Cleaning up after chaos: A post Khan event question

[shardofwinter]

Not everyone who frequents the Nexus was unfortunate enough to be caught up in Khan's attack. Reynard had ended Winter in his own world and engaged in his usual annual seclusion that, as it always did, ended once he had run out of alcohol. The sight of an obliterated Nexus was not the pub crawling paradise he'd remembered it as. It seems that he's missed the action and stumbled into the aftermath. People are tired, disoriented, upset and in shock, or powering through their emotions by helping organise everyone else. Without much of a thought, Reynard falls into a group that is already working to set everything right again. Or as right as things can be set. As it turns out, an atmosphere of destruction and tragedy does wonders for a Spring-sick Winter spirit. 

He looks as awful as he feels, and far more sober than he'd like to be. He's forgone his coat, but kept his gloves on and a makeshift mask for the work at hand. Reynard has volunteered for the grim task of working with the dead. In a shaded area he helps move bodies to rest side by side, covered in shrouds that have started to vary in colour as they run through their supplies. These are the ones who have not, or cannot, be identified. 

It's been a long day, and it's been hard graft, and everything feels hotter than it is, especially with the cloth around his face. Reynard takes his gloves off, leans against the edge of a table, and pulls away the mask, revealing an unkempt beard. "What would you like to happen at your funeral?"

Comments

[chiron_survivor]

Wow, Reynard looks terrible.

She feels bad as soon as she thinks it, but she's never seen him so haggard, and it fills her with concern. She hurries over, wondering what happened to drag him into such a state, before the answer hits her just as quickly.

Spring.

The revelation does little to mitigate her worry, but at least it keeps her from asking foolish questions once she reaches his table. "Hey," she says quietly, looking him over as if trying to find an injury to treat. In contrast to his disheveled appearance, she seems surprisingly put-together. Her hair is clean, as are her clothes, and she has a brightness within her that was lacking last time they met. Her only blemish is the yellowing bruise on the left side of her face, which she pays no mind as she thinks over his morbid, but appropriate question.

"It isn't possible, but I'd like to have my body buried on Leonis." She flashes a brief, wry smile. "With extra coins in my mouth for anyone who needed the fare." More solemnly, she leans in and asks gently, "How are you doing?"

[shardofwinter]

It's as if they traded places, as if as soon as one lost the energy of life it was passed to the other. Seeing Adia so healthy and bright is a relief, especially surrounded by all of this chaos and death. He sighs, audibly and visibly, when he sees her well. Finding people hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped, and he'd hoped that she had run to the safety of her world to hide from all of this, but he couldn't have been sure.

Without hesitation, he steps closer and pulls her into a hug, but he'll keep it brief since he smells about as good as he looks, mostly of stale alcohol. Even when he releases her from his hug, he keeps a hand on her shoulder. "Not a task we have to figure out just yet, thank the Seasons."

He shakes his head at her question. "Sick as a dog, and feeling my age, but life goes on." The fever is hard to forget, but the distractions are a help. "I'm doing better than most of the poor souls here."

[chiron_survivor]

She returns the hug warmly, not caring about his smell, although it gives her a clue as to how he coped with the loss of his season. The same thought occurs to her, that their fortunes are reversed. She hopes he can take as much comfort in her presence as she did from him.

"Yeah, not yet," she agrees, although there is something unsettled in her voice. She can't help but be affected by the tragic loss of life in the Nexus, and how some of her friends nearly died. Or could still die, but she refuses to let herself lose hope for Steve.

Placing a hand over his, she stays close and watches him with sympathetic eyes. There is relief, too, but she tries not to show it. Letting Spring come to the Nexus without a fight this year might ease his reputation with others. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

[shardofwinter]

That Adia is looking and sounding as well as she does is a blessing. War and chaos dogs them both, it seems, but her strength is met with a dull pang of pride. Good on her.

"Don't think any less of me?" There's a moment when his eyes and voice are serious, but in a flash they're replaced with gentle humour. "I promise I'm still as charming as I ever was beneath this beard, but my hands haven't been as steady."

He squeezes her shoulder slightly. "Tell me how you are."

[strontiumdog]

"No funeral. Just want my body burnt where I died."

