[AW]Time to say goodbye

Aimée's funeral. Welcome to all.

POSTED: Sat Jan 24, 2015 12:04 pm

Word Count: 546:: Aimee’s funeral. 24th January, midday. Miskunn and Axle are in attendance, all welcome to anyone else. ::

Everything felt like a dream to Arno. No, a nightmare. Some bad, horrible dream that he couldn’t wake up from, pulling him along a path he didn’t want to tread. The yearling had been found mourning over his mother early in the morning, when some Luperci whose identity he couldn’t bring himself to remember had come to check on the Russeau house. From there the day had been a busy clamour of condolences and talking, wolves he had never met or didn’t recognise filing into the house and setting about tasks that the broken youth couldn’t comprehend.

Arno had drifted through it all like he wasn’t even there. The initial attempts to pry him way from his mother had been met with teeth, anger and the faint taste of blood in his mouth, but after it was managed he had just stood there like a zombie, saying nothing and moving slowly wherever the others motioned him. Eventually the parade of pitying glances and worried faces trailed off to just two figures, a kindly woman who spoke little but with great weight when she did and a gruff, bi-coloured man with a fresh bandage wrapped around his hand. The man moved in and out of the house with regularity, seemingly taking direction from the woman who otherwise stayed with Arno, trying to talk to him. Her name, “Miskunn” slipped in one ear and out of the other, as did her questions of was he alright or what he wanted to do with his mother; all were met with little more than a blank stare before Arno returned to staring at his mother’s corpse.

Eventually the woman had sighed and seemed to make some plans of her own, speaking to the man who left the house for some time. When he returned later it was for the final time as he entered the house and made a beeline for Aimée, hefting the corpse gently in his arms. Arno’s half formed protests were silenced by a warm hand against the back of his neck, and the yearling was led gently out of the house towards a clearing. A decent sized patch of ground had been cleared of snow and a small mound created out of kindling and dried wood, looking something like a bed and a boat had been morphed into one. It was upon this wooden pedestal that the large man placed Aimee’s body, gently setting her down and backing away with a bowed head. Arno flopped down in the snow and stared vacantly at the

The woman started to talk again, words spoken in a soothing tone drifted through Arno’s ears all but unnoticed except for the tone. A few words stuck in his brain, vague references to death, the afterlife and the norse religion that many in Vinatta held dear. Her speech was short, ended with a sympathetic look shot Arno’s direction before the woman reached into her robe and produced a fire-starter.

A couple of deft movements later and the pyre was lit, quickly igniting in roaring flames. Arno let out an uncontrolled whimper at the sight, but otherwise made no move. The youth just lay there weakly, his eyes fixed on his mother’s body as the flames slowly crept up to devour her.

Last edited by Arno Rousseau on Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Arno Rousseau
Now it's time to say goodbye, To the things we loved, And the innocence of youth.

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Alex
Luperci Craftsman
Scars strengthen the soul

POSTED: Sat Jan 24, 2015 12:16 pm

Myrkr is in and out. :c

Myrkr didn't know what was going on. His mother had gone off in a hurry one day after murmuring with another wolf -- her name was Finch, he thought -- and she hadn't been back until very late in the day, and even then only walked by him as he played by himself under the watchful stare of the cats. The Stormbringer boy trotted after her, asking questions, but she only shook her head at him and promised she'd explain later.

He followed -- despite Shiloh's soft protests, the worried furrow in her brow -- and wandered into the clearing where his mtoher and others stood. He saw Arno -- who looked wrong, he thought, and sad -- and then saw Arno's mother on a great stand of wood, where Miskunn was speaking. He recognized some of the words, some of the names, but only inched forward, nose twitching at the scent of illness and death, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

Shiloh stopped him from getting closer, ordering him with a weary sternness to her side again. Myrkr leaned against her, his eyes widening. What's wrong with her, Mama? he asked.

She's... gone, Myrkr, the Dawnbringer replied in a murmur, but before she could explain, the fire caught and the clearing was full of the scent of burning wood and hair and flesh, the flames consuming the dead woman -- the dead mother.

