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 Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2011 6:38 pm
(OOC: This takes place in the past, when Fjolnir is just a juve, barely out of cubhood, and Spectre is about adolescent) The pink little cub felt almost as if his flesh would fall off his bones from how hard he was shivering. He felt chilled to the bone in spite of knowing full well that it was a warm night. It was really strange.
The sight in front of him was just as strange. He couldn't say for how long he had been looking at it, but the terrible, lanky monkeys had left a long time ago, and the air was gradually getting brighter. Daylight did absolutely nothing to make the scene before him make any more sense. If anything, it just looked more grotesque.
One day ago... that had been his mother. Bright pelt, soft voice, warm tongue, kind eyes. A big and loving person, someone you could snuggle up to, and feel safe with. Now, it was just a... pile of flesh. Blood and meat. Like what you would usually eat. That thought, coupled with the shivers and the overpowering, stinging stench that the monkeys' noisy deathsticks had left behind, made him suddenly and violently ill, and the first sounds to escape him since his mother had thrown him into this bush were those of convulsive retching.
When there was nothing left in his stomach, he suddenly felt drained, tired beyond all reason. Big, heavy tears begun flowing freely down his face, and his shivering little body was racked with sobs.
"Ma....ma... Mama... Mama..."
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 5:34 am
 For the last few months, the lion had wandered about in a daze. It would have been impossible for him to clarify how long he had behaved in this manner, but such was the consequences on what he had previously experienced. What he had awoken to still haunted his dreams and rather than stay in the immediate vicinity in which it had occured, he had forced himself to walk, and keep walking. As a result he had now placed considerable distance between his former homeland and his current position - in fact, he'd travelled so many miles that he found himself in the presence of a jungle. Suffice to say that this was perhaps one of the most foreign things he had ever stumbled across in his life...
Alas, there was something not quite right about it and as he drew to a halt, he turned his head both left, and then right, in an attempt to discern exactly what it was. He couldn't quite put his paw on it but things almost seemed too quiet. This was an impossible concept for him to grasp, as even in the depths of the savannah, when most of the water had dried up, there was still signs of life. At the very least he had expected to hear the chirp of bugs - but this jungle, despite it's array of colours and flowers, had absolutely nothing. It spooked him, if he was going to be honest about things, it gave him that uneasy feeling that he had only previously felt in his homeland.
He was so unsettled that he had been of the opinion that he should leave, immediately, but no sooner had he turned and lifted a paw then he caught the sound of what appeared to be wretching and weeping. The adolescent's eyes widened in alarm and despite his own discomfort, he slinked further in. The closer he came, the more clear the voice was and the more aware he became of the fact that the weeping individual was a child. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on perception), it wasn't long before the luminescent male had bridged the distance between himself and the crying child, only to be greeted with...
"Oh sweet mother of the gods," he uttered, his jaw going slack at the scene that lay before his eyes and the cub before him. He knew that what he had experienced had been bad, but this, this was on a whole new level entirely. Unsurprisingly, it took the blue lion a short moment to regather both his thougths and composure before he flicked his gaze to Fjolnir. "Are you all right, are you hurt?" he enquired softly. There was no use in asking about the corpses on the ground, it was fairly obvious those were dead.
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 7:29 am
The sound of a friendly voice cut through the pink cub's paralyzing grief and almost startled him, if he had had any energy left to be startled. For the briefest moment, the thought that one of the skinless corpses had stood up and walked over to him made his blood run cold, and he quickly turned his head around, terror as evident in his face as the tears still streaming down it.
But it wasn't a corpse that had spoken to him. It wasn't even a lion from the pride - not that there were any left. Fjolnir hiccuped distractedly as he took in the sight of the luminous, unknown young lion, He had never seen a pelt that colour before, even in the vivid colours of his own pride. This boy looked like he was glowing, like the moon or the stars... Somehow, Fjolnir felt calmer. After all the inexplicable things that had happened during the night, meeting a glowing boy seemed even logical.
He forgot what the boy had asked him, but it didn't seem to matter much, somehow. He turned around so that he fully faced the stranger, and rubbed his face with the side of one paw, accomplishing nothing really, except smearing dirt across his tear-streaked face.
