Post by Mikalhvi on Aug 10, 2014 6:58:26 GMT
Kelle Ducote awoke alone, save for a ginger-blonde cat curled up at her side. For a while, her groggy mind was at peace, until she rolled over in the bed and realization hit her, the icy cold shard. Save for her cat, Chocobo, she was alone in this bed. In this house.
Curling up into a ball as she pulled the covers over her head, the brunette woman cried for a good twenty minutes as she struggled with the fact that this was, in fact, her life now. Alone once more; but with a newfound emptiness to life. Eventually, Kelle rousted herself out of the forgiving confines of her bed and into a shower that was first too hot, then too cold. There was no neutrality to be found today, it seemed...
Once dressed, she peered outside at the weather as she sipped from a cup of black coffee; It was overcast and grey, and a news report droning on softly nearby as background noise indicated there was a chance of rain later in the day. In a way, the sound was soothing, punctuated as it was by the soft tink and crinkle of Chocobo the goldenrod colored cat eating dry kibbles from a glass bowl - she felt less alone. But it was simply a weak placebo. Once she'd picked meaninglessly at a slice of toast for about five minutes without eating it, the woman got up, dumping the wasted food in the trash, put her dishes in the sink, and put on the finishing touches to her outfit; black stockings, ankle-height, flat-soled boots with decoratived leather straps on them, and a touch of makeup - primarily black eyeliner, mascara, and a lipstick so dark red it was nearly black. And then, after patting Chocobo on the head, Kelle Ducote gathered her purse, keys and a manilla envelope with something in it, off on her way to the one event she had never wanted to go to - not this soon, at least.
Leonin Smythe's funeral.
(Click this link first.
Then click this one. Let them both run in the background as you read.)
She made for a distinctive sight, the young woman making her way up the hill leading the procession to bring the casket up, unflinching even as a clap of thunder rumbled the land and a light rain began to fall. Clad head to toe in black as she was, she made a striking figure. Her boots, her stockings, a black dress that was tapered at the knees and hugged in the hips. It was relatively unadorned, save for underbust corset with it's silver buckles. At the shoulders and neck this dress was strapless but Kelle had thrown a black lace shrug over it, whose pattern was matched at her head - her shoulder-length hair had been pinned up and styled, a silver comb holding the hair and a black lace veil in place - the latter of which covered her face but did not fully hide her dismayed features from view. She carried with her a bouquet of roses in red and black blossoms, which she would lay upon the spot she would sit at in the rows of - for now - empty chairs. The coffin was placed under the tent, and the lid was opened; In spite of herself, Kelle had to look. She was relieved though; The coroner had done marvelous, and to anyone who did not understand what was going on, her late love interest simply looked asleep. As people were arriving, Kelle stood in front of the casket silently, holding back a tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume her, turning her into a crying heap of muck. With hesitancy she reached out and touched Leonin's lifeless hand. It did not, as she had feared it would, crumble into dust - instead it was merely cold to the touch and a bit on the stiff side.
No longer fearing that he'd dissolve into nothingness, the grieving woman gently stroked the cheek of her deceased lover; she knew he could not feel it, nor could it bring him back or make any difference, as a lover's touch often did in fairy tales, but it gave her solace, in a way. "Well, here I am... And here you aren't..." She muttered softly to the still form. "Your body is here but the rest of you has gone on... Are you happy, I wonder? Free of pain, hanging out with old friends who have already died..." A thought crossed her mind - "Do you even miss me, Leonin?" - but rather than vocalize it, the words caught in her throat like too large a bite of hamburger down the throat of a glutton, and she turned away, choking on her emotions, to sit and swallow the sorrow that made a tight knot in her chest. As Kelle turned, she saw some people had already arrived; among the faces she recognized Jason Sanders, Imraj Brar, and a few other co-workers whose names her bereaved mind couldn't remember at the moment. Rather than speak to anyone, though, she simply went to her seat, picking up the flowers and placing herself in the chair instead, stifling the desire to break down and cry.
