Work Text:
Even the ground seems to be weeping.
The lilies sprout, vibrant red against the grass that has long turned grey by the hue of the sky. Droplets of blood that once splattered into the earth, now blooming again as something new, something beautiful, a new pathway for it to take. Each petal glistens like new life, standing tall against the water attempting to pummel them back to their creator.
The sound of drums beats down around the stone, an unshaking, unmoving rhythm against the silent, still figures that stand with their canopies blocking the drumming from soaking their clothes, which are already damp around the arms and collar. An applause from the heavens themselves, waiting for someone to join them, thanking those that allow it. Unhindered sobbing of the dark clouds above, apologetic for everything they’ve done, joining in with the ones cloaked all in black.
A chorus of shadows standing tall, even as they weep and cry and wail, tears mixing with the sweet ocean that pours around them. They must appear strong, although nobody expects them to be, as it is their desire, their wish to remain forever present for those around them, as they will be in return. A ring of circles from above, their shades block them from the world outside, begging to catch their attention, begging for them to join them.
The drums beat louder as they threaten to crush the feeble flowers beneath, and the figures weep as they hide from it. A drumroll, anxiously waiting with bated breath, calling out, applauding before the act happens. A bead of blood mixes with rain, with tears, as a soul leaves, takes exit to the stage of their life, moves instead to the audience, to the place where they may feel peace.
And the figures cry.
They cry, and cry, and cry until they have no more tears, and the clouds part, willing the warmth of the sun to shine upon them. Come on, it says. You must keep going, it says. It is alright that you have lost, so long as you live.
The sun warms them, dries up the clouds’ tears, dries up their own, and leaves them bathing in the light from above, the light that so wishes for them to be real, to be happy, to live.
And as it does, the start of a new act will soon begin.