[Ashtaroth/Rayu] - Respect

[justabard]

Who: Ashtaroth and Rayu
When: Saturday, April 9
Where: Bastan cemetery
Before/After: n/a
Warnings: Slight baww

In which Rayu finds someone tending to the graves of his parents.



Keeping the graveyard clean was of great importance to the Order. It was a sign of respect to those buried there, that they were not forgotten, that they would not be buried by the tall grass or the falling leaves. In winter snow was brushed. In spring, flowers were placed on each grave. They were cleaned once a year in summer, and any monuments on the verge of crumbling or breaking were repaired or replaced, all with the same gentleness as the living who had brought these people here were given. It was an all-consuming job, but one Ashtaroth took to with a deep sense of duty, particularly when she had come upon her own mother's tombstone, a simple affair due to the nearly non-existant funds Ashtaroth herself had come to Bastan with eight years ago when she had brought her mother's body with her from Safta.

But her mother was not the only person here, and she came upon one of the many pairs set together, a married couple that she had never known. One of the clerics had come every now and then to visit, but she had not seem him lately. He was the brother of the paladin that had turned on everyone some years ago... a sad story, and sadder still that people thought it appropriate to deface the tombstones that marked their resting place. "I'm sorry that they're like this," Ashtaroth said, scrubbing clean the man's, crouched in front of it with her black sleeves pulled up, noticing new chips on its contours. Would they have to replace it? She sighed as she finished up and pulled the pail of water up and moved on to the next row, her mood sullen. What a terrible thing to do to people who had no control over the things that happened in the living world!

In the early morning where Rayu usually took time to hunt, he stole away to Bastan instead. It was a risky move, but he wanted to collect what of Zachary's belongings he could. Between the siege, the Spenta's return, Vepha's idea of a prank, and the massive hole that replaced a section of Bastan, the tension and confusion left an opening for Rayu's return. He was able to sneak into Zachary's old dorm for a few items-- he couldn't take everything, they'd notice-- and those who met him on the street showed no recognition. Good. That was good. Victor was gone again, and Rayu returned.

Well, most of Victor.

He made one last stop before heading for the gate, surprised to find someone had gotten here before him. Rayu watched in silence, stunned by both the vandalism and the clerics dedicated efforts to clean the graves where his parents slept. It was another moment after she spoke that he realized she wasn't talking to him, but to them.

His feet found his way up behind her to look over the graves, forgetting the flowers he'd brought with him, still held at his side. He couldn't thank her directly the way Victor would have, nor offer to help. "'S a shame, targetin' the dead. Bristols, eh...? Bet you've got your work cut out for you with this one."


She started, having been so absorbed in her task she hadn't heard anyone walk up. Wide-eyed, it seemed to take her a moment longer to recover than was normal. "A-ah," she stammered, then looked back to the graves. "Yes..."


She looked at them a moment longer, her expression sad, before a spark of anger showed through. "It's terrible. They just want someplace to direct their anger. They think it isn't just- well, neither is this! It's petty and childish- they're dead, aren't they? It won't bring anyone back."

With that vexed look still on her face, she started to clean the next tombstone with renewed vigour.


"No. It won't," he agreed, voice soft. He was quick to put a hard edge on it, bringing the flowers to rest on his shoulder. He would have to pretend they were for someone else until she finished her work here.

"If you ask me, they ought to be usin' that energy to hunt that traitor down themselves." He mock sighed and gave an all too large shrug, shaking his head. "'Course, the dead don't suffer, either. The only one they're troublin' here is you, from the looks of it."


"I heard they recaptured him, but he escaped..." Her voice trailed, thoughtful, reflexively stopping her work so she sat on her knees, hands in her lap. She sighed. "I don't know. That's another matter entirely. I just wish they would leave this place alone."


She stayed quiet a moment longer, contemplating, before she started again, guilty. "O-oh! I'm sorry. You didn't need to hear that. I didn't- I'm not complaining, really. I don't mind doing this at all." And for all the quickness with which she said it, she didn't seem to be lying. "I'm sorry. You're here to pay your respects- I shouldn't bother you."


"Is that so?" he said, sounding suitably surprised. He let out a quiet whistle. "So close then, and yet so far. Ah, maybe they'll get 'im next time. Save you some trouble." Rayu allowed himself a wicked grin. "... Unless they put you in charge of tendin' his grave, too. Wouldn't envy that."

He relaxed, watching her return to her work. "Don't worry about that. 'S better, sometimes, not to be in a place like this all by yourself. Gets you thinkin' about all the things you couldn't do." For as guarded as he felt he needed to be, that much was true.



"Don't make fun of this!" she snapped suddenly, her anger like a whip, driving away the sullen expression on her face. "What he did was terrible- it's true- but I wouldn't wish anyone dead! Even someone like that- even someone like that must have people who would grieve for him!"

