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01 → anyway fuck ardyn izunia [closed]

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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"My eyes make no mistake in what they see, Ravus." Because what else but a sweet man would say so readily that he would take the blood beneath his nails and dirt up to his knuckles, if he asked it?

Ignis is unsure of there is anything sweeter than such devotion. At least, he hopes it is as sweet to others as it tastes on his tongue, for he too knows no other way to be. Nothing but the willingness to leave ashes in his footsteps, and never-ending bloodstains beneath his fingertips.

And yet there is a task at hand. So as Ravus turns back to the corpse, Ignis turns back to its hole, and continues to push past the stubbornness of earth. In truth, it is not so bad as it could be. It gives way to his blade even more gently than Ardyn's flesh had, soft and fertile, waiting for the last stage of life to be buried beneath is to that the first could begin anew.

Because of this, he is able to pay some mind to what Ravus does. Not enough to get an exact idea of what exactly he is doing with his hands, certainly, but enough to hear the words. To understand a bit of the Tenebraen he says.

It really is a beautiful language. In another life, perhaps he would have had the chance to hear it more often - bonds between Lucis and Tenebrae kept strong, visits allowed to happen freely, friendships to flourish. In another life, the Empire never would have attacked it, and he could have seen a place only known through pictures and Noctis's stories.

In another life, would he have been able to hear these words said quietly in more peaceful deaths, and understand them more fully?

In another life, would he have gotten to know Ravus sooner?

Just idle ponderings. What's more important is that he does not interrupt Ravus, save for the repeated thunk and shift of his axe into the dirt. Ignis keeps working even long after Ravus has fallen silent, just to make sure that he isn't interrupting any particularly important pauses.

"...I feel my Tenebraen is lacking, especially with less time to keep up on my studies in recent months due to circumstances, but... The sentiment was beautiful, Ravus."

There's a surge of aching want in him that's so hard to swallow down that he's glad he's turned away from Ignis to pray. Those eyes see him all too well, do they?

His conversation with Gladio comes to mind in the worst ways. How Ravus was only moments from knowing the sacrifice Ignis will make in Altissia. And all of him screams to reach for Ignis as he does, to lay his palms, clean and free of blood and grave dirt, on his skin. To let the pads of his fingers trace the delicate skin of his eyelids, and the soft rings beneath his eyes. To tell him to cherish that belief so deeply. To tell him that he's right before he can never truly know again.

But he can't. He doesn't. He swallows down the fervent desire, and keeps to his task. One that evokes more painful memories, more dull yearning aches. Missing home. Missing his mother's voice. Even missing the somber air of a funeral. A proper one. Maybe one day he'll give Ardyn more than just the blessing of a leftover heir to the Oracle's line. Perhaps he'll need to ask Charlie about the customs of the dead in this land.

But that's a task for later. Right now, he's done about all he can. Glancing back at Ignis, Ravus makes to stand. He really should gather Ardyn's missing head for burial too. But before that, he comes up beside Ignis, and waits for a natural pause in the digging. While he does, he gives a thoughtful hum.

"That you know Tenebraen at all is surprising. Well, rather, given it's you, it's less so. But in the general sense. The language isn't common at all outside of our borders... It does my heart no small joy to know another might speak it with me again." The few he might have ever had the chance are dead or gone now.

"Death should be tender," Ravus says, glancing to Ardyn's body. "To ease the path of life. My mother used to say that. I think because as the Oracle, she saw the endless suffering of all who begged her aid. But even so, I find it a sentiment worth continuing. It's the same prayer she would give to those she couldn't save."

"I thought it would be useful, once upon a time." Because Noctis was to go to Tenebrae. Noctis would need to know the language better, use it to communicate with new friends, and wasn't that what he was there for? Wouldn't that make Noctis so happy, if he had someone who could translate for him anything that would need translating?

