Peek: A Life and Death Situation

Grim enjoys his work as the Groundsreaper.  At first, he did the Master's bidding because he is the Master, so he must obey.  The graveyard was a mess when he first got put in charge of it.  Corpses strewn about, graves open, tombstones cracked and shattered, and possibly worst of all: grass overgrown and unruly.

But he did the Master's will, and has come to take pride in what he's wrought.  The grass has been brought into line, graves have been properly filled, corpses properly interred... and didn't that take some effort.  He would have happily tossed corpses into the nearest hole, but the Master wished them to be put in their proper place.

And so Grim had to read the tombstones, and learn who should go where.  A stunted skeleton was Roland Greenbush, a child taken by a fever decades ago.  A portly zombie was Hellen Carter, a woman who was a traveling merchant, died of a heart attack.  And so on.  Each stone marker and corpse told a story, and Grim grew to be honored to learn them all.

And the whole time, the presence of the Master would wax an wane, and ideas and concepts would occasionally pass through the bond.  Perhaps the oddest, at least at first, was the idea of flowers.  A plant that wouldn't need to be constantly threatened with his scythe to stay in line?  A strange idea indeed, especially after having removed most of the creeping vines from the crypts.

Then there was the encounter with the Crystal Shield acolyte.  To everyone else, it seemed Grim didn't even notice the surge of power, but he did.  He simply wasn't affected.  He could feel the life in the energy, and somehow it resonated with the idea of the flowers.  How far apart are life and death?

He pondered that question whenever he had to scythe the grass, letting his arms move as his mind works.  The Master has been attempting to expand on the affinities of the various scions, but hasn't had much advice to give for death or earth affinity.

The Master doesn't wish death, though he prepares for it.  Perhaps not for his own, but for others.  The central mausoleum has been specifically prepared to house delvers that fall.  And yet, the idea of it staying empty intrigues Grim.  Death can't be halted forever, but it can be stymied temporarily.  His fate affinity resonates with the idea that few people's destiny is to die in a dungeon.

No, the only corpses should be the ones that the townsfolk bring to inter in his yard, and the various undead spawned and sent to the catacombs.  Those who walk in should walk out.  Those carried inside in boxes should be laid to rest and remembered.

His musings are interrupted by an old grey-muzzled wolfkin, bent over her cane.  Miss Benintha, widow.  "Excuse me?  Can I pick one of the flowers to put on my dear Jerlof's grave?  He always acted tough, but he always returned from his adventures with the flowers still in his hair after I've weave them for him.  No matter how long it was.  Why, one time..."

Grim nods and moves to the flower bed, going slowly and letting Miss Benintha talk.  The first time she did this, he had no idea how to respond.  Thankfully, no response was really needed.  And now she actively seeks him out to relive her time with her husband.  He chooses a flower and scythes it, and carries it as he follows her to her husband's grave, silently listening to her story the entire time.

They reach their destination and he hands her the flower, and she pauses her nostalgic ramblings to reverently place the flower by the tombstone.  After a few moments, she chuckles before glancing at Grim.  "Will you give him flowers when I'm finally laying beside him?"

It takes the skeleton scion a moment to realize she's talking to him, and a few moments more to decide his answer.  He shakes his head, then points to both her and the tombstone.  She tilts her head for a few seconds as she considers that response, before giving a small smile.  "For the both of us?"  Her gaze grows distant as she looks at the gravestone, imagining the scene with a peaceful smile.  "That would be nice..."

Grim reflects on that in the comfortable silence.  Yes... life and death are not so far apart, after all.