W h a t - d e a t h - d o e s
(Death: \'deth\ n.
the process of dying, the end of life;
the state of being dead;
ending;
destruction)
Alexandria wept for its queen.
Or so it seemed, anyway. The torrential downpour that battered the stone turrets and slicked the streets in perpetual wetness had not ceased for weeks. Puddles evolved into pools, formed by tendrils of tricking streams that snaked between cobblestones and drip-drip-dripped from the rooftops. The world was washed in tints of silver and grey and nothing was ever silent.
The citizens talked. Some said the abnormal weather was due to a shift in the moons. Some said the gods were punishing them for the war. Some said Alexandria had been cursed by the angry Eidolons. Some said it was a natural occurrence that was taking longer than usual to disperse. Most, however, blamed the relentless rain on the queen's disposition. So loved was she to all, that even the weather bowed to her whim and mirrored her mood.
The queen was sad and so was the sky.
The world wept for her.
Garnet looked at her hands, pale and trembling. Rain pattered her skin and soaked her hair, made the hem of her dress heavy and uncomfortable. She wished for her orange breeches and sturdy, leather boots that denied the elements access. The dainty slippers that adorned her feet were already slick and made walking precarious.
Yet what was danger to someone like her now? Someone who had traversed the world - and another - and fought battles against beast and man alike?
She stared up at the heavy clouds. Rain filled her eyes and replaced the tears that could fall no more.
"Princess!"
The rain hammered on his armour; almost deafening. Garnet wondered how he could bare it at all.
"Princess!" Steiner roared above the rain again. He approached her and the sky was blocked out by an umbrella blossoming over her head. "You will get ill if you stay out in this rain."
She sighed and stared up at the wooden spokes. "It's been raining for so long… I can't stay in the castle for much longer." It's suffocating me, she wanted to say.
Steiner shuffled and fought an inner battle between duty and raw emotion. "I-if… her majesty wishes to walk the gardens, she must really take an umbrella…"
Garnet smiled and turned to him, lily-white skin and dress looking ethereal against the grey backdrop. The smile did not reach her eyes; it had not for many months.
They began walking. Around them the rain poured. The canal was a restless burst of movement. Only soldiers dared the elements as they stood guard around the grounds.
"I wonder when the rain will stop," Steiner mused, more to himself than her. "It has rained solidly for a week. The lower district of Alexandria is almost immersed. Citizens will have to be evacuated. They fear plague. They say the crops are failing and the winter will be particularly harsh. Perhaps we should request an increase in imports from Lindblum…"
Garnet considered this with a numb understanding. No longer could she conjure basic emotion for her drowned kingdom. She was too busy drowning herself.
She answered anyway. Methodical. She managed a forced display of sympathy. Steiner complied.
The queen knew the rain was troublesome, but a perverse side of her urged it to continue. If she could not be happy then why should anyone else be?
"There is something," Steiner went on hesitantly, "that the others and I have been considering for a few months…"
"Oh?" Garnet said, stopping to stare at her rippling reflection in the canal.
"Well…err…" He cleared his throat. "We were thinking it would be proper to erect a statue of him in the Western District Square…"
Garnet froze. Hot-icy fingers gripped her heart. "Wh-what?" She managed stupidly.
"It is just an idea. Freya suggested it, actually, and we thought-"
"It's a ridiculous idea."
Her reflection quivered and swelled, indistinct and fragmented.
"Freya thought-"
"I don't care what Freya thought."
Steiner paused. The silence between them was electric. Months earlier he never would have dreamed of questioning his queen but so much had changed…
"May I ask," he pressed cautiously, "why you scorn the idea?"
(promise me one thi)
"No."
The warm water was in such strong contrast to the cold water outside that it was all she could do not to flee the tub now. The warm water was comforting, relaxing. That was not what she wanted. She wanted the cold water, the fragments of glass that sifted from blankets of grey. She wanted the altered reflection of her countenance, not this clear one.
The bath water was scented with lavender and wild rose. It stank. She longed for damp grass and the stagnant odour of rotting vegetables, which drifted over the castle's walls from the city.
Even locked within the bathroom, she could still hear the rain battering against the battlements.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.
How foolish they were to think that she would want a statue to be built. As if the striking image of him that dominated the frames in her mind
(already wavering like her reflection in the canal)
was not enough to remind her of what she had lost. Still she could hear his voice, tinted with cheeky affection
(already drowned out by the hammering of rain)
and still, she could see the swish of his tail; thrashing when angry, skittering when flirtatious. No, she didn't need a reminder. A sad, solid parody of her beloved. Because statues were built in memory.
And she wasn't ready for him to be just a memory.
(promise me one thing… you'll com)
Steiner's reply echoed in her mind as she sank deeper into the bath.
"We have accepted his death, and you must too."
Promise me one thing… you'll come back.
Death is such a difficult thing to accept... and t
o be honest... everyone thought he was dead for a whole year. A WHOLE YEAR! That's a long friggin' time! I would've gone into this in more detail but ... to be honest... my mind is like a lump of coal atm. Haha. Please review! I love them so.