"Are you a ghost?" He asked, tilting his head to one side. He wasn't scared anymore. He felt as if nothing could ever scare him again. In a way, he was rather hoping that this older boy would somehow turn out to be a spirit creature. Maybe he had died without noticing it, and the glowing lion had come to take him to where his real mother, and the rest of his pride, had gone to. "Am I dead, too?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 4:49 am
Something tugged at the 'glowing' lion's heartstrings in that moment, it would have also been accurate to say that he had been struck with a sense of deja vu. Those were questions he had asked himself, in similar circumstances, the only difference between his own situation and the small cub's was the level of brutality and the fact that he had someone to speak to. In some respects it might have been kinder to confirm the child dead and put him out of his misery, but Spectre was not of this mindset and had always been raised in the belief that life was special. Consequently, Fjolnir was not likely to receive the comfort that he genuinely desired, well, not in an immediate sense at least.
"You would be surprised how often I'm asked that," he replied softly, a hint of a sad smile upon his lips. All things considered, now probably wasn't the best time for jest, but Spectre was presented with this query more often than he could keep track of. "No, I am no ghost even if I might resemble one and well...wander about in dark areas," he continued and cleared his throat. For all intents and purposes he certainly followed the stereotype of a spirit, the only difference was that he happened to be alive. "And fortunately for you..." he spoke again and then hesitated, a voice in his mind questioning whether or not it truly was fortunate.
It was.
"You are not dead," he murmured and stepped forward. It was at this point that he extended his paw and wiped the dirt from the cub's cheek using the upper part of his paw rather than the padded base. It didn't remove the dirt completely, but it was certainly an improvement upon the tear stained smear that had been there before. "Eyes are on you from a high vantage point, somebody didn't wish to extinguish your life just yet," he added. Pausing, he glanced round at the fallen bodies, his jaw tightening at the state they had been left in. Having never encountered a human before, he couldn't possibly begin to imagine what devil could possibly have mutilated these corpses - even hyenas had more tact.
"...They can't be left like this," he said finally, heaving a very uncomfortable sigh. Now that he had clarified that the cub was unharmed, he couldn't ignore the bodies. They deserved the proper rites and a respectable burial. "If you want you can sit here while I uh...while I bury them, they won't rest peacefully like this," he explained, his expression decidedly uncomfortable as he looked towards Fjolnir once again. Suffice to say that the white lion had very little experience dealing with cubs, let alone in this type of situation and as such, had absolutely no idea how to proceed in an appropriate manner!
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 10:50 am
The touch of the other lion brought Fjolnir back to reality, somehow. And with reality came the pain, and the heart-stopping grief. He tried to find some sort of comfort in the older boy's words, but it was so hard to understand how some greater force could have wanted to spare him, but take away every kind soul in his pride.
He sat for a moment, his exhausted body slowly starting to shake again, and tried to get his head around the older boy's kind words. He didn't want to look at the bodies, not yet. It would destroy everything, somehow. If he looked at them now, he knew somehow that he would never again be able to believe that the world was a just and beautiful place.
When Spectre turned back to Fjolnir, the little cub rose on shaky legs and walked unsteadily over to him, pushing his white-fluffed head against the glowing boy's leg to hide the tears that begun spilling from his eyes again.
"You're warm," he sobbed. Suddenly a wave of indescribable pain welled in over him, and his paws could not carry him any more. He sank down on his belly, still pressing his head against Spectre's paw. "You're real," he whimpered.
And somehow, that was all it took. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe that was why he was lucky to still be alive. To be alive was to be warm. To be alive was to be able to feel the warmth of another. He sucked in a couple of deep breaths of air, mingled with the scent of death, and life, and warmth, and somehow his crying quieted down.
After a little moment of almost-calm, he tried saying it. "Mama's dead. Everyone's dead." Still a little afraid at looking around, he tentatively looked up into Spectre's impossibly blue eyes. "Can they... rest? What... what happens if they... don't?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 11:16 am
Nobody could have resisted melting at the behaviour of the cub, it was positively heart breaking and Spectre's features creased into an expression of pain. He wasn't physically hurt, he wasn't even emotionally wounded, but the empathy made it all rather overwhelming. He may not have been very old himself, but the cub seemed so impossibly small beside him in those moments and rather than push him further, the blue male did nothing more than release a soft sigh. He lowered himself down just a touch, coiled his tail around the child's form and let him weep for as long as he felt necessary. How anyone dealt with such an impossible situation was something that the lion would never know.
