Fate - First Reply The Black Stone Memorial

[Grendel Strand]

It had to be hidden.
It had to be buried so that they could be remembered. So that the rebel dogs did not defile it.
A simple obelisk hanging from the roof of the catacombs. The names of Loyalist Sons and Daughters etched into each of the seven sides.
Among them were his father and brother.

Vel Anir had forsaken gods in favour of mortal leaders, replaced ritual with respect but even so Grendel could not deny the hallowed nature of this place.
A story and a half of space lit by dozens of candles and small fires. Visitors in black. Silent mutterings and shoulders still shaking with grief.

Grendel Strand let his hood down and breathed in the smell of bones and burning wax.
The walls were bones. The world above was as far away as the clouds themselves. Here the world was right again. It made sense.

 

[Amell Quillon]

“A bit young to be visiting,” Amell Quillon strode forth, dressed in his formal uniform. Every honor and award he had ever received would be found in ribbons and medals, some bronze, some silver, and one gold. He had ironed his uniform himself, every single layer deemed perfect by his own icy eyes. Platinum hair was severely slicked back, the concoction used for his hair was the only item that Amell used and deemed it a necessity instead of a luxury.

“But then again, the youth should be respectful when they’re young.” Amell went to one knee, wondering if the young man next to him could tell where his injury hid in his body. He looked down to his well polished black boots. The boy’s reflection could easily be seen, surrounded by a dark, inky abyss. “You’re one of the few good ones left if you’re here.”

Grendel Strand

 

[Grendel Strand]

"You are never too young to Mourn your kin, nor to loose them."
He remembered the celebrations and how they struck his heart like hammer blows. Many called it liberation but Grendel saw no freedom in all the death and destruction, the rebuilding and the shame of it had broken more than one family while others like his own still worked to heal the scars left. His sister Maggreska still barely spoke to anyone as if the grief had stolen her voice.
He snuck a side glance at the man next to him but Grendel had not ever met him before though his medals and finery told much of his tale.
"You were there, you fought back didn't you Captain?"
His voice was low and reverent, calm and deep with the importance of the memory.

Amell Quillon

 

[Amell Quillon]

“I was not.” Amell clarified, his velvety voice taking on the slightest hint of regret. “I was to the North. On that exact date…” he paused, as if he needed to remember what exactly he had done that day. “One of my men caught Violet Fever, his throat so swollen he did indeed look purple. Our medic was normal, there was nothing he could do other than try to fix the swelling.” A defining moment of silence and then the Captain sighed wistfully.

“I do think if I had returned earlier, what side I would have taken.” Another sigh, shorter and softer. “Surely the side of family.” The wisp of a droll smirk would easily be missed even as Amell set a strong, heavy hand on Grendel’s shoulder. There was little physicality as to why the hand would feel so heavy, even to one as accomplished as Grendel despite his age. Perhaps it was the weight of his father’s expectations, the expectations of the Urahils—or rather, just Felix in general— or maybe the weight of the future that looked before Amell is what weighed him so.

Yet, despite the heaviness of the dead around them, the heaviness of the blood-made bonds of family, and even against the titan-weight of Vel Anir’s silent judgement, Amell carried it all with grit and grace, standing tall and straight.

Grendel Strand

 

[Grendel Strand]

Grendel thought of his Father, who died in the early part of the struggle and his brother who bled out alone in the filth of the Elf quarter. At fourteen he had been one of the youngest combatants, though his role was small, he was stationed nearer the outskirts of the capital. His Mother's idea, she felt there would be less fighting there. She was technically correct but in truth there was fighting everywhere.
"Perhaps it's a blessing you were not here. Something of us needs to survive all this. Our heritage stands on a knife's edge. What we once took for granted now must be hard fought to keep."
The weight of Amell's hand was like a stone around his neck but he had become used to such things. Being the eldest now he had been hurried to become what his family needed him to be.
Application to the Academy that could have waited a year and engagement to a young woman who should be meeting his brother. He was not his brother, Nerdhem was a better leader than him and he knew it. Two years of wishing did not return his brother to him, he did not expect it to happen now but all the same he wished for it.
"Whom did you lose?"

Amell Quillon

 

[Amell Quillon]

The young man was right: as long as one of them remained with their mind and sense of reason intact then the legacy of Vel Anir wouldn’t die out. As long as one survived, they all survived.

“No one I once loved is buried here, but there are some here that I once knew. I respected them so I will continue to show my respect, even if….” Amell trailed off, icy gaze wafting about until finding that one particular spot. “Even if they remain forever young in my mind.” He finished, almost wondering when he became such a poet when he had only ever used words to get his thoughts out as pristine and precise as possible. His heavy hand left Grendel’s thick shoulder.

“Whom do you visit? Someone you loved or someone you respected?”

Grendel Strand

 

[Grendel Strand]

Grendel's eyes fell upon the obelisk.
"I come for my father and brother. They died doing their duty, protecting their homes and comrades against, traitors and murderers who now sit in offices they stole."
His fists balled and he felt the familiar anger travel from the back of his skull to the front, where it settled behind his eyes.
"I try to remember them as they were."
His father had been given a mockery of an execution and his brother died in a cowardly ambush. The desecration of the bodies was insult to the existing injury of their loss.

Amell Quillon