faderift | So, I'll sing Hallelujah

WHO: Beleth, Kit's CR, Kit in spirit
WHAT: Kit's slightly belated funeral service, come pay your respects.
WHEN: Backdated to a bit after he died bc I suck
WHERE: A forest outside of Kirkwall
NOTES: Death, grieving, I'm so sorry this is late

Beleth had tried to speak to Orzammar--argue with them, more like, and had only stopped when she realized that she was more likely to cause a diplomatic incident than get them to agree to take his body. So, as she usually did when people failed to meet her expectations, Beleth took it into her own hands.

Kit's funeral is a bit of a mishmash between dwarven culture and Dalish--Beleth had to draw from somewhere, after all, and she knew more about Dalish funerals than any other. Kit's body is buried in a nice clearing in the forest, body lined with stones instead of branches. Instead of a tree, there's a large rock marking his grave, his name carved into the stone.

The songs sung aren't in Elven, nor are they Dwarven funeral songs. But they're still somber, and full of grief of a life lost.

Anyone who knew Kit and wishes to send him off is invited, and to the wake held afterwards. It takes place, in what seems to be most fitting for Kit's memory, in the Hanged Man. Food (from Beleth, decent quality) and drink (from the tavern, dubious quality) is provided, and people are free to mingle, drink, get rowdy, and remember a man who fit a lot of living into being dead.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. Funeral

Cyril doesn't know how to feel about this. He and Kit weren't very close, all things considered. They had been little more than a one night stand, and yet he feels and odd sense of loss when he thinks about the man.

The world lost someone good when it lost Kit. That should be mourned, even if Cyril isn't sure what he thinks of the afterlife, he wants to be here to show that he knows how sad it is that Kit is gone.

He keeps to himself during the funeral, ending up very quiet and contemplative, though supportive of those around him.

II. Wake

People who are close to Cyril know he usually avoids drinking while in crowds. During big events he'll usually keep one drink and nurse it throughout the night. He doesn't like being intoxicated in front of others - doesn't like losing that control.

During this wake, though, he already has a couple of drinks in front of him just the first hour in. Apparently he's not dealing with his complicated emotions over this well.

Nari considers waving Cyril over to join her, but decides on the opposite. He isn't looking at her in any case, more fixed on a point somewhere in the slowly growing collection of glasses. She moves over, placing her own still-full glass on the tabletop somewhere where it'll ensure her appearance is noted, and settles down onto a stool which creaks predictably.

He looks over at her and offers a gentle smile. "Hello lethallan," he greets her as she sits.

"It was a lovely service, wasn't it?"

"It was," Nari says with a nod, "Beleth did well by him."

She rolls the cracked glass she brought with her between her fingers, watching the amber liquid move around, and then taps it with a nail. It's too loud to hear the small tink noise it made. "Kit and I were drinking this together the last night I saw him," she says.

Cyril nods in agreement and acknowledgment of Beleth's work. She always managed to do well. It was reassuring to know Kit's services were under her care.

He smiles gently, the expression tinged with guilt, as she shared the memory of Kit. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, giving her a place where she could talk if she wished.

"We were just talking about living while you can," she says, "It's... even more poignant now." Painfully so. It didn't hurt like Sina-- nothing could hurt like Sina-- but it was a loss. She was almost sadder for Kit than she was for the loss of him. Despite himself he had wanted so much to love. Be loved. Had held back out of some kind of razor edged compassion, not wanting to hurt any partner he might have.

If anyone had deserved that kind of happiness it had been Kit. (Despite herself, Nari's eyes flit about the bar briefly looking for gold)

"It takes a lot of courage to do that, I think," she muses, returning to looking at Cyril. "You're one of the strongest people I know, when it comes to that."

Cyril grimaces slightly. "I'm not so sure," he admitted after a moment. "I'm good at pretending more than anything." He drinks deeply from his mug and then considers her.

"Sorry. I don't want to make this about me. This is about the loss of a good man. A man I wish I had known better. He and I had fun, sure, but I feel as if he could have been a valued friend."

"You're certainly not pretending to be with Sam," Nari says. She's seen the depth of care between the two of them enough over the years. "Nor have I ever seen you be stinting with your care for anyone else." She says it like she's nearly in awe of such a thing, gazing into her glass. "If there's anything in life that requires more courage than--" she pauses briefly, as if the act of even saying the next word requires bravery she doesn't have "--love, then I don't know it."

Despite himself, Cyril manages to look a little embarrassed at that. He has a hard time with love himself. It had taken so long for him to even admit that he had feelings for Sam.

"I know what you mean. Do you know it took Sam turning into a dog and overhearing me talk about him for him to even know I had developed those sorts of feelings for him? I was so terrible at talking to him."

"Really?" Nari's eyebrows dart upwards in sincere shock.

Cyril had always seemed to navigate affairs of the heart with ease. Perhaps it was just a seeming, or perhaps she just had... no frame of reference whatsoever. It wasn't so long ago that the entire idea of having 'those sorts of feelings' was so completely foreign that being good or bad at it was as irrelevant to her as how skillfully a cake had just been baked in Val Royeaux.

"I..." she pauses and the corner of her mouth twitches amusedly. "That's... honestly comforting."

"Well, then I'm happy to be of service," he offers her. "If it helps, I have a lot of problems saying, well, that 'l' word. Even right now. It closes up my throat." He winces a bit and drinks some more as if it will help clear out the lump.

"I'm really good at friendship, Nari. And sex. And sometimes both at the same time. Anything else, honestly terrifies me."

Considering what she's good at reveals carving, carpentry, and remembering what blend of tea someone likes best. Things she is not good at: understanding why the very mention of the concept of physical intimacy has begun to make her spring a cold sweat.

"You are, lethallin. A good friend," Nari says. And drinks. The burn of it is clarifying. "I think it's okay to be scared of things. But perhaps... we ought to try not to be so scared that we pass a moment by-- or let it pass by us. I think that would make Kit happy." She pauses to think, and then, "how did you meet him?"

"I first met him when I was helping with the Qunari. After that..." He pauses, not wanting to be too lewd given the circumstances. "We spent a very nice night together. He was very giving, though it never made we beyond that. I'd like to think we probably would have been friends, though, had we done more.

He was a very good man."

"He was." Nari nods in agreement. She reaches with her glass to tap the rim to Cyril's, drinks to Kit's memory. Stares into the candlelight swimming in the rest of the drink. "What-might-have-beens are... hard," she says after a moment. The hand close to him being occupied, Nari dips her head to touch his shoulder.

Cyril reaches up and puts his hand over hers on his shoulder. He knows that there's a lot of grief that she has had to shoulder over the years, and some of the most painful of it happened recently.

"The people who are gone wouldn't want us to dwell on what could have been, I think, but rather to celebrate what was."

Somehow Cyril has ended up comforting her rather than the other way around— a not unfamiliar state of affairs— and Nari smiles a bit sadly. Perhaps, like Kit, he finds some grace through it. She's not going to deny him that, if so.

"Agreed," she says, "And perhaps even to look to the future."

[lmk if there's anything you want to get to with Cy here! Otherwise we can probably leave it?]

So, I'll sing Hallelujah

Cyril

II

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