RP:Dearly Departed
Summary: Brennia attends Nelda Coin's funeral with her son Niall and then she offers him a way to remember those he lost.
Coin Family Home
Niall || The Coin family farm had served the family for as long as anyone could remember. While it hosted several of their homes, barns, tanneries, and workshops there was also a well tended grave site tucked behind a cluster of ancient live oak trees. There was a short, moss covered stone wall that wrapped around the headstones and stone statues. All were lovingly tended, though most near the wildest edge of the small forest were so worn by time and the elements that the engravings had long washed away. Roses rioted near the edges of the family cemetery, and there were stone benches tucked under short dogwood trees that bloomed with fragrant white flowers this time of the year in Kelay. What was left of the Coin family, which was still a large amount of family all things considered, had gathered around now underneath an open white topped tent. There was a simple pine box near freshly dug earth. The place Niall’s father had been laid to rest only months before was still only hard packed dirt, no grass had yet grown over it. A Cleric from the Devout’s Guild stood in front of the short rows of seating and spoke words of comfort and prayer. He spoke of the embrace of the gods and Niall, who sat near Brennia, felt a bitterness sting the back of his throat. It was the same bitterness that he felt when he looked at the brightness of the sun as it dappled through the oak trees, cheery and warm. And when the birds sang, and the river continued to flow, and the world turned. But his had stopped. His hands clenched tightly in his lap as the Cleric continued, offering prayers he knew the gods would not hear.
Brennia is dressed respectfully in an all black wrap type dress that actually shows the way her body has slimmed over the years due to her declining health, but she has been working on her confidence lately and she thinks Mama Coin would adore a nice dress on her no matter her size. Her ballet flats are a simple black to match the dress and Brennia considered a hat maybe with a veil, but it was just too much. Her hair is curled and pinned off to one side while she also decided to leave her face natural today because tears are expected… many of them. The arch of her dark wings are adorned with a white silk scarf as that is a small tradition of mourning from her home land. Brennia has been dutiful by Niall's side and has let him lead the way today because she has no idea what funerals are like for his kind. Back home, their customs are vastly different and she wants to be as respectful as possible. Whenever Niall is pulled away for funeral duties, she falls in line comfortably with his sisters as she pretends to not notice the lingering looks of hope they've been giving Niall and Bre whenever they happen to be near each other. Now she sits next to Niall as she tries to listen to the cleric's words, but she feels just as hopeless while periodically dabbing her kerchief on her eyes. Those solid teal hues look to the man's face at her side and then down to his hands clenched as she acts on instinct. Niall will feel her slender fingers trace over the back of one of his hand before her palm gently rests upon it to show she is still here for him.
Niall had pulled his unruly, boyishly long hair back from his face and even managed to trim up his beard. He looked less like a wild man and more like a semi-tamed one in his black suit. It was sweltering in the Kelay heat and the humid wind did little to help. His eyes had been dry, even as he carried the pine box that held his mothers remains down from the main house with his brothers. They were dry now as the cleric spoke and the soft cries of his family surrounded him. Bre’s presence was a grounding one to him. If the man noticed the looks his family gave them today, he either didn’t notice or refused to care. He stuck close by her, only standing far away for as long as he could bear it when his duty as his mother’s son demanded it. When her hand touches his now, the rage that had welled inside of him eases. It was like a cool hand on a fevered brow. His own open and he takes the hand offered, giving it a gentle squeeze. She might have felt it tremble as the box was lowered into the ground. His youngest sister stepped forward, carrying a basket of white lilies, and one by one the Coin siblings went up and offered them to the earth. A final offering to the mother that had served their family selflessly for many years. When this was finished, the Cleric said a final prayer. Niall had rejoined Brennia. “The family would like to thank all of those in attendance and now invites you all to gather in the main house to celebrate the life of Nelda Coin. There will be refreshments.” Niall knew that what happened next would be as painful as the bird’s song. As people began to file away, he held back with Brennia. His voice was as rough as the palms of his hands when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if I could have sat through that without you,” He starts, running his hand through his hair in the way he was want to do when he was nervous. “My ma…” He paused, his golden brow knitting together as he struggled with the words. “She would just be over the moon that you’re here. She would have loved it. Thank you for that.”
