Copper clutched her throat, coating her mouth in the taste of bitterness and regret. She wanted to swallow, but knew it would do nothing to wash it away. The candles on her grave had long since burnt out, leaving the pair cloaked in comfortable darkness.
Death was an inevitable part of life, and would come for all of them in time, this they knew. You couldn’t survive in this life long if you were afraid to die, but it didn’t make Pakunoda’s death any easier.
Looking at her grave brought all the memories back, every single one. She could remember every detail - the scent of her, her voice, her footsteps, their back and forth. They’d been together constantly.
The copper taste was stomach turning.
She watched in silence as Chrollo gave Pakunoda a gift, and still, no doubt experiencing his own grief look at her, and in those quiet depths she could see a glimpse of pain, but also concern.
She wouldn’t cry for anything. (But that made her want to.)
Multiple individuals affiliated with their kind had become periodically removed from the sort of raw sentiment which threatened vulnerable impulses. The austere figure accompanying him, who so many respected and even owed their lives, was no exception. They hardly underwent such tragedy, instead devastating outsiders with little regard for loss of life, and almost never the reverse.
“Understood.” he murmured, shifting to sit beside her. They remained that way for some time, neither seeming particularly willing to offer good word spoken in Pakunoda’s memory. Now, he thought to himself, wasn’t the correct setting for fond remembrances.
“I wish...I could have been there for you.” Presiding circumstances forced him to remain at a large distance as his loved ones grieved. “And I hope what she shared that day lives on.”
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