Post by Patrick Doyle on Aug 21, 2012 16:36:35 GMT -8
December 27th, 2011; 11:10 am
Patrick speared the shovel into the ground next to him, task done. A small square of recently dug ground stared at him, at the head, a large, flat rock. They didn't have a body. How could they? It was theirs. Instead of a body, they buried his things, his things. They couldn't bury the lighter, but they did replicate it and buried that one. Poor idiot loved his fire. Ironic he died trying to save people from it. A rotten shame.
Artorius didn't talk. Patrick didn't pry. They didn't need words. They knew everything already, one of the better circumstances that came with having multiple voices in ones head. So they knelt by the freshly turned grave in silence. They always liked this place, this little grove they found years ago. The waterfall was loud but a peaceful sort of loud. Theirs.
Patrick contemplated the years. Conrad was twenty-two. To die so young. Pity. They'd had an uneasy beginning. Worse off when Artorius showed up. Those two were at extremes, opposite sides of the coin, with Patrick in the middle, playing peacekeeper. After all, it was his body originally.
After a while, Patrick pulled out his wand and carved into the headstone.Conrad Wilson
Born 1989, died 2011
Death of an unlikely hero
He'd get a kick out of that. They spent their years taking down people the Ministry deemed necessary of taking down, war criminals, traitors, fugitives. Then he gets gunned down saving civilians. Not a bad way to go, to be honest, but it was odd, not something they really saw coming. Welcome, irony.
Conrad wouldn't want them to mourn for long. He'd kick their arses and pull out another fag to smoke. No use getting all choked up over something that already happened. Couldn't change it. They could hear him now. Thanks for the long haul, boys. Don't cause trouble without me. Patrick chuckled. Artorius pulled out a flask of whiskey and poured some over the grave marker, lit it on fire. It was fitting.
Patrick and Artorius sighed, rested the shovel on his shoulder, and turned around, beginning their long trek back to civilization. "Bloody idiot."