[Illythian District] In Memoriam

by **Sigrun Dominic** on May 22nd, 2013, 3:20 pm

In Memoriam

73rd of Fall, 508 AV
Maria Arundel's Apartment, Illythian District

Maria Arundel's wealth practically bled through the ceilings of her spacious, well-furnished apartment, with its sleek overhead glass planes drowning the lounge area with warm sunlight. The multitudes of cushioned, ornate chairs from the dining room had been transferred over to accomodate the old woman's many guests, with the round table that had once decorated the center of the room pushed over to the side and covered with platters filled with assorted treats and delicacies.

The many framed paintings that adorned the walls, with their intricate, vibrant depictions of overflowing buffet tables and garden parties, mocked the pale-faced relatives who all made no effort to converse with one another. Instead, Dena Arundel focused all her attention on the curvature of her idle husband's arm as he linked it with hers, their bodies pressed together as intimately as their chairs were. Desmond Arundel spent his energy on the quaint feast that was being served, while his sister, Mais, stood by the open door and watched the world go by.

Maria Arundel leaned her body against the wooden coffin at the end of the room, as if her legs were not enough to support her weight. Her hands, wrinkled and ghastly, were visibly shaky as they gripped the edge of the open casket, her eyes hidden underneath a deep grey veil that seemed to match the silver curls that adorned her aged head. She refused to allow anyone to hear her sob.

There was then the notable presence of Christian Arundel, whose lifeless body was lying inside his plain sarcophagus, looking as abhorrent as the bony hands of his quietly grieving wife. His ashen hair combed back, the ends of his mustache curled to perfection. If not for his incredibly pale skin, the old man would've looked as if he were simply asleep.

However, no matter how rosy his cheeks were in this situation, there was no denying that Christian Arundel was decidedly dead.

Sigrun Dominic sat the farthest away from everyone else, her pale, thin arm wrapped around her younger brother, Sigmund, as he huddled close to her in the adjacent seat. The pair mirrored each other's vacant stares as they gazed at the picturesque moment before them; an old woman saying goodbye to her deceased husband.

"We didn't even get to say goodbye," Sigmund whispered, sadness laden in his voice. Sigrun squeezed the young boy's shoulder and sighed through her teeth.

"It's not fair."

"It really isn't, isn't it?" she responded just as softly, smiling ruefully as she wondered why she had to endure the deafening silence of this funeral, one that was in honor of a man she didn't even have the pleasure of knowing.

"I can't believe they even invited us," Sigmund commented as he briefly scanned the room and eyed his relatives. They were supposed to be family, but it didn't feel like it.

"They don't even like us," he added solemnly, "they don't think we deserve to be Arundels."

Sigrun smirked. "That's because we're Dominics."

"Papa isn't even here anymore."

Sigrun remained silent for a long, long time.

"We're still Arundels, no matter what they do," she finally responded, "just as mama is."

"They understand that we are deserving of grandfather's final moments."

"He isn't even alive anymore, sister," Sigmund's voice shook like a plucked violin string, "this isn't his final moments."

"This is his death."

Sigrun's body tensed, her eyes narrowing as they flashed with anger.

"This isn not even his death, this is him dead. He's gone, sister."

Mais moved from her position by the door, closing it behind her as she moved over to the round table covered in food to join her brother. As she strode along the wooden floor, her eyes landed upon the pair of blonde siblings, a disgusted look overwhelming her features, robbing her of a large portion of her beauty.

Sigrun returned the expression with one of her own; she scowled at the older woman with fiery eyes, causing her to quickly turn away. Sighing to herself, she gently pushed Sigmund's head down, allowing the boy to rest his head on her shoulder.

"This is all we're allowed to have," she said in a soft, somber tone, "so you'd best be happy with it."

"When do we arrive at the portion of life where we won't be having to settle for less?"

Sigmund lifted his head and faced his sister, his blue eyes mirroring hers. The elder sibling raised her hand and caressed the other's cheek.

"When will we be allowed to tell other people to be happy with what they have? With what we'll give them?"

"Will we ever have that luxury?"

Dena Arundel turned her head and gazed at the pair, taking notice of the younger one's heightened tone. Sigrun glanced over at the brunette, only to have her look away as their uncle, James, silently urged her not to bother them.

"You will have that luxury," she told him earnestly, placing both her hands upon his shoulders, "I will give you that luxury."

"I want it for the both of us."

"You shall be first, my love," she grinned, giving him a gentle shake, "you shall be first, and then me; it is through your luxury that I will earn mine."

Sigmund smiled. "It is a luxurious enough to have been blessed with such a sister."

"As it is luxurious enough to have been blessed with such a brother," Sigrun responded with warm smile, her aquamarine eyes dampening from the sentimental exchange.

"As long as we have each other, sister," Sigmund said as the pair embraced and then settled once more into their original position, with his head on her shoulder, and her arm around him.

"We will want for nothing."

"Precisely," she chuckled, tapping his nose with her forefinger, "learning quickly, as always."

"Your future is bright, my dear brother, as bright as this room that we speak within. Our future is bright, you just wait; we'll get there."

"And when we arrive, we'll have precisely what you had asked of me earlier."

Sigmund remained silent, his eyes fluttering to a close as Sigrun finished the last of her sentence. The pair continued to face the coffin, both silent and idle, their minds racing into two different directions; with Sigmund wondering what made his future so bright, and with Sigrun, wondering how a marriage spawned out of love could create such a large schism between mother and daughter.

What did Maria Arundel have against her daughter's husband? Sigrun's father?

