what's the name of death?

Her dewy eyelashes had been dried, and coated with mascara. Her red nose had been dabbed, and smeared with foundation. Her chest was motionless and controlled, and her racking sobs had been bottled and put to the side. Where they should always be.

Grief could always be dealt with- it was just a matter of time until it faded and was eventually forgotten. When the bitter poignancy of loss would weaken, it was exhaustion that she feared.

Wasn't it exhaustion that pushed grievers into insanity?

Harmonie had been having nightmares.

They were sweet, early memories of her childhood- her parents were still very much alive. Her father was mostly absent. She feared that she would lose him- lose his scent, lose his voice, lose his smile. She would lose him to her own pathetic capability to cherish and remember. So, instead, she conjured false memories, and her father would slip into a scene when the girl herself deemed ideal.

She knew that they were nightmares when she woke up. They were false, euphoric illusions. And when she left the warm, hazy safety of her dream realm, what was she greeted with?

Her reality.

She was tired of nightmares.

Her dark eyes swept the crowd of mourners placidly. Each one of them held a black rose- a small funeral favour. It was an elegant touch that Harm was sure her mother would have enjoyed, had she been here.

A bitterly wry smile tugged tiredly at the corner of Harm's lips. This was the last thing they would do as a family, she supposed. It was a fairly grim activity- but at least it was classy. Everything was extravagant- the church they had been in, the decor, the soon to be reception. Even the headstones were a dark, expensive marble, and in a white, engraved script read;








(GUYS. This is post funeral and burial.)

Twirling the rose around his fingers, Julian stared blankly around him. He hadn't been close the de Venin parents because well, they were the parents of two of his best friends. It wasn't like he'd had nice, kind, cuddly conversations with them.

Really, he was only here because of the two people their death left behind. Rubbing at his throat and trying his best to ignore the dull ache that he always felt these days, in his throat and just about everywhere else, his gaze flicked around the church.

Why was everything going wrong? Lisette's dad was in St. Mungo's, Julian himself had almost died and Ninette was - well insane. It was like their whole lives were imploding around them and they couldn't do a fucking thing to change it.

Finally finding the older twin, he quietly made his way around all the mourners towards her. Flicking his dull blue eyes up to her, he gave her a smile - or at least, the closest thing he could do to a smile these days. She looked terrible. Positively terrible. Momentarily wondering if he'd look like that when his parents died, he internally snorted. He'd celebrate the day his parents died.

"Harmonie," he rasped out, staring at her a moment before throwing his arms around her in an unusual show of public affection, "God, I - I can't even begin to imagine what you're feeling, but I'm so sorry. Nobody - you shouldn't have to lose your parents. Not like this."

Lisette stared at the gravestone, blinking back the occasional tear as she took in the people around her. All this time she had been fighting back the fear, the pain, the uncertainty. And now it all came crashing down on her.

People die. It's hard to accept, and you never want to believe it but it happens anyway. Next time, it might be her standing where Harmonie stood. Sure, there would be less people, and nothing would look nearly as nice or as lavish as it did now, but that wouldn't make it any less sad. She was still fighting. She could still lose.

She looked up at Harmonie, and realized there was no way that she could understand what the girl was feeling, nor could she know what thoughts lied behind that mask of makeup. Lisette walked up to her, and put a hand on her shoulder, "No matter what happens, Harm, you'll never be alone. We'll always be here for you." Even though it sounded ridiculously corny, it was the most reassuring thing she could think of saying.