Myrkr made an odd noise in his throat, and shook harder than he'd ever shook before in his whole life, and with a harsh barking sob spun and ran as far as far as he could from the fire and the dead mother, his bob-tail tucked and his lungs suddenly wailing for breath.


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Raze
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POSTED: Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:39 pm

OOC: :'c [In my opinion] one of the saddest moments in TV was an episode of Buffy involving a similar situation (spoilers in that video if anyone cares). I will never forget that episode and your beautiful post left me with the same deep, heartbreaking emotions. Lovely post, Alex!

IC:

Something heavy was hanging in the air. Wolves, her own mother included, were bustling about and speaking to one another in low, hushed voices. But nobody was saying anything to her. In fact, for all her pestering and yipping and prodding, she may as well have been invisible. A figment of her own imagination. Did that even make sense? Thyri didn't have the mental capacity to decipher the statement and shook it off with a literal twist of her head, thick coat rolling smoothly over her chubby frame. She had other things on her mind anyway.

Jordheim appeared abandoned and the stillness that hung in the air felt tense and sad. Even the birds seemed moved to silence with whatever was happening. It was eerie and left a dreadful feeling in the pit of the young wolf's stomach. Something was wrong. Something she could feel but could not understand. Something she had never before experienced. With a suddenness that left a chill in Thyri's bones, the girl found that all she wanted was the warm, soothing presence of her mother and brother to tell her she was being silly, that her imagination was getting the better of her. She just wanted to know that everything was okay.

She found the clearing as if something visceral was pulling her towards it. From the distance, she could see the figures of her mother and brother, as well as those of several other wolves, gathered around something - someone? - on a gathering of wood. Thyri hesitated. This was the source of the wrongness and while she wanted so badly to be near her family, she found herself afraid. Suddenly, flames ate up the dry tinder and the pale Dawnbringer watched as her brother's dark frame trembled. Had she ever seen Myrkr shake so hard in her life? Thyri didn't think so. Ears lowered and body hunched, she followed his form as he sobbed, spun, and dashed towards - and then past - her with body language that screamed anguish. "Myrkr?" she whispered as he raced by. Thyri swallowed hard and forced her gaze back to the flames and her mother's solitary figure of orange-kissed ivory.

She had to know.

Myrkr's trembling seemed to have been contagious because without realizing it, the young girl had also begun to quiver uncontrollably. She willed her limbs to pull her forward. They felt like wood. She moved slowly, jade eyes fixed on the flame, and crawled up to Shiloh. "Mommy?" she whined softly, peeling her gaze from the hypnotic flare of flame to gaze fearfully up at her dear mother. Arno's anguished whine snapped her head back around and her trembling intensified. She pressed herself into her mother's solid form, as if hoping her steadfast warmth would make the terrors disperse. Where was his mother? Why wasn't she there to comfort him, too?

The flames caught her gaze again and she knew. Without needing words to tell her, she knew, and everything was all wrong and innocence was lost and it wasn't fair. And Thyri, the youth who thought herself so brave and strong, quaked uncontrollably against her mother. In that moment, she found there was nothing else in the world she wanted more than to be in her mother's safe, soothing presence forever.

[WC: 544]
Last edited by Thyri Dawnbringer on Wed Mar 04, 2015 5:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Mandi
Mate to Merlin Apothecary I Ægishjálmr: Helm of Awe
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POSTED: Sat Jan 24, 2015 5:11 pm

Bjorn's eyes were cast down into the dirt and unlike the other pups, he was utterly silent. He couldn't will himself to look directly at the funeral pyres or the body that rest in the middle of the flames. The occurrence or thought of death was not one that upset him much, since it often signalled the end of suffering, but the sight of a lifeless body seemed to be universally discomforting. Despite the various herbs that wafted through the air, it was impossible to completely cover up the stench of death, and so Bjorn pressed his nose into his fur in order to fill his nose with his own musty scent. While young Bjorn was probably the most sensitive one of the pups, if not the entire village, he had learned to master the suppression of tears and drew his attention away from the attacking sights and thoughts by focusing on twitching his toes in rhythmic pattern. Though the young boy had been attentively listening to the poetic elegy that Miskunn was in the middle of delivering for the majority of the funeral, his eyes and mind wandered towards Arno. The battered, raw, and drained face of Arno a horrific juxtaposition to the cheerful dog who helped him with French only a few days prior. Bjorn never knew Aimee, but a brief glance into the shell-shocked expression that Arno wore was enough to make his heart jump into his throat and to challenge his abilities of holding back tears. It was as though Arno had felt all the emotion that he could, and now his spirits were vacant of the ability to feel. A single fraction of what Arno was going through infected the boy all in one moment, and Bjorn blinked back fat, hot tears. He had to do something.