And why did she have to bring the rest of the family into it?

by **Dahlia Arundel** on May 22nd, 2013, 6:16 pm

The sky wore the wrong color that day. It was blue, endless blue, brilliant blue. She'd never seen such a color, such a beautiful color, used so liberally in the sky before. It shouldn't be there. Fall was the season of rain, of dark clouds and the touch of cold. Not sun, not light and certainly not warmth. It shouldn't be there. And yet… and yet, here she was, watching its brilliant light engulf the room that screamed of wealth. It should not be there. The world should be mourning. The world should've stopped.

Dahlia looked back uneasily at her plate full of tarts and little cupcakes that smelt so sweetly that it made her nauseous. She wanted to throw it to the nearest wall but there was the guests to think of. No doubt mother wouldn't approve… and grandmother- her thoughts stopped cold. It was never pleasant to think of her but today was different. Today, Maria Arundel was not the beast with look that would've wilted the hearts of the brave, nor was she devil that ruled her family with a tongue sharper than any sword man could wield. Today, she was a widow dressed in the deepest black, a woman that can break and cry. With her back turned to the rest of the world, her shoulders shook. For the first time in Dahlia's life, she noticed how small a person her grandmother was. She stared hard at the tarts and cupcakes, wanting the uncomfortable image out of her mind.

She didn't want to look at her parents either, huddled together as if they held a secret that no one was allowed to know. Her father would be wearing that expression again- an expression that told the world that he was miles off and her mother was the only one anchoring him, shielding him.

Everyone in her family was there. Every business partner, every friend, every person that might hold value in her grandmother's eyes. Desmond ate his feelings out, Mais pretended that everything was fine, the guests tried to look busy. Dahlia looked up at the sky again, sighing. Perhaps the sky didn't wear the wrong color after all.

And yet, a few meters from her family's table, the pair of oddities expressed their grief, didn't bother masking it with pleasantries or delusions. It was raw, Dahlia realised. It was raw and it was real and her young heart hurt for them. Oddities. There was not a word better to describe them. It was a surprise to see them turn up at the funeral, Dahlia almost thought of them as beggars, or at least lost foreigners wandering the streets to ask for directions. It took her a moment to realise they were relatives of theirs. She didn't know much of the details (much of it was comprised of warning rather than relevant information) but the look on her Grandmother's face when she saw them was enough to convince her that they didn't belong. To the Arundel's, they were no better than scavengers.

Maria's shoulders tensed up, her body rigid. At once, there was no trace of the mourning woman beside the coffin. Instead she was the woman that held the room with her hands, her smiles charming and her laughs delicate like the fine china decorating each table. She weaved through crowds, greeting everyone and asking about their lives. Maria's smile only froze when she neared the pair. She approached them, her steps slow and deliberate. She stopped a metre away from them, her silhouette casting over them. "My dear grandchildren… I do hope you're enjoying yourselves. Feel free to stay for a while." Without waiting for their reply, she walked briskly past them and joined a group of well dressed individuals, all smiles and charm.

Following her cue, Mais and the rest of her family went into action. Any trace of grief went away, replaced by well practised lines that would have their guests talking and laughing. They were prepared for this. Dahlia also stood up, trailing behind her parents and smiling when prompted. She was prepared for this. This was easy.

She didn't have to think about anything- not the way that her grandfather used to hug her, not the way his whiskers used to tickle her when he kissed her cheek or the way his fingers were smeared by charcoal as he taught her how mere lines could be magical and that a world could be made by a single stroke. There would be no thinking.

"It isn't fair." She found herself thinking as she smiled at the woman that pinched her cheek hard enough that it would probably make a red mark later on. "It isn't fair that I get to smile at these people when they can cry all they want and not care about it."

"Aren't you just the prettiest girl! My my you've grown into such a fine young lady!" The woman in pearls cooed as she went for her face again. "Such a fine girl inde-"

Too immersed in her thoughts, she did the unthinkable. Manners and sensibilities damned. Dahlia slapped away the woman's pruney old hands, a slight coldness in her eyes that froze the group. She was bedevilled, she was sure. How great would it be to spew curses at her. Despite her limited knowledge of it. But the smiles won, so deeply ingrained in her that she could not bear betray it. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry Mrs. Baha, I wanted to brush away my hair and then… oh, I do hope you're not too hurt…should I grab a salve for that?"

"Oh no, no, it was barely a peck, dear!" A nervous laugh erupted and uneasy chuckles came from the rest of the group. The red sting on her hand was quite evident.

Not wanting the conversation to move further, Dahlia smiled brightly. "That's great! If you may excuse me, I have to… ah…" She carefully avoided the stare of her parents, no doubt her mother would want a word if she stayed any longer by their side. In desperation, she scanned the room as discreetly as she could behind the Mrs Baha. Immediately, her gaze landed on the Dominics. "I'm sorry, but I really do have to look for my cousins. I haven't seen them in quite a while and I'd like to greet them."

"Dahlia-" her mother began but her daughter threw in another smile.

"You wouldn't mind would you, mother? I have missed them so."

There was moment of strained silence, broken by James in his soft, gentle way. "Go on. Don't play too much, okay? We have somewhere to go much later."

Dahlia made a mental note to thank her father later and curtsied as politely as she could before slipping away from the group and joining the two in their small table and beamed. "Hello. I've been watching you."

by **Sigrun Dominic** on May 22nd, 2013, 6:42 pm

The guests were flooding in, multitudes of them whom Sigrun did not recognize. They entered the parlor with bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks, their congested noses making themselves known by the odd way they spoke. They were all grieving just as intensely as she and Sigmund were. The young blonde wondered how much her grandfather had truly affected these people, and how.

"Who are they, sister?" Sigmund murmured. Sigrun eyed them with wide, sharp eyes, responding to her brother with a mere shrug.

It was then that Maria approached the pair with a sickeningly sweet smile, one that bent the many wrinkles that creased her sunken cheeks. Sigmund eyed her innocently, while his elder sister gazed up at her with a defensive look on her face.

