If Yesterday Should Speak

[Josée's Note: Okay, a little quicker than I had intended. This is a 4,800 word fanfic involving two characters and an NPC from my "London By Night" Vampire: the Requiem game. Helena is a Ventrue NPC who was treated badly by her sire and former domitor, Deveraux. She was rescued by two PCs (Merris and Czaka), and has become Merris' partner, and an adoptive mother to his also-embraced daughter, Lucy (who is a knife obsessed 14-year-old). Merris is an ex-smuggler who left his wife and newborn daughter to keep them out of harm's way. He found his way to London and has since been embraced into the Gangrel clan and has become Seneschal of London. Czaka was a Polish art forger, embraced by the Mekhet. She met an unfortunate end in a botched 'rescue' attempt after Merris was found to have erased parts of his memory to aid an enemy of the Fief. Prince Emily, I should note, IS the same Emily as listed in other froth on this blog, but this is an alternate universe version who shares a similar, but not the same, background.]

Song List:

Human – Christina Perri

Cups – Anna Kendrick

Say Something – Kurt Schneider

Let Me Go – Avril Lavigne

Hope/Xavier’s Theme – John Ottman [This when moving the urn is HORRIBLY bittersweet]

Perfect (Acoustic) – P!nk

Who Knew (Acoustic) – P!nk [This fits so well near the end]

Bridge Over Troubled Water – Hayley Westenra

If Yesterday Should Speak

Dedicated to Ryan (Merris) and Jak (Czaka).

           “We should move Czaka’s ashes soon.” Helena commented, thoughtfully, as she sat outside the pillow fort with Merris as he sewed. He turned to look at her, somewhat taken aback. “Sorry,” she replied, with a small smile. “I just don’t like the idea of her being in that dining room…especially alone.” She explained, with a small frown. Merris tucked the needle into the fabric, and looked at her, surprised. She hadn’t commented on the urn’s position before, and it hadn’t seemed to be a concern to her; until now.

            “Where are you thinking?” He asked her, looking out of the Hall doors, into the dining room the ashes were being held in. “I’m not sure it’s…” he tried to find the right word “…sensible…that we put her next to Emma…” He ended, flatly, though his lip curled into a slight smile at the thought of Czaka and Emma chiding each other.

            “We could put her in one of the bedrooms; one of the proper ones, the smart ones?” Suggested Helena, flicking through her mental plans of the house. “Or there’s the courtyard, so she could be outside and not cooped up in this place.” She added, with a small shrug. “Or she could join us in here and…you know…” She said, quietly, “…she could at least have company…” She sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “It just doesn’t feel right for her to be in that huge dark room alone.” Merris frowned, thinking. His mind was still somewhat preoccupied with the memory of those rivets clattering around Emma’s urn, and that made him unnecessarily uncomfortable with sharing the pillow fort with an urn. They were reminders of the death that had plagued those he associated with for far longer than was comfortable, and Czaka’s in particular stung. After all, had it not been due to his decisions…she would never have needed to make the doomed ‘rescue’ attempt in the first place. Plus, it was his own space, for he, Helena and Lucy to share. While Czaka was a close friend, she was never family…and it was his family he needed closest right now.

Did Czaka like nature? Merris wondered, thinking through his conversations with her. If she did, she had never told him. But is a random bedroom any better? He thought. Czaka would still be alone, in a dark room, so if that was what was making Helena so uncomfortable, it wouldn’t help her any…and would be even further away from everyone else.

“Let’s take her to the courtyard.” He replied, with a slow nod. “For the first time in a while she’ll be in the sunlight.” He added, smiling slightly. “And it’s a nicer view than being in the house.” Helena looked at him and returned the smile.

“Yeah.” She replied, faintly. “Yeah. The courtyard sounds good.” Concerned, Merris reached for her hand, placing the dress he was embroidering down on the table with his other hand. Helena looked at him and smiled weakly. “Shall we?” She asked, quietly. He nodded and stood up alongside her. “Should we tell Lucy?” She suddenly queried.

“No.” Merris replied, almost resignedly. “She’d run amok anyway. Perhaps it’s best if we leave her to her ‘sparring’ for a bit…” He added, his eyes glancing at the main stairs. “…She’d only be annoyed we were interrupting her anyway.” He grinned. Helena chuckled.

