Chiron & Fiore; catch-all

[cheir]

Comments

[cheir]

Yes, of course. I'll be able to manage.

[ Or something close enough to it. ]

[horsepowered]

I want to be sure.

[They're past the copse now, and Chiron's pace is nothing more than a gentle trot. He is not sure what he ought to be looking for now, but this is about the right spot, isn't it?

He doesn't turn back to Fiore, but he nudges her gently with a hand upon her foot.]</small Do I go left or right?

[cheir]

Left.

[ Her foot twitches slightly, but that's all she can do for the moment. ]

It's a shaded area. The trees are thicker, but there's a clearing in the middle.

[horsepowered]

[Shaded area. Chiron nods, and as he bears left, it becomes obvious where he must go. The shade isn't the giveaway though, it's the trees. They are indeed denser than the rest of the area, and he approaches with a slower, more reverent pace than anything he's shown before. His dead may not be here, but there is clearly someone dear to Fiore present, and that is reason alone to tread lightly.

Chiron continues through the trees, stepping ever-so-carefully. He ducks a few times to avoid branches, and then, then they're there in the clearing.

He's looking for a headstone. A marker. Something.]

[cheir]

[ There's no headstone. No marker. Really, there's no sign that anything was ever left here, but Fiore casts her gaze around the clearing before she rests a hand on Chiron's side and pats softly. ]

Just to the right of that tree. Where the moss is.

[ Her tone is very soft, almost sorrowful. ]

[horsepowered]

[He goes where Fiore has instructed, now treading as lightly as he can on all fours. Chiron's aware that there is a backstory here that he is ignorant of, and when he reaches the moss, he comes to a stop completely.

This place is quiet. More than anything else, it is the silence that stands out to him most. There's a natural desire to be quiet here, it seems.]

[cheir]

[ It's not a story that she thinks would be very important-- but it still settles heavily within her.

Fiore doesn't mention it, though, gathering the backpack closer. ]

Chiron-- I'll be getting down now.

[ It's true, every single movement seems more hushed than usual. ]

[horsepowered]

Very well.

[Chiron kneels down carefully. Front legs go down first, then the back. Easier for Fiore to swing one leg around him, then slide off carefully onto the grass. He's careful not to move. He's the steadiest he's ever been.]

[cheir]

[ He's as attentive as ever, and it brings a soft smile to her face as she painstakingly slips one leg over to join the other and eases herself down onto the grass. She's shaky, but able to take a few cautious steps off to the side to give him room, and slips off the backpack to begin pulling out the offerings. ]

[horsepowered]

[Chiron gets back onto his feet very carefully. He doesn't know why he's bothering, when there is a part of all of this that will require kneeling in just a few minutes, but it feels right. It'll allow him to move and catch Fiore if her legs decide to not cooperate.]

The wine first, please?

[cheir]

Of course-- just a moment.

[ She shifts back slightly and opens up the backpack to pull the bottle free, offering it to him quietly. ]

[horsepowered]

Thank you.

[Chiron takes it, but doesn't open the wine bottle. Not at first. Instead he murmurs to himself, all in ancient Greek. It's an archaic form of the language, far older than what even academics learn so that they can read the greater writers and playwrights in their original language. One hand comes to rest on the earth itself, and it lingers in the grass for a few moments.

Then and only then does Chiron open the wine bottle. The cork struggles, but eventually relents. It's poured over the ground, the scent of alcohol running in a river down the grass and into the earth itself. Chiron keeps murmuring, and then when the bottle is half emptied, he places it aside.]

[cheir]

[ Fiore watches attentively, torn between doing her best to even attempt to understand the words he mutters and simply letting the words exist with the faint understanding that... well, she doesn't need to understand.

It's a ritual, a tradition. And so she stays silent. ]

[horsepowered]

[When the wine is poured into the ground, the rivers of it absorbed into the ground, Chiron takes a single sip himself, and then puts the bottle aside. There are a few more words said, then silence reigns.

That's the end, so far as there can be an end to such deep respect for the dead. The ritual is concluded with a soft pat of the ground, and Chiron looking up over to Fiore to show that he's done. His face is far longer, grimmer, sadder than before, but threaded through out is a small look of relief that he was able to do even this much.]

[cheir]

[ Not for the first time does Fiore think that Heroic Spirits must be terribly lonely. There may be those who are fortunate enough to once again cross paths with those they'd known and loved in life, and she's glad he at least got to see his student again, but...

More often than not, their families are beyond their reach, and seeing the sorrow in Chiron's face is a firm, heartbreaking reminder of it.

She doesn't say anything quite yet, lowering herself and her aching legs into a kneel on the ground, though she's careful to avoid where the wine was poured. And, silently, she bows her head to the site in clear respect.

Not just for the life that she'd apologized to, over and over again, but to Chiron's family, people she had only seen in her dreams. ]

[horsepowered]

[Chiron doesn't even dare look in Fiore's direction. This is her own ritual, and so that demands the deepest respect. He cannot, should not, and never will interrupt a devotion so deeply personal.

There's clouds that pass overhead, sped along by a sudden uptick in the wind. That catches Chiron's attention, and he smiles very thinly as the leaves of the trees waver in the wind. That's an omen. That's an acceptance of an offering.]

[cheir]

[ As the wind ruffles her bangs, Fiore finally lifts her head. There's a soft sort of darkness in her eyes, but as she glances up, she smiles at her former Servant. ]

Thank you.

[horsepowered]

Of course.

[Chiron offers out his hand to Fiore. It isn't for physical support this time, but emotional. These moments are always tender things, often hard to bear regardless of being alone or having another person there.]

Do you wish to linger?

[cheir]

[ Fiore takes it, after a few seconds. Her fingers are trembling faintly, but she takes a slower breath to ease that much. ]

... I'm not sure. It's so peaceful here, but at the same time, there's nothing more I can say.

[horsepowered]

Mmm. The dead have a tendency to inspire such feelings and contradictions.

[Chiron's voice is barely a whisper. His eyes are focused on where the wine has gone into the ground, and he brushes a single finger over the space with a sigh.]

They're always complicated.

[cheir]

Indeed they are.

[ He's, once again, worded it perfectly. ]

I imagine it's the least we can do for them, at least.

[horsepowered]

Mm. It was considered a terrible thing to not give your dead their rites. But you probably know those stories already, don't you? [Chiron knows that even if mages didn't study in preparation for summoning a Heroic Spirit, the stories of the Greeks have penetrated deep into the culture.]

Do mages have their own theories on any sort of afterlife?

[cheir]

[ He's right; Fiore had known, and she'd made a point to read up more on Greek lore and culture after Chiron had been summoned. She'd wanted to understand the world he'd come from, not just his own story. ]

It's not mentioned much. To a magus, death is really only accepted if they know their family will continue on, to achieve the greatness and glory that they themselves couldn't. But there's nothing like Elysium for us.

[horsepowered]

That's...[Really depressing. Chiron doesn't say that though, but finding the right words is more of a challenge than it ought to be.]

That flies in the face of most cultures, as I understand it.

[But that makes sense, in it's way. Magi are disconnected from the world around them in ever so many ways. What differences does one more make, in the end? It doesn't. Not really.]

It also doesn't feel right.

[cheir]

No... it doesn't.

I always thought so as well, that as much as I loved magecraft, that way of thinking was too pragmatic. I suppose that's why both you and my brother both realized that I was ill-suited for that life.