"We have every right to be here," she thought angrily, "you can't throw us out."

"My dear grandchildren… I do hope you're enjoying yourselves. Feel free to stay for a while."

The sentiment shocked the young girl. Sigmund opened his mouth to respond, but the old woman was already off to greet her incoming guests. Sigrun turned around and watched her go, almost believing the little act, until she was reminded of the fact that the woman had a reputation to uphold in front of the public eye.

"Petching piece of shyke," she thought, hiding her glare behind her eyelids as she turned away, only to find the one person she'd been missing since they'd entered the premises.

Dahlia.

The young girl, who looked almost artificial with her powdered, porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, and glossy lips. She strode across the hardwood floors with ease, something that surprised Sigrun, as the frills that adorned her dress looked positively suffocating.

"Never wear something like that, sister," Sigmund tugged at the elder sibling's simple navy tunic, its cotton fabric hugging at her body, revealing her development into adolescence as it melded into her brand new curvatures.

"You'll look like a cake," he muttered with a chuckle, "with far too much icing on."

"I think it looks quite pretty," she responded amusedly, watching the girl for a moment before turning away. It was a pain to be cross with her cousin Dahlia, as the little girl was an absolute darling.

"I don't like it," Sigmund looked up at her with a sour face, "why do you like it?"

Sigrun chuckled and fussed with the little boy's golden head of hair. "I don't see why not."

The next time the blonde girl turned around to glance at the settling crowd, Dahlia was slapping a woman's hand away from her face. Sigrun's eyes widened, more so with pride than with astonishment, smirking as the little girl saved herself from being scolded by immediately producing a solid excuse.

"She's got guts," Sigmund commented as he watched the scene unfold, turning away just as the frilly-dressed girl began to approach them.

"It's admirable," Sigrun shrugged, feigning disinterest.

"Kind of like you, sister," the little boy responded, "only you've got more of it."

"Hello. I've been watching you."

Sigrun's head jerked upwards to find Dahlia sitting before them, an unreadable smile gracing her doll-like features. Sigmund turned to her and fidgeted in his seat, nervous.

"Hello," Sigrun responded nonchalantly, "I'm surprised you still remember us."

"Why are you watching us?" Sigmund blurted out, his innocent blue eyes making contact with Dahlia's. The young boy claimed that his sister had all the guts, when he himself had plenty.

"Sigmund," the elder sibling placed her hand on his shoulder, "mind your manners."

"I'm sorry," Sigmund glanced over to his sister, and then back at Dahlia, "I didn't mean to be so upfront."

Sigrun patted the young boy on his head, smirking as she looked over to Dahlia with a raised eyebrow, as if she was expecting her response to Sigmund's question.

by **Dahlia Arundel** on May 22nd, 2013, 7:57 pm

She had returned her greeting! Dahlia was beyond thrilled. From the stories told by her siblings, she was scared that they might ignore her, or worse, chase her out of their space. She giggled sheepishly. "To be honest, I don't actually remember your names. I only recognised your faces thou-"

"Why are you watching us?" Blurted the little blonde haired boy. Immediately, the elder of the two reprimanded him. "Sigmund, mind your manners."

Sigmund. That was his name. How unusual.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so upfront."

Dahlia grinned, shaking her head and inadvertently, the frills on the collar of her dress. "No, I don't mind. It's nice to talk to someone that isn't pretending we're not in a funeral. By the way our grandmother is carrying on, it's like she's set in making this into another one of her parties. They're boring you know. Old ladies coming and pinching you on the cheeks." She gave Sigmund a sly look. "They'd probably pinch your cheeks senseless too, since you're so cute like me. Especially that lady," she gestured at Mrs. Baha, "why, I had to slap her hand away just to get her away from my face just now!"

A sudden blush flared from her cheeks, and immediately, her hands flew to her mouth as if she could consume the words that she had said. "Oh no, I mean- I, um.... you won't tell mother will you? That I did it in purpose? It really did hurt. If I didn't stop her, I'm pretty sure I'd be putting some ice over my cheeks again, and it feels terrible." She wrinkled her nose from the memory, remembering last month's party. "The ice made me look like Desmond after he lost a fight and his tooth. He made fun of me all day!"

Dahlia stopped, realising that she had said far too much. The red of her cheeks brightened. "Please don't tell mother. Or grandmother. They don't like it when I get mad." Her voice lowered as she leaned in closer to the pair. "Apparently, I get really violent when I'm mad. It's not my fault if I get mad. I don't think anyone can control their emotions that well. Except maybe for grandmother, but that's only when there's someone other than family in the room...."

She trailed off, sighing. "It was strange, wasn't it? Seeing grandmother like that beside grandpa's coffin. She looked so... life like. As if she was gonna fall apart at any moment. Sometimes I hear her, you know, when I'm sleeping here. She cries sometimes and grandpa would comfort her... no one's gonna comfort her now." Dahlia sighed again. "I'll miss grandpa a lot. He taught me a lot of things. And he's really good at making me laugh. He often talks about you two, as well. It's really nice. He never mentions your names though, which is something I don't understand. Maybe he found some memories painful?" She said the last words as if she was talking to herself, her voice full of wonder as she thought of the past. After a few moments, Dahlia chuckled. "It's really nice talking to you both. It really beats the impression Mais makes. Grandpa would've been really happy to see you both here."

The girl bit her lip, looking away. "To answer your question, maybe I was watching you both because I'm a bit jealous. Who knew what grandpa's last thoughts were, but if I could guess, he was probably thinking what a shame it was that he hasn't had a proper conversation with you both. At least, that's what I thought when I first heard the news. I'm very jealous. I want to be his last thoughts, ar least his second last thoughts. I don't like him leaving us like this with only memories... it's so lonely."

by **Sigrun Dominic** on May 23rd, 2013, 3:05 pm

"No, I don't mind. It's nice to talk to someone that isn't pretending we're not in a funeral. By the way our grandmother is carrying on, it's like she's set in making this into another one of her parties. They're boring you know. Old ladies coming and pinching you on the cheeks."

