Bastien
I will not say: do not weep;
for not all tears are an evil.
Bastien had carried Rexanna many times.
From their wedding to their bedroom, up their stairs laughing and joking, when she had come home injured; and now, when she was limp and cold in his arms, her body covered in a dark blanket that shrouded her face from all but Bastien, who was doing his best to look down and memorise her face between steps out into the wilderness.
A private, small cremation. They would have a funeral later with all the pomp and circumstance she deserved, but right now it was just family. Deimos had helped to protect her body, had been a brother and friend to her long before Bastien had ever met his wife; Hotaru was her sister and Kiada her daughter...Bastien had not been able to look her in the eyes when he'd seen her. Any chance to rekindle the relationship with her mother gone and he had failed to prevent it.
A pyre would be built from branches and sticks they carried in a small wagon and she would be turned to ash: her body protected from any ill will or desecration. She would be protected by those closest to her in death, just as she was loved: Bastien held her a little tighter, blinking back tears in his eyes as the early morning glow of sun just began to peek over the horizons, mostly blocked by fittingly heavy clouds.
From their wedding to their bedroom, up their stairs laughing and joking, when she had come home injured; and now, when she was limp and cold in his arms, her body covered in a dark blanket that shrouded her face from all but Bastien, who was doing his best to look down and memorise her face between steps out into the wilderness.
A private, small cremation. They would have a funeral later with all the pomp and circumstance she deserved, but right now it was just family. Deimos had helped to protect her body, had been a brother and friend to her long before Bastien had ever met his wife; Hotaru was her sister and Kiada her daughter...Bastien had not been able to look her in the eyes when he'd seen her. Any chance to rekindle the relationship with her mother gone and he had failed to prevent it.
A pyre would be built from branches and sticks they carried in a small wagon and she would be turned to ash: her body protected from any ill will or desecration. She would be protected by those closest to her in death, just as she was loved: Bastien held her a little tighter, blinking back tears in his eyes as the early morning glow of sun just began to peek over the horizons, mostly blocked by fittingly heavy clouds.