She took a deep breath, her face flushed. She looked away again, her hands in her lap, bunching up her black robes. She didn't apologize this time, however, though she could hear Master Eckhart's voice in her mind telling her about humility, about compassion, to keep calm. When she felt she could speak calmly again she said, "you can never do everything. Harbouring regret is as useless as anger, if nothing changes and no one learns anything. But it's not that easy. If people could come here and be happy- but it's not like that for most people."

Rayu was taking aback, shifting back a step in his surprise as if her anger had physically pushed him. Part of it was her sudden change in disposition. The other part was that she was scolding him in a way she couldn't know. And she was right. It was a few moments before he relaxed his posture, arms dropping at his sides. "Sorry," he said, voice barely audible and eyes on the ground.

He did not look up until she started speaking again, and struggled to regain that roughness he associated with his Rayu-self. "You sayin' you're able to come here and be happy?"



At first she said nothing to the apology, but then she broke down what must have been a resolve to stand her ground, only to realize she'd had no right to do that herself. "No... it's all right. I had no right to say that to you." With the anger faded, the sullen look came back. Typical teenager. "N-not like that, anyway." Not quite an apology, but as close as she'd come, given the subject. It looked like she'd struck a chord- she didn't need to dig any further.

"...no," she admitted, taking up the rag again and leaning forward to wipe off the tombstone in front of her. "But other people should be. Not... all the time. I spoke too soon. When people come here to speak with their loved ones, I feel like... they should be able to speak to them of things that are happening... of life going on. Not be stuck in the past. That's a little like being dead, too, isn't it?"


Rayu was content to let the subject drop, only giving a grunt of acknowledgment with her almost-apology. It wasn't necessary, but he didn't need-- or want-- to get into why. The less they had to talk about it, the less likely he would stumble.

He couldn't help smiling a little as she spoke. "Yeah? Guess that's not a bad way to be thinkin' about this kinda thing. 'Spose that's what the dead would wanna hear, anyway. Wouldn't want someone standin' over my grave feelin' terrible. I'd rather hear about how they're doin'."


Surprisingly she smiled back, her self-consciousness forgotten for the moment. "Yes, that's what I think. Even if it isn't nice... it can't always be, after all." She settled back on her knees, hands in her lap with the wet cloth, before she reached forward and stroked the tombstone with a caring familiarity, a pride in what she did and in doing it well. And doing it day after day, if she had to.

"And for those that get no visitors at all... I don't want them to be lonely." She looked sheepish as she said it. "Or... maybe I just didn't want to be lonely. That doesn't seem fair, does it? Having to listen to me talk to them."


He softened as he watched her care for the tombstones, but was quick to force himself to look more apathetic about it when she glanced back at him. There were certainly no feelings of affection for these particular stones. Not at all. He was just passing through on the way to his dead girlfriend or something. It's what he had to tell himself until she was gone.

"Nah," he said, looking away and using his hat to help obscure the look on his face. "If it were me, I'd like someone to come stoppin' by now and then, tellin' me about the world of the livin'. And hey, if I could keep someone from gettin' lonely even in death... 's not the worst I could do."



She stared at him a moment, and then smiled again, though she looked back down, pleased with that answer, but touched as well. She blinked fiercely, embarrassed that she should be crying over something like that- in front of a stranger, about her own work.

"Thank you," she said simply, not knowing what else to say. She began to collect her things, the pail and the cloth, careful to get her robes out of the way of her feet as she stood.

"I'll get out of your way," she said, the smile still there in her words. "Please, stay as long as you like."


The smile surprised him, and her tears more so. He pretended not to notice, not to look, and waved his hand as she readied herself to leave. "Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself."

Before she could leave, he looked toward her again. "Rayu. My name. Didn't catch yours."



She turned again, surprised that he should ask. Looking embarrassed, not quite looking at his face, she answered, "Ashtaroth. I'm in training with the Order... s-so if I said anything out of place, forgive my inexperience." Ah, hopefully he wouldn't complain for her impertinence. Eckhart would give her that disappointed look again for being so transparent...

"...take care, Rayu," she countered, giving him the sort of shy, awkward wave of someone unused to doing such things, before turning back around to enter the temple again, pausing to give one particular headstone a lingering pat before she disappeared inside.


"Ashtaroth," he repeated. "Well met." He nodded to her in place of waving and waited until she had disappeared before allowing his gaze to fall back to the graves of his parents.

She had done well. The desecration was barely noticeable now, and Rayu ran his hand over the edge as something hard formed in his throat. Because of him. He knelt down and placed the flowers there between them both. For a moment, there was a wry kind of smile, something he hoped would keep his face from shifting, but it faded away. Rayu parted his lips, but all that came out was a hesitant breath.

Things that are happening... of life going on. They would have to be satisfied with Ashtaroth's visits and whatever stories of life she told them. Slapping his legs, he forced himself up, and turned to leave the cemetery, and Bastan, behind.