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Post by Swell on Nov 27, 2021 20:02:25 GMT -6
Calsten had become familiar to him over what little time he’d spent in the labs. There were plenty of jobs to be completed for landowners in the neighborhood ranging from weeding and gardening to less mundane tasks like watering plots of land using conjured rainstorms during the dry season. He grinned to himself, he never thought that he’d be able to use magic for much else other than survival, but in a land of plenty even the arcane seemed mundane at times compared to the miracles that the titular labs made possible for even the most common of their citizens. His feet traced a familiar path through the community unbidden. Down the street, past the estates and larger homes of the area, and a quick turn down the wooded path to Aveugle Dormir. Originally he’d found the path on accident, an incorrect turn in unfamiliar surroundings, but since learning of the true nature of the mortuary and its grounds he’d found himself compelled to return. He did not relish walking amongst the dead, but he craved the serenity of the grounds even if the burial practices of the land dwellers perplexed him. He’d originally thought little of the grounds assuming they were just some form of decorated garden, when he’d learned that it was actually a resting place for the departed he hadn’t returned for some weeks. His people didn’t bury their dead in the earth, they didn’t bury them at all. Just as he was about to make his way into the graveyard proper for his habitual stroll he witnessed a woman dressed from head to toe in what he’d come to know as mourning garb. He felt a pang in his chest, while he didn’t necessarily understand all the customs of those that inhabited the lab he knew that grief in general was a private manner that didn’t warrant the intrusion of outsiders, especially those merely walking the grounds to enjoy the serenity they provided. Rather than potentially disturb her the large man made a smart right turn walking past the main entrance to the mortuary, perhaps today his walk merely be a circumvention of the grounds in their entirety. [1/5]
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Post by Evainmoire on Nov 28, 2021 6:14:23 GMT -6
The grounds of the cemetery were oft open to those seeking a visit to the resting places of the departed, though few enough came by to visit, for death had an odd hold on the City so rife with the arcane of one form or another. For one such example, true death was rare, and fewer still looked as prepared to accept such as a result. Thus, the lepus found himself often with unspent time on his hands, for the management of the business and the grounds was simple enough matter. On such a day, he could have been found within the stables, tidying things up among the equines there, as well as in present time cleaning the tack from the dust of the road. What few visitors came by he knew to recognize well enough.
Not so with this strange man, however. Carefully, the lepus placed the tack back upon its rack and slowly stepped out from within the stable, wiping the dust from the hands with a cloth. The customary meeting of eyes had to send his gaze a good deal higher than common, even for his own tall height. It affected the lepus' polite demeanour little, even as he was only dressed in simple worker's attire of shirt, vest, slacks and cap, rather than the common formal suit. "Good day, sir. If you're looking for the services of the mortuary, I'm afraid to say we're closed on the weekend. You may return on Monday for any consultancy or settlement."
A thin yet sinewy hand parted towards the gate, white of the fur faintly illuminated even in the bright of day. "However, the grounds themselves are presently open for visit, should you wish to peruse."
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Post by Swell on Nov 28, 2021 18:25:13 GMT -6
He nearly jumped when the man addressed him. He looked back to the entrance to the grounds the man had gestured towards and shook his head while doing his best to hide his embarrassment. He’d never seen the man before during his walks, he’d remember his face or the slight glow emanating from his fur just barely noticeable in the light of day, an almost definite sign he was in the presence of another spellcaster. “Ah no, I-I don’t think I will today and I’m not looking for chapel services either I was-” He was what? How was he to explain that he hadn’t anyone to mourn amidst the various lawns and graves and instead he just enjoyed the small respite from the bustling nature of the city. How was he to articulate that he couldn’t bring himself to be in the presence of someone else with real and prescient grief taking up space that didn’t belong to him. He gave what was sure to be the smallest sigh a man of his size could ever utter. He ran his hand over the back of his broad neck as he sheepishly stared down at the other man, almost like a child worried about being caught in a lie. “I had thought to walk the grounds, but I saw a grieving woman enter them and I wanted to give her space, for you see... I’m afraid I’ve no one to grieve.” Well that wasn’t entirely true. There were plenty of people to grieve. “Or at least no one to grieve here, I don’t think they’d be able to hear me so far from home.” Thinking of home turned his thoughts from the present to the past. What happened when there was no one left to grieve one’s passing? Did their spirits grow restless, did they fade? He’d never had a chance to learn the intricacies of the afterlife, and he feared now it was much too late. “Can I ask you a question mister-” horror slowly creeped across my face and he shoved an awkward hand forward in greeting,”gods I haven’t even introduced myself, my name is… Swell.” [2/5]
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Post by Evainmoire on Nov 29, 2021 7:38:01 GMT -6
A curious style of contradiction, this stranger. A giant of a man yet with an awkwardness befitting someone of more demure stature. The lepus wiped his hand further, before reaching to shake the stranger's. "Evainmoire Pholier, sir. Mortician and groundskeeper. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mister Swell." Quite the comical sight it might have made, were there any others to bear witness, for his thin hand hardly compared to the stranger's. And yet there was no hesitation in the gesture, for the stranger seemed a gentle sort, despite their great size, and there was little cause to fear danger.
