In Loving Memory
Mentions: @ Hans Jenssen-Schäfer
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The days passed by quickly, and sooner than Reyna was expecting, the funeral was here. She glanced in the mirror, her plain black funeral dress on. She could hear her mother attempting to calm herself down before the funeral. She took a deep breath. This was going to be tough but she had to be there for her family and she had to come through with her speech. It was an honor she hadn’t thought she deserved, but wanted to live up to. And she was going to do just that. She found herself an hour later sitting on the hot chair in the summer heat at her grandpa's funeral. She had zoned out what the guy at the front was saying and was trying to calm herself down for the speech. Inhale, exhale. It seemed her efforts would be cut short by the sound of her name ringing in the air. It was time. She slowly pushed her chair back, her heart pounding like the beat of the drum. She locked eyes with her teary eyed mother who gave her a nod and a small smile. That was all Reyna needed to pull her shoulders up high and give herself an air of confidence. You got this. Your grandpa would be proud. She walked up the three steps to the podium and smiled. She took a deep breath and scanned the audience. Many familiar faces greeted her in the audience but also many that she didn’t know. Her eyes locked on a boy with chocolate brown eyes, much like her own and golden brown hair that gleamed in the sun but Reyna tore her eyes off the boy, took one last deep breath and began her speech. “Hi! As many of you guys probably know I’m Reyna Evergreen, the grandchild of Johnny Kim, making him my grandpa. Today we gather to celebrate and honor the life of him, our beloved grandpa, father, and husband we all knew as John. At 70 years old, he left behind a world filled with love, warmth, and kindness. My grandpa was one in a million. As a proud Hufflepuff, like me, he believed in loyalty and hard work, always willing to lend a helping hand or offer a smile to anyone who needed it. He was more than a loving husband to my Grandma Rebecca, or an amazing dad to my mom, Lisa; he was the best grandpa that I could ever have wished for. One of the things I loved most about him was his fascination with healing magic. He spoke a lot about it and instructed me not just in a magical sense, but in life as well. He believed that kindness and compassion were forms of healing, and they could heal hearts and bring people together. From his books, to his little pieces of advice, he has inspired me to become who I am now. Either with a comforting word or a shared laugh, he had a magical power to make everything all right. I can even visualize his eyes lighting up when we spoke of his love for healing spells or when he explained to me how he healed people. He taught me the truth that magic is present in our abilities to care for one another, to heal each other in times of need, and to spread love wherever we may be. As we look back at my Grandpa or John to so many of us, let us hold dear the close memories we created together and the laughter, lessons, and love he brought to our lives. While we all mourn his passing, we are comforted in the fact that his spirit will live on within all of us. Grandpa, you will always be missed but your legacy of happiness and kindness will live on forever and continue to inspire us all. Thank you for being our guiding light, our healer, and our beloved grandpa, father, husband and friend. We love you forever. I want to end off with a quote he would always tell me when he would teach me healing magic. Healing is like a good joke: it takes a little time, but when it lands, it brings everyone together. I hope that while we are healing from this loss, it brings us all together, whether it be family or friends. Thank you guys so much for your time, I hope this helps put a little bandaid across your heart. Thank you!”. Her heart was pounding as the claps came through. She had done it. She hadn’t stumbled. She’d said the whole thing confidently without shedding a single tear. Her whole body was shaking violently and her head was spinning. Reyna gave the crowd of people a small smile and headed back to her seat. She passed by the golden brown haired guy as she took her seat. She had never seen him before which was strange because she had seen most of these people before, as they either went to Hogwarts, or had been around her house at least once. She decided she would go talk to him after this was over. The rest of the speeches passed by quickly, some hilarious, some sad, and some the perfect mix of both. She hoped that her speech had been in the last category. After saying some quick prayers, it was finally time for the main part of the funeral. The burial. His body was laid out in a casket and was carried down the aisle. Reyna wanted to get up and grab her Grandpa’s hand once again but she knew she couldn’t. This was it. This was the last time he would be seen. Once he was buried, that meant he was actually gone. She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. Maybe it was because she had cried so much before, or maybe it was because her grandpa would have wanted her to stay strong. As the coffin passed, Reyna's heart ached with sorrow, a mix of sadness and gratitude. Memories flashed in her mind, laughing over cups of hot cocoa, learning healing magic in the