Solo [The Mourner's Rest] Death smells like Flowers

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

16th of Summer 517AV

"This, indeed, seems to be it." Grim spoke to nobody in particular, his gaze stretching over the building that raised in front of him.

Somehow, it stood out from the rest of Riverfall. Where other structures were adorned with colorful facades and lacquered woodwork, the Mourner's Rest was as if ripped from another part of the world, and placed there, at the water's edge. If he did not know of it's purpose, the Eiyon would have thought of it to be something stuck in the middle of construction, a bare skeleton of stacked stone.

Exactly how he liked it.

The raven haired man took a step towards the grassy door, reluctant to enter. He did not wish to appear unskilled to Goora, his new mentor and employer. Yet, he saw no graveyard around the structure, just a garden of neatly trimmed grass. What would they even do with the bodies? Insight was denied to him seeing as there were no windows for him to peer inside the slaten box.

"Should be done by sunset." He spoke, nudging the crow that rested on his shoulder. With that, Dusk flapped wearily his dark wings, before ascending into the air, his direction being the city that raised some distance away.

"How long do you plan on standing there?" Came a gruff, although unmistakably feminine voice from inside.

Startled, the Eiyon took another second to absorb the exterior, before entering the darkness. Well, she seemed friendly enough.

The room that welcomed him was quite bare, stripped of everything unnecessary - such as furniture. It was, likewise notably colder that the outside. The walls were thick, and served as a decent enough isolation. If they do not bury the bodies, Grim thought, keeping the from warmth was crucial. He could smell no rot in the dry air, nothing but death. And... flowers?

"You must be Goora." He would speak, curving his lips in what was a pleasant smile.

The woman in front of him appeared to already be in the process of preparing a body for the funeral rite. She was rather old, though somehow, retained both the the grace and finesse if someone twice younger. Then again, maybe she was just too much of an expert in her field. There were more than a few rumors circulating around the taverns Grim frequented. And from what he has heard, she used to be a warrior of great merit back in her day, brutal and fearsome.

Yet, Grim felt all but intimidated. It was strange, in a way. He knew that she too, was marked by Dira, two times in fact. It might be simply because she is the first Eiyon that he had ever seen, or just that the goddess had seen something in the both of them. Whatever the reason, he felt as if they were of the same kin.

Granted, the fact that she still said nothing, letting the Raven haired man stand a few places from her idle, made the situation no less awkward.

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

Grim never could tell if an Akalak was young or old, since in his eyes at least, they all looked the same. Thus, concluding anything, other than the fact that he died a violent death, was impossible. The Eiyon's eyes narrowed as they went over the deadman's blue skin. It was pale, and appeared sickly, veins clearly visible on his arms and neck. Numerous lacerations adorned his chest and arms Grim saw, both thin and shallow, as well as wide and deep. He was clearly engaged in combat in the last moments of his life. How odd, the raven-haired man thought, wondering where he would find a chance to receive such bodily injury.

If he were still in Sunberth, Grim could certainly understand, seeing as brutal brawls and fights were common. But, wasn’t Riverfall supposed to be better than that?

Still, none of those injuries seemed to be what ended his earthly existence. A gaping wound was located just above his collar bone. It was as if it was made with a stake, and not a weapon. Far too thick, the Eiyon thought as he came to examine it further. Mayhaps an animal of some sort?

Goora raised her head for a brief moment, shooting Grim a meaningful look, before gesturing towards the body with her unoccupied hand. She was in the process of cleaning the body, it seemed. One of her hands held his arm, while the other alternated between holding a grey washing cloth, and some rolled tobacco. There was still earth, sweat and grime sticking to his blue skin, as well as ribbons of blood trailing from still open wounds. If they were to clean the bodies, he concluded, they were probably going to end up on display. Some of the wealthier folk even commissioned that service from Jebediah. Grim saw no point in such actions, but a job was a job.

Sliding his raven robes off his shoulders, Grim piled them in another stone table, unoccupied at the moment, before rolling his sleeves and picking up a rough piece of washing cloth, one not unlike the one Goora held. Approaching cautiously, Grim allowed his pale hand to touch the shoulder of the dead Akalak. Instantly, his mind was filled with images of the deadman’s last moments. At first, they were difficult to make out, with flashes of blue, and green combining in swirls of color.