“That’s true.” She sighed. She walked with Merris across to the dining room. The vase from the Langham Hotel that held Czaka’s ashes was sat on the far right end of the table, and Merris walked over and picked it up. It was the first time he had held the vase since collecting her ashes from the floor of the Prince’s antechamber. It felt heavier than he remembered, and as he carried it out to the courtyard, there was an emptiness within him; a numbness. As he walked, he mused on what things would have been like had she believed him, and let Emily do as she needed. There would be no urn. He began. Czaka would have been with us, fighting as she always did, at the Castle. She would be here with us in person, not in a vase. She would be fighting with Emily and fighting alongside Lucy. As he stood in the courtyard, he found a place between two willow trees, and dug a small hole. He went to place the vase in, and Helena stopped him.

“Wait.” She said, and knelt down. She placed the lid of a teapot in the top of the vase, and padded it with some richly coloured material so it fitted snugly. “Now the mud and rain can’t get in.” She explained, as she stood back up. Merris smiled gratefully at her as he began to cover it over with mud. “I don’t suppose you could embroider a plaque for her?” Helena asked, her voice soft but a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“I could probably try.” He replied, actually thinking of the possibilities. “What would we put on it, though?” He asked.

“I don’t know…” Helena paused. “You knew her better than me. What would you suggest?” She asked, looking at him uncertainly. Merris paused for a second, struck by the enormity of this question. How do you sum up someone’s life in such an insignificant number of letters and sounds? How do you take all that they were…and whittle it down to words on a page? Czaka was larger-than-life. Czaka was arguably mentally unstable. Czaka was…

He began to speak, his eyes closed and expression unreadable. “Czaka Snedgo. Died 20^th April 2014. One of the bravest and most dedicated people I ever had the privilege of knowing. One of my closest friends, she lived for the people she cherished; defending them, sheltering them and caring for them. She will be missed…but she will never be forgotten.” Helena smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder gently with his hand.

“Sounds perfect.” She replied, quietly. “Looks like you’ve got another job on your hands…though this one might not pay in boons.” She added, trying to be light-hearted.

“It doesn’t need to.” Merris answered, his eyes not moving from the disturbed dirt over the urn. “She deserves something to mark her resting place.” After a few seconds, he pushed himself up, and stepped back. After some time, he sighed, looking up at the sky. “Dawn’s near. We should rescue the training room from Lucy.” Helena nodded.

“I’ll go make sure the fort’s clear enough for sleep.” She replied, giving his hand one final squeeze. “Goodnight, Czaka.” She said, clearly, to the courtyard before turning around and walking inside. Merris stood alone in the courtyard; his heart heavy.

“Goodnight, Czaka.” He repeated, his voice echoing off the stone walls, amplifying the loneliness that threatened to engulf him. “Bask in the daylight for me.” He stepped back, and then slowly turned and walked into the house.

He spent the next twenty minutes convincing Lucy to stop slashing the (very torn) punching bag with her shiny new three-headed axe, and eventually resorting to using his wolf form to ‘herd’ her downstairs and into the fort, much to Erian and Styx’s amusement. Once Lucy had put her axe away, and her many knives, the family began to settle for the night; Merris and Helena holding each other a little more tightly than the nights before.

The following evening, Merris found himself awake just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Lucy had pushed herself between him and Helena, and the two of them were sleeping nestled together. Confused as to why he was awake, he suddenly heard a muffled sound, but he couldn’t discern where from. Gently moving himself away from the two women, he crept out of the main fort, and between the fort and wall. Again, there was that muffled sound and it sounded as though it were outside the room. Concern growing, he entered the fort to take one of his knives from his jacket, and then exited the fort ‘compound’ that he and Lucy had created. His eyes scanned the room and the atrium beyond it. He was on high alert, ready to react to whatever came through the doors. But the noise began once more, and he realised with a pang of fear and shock, that it was a voice calling…for him. It was both familiar and unnatural at once. The voice itself was one he knew, one he had not heard for at least two months, which was frightening in itself…but it was distinctly different. It sounded distant and near all at once; as if the speaker were communicating through a long hollow tube, underwater. The voice was distorted and dampened…yet it was clear.

It was Czaka’s. And it was calling him.

