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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I did, actually.

[And now, a sigh.]

We didn't always get along. But regardless of that...he was a man of strong convictions.

[They nod.]

I've been getting that impression. I've never seen death treated so... respectfully before.

[Catherine's will-reading had been as much a play for power and the machinations of others as it had been about her death, and the memorials hung by Mephistopheles's windshield were as much as they had ever had time to stop for. And then there was every other death. Just as Rodya and Ishmael had said, there had never been enough time to let them sink in.

It was just the way things were. Even Dante, unfamiliar with the world as they were when they first stepped foot on that bus, had quickly learned as much.]

...

[Yes, that's one part of why the City was so vile. Death treated as a commonality. As a mere fact to brush off like yesterday's news. Nobody would want to remember. If they did, they either buried it, or used it for their own selfish wishes. The flow moves on. People move on. Nobody can stop, and simply recall the bygone days.]

It's moving, isn't it? To imagine...we could live in a world where the dead could be respected as such. Every time.

[They'd started to grow numb to it as time goes on, caught themselves in La Manchaland feeling nothing as those beings that had once been human had fallen lifeless, as they gave the orders for the Sinners to cut another wave down.

Even in Wuthering Heights, with Hindley, they had been more than willing to leave the man to the Butlers of the manor, leave him to die. If Heathcliff hadn't spoken up...

Even so...

Even so.]

A world where death is uncommon enough for people to be allowed to grieve. I'd like that.

It feels more... natural, somehow.

Apparently, our world is the odd one out. You probably have seen it, haven't you, Dante? The odd looks. The concerned stares. Our world is...too vicious for anyone's liking.

[And even for his own liking. No, deep down, he knew the City should have never existed as it did. His horrible wish asked for it to be razed.]

[But for now...he can only persist, alongside Dante and Limbus Company.]

...What a mess we come from.

...Yeah.

[A mess that, for all they knew, they had contributed to before they lost their memories.]

But ultimately, we can only do our best to walk forward. Otherwise we just end up in circles.

The way of the Inferno is a circular one. A spiral downwards. But still, one treads the path forward. You shouldn't look back.

[Did you miss overly poetic Vergilius speech, Dante? Here you go.]

Here, too.

[A spiral downward, slowly sinking down, down.]

There's a way up at the end...

[They'd meant it as a reassurance--more for their own sake than Vergilius's--but in the end it still sounds like a question.]

Edited 2024-11-30 21:56 (UTC)

Is there?

[Maybe there is. One can hope so. He's bowing his head a little, thoughtful.]

For you...I could see that.

[A moment of silence.]

If it's just me, I don't think I could take it. [Not alone.] So if there is one, it's gotta be for more of us.

Always thinking of the majority. That's what makes a good manager, I suppose.

[To think of the many, not to dwell in selfish dreams.]

Would you feel bad, if the Sinners didn't make it to the end with you?

[Thinking of the majority... They try, but they're not sure that's what it is they're doing when they say that.]

That's putting it lightly. To tell the truth, I'm not sure what I'd do if that happened.

[Don Quixote had nearly left them forever in La Manchaland, and that had been hard enough.]

[A little bit of a nod, to prompt them to continue further.]

Well, certainly. But...would you feel bad, Dante. Would you mourn them?

I...

[Their gaze drops from the horizon to the sand beneath their feet.]

I would. But more than that, I'd have failed them. As a manager, and as something more than that.

...As their friend? Their family?

["Something more than that".]

You know, the City frowns on connections. Anyone can lose anyone else in a heartbeat. Do you think its worth it?

I don't know. But I want to think it is.

[Every Sinner whose memories they've seen... There were tragedies and loss, but there were happy times there too. Precious feelings that they'd held onto, that had meant something.]

You guys are all I have, after all.

[Ah, yes. Dante, without memory, feeling as lost as a wisp in a dark forest, frightened of things that go bump in the dark. They've come a long way since that initial start of their replaced head, for sure, but even so...]

[Loss of memory, of identity, runs deeper than maybe they let on.]

It can be used against you. Your soft heart. You may have to make hard choices down the line, Dante.

[They can't argue that point, and so they don't. Ahab had already tried to do just that when she demanded their head, after all. And then there's everything the company itself is trying to do. It's not that they're unaware, but...]

Then what am I supposed to do? I can't just get rid of those feelings.

You have to swallow them down. And you...have to be cold.

[This world that eats up tender hearts - he told as much to Garnet, trying to get him used to the darkness. Dante must also steel their heart.]

Or else, you'll be the one swallowed whole.

[They look away from the horizon, at Vergilius.]

Is that what you had to do?

All Fixers have had to do it at some point, Dante.

[It's a fact of life.]

[And its a weakness that can't be used, even though...it doesn't stop him from feeling, anyways. What a telltale traitor heart he has.]

Right... Right.

[They look away.

This is something everyone in the City has had to do at some point. Everyone. Why would they be any different?

The thought sinks like a lead weight and settles in their chest.]

My head, my memories, and now, someday, my heart.

Your heart...

[He also drifts off into silence for a moment.]

Well. At least you can't lose your heart like you've lost your head. It's yours. Through and through. Despite everything.

[It doesn't make them feel any better, but the weight doesn't feel any worse. Maybe it's the best that they can hope for. The one thing they can keep, just like he said.]

...Maybe I'll start saving up to buy a new one just in case I do. Think I can find one that matches?

[A poor attempt at lightening the mood, though they aren't sure for whose sake.]

[A long, long pause.]

[And then, dryly:]

If you do...I'm not the one who's going to be installing it.

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followyourstar - 2024-12-18 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

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