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Jul. 2nd, 2010 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaThere is no body to bury.
There isn't really much of a crowd at the funeral either. The people there were underlings who had no idea what Byakuran was doing, people who have escaped the Millefiore's destruction of others simply by being nameless faceless cubicle working drones. They showed up at the funeral because it was a funeral for their boss.
The Vongola guardians lean against sleek dark cars like the FBI during a burial in a mafia movie. Gokudera smokes, the grey smoke curling upwards towards a clear blue sky.
It's not raining. Shouichi half thinks it should be, for the drama. The air isn't biting with a crisp fall air, nor is it light as spring. It's soon to be summer and the air is heavy with humidity, gravity pressing everyone down onto the earth with the weight of the water in the air. Shouichi can feel the white button up under his black suit jacket sticking to his skin with sweat.
The white orchid in his hand droops, one petal falling off before Shouichi even manages to place it on top of the casket.
Byakuran has no living relatives, no cousins or brothers or mother. Instead it is Shouichi who is charged with tossing the first shovel full of grave dirt on top of Byakuran's grave.
It hits with a dull sounding thump, echoed by thunder as clouds finally roll in to block out the oppressive heat.
There isn't really much of a crowd at the funeral either. The people there were underlings who had no idea what Byakuran was doing, people who have escaped the Millefiore's destruction of others simply by being nameless faceless cubicle working drones. They showed up at the funeral because it was a funeral for their boss.
The Vongola guardians lean against sleek dark cars like the FBI during a burial in a mafia movie. Gokudera smokes, the grey smoke curling upwards towards a clear blue sky.
It's not raining. Shouichi half thinks it should be, for the drama. The air isn't biting with a crisp fall air, nor is it light as spring. It's soon to be summer and the air is heavy with humidity, gravity pressing everyone down onto the earth with the weight of the water in the air. Shouichi can feel the white button up under his black suit jacket sticking to his skin with sweat.
The white orchid in his hand droops, one petal falling off before Shouichi even manages to place it on top of the casket.
Byakuran has no living relatives, no cousins or brothers or mother. Instead it is Shouichi who is charged with tossing the first shovel full of grave dirt on top of Byakuran's grave.
It hits with a dull sounding thump, echoed by thunder as clouds finally roll in to block out the oppressive heat.