Brennia offers a little squeeze back as her tears still slip down her face even more to see him like this. She watches as people head back to the house, but he doesn't seem ready to face all of them yet, so she patiently hangs back with Niall. The avian offers him a sad smile, "I am happy to do it and I am honored to be here to see her off into the great beyond. There is just one more thing if you'll humor me," she has a surprise for Niall that is just for the two of them and she loops her hand along the inside of his elbow while instructing him to, "please, would you help me back to the house? You don't have to go in," she has him wait on the porch, out of sight from everyone else while she gets something from inside that she hid here earlier. When she comes back out, she is holding a simple box secured with a big white ribbon and she bothers him for another favor and her hand takes it's palace in the crook of his arm again, "would you take me to your favorite tree, Niall?" Once they arrive, she hands Niall the gift box that holds a bird feeder inside filled with seeds and corn. When he pulls it free of the box to inspect it, he can read a silver plaque on the front which states, 'We shall find you in the gray summer garden amid the rain-wet roses; stir of wings; & the morning sun behind you.' The avian couldn't have crafted this herself as she commissioned someone to make it and asked Alvina to help engrave the inscription, but the words are her idea and it had been thoughtfully painted by Brennia in shades that speak to his family's memory. "In my homeland, we hang these because we believe that our loved ones still visit us in the small forms of birds… especially the colorful ones. This is meant for Mama Coin, Papa Coin and Cain Coin," she dabs some more tears that spill down her cheeks before shifting her gaze from him to the branches above, "point out a nice sturdy branch and I will hang it for you."
Niall nodded, “Anything for you.” He answers seriously, a look he didn’t often wear. It seemed out of place on his sun browned face. No laugh lines crinkling like crow’s feet near his storm grey eyes. No curve on his scarred lips. Still he took her arm delicately and led her back toward his family home. He wasn’t ready to enter it just yet either, something he knew she’d picked up on and was showing him miles of grace for. It tugged at that yawning, empty place in his heart. They stopped at the porch. The Coin home’s doors were open wide. He knew there were fresh white lilies cut and arranged throughout in crystal vases. Knew that there would be food on every surface of the large dining room and ample kitchen. Beer, tea, and harder drinks would be served by family friends. Music that was lively and twanged from several stringed instruments carried through the open windows from the sprawling back porch where people would gather to dance. There would be candles lit in the living room and in the empty hearth in place of a fire. Portraits of his mother and father would be on display, arranged as if the small moments could paint a picture of lives filled with love and laughter. He wasn’t ready for any of it. When Brennia speaks again he blinks back into the moment with her, surprised to see her holding something. He simply nods when he takes her arm again. He leads her beyond the grave yard, deeper into the comfort of the tall oak trees. “I used to go here for quiet,” He tells her as they walk. “You know, there wasn’t much of that in the Coin house.” He laughs, but it felt wrong and so the sound dies quickly in his throat. “If I was mad, or upset about anything and just needed space. Ma always knew where to find me though.” They stop underneath a wide tree, the lone yew in a sea of oak. When he opens the box, the tears that had refused to come slip down his weathered cheeks now. It takes him a moment to collect himself, but when he does he pulls Brennia into a tight hug. And he holds on. As the grief moves through him, threatening to drown him, he holds onto her. Finally, he pulls away. “I don’t know how to tell you how much this means to me,” He tells her, his voice thick.
Brennia cannot help the bubble of that raspy giggle come from her when he jokes about his boisterous family. "I," she is about to say she is certain he will have a filled home just like that someday, but the thought gets stifled when she sees him restrain himself. Brennia starts to gently dab his tears away and then accepts the hug with tears in her eyes that fall when they connect, but she is careful not to use her wings even though they flinch ever so slightly to wrap around him like usual. It is a bad omen to let the sash fall and get dirty, so she is a little superstitious about that. When he finally lets her go, she smiles softly up at him as she slides some twine through the top of the wooden bird feeder's holes for this very thing while Niall holds it steady, "I'll hang it high enough for the birds, but low enough where you can still read the inscription, Niall. Now, while the feeder is being hung, we usually say a small affirmation to honor their memory. My favorite is, 'Those we love don't go away. They walk beside us everyday.' You can say whatever your heart is feeling, though, or silently if you like," her voice is slightly raspier than usual, but soft and full of emotion. Definitely a stark contrast between how he is used to interacting with Raven. Then she slips the silky white sash from her wings and drapes it around his shoulders for safekeeping before taking the feeder from him as she flutters her wings just enough to secure the twine to the branch while saying, "Those we love don't go away. They walk beside us everyday." She gently floats back to the ground and gets into place by Niall's side to quietly take stock of this moment.
