(Child death tw; grief tw) Over the land there lies a long shadow

[lightofthestars]

In the court among the flowers, a small grave has been made. Next to it, upon a bed-sheet shroud, lies Frisk.

Tauriel and the Batman had worked to make Frisk ready for this funeral. She could not bear the thought of laying them to rest as she had found them, and so together, the two of them had cleaned Frisk's body and dressed them in new clothes. Tauriel had bathed their body in many tears as she had worked, for their wounds were grievous and had surely caused them great anguish. She had need, in the end, to find a cloth to wind around their neck, for nothing could cover the wound that had ended their life.

When the work had been carried out, Tauriel had called as many as she could find of the people of the castle to the garden. She cannot be the only one to say farewell to their dearly loved friend.

Comments

[lovetheme]

There's already plenty of flowers, both in the general area and brought over by a few others. He doesn't really need to bring more, and he knows it. But Lucas does anyway, at some point during everything. There's a large patch of sunflowers growing elsewhere in the garden, more than enough for two tall bundles. He'd managed to find cloth to tie them together with, too, left over from old curtain fastenings in the castle, and he figures he'll have to gather more ties later. For the following days. The flowers will need to be replaced every day.

After three years of practice, it wouldn't really be a new routine anyway.

And maybe he ought to be used to this kind of thing by now, but it's still different. Still a new kind of painful. Maybe that's surprising, but he doesn't know anymore. Everything has already reached a certain stage of numbness, now...

He sets sunflowers at both graves--one bundle for each. And Lucas is entirely silent as the bodies are buried, keeping out of the way to one side even as others drift together, sometimes to console each other. There's plenty of tears all around, plenty of excuse to have a good cry himself, but his eyes stay dry and Lucas wonders if maybe he's gotten a bit too good at not crying, now. It just burns in your chest, instead, and--that's almost worse. But now he couldn't force it out if he tried.

But even after the burial's finished, and others slowly trickle away, he can't help bit drift back to Frisk's grave anyway, and linger, one smaller leftover sunflower still in his hand. Then standing gets tiring, after awhile, and he folds into a crouch, hugging the sunflower to himself, staring blankly at the patch of newly-turned dirt surrounded by flowers. Maybe he's waiting for something. But the burning persists, and the tears still don't come out, and leaving doesn't feel right without that.

[sansational]

Sans feels his soul stutter with dread and alarm at the sight of those yellow flowers, when he first sees Lucas carrying them. He has to make a deliberate effort to hold himself back and take a second look. That second look is at least enough to reassure him that these aren't the same golden flowers, that Lucas really shouldn't know any better, but Sans remains disquieted. One thing on top of another and another.

He'd been meaning to return to the grave as well, after everyone else had drifted away. When Sans does return to find Lucas crouching there, motionless as any skeleton, he hesitates.

Even when he does eventually creep forward, into the clear patch of ground around the freshly turned dirt that he still can't quite believe holds one of his friends, Sans doesn't come too far.

"hey." Words fail him, for a moment, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there are too many things to say and he has no idea where to start. In the end, Sans settles for the eminently neutral, eminently useless: "what are those?"

He jabs a thumb at the flowers.

[lovetheme]

Lucas isn't entirely sure just how long he spends crouching there, waiting for tears that won't even come. Sans's voice emerges like something crossing a wide chasm from a long ways off, between him and the rest of the numb world around, breaking the ringing silence in his ears.

It's a bit surprising, numbly. Lucas had been fairly sure that everyone had gone away already. ...But, no, maybe it's not so surprising after all. Frisk had counted Sans as one of their dear friends early on, the very first conversation they'd had.

There's still a very slight delay, between Sans's question and an actual reaction on Lucas's part; he stirs slowly, like someone half-asleep, and turns his head until he can glimpse the familiar skeleton from the corner of his eye. Unfolding from the crouch is a daunting idea of impossible effort; Lucas doesn't.

"...Hey." It's soft, in a voice that's too small. And it still takes another moment, before the question actually sinks in, following Sans's gesture to the flowers at the grave. "Oh. They're--they're, sunflowers."

Truly, words are terribly hard at the moment. Lucas has the vague feeling this isn't a one-sided sentiment, at least, but there's still another too-long second of leaden silence between them. Lucas focuses his attention on the flowers in question, eyes somewhat glassy. "...They were Mom's favorite kind of flowers."

[lostinmyway]

Grune leaves with Sophie not long after the funeral finishes, taking her to their room and staying with her until Sophie has worn herself out and has fallen asleep. She goes back afterward, to make sure everyone else is all right, and she stays to speak with them all as, one by one, they leave.

But someone doesn't leave, not right away, and not for a long time. Lucas looks very, very sad and alone in front of Frisk's grave. That isn't right. No one should be alone here.

And so she walks over to the grave, kneels down, and sets a hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Lucas."