Three Souls would mourn, Three Souls would ache in the loss of a man they each had known in different manners. An Adunian, carving away at a piece of oak she had in her scarred hands, seems to feel her soul have a moment of respite. Her tired eyes, and healing limbs seemed to ease their tension, as her eyelids shut and her shoulders sagged. There was no thought to this moment of repose, no real reason, but for that short time, a weight seemed to be lifted from her shoulders. It was a relief she had not felt in some time, and perhaps that made her all the more wary. She had let her eyes open, scanning throughout her room as if expecting some outside source of this unknown alleviation- but there was no one. With that, she turned her emerald hues back to her carving, and let her tension return as the oak shaped into the form of something familiar, something known. A Wolf, with a calm disposition, standing tall and almost foreboding. Deeper in the afterlife, someone old- someone long since passed- seemed to feel their soul have a relieved ache. It was the kind that seemed to either feel relief and sadness all the same. Glowing gold eyes seemed to look around her, a darkness that was never ending in her own Hell- her hair flailing about like flames as she inhaled a breathless wind. Nothing was around, as she had expected, and even then she was grateful in some odd way. The woman’s Hell was her own, and even if she had thought to see another soul, she was glad she didn’t. Her form shifted, never there but never gone, and she seemed to shut those eyes as she let that moment of reprieve flood through her soul- for that was all was left of her. Before she eased away into nothingness- like a flame snuffed out.
A little red-headed Elfess seemed to go about her day, cleaning her home and sipping some tea. Perhaps even conjuring up some alchemical concoctions she had hopes to make. Though soon something bitter resided in her chest. A moment of aching sadness that she couldn’t quite place, it was odd- but not uncommon. Memories were not kind to her, but even then she caught herself remembering an old face, one she hadn’t seen in a long time. Such was the norm to her unfortunately, and she let out a somber sigh. Perhaps one day she’d meet that gruff figure, who had read her like an open book, but thus was wishful thinking. Her head too far into the clouds, and unaware of the passing of someone she had met twice before- each with different faces- each with different interactions. With her heart aching for faces she had hoped to see again, but never did, she continued her day. A little less of a skip in her step, and her ears down-turned in that melancholic way.
(R.i.p. A real one.)