Steadily, people began to arrive until finally at about five minutes before things were set to start, the majority of guests and attendees had arrived. Then the priest showed up; a younger fellow, maybe a few years' Kelle's senior, whose eyes seemed to bear the solemn weight of the world in them. "We are gathered here today... to remember a great man." A distant flash of lightning seemed to appropriately herald the mood of the scene, and the rain picked up, the drops becoming heavier as a light breeze ruffled the grass.
The rest of the funeral passed in a bit of a blur, with Kelle fighting back tears that threatened to fall even in the silence between words. This was all too much for her. It became even worse when it was her time to rise, step up to the podium, and say what she intended to say. There she found herself, standing in front of the others, microphone adjusted to her. Kelle Ducote flipped the black veil up slowly, and began to speak. "Leonin Smythe... was an amazing, stoic man. You all know this already, without a doubt." This was from the heart, there were no cue cards... She didn't have the heart or mind to write anything beforehand. "However, there was a side to him he showed me, that not many saw or knew existed. In a way, I understand why he didn't really show this part of himself publicly..." She shook her head quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Compassionate. Warm. Sad that he couldn't protect everyone... Maybe even... at times, a little fearful that he came off as too strong, inapproachable." Kelle smiled weakly, remembering the refined, older man as he was when alive... and not as she saw him on the day he died. "To know Leonin was to know a man with power and grace found only in a thunderstorm; powerful, maybe even a bit dangerous at times... but beautifully so and awe-inspiring." The brunette woman could feel the tears running from her eyes but she didn't stop. "None of us here... have been exempt in feeling the pain caused by his death. None of us anticipated this would happen... And Leonin's passing is a tragedy that only time will ease the pain of. But even then... not fully." She stepped down from the podium, raising her voice to be heard, but was not yelling. She stood beside the late Mister Smythe's casket, a hand resting on the edge. "A great man like this... deserves to be remembered. Even if it hurts."
Tears stained a sooty coal color by her eye makeup, Kelle lowered her veil once more, feeling the hot liquid of her physically-manifested sorrow running down her cheeks. She returned to her seat, to let others speak their piece... and then as the procession of viewing started, for those who desired, she came up last, after the rest. A few people had tucked mementos of sorts in with Leonin's lifeless form; a fine looking japanese sword was one of the items that caught her eye momentarily. Kelle instead looked at Leonin's silent, unmoving face... and leaned in, kissing the deceased man on the forehead tenderly. "Goodbye, Leonin... my love..." She whispered softly, taking the single red rose she'd retrieved from the bouquet and lifted his hands briefly, to place the ruby-red blossom into his grasp. It was then that she would close the coffin; Kelle was the one given the privilege of saying it was time to lay him to rest at last. Though, she did not do so lightly; she felt she was cutting out her own heart and laying it amongst his remains, to bury it with Leonin Smythe. Amidst thick droplets of rain, as if the heavens themselves were weeping at the loss of the man, his casket was carried out to where it would be interred into the earth.
She stood stoic, not caring that rain soaked her form as she watched the slick black casket slowly drop into the earth. She wept silently and undramatically as the first shovel's worth of dirt fell upon the glossy wood... and stood there until the last shovel of earth was tamped down gently, after all the others had gone. Even the robot who had placed the earth over the casket had rolled away, without any real notice that Kelle was still there. Slowly, she moved; it was still raining, she was chilled to the bone and her mascara and eyeliner had smeared into a corpselike black river down her cheeks from her eyes. She took the bouquet of red and black flowers, and carefully placed it atop the earth-mound. "They have buried you, Leonin Smythe... but with you, they have buried a piece of my heart, too. And I will never be the same..." Kelle said softly.
The last figure on that hill turned away, rain-soaked figure clad in black making her way down the soggy earth, to return to her empty home and empty life once more. Upon the hill, where Leonin Smythe was buried, there stood the usual headstone, bearing the name and lifespan of the deceased... with an additional message;
"The universe is a darker place without you.