That was why he picked up the lessons for Tenebrae in addition to everything else, always hungry to learn more and add to himself. It was the argument he had tried to use with his teachers, and then with Glaives, His Majesty, when the date of the visit drew near. Anything to come with Noctis.

But he'd been let down, sometimes gently, sometimes more blunt. His education needed him there in the crown city, and his Tenebraen was still very new and clumsy then. Better for others more skilled to help if need-be, and, besides, the Tenebraen royal family knew Lucian as well. Best for him to stay behind. Less people to watch over, when His Majesty and Noctis were the ones who needed all of that as it was. They'd been inconsolable at the time, of course, but... There was nothing to be done for it.

The terror and grief he'd felt when he'd heard of what happened in Tenebrae, eavesdropping on those older than him, had been... indescribable.

And Ravus, having been there to experience it all firsthand, him and Noctis and Lady Lunafreya...

He won't pretend his feelings were more intense.

So he doesn't say much more on the matter, besides a simple, "I simply kept up with the studies. I'm glad that they will be of use to you, in that case, although I hardly call myself an expert." His gaze follows Ravus's back to the corpse waiting behind them. "So best that you are here to pass along such kind wishes along best." Both in the case of speaking Tenebraen fluently, and also because Ignis would just kick Ardyn's corpse into the hole and be done with it.

Alas.

....He supposes he could still do it. "Do Tenebraen funerals involve flowers...? I do not know the rites properly, I am afraid, but perhaps you could gather a few to put with him while I lay him to rest within the grave."

"It's never without use, even if there are more practical things one could apply themselves too." Ravus glances off, perhaps touched by the idea there's someone else to share something so deeply personal with him. "If you wish to persist in said studies, you do now have a native speaker to assist you."

At the mention of flowers, Ravus laughs. Short, more of a bark of a sound than anything too hearty, but an actual amused sound nonetheless.

"Do they ever. The mountains practically burst into color along their faces come the warm months. No event in Tenebrae can proceed without every surface being decorated in them. In great joy or deep sorrow." Ravus swivels his head to look about for any sign of such vibrancy, and does spot a few blooms leading back towards the road. Good, he'll head that way. But first...

First, he brushes his hand along Ignis' forearm, fingers squeezing down in a gentle, but firm hold.

"Don't press yourself merely because you will be out of my sight. You've done enough work as is, though I know you will persist further still. You will worry our elderly escorteds if I must carry you back in my arms." Already, he's going to have to figure out an explanation for them and Charlie. That said, he brushes past Ignis on the trail of those flowers, and takes to gathering what he can find along the road.

To even earn the smallest idea of a laugh, one not even negative either, is surprisingly enough to alleviate some of the weight in his heart. Surely, if Ignis can have him laughing like this at a makeshift funeral, then there is hope for - something. He's not wholly sure what. It's simply a good sign.

And best a good sign before that hand squeezes down on him, the Oracle's blood prevalent even here as he feels that carefully reined strength in such a grasp. "I will do more than is necessary," he promises Ravus quietly, although, of course, he knows that what he thinks of as such may be something they disagree on. It doesn't really matter, in the end. All that matters is waiting for Ravus to disappear somewhat slightly down the road.

And then he casts an unimpressed look upon Ardyn's corpse.

Really, such a troublesome man. Now he's going to have to do some effort for his burial. Ah well. There is no helping it. All Ignis can do is reach down to grab the pathetic corpse by its ankles, and drag it over to deposit it.

When Ravus returns, Ignis has Ardyn's head dangling by the hair as he tries to lower it to some place vaguely balanced by his neck. "This will have to do," he says, when its still a bit of a lopsided placement. In fact, one might almost say that Ardyn's face is purposefully set to the side, so no one has to see his particular expression before it's all buried in the dirt. Pushing himself up onto his feet, Ignis claps dusted hands together. "Do the flowers go with the body, or atop the grave? Once I know which, I can begin the burial."

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."

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.

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."

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."

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