garden, and the warmth of his arms. Each moment serves as a little pat in the back making her sit up straighter each time. She saw her mother, one hand holding her grandmother's, both of them miserable. Reyna wished she could run over to them and comfort them. Now that her grandpa wasn’t there anymore she would have to be the peacemaker, the one that held them together. Previously her grandpa had been the rock, the one that kept everyone on level ground. As the funeral progressed, Reyna's gaze drifted again to the golden-haired boy. From the position she was at she was only able to study the back of his head. But there was something about him that she could not piece together. He radiated so much warmth and kindness off him, something that she found only in her grandpa. Her grandpa who was dead. Tearing her eyes off of him she forced herself to watch the rest of the procession. When the time came for the burial, Reyna's heart was racing in her chest and tears were clogged in her throat. As his body and the casket sank into the earth, she felt a weight in her chest. It was a final goodbye, the one that would seal her grandpa's physical body into the world but not his spirit and soul. That would remain onwards. She got in line to be one of the first few to place flowers by his casket. When it was finally her turn she dropped the yellow sunflowers in her hand, the tears finally welling up. It was time to let him go, time to move on. She knew it wouldn’t be that easy but she had to try. “Goodbye, Grandpa," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the chatter behind her. "I miss and love you so so much. Thank you for everything.” And she slowly took steps back away from the casket and into a new era of her life. |
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Word Count: 1355/200
Last edited by Reyna Evergreen on 12 Oct 2025, 18:56, edited 1 time in total.
In Loving Memory
15/07/25 | John Kim's funeral
When his opa told him they would be making an appearance at a funeral, it wasn’t exactly the surprise Hans had expected. Other than occasional annoyances and fleeting acquaintances, he barely knew anyone from the UK in the first place, much less be close enough to feel comfortable attending their commemoration. Yet he would not simply say no to his grandfather, especially considering there was no harm in his attendance. An old friend, Otto had said simply in explanation, and it was an explanation Hans accepted.
Whatever mattered to his grandfather mattered to him.
Never expecting such an occasion, it was only assumed that Hans would have brought suitable attire. Of course, this meant a shopping trip with Otto, but thankfully a black suit, black trousers, and a black shirt lacked the variation to require them spending endless hours in an aisle. The invite was sudden, Otto had told him, face far more serious than the Opa he knew. Perhaps it had been years already since they last talked, but apparently they had been close during their schooling years and throughout adulthood.
Funerals were not a common sight in Hans’ schedule, but this one was no different from the odd few he had experienced. They were normally a private, intimate matter, and fifty people were already considered well-populated. He had only ever attended the ones for the closest of his family’s friends. Having been young across these sparse attendances he had not had much to do or say but stay close to his parents or grandfather, offering a small, “I’m sorry for your loss” at most.
He was older now, more responsible, and doubtless, he had seen more—things that, regardless of age, no one should have to have seen.
Hans had never enjoyed entertaining the notion of eulogies. Plucking a mourning person out of the comfort of their home and forcing them behind a podium to give a speech about how times were treasured and they’re in a better place seemed like some sort of sick joke, especially at gatherings with this amount of people. There was nothing more Hans loved than being in front of a crowd, yet how this was beneficial to anyone went over his head.
So of course he extended his sympathy when a girl who looked about his age stepped up from her seat. Her hair was golden brown in the light, hazel eyes dulled over by what could have only been grief. Perhaps a general consensus would have deemed her conventionally attractive, yet death was certain to take a toll on anyone, and the desperately pulled up shoulders did nothing to convince Hans of her nonexistent confidence. Stepping up to the podium, it surprised the boy as her eyes landed on his, locking for a brief moment too long. Just before she would tear her eyes away, Hans offered him a small smile. It was no grin he was so well known for, the boy wreathed in sunshine. Albeit sad, he hoped it was reassuring.
“I’m Reyna Evergreen,” she began. “The grandchild of Johnny Kim, making him my grandpa.”
Of course John Kim was a grandfather. That final, two syllable word hit Hans hard, and reminded him whom he exactly was with today. Instinctively, he drew himself closer to his opa, shoulder pressed against his, fingers manoeuvring into his. If one day he lost him, that would be as paralleled as to losing his light, that one person who had always been there to support him, for him to fall back on. His friend for twelve years, the man he could always laugh with. Just the very thought of imagining it unsettled him to his stomach.
