What Comes After
Nov. 27th, 2012 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: What Comes After
Year: 980 FY
Characters: Mel
Warnings: References to murder with mutilation, execution and character death
Notes: This takes place in the Confessions AU
They'd found the box, with the hands, right where Mel said it would be. From there it had happened very fast--the Islands rarely moved against one of their own, but once they did...justice was always swift.
There had been some question of whether they should hand him over to Asendar, where they thought most of the hands had come from, but the Clan Heads all decided that no one outside the Islands should take part in this.
There hadn't been a trial. There had been no need. Kit had wanted to see him, before the execution. Mel had refused. He had nothing to say to his brother. He didn't even know how they'd done it--something simple, or doing what he'd done to his victims, or giving him the opportunity to choose how he'd die. And he didn't want to know.
But now it fell to him to deal with the body. Not that there were any real superstitions about ghosts, but no one liked leaving bodies unattended. It made everyone uncomfortable. And no one wanted anything to do with Kit any more. They just wanted the whole mess over and done with. Not that Mel blamed them. If he'd had any choice in the matter, he wouldn't want to have to do this, either. He hadn't looked, hadn't said goodbye, hadn't seen or spoken to Kit since he told his Clan Head what he'd seen.
Except, in some secret part of him, he knew it would never be over until he saw Kit's remains laid to rest. Whatever rest his brother could find.
Mel took a dinghy out as far as he could, until his home island was a speck in the distance, and pushed Kit's body over the side, holding it steady with his craft. He waited until the last ripples from the weighted corpse had dissipated, until he couldn't feel the disturbance anymore through the layers of ordinary movement of life under the surface. He slowly pushed the boat back, mostly feeling relieved. It was over. It was finally over. No other metal-mages would die because of him and his brother.
He just couldn't escape the feeling that, now that his last close relative was drifting towards the bottom of the ocean, now he had no one.
Year: 980 FY
Characters: Mel
Warnings: References to murder with mutilation, execution and character death
Notes: This takes place in the Confessions AU
They'd found the box, with the hands, right where Mel said it would be. From there it had happened very fast--the Islands rarely moved against one of their own, but once they did...justice was always swift.
There had been some question of whether they should hand him over to Asendar, where they thought most of the hands had come from, but the Clan Heads all decided that no one outside the Islands should take part in this.
There hadn't been a trial. There had been no need. Kit had wanted to see him, before the execution. Mel had refused. He had nothing to say to his brother. He didn't even know how they'd done it--something simple, or doing what he'd done to his victims, or giving him the opportunity to choose how he'd die. And he didn't want to know.
But now it fell to him to deal with the body. Not that there were any real superstitions about ghosts, but no one liked leaving bodies unattended. It made everyone uncomfortable. And no one wanted anything to do with Kit any more. They just wanted the whole mess over and done with. Not that Mel blamed them. If he'd had any choice in the matter, he wouldn't want to have to do this, either. He hadn't looked, hadn't said goodbye, hadn't seen or spoken to Kit since he told his Clan Head what he'd seen.
Except, in some secret part of him, he knew it would never be over until he saw Kit's remains laid to rest. Whatever rest his brother could find.
Mel took a dinghy out as far as he could, until his home island was a speck in the distance, and pushed Kit's body over the side, holding it steady with his craft. He waited until the last ripples from the weighted corpse had dissipated, until he couldn't feel the disturbance anymore through the layers of ordinary movement of life under the surface. He slowly pushed the boat back, mostly feeling relieved. It was over. It was finally over. No other metal-mages would die because of him and his brother.
He just couldn't escape the feeling that, now that his last close relative was drifting towards the bottom of the ocean, now he had no one.