Rest in Peace."
Curling up into a ball as she pulled the covers over her head, the brunette woman cried for a good twenty minutes as she struggled with the fact that this was, in fact, her life now. Alone once more; but with a newfound emptiness to life. Eventually, Kelle rousted herself out of the forgiving confines of her bed and into a shower that was first too hot, then too cold. There was no neutrality to be found today, it seemed...
Once dressed, she peered outside at the weather as she sipped from a cup of black coffee; It was overcast and grey, and a news report droning on softly nearby as background noise indicated there was a chance of rain later in the day. In a way, the sound was soothing, punctuated as it was by the soft tink and crinkle of Chocobo the goldenrod colored cat eating dry kibbles from a glass bowl - she felt less alone. But it was simply a weak placebo. Once she'd picked meaninglessly at a slice of toast for about five minutes without eating it, the woman got up, dumping the wasted food in the trash, put her dishes in the sink, and put on the finishing touches to her outfit; black stockings, ankle-height, flat-soled boots with decoratived leather straps on them, and a touch of makeup - primarily black eyeliner, mascara, and a lipstick so dark red it was nearly black. And then, after patting Chocobo on the head, Kelle Ducote gathered her purse, keys and a manilla envelope with something in it, off on her way to the one event she had never wanted to go to - not this soon, at least.
Leonin Smythe's funeral.
(Click this link first.
Then click this one. Let them both run in the background as you read.)
She made for a distinctive sight, the young woman making her way up the hill leading the procession to bring the casket up, unflinching even as a clap of thunder rumbled the land and a light rain began to fall. Clad head to toe in black as she was, she made a striking figure. Her boots, her stockings, a black dress that was tapered at the knees and hugged in the hips. It was relatively unadorned, save for underbust corset with it's silver buckles. At the shoulders and neck this dress was strapless but Kelle had thrown a black lace shrug over it, whose pattern was matched at her head - her shoulder-length hair had been pinned up and styled, a silver comb holding the hair and a black lace veil in place - the latter of which covered her face but did not fully hide her dismayed features from view. She carried with her a bouquet of roses in red and black blossoms, which she would lay upon the spot she would sit at in the rows of - for now - empty chairs. The coffin was placed under the tent, and the lid was opened; In spite of herself, Kelle had to look. She was relieved though; The coroner had done marvelous, and to anyone who did not understand what was going on, her late love interest simply looked asleep. As people were arriving, Kelle stood in front of the casket silently, holding back a tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume her, turning her into a crying heap of muck. With hesitancy she reached out and touched Leonin's lifeless hand. It did not, as she had feared it would, crumble into dust - instead it was merely cold to the touch and a bit on the stiff side.
No longer fearing that he'd dissolve into nothingness, the grieving woman gently stroked the cheek of her deceased lover; she knew he could not feel it, nor could it bring him back or make any difference, as a lover's touch often did in fairy tales, but it gave her solace, in a way. "Well, here I am... And here you aren't..." She muttered softly to the still form. "Your body is here but the rest of you has gone on... Are you happy, I wonder? Free of pain, hanging out with old friends who have already died..." A thought crossed her mind - "Do you even miss me, Leonin?" - but rather than vocalize it, the words caught in her throat like too large a bite of hamburger down the throat of a glutton, and she turned away, choking on her emotions, to sit and swallow the sorrow that made a tight knot in her chest. As Kelle turned, she saw some people had already arrived; among the faces she recognized Jason Sanders, Imraj Brar, and a few other co-workers whose names her bereaved mind couldn't remember at the moment. Rather than speak to anyone, though, she simply went to her seat, picking up the flowers and placing herself in the chair instead, stifling the desire to break down and cry.
