synflux | ( semi-closed ) the ocean washes over your grave

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( semi-closed ) the ocean washes over your grave

WHO: to those who wish to pay respects.
WHAT: wriothesley's funeral.
WHERE: an abandoned beach at okinawa.
WHEN: 20th of november.
WARNINGS: death, naturally. will update as it goes.

Whether this is your character's first time at Okinawa or not, one can tell that the usual summery atmosphere on this certain beach has been changed out for a more somber tone for this occasion. Ishmael had even taken it upon herself that the beach has been cleared out of any debris and crabs so that there won't be an further messes nor sudden uninvited guests turning up. Of course, most of the work and preparation are all thanks to Ereshkigal, the esteemed goddess of death, who's made sure to comply to the couple's wishes to the very end.

The funeral is located at what appears to be the remnants of an abandoned beach resort, which has been spruced up and decorated in soft off-color whites. The beach has been provided with ample shading as well; huge umbrellas have been set up at various points on the shore for some much-needed protection, along with a peaceful view of the beach and the nearby dock that goes a little further out into the water.

It is meant to be a quiet affair, the distant crash of waves being the only form of music accompaniment. Though of course, it can't all be doom and gloom -- after all, funerals are meant to provide reprieve for the ones who are left behind as well.

MORNING

At the gazebo overlooking the shoreline, the first thing one notices upon arriving is a casket made of dark food, covered in plenty of flowers. In it is Wriothesley, fresh-faced and tranquil in his tuxedo -- perhaps looking a bit too tranquil that one would think he's merely asleep. Aside from some new scars here and there he looks relatively unchanged, now and forevermore, all thanks to Ereshkigal's hard work.

Near the casket is a small table decked in white cloth and more flowers, with various pictures of Wriothesley displayed thanks to March 7th's contributions. It's a memory table, though instead of a book, a tablet will be provided where one can still submit their memories with him before it can be saved into a hard drive and will be given to Tezcatlipoca for later use.

Everyone is free to take one more look at their friend, acquaintance, brother figure and confidante for the last time before noon strikes. For anyone curious enough to want to observe the proceedings around preparing Wriothesley’s body, this is taken care of by one of the local gods of death. For the occasion, Tezcatlipoca even looks the part, since he dons his formal regalia to preside over the process. As he speaks Nahuatl, he gently pours a jug of water over Wriothesley’s head, then opens his mouth to place a little green stone inside, underneath his tongue. He brushes his fingers against the makeup that covers the top half of his face to collect a little smear of it, then brushes it down underneath Wriothesley’s lips. It’s an extra, personal blessing, should it be needed in the afterlife. It’s all serious and meticulous, a sign of how even the chaotic god takes this process as important and worthwhile.

After these preparations are done, he simply asks for the tokens that will accompany him, and he takes them all off to be cremated.

EARLY AFTERNOON

In case anyone is feeling peckish while waiting for the ashes, fortunately there are some food available. Since Wriothesley had had a fondness for tea that's bordering on addiction, there will be a wide selection of teas available at one side -- along with cookies and biscuits which were actually bought by Ishmael in bulk at various convenience stores, but don't knock them out before you try them! There are even some leftover boxes of pocky that were brought along, but for the sake of this occasion, they're not spiked with anything. There is also coffee for those with a different palate, though they come in instant packets. Better than nothing, and they aren't too bad (in Ishmael's opinion).

Of course, there are also servings of sliced fresh fruit such as watermelon, mango, and pineapple along with coconut crab chowder if you want something a little more filling.

It will take a couple more hours before the main part of the event, and that means more time to kill. Ishmael isn't forbidding anyone to take a dip in the waters if they like, so long as they can come back looking fresh and new. There are also fishing gear provided, albeit in limited stock. Ultimately this is the time to catch up with each other, potentially gossip about the dead or even other people who come to mind -- it's all in good fun, at least until it is time to say goodbye.

LATE AFTERNOON

At last, when the sun is beginning to set on the horizon, it's finally time. Tezcatlipoca will have been staying the entire time to observe, but he simply returns with an urn in his hands to give to Ishmael. Ishmael then urges everyone to come follow her to the furthest end of the dock, the wind not too strong enough for the ashes to be cast as far as can be.

