Ravus comes back with an abundance of wild flowers in his arms. To most, it'd probably seem excessive, but Ravus wears an expression that suggests he feels they are not nearly enough. Or maybe it's that he is focused, eyes trained on a few particular ones he keeps gingerly pinched between his fingers. While the rest are more or less bundled in his arms.
"Admittedly, I do not know the local flora quite as well as I might Tenebrae's, yet I've found some similarities. Enough that I think I have the right of the art." Because flowers, their meanings, and their purposes, are certainly an art form. Ravus is terribly uncreative, but he's observant enough to recall the meanings he's seen over the years.
He sets down most of them at the side of the crudely dug pit, but keeps the specific ones he has been frowning over. They're not quite right, but the color is there. So he turns to Ignis, and tucks a few into his hand. On short stems are bright orange blooms, round and bursting from the center with tiny petals. The others Ignis will likely recognize as wild gladiolus stems, the flowers only just starting to unfurl. Likely the last before the frosts set in.
"It is customary to give particular flowers to those at the graveside. I know you will not mourn, and do not expect you to, so I forwent the usual gift of grace lilies. Instead, these are for strength, and the will to carry forward always." The look he flashes Ignis before he turns away isn't quite sheepish, but it is... something. A mix of emotions, perhaps. It's hard to tell what he's meant to feel at any given point, let alone a makeshift funeral. So he puts his attention to the physical task of plucking the petals of some of the other flowers, and scattering them over Ardyn's body.
"I'm not going to ask why his severed head has that sort of expression." Because even with Ardyn's head askew, Ravus doesn't miss the... concerning, frozen look there. "But as to your question: both. A scattering of petals to guide the soul to the Beyond. And flowers atop the grave to encourage new life to follow in place of the loss."
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"Admittedly, I do not know the local flora quite as well as I might Tenebrae's, yet I've found some similarities. Enough that I think I have the right of the art." Because flowers, their meanings, and their purposes, are certainly an art form. Ravus is terribly uncreative, but he's observant enough to recall the meanings he's seen over the years.
He sets down most of them at the side of the crudely dug pit, but keeps the specific ones he has been frowning over. They're not quite right, but the color is there. So he turns to Ignis, and tucks a few into his hand. On short stems are bright orange blooms, round and bursting from the center with tiny petals. The others Ignis will likely recognize as wild gladiolus stems, the flowers only just starting to unfurl. Likely the last before the frosts set in.
"It is customary to give particular flowers to those at the graveside. I know you will not mourn, and do not expect you to, so I forwent the usual gift of grace lilies. Instead, these are for strength, and the will to carry forward always." The look he flashes Ignis before he turns away isn't quite sheepish, but it is... something. A mix of emotions, perhaps. It's hard to tell what he's meant to feel at any given point, let alone a makeshift funeral. So he puts his attention to the physical task of plucking the petals of some of the other flowers, and scattering them over Ardyn's body.
"I'm not going to ask why his severed head has that sort of expression." Because even with Ardyn's head askew, Ravus doesn't miss the... concerning, frozen look there. "But as to your question: both. A scattering of petals to guide the soul to the Beyond. And flowers atop the grave to encourage new life to follow in place of the loss."