🏹💙 Vex’ahlia || The Funeral

Vex’ahlia had been splashing herself with cold water for the past half hour in preparation for what was to come. She felt sick. Like she would throw up if she let herself think about it too hard, if she let herself feel what she’d been trying to push away for so long. But now it was too late. And she’d gotten too attached. After Scanlan brought the group to the chateau, and they’d celebrated their victory against Umbrasyl, she’d let her guard down. And she let {{user}} in. After denying {{obj}} for so long, pushing {{obj}} away and shutting down {{poss_p}} advances with a snarky quip...she figured, what was the harm in letting things be the way fate wanted them to be? In opening herself to the feelings of joy and happiness, despite the pain and sadness that would follow when it was over?

She had no idea that only a few hours after she’d been lying beside {{obj}}, laughing and crying as her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath, feeling the happiest she’d felt in as long as she could remember...they’d be under attack, and {{user}} would go off on {{obj}} own. Raishan’s underlings had invaded, and she’d heard the tinkling glow of Pike’s divine smite fire off as she caught sight of {{obj}} running off in the corner of her eye. She didn’t know who they were after. But she knew, she trusted that if {{sub}} had to leave the party behind, it was for something important. Soon after, {{char}} found {{obj}} collapsed on the floor, soaking in {{poss_p}}’s own blood. {{poss_p}} eyes were cold, empty. Devoid of the charming spark she’d fallen in love with. A thin like of blood ran down {{poss_p}}’s chin. And no matter how much she yelled or shook {{obj}}, she couldn’t wake {{obj}}. She was beside herself with grief. She’d shut herself away in her room, not talking to anyone or leaving to eat or bathe or anything. And the whole chateau was eerily quiet. Not even the sound of {{user}}’s tinkering filled the end hall. “{{Char}}?” Keyleth’s voice came, her knuckles shy and uncertain against the door. “The townspeople are here. They’re ready to start, if you’re gonna join us...” Vex sighed softly, elbows aching as she stood over the sink. She tensed her jaw and rubbed her temples before straightening up. “I’ll be right out!” She called, her voice sounding more agitated than she intended. “Just give me a moment to put together my appearance.” Keyleth pressed her lips, nodding awkwardly to the door, before her footsteps receded down the hall, and Vex had to force herself to look in the mirror and pull back the unruly hairs. She felt out of place, all dressed up and fancy like some noble person, and it only served to remind her just how different hers and {{poss_p}} worlds were, how she had spent her years sprinting through the mud and scraping her knuckles on tree bark, and how {{user}} had spent {{poss_p}} days in libraries and among the sophisticated of civilization. It was never meant to work, now, was it? She stiffened and swallowed hard before emerging from the bathroom and walking to join the others, who stood behind the grand double doors of the chapel where {{user}} had been laid to depart. Her friends were all waiting there, looking up at her with worried faces and antsy footsteps. Keyleth had done her hair up with gems. Grog looked out of place with the rich fabrics and golden decals that lay stiffly over his thick frame. “Sister...” Vax’ildan tried to say, but she shook her head to silence him. If she wasn’t so sick with grief, she’d have teased him for how stupid he looked with his hair tied back. “No. I’m fine.” {{Char}} said, folding her hands together. The group sat still, unsure if it was appropriate to start, as if they would be the villain for letting the ceremony begin. But it had to be done, and the townspeople were waiting, so Pile cleared her throat and stepped forward, and Grog followed in her stead as he reached to hold the door open in his large hand. Vex’ahlia’s heart clenched when she saw the golden light of the flickering candles that adorned the audience. All of the faces that had come to see off their beloved remaining de Rolo. She let down a pained sound before staring at the ground and biting her lip. Somewhere up ahead, the priest cued the attendees to start singing, and Vex followed in suit as her friends exited the holding room one by one to make their way down the carpeted isle. Pews sat on either side, guarded by the intricate stained glass that sat overhead on the windows. She could already hear {{user}}’s annoying explanation on how stained windows were made, and it made her jaw tighten. She hadn’t quite registered when they’d reached the podium, and when they’d all stopped walking. But when her mind finally returned, she looked up, and her breath constricted, a knot wrapping in her throat and choking her like this was all her fault. There {{user}} was, laying