Nerezza is gone
after a long time of playing her. Ten months of great RP. However, her arc had reached a standstill, and it was time for Nerezza to go.
https://forums.massivecraft.com/thr...-in-mourning-of-nerezannai.79656/#post-937365
https://forums.massivecraft.com/thr...-in-mourning-of-nerezannai.79656/#post-937365
The day began as any other. The morning was soft and cool, a silken warmth draped over the city. It was a beautiful day, the kind the woman would have insisted to go and write outside in, spending time with those she loved and basking in the weather. Today, it did not warm those who she cared for, and cared for her in return. The warm air did not melt the ice in their hearts.
A place was soon chosen for her funeral; far from where she died, a beautiful place, flowers and a river beside it. They could mourn, even without a body.
They took her there as the day fell, cool air settling. The effigy was wrapped in a soft, clean white dress, flowers and beauty woven into her golden hair. The doll appeared as if she was asleep, at peace.
Setting her effigy on the pyre, all but one made their peace, whispering words over the lifeless form that once had held so much life and exuberance, so much love, yet so much pain and agony, too. Some were glad that she died; a dead woman doesn't feel the raw agony of the past.
One did not make his peace. He could not make his peace, even when he curled his tanned arms around her and wet her hair with his tears. A broken man, further shattered by the loss of her, a woman who cared not of what his body and his hands had done, simply loving him for his heart. Even if the gods never forgave him, the golden haired woman had.
They lit the pyre when the Broken Man had cried all the tears he held within him. Some of them blamed the acrid smoke of burning flesh for their wet, red eyes. Others did not cry, but steeled themselves, strong for the others with them. They had seen her death, but they had seen her life, too.
She was ash and dust by morning. The Broken Man gently took half her effigy's ashes, so he could at least keep that. The rest, left to wash into the earth and nourish it. A few seeds were scattered around; lavender, her personal favorite. Then they returned.
The rain began that morning. It rained hard throughout the day, dark and gloomy. It was the kind of weather she would have insisted to go and dance in, her golden hair dark and wet, clinging to her grinning face. She was born with a name she hated, and she died with no true name at all.
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