Yet still as Reyna spoke, the only thing Hans could think of was Otto in John’s position and he behind the podium. All her other words faded away, their presence only fuelling the terrible images that threatened his vision.
When she collected herself and finished, Hans managed to bring himself to clap with the rest of the crowd, seamlessly jerking himself back to reality. The sound echoed like a storm trying to tear the world down.
As the rest of the eulogies finished and a wave of applause sounded once more, a small queue formed for those willing to place flowers on the casket. Hans stood only at the gesture of his grandfather, following him as they both stepped forward. Instead of getting into the line like his opa however, Hans opted to watch, each person walking with their heads down in their black outfit, faces stricken with grief. It was a scene he simply could not have brought himself to partake in. Leaning on the nearest wall his eyes were grave as trailed his Opa’s steps.
Soon, however, another attendee caught his attention. She too stepped up to the casket, a golden sunflower held in her hands. The flower held close to each mourner’s chest was the only spot of colour in the bleakness of the black suits and dresses, and hers seemed particularly bright. The same girl with honey brown hair and silver specked eyes. The same girl who had delivered that first eulogy. The same girl who he had smiled at. The granddaughter.
And as she stepped away from the casket, soon, she was in front of Hans.
“My condolences,” he said softly, not because he thought it would help, but because he had nothing else to say. Hans pushed himself up and straightened, meeting her eyes with his own of chocolate brown. No one, he found, ever quite knew what to say at a funeral.
Hans could only hope his tone said what words could never manage.
@Reyna Evergreen
banner by Oonagh Brown
banner by Oonagh Brown
you will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again. and i will wait for you.
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
In Loving Memory
Mentions: @ Hans Jenssen-Schäfer
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Each step away from the casket felt freeing, like Reyna was slowly setting down a heavy weight she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying for weeks. The air around her seemed lighter, clearer, as if the world had taken a deep breath with her. But while she was lighter, she felt the last traces of him leaving too. The last trace of his fingers on hers was gone. The warmth, the familiar grip she had once taken for granted had vanished. She was never going to feel his hand resting gently on hers again. No more hugs that smelled of coffee, no more jokes made only for her. Just silence that felt too big for her chest. A soft breeze brushed past her face, and smelled of sunflower. The wind brushed strands of my hair up as if it were trying to reassure her. She closed her eyes and let herself find her ground once again. Then she took a long, final breath and exhaled. Reyna rubbed her palms together. Her fingers brushed against the single sunflower petal she had taken from the bouquet she’d laid beside the casket. The petal’s edges were beginning to curl, but it still comforted her. She turned it over in her hand a few times before tucking it carefully into her pocket. She would keep it safe. She couldn’t lose this, it was one of her last reminders of him, his favorite flower. As she walked away from the long line, she glanced back once more. The casket sat on the dark ground, surrounded by people all dressed in dark colors. Too dark, this wasn't what he would have wanted. She shook her head. He would've wanted her to be there for her family. She tore her gaze away and began heading toward where she knew the reception would take place. The thought made her stomach twist. A reception. How could there be a reception after something like this? How was she supposed to smile politely, shake hands, and murmur, “Thank you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” over and over again without screaming? The words felt meaningless now. What she really wanted was to run home, to her room, to her quiet corner, to her books. She wanted to curl up and read something. Maybe she would finally open her grandpa’s journal. She had been saving it for this moment, even though she had prayed that moment would never come. She stopped mid-step, suddenly unsure of where she was going. That’s when someone spoke. “My condolences.” someone whispered. The words were quiet but close, and Reyna turned, startled. Standing a few feet away was the boy, maybe her age, maybe a teeny bit younger. The same one she had locked eyes with right before giving the speech. The boy with the golden-brown hair and eyes of chocolate. His words, though they were the same words she had received hundreds of times today, made her feel so much better, for a reason that was unknown to her. “Thanks,” she said softly, her throat tight. For a moment, she just stared at him. “I’m Reyna, as you probably know.” She offered her hand automatically, then realized how strange it felt to be shaking hands with someone her own age and at a funeral for that matter. She laughed under her breath, embarrassed, and let her hand drop. