Laying to Rest

That she only need believe there was a soul she carried for it to be true broke some of her resolve. No sound escaped her lips but her whole torso shuddered, her head tilting forward until her chin touched her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks anew. The young woman’s teeth were clenched, eyes squeezed shut as a wave of sorrow momentarily overcame her, the grief she felt reigniting and burning with the strength of thousands of Ludo’s lanterns. They were more than just a squiggly little circle – even if that had been their physical form for the entirety of their earthly existence. What would they have grown to be? A son? A daughter? Would they have looked like her or Emmett? Or a good mix of both? Were they funny or smart or lazy or kind or snobby or nervous or brave? She had nothing to offer Ludo in the way of dreams because her baby had been but a dream – the faintest of lights snuffed out too soon, and its absence felt only in her emptiness. It was the most painful part of this grieving; she had nothing, not even a face, to remember them by. Her memories of their time with her just the barest hints of life she carried. Certainly now only Mort knew what this child would have been and who they were. All she could hope is they would be happy. When the weight of Ludo lifted off of her she too lifted her head, skin red and splotchy and cheeks wet from tears, lips trembling with her effort to hold more back. ”I could never forget.” she whispered without hesitation. She did not need to think to know that. And she would do as Ludo said. There would always be a candle for them. Death alone would keep her from doing so if she had her way. ”How will they know, if they are with Mort?” she asked quietly. Phoebe Be gentle to all and stern with yourself