Sigrun's mildly stern expression softened, the crease of her dark brows smoothing over at the little girl's casual tone. Sigmund offered her a gracious smile, his trust completely earned with just one act of kindness.

"They'd probably pinch your cheeks senseless too, since you're so cute like me. Especially that lady," she pointed over to the woman whose hand she'd swatted away just a few moments ago, "why, I had to slap her hand away just to get her away from my face just now!"

Sigmund's eyes widened, his little smile broadening to form an amused grin as he suppressed his laughter. Sigrun's eyes twinkled with amusement, smiling slyly at the girl's admittance.

"Oh no, I mean- I, um.... you won't tell mother will you? That I did it in purpose? It really did hurt. If I didn't stop her, I'm pretty sure I'd be putting some ice over my cheeks again, and it feels terrible."

Sigrun shook her head, her eyes diverting from the little girl's flushed cheeks, as if she'd felt invasive to have seen her in such a state.

"It's no secret, dear cousin, but I will tell no one."

"Neither will I!" Sigmund added eagerly, leaning towards the girl with bright, twinkling eyes.

"The ice made me look like Desmond after he lost a fight and his tooth. He made fun of me all day!"

Sigrun's smile widened, while her younger brother snorted. The latter was about to comment on Desmond's tooth, his lips parted as he sought the words to complete his question, when Dahlia spoke up once more.

"Please don't tell mother. Or grandmother. They don't like it when I get mad," Dahlia was whispering now, "apparently, I get really violent when I'm mad. It's not my fault if I get mad. I don't think anyone can control their emotions that well. Except maybe for grandmother, but that's only when there's someone other than family in the room...."

Sigrun covered her mouth, tilting her head to the side, amusement evident in her stark eyes. "It does run in the family."

"What does?" Sigmund turned to his sister with a raised eyebrow. Sigrun turned to him and smirked mischievously.

"Uncontrollable violence."

The pair grinned at one another, their eyes twinkling as they exchanged a silent, inside joke. Sigrun turned to Dahlia once more with an understanding look on her face.

"You have nothing to worry about, dear cousin," she said, licking her lips amusedly, "it's a natural trait that never skips a generation."

"It was strange, wasn't it? Seeing grandmother like that beside grandpa's coffin. She looked so... life like. As if she was gonna fall apart at any moment. Sometimes I hear her, you know, when I'm sleeping here. She cries sometimes and grandpa would comfort her... no one's gonna comfort her now."

Sigmund stared blankly at his cousin. "I'm not sure I follow, dear cousin..."

"Why does she cry?"

Sigrun patted her brother on the back, rubbing circles around his shoulders. "Perhaps it's something we're ought not to know."

She turned to Dahlia with a deadpan expression. "Your grandmother is a very strong woman, with an equally strong personality. It takes an amazing amount of courage to stand there in front of guests with an unnerving smile."

"And you should know that while it may all be a facade, it is also a demonstration of strength."

She shook her head, gazing at the wooden floorboards with pain-striken eyes. Her words were clearly beyond her age, an obvious sign of having been forced to grow up a little earlier, in order to compensate for their lack of parents.

"I'll miss grandpa a lot. He taught me a lot of things. And he's really good at making me laugh. He often talks about you two, as well. It's really nice. He never mentions your names though, which is something I don't understand. Maybe he found some memories painful?"

"We all do," Sigrun commented softly. Sigmund gazed into Dahlia's eyes and attempted to comfort her with a smile.

"I'm Sigmund," he said shyly, "and this is Sigrun. Maybe grandpa didn't mention our names because... he didn't know what they were."

"He didn't get a chance to know," he added.

"They wouldn't allow him to know," she grumbled, eyes directed at the floor.

"It's really nice talking to you both. It really beats the impression Mais makes. Grandpa would've been really happy to see you both here."

The young girl's face softened once more. "I'm sure of it. Although I'm also certain he would've been extremely glad to see you speaking to us."

"Yes," Sigmund smiled brightly, "nobody else does, not in the Arundel family."

"To answer your question, maybe I was watching you both because I'm a bit jealous. Who knew what were grandpa's last thoughts were, but if I could guess, he was probably thinking what a shame it was that he hasn't had a proper conversation with you both. At least, that's what I thought when I first heard the news. I'm very jealous. I want to be his last thoughts, or least his second last thoughts. I don't like him leaving us like this with only memories... it's so lonely."

"He wasn't thinking of just us, Dahlia," Sigrun furrowed her brows, surprised that the girl was thinking of such things, "he was thinking of all of us."

"There are only so many people who could fit in one thought and I can assure you, we all fit just fine in his very last one."

A haughty snort disturbed the trio's intimate conversation. Mais stood behind Sigrun's chair with an arrogant look on her face. She placed her long, slender fingers on the young girl's back rest and leaned over.

"What makes you think you two are a part of his last thoughts, let alone you two?"

Sigrun's face burned, but not with embarrassment; with anger. Quickly, she got out of her seat, thankful that the elder cousin had been holding onto it, or else it would've been pushed backwards and might've scratched the wooden floor. Sigmund immediately took hold of the cushions of his seat as he looked up at his sister with fear.

"Sigrun," he said softly, but his sister was deafened by rage, "don't do this, not here..."

It was only then did Mais seem to realize that Sigrun was very much armed, and very much capable. The tall, lanky blonde girl eyed the Cutlass that hung along the girl's waist and frowned, both in fear and disgust.

"How unlady-like," she spat out, eyeing her sword as she was turning to leave.

