The world itself had screamed in anguish when he’d died.
But now, faced with a fossilized skull bigger than she was, Bestla had been forced to shift plans again. She would be digging for the rest of her life and risking the health of her trees and plants if she tried to burrow out a big enough hole in the dirt. Besides, she’d already noted several varieties of peepling swarming the skull and trilling excitedly. The pretty little things swooped and spun in the air and though they couldn't have possibly been alive when the Lord was… They seemed to know exactly who and what the skull was. They were happy. She couldn’t take that away from them.
Hell, she couldn’t take it away from herself.
Taking her eyes from the skull for a moment, Bestla studied the grove. It was, overall, a massive space. The skull sat… not quite in the middle and there was still plenty of space around it. The trees above it swayed in the wind and set the windchimes she’d attached to the branches to singing. Even the little strings of fairy lights and multiple sun catchers she’d put up sent dapples of light dancing around.
It was beautiful. And it would be so, so wrong to seal what was left of the Lord away from it. How long had he lay forgotten and unhallowed before Almadel had come and found him? And then sitting in that Museum for who knows how long. The Merchant had taken exquisite care of the Lord’s skull. That was plain fact. And he’d returned it when asked. He’d brought the Lord home. Now, it was her job to make sure the great beast was at rest.
With a sigh, Bestla pushed herself up and stretched, dusting bits of earth and bark from her skirts. Stepping closer to the skull, she leaned in close and circled it, as much as she could, with her arms. Was it weird to be standing on a rock out in space and hugging a skull? Probably. But this rock and this skull were both incredibly special and dear to her and she wanted to do everything she possibly could to bring them both peace.
Stepping away, she looked up into the trees and considered. It wouldn’t be too hard to construct a bower of sorts. Create a little shrine around the skull. She had plenty of leftover bits of silk fabric from costuming jobs that she’d brought up. Even a few bolts of some filmy, pretty stuff that she’d gotten on sale and hauled up here, intending to use it to make new banners and flags to hang in the trees. Of course, that had been before the trees had started to come back to life and she’d decided to leave the fabric for the moment. But now…? Taking a closer look around, she noticed fallen trees that could be wrangled, large rocks that had once been part of some building or other. She didn’t need anything elaborate or closed in. Just a simple structure…
Feeling electrified, Bestla raced for the place where she kept things like food, water and tools here. She’d brought up a portable axe at one point, thinking she might need it to help clear dead brush. And, to some degree, it had served that purpose, though at the time, she’d vastly overestimated just how much dead wood she’d be needing to move. Point was, the axe was still here. She didn’t care how long it would take to chop through, she had a means now of using some of the fallen trees now.
Tucking the axe into her waist sash, she rooted through her things until she found some pencils and a notebook. Grabbing them as well, she re-entered the Grove and estimated some measurements. Then, she went hunting for the rocks she’d seen. When she found them, she couldn’t help the grin that flickered over her lips. The rocks were large, mostly flat. A great many had crumbled under the years, but enough remained whole and in decent shape for what she wanted. And right now, that was to create a sort of floor around the skull. A foundation.
To say the work was grueling might have been an understatement. Bestla had discarded her boots at some point, preferring to risk crushed toes to turned or broken ankles. Clearing and smoothing the earth around the skull, she set each stone down carefully, creating a sort of circular ‘floor’. Granted, she had no means to work the stone or shape it. And she absolutely could not move the skull on her own to slide stones under it. But by dint of lots of digging and careful placement, she managed to make it look like the skull rested fully on the stone. Any gaps were filled with carefully snipped bits of flowering shrubberies. By the time she was satisfied with what she’d done, it looked like the Lord nested on the rock and had plantlife growing gently around it. It would work.
Stumbling to her food cache, Bestla threw herself down and downed an entire two bottles of water before forcing down a protein bar. Her entire body ached, but it was worth it. Once she’d rested, she’d tackle the trees she’d picked out as good donors for building materials. She didn’t even need that much. Just enough to create a sort of protective roof that she could hang in the trees surrounding the Grove. She had vague ideas for how to make it look like it was floating unhindered. She was mostly sure she could make her idea workable. But just creating a protective structure wasn’t really burying the dead. All the funerals she’d ever been to in her life had been dour, depressing things. Not at all what she wanted for the Lord.
Trouble was, she thought as she threw herself to the ground for a full body stretch and rest, she wasn’t sure what sort of service was appropriate for this. She wasn’t religious. She certainly wouldn’t have been religious, as she understood the term, back then. So how was she to say goodbye properly? Fittingly?
Almost as if it had been waiting for her to consider the problem, ghostly memory swept up and carried Bestla off through flickering and dancing images…
She saw and felt herself gathering certain mosses and mushrooms that grew in little sheltered cavelets and dells. Smelled the sharp bite of the moss as she crushed it between her fingers and smeared the resulting dark blue-green slime across her skin. The rest of what she gathered went into a tiny basket at her waist. Once she had enough, she nodded and then vision faded.
