A murder of crows watched the funeral procession with their eerie black eyes, ruffling their feathers and squawking from their perch on the winter bare trees. There were no mourning crowds draped in black as Cecil would have wanted. Only one invitation had been sent out for their guest of honour and only one would have answered regardless now that Cecil's misdeeds had been spread through Rionnach like a virus on everyone's lips. Valther was the name they praised for his bravery in exposing his crimes while Eleanor's was whispered with scepticism. Did she know? It was the question that everyone was asking. Valther did nothing to settle the flames surrounding her either. He made vague comments like “I cannot speak for Eleanor,” and smiled politely at them. The servants had their own theories which they shared with each other and Valther didn't bother to silence them. He wanted everyone to look upon him as the favoured Calyx heir to strengthen his hold over the inheritance that he had stolen. Cecil was unceremoniously dumped into the hole that had been dug for him besides Valther's favourite perch on Eleanor's parent’s gravestone. A few of the servants tried to spit in his grave and Valther, ever the good son, asked them to treat his father with respect if only for him. They obeyed and murmured about how Cecil didn't deserve such a kind child. If only they knew that the cuckoo growing fat on the Calyx riches was much worse than their former master. |
Crawling away in defeat and refusing to heed the invitation to honor her uncle one last time after her failure to lower her head in deference to Mutt was not an option. No matter how much she wanted to leave Rionna, sail across the sea and leave this life behind, as the only true Calyx left, it was her duty to uphold the legacy being tarnished throughout the city they called home. The lies she heard when she shuffled through the streets were like insidious vines falling over her and tangling around her limbs, her chest, her throat, tightening into a noose with every step she took. And still she held her chin high, determined that if she was going to be choked then she'd at least keep her dignity. |
The gathering of Cecil's former victims and servants were the only ones who were in attendance and they left once the service was over. Most had wanted to see their tormentor entombed within the earth so that it could serve as their final memory of him. Valther knew how burdensome unfinished business could be so he accepted their presence and they benefited him because they had served as the perfect audience for the final act in his plan. The crow’s croaky serenade was silenced by the time the doors opened and the soulless husk Eleanor Calyx stepped inside. He recalled seeing more life in the amethyst gemstones that Cecil collected than within the glassy dual-toned eyes that watched the service unfold. Her words were like an empty echo, a doll speaking with Eleanor’s voice yet stripped of the essence of who she was. He smiled, content in seeing the one who had scorned him so emotionally ruined and hollow. |
Where did it all go wrong? Eleanor couldn’t stop the question from whirling in the storming planes of her mind as she approached her parents' gravesite and the pitiful mound next to it that was all that remained of Cecil Calyx. From powerful titan commanding an audience to disturbed earth, it ground the fractured pieces of her heart into fine dust. Only the high garden walls stopped a stray breeze from blowing it away. |
"It's your fault," Her hatred was like a sweet ambrosia filling his hollow, wicked heart with ecstasy. Valther had carried the torch that had burned down her world in his own jaws and now he was watching it all go down in flames. With an almost twisted sense of curiosity he was eager to see what would remain of Eleanor in the ashes. Would she still hold herself in such high regard when everything was taken from her and her tattered pride was all she had left to her name? A carnivorous grin, full of teeth and predatory hunger flashed in the last few moments of Eleanor’s fleeting consciousness and with one last insult he had the final word. As if donning a mask his expression shifted into the solemn mournful countenance expected of a grieving son, stepping away from Eleanor and leaving her to the servants to attend to. - Exit Valther |