what should've been you

the sun inside of her rages like wildfire
and she is gold, gold, gold

It was somber, and perhaps the first time the young golden attuned wore the eclipsing color – black flecked with edges of gold as she trails along toward the funeral for their sister with Vesper and Nova, keeping close to them in quiet companionability, a shared sorrow. Vesper’s hand is warm where it settles on her shoulder, her arm wound around her brother’s middle and her sister’s in turn, keeping the three of them close as she watches the proceedings.

She doesn’t have anything to offer Seren, not having really known her, but the loss of family was one felt immensely – especially when Safrin arrives and her amber gaze softens and there’s nothing but love and sorrow that glimmers toward their mother, wanting to run to her and hug her, but knowing there’s a time and place. So she remains at Vesper and Nova’s sides, watching silently and waiting.

Calypso

and she is scorching the skin of my heart

There's no night without stars

She's vowed never to wear black, the color too macabre and depressing - but Nova makes an exception this time. The heavy material of the dress is a velvety black with bits of speckled gems scattered throughout, making it look like a curtain of the night sky has been draped over her. Even her hair has forgone the signature stripe of color, only the moon hairpin keeping the golden strands from her somber eyes.

It's strange to mourn a sister never met. Nova feels a delicacy to life that she hasn't known before, a deep appreciation for the siblings at her side. She can't seem to feel the same level of sorrow as everyone gathered. No tears brim her eyes, no offering fills her hands. All she brings is a silent mourning for what could have been, and what she hopes to never experience. She clutches as Vesper's hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly as she stands in solidarity with those present.

~ Nova ~

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Aware, only tangentially, of those who arrive to pay their respects, Ronin offers stiff nods of greeting to people who seek out his attention, and eyes anyone beyond immediate family with quiet fury if they get too close to his daughter. Remi's warmth is a necessary presence against his side, the Knight reaching out to clasp his hand in tight, cold fingers, not daring to look at his husband for fear that his already crumbling resolve will fail him completely.

Inhaling a shaky breath to see Seren's cowl illuminate with light as delicate as the stars beginning to peek out overhead, he does turn to look towards Safrin, and she'll find no resistance in him as she takes his other hand. The power that floods through him is as familiar as it is foreign now, the light rippling from his form both warm and cool with radiance and starlight. He isn't ready, he wants to say. He's never going to be ready for this; not last time and certainly not now.

But with a feathering of his jaw and a hard swallow, the firebolts he conjures around the pyre appear, imbued with Safrin's power to beam as bright as any star.

"Goodnight, Seren," he whispers, before letting the power go, and watching as they ignite the pyre and a piece of him begins to burn.

~FIN

RONIN