Theme 10: Richard - Week 2

Been feeling a bit under the weather these past few days. Even now, writing feels like... omg, fingers moving but what's happening! XD so yeah. Not all here. But that's okay! Because today is easy-blog-day ^_______^

Week 2 of Richard! And I thought it might be nice to give a glimpse of his Human life, to compare it to his current-ish life in two weeks. His lifestory is mostly unedited, so forgive any linguistic weirdnesses o.o

(also omg for once it's non-sad stuff. Like, holy crap. Amaze-balls. XD (my brain is so sick, I swear. XD;))

Richard was shoveling the nearby mound of earth upon the woman's casket when a young girl approached him, fire in her eyes. He paused his work, wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, and rested his arms on the shovel's shafttip.

"Is this all a joke to you?" the girl asked, her tone hard and cutting, "Did you enjoy watching us suffer?"

Richard's head cocked slightly, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You were smiling, you… inconsiderate oaf! You were smiling! You were looking at my mother's casket and smiling!"

The girl burst into tears and hid her face in her hands. Clearly she had only managed to keep her emotions subdued long enough to express her discontentment. Richard's expression softened.

"I'm sorry," he said, resuming the burial of the now hidden coffin, "Didn't mean no disrespect."

"Well it was a disrespect you monster!" the girl exclaimed, revealing her tear-stained face, "What kind of person smiles at a funeral!"

Richard said nothing. He had no answer for her; what kind of person did smile during funerals? … why shouldn't he smile, knowing that her mother had gone to a better place? But how could he explain his point of view without offending this distraught girl further?

The girl yelled. "Answer me!"

Irritated yet comprehensive, Richard paused his work to look at her and chose his reply carefully.

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you're really sorry maybe?! That you understand I'm in pain and that your reaction was inappropriate?! That you realize you're burying my mother for Caterra's sake?!"

Ah. Caterra: patron saint of healing and life, the divinity to whom people prayed for saviour when death was closest to their door. Richard understood now why this girl's distress was immense and unyielding. It seemed likely that her mother had suffered through a long disease and eventually lost the battle against death.

Richard resumed shoveling, silently, and ignored the fuming girl standing mere meters away from him. Eventually he stated, matter-of-factly: "I lost my mother too."

He did not need to look at her to sense the tension in the air evaporating. Her long silence spoke volumes, as well as the quiet reply she managed to produce after having digested his words.

"You lost your mother?"

"Yes," Richard replied between two shovelings, "About 10 years ago… Maybe a few years more. She got sick and died."

"… I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment's realization, 'I—I'm sorry for yelling at you. I didn't know. I—"

"Don't worry about it," he replied with a headshake, "It was a long time ago. She's in a better place."

Richard's statement was followed by another long silence, which the girl only broke once she had come to stand next to him and they met eye to eye. No longer anger burned in her eyes, but incomprehension and desperation.

"… how can you stay so calm?"

She was trembling, Richard noticed; lost, confused, and somehow eager to understand what thoughts may be passing through his head. He paused his work again to stare right back at her.

"It was a long time ago. She died, my father buried her, and we've moved on. I know she's in a better place now… so how could I not stay calm?"

It was clearly not the response the girl had expected; her expression soured, tears rolling from her eyes.

"You're heartless…"

Richard took a deep breath. "I'm not heartless. Look around you: how many graves do you see?"

Reluctantly, the girl complied. Many graves surrounded them; many of which only signed by a small carving, by a piece of wood protruding from the soil. A few, from wealthier families, stood out in great stony glory at the edges of the well-kept graveyard. There were many dead here. Too many to her liking.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We buried them all."

Confusion wrinkled the girl's face. So Richard elaborated, calmly, despite irritation gnawing at his patience.

"Imagine crying every time someone dies and you're the one burying them. Imagine feeling sorry, grieving, every time it happens. How am I supposed to do my job then?

"So," he continued, seeing the dawn of comprehension softening the girl's expression, "You know what I think about? My mother, and how she's in a better place. That's how I do my job. Aeyin willing, yours is in a better place too."

And with gruff determination, Richard picked up his shovel to deliver the last few strokes and finish the job he had began. The girl backed away to give him space, and watched in silence as Richard finished burying her own mother's coffin.

When he straightened to take a deep breath, she risked a questioning, "'Aeyin?'"

Richard looked back at her. "Yes. Why?"

"I've never heard of Aeyin. Who is that?"

Richard stared at the girl a while longer, trying to identify what manner of curiosity animated the question. Had she asked out of genuine interest, or to mock him for his beliefs? Either way, what would be thought of him if it came to light that he believed in an Elvin deity, here, so far away from Elvin borders? As a matter of fact, he never knew why his mother had believed in Aeyin to begin with – but oh, how fervent a believer she had been, and it had only made her a more profoundly good person. What was he supposed to say?

"She's," he slowly began, thinking over words and possible repercussions, "a goddess of life. She gives us life, and takes it away when our time comes. That's about it."

"… She 'takes it away'? Don't you mean Tenumbra then?"

"I've never heard of Tenumbra."

"Oh. Well... …"

The rest of the afternoon they spent in each other's company, discussing at length their beliefs, their lives, their hopes and dreams for the future. The following days the girl, Melinda Richmond, daughter to one of few successful Everton merchants, spent in company of Richard Hole, gravedigger by trade and passion. Though Melinda's father was not pleased to see his daughter falling for the local undertaker, the recent loss of his wife and Melinda's profound happiness influenced him to accept the relationship nonetheless.