01-09-2021, 06:48 PM
CAUSE EVEN BLOOD WILL RUN, LIKE THE TEARS OF A SAINT !
If Aurum wasn't going to cry, Arrow would.
Coming to terms with someone's death was one thing. She'd had enough moments in solitude to mourn, of course, but she didn't recall ever having to come face to face with her grief during any sort of funeral. She'd been there when Vigenere and Morgan took off initially, leaving Crow in charge, but she hadn't been there in his brief return, or his murder. The details were unclear, and she didn't want to know, so she didn't ask. It would have just added to the weight of it all, and it was heavy enough knowing he'd been taken out rather than going out on his own terms.
She probably could have stood up and said something, but she wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure if she could have physically done it. She wasn't even expecting to see a ceremony, period. Arrow inhaled sharply, dragging a paw over her face in a manner that could only be viewed as unabashedly stressed, looking as if she'd aged several years in that one moment with how tired she came across. She felt old, as she was poked relentlessly in the background with various memories from her own youth, sights and sounds all felt like hell.
"What a way to go, and I can't even drink in your name." Arrow muttered, stumbling uneasily to the burial site as if she already had several drinks, shaking her head. She lowered her body to the ground, tucked her legs under her chest, and dropped her chin to the dirt, staring at nothing in particular as her vision unfocused. "Vig, I outta kick your ass-" Her voice broke, and she knew she was already crying by the feeling against her face. It felt foreign, she just didn't cry. It wasn't in her code to be overly emotional. Guess she had a breaking point eventually. Was she crying just for Vigenere, or for everyone she wasn't gonna ever see again? Why was she here? Life was a bitch, and so was death, apparently.
If Aurum wasn't going to cry, Arrow would.
Coming to terms with someone's death was one thing. She'd had enough moments in solitude to mourn, of course, but she didn't recall ever having to come face to face with her grief during any sort of funeral. She'd been there when Vigenere and Morgan took off initially, leaving Crow in charge, but she hadn't been there in his brief return, or his murder. The details were unclear, and she didn't want to know, so she didn't ask. It would have just added to the weight of it all, and it was heavy enough knowing he'd been taken out rather than going out on his own terms.
She probably could have stood up and said something, but she wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure if she could have physically done it. She wasn't even expecting to see a ceremony, period. Arrow inhaled sharply, dragging a paw over her face in a manner that could only be viewed as unabashedly stressed, looking as if she'd aged several years in that one moment with how tired she came across. She felt old, as she was poked relentlessly in the background with various memories from her own youth, sights and sounds all felt like hell.
"What a way to go, and I can't even drink in your name." Arrow muttered, stumbling uneasily to the burial site as if she already had several drinks, shaking her head. She lowered her body to the ground, tucked her legs under her chest, and dropped her chin to the dirt, staring at nothing in particular as her vision unfocused. "Vig, I outta kick your ass-" Her voice broke, and she knew she was already crying by the feeling against her face. It felt foreign, she just didn't cry. It wasn't in her code to be overly emotional. Guess she had a breaking point eventually. Was she crying just for Vigenere, or for everyone she wasn't gonna ever see again? Why was she here? Life was a bitch, and so was death, apparently.