"Do you have any idea how a lady is meant to act?" Sigrun responded, happy to have her words be drowned out by the loud chatter of Maria's many guests.

"It's nowhere near the way you act," she snapped, "you sorry excuse for a lady."

"Excuse me?" Mais closed in on the younger girl, "what did you just say?"

"I could exchange what I'd just said with a matter of horrible things," she raised her eyebrows bemusedly, "and they would all be true."

Mais pursed her lips, prepared to throw something at the girl. Sigrun stared up at her with sharp eyes, revealing all the strength she had accumulated from all those years of hardship. The young girl's hand left her side and wrapped itself around the hilt of her sword. Mais backed down.

"Whether you like it or not," Sigrun began to approach the girl as she continued to step backwards, "we are a part of this family."

"And grandfather knew that. He accepted that. He had no prejudice against us."

"And trust me," she hissed into the girl's face, inaudible to Dahlia and Sigmund, "I dislike being related to the likes of you, as much as you dislike being related to a commoner like me."

Mais stared at her with wide, fearful eyes. Wordlessly, she moved away from the girl and over to another crowd of people, her eyes flashing with fear and anxiety as she struggled to maintain a smile.

Sigrun sighed heavily, the anger still evident in her flushed face as she returned to Dahlia and Sigmund and sat down. The events had transpired so quickly.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia," Sigmund said on behalf of his sister, "Sigrun doesn't know how to control her's, either..."

"I told you," Sigrun looked up after a bout of silence, finally looking like herself once more, "it runs in the family."

by **Dahlia Arundel** on May 23rd, 2013, 6:06 pm

"There are only so many people who could fit in one thought and I can assure you, we all fit just fine in his very last one."

The smile that emerged from the young girl's face was dazzling. It was almost true to say that she was radiating happiness. Dahlia giggled shyly, tucking back an imaginary lock of hair behind her ear and started to form the beginnings of her sentence until the sight of her sister, Mais, tore her away from her delighted state.

Throughout the exchange between the two young women, Dahlia was simmering with anger. Her glare stuck on her older sisters retreating back, a disgusted scowl on her lips. She was always the one who enjoyed a scene.

Sigrun sat back down, and his brother apologised. And just like that, it was over. Only leaving a brief silence, like a calling card of a disaster. Dahlia simmered on.

"I told you," the young woman spoke, composed once more, "it runs in the family."

"I should've thrown something at her." The young girl hissed. "Gods, she can be such brute. I should be the one apologising here... but I hope you don't hate her too much, it's not her fault she's generally unpleasant." She gave a crooked smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "if it gives you any comfort though, when she wakes up tomorrow morning, I promise you that she's gonna find herself rather... tangled up with another sort of unpleasant."

There was an awkward laugh that followed the young girl's devious prediction, belonging to a sturdy looking young man with the beginnings of an impressive beard. "Dahlia, you cheek. I have half a mind to tell our sweet sister your little plan." The young man attempted to chuckle heartily, only it came out more like a splutter instead. "Terribly sorry about our sister, cousins. She can be sometimes... she's quite the spit fire, you know?"

"Desmond please," Dahlia groaned, rolling her eyes. "You're embarrassing yourself. And me. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're all feeling your awkwardness now."

In response, Desmond promptly mussed her carefully brushed hair with both hands, smirking at his sister's dismay. "At least I don't look like a rabbit flouncing around with too much fluff. Next time dad offers you a dress like that, turn it down."

She stuck out a pink tongue, smoothing out her hair. "Your jealousy is showing. I'm adorable in this dress."

"Whatever." He laughed, offering a dimpled smile towards his cousins. "Again, I'm sorry about our sister. I'll have a word with her. Also," his eyes swept the three of them, in mock sternness, "the whole funeral is going to head for Li Mauta for the cremation soon, and Grandmother... well, she wants the family at the front. Including the both of you.... ah," from the side of his eye, he caught an older woman's inviting smile and suddenly, he was quite in a hurry. "Anyway, don't be late okay?"

"Mother said he's going through a period." Dahlia announced a few moments after her brother's departure. "Which is strange since I thought only girls went through that. Oh well. What do you guys wanna do before we go to the cremation? Because if we stay here, I think there's gonna be more people coming around. It's not often that my grandmother's guests see all of the family and I'm pretty sure that their tongues will be wagging by the end of today, if you take my meaning."

by **Sigrun Dominic** on May 25th, 2013, 1:24 pm

"I should've thrown something at her."

Sigmund burst out in a chuckle. Sigrun placed her arm around the boy, concerned about the attention that he may draw, but smiled nonetheless at Dahlia's remark.

"Gods, she can be such brute. I should be the one apologising here... but I hope you don't hate her too much, it's not her fault she's generally unpleasant."

Shrugging, the young girl raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "If she doesn't want to compensate for her bland looks by having a pleasant personality, then who can blame her?"

Dahlia graced the pair with a mischievous, lopsided smile. "if it gives you any comfort though, when she wakes up tomorrow morning, I promise you that she's gonna find herself rather... tangled up with another sort of unpleasant."

"Hm," Sigrun hummed with interest, the mischief twinkling in her eyes mirroring Dahlia's, smiling as the young girl laughed, "and what do you have planned?"

"Dahlia, you cheek. I have half a mind to tell our sweet sister your little plan."

Their conversation was cut short by a newcomer. Sigrun and Sigmund looked up to find another one of their cousins looming over them; Desmond. The tall, muscular, and tanned boy looked as if he were struggling to maintain a bemused expression. Sigrun immediately let her guard up, tightening her hold on her brother, until Desmond turned to them and spoke.

"Terribly sorry about our sister, cousins. She can be sometimes... She's quite the spit fire, you know?"

"Spit fire?" Sigrun smirked, raising an eyebrow up at the boy, "what an interesting way to put it."