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m kind of all over the place today.” In the distance, she could hear faint music drifting from the reception area. Someone had chosen to play the piano, or maybe it was a recording. It was elevator music obviously, not disco party music, because that would be so out of place. She knew she should be there already. Her mother had made it clear that they needed to be among the first to greet everyone, and Reyna could already picture her mom’s anxious face scanning the crowd for her. But Reyna didn’t want to move. Not yet. Not until she knew his name. It felt strange to be standing next to someone who had offered her the only moment of comfort all day, and not even know what to call him other than "the golden haired boy". “Are you heading to the reception, or-?” She left the question hanging, not sure how to finish it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, wishing her hands would stop fidgeting. And why were they so sweaty. She hadn't realized how hard she had been pressing her hands together until now. She tried to shake her hands out and calm herself down. She focused on the cool air. It was cool and heavy, and she could hear the soft crunch of gravel under people’s shoes as they walked towards to the reception. Where she ought to go. More and more people were making there way there. But she wasn't ready quite yet. So instead she wondered how the "golden haired boy" knew her grandpa. Were their families were connected somehow? Maybe their grandfathers had been friends, or maybe they were distant relatives she’d never met. A part of her hoped they were not distant relatives though. She didn’t know why. Her brain was all jumbled up and it was confusing even trying to tear apart thoughts from other thoughts. She shook her head, trying to clear them. Focus. And don’t start crying again. Not here. Although she really didn't have any tears left to cry anyway, they were all gone. Now she just felt hollow. Tired and drained. After a moment of silence, she realized she hadn't said whether she was going. She forced herself to look up at him. “I’m headed to the reception,” Reyna said. Not that saying it aloud was going to make it any easier for her to do. The world didn't work like that. She wished the world worked the way she wanted it to. But if it did, her grandpa would still be alive, and he wasn't. She had to go, she had to accept what had happened. But why was it so hard? |
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Word Count: 1107/200
Last edited by Reyna Evergreen on 21 Nov 2025, 17:41, edited 2 times in total.
In Loving Memory
15/07/25 | John Kim's funeral
“Thanks.”
A single, practiced word of gratitude touched Hans’ ears, one sole syllable he knew yet did not understand. Her words were soft, but pained. Each sound processed in his mind, each letter written out with odd preciseness, yet how twisted the world must be for her thank you to be decorum. How twisted the world must be for gratitude to be delivered after the death of a loved one. He breathed in deeply as Reyna only stared at him, their two eyes interlocking with unsettling stillness. They had seen far different things, but they were both no strangers to pain.
Then, the silence broke and she introduced herself.
“My name is Hans,” he introduced back, then straightened. Pressing his lips into a thin line at the dire circumstances of their meeting, he said little else and found little else to say.
He noticed with a tilt of his head at the hand she offered, perhaps out of instinct. After all, he had seen her do the same with the collection of adults in the funeral. The crowds dressed in a sea of black only prompted him of the fact, a stark reminder of his own loved one’s mortality. Keeping his own arms down at his sides, he did not attempt to shake her hand — he was no adult she needed to greet, for sunshine was magnanimous regardless of its receptor. Curiously, he watched her laugh, then drop it back to her side again. It did not sound bitter, only sheepish.
And then, came the notion that was even more absurd: “Sorry.”
Hans pursed his lips, uncertain how to respond to the sudden apology. It was what people tended to do in states of distress, yet to Hans it was only a further example of the twisted world. How sick it must be to demand an apology out of a girl who had lost so much, and was still, somehow, standing. If anyone should have apologised, it should have been the cruel world for taking away a person Reyna loved as much as her grandfather, for taking away anyone in unfair deaths. Finally, he found the words, simple, concise, never enough—but no long-winded soliloquy would ever be: “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m kind of all over the place today.”
He nodded, as if saying, I can tell, but it’s okay.
Deep chocolate pulled away momentarily from gold-flecked eyes as the sound of music drifted towards the duo, towards the distant halls that was the repast. At the sound of the piano Hans shifted his stance, It felt so wrong against this backdrop of death.
“Are you heading to the reception, or-?”
