Two Graves

Log Info

• Title: Two Graves
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Geir
• Place: W02: Mictlan
• Time: Monday, March 16, 2020, 6:18 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia brings the two kobold corpses to Mictlan, looking for someone to help her, with the bodies and her feelings. She finds Geir, and the Shaman knows what needs to be done. He consoles her and helps her sort out her thoughts, and together they bury the dead and say a small prayer.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* W02: Mictlan *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.

The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.
Geir         5'8"     200 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A short, copper-scaled Sith-makar.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

It's a nice day, blue sky, bright clouds, sunny spots which are warm with melting snow, shady spots where the snow is just fine. The air is clear and crisp, some birds are making noises in the woods and the squirrels are out, chasing each other.

A white-scaled sith-makar arrives, trudging into Mictlan with heavy steps. Her feet, especially her talons, are muddy and she has some spattering up her shins. She carries two large bundles, wrapped in cloth and tied up with ropes, one on each shoulder with her hand through a carry loop formed by the rope. These hang down her back and are vaguely humanoid in shape, and heavy enough she's burdened and slow moving.

She stands there, looking lost, looking around, searching for someone who might help her. You paged Ezil with 'hihi, how is?'

Spring is more and more of a promise every day, though the threat of Winter still looms nearby, waiting. A certain coppery-scale Sith works with his armor, settled comfortably before a tent, with a cheerful fire nearby. Cryosanthia is not alone for long, as Geir moves to her side, hastily pulling a shirt over his head.

"Allow one to easse your burden.", comes his voice, soft and low, for her ears only. His hand reaches for the rope over one of her shoulders, though he does wait for her to acquiesce before taking it. "One wonders if they need assistance?"

Cryosanthia looks at Geir with great relief. Stress scents are strong on her. She leverages the bundle around, holding it out. The weight is a little too much for her to hold up and the bottom of it thunks against the ground. A solid thunk, sounding wooden. She leans to keep the other one on her back, waiting for the copper-scale to take the first one.

"I don't know." The palescale admits, exhaling and sounding exhausted in a mental way. "They've been dead, nearly two days. I froze them. I don't know what assistance they can be given. Taking them to the Temple of Vardama in Alexandria, seemed foolish. Bringing them here, seems foolish."

Her tail drops on the ground. It's been dragging through the mud too, "they're kobolds."

Geir blinks a few times, but does heft the weight of the bundle over a shoulder. "So what are your intentionss? You wissh them to be buried?" He offers a hand out for the other.

Cryo swings the other bundle around, holding it with both hands so she doesn't drop this one, and passes it to Geir. She shrugs, with a blink. "This one doesn't know what to do with Kobold dead. Do they have rites? Do they burn or bury their own? Do we use our rites? Are they worthy scale-cousins, or would they contaminate our fire? These are Shaman-Caste lessons."

"I knocked..." She points at one of bound figures, "that one, their Leader, out. The party killed him later. I would have burned them there, but it was a sacred forest, so I carried them out and there was no time at the edge. We were picked up."

"This one feels guilty and bothered. They were murderous and causing problems. I would not be disrespectful, but there wasn't much to respect. I don't know what to do."

The copper-scale gently lowers both bundles to the ground, and steps forward with his arms wide. "One thinkss that you were kind, Cryossanthia. One would comfort you, for one can ssee your distresss. You did a kindnesss."

Cryo falls into the embrace, and holds tightly to Geir. She makes no odd noises, her breathing isn't particularly heavy, she isn't trembling. There's an empty stillness inside her, where her prior actions are stuck in a loop of uncertainty. Her voice is very steady as she explains, "This one tried to negotiate. This one was very curious to meet kobolds. Fighting them was fun, I was so tall and terrifying, they all ran away. Then the one I spared to try and talk sense into was killed because there was no easy solution."

She holds tightly onto Geir, "Should I not have talked? Should I have killed while hot blooded? Is... is it worth to Speak with them? Will they turn, like Goblins? Is that how we were once seen? This one needs closure, to do something for them. What is the right thing to do?"

Geir is warm and strong, and holds her gently still. "It is different every time.", he says quietly. "Ssometimes, you will find accommodation in exchanging wordss. Ssometimes your opponentss will not yield without a fight. Ssometimes they will not yield except to the cold handss of death."

He gently pulls her apart, and looks into her eyes. "Few creaturess are inherently evil. It is not a bad idea to attempt speaking with koboldss. They can be made to ssee the brighter path. They are, disstantly, relations."

The copper-scale lays a warm hand upon her cheek. "All racess were once wild. In time, all will mature, will come to be workable, companionable, willing to compromisse for the greater good. Until then, one sshould always try to give the benefit of the doubt. But do not stubbornly cling to any one plan or sstrategy. Be fleixble." He lets out a low breath.

"We shall send them to the Deathdragon. She will guide them to their afterlives. We can pray for their souls to have a safe journey. And I can protect them from undeath. It is the best, and most, we can do."