Merris’ hand tightened around the knife. Dominate could, in theory, make another speak for someone else…but he had never heard of it being used on the dead. He didn’t know if it was even possible…she was ash, after all. Deliberately, he silently crept through the house, following the voice, which led him out into the Courtyard.

And he could never have prepared for what he saw.

Stood next to the urn, which was still buried, was the iridescent, ethereal figure…of Czaka, her face clean and unmarked; eyes both shining and undamaged. As he entered, her eyes caught his. “Merris!” The image spoke, in a voice that shimmered on the breeze; clear as diamond yet thick as tar. “You’re safe!” She cried, relief flooding her voice.

“I told you I would be, you silly bugger.” He half-choked out, struggling to believe his eyes and ears. He looked her up and down. “Your face…” He blurted, before snapping his eyes shut and starting again. “I mean…you look…complete.” He floundered, hoping she’d understand what he meant.

“Apparently kindred can’t do this.” She replied, gesturing to herself. “But all that seems to have changed is my appearance; back to how I looked as a kine. I remember everything I remembered…I know everything I knew.” She sighed. “Has Emily been treating you well?” She asked, hollowly. “I didn’t die so that she could walk all over you.” She added, her voice level and almost without emotion. Merris felt a pang in his stomach. It was difficult to hear her talking; knowing that she knew she was dead.

“She’s…had a tough time recently.” He began, trying to figure out how best to word it. “We won the War.” He began, tentatively upbeat. “The Roses are gone. I’m just sorry that you weren’t there with us to see it…” He frowned.

“Good riddance.” She muttered under her breath. “So if you won…what’s her problem?” She asked, blunt as ever. Again, Merris felt the twinge in his stomach. He had forgotten how precise Czaka’s disarming blows could be. He tried not to think on the three hundred or so people he had killed in the explosion, or how close he Evangeline, Helena and Lucy had come to death.

“Evangeline.” He replied, somewhat shortly. “War is war…people die, so Emily says. But…Evangeline…chose to kill a Rose after the War ended…which has got her in no small amount of trouble.” He sighed. He slipped the knife under his belt and ran a hand down his face. “Emily…the Prince” He emphasised her role, “…doesn’t have many options other than…” He sighed again. “…Other than to execute her or bloodhunt her.”

“What?!” Czaka exclaimed, “And you’re willing to let her?” She asked, shocked.

“She doesn’t have a choice.” He began, knowing how quickly this could devolve into an argument. “The other Fiefs are watching. London’s vulnerable as it is! Any weakness seen in her could lead to more fighting…more War.” He realised how much he sounded like Emily, and it worried him. “Evangeline…she had no reason to kill the woman.”

“Yes she did!” Czaka exclaimed, “The Roses have threatened this Fief ever since we arrived! They’ve used and abused everyone they could! You’re going to let your sire die for killing a Rose?!” She cried, disgusted. “You’re going to stand there and watch someone else die at Emily’s hands‽” Merris reeled.

“The Prince” he reiterated “has given her a week to run. We can get her out. We can find a way of getting her to safety.” He insisted. “She’ll be safe. She took on O’Malley and survived. Helena, Lucy and I will know if she needs our help…but you know as well as I do that that won’t be the case…”

“How kind of her.” Czaka replied, dryly. “And you’re happy to exile your sire? What’s happened to you, Merris? What happened to the man who would cross hell and high water for those he cared about?” She challenged him, taking a half-step, half-glide towards him. “What happened to the man who would fight to defend…” She stopped, abruptly, realisation dawning on her face. “You changed. You changed the moment you met the Prince.” She spat. “You stopped fighting.” Merris glared at her, wounded.

“Stopped fighting?” He choked, angrily. “Stopped fighting‽” He drew himself up to his full height; his neck cracking slightly as his eyes bore into hers.

“You sat there, as she killed me, Merris.” Czaka snarled. “You sat and you watched as she hacked off my head.” She growled, almost spitting each word. Merris flinched. “I was there to protect you.” Her voice grew soft, and regretful. “I was there to stop her from doing what she did to me; to you.”