The words were an invitation to Hans back into the unjust present. No music, just heavy breathing. The reception. What was meant to honour the passed yet what only seemed like a half-hearted attempt at optimism where that should have been none. Funerals were a celebration of life. How wrong that was—it could have been told to a mourning girl like Reyna Evergreen. Hans, brave as he were, failed to fathom the amount of courage it took to stand and deliver a speech in distress as great as Reyna’s, much less attend a reception and socialise. Rampant in the world, funerals were a reminder of death.
Instinctively, Hans searched the gathered for Otto, eyes combing through each figure. Dressed in their black suits, they all seemed to be the same, another mourner with intentions that were good, but intentions only ended there. He came up empty—his grandfather, lost in the crowd, was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was already at the wake, perhaps he had decided against going altogether. But it no longer mattered where Otto was. As much as he needed his grandfather, yearned to spend every other living moment with him, Reyna needed him more.
He watched passively as the girl tucked a strand of hair between her ear, hands fidgeting without stop. Tension and uneasiness radiating off her body, her attempts to calm down were evident, and Hans allowed her the privacy that she should have after all the other attendees’ suffocating reactions. He sighed, directed not at her but their predicament as his eyes flitted away. Running his hand through his hair absentmindedly he glanced back at her, “I don’t suppose there is anywhere else for me to go, Reyna.” There was a reason she had not finished her question.
He had taken a step away to leave before realising the girl in mourning still stood there, thoughts distant as she was pulled away into the maelstrom of grief. He could not imagine what she was thinking of, could not put into words her suffering, and Hans, if there was one thing he knew in this chaos, was that he certainly did not want to. Yet he knew it was inevitable, he knew one day, he too would be forced to face it. The thought flashed in the millisecond of a blink: how would he live without Otto?
He would never accept it, never be as strong as Reyna.
Just as he thought of her she looked up at him again, and Hans too lifted his gaze to meet hers. She seemed to have made her decision as she gathered herself after that moment of silence—silence Hans would have allowed to prolong for however the duration she needed. Her words were simple, yet it sounded as if she had just forced out a rock. They seemed to not only be for Hans’ information; in fact they were not for Hans at all. Solely for herself, she said, “I’m headed to the reception.”
That was enough of a confirmation for Hans.
@Reyna Evergreen
banner by Oonagh Brown
banner by Oonagh Brown
you will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again. and i will wait for you.
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
In Loving Memory
Mentions: @Hans Jenssen-Schäfer
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Hans. That was his name. Reyna was relieved that she knew her name, although in her mind, he would always remain “the golden-haired boy,” the one who she met on this entirely too sad day. Knowing his name made the whole situation feel a little less strange, almost like he was just a friend she was talking to instead of some random person she met at her grandfather’s funeral. She was genuinely glad Hans was going to the reception. She’d already seen a lot of people leave, saying that they had “other matters” to attend to. What other matters could there possibly be? Reyna honestly couldn’t imagine anything more important than a funeral, but I guess people thought differently from her. So, she just silently nodded when he agreed to go. She couldn’t think of anything else to say anyway. The short walk to the reception hall felt incredibly silent. Reyna desperately wanted to ask a question, ask anything really. Something to break the silence, but her mind was utterly and completely blank. As they walked, her ears seemed to make every sound sound so much louder. So loud that it ricochetted off her ears and left her feeling dizzy. The piano music. The crunch of the gravel under her feet. She could even make out the whispers of “I’m so sorry for your loss,” and the sound of people pulling away into corners, to pull themselves together before greeting more people. She promised herself she wouldn’t be like that. She had to stay strong. Then, a real question popped into her head. She turned to Hans as they continued their walk. “How did you know Grandpa-er, John?” she asked, tripping over her words slightly. She wondered if they were distantly related cousins, or maybe their Grandpas had been friends? She had no clue. However, before she could even register his reply, a hand clamped around her arm. “Reyna!” She was pulled away, and maneuvered out of the path. It was her mother. She led her quickly toward a relatively empty corner, giving her no chance to realize she had lost Hans in the process. “You were wonderful,” her mother whispered, her voice strained from crying. “The eulogy was perfect. Your grandfather would have loved it.” Reyna smiled softly, “How are you, Mother?” Her mother let out a slow breath, the only sign of