Rosas For The Dead

-XXX-

Stern

RIIING.

The door buzzed. It was painted in a cream shade.

My eyes ran to the clock. An hour had passed.

Must be a customer.

The shopowner slipped past the table.

In an instant, my companion’s head turned towards me, eyes lighting up.

“What kind of weird flowers do you think they have here?”

I laid face-down on the table, an arm covering my head.

“Nothing too crazy, I hope.”

“I wanna see those dalacians he was talking about!”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see one for life.”

The door creaked open.

My ear jumped, hearing a stick scrape the floor. Slowly, I lifted my head.

It was a lady, seemingly in her middle ages. Her gray hair was tucked into a bun, one arm gripping a stick.

Her back hunched, as her feet raggedly dragged across the floorboards.

The scraping stopped. Her eyes flicked towards us.

“Who are these young ladies?”

“Just some new employees.” Kair stood behind her.

Her feet turned, stepping towards us.

“Nice to meet you.”

She extended an arm.

“Same here.”

I held mine out too.

Her other hand reached out to Laurel.

“Here too!”

She took it instantly.

“Rosas again, Mrs. Weslie?”

The old lady nodded.

“Ooh, what are those?” Laurel ran up to him.

What a way to reveal our complete lack of knowledge of this world.

Kair stared at her, with a face that told he was contemplating his entire life. And I couldn’t blame him. If a grown man asked me what a daisy was back on Earth, I’d have the same face.

“What are you? Five?”

“Twenty-one. Thank you.”

He didn’t even push further, just left the house through the backdoor.

The woman glanced at us again.

“What made you two work here?”

“Uhh…” Laurel scratched the back of her neck. “I just really like flowers.”

“Added to the fact, this was the only job we could find.”

“Did we have to mention that part?” Her head turned towards me, pouting.

“You’ve already thrown all of your respect to the ground.”

A chuckle escaped Mrs. Weslie’s lips.

“You two seem like good friends.”

“We’ve known each other for 2 days, and both of them have been terrible.” I clarified.

“Ouch.” She put her hand on her forehead, giving a dramatic sigh.  “You’ve hurt my feelings.” Her head dropped to the tablet, as she muffled a laugh.

The handle of the backdoor turned. Kair emerged, gripping a bouquet of flowers with his good hand.

Oh, so that’s what rosas were.

“These are what they look like, Laurel.” He straightened his arm, showing the flowers.

“Roses?”

“They’re rosas, what the hell is a rose?”

“Oh, don’t mind.” She fluttered her hand, a sweat trailing down from her forehead.

“Must be a dialect difference.” I spoke up. I’d rather not have the conversation go this way.

He sighed, then lent the bouquet to Mrs. Weslie.

“Here.”

“Thank you, Kair.”

His eyes turned towards me.

“Scarlett, could you accompany Mrs. Weslie on the way back?”

I blinked, a bit surprised. Maybe it was just a part of the job here.

“Sure. I have to anyway if you ask.”

“Oh, that is unnecessary. I had no problem coming here myself, and I won’t have any on the way back.” The lady rattled, already turning around.

“We both know that home isn’t the only place you plan to go.”

His voice lingered in the air.

Then… after a moment of silence.

“Fine. Come along dear.”

Strange.

But I went anyway.

-XXX-

For the first few minutes, we walked in silence.

Which I didn’t mind. I seriously needed more of that in my life.

My eyes darted around, dropping on the people filling the streets.

Their attire seemed to be a lot more simpler than Earth. At least the common folk.

But if we talk about the hair, it was as if they had every color in the damn rainbow.

Finally, my gaze fell back to the old woman walking beside me.

She was awfully quiet the entire time.

And just as that thought passed my mind—-

“So, you’re not from here, are you?”

I nearly choked on my own spit.

“Huh?”

“You don’t look like you’re from here, and neither have I ever seen you.”

She knows I’m not from here? I do not need another problem on my list.

Forced out a nervous laugh. “Was it obvious?”

A smile formed on her lips.