The answer comes from an approaching figure, shovel slung over one shoulder. One entire side of Johnny's face is bruised and swollen, with his lip split open. He's sore all over and walks with a slight limp, but he's more or less intact.

Not everyone in the Nexus could say the same, and not everyone followed the same funeral traditions considering the vast range of alien life, but there were enough humans who died in the attack that Johnny had picked up a shovel soon after and gotten to work. He drops the shovel point first into the ground and leans on it slightly harder than he normally would, taking a short break to greet a familiar face.

"You're looking a little scruffy there, Reynard."

[shardofwinter]

A scoff of a laugh escapes him and he nods to Johnny with a smile touching the corner of his lips. "And you look like you were thrown off a mountainside."

His eyes are drawn to the shovel. "Are you grave digging?" He scratches and rubs his beard thoughtfully. "I'd been wondering if we should get some bells. Do things the old fashioned way. Just in case people have some... 'three day regeneration' or something like that. Have they ever given the dead bells to ring on your world? Or does everyone get burnt on the spot?"

[strontiumdog]

Johnny smiles in a way that doesn't quite reach his eyes and one hand strays to touch his jaw. "Sure feels like it. Too many people are still in shock, but someone's got to dig the graves. Just as someone's got to move the bodies." He nods respectfully at Reynard's disheveled appearance.

"I've read about things like that, when I was young. That would be way, way back. Wouldn't help a lot of the poor sods here, I don't think." Johnny cocks his head to the side. "And no, it's not everyone's cup of tea. Most prefer spacings. Unless they're on Earth, then it's just regular old burial. Call it a personal preference. I just don't want to leave anything of myself behind for propaganda purposes - or otherwise. No doubt it'll better than whatever will happen to it than if I don't."

[shardofwinter]

Reynard nods in solemn agreement.

"I've seen some impossible things in my time here. A bell and string seem like small things to give if it saves us from burying someone alive." The last thing he'd like to do is find out he'd condemned some creature who could resurrect to a lifetime in a their own grave.

"Ah yes, corpses for propaganda. Not a pretty thing. I can't blame you for wanting to avoid that... Is a 'spacing' where they shoot you off into space? Like a sea burial. Without the fire."

[deadlyviper]

"I do hope that my death was avenged. As for my funeral, I'm sure my lovely wife was mourning me along with my lovely daughters. Then I hope there was plenty of drink and ballads sung of my heroics." Oberyn has come from quite a distance in Nexus land, he's decked out in his light armor and mounted on a golden Dornish sand steed. He was hoping to help with Khan, but alas what can one do when there is a great distance to travel.

He slides his spear into ring on his saddle, and soon dismounts his horse. "As for you my friend, you look like the Lord of Death has been keeping you up. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me as to why you're asking such a depressing question." Oberyn asks with a puzzling look on his face.

"For what I see, despite the recent conflict, the weather here in the Nexus is quite pleasant. And all seems to be well with this quaint world."

[shardofwinter]

"A good funeral." It certainly sounds like one to Reynard. Warfare, women, wine... all the essentials to mark an occasion. What more could a man ask for? Still, the way this stranger says all this is hard to miss. Reynard eyes him up and down, looking for something to confirm his suspicions. "Are you a dead man?"

Reynard considers the man's words, and then looks back to consider the corpses laid out behind him, then turns back to the man again. "It's practical, and respectful. Today I care for the dead. It's not the first time, it won't be the last. Who knows how many people here I might help bury. It seems rude not to ask what they'd like to happen. Or at least I might know what most people want."

[deadlyviper]

The bodies of the dead didn't escape Oberyn's glance, and he looks down to them. "That I am. I died avenging my lovely sister and daughter. As for them?" The tone in his voice is somber, as Oberyn looks at the bodies on the ground. "What will be done to honor those who recently fell?"

Somehow, he figures that having a fine feast to honor those lost would be in poor taste. A massacre is far different than a lone man who was defeated in battle. And war is something the young prince knows well enough.

"If I knew of the people here, I would have recommended something to honor them. Do they have family here?"

[shardofwinter]

In any other situation Reynard might have quipped about the stranger's apparent good health, but it seems poor taste in their current company. He follows the man's gaze and shakes his head. "No one has identified them, or claimed them. These are the forgotten dead."

