I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes
At twilight, on that first day after the sun had risen over the region, Ronin finally leaves the Aumakua lighthouse. He still hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, but his work in the time since his meeting with Safrin has been feverish and reverent, his movements sure and swift and unshakeable. Out in the swaying grasses, he approaches the cliffside, not far from where a small white stone - another grave marker - already serves as a resting place for the first of his daughters.
It's at this cliffside, only metres from Aoife's headstone, where he starts to build the pyre for Seren.
By the time his work is done, the stars are beginning to wink to life in the sky overhead, and Ronin hesitates for only a moment before he returns briefly to the lighthouse, to carry his daughter in his arms for the last time. He's wrapped her in a beautiful linen embroidered with the same stars and constellations as the ones that gleam above, settling her with utmost care upon the pyre amid sprays of hibiscus and star jasmine.
Kissing her brow through the linen, only once he's satisfied that she's comfortable - odd as that may seem - does he step back, waiting for whoever else might wish to come and pay their respects.
It's at this cliffside, only metres from Aoife's headstone, where he starts to build the pyre for Seren.
By the time his work is done, the stars are beginning to wink to life in the sky overhead, and Ronin hesitates for only a moment before he returns briefly to the lighthouse, to carry his daughter in his arms for the last time. He's wrapped her in a beautiful linen embroidered with the same stars and constellations as the ones that gleam above, settling her with utmost care upon the pyre amid sprays of hibiscus and star jasmine.
Kissing her brow through the linen, only once he's satisfied that she's comfortable - odd as that may seem - does he step back, waiting for whoever else might wish to come and pay their respects.
RONIN
