"I'm sorry, did you say teenager?" she asked, looking up at Qebhet. "How do you mean?" She curled her hand around Tragos' arm and gently stroked it. It was rough, growing up the way he had, but how Qebhet would know what he was like as a teen, when wasn't sure.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-12 05:10 am UTC (link)
Confusion shaded Marcie's expression like a passing cloud, and Qebhet hesitated. Had she misspoken? "Well... I know nineteen is technically an adult, but— I mean, it's still— it's young."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-12 08:25 am UTC (link)
She had to take a moment, looking at Qebhet in silence. "...Nineteen," she said upon taking another breath. Pressing her lips together, she looked upwards, not knowing what to say to that.

Yet another question she wouldn't be able to ask him the answer to.

"I think we should... carry on," she said, because she didn't know what else to do.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-12 10:58 am UTC (link)
There was a brittle quality to the silence. A tightening in Marcie's lips, as though she was absorbing a blow. Nineteen. Had she— surely she must have—

But her confusion, when Qebhet had called him a teenager.

No, she hadn't known. She hadn't realised he was so young.

Marcie turned quickly from the subject, and Qebhet obliged her. It was the work of a few minutes to finish washing Ronan's body. When they were done, Qebhet carried the spent cloths and bowl to the sink, before returning to remaining items on the equipment table. "Now we rinse him clean, and now I bless him."

She took up her clay pitcher and she poured water into the remaining bowl, and she spoke the ritual words in a voice as soft and flowing as her movements. She spoke in English – less weighty, and less precise than her native tongue, but it was Ronan's tongue and it was Marcie's, and these words were for them. When the bowl was filled, she set the pitcher to one side, and one by one she added a single drop from each of the small bottles – the seven sacred oils.

"On this day is your mouth opened.
Horus pours water upon your fingers;
Geb hands over to you what is in him.
Your face is washed by your father Nun,
Your face is wiped dry by Hedjhotep.
Ptah turns towards you with clothing, as he did for Re.
Your mouth is opened with good utterances.
The good is remembered for you
And forgotten is evil on the blessed day.
No ill which you have done will be reproached.
No evil shall attach to your limbs.
Re purifies you at his coming forth, Thoth at his shining forth,
When this utterance is told to you which Isis spoke to her son Horus:
You are purified, Ronan Murphy. You are protected."

Qebhet exhaled a slow breath, let the blessing settle into the water, a barely perceptible ripple across the surface.

She reached for a clean cloth and offered it to Marcie.

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-12 11:58 am UTC (link)
Silently, Marcie took it and dipped it in the water, and carefully began the job of running it over Tragos' form, over his face, his neck, his arms that were so strong, his body so right against hers. Qebhet's prayer moved her, and as she worked, she repeated the last words softly to herself.

"You are purified, Trey. You are protected." A few silent tears fell, dripping on his skin as she leaned across him, realising at last that this was her final time with him. She would never see this face in the flesh again after tonight. "You are loved," she added, for the teenager who had never been loved enough, the man who had loved her and his little brother so deeply. Not so large an age gap, then.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-12 03:19 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet helped a little, lifting Ronan's limbs to let Marcie sweep the cloth over the harder-to-reach places, but mostly she stood back and let Marcie work. This was her time for farewells, the last time she would ever run her hands along his arms, his chest, his face; the last time she would ever look him in the face. Qebhet could see that truth dawning on Marcie now, and she tried to intrude as little as possible.

A damp sheen clung to Ronan's cold skin, along with the subtle scent of myrrh and honey and spice. Once Marcie was done bathing him, Qebhet handed her a fresh cloth for drying. The second bowl and used cloths joined the others in the sink, while the oils and pitcher were returned to their proper places. That also gave Qebhet the chance to retrieve the obol – a wafer-thin gold facsimile of real ancient currency – and the olive oil, of which she poured a small amount into an inch-wide dish.

Both of these things she set down on the equipment table, before looking to Marcie again. "Are you ready to dress him?"

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-14 02:22 pm UTC (link)
"Yes." She lifted the bag of clothes she'd brought with her, the trousers and teeshirt she'd ended up buying for him. The tee was a copy of a tee of his she'd been going to bring, that he'd left with her because it had car grease across it and she had been going to try and get it cleaned. But when she'd picked it up, she found it still smelled of him, and she couldn't bear to part with it. So she'd found one the same in a shop to represent it.

Getting clothes on a cold corpse was difficult. Marcie struggled, even following Qebhet's instruction as best she could.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-16 10:34 am UTC (link)
A lot of people found the dressing of the body unnerving. If one could almost fool oneself into imagining their loved one asleep with the body laid out still and motionless, all illusion vanished when it came time to handle the floppy, uncooperative limbs and work clothing over the clammy skin. It was awkward, undignified work, but Marcie helped without complaint and where she fumbled, Qebhet's hands were steady and experienced. Between them, they managed.

"There are two more things," Qebhet said when they were done. "and I thought perhaps you might wish to do them. First is the coin for the ferryman." She indicated the thin gold obol. "The Greeks placed it in the mouth, for safe passage to the afterlife. Then the anointing – a dab of oil on the forehead, eyelids and lips."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-16 02:04 pm UTC (link)
Tragos' jaw was fairly firmly closed. Marcie had to pull his lips apart enough to slip the coin in like it was a moneybox. And then, the dabs of oil as Qebhet said, and... they were done.

She looked at him, and then up at Qebhet. "You are a goddess of death, yes? You tend to souls awaiting judgement? Can I ask... do you see his? Do you see where it went?" She didn't know what answer she wanted, which scared her more. She just needed to know.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-17 03:30 am UTC (link)
Qebhet bit her lip. She'd seen no trace of Ronan's akh, though she'd looked for it when she'd gone to collect the body, and again when she'd tended to his open wounds, after she'd learned who he was. "I don't know where he is," she said apologetically. "Not every soul lingers after death. It depends on... belief, mainly."

If Ronan hadn't believed in shades, he probably wouldn't have become one. There were rare exceptions – the convictions of the bereaved, if they were especially strong, could be enough to tether even an unbelieving soul to the world – but that was usually how it worked.

If he had believed in the Greek afterlife, he might have descended at once to Hades and the banks of the Acheron. Or he might have fought the inexorable pull of death – the belief in spirits with unfinished business was fairly widespread. Perhaps he was following Kaden's journey even now, a watchful presence, unable to help, unwilling to leave.

But she didn't want to burden Marcie with that kind of speculation. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-17 08:02 am UTC (link)
Marcie closed her eyes with a soft sigh, and looked away.

"I want him cremated," she said. "If he is no longer for this world, there is no point in keeping him here."

She felt so sad, though, knowing this was it. Kaden would never have a chance to say his goodbyes in person. But then, neither would Melpomene, and she did not want that snake to have another chance to try to own him, even if it was just to bury him. It was Marcie's call to do what she thought Tragos would want, and he wouldn't want to be lingering when his job was done.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-17 12:35 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet nodded. "I'll arrange it," she promised. "Is there... anything else I can do? For him, or for you?"

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[info]born_greater
2021-04-17 12:45 pm UTC (link)
"I would like to sit for a while, please." Marcie blinked, her lashes damp with tears. "I just need a little longer." This room was so sterile, but it was what she had. Qebhet had been so kind to do all of this. She just couldn't quite let go yet.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-17 12:56 pm UTC (link)
"Of course," Qebhet said, understanding. Once Marcie left this room, she would never see Ronan again, and she knew it. "There's a kitchen down the passage to the left, we passed it on the way here. Why don't I wait there for you? You can take as long as you need, nobody needs this room today."

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