“I couldn’t stop her, Czaka.” He replied, willing her to understand. “You killed her Ghoul; regardless of what you were trying to do. I told you I would be fine. I told you. I just had to let what was going to happen, happen, and then…that would have been it. Life…unlife…would have gone on. Everything would have continued.” He explained, his voice soft but passion-filled; and then the fire returned. “And as for fighting.” He angrily sighed, gesturing to the three scars above his eye as he casually pulled at the neck of his shirt, revealing deep, thick, raking scars. “I never stopped. I never had the chance to stop.” She went to interrupt but he continued.

“After you died, London was set ablaze. Helena, Lucy, Evangeline, Czarrite, Styx, Erian, Avery and who knows how many more…we were all left without homes; all left to fend for ourselves. Emily let us stay here.” He emphasised. “She could have told us to bugger off and go somewhere else, but she let us stay. Then Trellion and the Roses decided to issue an ultimatum to Emily; give them the city or get out…and we were forced to fight again; for real. It was war, Czaka.” He tensed as he began to see the images roll through his mind once more. “Evangeline was torpored, I almost died, Czarrite almost died…” his voice quietened, “…Lucy almost died. We were lucky. In that one…night…I killed so many people. I fought things you’ve never encountered and I single-handedly created an image I wish I could forget. If you want to believe I stopped fighting, then by all means be my guest.” He spat back at her, pain in his eyes. “I wish it were true. You will never see the things I’ve seen or know the decisions I have had to make for the sake of this Fief, and for the sake of my family.” He glared at the ground, his voice tinged with regret and anger, tears in his eyes. He looked at her, his voice regretful and quiet. “I am so sorry for the trouble I got you into; for the hurt I have caused and the awful things I said to you.” He paused, and sighed softly. “And I am so sorry…that I just sat there and watched you die in front of me.” A single tear fell, crimson against his pallid cheek. Czaka stood there, stunned. Merris shook his head and swallowed. His anger and frustration was waning, and instead he was left standing there reeling from his own thoughts and memories.

“How is Serafiem?” Czaka asked, after some time. “Was his house burnt too? Was he in the War? Is he safe?” Merris paused…uncertain of how to word his response.

“Truthfully…I don’t know. When I went to pick up your letters, Marcus said he was a ‘guest’ with the Roses. The fires started before we could check if that was true. We haven’t seen him since…and Marcus hasn’t been around either. Maybe they both escaped, and are hiding out together like us?” He suggested, earnestly. “I…I honestly don’t know, Czaka. I’m sorry.”

“Please find out. Please find him.” Czaka quietly requested. “He took me in when no-one else would have; when my own husband walked out on me for how I looked.” She looked slightly more hopeful. “Is Milosz with you? Did he return? Does he know I…died? I…I mean, I’ve heard that Kindred can tell when those they’re close to have died…did he?”

“Who’s Milosz?” Asked Merris, confused. “Your husband? Is he…Kindred too?”

“Yes, he was embraced a few months before my death. He came across from Poland, with Serafiem’s help. He…didn’t take well to my appearance and disappeared. He hasn’t shown up, then?” Merris shook his head, apologetically.

“I wondered who that letter was for. I haven’t seen him, nor heard anything about him. Any ideas as to where he might be?” He asked, uncertainly.

“No…as I said, he disappeared.” Czaka looked crestfallen. She sighed and then looked back to Merris. “You mentioned Lucy…almost…dying.” She said, trying to take her mind off her missing husband. “…Is she okay? Is she safe?” Merris nodded, somewhat relieved to get back to things he actually did know about.

“She’s fine, now. A little battered, a little bruised.” He replied, smiling comfortingly. “She’s sleeping in the main hall. You can come and see her,” he suggested, trying to ignore the implications of the offer, “if you wish? She’s sleeping in a…well, the way it’s been described is a ‘pillow fort’.” He grinned. “Helena’s with her…they’ll be waking up soon, I expect.” Czaka smiled, and then sadly shook her head.

“It seems that I can’t move much beyond this spot.” She replied. “I tried to come to find you…but I couldn’t move more than about six feet in any direction.” She frowned. “But I am glad to hear she is well. She’s the one Kindred who showed me I didn’t have to let any other Kindred push me around.” She smiled.

“Well, she’ll be thrilled to hear that.” Merris chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “She was gifted a three-headed axe by Czarrite; she’s been so thrilled by it she’s taken to curling up with it in bed.” He added, shaking his head slightly, as Czaka grinned. “Oh, and she likes walking around in plate armour, it seems. Sometimes I wonder if she was a knight in a past life, with her addiction to armour and weaponry.” He pondered out loud.

