Winter's End (Closed: Solo RP)

The grassy knoll in front of René blew to the side in the wind. After the heist, he’d had some time to think things over. What to do next. In front of him were three small unmarked graves. He’d collected and whitled some signs to go around them. From left to right, they read

Ana Zealia

Winston Anson

Cindy Alfons

Even though he was unsure if his cousin had ever made it out that night, he’d found it appropriate to commemorate her memory regardless. It was safer to assume she was dead than to hope for a second that she was still alive. To have hope was a double edged sword in its own right. If you were right to have it, you’d win. If you were wrong, then you’d hurt yourself. He sat himself in the grass, tucking his hands around his bent knees. At this point in time, he was over crying. The pain had been there for too long to still feel tender. It was more of a comforting throb nowadays. He gazed at the sun speckled rocks in front of him, their wooden labels glaring at him from afar. A smile creeped along the edges of René’s face, a sad smile that he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop it. The truth was… no matter how long he waited, no matter how much time passed, he would still miss them. They were very close friends, and the recent untimely death of Alan had reopened his thinking about death. It was like death was new to him again, even though it was ever present.  

A few hours passed, and the sun had joined him, its golden head resting against the indigo fields. The wind was blowing stronger, the wooden signs swaying in the breeze and he decided it was time to go back to town. Night was setting in, and even though he was safe inside the walls he couldn’t shake the constant fear that death was coming for him next. That it was looming behind every tree and shrub. He shivered as he trudged back into town.

The houses carried a soft orange glow guiding him back to humanity as he sighted the edge of town. He broke into a jog, steadily gaining on the buildings. René had booked a room with an inn he’d been to before. They were expecting him to be back soon from his visits and he hustled inside the somewhat crowded floor restaurant. Most of the patrons were in groups; playing cards, drinking or eating, or even just sitting with friends and talking.

Friends…

René was in a shortage of them. They seemed to go so fast these days that it was hard for him to keep up. He closed his eyes tightly against the brightly lit interior, making his way upstairs to his room. The barkeep waved him over before he had the chance to continue though. He and the guy had gotten to know each other over the years. “Hey René, how’s it going?” The burly man had saved him a stool and a mug of tea as he knew the scout hated to drink after visiting. “Alright, how’s business been at the inn? Your family?” He chuckled, wiping out a beer mug. “Everyone’s doing well! It seems business has had a spike recently. We’ve got a full house tonight!” René smiled at him, teeth flashing. “That’s good then! Thank you so much for the tea by the way, it’s been a long day.” He nodded quietly as a patron approached the bar asking for a drink. The bartender left to take care of his customer. The floor was rather full tonight, people coming in and out. People going about their lives. People going away from reality for a short while.

Even with the constant threat of the titans, the constant loom of the walls, René found it hard to believe that people could even continue with ordinary life. Their way of life had drastically changed. Instead of feeling saddened or cautious, even worried, they carried on with life. Some didn’t even seem to care. Later in the evening, he managed to snag a seat at a bar table that was playing rounds of cards. Black Jack. He hadn’t played in a while though, and had to give up his seat to another player for losing so quickly. The crowd grew larger with the dinner swell and he wandered back outside. He would visit the graves again tomorrow. Maybe spend the day talking to them, however crazy it sounded. He still missed them, and the bitter feeling that took home in his ribs only seemed to expand every time someone brought up death.


~ The next day: morning ~

Watching a sunrise was always interesting, even if they all seemed to be the same no matter the day. The hike out to the graves and away from the sleepy city helped calm his nerves and help prepare his head for what he was going to do. His hands were shoved in his pockets against the chilly morning air, and he’d gotten into the habit of tucking his nose into his coat collar to protect against the wind. Today, even though his wardrobe was rather sparse, he’d decided to wear green. The last color that he’d seen on all the people who were close to him that died. It was kind of ironic, but let the group kind of come together as a whole big family. He shrugged, eyes closing against the sun glare as he came over the hill. And before a grave, stood a figure. His hand went up to shield his eyes and he quinted against the bright light.

The breeze carried the figure’s hair and skirts to the side. It was a women. But who could be living out here? René realised he’d stopped on the hill, and he forced himself to continue to the graves. Partially so he could visit as he’d intended, but also so he could get a better look at the figure. As he got closer, the sun glare wasn’t as vision obstructing and he was able to make out her face. She was thin, but not frail looking. Her pale green eyes stared at Cindy’s grave and her light brown hair was brushed in a bob, the bags of which were swept over the right side of her face. As René approached, she turned, looking vaguely surprised at the aspect of another person being out from town this far. He nodded at her before turning to look at the graves. He’d noticed that she was clutching a woven basket at her hip. For a while, they both just stood there in silence. She spoke first. “Did you know these people?” Her voice sounded like fresh morning dew, and it carried toward him on the constant breeze. His hands were still in the pockets on his dusty brown coat. “I did.” His eyes closed, warding off residual tears. “They were very dear friends of mine.” The grass swayed quietly, a bee who’d been drifting by landed on one of the grave’s. “One of them was a relative. My cousin.” She seemed to stir at this, absorbing his words. She still hadn’t responded so he went on. “Those two were in… were in…” A hand closed around his shoulder, and he looked down to see that the girl was resting her head against his shoulder, eyes closed. “It’s okay to still be hurting,” she whispered. He resisted the urge to tense up. “I haven’t seen my cousin in years either.” She continued, her eyes opened and met his. “I’m scared that he’s been dead all this time too. I can only hope the best. She bent down to read the wooden plaques, stopping at ‘Cindy Alfons.’    

“Cindy… Alfons…”
He straightened. “My cousin. Did you know her?”
She stood, turning towards him.

“I am her.”

The wind was beginning to be relentless, and in that moment, he stumbled back.

“C-Cindy? Is it… is it really you?”  He could barely contain his childlike excitement. Seeing someone who’s been missing for years is really something. The joy and hope that flood through you is unbearable.

“It’s René. Your cousin.”

She seemed almost equally surprised at the statement of his name. The started at the same time, but René met her first. His arms closed around her, drawing his cousin near. He still had family left. “I don’t want to ever see you go again.” The whisper that passed between them sunk them to the grass, where they hugged for a long time, both crying their wares into the other’s shoulders.

At last she pulled back, eyes reddened with tears. He hands slid to his arms, pinching him to make sure he was real. She pinched herself. Her mouth was in a wide ‘O,’ almost like despite the truth, she couldn’t believe it was real. She hugged him again, and he squeezed back, only then noticing that her right ear was missing. “What happened that night your pushed me out of the house?” She looked at him. “I tried to run after you, and he caught up closer to an outpost. He had a knife… and he threw it at me while I was running. Luckily not all Garrison members are terrible…” She trailed off here and there, wincing at the memory. “He was caught and jailed, so hopefully he’s long dead now.” René nodded. His uncle had been a real scary man. THe sun had reached mid sky by the time she elaborated on her story, and René had suggested the two head back into town and have a drink or something. They took the sign for Cindy’s grave with them, intending to burn it later.

At a different restaurant, they talked about what they’d each done since they’d last seen each other. René talked about his military service, which Cindy seemed to hate. Cindy talked about moving between various towns, taking up odd jobs here and there.
And life seemed, just for a second, to get a little better. To get a little brighter. He had family now, and although it might become painful in the future, he was overjoyed for once. In the moment he felt gladend, and happy. René finally felt whole for once.