Here, Ishmael puts the urn on display and tells everyone that if they like, they are free to take a handful of ashes and scatter them into the waters. Whether or not they choose to utter their final words or not, it doesn't matter -- their thoughts will be carried off by the wind and the waves at the end of the day.

And with that, the funeral is over. Everyone is free to go home after this, or help in the cleanup of the venue if they're that inclined. Either way, they will all have to move on one way or another and they will have to do it together.

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[ ooc: hello! while this is reserved for the people who knew him, people can also be +1'd if they so desire! just mention it in the network post associated with this log right here. as always, have fun! ]

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[ It really doesn't feel enough, to just contribute photos. March hadn't been able to see his body; he'd been dead long before he'd been brought back by the other rescuers and she'd had to stay busy healing everyone. Seeing him again, or at least his body, the prospect of it had filled her with trepidation.

But she's approached the casket, gently tucked in one of the glass cats he'd gifted her only a couple of days after she'd settled into life at the base to celebrate her "birthday", murmured to him that she still had the rest so that they were still connected, said a bunch of other things in a much quieter tone and backed off.

She'd followed the instructions, of course. Black choker, longer bits of her hair pulled back in a black ribbon with the shorter bits hanging loose, a black dress that cut off above her knees.

And she does hold it together, remarkably well, until they let the ashes go drifting off in the wind.

And that's when March, completely unabashedly, arms wrapped around herself, bursts into tears. Like loud, unrepentant sobs.

She maybe held this in a little too long. ]

[ This is perhaps the most uncanny sight Ereshkigal has seen so far. March is always so vibrant, so full of life, a rainbow of colors following her every steps. It's like the aura she radiates eliminates sorrow and pain in the world around her. So to see her dressed in black, so solemn and sad...

And then she breaks down, crying. ]

...

[ Ereshkigal makes her way to March and wraps her arms around her immediately. Gently and in what is - she hopes - a comforting manner. There's no shame in crying, especially during such things. ]

There, there...

[ She should cry as much as she wants. There is no one here who will judge her. ]

[ She kind of wonders what it is about people soothing you when you cry that makes you want to cry more, actually. Because Ereshkigal's arms wrap around her and March buries her face in her shoulders, practically clinging as her sobs grow exponentially louder for it. She hadn't had time to talk to Wriothesley before he'd been taken. But all the times they'd reached out to each other, how he had been the very first person she had told he was just as important to her as the members of the Express...

There's so much regret for words left unsaid and yet it feels like if she'd had the opportunity no amount of time would have been enough.

Sorry for the barnacle, Eresh. ]

[ The barnacle is very welcome to keep on crying.

There is no hint of the usually awkward and easily flustered goddess here. She remains silent and keeps holding March as she cries even more, placing a hand atop her head. She needs to let it all out, to be shown it's alright to cry. Keeping it all in, that's just burying your sorrows and leaving them to your future self.

Eresh isn't crying on her end though. She's shed enough tears away from prying eyes. And so now she can comfort others - or so she hopes. ]

[ As long as she got the tears out somewhere, we'll count it as good.

And March will... eventually lift her head, wiping her eyes. Ugh. She feels like a mess, or like one of those towels that's been viciously wrung out to dry. ]

... I wanted to save that for later.

[ Oops. ]

[ Ereshkigal takes a handkerchief and carefully brings it to March's cheeks and eyes to help her wipe the tears away. ]

Of course you did. [She'd wanted to cry without anyone seeing her. When there isn't anyone left to comfort her. March is that kind of person she figures, just like her. Even if they have different reasons for wanting to hide their tears.] But it needed to come out now, right?

[ She smiles at her - though still sadly. ]

I never really got to thank him for everything, and I thought I'd be able to talk to him, support him once we saved him, but...

[ She swallows thickly, just letting Ereshkigal mop her up. She can't bring herself to be too embarrassed here. ]

This really makes it feel... so final.

[ He knew. That she was grateful, that is. Someone like Wriothesley who was so good with people? Of course he knew. Once all the tears wiped away, she takes a step back and turns back to look at the sun. ]

... Sometimes, words spoken during a funeral will reach the soul of the deceased.

