Time Stamp: Day 2 of Spring, AV 496 Age: 13 Purpose: Learning Embalming, Stitching, Malediction, Spiritism |
A swift motion, Sheika didn't even see it coming, but he definitely felt himself hit the ground with a painful thump as he heard the crack echoing. Was it in his head? Outside? He couldn't tell, his ear was ringing. What happened? His mother spoke as she towered over the boy, her gaze not one of anger, but apathy. She cared not if Sheika was turned into a vegetable by such a hit. "Do not mourn the dead Sheika. Too much work is to be done. Your father won't last long. You must learn to use him before he is gone, son." Sheika slowly sat back up, his temple throbbing so hard he had actually forgotten he was upset for his father's death. He was a man that truly connected with the child Sheika, well, did. Not anymore. Sheika knelt by his father, it would be his very first time to preserve a body. Technically he wasn't alone, his mother would do most of the work, but she was passing on vital knowledge, he had to learn this. Sheika watched intently as his mother began to place various tools, objects, substance, all of which were mysteries to the kid. He had often wondered what each thing was, but if he dared to interrupt his mother while working, she would hit him. Not a slap, not a spanking, but a punishing blow that often left the boy unconscious or dazed for several minutes. She was a monster. Sheika's mother took up a large wide bowl, placed it between Sheika and his father, then momentarily seated herself on the opposite side of the lich. She looked at Sheika and nodded. "Wash him, Sheika. He must be cleaned and prepared for death." Sheika, not particularly understanding as to why his dead father needed to be bathed, since he was in fact dead, but was not willing to defy his mother. He reached in the bowl of water, taking out from it the soap and cloth she placed there. After forming a lather of soap on said cloth, the child began to work on his father, cleansing the body for preservation. "A body must be cleansed and kept before it can live long." A dead body living at all was a creepy thought to Sheika, or at least was at this point in time. He, of course, did not understand his mother's ideas just yet though, how she thought, the things she saw or how she saw them. "A body can be used for feasting, but even more so, it can be used for power. Your father was weak, that is why you are half as weak as he and half as strong as I, but you can overcome your weaknesses with the dead. Do you understand Sheika?" Sheika nodded as he gently scrubbed his father's pale face, the eyes were staring straight up into the sky, his mouth crooked, hanging open, it all felt so wrong. It almost felt disgusting, and if he hadn't seen this so many times before, Sheika would not have been able to do even this, even if it wasn't his father. Sheika didn't understand though. He knew his mother was the queen of them, their small family group, and his father was a timid man by Myrian standards, a real disgrace actually. Something Sheika would learn to be hated for, or simply to overcome. His mother nodded in return, neither convinced of her Son's ability to grasp nor willing to punish him for it yet. Work was to be done. Sheika began to work on his father's neck, always gently rubbing the soapy cloth across the skin, knowing that it was as fragile as glass, any damages would hurl his mother into an unholy fury, not even the most violent of storms could match his mother's wrath. After several minutes of scrubbing the cadaver with water and soap, Sheika had to dry the body, from head to toe, another step, his mother insisted, was necessary for the process. |