Steadily, people began to arrive until finally at about five minutes before things were set to start, the majority of guests and attendees had arrived. Then the priest showed up; a younger fellow, maybe a few years' Kelle's senior, whose eyes seemed to bear the solemn weight of the world in them. "We are gathered here today... to remember a great man." A distant flash of lightning seemed to appropriately herald the mood of the scene, and the rain picked up, the drops becoming heavier as a light breeze ruffled the grass.
The rest of the funeral passed in a bit of a blur, with Kelle fighting back tears that threatened to fall even in the silence between words. This was all too much for her. It became even worse when it was her time to rise, step up to the podium, and say what she intended to say. There she found herself, standing in front of the others, microphone adjusted to her. Kelle Ducote flipped the black veil up slowly, and began to speak. "Leonin Smythe... was an amazing, stoic man. You all know this already, without a doubt." This was from the heart, there were no cue cards... She didn't have the heart or mind to write anything beforehand. "However, there was a side to him he showed me, that not many saw or knew existed. In a way, I understand why he didn't really show this part of himself publicly..." She shook her head quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Compassionate. Warm. Sad that he couldn't protect everyone... Maybe even... at times, a little fearful that he came off as too strong, inapproachable." Kelle smiled weakly, remembering the refined, older man as he was when alive... and not as she saw him on the day he died. "To know Leonin was to know a man with power and grace found only in a thunderstorm; powerful, maybe even a bit dangerous at times... but beautifully so and awe-inspiring." The brunette woman could feel the tears running from her eyes but she didn't stop. "None of us here... have been exempt in feeling the pain caused by his death. None of us anticipated this would happen... And Leonin's passing is a tragedy that only time will ease the pain of. But even then... not fully." She stepped down from the podium, raising her voice to be heard, but was not yelling. She stood beside the late Mister Smythe's casket, a hand resting on the edge. "A great man like this... deserves to be remembered. Even if it hurts."
Tears stained a sooty coal color by her eye makeup, Kelle lowered her veil once more, feeling the hot liquid of her physically-manifested sorrow running down her cheeks. She returned to her seat, to let others speak their piece... and then as the procession of viewing started, for those who desired, she came up last, after the rest. A few people had tucked mementos of sorts in with Leonin's lifeless form; a fine looking japanese sword was one of the items that caught her eye momentarily. Kelle instead looked at Leonin's silent, unmoving face... and leaned in, kissing the deceased man on the forehead tenderly. "Goodbye, Leonin... my love..." She whispered softly, taking the single red rose she'd retrieved from the bouquet and lifted his hands briefly, to place the ruby-red blossom into his grasp. It was then that she would close the coffin; Kelle was the one given the privilege of saying it was time to lay him to rest at last. Though, she did not do so lightly; she felt she was cutting out her own heart and laying it amongst his remains, to bury it with Leonin Smythe. Amidst thick droplets of rain, as if the heavens themselves were weeping at the loss of the man, his casket was carried out to where it would be interred into the earth.
She stood stoic, not caring that rain soaked her form as she watched the slick black casket slowly drop into the earth. She wept silently and undramatically as the first shovel's worth of dirt fell upon the glossy wood... and stood there until the last shovel of earth was tamped down gently, after all the others had gone. Even the robot who had placed the earth over the casket had rolled away, without any real notice that Kelle was still there. Slowly, she moved; it was still raining, she was chilled to the bone and her mascara and eyeliner had smeared into a corpselike black river down her cheeks from her eyes. She took the bouquet of red and black flowers, and carefully placed it atop the earth-mound. "They have buried you, Leonin Smythe... but with you, they have buried a piece of my heart, too. And I will never be the same..." Kelle said softly.
The last figure on that hill turned away, rain-soaked figure clad in black making her way down the soggy earth, to return to her empty home and empty life once more. Upon the hill, where Leonin Smythe was buried, there stood the usual headstone, bearing the name and lifespan of the deceased... with an additional message;
"The universe is a darker place without you.
Rest in Peace."