He heaves a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "They only have strangers to honour them. I'll think of something. A meal, some sombre words, some lively music and manic dancing. It's a sad thing to die forgotten. It would be a tragedy for them to pass without so much as a murmur."

[tielle_mortevus]

Surveying the scene silently from a distance, she mulls the question over in her mind, absentmindedly running her fingers along the handle of her parasol. While not exactly comfortable, the shade from her parasol makes being out in the daylight at least somewhat bearable.
"Most think I'm already dead... so perhaps a small gathering of the close friends and family who know the truth, to spread my ashes through my rose garden... though I doubt I'll need to consider that day for quite some time."
She closes her eyes, bowing her head as she gives a moment of silence for the rows of casualties laying before her. Being quite accustomed to the unsightly result of war and strife through her exceptionally long existence (or at least comparatively to most), she finds herself more intrigued by the story behind the beginnings of the mass grave before her.
"Should you require assistance, come nightfall I would gladly lend my services, my only condition is that someone tell me the story behind this massacre. As unfortunate as it may be, I found myself thrust into this place a little too late."

[shardofwinter]

There's something about this young woman that Reynard can't quite put his finger on. He nods slowly as he tries to figure out what it is. "That sounds like a beautiful funeral."

"It's not a secret." He casts his eye to the bodies behind him. "They're all casualties of vengeance. Collateral damage, I think they call it these days." Reynard turns back to the stranger. "I wouldn't want you to have to do work like this. It's no place for a beautiful young woman to be, down among the dead."

[tielle_mortevus]

She gives him a smile, taking a few steps towards him.
"I can assure you, despite my lovely visage, I am no stranger to death. One might say I have more in common with those poor souls at your feet than I do with you."
She gives him a slight grin, just wide enough to reveal a pair of sharp fangs. Her gaze becomes somber once more as she gazes upon the rows of bodies, she lets out a gentle sigh.
"Casualties of vengeance... one could say my entire existence is the product of such strife. I do hope you are able to at least take some comfort in the senselessness of it all. The woulds cut far deeper when there is logic and order behind such tragedy, a meticulous planning, however sick and twisted it may be..."
She briefly gazes at the palm of her free hand, drifting into thought for a moment.
"...and some stains can never be washed clean, no matter how hard you try..."
Catching herself, she regains her focus, looking back up at the man in front of her.
"Forgive me, prattling on without so much as a proper introduction. Please, call me Tielle."

[shardofwinter]

The revelation of her fangs is received with a subtle tensing of his body. In his life he's been lucky enough to avoid most of the more vicious cursed beings of his world, but he's well aware of exactly how mortal he is in this moment. He straightens his back and folds his hands: Predators get some of his best manners.

He dips his head and touches his hat. Usually he'd bow, but he is quite exhausted. "Reynard North. A pleasure to meet you, miss Tielle."

"Thank you for your kind words, but I'm in no need of comfort. I didn't know these people until I carried them here," he explains. "They're my charges now, and they get their due respect, but the dead don't upset me." A wry smile sneaks onto his face. "They're some of the most pleasant and agreeable company. I know not everyone feels the same, which is why I took this job."

[smartass_captain]

The captain has been impossible to keep down, refusing rest as he helps tend to the aftermath of this disaster. There's a desperation to his actions. A need to be useful and help wherever he can.

People died because of him. Because he wasn't quick enough.

They suffered pretending to be him.

He hasn't slept in days. Seeing Reynard again makes the captain pause in his own duties, leaning the shovel he's been using to help dig graves against the wall he's soon leaning against to catch his breath. Jim looks worn down too.

"Reynard. It's good to see you." Alive, he means. Jim has been worried about all of his friends. "I've already died once. When I go for good, I want some happiness to come from it. A charity, or an event held to help someone else. Makes no difference where I'm buried--wasn't anything left of my dad to bury after all."

[shardofwinter]

The last thing he expected was to find his friends in worse states than himself. It's a pretty difficult thing to do at this time of year, but Jim certainly manages. In hindsight it's not all that surprising, going by the stories circulating the Nexus in all their dozens of forms.

"Jim. Some people think you're dead, you know, and by the looks of things a gentle breeze might knock you into one of those graves." He stirs to fetch a nearby chair and set it down closer to his friend. "Sit. I'd offer you something to drink, but there's nothing on hand." Not anymore anyway.