Time passed by and eventually, Fjolnir seemed to quieten. Spectre would never be so bold as to assume that he had recovered completely, but the cub seemed to have regained some of his barings and with it, some composure. All things considered, it would have been a moment that he should have been proud of. He did of course, elect to state the obvious but he couldn't be faulted for this and the older male nodded his head slowly to confirm that what he said was true - it was something that would have been impossible to deny.
"If you don't put those who pass away to bed properly," he began softly, recalling the teaching from when he was younger. "Then their spirits can't find peace. You see, when someone goes to sleep forever they turn into a spirit, while their body sleeps they dream, explore and move on to a brand new world," he continued. It was an obscure tail, he had never really managed to grasp the full concept in relation to the afterlife, but he understood the rough idea behind it all. "The problem is that, the only way they can dream is if they're comfortable and in a den that won't be disturbed..."
"Otherwise they can't find the proper exit and they get stuck here... It's almost as if their paws have been tied down," he explained and then slowly shook his head, his mane puffing up just a touch. "They're not allowed to continue on their journey... so it's important for those who are left behind to make sure they can. It's both a mark of respect to those we love, as well as the last thing we can do for them." He fell quiet for a few moments and took a breath, chewing lightly on his tongue.
"If you give them their dignity and if you make them comfortable, then once their spirits are sure that you're okay, they can finally make peace and move on to the next stage of their journey..." he concluded. Admittedly, he had rambled a bit, but he sincerely hoped he made some sort of sense.
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 11:59 am
Fjolnir listened attentively to Spectre's tale, his yellow eyes serious. He liked the glowing boy's voice, it was calm and gentle, and made him listen just like he always did at storytime. But the story this time was different. It was directly linked to his situation, a situation he had never dreamed he would be in, and could never have anticipated, and so it felt far deeper and more important than any other story, ever.
He nodded contemplatively to himself, feeling a little bit better in thinking that mother and the others were not piles of meat on the ground, they were spirits now, and they weren't in pain, and they would be leaving for some sort of great adventure...
He didn't like the idea that they would leave, without him, but... He finally stole a glance at the grisly scene surrounding them, and remembered that horrible thought that had touched his mind earlier, that one of the mutilated bodies would laboriously shuffle to its feet... He hid his face against Spectre's paw again with a shudder. No. No, it was better that they left. It was much better to let them rest peacefully.
He swallowed once, and separated himself from the bigger boy, trying to collect himself, steel himself for what had to be done.
"When..." his voice broke, and he took a deep breath and tried again. "When uncle Hodir died, they put him in the soft ground by the grove, where all the star-flowers grow. Mama said that... that he would become a flower too. I think..." He swallowed again, against the rising queasiness. "I think... if we can... we should bury them... over there." He looked up at Spectre again. "Should I... show you?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 12:14 pm
It had always brought comfort to Spectre to know that death was not the end of the journey. While no one could truly ever understand what lay beyond their final sleep, the tales that were passed on from generation to generation brought comfort and inspired faith. Inner strength can be found in those moments, even in the darkest of circumstances. Truth be told, it was the only manner in which Spectre had managed to avoid completely crumbling himself. Granted, he had been forced to leave as the memories plagued him, but at least he'd found the strength to bury his kin before he fled the scene... Sometimes, the memories hurt more than the sight of the bodies.
Nevertheless, the lion listened carefully to the cub as he spoke again, his ears flicking here and there. When Fjolnir made reference to a particular grove, his gaze shifted off to the side a little. He had no idea which direction it might be in, but the manner in which Fjolnir spoke of it seemed to indicate that it was some sort of burial ground. It would be the perfect location, though one could only hope that it would be an ample enough size to cope with the unfortunate influx of the deceased.