Bjorn broke off from his family and hesitantly approached Arno, who was staring blankly at his mother's burning corpse. He had thought to press into Arno, but the oddly wise puppy somehow knew that nothing but the passage of time could dull the intense pain that festered throughout Arno. The puppy simply nudged the older dog and gave him a silent consoling gaze as a reminder that even without Aimee, Arno had plenty of remaining family. His gaze didn't linger for long though; Bjorn hated the feeling of being pitied, and returned back to his family on the chance that Arno was the same way.

On his way back, Bjorn managed to lock eyes with Aimee and was momentarily frozen as he watched the charred body being sent off. The chills that snaked up his spine rendered him mobile once more, and despite former attempts to try and act like an adult, Bjorn acted like the scared young puppy that he really was and ran back to his parents with a nearly inaudible whimper.

But then, a harsh cry sounded in the air from Myrkr. He must have seen her... Bjorn debated running after the boy and after giving one final look to the flames, slunk off in his direction.
Bjorn Moineau

POSTED: Sun Jan 25, 2015 2:11 am

WC: 404

Death was nothing new to Aspen; she had seen it before in her birth pack at a very young age and had grown desensitized to it. For her daughters, however, it was a very new concept. Sure, they had seen prey and helped with cleaning it, but this was very different from seeing a dead canine, one whom they had seen around, even if they did not know her well. They were both apprehensive about attending, understandably so, but Aspen had explained to them that they needed to go to support Arno, because that was what was important. As she viewed it, funerals were for the living to see support from others even more than they were about the dead.

So, she made her way to the ceremony with Ascher; Shore and Ode were trailing along behind her, the former bipedal and the latter on four paws. Both had ears back and tails tucked. Aspen had never experienced a funeral in Vinatta and did not know what to tell her daughters so they would know what to expect, but they would know soon enough. Ode and Shore hung back when they arrived, and Aspen took a few more steps forward to listen to Miskunn's words.

She watched in silence as the pyre was lit, and it was Arno's whine that tugged her forward. She stopped and glanced at Ascher as Bjorn approached him and then left. She could not simply let him lay there alone and so she didn't. Instead, she knelt next to him and reached out, intending to put a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer even the smallest amount of silent comfort and understanding, and she felt no pity for him, but empathy instead. Although she did not know if her parents were dead, she was quite sure that they were and had mourned as if they were as well.

"I-if you need anything, you can let me know," she told him in a voice that was barely more than a whisper before gently withdrawing her hand. She knew that there were no words that would ease his pain; time would have to do that. The Starfa Rikr shifted her posture from kneeling to sitting near him with her legs off to the side of her. If she could not offer words that would help, she hoped that her presence could at least be comforting in some small way.
Aspen


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Myst
Luperci Livestock Manager + Cook + Stable Hand Head of the Starfa Tier
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POSTED: Mon Jan 26, 2015 6:54 am

Ascher had been touched by death early in life; his own Mother had fallen when the scholar and his siblings had been nothing but puppies. There was nothing more final. Death was irrefutable, and it pained Ascher to think of another young boy losing his Mother. Although Asch did his best to put on a brave face for the sake of everyone around him, his expression was grim as the small family unit made their way towards the pyre. Ascher brought up the rear, making sure neither of his daughters stalled in their tracks through fear or apprehension. As much as the Stormbringer wanted to shield his precious kin from pain, he knew that death would touch them all at some point – and the funeral rites were another custom for them to observe.