The conventions met, he stepped back once more, to place the cloth upon a barrel just outside the stable entrance. "I would assure you, to grieve is every bit a part of the journey for the living, as it would be for those passed." It was not unusual for kin to find themselves lost within the tides of grief. Some knew not when to mourn, some did not know how. There would even be some who simply refused, for to begin a process of mourning involved facing up to its meaning, to truly acknowledge the passing of a dear one.
Across his years, the lepus had seen many such types. Some could be helped, but not all. For those that could, he sought to offer what consolation he could. "You're quite welcome to inquire what you will. It appears you have a great deal upon your mind. Perhaps sharing such burden might lighten the weight on your heart?"
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Post by Swell on Nov 30, 2021 0:37:40 GMT -6
“Mister Pholier.” He released his grip of the thinner man’s hand and began to stroke his chin thoughtfully thinking how best to pose his question. He seemed kind, at least kind enough to listen to the troubles of a man he’d only just met, but he supposed you had to be something of a softer sort to devote your life to the remembrance of other’s loved ones. More than that there was something comforting about the man’s presence, he seemed genuine, thoughtful even. “What do you think they,” he gestured broadly toward the lawn,”think of us when we don’t mourn them?” He’d only been a child when he’d left, with little in terms of a cultural identity or even really an idea of what was lost to him now. There were times where he’d simply try and push it as far from his mind as he possibly could, but the enormity of his grief would always come rushing back in wave after wave. Was it because he hadn’t mourned them, was it because he'd left them all behind? Perhaps that was the worst of his sins, perhaps that was what ate at him and caused the torrents time and time again. There was no one else left to remember, no one else left to mourn, was it not his duty? He couldn’t blame them if they were disappointed, couldn’t begin to fault them if their souls were restless for lack of remembrance. He’d left. “Especially when… you’re the only one left to mourn?” [3/5]
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Post by Evainmoire on Nov 30, 2021 13:33:31 GMT -6
The nature of grief was inevitably based within questions and the act of questioning - the whys, the hows, the what ifs. And yet the lepus could have been a thousand years old and carried with him all the knowledge of those years, and yet still remained standing without an answer to such a simple question as posed by this stranger. Even in the years he did have, there had been many pains, many lessons, and fair few questions not unlike the one the stranger presented, some which he had struggled by himself as well. One could not be assured in any one answer or another, for the question would have meant something quite different when asked of a person in one part of the world to another. As such, the truth was not elusive.. There was an answer. However the style of such rather depended on the nature of the departed, the beliefs that accompanied them, and the far deeper intricacies of social nuance that could not so simply be addressed.
The lepus' gaze lowered, as he pondered upon the question, and for a time it perhaps seemed as if the stranger had truly stumped him. Though, experience had shown that one does not simply ask such without cause or reason, and the question was merely a method of expression, rather than the solution it might appear to be. "A very prominent question, mister Swell. What I believe may not perhaps align to what you might, or that of another. Belief can be a matter of the heart," the thin hand lightly tapped the middle of the vest. "If such is the question weighting on yours, the answer would need further exploration to find."
"But.. I would be most interested in exploring this with you, if you would." With short slow steps he returned to the doorway of the stable and reached within to retrieve a simple walking stick of carved wood. Then, with such aid, he was able to make the steps towards the yard entrance with much more ease, as the free hand gestured for the other man to accompany him, "Come, sir. And tell me of those who have left you, so that we might understand them better."