He lifts an eyebrow at the other man. It's impossible to miss the poignant undertone to Jim's words. "Funerals are supposed to be for remembering the dead, not to ease their guilt, you know."

[smartass_captain]

"I know."

It takes Jim longer than it should to sit down in the offered chair. As though he doesn't think he deserves even that right now. His hands tremble and fidget with nothing to occupy themselves with. He sighs deeply and shakes his head.

"I saw the guy who took the brunt of the attack. The one who launched the end assault. He's not...there's no way he should have been in the line of fire. He's barely bigger than a child." Steven Rogers isn't someone the captain knows personally, but is a familiar face in the Nexus and someone he knows about through people like Amelia, Blaze, and Harrowheart.

"Couldn't hold it down right now." The admission is raw and honest. Jim squeezes his eyes shut and lowers his head while he gathers up his thoughts.

"He got hit pretending to be me, Rey. If I'd have been faster..." If he'd have killed Khan after the attack on the Starfleet headquarters in London....how many lives would that have saved? "It's my fault all of these people died. Khan came from my world."

[westfallcorndog]

Some people are in the business of burying bodies. Some people aren't. Today, someone who isn't is strolling past someone who is. The gravedigger catches Harrowheart's attention, though it's not so much the question the man asks that draws him but the voice in which he asks it.

"Reynard?" Harrowheart asks, pausing in his casual path past the bodies to inspect the man he's looking at. He hardly looks himself, unregal, bearded like a wild man, but there's something unmistakable about the winter spirit, and even looking like this he can't be confused for another.

Harrowheart himself has seen better days. Splashes of the plasma that Khan blasted him with have stripped his flesh to the bone in flecks across his face and neck, and he's still missing an eye, evidently, because he's wearing a new eyepatch. Still, the physical damage he's taken doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"My man," he says, putting a hand on Reynard's shoulder. "It looks like you're the one we're gonna be eulogizin' pretty soon. What's up with you? Dumped by a lover?"

[shardofwinter]

"Harrowheart." Reynard's brow rises high to the sky when the other catches his attention. He'll take a minute to eye the other and take a deep breath, but the other's guess brings a wry grin to the spirit's face. "You could say that."

"You don't look so good either. You must have been in the thick of it. I don't envy you." He peers at the wounds, brow furrowed as he picks out familiar markings that allow him to very vividly imagine how that must have felt. "Will that heal up?"

[westfallcorndog]

"Of course," he says off-handedly. His wounds and the speed at which they'll heal is unimportant to him. Instead he nods to Reynard and, smirking, asks, "Will that shave off?"

But all joking aside, there's something on his mind that he can't help inquire after. His attention drifts toward some of the nearby bodies, unburied and still shrouded, before he brings his eyes back to Reynard. A few seconds' hesitation passes before he forces non-chalantness into his tone and asks, "There bodies you've been workin' with... You seen any of their faces? You think if I described one to you, you might be able to point me to her?"

[chocolatechipbadass]

"That they'd serve crumpets. But after that, I guess I ain't picky. I'd just be happy if anyone showed up, t'be honest."

Tina hasn't been helping much with the bodies. While death and gore don't bother her overly, she can't stand to see those left behind grieving. It cuts too deep to her own hurts. She carefully sets a glass of cold milk and a plate of cookies down next to Reynard.

Chocolate chip, obviously.

"You doing okay, Reynard?" She must be worried, if she's using his actual name instead of a dumb nickname.

[shardofwinter]

It's strange to hear someone as young as Tina talk about her funeral, but somehow not wrong. The smile he gives has a gentleness, despite being wry. "Crumpets, cookies, and a whole lot of fireworks."

The cookies and milk gets wide eyed surprise as he looks from Tina to her gift and back again. He smiles, but it doesn't shift the tiredness from his eyes. "I'm a bit under the weather, my dear. Spring... drains me." He points to the plate. "Are these for me?"

[chocolatechipbadass]

"Yeah, that'd be pretty dope."

Tina flashes a soft smile that lacks some of it's normal zeal as she pulls a chair up so she can sit down next to him. He's definitely looked better and she is very worried for her newest friend.

"Yeah. Chocolate chip cookies do a body good. An' you looked like you needed some Good in you."