her struggle, other than the tiny smudges of her mascara. “I’m fine. I have a list. The flowers are being taken care of, the catering is settled. I am fine.” Her mother looked her in the eyes, her expression a mix of pride and sorrow. “But please, I need you to help greet people.” Reyna’s shoulders slumped. She nodded her head silently. Of course, the greeting line. The line that never ended. “I was greeting someone when you pulled me away,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Can I go back to the conversation?” Her mother sighed and nodded her head silently. She felt bad. She and Hans were definitely past the stage of “greetings” but Reyna really was not in the mood for greeting anymore people. She hoped her mother would understand. She had greeted hundreds of people now, and she was just plain tired. The people didn’t need greetings, they could entertain themselves. She turned around, scanning the area where she’d last been standing with Hans. She searched the crowd, looking for the golden hair, the one she could easily picture in her mind. She spotted him in a similar area, near the buffet, with the food. He was exactly where he should be. But then there was another problem. Would he want to continue talking to her? She’d been rude, snatched away mid-sentence. He had been so quiet, so respectful of her space. What would he think of her now, after that? However, she desperately wanted to hear the rest of his answer. And also, she would much rather continue the conversation with him, then greet anymore adults. Taking a deep breath, Reyna decided that she would go up to him. After all, it was just Hans. He was her age. He was kind. And he was the only person who wasn’t asking her for something. |
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Word Count: 708/200
In Loving Memory
It was an expected question, of course, but it still surprised Hans that Reyna still had the stomach for small talk. Grief was an all-consuming thing, and the notion of chatter after the loss of someone so dear must have been devastatingly painful. He did not understand how anyone could bring themselves to push through life, much less deliver a speech and then engage in conversation, walking towards a wake where hundreds of people awaited. Yet still he gave a curt nod in response, acknowledging her words with what bordered on admiration. “I never knew John, my grandfather brought me to this funeral. I think they were friends,” he answered plainly, face grave, features unreadable.
The closest time he had gone to losing someone was when Nikolai left. Plagued with question and worry after their final conversation, it had almost felt like a betrayal, though he would never have the heart to call it one. It was a situation as out of control as his Eisprinz’s hands as mortem itself, how he was grappled away from the small, perfect world they had created for themselves. How cuties and unfair he had learnt the world was, how unbearable to live in without the lights that shone like the brightest sun. All that time he had kept telling himself was that he was not dead, and somehow, he had survived those painful, uncertain days of darkness through the repetition of those words.,
Reyna no longer had the privilege of denial. Death was such a definite thing, such a creature so unbelievingly final. Once the heart stops and the body withers away no more words could have been spoken in excuse. There was no coming back from the one way ticket of a train the Reaper forced everyone onto sooner or later. The worst aspect about death was it wasn’t some temporary parting, but a forever one had to accept now without a loved one.
Then, in a flash, just after Hans had spoken, a woman rushed forward, clamping onto Reyna by the arm. Bring snatched away, barely waiting for Hans to have finished his sentence, he was about to step forward in objection when he realised the similarities in their facial structures—she was probably family; she was probably her mother. Did that make her the passed man’s daughter? Having one’s father cruelly snatched away like John was must have been heartbreaking, soul shattering. With that in mind, he supposed he could not quite blame Reyna’s mother to pull her away—after all… they were family.
Family mattered more than anything, especially after one of them had left. Whether blood or not as long as they were accepted often they were all one had in life and it was of the essence to cling onto them in times of distress. Hans would have understood if Reyna stayed with her mother. In the chaos he did not find her sudden leaving rude, just disappointing, and more so, worrying. But being with family, he told himself, was for the best. After all, he didn’t even know her grandfather—what comfort could he provide? Just another failed case like Irina or Meiyu.
And so they had lost each other in the throngs of people. He began to aimlessly walk around the crowded space, only then realising the utter amount of people at a gathering meant to be intimate—and realising he, too, was out of place, completely disconnected from the family’s business. He was about to gather himself and leave…
But he saw her again, and they made eye contact, and before Hans could react, she was walking towards him.
@Reyna Evergreen | Banner by Oonagh Brown
you will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again. and i will wait for you.