Niall nods, not trusting himself to speak as she places the sash around him. He touches it gently, thoughtlessly as he watches her move. It had always felt to him as if he were staring into the sun when he looked at her. So bright, so beautiful. There had been a time when he was sure his world had revolved around her, hadn’t there? He felt endlessly grateful that she was here with him now, even as he marveled at the way she moved her wings, the way she carried herself. “Those we love don't go away. They walk beside us everyday." He said with her, nearly in unison as she returned to the ground with him. The man hesitated, then he added, “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Ma. But I’ll see you again. Until then, I’ll make you proud.” He thought watching her was like watching the first leaves glide down in the fall. Profound, graceful. His hand ran through his hair again as he looked toward Brennia. “You’re a saint for this. A better friend than I deserve, too.” He takes the sash off carefully, offering it out to her again. “I don’t know what I would do without you either.”
Brennia lifts her gaze up at the farm raised man next to her. For a moment she considers the same things. How he came out of nowhere and is not the usual partner she ever thought she would consider, or even Raven would consider because she likes the evil types, but no one has ever looked at her the way he does. Instead of wondering where they would be now if he had not left, she wonders about the different course his life would have taken if they had never met. Maybe the fate of his family wouldn't be different, but there could have been a couple of littles running around with the other kids while everyone is sharing stories of Mama Coin. He would have a sweet and beautiful wife that he met on one of his many trips. In a way, she feels responsible for the great possible things that are not. Mindlessly, she accepts the sash back and their fingers brush past the other before she slips the sash back over the arch of her wings as it gracefully drapes there. "I don't know about that, but I do hope you'll be able to come here and remember all of the profound things they stood for. It takes a lot to accept a royal spoiled brat into their family and make her feel like she is home," there is humor in her smile and a twinkle in her eye, but that little grin is wiped from her face as she looks up at him after his last comment. The air feels so still and she swallows hard because she still thinks he would be much better off never knowing her, "you don't?" She knows she should maybe place a step between them respectfully and look away, but she just can't.
Niall smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in several weeks when Brennia grins at him. “You’re family now,” He laughs a little, and because it feels right he doesn’t stop himself this time, and scratches at the side of his face. “I reckon whether you like it too much or not now. They love you, Ra- Bre.” He caught himself and moved on from the awkward moment in his easy way. “You have a home here too, family here too, whenever you need it.” He didn’t know how parallel his thoughts would run from hers, but he also wonders how differently his life might have gone if he’d never known her. Raven, Brennia. He never considered himself a man who delt in absolutes, but he was absolutely certain his life would have been worse. Maybe he would have settled down with the sweet, simple redhead he’d been sweet on once before. Maybe he’d have his own house to fill with the sounds of little pattering feet and laughter. Maybe he would have settled down and taken up the farm and his wife would have helped his Ma cook dinners and played cards. But there would always be this part of him missing, this part of him that longed to hit the dirt road that curved through Kelay and promised adventure and something more than the endless bounty that his charmed, little life offered. Because as much as Niall loved his family, he’d always been the one with wanderlust. The one who wanted to go out of the trees and into the unknown. And what he’d found there had been rewarding, even if he’d run from it too. “I don’t.” He answers honestly, not moving away from her either. His eyes were dark. “I needed you today, like the trees need sunlight and rain. I might have ran off,” The honesty makes him flinch. “I did when they put my pa and brother in the ground. I couldn’t stay.” He laughs, but this time there was no humor in his voice. “But you know that about me. I’ve never been good at tending my roots.”
Brennia didn't think much of the mishap with her name. Who knew two short months with Raven would have such a hold on the man. "That means more than you know, Niall," she responds to his offer of family and a home for whenever she needs it, but she knows it would be far too tough to be around him too much in this environment. She knows it would lead to far too many daydreams that simply cannot be, not with her health. Her gaze slips down to his lips with the way he can turn a phrase and it makes her stomach flip, but then she forces her eyes back up to his own. "Hey, that's okay," she reaches out because touch has always been a comforting thing for her. One hand gently cups his bearded cheek while the other rests on his chest, "anyone would have done the same. It is what grief does to us and I am sure everyone understands, but you are here now and I don't think I had anything to do with it," her smile pokes dimples in her cheeks as she hopes she has soothed some of his guilt. "You'll get good at tending your roots when you are good and ready, Niall."