“She would have been fearsome.” Czaka commented. “Wasn’t there a warrior Queen in England, far, far back in history. Red hair and…” she trailed off.

“Boudicca?” Suggested Merris, and then his eyes widened. “That would be terrifying.”

“Having a past warrior Queen on your side isn’t a bad thing, though, is it?” Asked Czaka, again smiling.

“It is when she’s your current-life daughter.” He replied, with haste. His jovial tone left him for a moment, and he looked at Czaka. “Why did you have to run in at the hotel?” He asked, quietly; downhearted. “Why didn’t you trust me?” Czaka sighed and raised her eyebrows, a small, knowing smile on her lips as she returned his gaze.

“You, my friend, have a habit of putting yourself at risk for the sake of everyone else. I would almost suggest you get a kick out of near-death experiences.” She commented; the tiniest trace of a dare for him to deny it on the edges of her words. “I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want you to throw yourself away. You had Lucy and Helena to watch out for…” She sighed. “…Me? Well…Serafiem managed perfectly well on his own. He didn’t need me. I infuriated him more than I pleased him. And Milosz…” She shrugged. “Milosz walked out on me when I needed him most; when I needed his acceptance and his love…all because of how I looked.” She frowned and shrugged sadly. “No-one needed me. I was expendable…not like you.” She finished, mournfully. Merris looked at her, disbelieving.

“I…needed you.” He replied, the words feeling awkward, but true. Czaka looked at him and shook her head, dismissively. “Look…I should have said this when…” he floundered, trying to fit the words into the right places. “…before everything exploded into chaos. You were the first true ‘friend’ I made in this country. You saved my life the second time we met, you helped run a heist not even the Roses believed we could pull off, you saved Helena from living her life as nothing more than…” he growled “…Deveraux’s favourite pet, you found her children a new home, you were willing to face Lucy and take whatever she wanted to throw at you after Eleanor made you take her away…” He counted on his fingers every instance. “You were…you are so, so dear to me…and Helena.” He paused and then shrugged. “And Lucy too, though she’s too proud to ever admit it.” He wished he could hug her. It was with heavy heart that he realised, as he reached out for her hand, that she was truly incorporeal. “You deserved a better friend than me, Czaka.” He commented quietly; apologetically. “I always acted like you were just a colleague…but you were always more than that. You were…my closest; my dearest friend.” Czaka looked at him, with both joy and sorrow.

“Thank you, Merris.” She replied, softly. “You were the only friend I really had here, too. That’s why I wanted to help you as much as I could. I never meant for it all to go so horribly wrong.” She sighed. “Did you and Lucy read my letters?” She asked, almost in a whisper. Merris internally cringed.

“Lucy did. She was slightly bemused.” He smiled as he remembered. “Helena…isn’t Lucy’s biological mother…” he paused for a second, uncertain of whether to continue or not. “…though I wish she were.” Czaka covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed.

“Sorry…” She replied, hastily. “I didn’t mean any…I just presumed…”

“It’s fine.” Merris reassured her, laughing. “Neither Lucy, Helena or I had any issue with it. She seemed more concerned you were tied up somewhere as a prisoner. I…hadn’t really known how to approach your…death…with her.” He explained apologetically.

“And you…?” Czaka asked, questioningly.

“I haven’t read mine.” Merris awkwardly replied. “I…didn’t really want to open it. I…didn’t want to think of you as…gone.” He explained, delicately. “And…then things got out of control with the fires and war and…I never got a chance to sit alone and just…read.”

“Will you promise me one thing?” She asked, gently. “Will you sit and read it sometime soon? It’s…” She fell silent for a second, as Merris looked at her with questioning eyes. “…It’s all there is left of me. These letters…they’re all that I am now.” Merris reached for his breast pocket, before remembering he had left his jacket in the main hall.
            “I will.” He replied, nodding. “I promise.”

Czaka’s outline began to shimmer and fade. She looked down at her arms and then looked back up. “It seems like my time has run out…” She commented, looking at Merris wistfully.

“Are you going to return?” He asked, confused. He took a step towards her.