"It is, isn't it?" his guttural voice hinted at his amusement. Sigmund gazed up at him with awe, fascinated by his build.

"Desmond please," Dahlia grumbled, "You're embarrassing yourself. And me. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're all feeling your awkwardness now."

"Sister," Sigmund reached over and cupped a hand over his sibling's ear, "why does he look like that?"

"Like what?" Sigmund whispered back, smiling sweetly at her young brother.

"Like a statue," the young boy responded with a slackened jaw. Sigrun chuckled softly, raising her eyebrows and shrugging as she brushed Sigmund's blonde bangs away from his forehead.

"He looks like a painting," he added quietly.

"As do you," she said, with an affectionate kiss on his head.

"At least I don't look like a rabbit flouncing around with too much fluff. Next time dad offers you a dress like that, turn it down."

Sigrun and Sigmund returned to their conversation, both mimmicking each others amused expressions as they watched the exchange between the two Arundels.

"Your jealousy is showing. I'm adorable in this dress," Dahlia remarked confidently. Sigrun could not help but agree, despite the fact that she would never wear such ostentatious clothing anywhere. She definitely did not inherit that part of the Arundels.

"She does!" Sigmund beamed. He, on the other hand, seemed to have.

"Whatever," Desmond retorted comically, running a hand through his hair.

Desmond smiled, something Sigrun had never seen before. He turned towards them and regarded them warmly, another something that Sigrun did not expect.

"Again, I'm sorry about our sister. I'll have a word with her."

Sigrun's stomach flipped. She didn't expect the boy to defend them. Perhaps he was also an exception to the Arundel's snooty reputation, as was Dahlia.

"Then again, who am I to judge them all," she thought, "grandfather was the kindest man I had ever heard about, and uncle James isn't so bad as well."

"Also, the whole funeral is going to head for Li Mauta for the cremation soon, and Grandmother... Well, she wants the family at the front. Including the both of you..."

Sigrun was too busy glancing over to eye James Arundel as he spoke to a few guests, his wife Dena hanging by his arm. The serene expression on his face was a stark contrast to Dena's haughtiness. She whipped her head over to Desmond and was about to express her astonishment.

"She wants us there too?" she thought. Sigmund looked at her with wide, questioning eyes as well.

"Anyway, don't be late okay?"

Desmond was off to entertain a certain female guest before Sigrun could mention anything about her dismay. She turned to Dahlia as she resumed their conversation.

"Mother said he's going through a period."

Sigrun snickered. Sigmund looked up at the two of them, "what does that mean?"

"He's going through a phase," Sigrun murmured in between Dahlia's next remark, "just as I am, and just as you will."

"That sounds terrifying," Sigmund said under his breath, "I don't want to go through it."

"Which is strange since I thought only girls went through that. Oh well. What do you guys wanna do before we go to the cremation? Because if we stay here, I think there's gonna be more people coming around. It's not often that my grandmother's guests see all of the family and I'm pretty sure that their tongues will be wagging by the end of today, if you take my meaning."

Nodding with a soft hum, Sigrun watched as the number of people began to increase by the hour. Sigmund stood up from his seat and stretched.

Chuckling, Sigrun turned to Dahlia with an amused look on her face. "Everyone goes through it, and it's not always pleasant."

"I wanna do something," Sigmund said, turning to Dahlia, "but I don't know what."

"Do you have something in mind, cousin?"

by **Dahlia Arundel** on May 25th, 2013, 4:06 pm

The young blonde frowned, tapping her chin as she thought of possibilities. A thought nagged her as she turned over ideas in her mind. If she were to leave the room, her grandpa would be left alone with the worst of people- social climbers. Networking rested for no man, let alone his own funeral. It might've been true that her family was there, but even they only added to the enthusiasm of those vultures. She pulled a face.

"Hm... I'm a bit hesitant leaving grandpa alone like this, but I wanna show you something good as well. It's not often we meet." Tap, tap, tap. She narrowed her eyes at the throng of people entering the premises, suspicion evident. "Those people. Their intentions better be sincere. Unlike most of them, grandpa deserves the respect he earned."

"Hmmm... let's do something grandpa would've loved," Dahlia declared after a moment of thought. "Yes, let's do that. It's his day after all. We should go to the place where he loves being in. Grandpa, you know, he loved being in the library. And the temple too, but that's far away. He used to teach me how to draw in the library. Everytime I went here, we would draw together. He was very good."

The girl smiled eagerly at both siblings, "He drew often, and drew a lot. Not just me, but a lot of subjects. His best was when he's in the Temple after praying to Priskil. When you look at his drawings, I swear you'd think there's something beyond what you saw, real and not real. Grandpa is just so..." the light on her eyes dimmed when she realised the slip of her tongue. Dahlia bit her lip, diverting her eyes away as subtly as she could. "Grandpa was great. You would've loved him. Really loved him."

"Ah, but, staying here is no good!" At once, the energy Dahlia exuded bubbled up once more. Distraction was the key; even if she knew it would take months, maybe years, for her to fully accept that her grandpa was gone, she'd rather have the pain as her own secret than tackily displaying it. The rest of the world could go on forgetting him, as long as she didn't. She slipped off her chair, walked over to the youngest one (as she knew she probably had no strength for Sigrun) and grabbed his hands, giving it a small squeeze. "Shall we, Sigmund?"

With a laughter spilling from her lips, the young girl marched on, Sigmund in tow. She didn't bother to check if Sigrid would be following- she'd follow him all the way to Ravok if he was there. Dahlia ignored the envy that pricked her, pushing the feeling away. It really didn't matter that they got along better than she and Mais ever did. It really didn't.

