RIP Robin
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Post by cawcaw on Jan 17, 2016 16:28:33 GMT -8
We are sorry to inform you that your teammate, Robin Wyght, was on their XXX reap order when they were struck down by a hunter in New York City on January XX 2016. You will be assigned to a new team following the.....
The loss of Robin was first felt by the one that brought them into this world of threads and chrysanthemums. Small and insignificant as they faded away but a loss none the less.
It would be no sooner that the last remaining member of the birdie’s team received the official notice of their passing….and the mailroom suddenly having to make up for the loss of another apprentice that people would start to notice Robin's disappearance from Headquarters.
However, the news wouldn’t end with their teammates and coworkers.
Word of mouth is a powerful tool, news rippling from one apprentice to another. This was not the first apprentice to die, nor the last, but it was one fairly certainly close to those they had come across without realizing it….touching those who dared to distance themselves from others. A friend to all those who didn't believe that they had friends at all.
It wasn’t customary, but a small service was planned out in the chrysanthemum fields that Robin loved to tread in, and those who wished to participate could. For now however, the chrysanthemum fields remained quiet except for the rustling of the flowers that littered the fields….and those who came to join their fellow apprentices in saying goodbye to the one taken from them so soon.
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oops.
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Post by bubblegumkitch on Jan 17, 2016 18:56:30 GMT -8
Still trapped at headquarters, Kit was lurking around in the flower fields, as usual. They'd been tending to the flowers for quite awhile, finding it to be their favorite thing to do when they weren't in the living world. It was a nice escape from everything, after all. Now that things were starting to quiet down a bit, it was up to them to distract themselves from their own thoughts.
After awhile of carrying around a watering can, their arms were starting to hurt and shake pretty badly, so they decided to just sit for awhile. Once they weren't busy doing their job, though, they noticed something... a little peculiar. The flower fields didn't often have a lot of people walking around, especially since the weather was chilly, but it seemed like some apprentices were there now. And, even stranger, they didn't look very happy. At all. They frowned and stayed where they were, a perplexed expression on their face as they stuck their hands in their pockets to approach the little group to see what was going on.
"I just can't believe it... another one of us is gone..." The solemn voice of one of them carried over to Kit, making them look even more confused. "He seemed like such a kind person, too."
So, someone had died? Kit couldn't really bring themselves to care much about it, to be honest. Maxwell and Robin were really the only two who concerned them here, so some random apprentice didn't have them feeling too sad. Maybe it was for the best that some of the apprentices were killed every now and then. It was a cruel existence to endure, after all.
"It's a shame he didn't get to ascend. Poor Robin..."
Before they could dismiss the thought, that name halted their steps in the other direction, and sent the air right out of their lungs. It seemed like everything stopped for a moment. Had they heard that correctly? No... no, it couldn't be. Even so, they couldn't get their legs to keep moving, and instead, they looked back at the slowly increasing number of apprentices coming out to the flower fields. And they heard his name again. It was just slipped into the melancholy conversation, but it was enough to get a clue what had happened. But even after they'd registered that, they couldn't really process it. A friend they'd seen just the other day, apparently dead now? That couldn't possibly be true.
Of course not. Not Robin.
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what is this place
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Post by stuffed-peppers on Jan 17, 2016 20:51:02 GMT -8
[ Tolo reviewed the slip of writing his co-worker had just given him. And he read it again and he sighed. He muttered low to himself as he rehearsed and recited the words for the HQ's PA system.] "Dear friends and comrades, we regret to inform you about the recent passing of our fellow keeper of messengers and messages, Robin Wyght. Robin has been struck down by a Hunter during their reap mission . . . memorial service will be held on . . . While it is not required, all acquaintances are invited to commemorate their fondest memories of Robin Wyght on that day . . ."[Tolo didn't know this Robin fellow. Neither name nor face struck his recognition, unless this was another Robin that had recently gotten killed off in the Batman comics. That sounded like a sick joke. Hell, Tolo wished this was a sick joke. He hated making memorial announcements, even if he hardly knew the person who died. It was a dreary subject, he's pretty sure Marion said that once.] [Obituary. What a weird word. A word too weird to sound sad. Tolo mouthed the strange pronounciation. It sounded kind of cool to say. Oh-bich-oo-wer-y. Heh. The second syllable sounded like 'bitch.'] [Death is kind of a bitch, huh.] [Tolo spun around in his chair a few times, still reading over the rough draft. He stared up and out the window, light rays shining down like a cheerful smile. Distracted before his co-workers would scold him back to work, he hummed out a little song.] "--ath of a bachelor . . . seems so fitting for
"Happily ever after, oooh~ . . .