"Show me where it is," he agreed with a small nod and brought himself to all four paws again, his gaze fixed on the cub so that he could lead the way. "If this is where your uncle sleeps, then it should be a fitting bed for the others as well, especially if they're in the company of such a sweet scent," he continued. A small smile lined his lips, one of warmth and encouragement. Spectre's former pride had decorated their burial grounds at a specific point in the year; the fact that flowers lined the grove that Fjolnir's uncle lay in seemed very appropriate.
"And who knows, she could be right," his smile deepened a little as he dwelled on the words Fjolnir's mother had given her child. "Maybe his adventure was one in which he became a flower," he mused thoughtfully. It may not have been the most dramatic of adventures, but it certainly would have been a respectable one.
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 3:09 pm
Fjolnir returned the nod, and, almost before he knew it, the smile as well. It was a pale, tired little smile, but it felt good on his muzzle and brought him a tiny boost of energy. The scent at the grove was indeed one of the best and sweetest that he knew, and just the thought of being able to drown out the acrid sting of... this place, if only for a while, made him a bit steadier as he got up on his paws.
"I kinda thought it was a bit sad," he admitted as he walked, careful not to step in any dark puddles, and not to look too closely at any of the bodies as he passed by a few of them. "Because, you know, flowers don't live very long." He had to stop for a moment and take a deep breath to push back a sudden dizziness, but he quickly continued and dived in under the leafy underbrush. "So I used to think that he had become the plant, so that he was actually many flowers, and kept blossoming at every new circle." He felt a bit steadier now. Not much, but a little. It helped to have something to focus on, a task to perform. "Because the flowers are all parts of the plant, right? You can pick one of the flowers, but the plant doesn't die just because of that, but if you cut off the plant, all the flowers die even if you don't pick them, I mean."
Then he passed through a screen of fragrant vines, and the grove opened up before them. It was perhaps a little bit small for the massive burden of bodies that needed burial, but it could perhaps be helped if one could just dig deep enough. The white, blue and pink star-shaped flowers that hung on vines all around the little space of soft earth emitted a sweet fragrance that could be pervasive enough to actually help conceal the smell of rotting from any prowling scavengers. It was a still and quiet place, and it was easy to see why it would be a good burial ground.
Fjolnir turned an expectant and a little nervous eye on his companion. The glowing boy seemed to know a lot about burials and death, and Fjolnir felt anxious to hear his opinion of the place.
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 3:32 pm
"I think I prefer how you look at it," Spectre agreed, his smile deepening as he followed the cub towards the grove. It was a more romantic view of the afterlife, but the constant rebirth every cycle and the implications that the blooms were simply an extension of an already existant life force, was certainly one he preferred to embrace. There was an element of poetry to it and one might have suspected that when Fjolnir matured, he would have a way with words - if he didn't, then Spectre would be mightily surprised by the revelation! "Seems much more logical, since the flowers are an extension of the plant and so long as you don't sever it's roots, it'll stay alive," he continued. Was it odd, that something like that could bring him comfort too? It was something that he filed away for later contemplation, he couldn't quite put his paw on it, but there was something special about the imagery and concept.
Seemingly done with conversing for the time being, the lion fell silent and trailed after the cub as he led him through the jungle. Despite the horror that lay behind them, there were elements of beauty everywhere. The sweet scent was undeniable and certainly a pleasure to be in the midst of. When the cub eventually came to a halt at the grove, the blue lion knew instantly why it had been selected as a final resting place. Really, how could it not have been chosen.
"It's beautiful," he murmured softly, his tone one of admiration. He took a moment to glance around, assessing the size of the grove. He couldn't deny that the place was too small to bury them all without careful planning, but it wasn't impossible either. This in mind, he turned to Fjolnir and gave an assertive and appreciative nod. "It'll be perfect for them," he offered encouragingly and took a breath. Mere months ago he would never have seen himself in this position and nor would he have been regarded as anyone who knew overly much about burial rituals or the dead - it was strange how things worked out.
"Do you want to gather some trinkets for them while I dig?" he enquired and tilted his head to one side. "Give them a pretty send off, no?" he clarified. Keeping in mind that this was a burial ground by default, he wasn't entirely sure that Fjolnir would want any more exposure to already buried bodies! Then again, he didn't exactly appreciate the sentiment himself but the cub was simply too small to do this himself...
