[size=9pt]Moon'd watched it all from afar. The outline of Lazarus' slumped figure against the sky, Gabriel tearing at the ground mindlessly. Not even the sight of the hybrid trembling under his son's weight was enough to bring him forward. One could argue it was out of respect-- maybe Gabe needed to do this alone. But the reality was that Moon didn't know what to say. It scared the shit out of him. He was good at quips, he was good at jokes, but what the fuck kind of shit could he spew that could possibly help Gabe, now, with his kid rotting in the ground just a few feet under?
Eventually, he did come, though. Silent, he walked to Gabe's side and stood there, jaw set tight as he listened to the whistle of the wind, the sound of the dirt landing on Lazarus' body. After a moment of suffocating paralysis where he stood staring at the pile of dirt and wondering if it was even his place to do this, if he was even fucking worthy, the lion took a pawful of the dirt in his palm. He walked to where the ground dipped inward, where the canine lay, gradually fading into the earth, and, so carefully he must of pulled a muscle, poured the brown dust over his disappearing figure. He willed it to land softly but the world wasn't kind like that. It hit his body with a resounding thump.
"He was good." Says Moon, hushed, once the silence and the debilitating need to comfort becomes too much and he caves. The stagnant air surrounds them, threatens to push his words back down his throat. "You made it good for him."
Eventually, he did come, though. Silent, he walked to Gabe's side and stood there, jaw set tight as he listened to the whistle of the wind, the sound of the dirt landing on Lazarus' body. After a moment of suffocating paralysis where he stood staring at the pile of dirt and wondering if it was even his place to do this, if he was even fucking worthy, the lion took a pawful of the dirt in his palm. He walked to where the ground dipped inward, where the canine lay, gradually fading into the earth, and, so carefully he must of pulled a muscle, poured the brown dust over his disappearing figure. He willed it to land softly but the world wasn't kind like that. It hit his body with a resounding thump.
"He was good." Says Moon, hushed, once the silence and the debilitating need to comfort becomes too much and he caves. The stagnant air surrounds them, threatens to push his words back down his throat. "You made it good for him."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]