"How could I ask for more?
"A lifetime of laughter
"At the expense of the death of a bache--" |
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D E D I S C O .
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Post by Ancients on Jan 19, 2016 11:34:07 GMT -8
She left a spot of red in the sea of yellow. - Inkidortes hadn't wanted to start the day like this. Things had been better lately. She had been happy to see people. There were no deaths as of recent. She hadn't needed to go hunting. But now there would be a little hollowness in her for the day. It would fade, as all emotions do, but it was there, barely recognizable. Before the burst of emptiness was washed away by defense mechanisms and her prevalent desensitized mindset, she'd visit. She'd visit in the early morning and sit with the flowers, with Robin, before all the people came. Before they came to watch, to frighten themselves, to false mourn over the death of someone they didn't truly know. And so Inkidortes dressed in the black of mourning, with only her brown skin and white hair to offset it. Off the mantle she nicked an item of red, faded and withering from the amount of time it had lingered there. Had it been really so long? It felt like yesterday. But every day of the past felt like yesterday now and then. Not many mingled in the fields - not yet, at least. The apprentice leader eased through the chrysanthemums, letting her legs take her where her subconscious directed. She was a dark spot against the vibrant hues of gold and yellow petals. A sad spot in the morning light. For a fleeting moment she was simple sadness, surrounded by nothing but the joy and light of colors and flowers. And then the moment was passed, and she sat down in a remote spot, chosen for no particular reason other than her legs had taken her there. She stayed there for an hour, eyes shut, back straight, cradling the red item in her lap. Soon the sun warmed her face, and it was time to go. With a deep sigh she stood, murmured a Latin phrase of passing, and left the red behind. "Non omnes consumentu."* She walked out of the fields, past the whispering apprentices, with a straight back and thoughts focused on paperwork and the living. She left behind a crown of red petals, faded but still strong in memories and smell; the only tangible item Robin had blessed her with. "...Mors vincit omnia."** -------------------------------------------
*"non omnes consumentur"
-not all of you shall die
-expresses the belief/truth that a part of the one cut down will survive beyond death
**"Mors vincit omnia"
-death conquers all
-death always wins
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Let's get Francy! ^ v ^
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Post by WarFran on Jan 21, 2016 22:28:53 GMT -8
He had noticed the shadow cast by a huge, burly figure entering his office a few hours after the message had been sent out, followed by the considerately soft closing of the door behind him, and the sound of footsteps across the room. Had he really been sitting there all this while? Just...sitting...and thinking? He let out a sigh, but didn’t turn to face the redheaded Viking who had entered, and taken his usual seat at a cosy armchair in the Apprentice Leader’s office.
A peaceful silence hung in the air between the two old friends, which was finally broken by the larger, and older man, “Read the message. Sorry to hear it."
Fran just smiles sadly and shakes his head quietly, his silver locks draping ethereally over his shoulders as he does so. Another short silence hangs between them and this time, Fran breaks it.
"That child...used to call me 'FranFran'. "
Joakim just nods in response to this, "...You going to the memorial?"
Fran takes longer than expected to answer, but before he could, Joa cuts in,
"I'll go with you if you want."
It took the two men some time to delicately lift the sick Death into a wheelchair, with Joakim being surprisingly gentle for someone with his burly frame and rough hands, and Fran adjusting a crown of flowers into her hair, wanting her to look her very best at this public appearance, at least. He smiled at her in adoration as he weaved the chrysanthemums into her hair, though there was a look of worry in those crimson eyes of his -- his goddess was looking paler and frailer by the day with hardly any signs of making a recovery. Yet, she had been keen to go for the memorial.
He would grant this wish of hers as best as he could.
There weren’t too many people at the memorial when the trio had reached the fields. Most of them had dropped by briefly and left afterward -- not having a coffin to store the body was something quite unreal and strange to many, especially the newer Apprentices. It was understandable that not many wished to linger in those very fields that reminded them that a second death could happen to any of them at any moment...