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 4:03 pm
Spectre's approval of the burial ground made Fjolnir's dirty face light up in an even more genuine smile than before, and he actually felt joyful for a moment. If they put them to sleep here, mother and the others would be able to rest in peace and begin their new journey! There was a sense of accomplishment, just in that.
It was also encouraging that Spectre had approved of his plant/flower idea. He hadn't actually mentioned it to anyone before, it was just something he liked to muse over before he drifted off to sleep, really. But today it felt really urgent. Would mother become a flower-plant too? Or would she become a part of uncle Hodir's plant, somehow? Or maybe her adventure would be something completely different...
His thoughts trailed off at the mention of trinkets, and his smile faded away as a small wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "I... I don't know what would be... good. We only have flowers and pretty rocks and... pretty fish..." He inhaled and continued with a slightly stronger, if a bit forced, tone of voice: "And, anyway, it'll take a lot of time to dig... It'll be a lot of hard work... I can't just let you do it. I'll help. I can gather trinkets after we're done."
His upbringing had told him never to shirk or push hard work over on someone else. He had still done it, of course, in the past (Usually encouraged by Fenja - the thought of his friend flitted only briefly across his mind and was gone again. He had more immediate matters on his mind right now), but this time... he really couldn't stand the idea of doing anything that would have made his mother scold him. Not now.
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 4:53 pm
Fjolnir couldn't be faulted for the sheer level of determination he seemed to exude in those moments. There were some in the world who would have left the more gruesome chores to those who offered. In fact, there would have been some who simply left and ignored their duties entirely. The cub may not have known it yet, but he was bound for good things if he was prepared to take his responsibilities seriously after what he'd been through - his mother had raised him well and Spectre didn't have to meet her to know this.
"If you're sure that you want to do this then fair enough," Spectre murmured gently as he padded deeper into the grove and scouted out an appropriate place to begin. He selected somewhere near the back, using logic moreso than his heart for his decision. While all individuals would aspire to have the 'prettiest' spot, he believed that starting further away and working towards the entrance would mean that the soil wouldn't be unnecessarily disturbed once the fallen had been laid to rest. Besides, with enough attendence, the grove would be glorious at every corner.
"But if it gets too much, then you can stop," Spectre glanced over his shoulder towards the cub and smiled gently, his tone matching his expression. "There's nothing wrong with taking a moment to rest, even if you're scouting for a little trinket, you're still doing your duty," he reassured him. With this in mind he pawed lightly at the ground to test its resistance before he began to dig, spreading his paws so that they resembled spades.
He paused momentarily after a while and sighed.
"After we've done a row, we'll look for gifts... That way we can say goodbye to them properly and leave them to their sleep while we tend to the rest," he glanced at the cub again and tilted his head to the side. "How does that sound? It will help rest our paws and ensure that every spirit receives the same love - whether it be a shiny stone or a pretty flower. All you need to do, is pick which you think best fits them..."
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Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2011 5:00 am
Fjolnir nodded, the determined little wrinkle between his eyebrows deepening with resolve, and followed the older boy's lead. He watched how Spectre spread his paws to move as much dirt as possible, and mimicked him, a little pleased at how much faster the hole grew when they both worked at it. When Spectre paused, Fjolnir kept working for a little while, enjoying the feeling of being hard at work and not having to think, but he soon looked up and considered the blue lion's words.
"Yeah, I think that would be best. If we take a few breaks, we'll have more strength to work. Big-papa Baldir always says it's important to... pace yourself..." He trailed off and a shadow of grief passed over his features. He continued in a smaller voice, close to tears: "Always used to say, I mean." He sobbed and rubbed a little bit of dirt onto his face, then pulled in a shaky breath and returned to his digging with renewed gusto.
"Anyways... if we find bones here, I think we should put them back, in the bottom of the grave. I think they did that when they dug the hole for uncle Hodir." He stopped, suddenly, and looked up at the older boy with wide-eyed astonishment."I... My name is Fjolnir. I'm sorry. I never asked you... What's yours?"
