Bastien
I will not say: do not weep;
for not all tears are an evil.
Bastien felt numb as he watched everyone else go to speak to Rexanna. Deimos, ever stoic, appeared to be silent from the outside; sometimes he wished he could have that kind of quiet dignity, something that his tendency for the dramatics rarely allowed him. Kiada and Hotaru both spoke and he purposefully did not listen; as well as a respect for their privacy he knew hearing it would likely start the flood of tears again.
Finally Hotaru stepped back, and so it was time. Bastien took some steps away: as much as he wanted to stand right by the pyre until the heat became too much, he knew as an Ascended it would be foolish to do so. Looking over to Deimos to catch his eye, he nodded just once: go ahead.
As soon as the pyre was up in flames, he focused only on the rising smoke; to look at what was burning would be too much. His lips moved silently as he thought of old prayers and rites from Italy, none of which could balm the wounds of this moment but they could at least provide some kind of ceremony to it all; as if it were important, as if it mattered.
Finally Hotaru stepped back, and so it was time. Bastien took some steps away: as much as he wanted to stand right by the pyre until the heat became too much, he knew as an Ascended it would be foolish to do so. Looking over to Deimos to catch his eye, he nodded just once: go ahead.
As soon as the pyre was up in flames, he focused only on the rising smoke; to look at what was burning would be too much. His lips moved silently as he thought of old prayers and rites from Italy, none of which could balm the wounds of this moment but they could at least provide some kind of ceremony to it all; as if it were important, as if it mattered.