Shit. Should I push her and run off? No, that wouldn’t do a thing. Do I have something sharp on me—

Wait… even if she knows I’m not from here, how does that matter—-

“Foreigners come all the time here.”

…

Oh so that’s what she meant.

“Is that so?”

“They usually stop here in Stern before leaving for the North Port.”

“Nice to know.”

A brief silence fell over again.

Only interrupted by the old lady’s stick hitting the ground.

And during that silence, I wondered why the hell that was my first conclusion.

Continued walking.

My eyes glanced to the side.

That’s one big statue. It was perched in the centre of the street.

Flowers were thrown on it.

Must’ve been an important guy.

I spoke up.

“So, rosas… who are they for?”

“My daughter. They were her favourite.”

My foot froze, only for a second.

“Makes sense, it’s a pretty flower.”

“So, how is she?”

Her face grew dark.

“She was a sweet child. Loved playing outside. She was the brightest and most joyful light in my life.”

“You seem proud of her.”

“I was.”

“What’s her name?”

“Marice.”

“It’s a nice name.”

“My husband thought of it. It was the same name as his mother.”

“How old is she?”

“She would’ve been around 30.”

…

I see where this is going.

She stopped walking.

“We’re here.”

My head lifted, gazing at the sight before me.

A black gate. And a tall fence that went around the entire area.

The air here felt heavier.

My eyes landed on the letters carved into the sign beside me.

“A graveyard?”

The gate creaked.

“Come in.” The lady whispered, stepping inside.

I didn’t really have a choice.

My foot pressed into the dirt.

Damp soil and wilted flowers filled the air.

A path led forward, disappearing into the thick fog. An endless sight of graves rid the land on both sides.

An endless number of people that could’ve met that creature.

The old lady in front of me took a sharp right. Venturing off the main course.

It only got harder to see the deeper we went.

But it was still clear enough for me to not miss a specific grave. One surrounded with a bouquet of red flowers. Pretty hard to miss.

I suspected that it was our destination. And I was correct.

Minutes later, we stood right next to it. My eyes scanned the name engraved on the stone. ‘Marice Weslie’.

“My condolences.”

“My, why are you apologizing?”

Right, we aren’t on Earth.

Emotional stuff never was my strong suit to begin with. My mind always went blank in situations like these, struggling to come up with anything to say.

Her hand gripped the bouquet tight.

“When she was 10, she was diagnosed with an unknown illness. One that no one could find the cause of…

You can’t make a healing potion for something you don’t even know the root of.”

I watched her place it down on the dirt with a care that made it seem like a sacred ornament.

“It’s thoughtful of you to give her these flowers. Do you come here every day?”

The lady kneeled near the grave.

“It’s the least I could do. After what I did.

During those days, it hurt so much just to see her in bed, withering away.

The glimmer and joy in her eyes was fading away and I hated it.

I despised it so much. Every time I left her room I would fall down and start crying.

Then one day, I stopped going entirely. I just couldn’t bring myself to open the door, to turn the handle and look at her.”

A choked sob echoed across the field of the dead.

“Every time I come here, all I can think of is why I couldn’t be there for her back then.”

Her hand clawed into the dirt.

“Why do I do this now? When she’s already gone.”

A tear fell, streaming down her cheek.

To think grief could affect a person so much…

I always thought it was foolish to sulk over the dead. They’ll never come back anyway.

Then again, you can’t mourn over someone you don’t care about.

And back on Earth, no one ever was that important.

But after dying here…

-XXX-

-XXX-

The snake goddess… could Marice have met her?

And if she did… was she in another world or was she reincarnated?

Whatever it was.

As someone who’s died more times than I ever needed to.

A cold wind blew past my face.

The least I can say is…

If she knew her mother brought her favorite flowers to her grave every day.

“I’m sure she would appreciate it.”

The lady’s head turned around.

“The rosas.”

Tears began to prick her eyes. She finally broke down, fingers clawing and scratching into the dirt.

Right beside the flowers, still gently perched.

And all I did was stare, since that was all I could do.

I don’t have a favourite flower, but if Loulin got any for my grave.

I’d appreciate it too.

~Rosas For The Dead~