The world caves in at the most opportune of moments, it seemed. When one side excelled, the other fell. The equilibrium had always been a scale. A balancing act. For awhile now, it appeared that the Malus family was on the other end, dipping further into the void and accumulating death in their downfall. First Stryker, then Ninazu, and finally Sojourn. It was crippling. Romulus was the only Malus left among the Coalition of the Condemned. He wearily pressed the non-existent beings above for some luck on his side, but as time passed, things never seemed to improve. His own mentality was beginning to crumble. With Aphra gone, many in dire straits, and the rest coming to terms with the changes, he had to lead with his head high.

First, though, to dwell on the past.

In truth, the Kingpin had been hesitant on hosting his sister's funeral. While the rest got theirs promptly, the transition into Sojourn's was long. Every detail had to be concise, clean, and perfect to represent the clear cut idea that, despite her own downfall, she was still special. That she was worth being remembered. That she was... family.

After all this time, the cold hunting grounds on the eastern island was set up for their former leader's funeral. As wanderers walked in, their eyes lit up. Icicles lined the trees, snow fluttered across the sky, and the warm summer breeze was transformed into a winter chill with the help of water and air manipulators. White, wooden chairs laid out for each attendee. Near the front laid a large, soft baby blue casket. While the casket's inside was lined with soft, white velvet, what laid within it was even more surprising. Draped in the finest of white tiger pelts, the damned corpse of the other laid before them. What blood was on her pelt previously had been cleaned off, eyes closed, and all wounds stitched so no soul could see the damage she inflicted.

Romulus stood at the end of the casket. His periwinkle hues looked down at her lifeless body. The memories of her final replaying in his head repeatedly, but every now and then, the good moments breezed past. Sojourn was... complex. There was the bad, but there was also that small, reminiscent feeling of her from the past. Her brother never really truly knew what drove her mad. He tried his best to keep her alive, sane, and stable, even with his own grudges. Yet they were here. She was dead. They were alive. That was the end of things.

He lowered his forehead onto the edge of the wooden casket. His gaze went dark as he squeezed his eyes shut, preventing the rush of emotions from getting to him, and raised up soon after with a wavering sigh. Swallowing, he looked out onto those who began to gather. A paw gestured for them to come forward to say their peace and then move along, but he never truly knew if he would get his own closure.