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Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2011 6:22 am
"My father called me Spectre," the lion replied, returning to his digging. He already had a depth in mind, one that would probably require that he helped Fjolnir out of the bottom, but it would be able to house more than one lion if necessary. A part of him wanted to leave these sorts of things for couples, if they were able to rest together then perhaps they would be able to find each other in the next life and continue their journey paw in paw. It was another romanticised view, but one had to draw some comfort from somewhere when dealing with an issue that was so very morbid. "He thought I resembled a little spirit because my fur was much brighter than the rest of my siblings," he clarified, stretching forward to bat away some of the soil from the middle. He then pushed it to the side and patted it down to reinforce the walls.
"I wasn't very well and my mother died shortly after, he thought it was appropriate," he hazarded a smile and then shook his head. His father had held no malice towards him, in fact, the adult had done the same as he was often liable to...he'd romanticised what had happened. "He used to say that she had given her strength to be, so a tiny piece of her still lived on," he finished. Whether or not other individuals believed it was irrelevant, it brought a significant level of comfort to Spectre and ensured he had a bond with both parents, even if he'd only been raised by one.
"With that in mind," he took a breath, nudging another mound of dirt up against the wall and patting it down. "There's nothing to say that a piece of your father isn't still around. If you want to say that's what he always says, then you can. Past tenses aren't always necessary if you don't feel they're appropriate," he finished and fell silent. For now that might bring some comfort to Fjolnir, though in time, perhaps he would reach the point where he felt it was more suitable to use past tense. Everyone had their own way of grieving and they all took varying amounts of time to cope.
Eventually, the lion seemed satisfied with their work and he pointed his paw gently towards Fjolnir. "Now, this is an awkward question but only you can answer it properly. Do you want to let each pair of mates sleep together, or would you want for them to lie separately?" he enquired softly. "If you want them to sleep together then you'll need to show me which is which - after you've done that I can move them into their beds while you hunt for gifts for them," he added. There would be no arguments in this either, Fjolnir simply wasn't large enough to drag any of the bodies (save for those his size) from their current positions to the grove but he did know where to find the prettiest stones, flowers and even fish if necessary.
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Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2011 7:49 am
Spectre. Fjolnir repeated the name quietly to himself a few times, more out of habit than neccessity. It suited the bright blue lion so well, it seemed unlikely he would ever forget it. Fjolnir listened to the older boy's tale of his own family at the same time as he intently studied and applied Spectre's digging techniques. He wondered why the bright boy wasn't with his own family, and where they might be, but he remembered tales of lions that wandered alone, for many different reasons, and had once even met one of these "rogues," who had made him understand that in the pride he came from, young males were expected to leave their pride and find their own somewhere else. It seemed a pretty weird practice to Fjolnir, but he knew he shouldn't be judgemental, and with this in mind he decided not to ask Spectre about it - at least not right now.
He hesitated for a moment when Spectre referred to big-papa Baldir as Fjolnir's father, but quickly understood why the bright boy would draw that conclusion, and he felt the temperature rise a bit under his fur in embarrassment. He kept quiet, though, and focussed on digging a bit while he pondered the best way to clear up the misunderstanding. He looked up attentively when Spectre addressed him again, and felt himself stiffen a bit at the thought of going back to where... all the bodies lay.
He swallowed three times before he nodded, and managed to answer: "Yeah. I'd like it if we could... do that. I think they'd want us to." He stood up and took a few steps towards the grove's exit, but noticed that his legs started shaking again and decided to talk so that he wouldn't have to think too hard about what he was heading towards.
"Um, actually, big-papa Baldir is - was - is - wasn't my father... he was, like, the oldest of the pride, and sometimes the grown-ups calls him 'elder'... but he always told us cubs that he doesn't want to be called grandpa or anything... so we called him big-papa instead. He... liked that."
The pink cub hesitated before the last shrub that stood between him and the scene of the massacre, breathed deeply until he started to feel light-headed, and then resolutely pushed through the bushes. He felt strangely relieved to see that none of the corpses had moved during his absence, even though he logically knew that it would be impossible for them to do so.
Yeah. He could probably do this. He could do this. He had to.
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