01 → anyway fuck ardyn izunia [closed]

[parer]

WHO: Ignis Scientia, Ravus Fleuret, and Ardyn Izunia
WHAT: a lil murder
WHERE: A nice, secluded, forested area
WHEN: Late October
WARNINGS: Violence and Character Death

SUMMARY:

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[errant_knight]

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."

[parer]

Indeed, while he may not be as familiar with the language of flowers as any Tenebraen, sometimes the visuals tell a man all he needs to know, and grace lilies would be a beautiful but unfitting sight in Ignis's hands considering the situation as it is. Still, to see gladiolus instead...

It's apparent, for just a moment. A soft fond little smile down to the famous sword lilies, and the brilliance of their petals.

He had to do this without Gladio by his side. Considering this was a rather spur of the moment sort of thing, an opportunity he hadn't foreseen, it couldn't be helped. Still, with the flowers in his hand... While he knows it's just a sentimental trick of the mind, he does feel indeed a little stronger.

Perhaps just a tad.

"...No, I won't mourn," he says, that brief soft moment gone as he glances down back to the corpse. He really should have put the head fully backwards. "However, while I have no such feelings for the man who lays here now, I will admit that it is still the taking of a life that has occurred today. Whatever the reason may be, there is no denying that simple fact. I was told to keep this in mind, during my training, and it is a lesson I do try to always remember. So, I will follow your example as best I can. And who knows? Perhaps it will have an effect."

And he can stop being such a pain in the ass motherfucker in the afterlife. Ignis has his doubts on that.

"Let me assist in spreading the flower petals. Perhaps a few tucked into that embarrassing coat of his, if only to keep from getting lost in the dirt." And, guided by Ravus on what flowers would perhaps be best or most suitable for this task, that is exactly what he does. For this, he even removes his filth-encrusted gloves so that delicate assassin fingers can pluck the petals neatly from their homes without ruining their delicate beauty. Scattered, tucked away... With his head placed like it is, he still makes a bewildering picture, but the petals class it up at least a tad, he supposes.

After that, there's nothing more he can do but layer the dirt over him. It's not easy with the axe being what it is, but a good bit of it can be resolved just by pushing the dirt along with the blade. It takes time, and perhaps it's not neat, but... Ignis manages.

And more flowers continues to make it look just a tiny little bit better as well.

[errant_knight]

Maybe it's a only a superifical thing, merely a sentiment, but the strength that comes of being reminded of a loved one isn't something Ravus can ever disregard. He's glad to witness that fond smile, before it's back to business.

"It's not a choice to be made lightly. One bears the weight of it the rest of their lives. Until another must take the burden up," Ravus says, as he carefully looks over which flowers to give Ignis to pluck. "Terribly cyclical, but that is the natural order of things."

They lay the petals out, pressed into hands and pockets and folds of cloth. Until the burial must be finished, and Ignis takes up the axe again. Ravus helps as he can, nudging the turned earth back into place, until there's only the remaining flowers to place.

It's as he's arranging them, knelt there on the ground, that he glances over his shoulder. The emotion he wears is carefully controlled, but the sincerity softens his gaze regardless.

"Thank you for humoring me in all of this. I don't know why I feel so sentimental about something that may not ultimately matter. I don't even know if the Beyond exists in this world... But I feel as though I must at least try to hold onto what I have left of my home." The why of it all, he says he doesn't know, but there's more than one side of him that offers insight. Grief, the desperation to cling to the dwindling foundation of everything he's ever loved fading away. But also the low roll of thunder in his mind, dark clouds cresting a hill. The storm isn't so ominous as it is inevitable and sure. The dragon sharing his soul seems to approve too.

"Though it does leave us with the aftermath... What are we to do now? I have a distinct feeling our hosts here will not be pleased."

[parer]

Indeed, Ravus may say he doesn't know, but Ignis is kind enough to not call him out on it. He can't say he understands the feelings completely just yet. All he can say is that... He knows that one day - sooner than later, to the ache of his heart - his hometown will fall, and he will be left adrift.

Ravus has been left adrift for much longer than he. If he can even have this small bit of debris to cling to...

"You needn't worry about our host," Ignis reassures him. While this may have been a crime of convenience in some ways - mostly that it was convenient for him to get Ardyn alone - Ignis is always thinking. He's also had a lot of training and done his own personal research. This means, with all the time he had to hunt down bandits, kill Ardyn, and then start digging a grave, well... He's thought of a decent enough explanation for this.

It's also a complete lie.

With that in mind, he looks over Ravus. "I will be the one to pass along the news of Ardyn's death. I think I may be better suited for it, truth be told." Ravus doesn't seem as though he's built for telling falsehoods. "Why don't you go back to my home, and I will see you there? I can fix us some tea to thank you for coming to look for me, and help with the funeral preparations."