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Post by Swell on Dec 2, 2021 0:11:06 GMT -6
He figured that the answer might have been along those lines. Just as he could not speak to the ways of the labs and its denizens, their ways in turn held no sway over those he’d been left to mourn. He let out another sigh that was much too small for his frame, he’d be lying if he said that he wished the answer would have been a simple straight forward yes or no. The origins of the grief dwelling in his heart felt as though they were deeper than he could ever bring himself to delve. As it was he merely felt as though he were drifting face down on the surface staring longingly into the inky blackness below. “I thank you for the observation,” a wry smile crossed his features,”I suppose it was too much to hope for a simple yes or no when such complex matters as the nature of the souls of the departed.” He watched as the other man retrieved his walking stick and motioned for him to join him. While the day's events were certainly taking an unexpected turn he was intrigued by his new acquaintance’s words. In all the years since he’d last laid eyes on what had been his last home he’d never had a chance to talk. “I… I think I’d like that.” [4/5]
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Post by Evainmoire on Dec 6, 2021 8:17:02 GMT -6
The lepus lead the stranger towards the entrance to the yard, wherein the hedges stood tall enough to offer peace of mind and view from the surrounding world. Perhaps not so with the height of the stranger, though enough with the general attendance in all. Gravel turned to packed soil at the threshold, watched over by twin gargoyles to either side. The path ran straight among quartered placements of plots, branching sparsely, only where it could direct one down to more of the yard. Whether the stranger had apprehensions upon meeting the woman from before, there would have been no such need for concern. Where the woman had walked ahead towards the chapel, the lepus would have turned towards the right at the first such fork, to lead them deeper into the yard and its middle gate.
"In some the answers are simpler than others. Though not all.. Grief has many forms, and that most common is one of doubt," The lepus responded, with an ease of voice and calm of manner. "I should hope to believe most of us would seek to do right by the departed, though we might not always know how. Thus, our grief can often come more in the form of fear. Whether the choices we make are right and true." The head turns to glance towards his tall companion, "It is why we often seek to turn to ceremony, for it offers us consolation in knowing the right course of action."
A look of study passed, the light of the eyes seeming to measure something unseen as they walked. The tone then turned musing, "..Though I must admit, mister Swell, your kind would be the first I have come to encounter. Where do you hail from? And how might your people be called?"
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Post by Swell on Dec 8, 2021 18:38:55 GMT -6
He followed the other man’s lead lagging behind only slightly to admire the neatly trimmed tops of the privacy hedges. He’d always been amazed at the artistry on display on the grounds, to think it was all the work of a singular man seemed almost too much to fathom, but he surmised that spoke to the older man’s passion and reverence as a custodian of the dearly departed. He respected that, though they’d only just met he felt as though it spoke to the man’s character. He nodded along to Evainmoire’s musings, he’d lost count of the number of nights he’d been consumed by his own doubts. Witching hours with eyes wide staring at the void wondering if he’d done enough, if he could ever possibly do enough, to do right by those he’d so unceremoniously left behind. “Ceremony…” The word stung in his mouth. His people had a way of doing things, of saying goodbye to their loved ones. He’d only seen it done a handful of times in his youth, but he could see the bodies wrapped in colorful shrouds and flowers being sunk into the darkened waters, the Song building in intensity to the point that flocks of seabirds would take flight. He could feel tears welling at the corners of his eyes and hastily wiped away any obvious moisture. “Oh, my people?” The question almost started him, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked. Or perhaps, he thought to himself, I simply can’t remember the last time I gave someone the chance. “Well in our mother tongue we call ourselves the,” what followed could only be described as a low moan in the man’s throat followed by several clicks,”but in the common tongue we are called the Ceda. Though I cannot begin to tell you the amount of my kind in the world, but my pod and I hailed from the shores to the west.” “What about you Mister Pholier, from whence do you hail?” [5/5 +1]
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Post by Evainmoire on Dec 27, 2021 6:08:17 GMT -6
At the sound, the lepus' ear gave involuntary twitches of movement, as if to catch the sheer depth of the vocalization in its whole. But even sharper ears could be limited within their range, leaving the lepus to rather suspect he was only able to audibly hear but half of the sound the tall man made. "Oh my word.." is the reaction to it, not unkind, but rather more with a facet of academic fascination and a means of being surprised. It was certainly little wonder he hadn't hear of such people, if even the name could easily escape plainer ears. "I do hope you would not mind me preferring the Common version of your people's name. I rather suspect my own vocal range would not suffice to do it justice otherwise."