[ That probably sounds silly, how could words reach him? But... It's not that silly where Ereshkigal comes from. Depending on the pantheon and civilization, it is a definite possibility. ]

So why don't you try telling him now?

[ She places a hand on March's back to try and encourage her. There's no certainty about how death works in this world... But the certainty is that it may help March in her grieving process. ]

I did.

[ A little sheepishly, a little tiredly. ]

When I saw him, in the coffin. I wasn't sure if he'd hear me, but if that's... really how it is, like you said...

[ She dearly hopes that's how it is. ]

Well while it may not be my world, I am the goddess of death.

[ She may have no authority here, but their worlds do share enough similarities that she can extrapolate a few things. Case in point, she's pretty sure there is an afterlife in this world, even if that's nothing like hers. ]

So you can trust me when I said he heard it.

[ She smiles reassuringly at her. She could be totally wrong, yet she looks the most confident she's ever been with March so far. ]

... There's no way I wouldn't believe you.

[ She needs to believe her, rather. Desperately. ]

Thank you. Please... look after him, for all of us. Though I'm sure you get that request a lot.

... I will.

[ Of course she won't be able to directly do that. She doesn't have access to the local afterlife, let alone the capability to check on the souls. But she still works at the cemetery and will watch after the headstone they made for him. ]

But there are other people I also must look after, right? [She smiles at March.] Though you're so strong, I have no doubt you will overcome this.

I think he'd mess up my hair if I didn't use this to get stronger.

[ With a tired sigh, even if it is fond. ]

I've said goodbye to people before, and carried on their legacy... so I think... no, I know that I need to do that for Wriothesley, too.

[Dan Heng didn't know much about funerals. It's not something the Xianzhou Luofu practiced often due to the nature of long-lifed species and mara. So he'd studied much in this world on its customs, what is most respectful, and most of all...the wishes of those putting this funeral all together.

He's wearing a black suit. ...he didn't know Mr. Wriothesley too well, but the man was very kind to him. Dan Heng found his vision blurring as he fastened his tie, something the man patiently taught him what seems like a lifetime ago.

Some other wisdom he'd imparted comes to mind now, as he watches March; bright, energetic, cheerful March, dressed in black, curling in on herself, bowing under the weight of heaving sobs, tears pouring down her face as if a dam had finally broken. Maybe it had.

"Would you be willing to give her a hug if you saw her?"

Maybe Dan Heng wouldn't know what to do, before all this. He's...not the best at comforting. But...

"Things have been tough around here lately so I think she could use the hug, especially if it's from someone she trusts."

Words, precious advice from the man they're all gathered here to bid farewell to, they guide him forward. He doesn't need to be told to be there for his friends, but the direction stuck with him, giving him guidance where he otherwise might have floundered. Dan Heng draws closer to March, wrapping his arms around her.

He doesn't say a word. He's always been more comfortable with actions instead. March is family. She...needed this, he thinks. Crying is a release, long overdue. But he won't let her crumble under the weight. He offers his shoulder, uncaring if the tears stain his suit. He holds onto her, hoping to give comfort as she grieves...and acceptance, if she needs it. He knows she's been holding back. There's no shame in this. She's not alone.]

[ Dan Heng isn't really a huggy person. Between the two of them, it was usually March initiating and she understood his preferences and what made him uncomfortable. It's easy enough to avoid it.

But it's Dan Heng who wraps her up now and March automatically latches onto him, resting her face against his chest as her shoulders shake. It's easier to muffle herself like this. He's seen her be a mess before, it's okay.

Maybe not quite like this. But he's unflinching and he's family and that's really all she needs right now--to just let it out with ragged sobs until all of that leaves her body. ]

[ it was so apparent that march had been holding it all in for so long, since their little spa session. she's been so strong, providing support in combat and in more emotional matters to those who need it, that it was only natural that she will come falling down inevitably.

ishmael can only stand back, watch and listen to her cry her poor heart out. and she'd like to pat her shoulder or even offer her an embrace, but she can only take so much of this after grieving for weeks. she can already feel tears welling up in her eyes once more, and she wipes them off with her hand before sighing and turning away.

cry as much as you want, march. they'll go shop till they drop eventually. ]

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( semi-closed ) the ocean washes over your grave

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