Niall smiles again, ignoring the way his heart aches in his chest at her touch. He could smell the sweet scent of chocolate and peppermint wreathing around him, comforting even if it was out of place in the summer heat, with her nearness to him. He wanted to take her into his arms again, and possibly much more, but he knew better than to wish for things that could not be. “I haven’t earned that faith, but I’ll hold on to it anyway and hope you’re right. You usually are, so there is hope for me aint it?” He laughs again. Then he offers her his arm. “They’ll wonder if I’ve run off again and taken you with me,” He tells her, his tone teasing. “Then I’ll never hear the end of it. Since Ma isn’t around to beat me with her spoon I imagine Jealynn will take up that honor and she’ll hit much harder.”
Brennia doesn't realize how comforting his smile would be in this moment and maybe there is an ache in her chest as well, but then it ends in guilt. Her wings have shifted and she doesn't realize as it drifts on down to the dirt at their feet until it is far too late. She lets out a giggle along with his laugh as he is moving out of her reach in order to offer his arm. The avian reaches out to take it, but realizes something was amiss as she feels something on her foot. "You better be nice to her," her gaze drifts down to see the silk sash at her feet and her face goes ashen. If he goes to reach for the garment, she adamantly says, "no, no… leave it." Even in the face of being hunted by the Flewminati, she never looked so frightened, but she gathers herself and paints on that smile she is so good at faking before taking his arm. "Let's prove them all wrong then and head back, but only if you're ready?"
Niall stalls as he reaches for the sash. “What's wrong?” He looks around, his own heart racing as a reaction to the fear on her face. He looked for movement in the trees, knowing a woman like Brennia must have enemies that might follow her even here, but there was nothing. No sound, no motion. The forest was quiet, only the soft music of life and the gently swaying branches in the hot summer breeze. “What is it, Brennia?” He straightens, reaching out to place both hands on her shoulders. He’s reminded then, how much weight she’s lost. How fragile he seems underneath his work-worn hands. “Are you hurt?” He searches her face desperately for clues.
Brennia shakes her head, continuing to smile while putting some distance between them and the sash, "nothing like that. It is just a silly Vere islander's superstition that if a funeral sash is dropped that is a bad omen. I am sure it holds no truth, but I just don't want to risk it because I think the both of us had enough bad luck in our lives as it is lately." She softens and her shoulders relax under his touch, "just leave it? For me?" She gives him that fake puppy dog pout and once she has convinced him to go back to the house filled with joyous remembrance and celebration of Mama Coin's life she seemingly forgets all about the sash (even though it has not forgotten about her). Surely they are pulled to opposite sides of the party and periodically she would glance around the room to find him, make sure he's still okay before returning back to her conversation. Eventually they coax Brennia into singing with them and she warns them, "look. Ever since I lost my power, I don't think I sound all that great, but for you all I will try," was that something she has told Niall yet? No? Whoops! The band starts back up in a bluesy mood as her raspy voice starts out soft and serene, "Sunny day in all its glory. Hot as the middle of summer. The wind came in and graced my face and it led me to your eyes," in retrospect, she should have picked something else. Anything else, but she could not get these lyrics out of her mind anytime she was near Niall. The chorus swells after another verse, "I, I don't know. I don't know how. I don't know how to love you. Oh I, I don't know baby. I don't know how. Said I don't know how to love you." Maybe Jaelynn gives a playful glare to her brother.
Niall ’s worry seems to lesson, only a touch, when it’s clear she was not in pain or danger. Still, his brows are knit together with worry at the mention of a bad omen. As they head back toward the house he wonders what this could mean, or if it had to do with his family or the lovely woman that had been wearing it. Both possibilities had the grip of icy fear clenching like a fist around his heart. He did not know if he had the strength to see himself or his loved ones through another loss. There was too much pain, too much death. A steely resolve settled around him then, somewhere between the laughter of the night as they celebrated his mother’s life and mourned her death. The resolve to protect his family and the woman he still loved, and might always love, no matter the cost. No, he did not know how different his life might have been if he had taken a different path, but he knew now that the one he needed to walk. He loathed the times he spent apart from Bre, even as he knew that the fondness his family had for her demanded he share her attention. Still, he caught her lovely voice as she mentioned something about losing her power. He had been frowning, brooding into his beer, but even that sour mood could not stay when her impossibly beautiful voice reached him. Even without her bardic magic, Niall thought she was the most talented songstress in all of Lithrydel. He tried not to read too much into the lyrics, despite the look his eldest sister cut him, and despite the way they resonated deeply within him. When the song ended, he pushed his way forward to shower her in compliments and praise. And perhaps ask her to dance when the next song starts up. And he would stay close with her, until there were no more songs to be sung, and no more stories of his mother to share, and all the tears had dried. He held her close until it was time to let her go again, and time for him to sink into his bed and dream of the sound of her voice and the look in her teal eyes.