22 Dec 2021, 01:22
We Only See Each Other At Weddings And Funerals
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| ── | "She's in a better place", people were murmuring. Hands stroked Draven's face, arms pulled him into hugs he didn't feel. He let them. Maybe they needed to think they were comforting him to deal with their grief. A grief which hadn't yet sunk in. Draven was staring wordlessly at the open casket. His sister was lying in it, wearing her favorite black and white dress. Draven stull remeembered the day she'd brought it home from Diagon Alley. She'd stumbled through the doors of the manor with a brown paper parcel cradled in her arms, hair disheveled and red blooming across her cheeks, out of breath, her cloak hanging weirdly off her shoulders. "Dray look what Mr. Darcy gave me!" she'd squealed, tossing her broom in a corner of the entry way. "It's a dress! An original design by Dahlias, it must have cost a small fortune!" Draven hadn't put his book down soon enough, because she'd snatched it from him as she was pulling on the dress, brown paper torn to shreds and lying underneath a table (along with her collection of mismatched shoes). "Help me zip it up" she'd urged, pulling her hair out of the way. Only a month ago, Iris had stood in front of her full length mirror, admiring the black and white dress. The way the fabric cascaded down from her hips and wrapped like fog around her waist. "I feel like a princess" she'd breathed, gingerly caressing the butterfly wings which were fluttering serenely around her bust. "You look a princess" Draven replied. Now, the rosy glow were gone from her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, and the cherry red in her lips had faded to corpse black. Even the butterflies had stilled, lying motionless across her chest, as unmoving as Iris. Draven couldn't pull his eyes away from them. They seemed to know now was not the time. They seemed to know something had gone terribly wrong. That the heart of their owner would never beat again. "She wouldn't want us to be sad", a voice said from behind him, pulling him into a one sided hug. Draven didn't respond. What could he say? Stupid phrases. Stupid words that didn't mean a thing. Stupid sentiments that didn't help his sister. Even in death, she was breath takingly beautiful. Lying in the wooden box amongst a sea of white roses, their petals scattered in ebony hair and upon ivory skin. Across the courtyard, Abbadon and Draven exchanged a glance. The two men were on opposite sides of the clearing his family had gathered to mourn in. His sister was resting peacefully in the middle, golden sunlight caressing her. "She'd want us to be devastated, actually." Draven said |
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ITS STILL RAINING. WHY IS IT STILL RAINING? sta • 13 | eva • 8 | str • 1 | wis • 15 |arc • 7 | acc • 9 |