Though the scene had brought some pause to the lepus' steps, he began to continue towards the middle gate once more. In many ways, much like the tall man himself, the lepus had not often had to explain his own origins or people, though the reasons for such were rather different. And yet, unknown to him at the time, rather similar. The question offers a musing expression for a moment, "It is kind of you to ask, though I fear the answer is quite plain. I was born and raised within the area surrounding the laboratories, within the smaller townships that circle the greater metropolis. Though we don't quite call the laboratories home as such, we're neither distinct enough to stand so starkly apart."
As he glanced up towards the taller man, there's a look of assurance, "Perhaps in only that we have a greater appreciation for the ethics and a proper way of things." before he carries on with the previous topic. "The shores of the west, you say? That is quite a distance to travel here, and so far from the sea. What brought you to these lands, if I might ask?"
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Post by Swell on Jan 13, 2022 15:25:17 GMT -6
He blinked slowly, what had brought him? While many undoubtedly sought the city for its amenities and the promise of adventure he hadn’t had anywhere else to go. He could feel turmoil blossoming in his gut, just how much should he divulge about his origins? He shuddered at the thought of what might happen should word of his whereabouts spread, but perhaps it was time. “My pod,” his words came slowly, weighed down with emotion, “died quite suddenly when I was a child and I was left alone.” There was no need to thrust the details of the ordeal onto Evainmoire, he’d shared enough of his burden already he needn’t trouble the other man further. “I wandered for some years and eventually a benefactor directed me here and with nowhere else to go I figured it was as good as any other place to try and eke out a life.” For the first time in a long time he’d had a place to call home, companions he could call his own, somewhere he could feel safe. He hadn’t understood why the other man had seemed so eager to leave it all behind, but he was thankful nonetheless. The transition had initially been hard and there were days where he still felt familiar fear rise to the surface, but it was becoming easier and easier as the days passed. “From time to time I wonder if I made the right choice to come at all, but I find the presence of others a comfort in and of itself, turns out I was never one for the lonely life of a wanderer.” Or that of a lone survivor. [1/5]
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Post by Evainmoire on Jan 18, 2022 12:43:10 GMT -6
"My word.." the lepus' expression became one of not just sympathy, but sorrow as well. It would be no simple matter to grow from child to adult without the support of one's family, or even similar such peers. The suddenness of death made for the deepest grief, as much he knew through personal experience. It lacked the gentle balm of comfort which came from death postponed beyond its intended time, the assuring knowledge that the dearly departed would be devoid of further pain and suffering.. Perhaps that, most of all, gave him the perspective needed to understand this tall stranger's blight. The hand opposite to the walking cane rose to rest on his chest a moment and he lowered the head, "My most sincere condolences, mister Swell. Truly, the strength it would have taken to reach this far on your own is remarkable."
As the middle gate passed to their left and right, the lepus was able to guide them to the fountain among the lower yard. With tall hedges to either side, it remained a place of peace and respite, perhaps even contemplation, secluded away from direct view of the graves which surrounded it. The mammalian approached a bench and turned to offer the stranger a seat, before taking his own. The motion caused a momentary flicked of pain, the soreness of strain put upon the affected leg, but was quick to pass once the lepus had sat. As he continued, both hands rested on the cane now, "I can now see the struggle you face with the question you asked. When such terrible tragedies happen to ones so young, it can be truly difficult to carry the weight of such memory. In some light, perhaps even the memory of one's own people."
There was a quiet hum, as the mammalian considered the true depths of such grief. The familiarity of it, yet unique onto itself. At last, he looked up once more, "Perhaps the way to the answer lies in understanding where the question itself comes from.. Would you wish to mourn them? Or do you feel as though there is a reason you could, or should not?" For guilt and grief oft walked hand-in-hand in such matters.
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