"Don't worry Sigmund, we're not too far away, promise!" With years of practise on her, she manoeuvred her way through the crowd , never quite letting the boy go until they reached at end of the hall, where there were little to no people hanging around. A tall wooden door with brass knobs shaped as fierce animals with maws wide open barred their way. Beside each side of the door had a simple turquoise vase on top of an ornate table. In it, various stems of bright colored flowers thrived. Dahlia turned at the boy, wearing another wicked grin. "Don't tell anyone, but Grandmother actually had those vases replaced just recently because Mrs. Baha had a pair of vases that looked similar to her old vases." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping lower, "You know what the funny part is? Whilst Grandmother got them from a real artist from Wind Reach, Mrs Baha just got them at the Bazaar. The thought kept her awake each night, I swear!"

She pulled back, laughing hysterically. Yes, it was far easier to laugh than to cry. Her mother had been right about that. 'The more it hurts, the more gracious your smile should be,' Dena had said when her daughter scraped her foot once upon a time. It had been ages, but the lesson stuck on her head. After gaining some function, Dahlia pushed open the wooden doors and waited for the older girl.

Beyond the slight figure of Dahlia, rows of shelves lined the walls of the library, each packed with leather bound books. With the skyline above them, the golden words on the proud spine of the books almost shone. It's interior was tastefully simple, unlike the garish displays of wealth beyond the library, the furnishings were more muted. A desk full of scattered stationary and books waited in front of the fireplace, where a rug separated them like two islands of the same country. Though the fireplace was not lit, there was an undeniable warmth in the room that instantly comforted Dahlia. From the door, she could still see the flower she had stolen from the vase outside situated on top of the fireplace, still displayed on a mug Christopher had used that day. It had shrivelled though, the vivid colors drained and replaced by festering decay. Dahlia fought off her tears, each ebb of sorrow knocking her breath away. "See? Grandpa's library."

by **Sigrun Dominic** on May 25th, 2013, 7:47 pm

"Hm... I'm a bit hesitant leaving grandpa alone like this, but I wanna show you something good as well. It's not often we meet."

"Something good!?" Sigmund grinned excitedly, his eyes twinkling with delight. Sigrun smiled, running a hand through the young boy's golden locks. It wasn't often that she saw him so happy.

Sigrun followed the girl's eyes as she turned over and glared at the people entering the premises, their forlorn faces masked by trembling hankerchiefs.

"Those people. Their intentions better be sincere. Unlike most of them, grandpa deserves the respect he earned."

"That's hard to ask of people who think of nothing but themselves," she responded with a straight face, which she then followed with an amused smile.

"Hmmm... let's do something grandpa would've loved. Yes, let's do that. It's his day after all."

"What did grandpa love?" Sigmund asked, practically jumping in place. The little boy was dying to know more about his grandfather. Sigrun put a hand on the boy's shoulder, hoping to calm him down. The worst thing that could happen now was that the child would forget that his loved one was dead; it was too late to meet him now.

"We should go to the place where he loves being in. Grandpa, you know, he loved being in the library. And the temple too, but that's far away. He used to teach me how to draw in the library. Everytime I went here, we would draw together. He was very good."

Sigrun wilted, her grip on her brother's shoulder tightening. She turned away from Dahlia and bit her lip, struggling to maintain her emotions. If she were allowed to see her grandfather, then she would've known all these things. She wouldn't need to be told of them.

Sigmund turned around and eyed his sister, giving her a reassuring smile as he gently wrapped his little fingers around her hand. Sigrun's face softened.

"He drew often, and drew a lot. Not just me, but a lot of subjects. His best was when he's in the Temple after praying to Priskil. When you look at his drawings, I swear you'd think there's something beyond what you saw, real and not real. Grandpa is just so..."

Sigrun held her breath.

"Grandpa was great. You would've loved him. Really loved him."

And then exhaled through gritted teeth.

"I know," she whispered softly, her words coming out more like a breathy sigh.

"Ah, but, staying here is no good!" Dahlia's mood uplifted in mere seconds as she grabbed Sigmund by the hand cheerfully, "Shall we, Sigmund?"

Sigrun tensed up at the action, but only for a moment. She was merely concerned about her brother's safety. But Dahlia was harmless, and appeared to be trustworthy. She wouldn't harm him, nor Sigrun herself.

"Don't worry Sigmund, we're not too far away, promise!" Dahlia exclaimed. Sigmund found himself under the clutches of his cousin, blushing furiously at the contact he was having with her hand. Sigrun paused for a moment, eyeing the people who watched the pair of children go, before following suit.

"Are you sure this is a-alright, cousin Dahlia?" he sputtered out meekly as he trailed behind his golden-haired relative, stumbling slightly as he went.

The door that greeted them was unlike any other that she had ever laid eyes on. The wooden finish was smooth and rich in color, glistening as if it were soaked in oil. Its polished, glittering brass knobs were in the shape of a roaring beast. The Dominic siblings both stared at the architecture with gaping mouths.

Sigrun's eyes caught sight of a color that she knew well and loved; turquoise. It was similar to the color of her eyes. It was the shade of the artfully designed vases that adorned the sides of the door, with each one sporting a delightful array of flowers. The young girl's eyes twinkled at the sight of each flower, admiring how wonderful each one complemented the other.

"Don't tell anyone, but Grandmother actually had those vases replaced just recently because Mrs. Baha had a pair of vases that looked similar to her old vases."

Sigmund nodded vigorously with widened eyes, as if the fact that another person could have a similar set of vases was truly a horrifying thing to behold.

Sigrun turned to Dahlia with a raised eyebrow and a scoff. "What a woman she is."

"You know what the funny part is? Whilst Grandmother got them from a real artist from Wind Reach, Mrs. Baha just got them at the Bazaar. The thought kept her awake each night, I swear!"

"How dreadful," Sigrun responded with mock sincerity, placing a hand over her heart, "she must've lost a lot of beauty sleep!"