“I don’t know…this visit was something of a surprise in the first place…” She replied, perplexed. “If I can…I will. I promise.” She nodded. “If I can’t though…know that I am sorry; and that I am proud to be able to call you my friend, Merris.” She said, with a definite nod.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better accomplice in all those hare-brained schemes.” He replied, with a grin. “Nor could I have asked for a more loyal friend.” He added, nodding courteously in her direction.

“Goodbye, Merris.” The slithers of spectral light called, as they faded. Standing alone in the courtyard, watching the place her smile had last been, Merris replied.

“Goodbye, Czaka. I hope we meet again.”

He stood there for a while, feeling both comforted and lost. The wound that had been Czaka’s death had been opened once more…but there seemed to be more resolution; more…acceptance of it this time. He sat in front of her ashes, looking at the churned-up soil. It didn’t make any sense. How could she have appeared? Vampires exist… he began to think, maybe ghosts do too? He mused on the idea. He would have to ask her more about how she had materialised the next time (if there was a next time, he suddenly realised) she appeared. Why couldn’t she enter the building? Why did she suddenly disappear? Could everyone hear her? Could everyone have seen her? His mind boggled with the questions he now had.

Suddenly, from behind him, he heard footsteps. He turned, and Helena was stood there, concern etched on her face.

“Merris?” She asked, softly. “Are…you alright?” She walked towards him, and he offered his hand to her. She took it, and knelt behind him. “We wondered where you had got to. Lucy went looking in the cupboard again.” She added, with a smile. Merris looked over his shoulder and smiled at her.

“Yeah…I’m good. I…” he chuckled. How on earth was he going to explain this to her? “I…had a little chat with my guardian angel.” He explained, a slightly humorous tone to his voice. “I think she’s happy enough with where things have ended up.” Helena looked at him, surprised.

“I didn’t realise you were spiritual…?” She replied, inquisitively.

“Neither did I.” He grinned. “It’s funny how our experiences change us…” He shrugged lightly. Helena looked at him, uncertainly.

“You didn’t go out feeding, did you?” She asked, shuffling to sit next to him, scrutinising his eyes.

“What? No!” He answered, wondering what she was thinking.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, as if speaking to a child.

“Helena…what…?”

“You…didn’t happen to find anyone…a bit…you know; iffy. Did you?” She uncomfortably queried, feeling bad for disbelieving him.

“‘Iffy’?” He repeated, losing the track of the conversation. Helena suddenly seemed to take on her professional tone, as she placed a hand on his cheek and thoroughly examined his eyes.

“You didn’t feed from a drug addict, did you?” She asked, plainly.

“I haven’t fed at all, Helena! Honestly!” He exclaimed, laughing at her. “What on Earth gives you that impression‽” Helena sighed, and rubbed her temples.

“Okay, let’s say this was me. If you walked out to find me sat next to the urn of my dead friend, grinning, claiming I was feeling fine and that I’d been talking to my ‘Guardian Angel’…what would you assume?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and holding her palms out towards him. “Well?” Merris looked at her, and tried not to respond, but he couldn’t resist.

“Helena…” He began, measuredly. “…If I had told you some years ago that you would no longer be alive but be living, and that you would adopt the man you pulled bullets out of on a dockside and his knife-obsessed daughter as family…” He began having trouble stifling a chuckle. “…would you have believed that?” He grinned again. Helena sighed and then smiled.

“I guess not.” She agreed, raising an eyebrow. “Okay then, so why are you so content?” She asked.

“Well…” He began. “…I am still alive, for one. I have a wonderful pillow fort I made with my daughter waiting for me, and I know that my best friend is more at peace now than ever before. And to top it all off,” He paused for a second. Why is telling her so much more difficult than telling Czaka‽ he thought. Collecting himself, he steeled his courage. “I am sat with the woman who…in all honesty…should have been the mother of my daughter.” He said, in a single breath with his eyes firmly shut. He opened them to see Helena looking back at him with surprise. “Oh…and who thinks I’m on drugs.” He added, with a grin.

“Maybe not…” replied Helena, mollified. Merris smiled, and stood up, pulling her up with him. He put an arm around her shoulder.

“Now…I should probably explain why I was out here…but…it may take a while…” He began, as they walked out of the courtyard together, the stars shining above, and the moon illuminating the disturbed soil with its soft glow.

The End.