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
In Loving Memory
Mentions: @Hans Jenssen-Schäfer
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Reyna had managed to catch the end of Hans’ reply before she was snatched away. His grandfather had been friends with hers. It made perfect sense, since she had never seen Hans before this meeting. She wondered how her grandfather and his had become friends. History was always interesting to Reyna. However, she was not quite sure that Hans would know such a thing. Furthermore, it was not her place to ask, for more details. Yet, she still found herself leaving her mother’s grasp, and her ask of greeting more people, to wander over and find Hans once again. Reyna merely could not stand greeting anymore people and she felt Hans understood that. At least if she was with Hans, her mother would think she was greeting someone. Yes, she felt bad for deceiving her mother, but she hoped she would understand. As she made her way over to Hans once again, they met eyes, and she gave him a small smile. It was faint, but it was genuine. For the first time that day, it felt like an action she was choosing for herself, not one expected of her. “I’m sorry,” Reyna said quietly once she reached him, her voice low enough to be swallowed by the noise, of people chatting around them. “My mother, she wants me to greet more people, always…” she paused and said her next words carefully, “even if I’m tired and she worries if I’m not constantly… present.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” “They must have been close,” she continued after a pause, glancing briefly toward the photograph of her grandfather near the front of the room. His smile was beautiful, and every part of her ached to see it again but she pushed that thought away. “Your grandfather and mine, I mean. He didn’t talk much about old friends, but when he did… it was always fondly.” Her fingers twisted together, and she picked at her nails. She had stopped this nervous habit, but it seemed it was back at her again. Reyna still got nervous, scared, sad, talking about her grandfather. It hurt, like pressing on a bruise, painful, but was somehow grounding. Words were powerful in that sense. “Thank you for coming,” she added, softer now. “Even if you didn’t know him. It still… matters.” For a moment, the noise of the funeral seemed to fade into the background. Reyna realized that standing there with Hans, she could breathe a little easier. She did not have to perform her grief or explain it. She could simply exist in it, with someone who understood what it meant to lose a light and be left in the dark. |
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Word Count: 450/200
In Loving Memory
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Hans said immediately at her quiet whisper of remorse. If he had been a foot farther he would not have picked up on her apology, but here he was, close enough to hear her heartbeat, much less her words. If it were any faster, and stronger, it would have jumped out of her black dress. She continued after swallowing, words almost lost to the chatter of people who seemed as if they did anything but care. She explained her mother’s worry, and Hans felt a heaviness settle over her shoulders. A distraught woman who had just lost her father, and an even more distraught daughter. Death was a cruel thing, yet grief was incapable of existing without loved. Yet mankind still cherished, still treasured, still adored. They granted part of their soul to someone in spite of knowing they may pass anytime.
“They must have been close,” Reyna mused. Hans made no comment, only staring out into the mess of noise and food until his eyes returned to hers, and he paused with brief hesitation before running his hand through his hair and nodding, the gesture faint and distant. It may have been a cruel truth to admit so crudely, but John did not matter to Hans, his death at most a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. Still, he did not know Kim. He, however, did know Reyna, however much one could know of another in the mere moments since they had met, troublesome with disruptions and grief. Yet it was in this moments that Hans felt as if he had never known anyone better. It was something in the way Reyna poured her heart out, not in her words, but in her actions.
“Thank you for coming.”
Her words were gentler now. “Least I could do,” Hans replied — the response, again, almost instantaneous. To anyone else, they may have seemed faux, rehearsed, yet with Reyna so close to Hans they could have felt each others deep intakes and exhales of breath, she would have no doubt seen otherwise on his features. There was a soft furrow to his brow, the action carrying no anger nor distaste but a worrying concern. There was a barely visible downturn to his lips, carrying a sadness he did not quite know, yet desperately tried to condole. There was a tender glint in his eyes, expressing without words his care, even to a stranger. Even to a stranger, a stranger was still a human, and like any other human, she loved, and she lost.
“It still… matters,” Reyna said, and Hans pondered. For a moment, he did not speak, did not move as they both settled in the quietude of grief. By no means was he content dressed in his black, white flower tucked into his suit pocket, yet he was almost comfortable standing there was Reyna, who finally lowered her mask and her defences, showing him the girl. The grieving girl.
Eventually: “Yes… it does.”
@Reyna Evergreen | Banner by Oonagh Brown
you will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again. and i will wait for you.
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht
Archer Duncan | Anthonie Engelbrecht