"Sister..." Sigmund burst out laughing, giving his sibling a weak slap on the arm. Sigrun chuckled and shook her head as a silent apology, her spirits lifted by the sound of Dahlia's laughter.

She pulled back, laughing hysterically. After gaining some function, Dahlia pushed open the wooden doors and waited for the older girl.

"See? Grandpa's library."

Sigmund bolted into the room like an agitated cat, quickly making his way towards the nearest shelf.

"There are so many!" his voice bounced off of the walls as he quickly took out a random book and began to skim through it.

"There are too many!" he glanced over to Sigrun just as she entered, "sister, look! This one is about animals! I think there are some pictures!"

But Sigrun was far too busy admiring how much of her grandfather's identity had melted into the library, from the way he left his papers and notebooks in a haphazard disarray in front of his hearth, and the way he kept his furnishings simple and modest. She strode inside slowly, gently, as if a loud noise from her footsteps make wake her grandfather's ghost and scare it away from the premises, and then she would never be able to discovery him through his things.

Her eyes scanned the bookshelves for anything of interest, but books were never her forte. Sigmund, on the other hand, was clearly a lover of all things literary. The boy had literally plopped himself on the floor and completely disregarded the fact that he was a guest in another person's home, with numerous open books splayed out around his legs as he lost himself inside the one he'd claimed to be about animals.

"Sigrun!" he called out, his eyes still focused on the yellowing pages, "There are such things as large animals!"

The elder Dominic sibling whipped her head around and raised an eyebrow at her engrossed brother.

"Sigmund?" she chuckled, "of course there are!"

"Dire animals, sister!" the young boy lifted his head to look at her with glistening eyes, "animals that are much larger than they ordinarily are!"

"Ah," she nodded, lips parted to feign interest and astonishment, "quite amazing, yes."

"Ordinarily," she mouthed, exhaling sharply with an amused smile. The young boy had a vocabulary that was quite beyond his years. Was it all her stories? Was it mother's storybook?

There was enough room for around two hundred and fifty books, and that space appeared to be filled to the very brim. Sigrun could have spent the rest of her day in the library, reading up on what her grandfather had known, but instead narrowed in on his many rolls of parchment and papers. Her eyes scanned the dark, cold hearth with sadness; there was no longer any warmth, just like her grandfather.

She found his quill set down upon a long piece of paper that had a bit of writing on it. Sigrun raised the pen and ran her hand through the deep red feather that decorated it. It was absolutely beautiful. She could imagine her grandfather holding it and sitting down in front of the crackling hearth writing, reading, and thinking.

It pained her for a moment when she realized that she didn't know if he was left or right handed.

Even the little things mattered.

She picked up the piece of paper and scanned it, concluding that it was a poem. The dark ink bled in some areas, as if it had been smudged by water.

"Hm," she smiled fondly, glancing behind her to look at Dahlia, "I didn't know that grandfather was a writer, as well."

As she read the neatly-written poem, her eyes began to brim with hot tears that she struggled to keep from spilling down her cheeks. It was absolutely beautiful.

The Poem :

OOC NoteSent you a PM about this poem, please check it out.

by **Dahlia Arundel** on May 26th, 2013, 7:11 am

Dahlia watched her cousins dart about in the library; Sigmund at once attacking the neat array of books, Sigrun poking at the disarray of papers at the desk. She didn't quite mind them in the library, but it felt strange for herself to enter the room without grandpa. It wasn't enough to find his traces here and there. She didn't want that.

She struggled to keep her smile from waning when the pair started talking about dire animals. Christopher had a fascination for them, she remembered. He loved the power in their muscles, imagining how each limb would flow into motion as they ran into forests or deserts. He often talked about how it would be great to see those places, "Just once, just once and it'd be enough for this old man." They had made plans to visit them one day.

"Hm, I didn't know that grandfather was a writer, as well."

That was then that the dam broke. Tears welled out, deep sobs seeped out from her lungs and breathing came like sharp pulses, driving sadness deeper and deeper into her. She wasn't even sure anymore if grandpa was the sole reason for her tears. Crying was just such a release, and in the confines of the library, no one was around to remind her how unbecoming it was.

"I just-" the girl blubbered, "It's just.. I think I need to sit." She sunk down to her knees, clutching it miserably. Was everyday going to be like this? A torturous reminder of the life lost? Of what could've been, and what should've been? It was too cruel. It was far too cruel. She sniffed loudly, determined to pretend that she didn't just bawl her eyes out. "There's no way. Grandpa hated writing. Said it was a waste, sitting around and forming letters when you could just draw it."

Once she made sure that she wouldn't topple over, she went to where the poem was placed, reading it carefully. The first she noticed was how beautiful the handwriting was. The second, it definitely wasn't his. Rather than write, his letters were more like scratches on wood, each constructed as if he were in pain. The fluidity and the impeccable elegance in the handwritten poem was undeniably Maria's.

"It's not grandpa's at all." Dahlia concluded, smoothing the paper back to the table. "It's Grandmother's. She wrote it. Out of the both of them, she really enjoyed writing and reading. Most of the books in the library is her's, I think. She doesn't like to spend time here though, it wasn't her 'place'. She preferred the lounge or her room. While this is grandpa's 'place', this was Grandmother's storeroom."

"Usually though," the girl continued, "that it's rare to find her papers just lying around. You usually have to search the whole library before you find one. She must've been too... distracted to hide it."

The young blonde read over the poem again, a frown tugging her lips. "But I wonder who she was directing the poem to? It doesn't seem like grandpa... even though he's gone, the poem doesn't seem to indicate him at all. She wrote 'struggled to keep you', when in fact, there was no doubt of grandpa's loyalty to her at all. It's so strange..." Dahlia looked at her cousins, utterly confused. "Who is she talking about?"

Flashback [Illythian District] In Memoriam