However, as his palm lingered, Grim could start forming a scene. At the same time, he ripped the cotton in the washing liquid, only to behind swiping the area around the wounds, copying what the elder Eiyon did. He saw Akalak, a group of them, stalking trough tall grass, weapons in hand. With hushed tones, they muttered words to each other. Even though Grim could not understand the majority of it, it was evident that they discussed tactics. Several moments later, they were engaged in combat with a creature the Eiyon could not recognize, trading glancing blows. It took form of a large avian, too large to be able to fly. It snapped it’s beak at the group that tried to circle it, and attack from as many directions as possible. However, one of the Akalak, the one laying at the table in front of him, separated himself from the group too much. The creature pounced, and the vision ended there.

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

“Was he a hunter?” Asked Grim as he dragged the cloth down the Akalak's shoulder and forearm, leaving behind a trail of wet, shining skin. Just then did he realize that the liquid was more than just water. It let loose a pleasant smell of lavender, and, in fact, made the Akalak look almost healthy again.

The Myrian woman glanced in his direction in surprise, only to answer flatly, understanding of his lack of what was common knowledge in Riverfall. One of the most, interesting at least, things that both of them, as Eiyon’s could do, was observe the final moments of ones life. Certainly made, what was without a doubt a boring job, more interesting. Entertaining even. At that moment, Grim wondered how many deaths did Goora see. “What you have seen, is him failing his Trial.”

In some internal agreement, the two Eiyon would each take care of one half of the body. They however stood clear from the wounds, for the moment at least. Later, they would probably need to stitch them, Grim supposed. Even so, what was to be done after, he could only imagine. While the thought of asking came to mind, up until now, the whole process was rather intuitive – even if he was doing only one job.

“What is a trial, exactly?” The younger of the two Eiyon inquired casually. While he was working, might as well ask. After all, the only foolish question is the one not asked, or so his father used to say, at least.

“A few young fools set out to kill a glassbeak!” The gouger replied instantly, longing her washcloth back into the basin, her work for now, finished. “If you kill one, you get to call yourself a man. If not...” She let her sentence trail, the implication being clear, seeing the condition of the one laying in front of them. It was a fool’s errand, Grim thought, growing at the thought of throwing one’s life away for no reason. In his eyes, the whole Akalak society was defective, and was in need of drastic change. If only Riverfall had other people governing it...

“Are pointless customs that common here?”

“Pointless?” The old Myrian repeated, snorting at Grim’s statement. “Nothing that weeds out the weak can be called pointless.” Encouraging needless slaughter. Overpopulation was not a problem, nor was the city stricken with poverty. Grim thus, saw no reason for it to exist. Then again, not being a kuvan, his opinion mattered little. Such was the Akalak society, he supposed.

“Do you know how to sew, or stitch?” Asked the woman then, interrupting his train of thought. She released a sizeable gust of smoke from her wrinkled lips, eyeing him up trough the veil. She did not appear convinced that he knew he to preform the task, and she would be right. After all, Grim never held a needle and thread in his life. But, he was a quick learner, and a confident one at that. How hard could it be?

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

Pretty hard, as Grim would find out soon. The first of, surely, the many challenges to come at his new workplace was simply getting the thread to go trough the unfairly small hole the needle so gracefully provided him with. Granted, the thread used for stitching was somewhat thicker than one would imagine, true. Yet, it would constantly twist and bend in the most odd of directions each and every time Grim would pinch it, attempting to bring the ruffled end trough the iron crevice. He inwardly cursed at his incompetence at what was, seemingly, a mundane and simple task.

Goora chuckled slightly, finding her answer. Opting to demonstrate instead of tell, she grabbed another sewing set, and went to work on another wound on the other side of the body. Pulling the cotton string trough her mouth, she straightened any rogue strands, and pierced the needle with ease that could only come with ears of experience. Grim watched carefully, attempting to dissolve her expert technique into smaller parts, ones more easy to observe, and more importantly, absorb.

