For all that she's been noticeably affected since that horrible night, Keisha has never actually been seen at the cemetery level of Cold Crescent (aside, of course, from that night a little over a week ago when several packs went down and struck a mighty blow against the Beloved Horror). She stood up at a moot alongside Ingrid and Thomas and offered her apologies, her plea for forgiveness. She's thrown herself full-bore into every effort that she could think of to put an end to the threat that Green Dragon's minions offered. And the gentle smile that she was known for before August tore at her soul has been missing in large swaths; even when it's been shown it has been noticeably dimmer since the horror of The Floor 43 Incident. Some, then, might think it odd that with all that it's affected her, she didn't attend the Gathering and hasn't actually come to pay her respects to those that died in the terrible, awful conflagration and spiritual perversion that occurred up there.
Others, perhaps her packsisters, may have guessed at or sensed the truth of the matter. Sometimes, the guilt you bear is so crushing and so debilitating that if you allow yourself to feel it, you'll be crippled. You'll be driven into the ground by the weight of that metaphorical yoke around your neck, so insubstantial and yet as heavy as a pillory of lead. And so in order to go on at all, you shove that guilt down, bury it deep in your heart by piling plans and brainstorming and the next thing you need to do on top of it. If you've done it right and you've piled enough on top, only a little peeks out and you can still function.
The problem with this is, of course, that eventually that pile is sorted through. Tasks are discarded from the pile once they've been accomplished; plans slip away and fall into the cluttered refuse piles of the mind. And you can only brainstorm so much. At that point, the only thing left to bury it under is experience, washing it away with sensations that take your mind away from it. And down that way lies a road from which you'll never come back; the current is too strong. And Keisha's practiced a life of moderation since the night of her First Change, making that simply...not an option for her.
Thus, so she has nothing left to bury It under. And so she comes.
She comes to the cemetery dressed in a simple, plain white dress. She steps out of her sandals when she touches down on the earthen floor, bare feet taking her across the distance, past the resting places of so many others (some of whom were also victims of the Beloved Horror) until finally she comes to a stop in front of the place where a once-Fostern Fianna rests. Her hair is unbound, falling free over her shoulder and the dreads rustle as she lowers herself to kneel in front of the grave.
Truth be told, she doesn't have a lot of stories she would be able to share with anyone about the Philodox. She's only met him once or twice and she liked him; he seemed nice. But he was taken when she was still new to the city and thus she doesn't have a lot of memories to share. There is one she could share. One that she came across while investigating the apartment where he was held under Kelly's watch. But the specifics of that memory are something that she doesn't plan on ever sharing with anyone. Some stories don't need to be told, and it's the least that she can do for this man.
And so she purses her lips and she sits there, kneeled, for a long time. She says nothing because she doesn't need to. In the end, he rose and he struck a blow back against the Beloved Horror after death. He found his redemption in the end, and although there is much about all of that--the raising of the dead, the ending of more life--that Keisha can't quite come to terms with, she lets that moment through. That, she can be thoroughly okay with.
After a long time, she reaches out and sets her hand to rest on the earth. Her eyes shut and she whispers softly to his memory that she's sorry. And then she rises to her feet, and moves on to pay her respects to the others she's been unable to bring herself to visit. There were many Guardians who perished that night, after all.
One thing does not continue on with her. Her Iskakku staff remains where she placed it, over his headstone. She'll start on a new one tonight, but that one is his, now.
Others, perhaps her packsisters, may have guessed at or sensed the truth of the matter. Sometimes, the guilt you bear is so crushing and so debilitating that if you allow yourself to feel it, you'll be crippled. You'll be driven into the ground by the weight of that metaphorical yoke around your neck, so insubstantial and yet as heavy as a pillory of lead. And so in order to go on at all, you shove that guilt down, bury it deep in your heart by piling plans and brainstorming and the next thing you need to do on top of it. If you've done it right and you've piled enough on top, only a little peeks out and you can still function.
The problem with this is, of course, that eventually that pile is sorted through. Tasks are discarded from the pile once they've been accomplished; plans slip away and fall into the cluttered refuse piles of the mind. And you can only brainstorm so much. At that point, the only thing left to bury it under is experience, washing it away with sensations that take your mind away from it. And down that way lies a road from which you'll never come back; the current is too strong. And Keisha's practiced a life of moderation since the night of her First Change, making that simply...not an option for her.
Thus, so she has nothing left to bury It under. And so she comes.
She comes to the cemetery dressed in a simple, plain white dress. She steps out of her sandals when she touches down on the earthen floor, bare feet taking her across the distance, past the resting places of so many others (some of whom were also victims of the Beloved Horror) until finally she comes to a stop in front of the place where a once-Fostern Fianna rests. Her hair is unbound, falling free over her shoulder and the dreads rustle as she lowers herself to kneel in front of the grave.
Truth be told, she doesn't have a lot of stories she would be able to share with anyone about the Philodox. She's only met him once or twice and she liked him; he seemed nice. But he was taken when she was still new to the city and thus she doesn't have a lot of memories to share. There is one she could share. One that she came across while investigating the apartment where he was held under Kelly's watch. But the specifics of that memory are something that she doesn't plan on ever sharing with anyone. Some stories don't need to be told, and it's the least that she can do for this man.
And so she purses her lips and she sits there, kneeled, for a long time. She says nothing because she doesn't need to. In the end, he rose and he struck a blow back against the Beloved Horror after death. He found his redemption in the end, and although there is much about all of that--the raising of the dead, the ending of more life--that Keisha can't quite come to terms with, she lets that moment through. That, she can be thoroughly okay with.
After a long time, she reaches out and sets her hand to rest on the earth. Her eyes shut and she whispers softly to his memory that she's sorry. And then she rises to her feet, and moves on to pay her respects to the others she's been unable to bring herself to visit. There were many Guardians who perished that night, after all.
One thing does not continue on with her. Her Iskakku staff remains where she placed it, over his headstone. She'll start on a new one tonight, but that one is his, now.
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."