It was not the first memorial that Fran had been to.
It hurt more to think that it most certainly wouldn't be the last.
Fran wheeled the sickly Death to a sunny spot that made her look like she was glowing, patting her head gently as he walked forward to take a spot before the area that most people had left their tokens of appreciation for the departed Birdkeeper. He was donned in a dark long coat, though a trademark white scarf hung around his neck. It was probably the only time the Apprentice Leader could be seen wearing so much not-white. The white scarf was also out of consideration for his dear Death, clad in a usual white dress -- he didn’t want her to feel left out in her whiteness.
Reaching into the pocket of his dark coat, Fran pulled out the white-and-gold friendship bracelet that Robin had made for him some time back, as a token of their...frand-ship. For a long time, he was silent, just smiling blankly down at the small bracelet in his hands. It looked as if he was contemplating placing it where the rest of the memorial trinkets lay (there was already a small pile there, including a very familiar crown of flowers), but was hesitating in doing so, evident by how hard he was gripping the tiny accessory, to the point that the whites of his knuckles were showing.
"I… I can't give this back to you, Birdie,” His voice was soft, gentle, far away. A melancholic nocturne. “I'm selfish that way. I'm sorry… I've always been…selfish…"
Long lashes flitted shut, as he bowed his head before the memorial. It was silly to regret. It was silly to be troubled by how he couldn't even place the Birdie's weapon at this makeshift grave, because it had gone missing. It was silly to feel so...so sorry over something that he could have possibly prevented.
“...I’m...sorry.”
The words came as a soft whisper, as if he was speaking to the winds, to something that lay beyond those fields. "Sorry" seemed so dumb, so insincere, so insignificant at this point in time. Yet, it was all this leader had to offer at the moment.
"I will always...always remember you."
With these parting words, Fran brought the bracelet to his thin, pale lips, brushing it tenderly against his icy cold skin as he whispered a slow, silent "goodbye".
(( big thanks to Minty and Tengu for helping me out with this ; v ; rip robin-chan <333 OTL ))
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remember me as i was.
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Post by quinnquinn on Jan 21, 2016 23:51:04 GMT -8
"Were the two of you friends?" asked the lady at reception, handing Owen more papers. Ones outlining times and dates, and records of birds. Some were reports he was familiar with, some others new cases. "I think we were friends..." He hugged the files in one arm, and held the other hand in front of his mouth in contemplation. "I don't know if he thought we were friends..." And now I never will, Owen thought, though he knew basic human conventions enough now to know what the answer was. -- What? --
"You'll be getting your new timetables in the next week or so." the lady continued. "Everyone in your shift lot is getting a split of what's been left behind..."
"..."
"Um, Mr. Quinn, are you listening..?"
-- Of course we are! --
He'd set himself at least three alarms that day to remind him to go to the fields. He tended to forget things like that. Others had gathered here too, though somehow not enraptured by the scent of chrysanthemums filling the air. Owen found himself dancing towards the little corner of the field, spinning absentmindedly until he reached there. In his hands was a pouch of some sort. Sitting on his shoulder was a little sparrow, and a couple of other smaller birds clung to his arm.
As he stopped, he looked in awe at Death sitting in her wheelchair, almost enamoured by her - but no, that wasn't the point of today.
A small pile of memorial items had already been gathered here. Without much care for the apparent "personal space" for the things, Owen walked up to it, and emptied the pouch over the top of it all. Falling out of it was a variety of feathers, some colourful, some dull, some small, some large. It was noticeable that his hands were even more covered in his signature psychedelic plasters than they usually were, yet it could not cover all the scratches and wounds on them. Some even extended up his arm.
"I couldn't get all of them to come." he said. "I tried."
If one had bothered to count, exactly X feathers dropped out. The total was a combination of part of the number of files he looked after, and the new ones had been issued to him earlier.
"We tried to be friends..." he shrugged, sounding more solemn. "I think... I think we became friends..?" Owen frowned.
"Friends don't leave..." He shook his head, frowning all the while. His hand had balled up into a fist, and it seemed to be tightening with every passing second. His brows furrowed in confusion, sadness, anger. He turned his head towards the birds perching on him, looking at them lovingly as they chirped all the way.
"Friends... don't leave..."
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