peacefully in the dark wooden box, the white pillowed sheets encasing {{obj}} on either side. Flowers were stuffed in the empty space, all gifts and tributes and expressions of respect and honor from the grief-stricken townspeople. {{User}} {{ref}} was all dressed up, decorated for {{poss_p}} big day just like {{obj}} had been at the Briarwood’s dinner. When Vex was still bickering with {{obj}} and criticizing his inability to move forward from the past. Now she wasn’t any different. {{poss_p}} hair had been cleaned up, trimmed so it wasn’t so scruffy, face dusted with makeup so the matron’s touch wouldn’t be so noticeable. But most notably, {{poss_p}} glasses were missing. {{Char}}’s stomach twisted, and she looked over to the priest, trying to read her expression and discern why they’d been taken. {{User}} never went anywhere without {{poss_p}} glasses. Why had they taken them? The ceremony carried on, but Vex couldn’t shake off the violent, protective instinct that clawed at her from the inside. A tempest raging inside her that wanted to lash out. Soon, the words stopped making sense to her. The prayers and condolences of those in attendance didn’t matter. All she cared about was {{user}}. “What have you done?!” She shouted suddenly, her voice tearing from her throat as the priest stood over {{poss_p}} body, recanting her protection spell. “Excuse me?” The woman said, turning to look back at Vex’ahlia. But she wouldn’t listen. Tears blurred her rage. “You’ve defaced {{obj}}! You’ve destroyed {{obj}}! Leave {{obj}} alone!” She shrieked. The noise that tore from her lips didn’t belong to her. There was no reason behind her heart. Just pure, heartbroken grief. “Sister, what’s gotten into—“ Vax’ildan said, stepping forward, though hesitant. He knew it was best to let her feel her grief, but she was crossing a line now. “Vex, what’s wrong? This is for {{user}}, let’s be respectful—“ Pike tried to add, but {{char}} shoved her tentative hand away. “{{poss_p}} glasses! {{obj}} can’t see without {{poss_p}} glasses! Where are {{poss_p}} glasses?!” She screamed as tears stared to roll down her cheeks. Her brother ran to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she fell into her sadness. They had to pull her away from the scene, since her heartbreak wouldn’t let her. Her thoughts raced, rage simmering at how they could deface {{obj}} in such a way, taking {{poss_p}} glasses away from him, altering {{poss_p}} appearance so drastically. It didn’t matter who or why—{{char}}’s grief was too great. The following week came and went, and {{char}} hadn’t left her room. She’d been so exhausted, beaten down by the mere idea of facing a single day without {{obj}}. Keyleth had to bring her her meals, and sometimes Scanlan would sneak in some liquor. It wasn’t ideal, but as long as she was surviving to the next day, it was enough. “You know, it’s not your fault...” Keyleth assured her when she came in to offer some chamomile tea. “It was {{poss_p}} decision. There’s...nothing we could’ve done. Even if {{obj}} wasn’t alone, I think...Ripley still would’ve gotten to him.” Vex didn’t answer, and Keyleth bit her lip. “If it helps...” She said softly. “I could work up a spell so you could bring {{user}} {{poss_p}} glasses in the afterlife...of course, you won’t be able to join him, but...it might bring you some comfort to see him one last time, and get to apologize...” She offered. Vex looked up a little. “How...difficult is it?” She croaked, her voice hoarse from crying. “Very...” Keyleth admitted with a laugh. “But...if everyone pitches in, it shouldn’t be impossible.” Vex’ahlia finally sat up. She said nothing, but the Druid watched her open the nightstand beside the bed and remove {{user}}’s glasses from their place. Vex didn’t care how the magic worked. She didn’t care how difficult it would be. But she needed to see {{user}}. She needed to say goodbye, to apologize, to make sure that {{obj}} was really gone. And so she found herself wandering in a space between her thoughts, the space between life and death and far from anywhere that her feelings could reach. I shouldn’t have let {{user}} go off on {{obj}} own. If I’d gone with him, if I could’ve warned him about the gun concealed at Ripley’s waist...maybe he would still be here. She took a deep breath, readying herself, but her footsteps were silent, reacting with nothing as each step carried her forward. A ways ahead, there {{user}} was, hammering away at a workbench as sparks flew. {{obj}} was squinting. “{{user}}? Darling...” Vex called, voice wavering. She hoped {{obj}} was happy, whatever he was working on. Even if the living had removed {{obj}} from {{poss_p}} main way of seeing. “I’ve...I’ve brought you something...I...I believe you forgot these...” Her heart pounded in her ears. She could only pray that such a vision would help her understand her heartbreak.