Some were already gathered, and Asch felt another pang as he noted the more youthful faces. The Eljun Rikr's ears fell back against his head when Arno made a gut-wrenching sound filled with grief and loss. Ascher's blue eyes were hidden in the shadow of a furrowed brow, but they rested on the fire as he considered the inevitability of it all. Could he have prepared the young mourner for this loss, somehow? He had known the woman was ill, incurably so, and he had not done enough to help the young man she was leaving behind.

Aspen caught his eye and Ascher dipped his muzzle, though he remained silent as his mate went to Arno's side. Of all the words he could have conjured to try and ease the youngster's suffering, none seemed like they would really get through at the moment, let alone help – so the quiet man stayed quiet, only hoping that somehow his presence could sop up some of the sadness which hung heavy in the air.

[306]
AscherStormbringer

It's always darkest before the dawn
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Rat
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POSTED: Tue Jan 27, 2015 6:40 pm

His heart was heavy when he came to the pyre where Aimee would meet the gods beneath the flames that would send her to ashes as her spirit ascended to the heavens. He hadn't gotten to know her in her time within Vinatta, but he knew of her. Lochlan had seen her around, exchanged pleasantries as packmates did, and then moved on with his life. Never knowing there wouldn't be more time to get to know her. The clock had been ticking away and her time had expired upon this earth.

Miskunn was speaking words of ritual that were meant to send the dead to their final rest among the stars. The wolf's boy - Arno, that was his name - seemed most troubled. When Loch arrived, he found it rather strange that there were mostly cubs and their parents there watching the fire be lit. It was an early age to realize that your body eventually expired and was nothing but ash. Even those who were buried became worm food, feeding the cycle of life that would eventually nurture the bodies of the living. There was nothing pretty about death and it happened to them as predators in different ways, but it happened nonetheless. It was part of being alive: dying.

His ears flicked back when Myrkr ran off and he looked questioningly at Shiloh. If she wanted him to, he would try to go after the boy. He doubted he could help, but when it came to funerals, there wasn't much anyone could do. Even cubs had to learn to cope and mourn in their own ways.
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Nine
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action bears consequence

POSTED: Mon Feb 09, 2015 11:26 am

Solli liked funerals. Or more specifically, these type of funerals. And it was not because she took twisted kicks from the sorrow of others. It was the fire she enjoyed. As shitty as these things were, the orange flames that licked the sky always made it a little sweeter. Blue eyes stared at the flames, how long had it been since she was staring at a pyre like this? She came to an answer of 'four months' swiftly. Four months since it was Vegar's body, among others, charred upon a bed of firewood. Where waves of sorrow usually came, there was only disappointment. A fairly new development. Solveig was sorely disappointed that Vegar had been taken so young. He'd missed out on so much that others had. Family, a long mateship, a chance to become someone. But most of all Solli wept that it was not Valhalla that ended up as his final home. But Hel. As would the boy's mother.

Having been here for a number of weeks, she knew her pack mates names. And from her position she could see the boy, Arno. Along with Shiloh, a number of small children and a few others who's names she either didn't know of couldn't place. Miskunn too was there, Solli would have been surprised if she wasn't. She watched the boy scampered off, looking from his disappearing form, the others and then to Shiloh. Her eyes softened, poor thing. It was something he had to learn and experience, something that would hit anyone fiercely.

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POSTED: Fri Feb 13, 2015 12:29 pm

He had seen another death like this, not that long ago.

It had been a stranger, an old man, and Leaf had not known his story. All he knew was that there had been a one-armed man (his son) in pain from the loss, and another (the clown) that had suffered as well.

Leaf felt like a stranger then, and he felt like this now.

He remembered the boy and his mother from a chance encounter, but did not leave his position from the edge of the crowd. Leaf understood that death was natural, and inevitable. Though he was capable of higher thoughts, he did not brood heavily on such things.

He wondered, watching the reactions from the children, if they had finally realized this truth. Leaf could not remember when he had first realized such a thing, but imagined it had to be heavy, and shocking. How funny, he thought, how he couldn't remember.

If what the stories said were true, no one was ever really lost. They simply moved on.

So Leaf just sat, hazel eyes reflecting the firelight, and watched and thought about all those things he never really thought about.


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