Now, she sat in the grove, chopping and grinding the things she’d gathered, mixing the juices with water until a thin, paint-like substance was left that she smeared across her face and arms. And as she daubed herself, she hummed a soft song under her breath that sounded almost hymn like. The longer she painted, the louder the humming grew until it became full on singing as she ceased painting herself. Carrying what was left of the makeshift paint, she went to what looked like a pyre where the body of… something lay. What it was didn’t matter. It was a creature of Bestla and as such, was entitled to all the rites.
The paint seemed to glow now and using her fingers, she painted swirls and symbols upon the creature’s face and body. Her song held words now. Words of release, respect and courage. Death and what came after were not things to fear, after all. The painted symbols would help to light the way, a sort of soul map so that the creature found where it was meant to go.
Only when the paint was used up did she step back. Her song had no words now, just an ululating ribbon of sound that would keep the soul company until it reached the stars…
Waking up with a gasp, Bestla groaned as her sore and stiff body revolted against moving. With gritted teeth, she forced herself to sit up and then, carefully, to stand. She had to move while the vision was fresh. Before memory grew clouded. She knew those little cavelets she’d seen. And she was pretty sure she recognized the plants she’d seen too. It took longer than she’d liked to get there, but when she did, she carefully gathered up anything that looked familiar, even going so far as to crush and smear the moss juice across her face. The smell was bright. Clean. Invigorating. Smiling a little, she took what she felt could be safely harvested and practically ran back to the Grove.
When she got there, she hauled out what she had that could be used to chop and crush, mixing everything into an old wooden bowl she’d brought up. Taking a bottle of water, she poured and mixed. Sure, the resulting glop was a bit chunky, but except for that, it was what she’d seen. Using her fingers to paint symbols on her arms and bared legs. Stripes and swirls went up her neck and face and the best stars she could manage went wherever there was an empty speck of skin. Considering herself properly painted, the senshi ran towards the skull and paused before it. She was humming the same notes she’d heard, but the words… She had no idea what the words had translated to, she had only sensed the meaning. But maybe the words didn’t matter as much. So she made up her own and sang to the Lord’s skull. Told it how loved he had been. How sorry she was that she hadn’t been there then but she was here now. And she was never, ever, letting anything harm her homeworld again. He could rest easy now. His soul was free.
As she sang, she painted visual representations of her words on the smooth, white bone. As she worked, she heard soft trilling around her and realized that the peeplings had come out and were joining in her song with their thin, silvery voices. As they zipped and darted around her, Bestla grinned and tried to copy some of their movements, dancing and weaving around the skull as she painted.
Finally, the paint was used up and darkness fell, causing the paint and plants surrounding them to glow faintly. Bestla pirouetted before brushing her hands against the massive skull.
“You’re free now, old friend,” she whispered. “Let the stars light your way home.”
Then, as she remembered, she sang a note that grew and dipped and danced before going soft and still. Around her, the peeplings considered to chirp and dip, one or two braver souls even coming to rest on her shoulders, nuzzling into her hair and clucking. Laughing a little breathlessly, Bestla only just managed to keep her hands to herself, not wanting to scare them off now that they liked her. Standing across from the skul, she wondered, now, if she really needed to put a roof over it and close it in. Now, the thought seemed grotesque. As he was now, he looked right. He belonged. And if anything, all that was really needed were some poles to drape fabric across. The paint would fade and wash away on its own and leave the skull unharmed. He’d been a creature of the forest and wilds after all. It would be wrong to shut him away.
A sudden warmth against her skin accompanied that thought. At first, she didn’t think much of it, but the peeplings startled and she glanced down and saw glowing markings appear on her skin, looking like a tattoo. Touching what she could see, she couldn’t feel anything untoward. And a suspicion caused her fingers to brush against her forehead. Her tiara was gone. Faded away, atomized, she didn’t know how these things worked. But she knew the name for this phenomena.
Transcendence.
Even as she thought the word, she heard a loud and rusty CLICK break the silence. Within a pile of stone rubble, what looked like a cleverly made little door had popped open. Approaching it slowly, warily, Bestla knelt and examined it. A very cleverly constructed little safe had been hidden within a block of stone. Gingerly reaching in, she felt something cool and smooth and metallic. Taking what she found out, she studied it in the dim light. A small disc, set with the same sort of gems that decorated her fuku. It was pretty, whatever it was. Setting it flat in her hand to better study, she brushed against the center jewel and nearly fell backwards from shock as the thing hummed gently and a little holographic peeling appeared. Tilting its head, a sweet, oddly bell-like voice said, ‘Greetings, Sailor Bestla. How may I assist you today?’
Word Count = 2292