Cryosanthia listens, her eyes fixed on Geir's and for a sith-makar the upset in them is clear. She nods when touched, the warmth on her cheek is comforting. The advice is good, be flexible, bend. It's the whole principle behind her blade and body, she can live that advice. She inhales slowly, a deep breath.

"Lets send them on, then. She will know what to do. This one is consoled, that her best effort was made and not misguided." Cryo blinks once, straightens a little. "They did not give names."

The copper-scale's expression is warm, almost mirthful. "She will know their names. They will not be lost. Their spirits will be thankful, even in death." He hefts both of the bundles, and begins to move towards the forest. "The trees shall protect them."

Cryo follows, happy that she isn't carrying them anymore. It was too much for her, to have uncertain thoughts and two corpses constantly dragging her back to the topic. She brushes at the front of her armour, rolls her shoulders to try and loosen the tension there. Her tail is off the ground at least, a bounce is beyond it, just now. "That's good. I would know the proper things to do, and hope to not ever use them."

Geir walks far enough into the forest so that their graves will be difficult to "accidentally" find. He gently places the bundles down, and begins the process of digging. Removing first the small layer of snow, and then gently working to roll back the layer of dead leaves and clumps of grass. With a flat rock found nearby, he will begin to dig the soil beneath. "One only need ssay a prayer, though one would only be able to bless their graves if one iss able to casste divine spellss."

Cryo looks around and finds another suitable flat rock. She kneels down and helps dig, working opposite Geir. She nods, scraping away what dirt she can. "So they are not consumed by fire, their ritual is to bury? This one will learn the prayer, the divine spells are beyond me."

"One is unssure of their rituals. One will bury as he doess others. The Deathdragon will lead them to their place.", he says softly. "It would be rude to delay their burial, to have their sspirits remain longer than they sshould."

"It... does not seem a good topic to broach." Cryo says, and then she snickers, trying to cut off a laugh, failing, then failing completely to hold anything back. She laughs hard, so much she can't hold her rock and has to support herself on her hands. Her literal grave humour spills forth, "it would make such a taunt, 'hey opponent, this one really needs to know your funeral arrangements, have you left instructions? Do you wish your face covered or no? Flowers? Give the details, it's really important, this one can only fence so long!'"

Her laughter continues, flowing free and painful, at cruel fate but not cruel in itself. She finally catches her breath, looking at the bundles, "This one is sorry, sorry. I would have talked more with you." She takes up the rock again.

Geir works as she talks, nodding slowly. Her laughter gives him some pause, and he observes her closely as she speaks to the two departed Kobolds. "One hass not yet the power to return the recently departed, elsse he would be tempted to do sso. One sshould not give in to ssuch a temptation... one might be dealing with many familiess seeking to return their kin to life." He sets to digging a little longer, before gently urging her out of the hole.

"One knows not your names, little ones.", he says reverently as he pulls each bundle into the hole, and begins to unwrap them. He arranges their bodies carefully, and arrays their gear carefully, and from a pouch at his side, pulls silver coins, placing one in each of their hands. "One has the ssilver price to pay the ferryman. Be not afraid, and go bravely to the Dragon Mother. She shall tend your needss, and see you to your great beyond. Trouble not the living, and know that you shall ssee your families once more. Rest in peace, know that you were loved, and that you are loved." All said in Draconic. He whispers words of magic, his hands glowing faintly each time, before climbing from their grave. And then the burying begins.

Cryosanthia adds the sword that belonged to the kobold leader to his grave. She listens intently to Geir's prayer, quietly saying parts of it along with him when she can guess the words. As his hands start to glow, she adds her own farewell, "You fought bravely against difficult odds, peace forever on your nests now."

She waits for the other sith to climb out, and assists with the burying, moving the dirt to cover them both, watching it fall on their faces until she can see them no more. She is quiet throughout all of this.

The grass and dead leaves are returned to blanket the wet soil, and Geir adds the two flat rocks atop it, before covering it all with snow. "One will ssay that it is alwayss difficult to ssee folkss on to the Great Beyond." He gestures with a hand, and begins to walk away. "One will return and tend their gravess over time, for as long as he is able."

"This one appreciates that effort." Cryosanthia bows her head to Geir, observing the grave and the markers, exhaling slowly, "It is more perhaps than their families received. One hopes they will find them and lead the way in the afterlife. It was..."

She shakes her head, "... a mess all around, that I arrived part-way through. This one shall put the thoughts away, and hope respect for enemies is not wasted"

"Life should never be taken for granted, nor taken lightly. We cannot give it back once we have taken it away.", the copper-scale says softly. "It is a hard lessson. It is alright to reflect upon ssuch things." Geir steps forward once more, and offers an embrace. Cryosanthia takes that embrace again, holding tight to Geir and laying her head down his back. "Thanks, for seeing, everything. And understanding." She hugs, very tightly, needing to feel someone warm and alive; willing the sensations of the other two to fade from her back, she's not carrying them anymore. They're at rest, she can let them down now. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. For caring about more than yoursself. Let us return to the fire, and good cheer. And dinner."