He began copying her moves, allowing the string to take in the moist of his lips. While the above mentioned process was still easier, it took him well above a few additional tries to get it right, and begin his work. As his eyes went over the injuries and lacerations at his side of the carcass, the Eiyon set to finish up the smaller ones first. He would worry about the bigger ones later.

Much to his satisfactions, some of the cuts did not even need stitching, a fact confirmed by Goora, who did all the wounds in order, avoiding the cuts that were below a certain depth and size.

"You can start now." The Myrian woman said, her tone commanding more than anything else. "They won't bite."

"I'll take your word for it." The younger Eiyon joked, as he did always in a situation where he was nervous or uncomfortable.

Taking one deep breath, and then a shallow one, he narrowed his eyes at his select target, a cut just below the ribcage, it seemed. It was most likely not lethal, he supposed, but without a doubt painful. Trough the flesh, a toe of white stuck out, revealing a bit of bone. A good place to start as any. And so, he pressed the sharp tip of his sewing needle next to the cut skin, only to be corrected by Goora the very moment he did. Apparently, it did posed her no problem to do her part of the work effectively, and keep an eye on his own.

"Move the needle farther away from the wound." She said curtly, before returning to her own work.

Then Grim realized exactly why. The flesh appeared to be notably weaker near the cut, and would, should he had pierced there, most likely not held, and eventually ripped. Swallowing, Grim took her advice and moved the needle further down, just where the purple surrounding the injured flesh ended.

"Move it closer now." She said again, startling Grim, who just tought that he had it right.

This was not what undertaking was about, he thought as he relocated the needle. Hauling bodies, burying them deep enough, that was what he was doing up until then. He never had to make them really pretty, or whatever they were doing at the moment. Right then, it seemed that there was far more that he had yet to learn about "his" craft, if he could even call it that.

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

Some time later, Grim was still deeply immersed at his job. Goora on the other hand, had finished her part of the work a long time ago, and was now sitting at one of the vacant nearby tables, observing her apprentice trough a cloud of smoke. She at least, seemed to be enjoying her tobacco quite a lot. And it suited her, in a way, Grim thought, casting a quick glanced under his eyelashes. This whole place did. And, somehow, even though he was there for only a part of one day, he felt that it suited him too.

So, with a smile crossed on his face, he continued working.

One hand would pinch the injured tissue, with the area between his index finger and thumb bridging over the wound itself. Applying just the right amount of pressure, he would bring the two separated sides closer to one another, allowing for his other hand to work. Puncturing flesh that was in the process of decaying was easier than it seemed, and unlike stitching a living person, it tended to move around a lot less. That mentioned, it did not seem that the bodies would be embalmed, or in any way preserved, Grim noted as he drew the needle from one side of the wound to the other. That, in turn, meant that they would, most likely be buried, or burnt soon. However, the fluid used to clean their skin did well to, at least, slow the process of decaying. It certainly did wonders for most of the stench.

As he worked, Grim made a number of, almost invisible punctures, the thread following the butt of his needle in a zig-zag pattern. The thread itself was blue in color, probably with the intent of matching the tan of the deceased. The younger Eiyon also noted that the blue thread came in various shades. A handy commodity, seeing as they were attempting to bring the body back to being as life-like as possible.

Before he had noticed, dark had fallen over Riverfall, and its surroundings. Moonlight came in abundance trough the open roof, and paired with a few torches, they provided all the illumination in the building. And so, the body of the unfortunate Akalak was almost stitched and sewn back together, with Grim just tying the knot on the last wound. Even the graver injuries, despite their rather intimidating look, closed just as well as the ones Grim began operating on first.

"You did good kid." Said Goora flatly, almost as soon as the raven-haired man completed the knot.

"Thanks, i guess." The younger of the two Eiyon said, a sheepish smile adorning his pale face. He was rather happy that he "did good", even though it had took him so long for such a simple task.

"Come earlier tomorrow." The elder ordered as Grim went to pick up his robes. He halted at the curtained exit, feeling that she had yet more to say. "Death never waits for your shift."

"Don't worry, i know."