last rites and the end of all things

[lordling]

Who: The little lordling and those surrounding his last moments
Where: Archades
When: Late night
What: That remains to be seen


Some time has passed since the snake assailant found Lord Larsa and still he has yet to stir from his slumber. He breathes, though quite shallowly, but will neither speak nor open his eyes, no matter what any might try for him. Several have remained around his bed at all hours, keeping a constant watch over his progress, or lack thereof. After the first week, hope began to fail for his recovery. Now hope is nearly gone. For all intents and purposes, he is near death's door. Or perhaps he stands on the threshold, where one small push might be enough to see him soaring across, never to return.

Whatever the case, those closest to him are preparing to summon a priest for the final rites. May the Lord Larsa's soul find respite and peace.

Faram.

Comments

[blessedsaint]

There had been some very slight difficulty on Bur-Omisace in selecting which priest was to answer the summons for final rites. Rites for a child emperor. Had a Gran Kiltias been present, the decision would have been met with decisiveness and swiftly. Instead, the majority of the clerics had wrung their hands and glanced at each other. Just as fruitless as their unwillingness that any should step forward to fill the vacancy in their order. Ajora finally had enough of their dithering and strode promptly out of the temple to make for Archades, with his newest disciple in tow.

On entering the little lord's chambers, the priest lowered his head. It truly pained him to see the young man suffer, despite knowing it was to happen regardless. Still, he had no intentions of simply providing the Kiltias rites which were to bless the spirit's move from physical life to the Mother of All. Nay. There was greater work to be done here that man would speak of for centuries to come.

He lifted his eyes to appeal to the others present, healers and guards, judges. "You are quite certain nothing else may be done for him?"

[strayspride]

He maintains the a similar disguise to the one he had held before when he went through and freed many of the innocents from Archades' prisons under special orders, hair back and face painted such that it was grossly distracting and concealing of the dimensions of his features both, as well as a more modest blue hood and cloak over simple leather armour. He did not cede his weapons at the door, but he keeps his hands folded behind his back. His stance is implacable, and his expression a careful study of blankness where he hovers a step behind Ajora's shoulder.

This whole situation, everything he has learned since he was brought back to life in this world, scream to him of the wrongness of it all, but even those doubts are subsumed by his fear.

He trusts Ajora to do something for this, or—rather—he knows Ajora can do something, and to have a miracle evidenced at his hands would be all too convenient. That Ajora's "miracles" so far seem to be good for the people— Perhaps he means the words of his sermons after all. (He should know better, he knows that intentions and ends are not enough justifications for actions, but he finds himself yearning to hope, anyways).

His words are quiet, and his voice deeper—changed from what most of those present in this hall would know of it. But they arrest attention, anyways.

"They have exhausted their means, and are without faith that else may be found."

[fonronsenburg]

"Your disciple is right," Basch begins, on the other side of the room. He's worn, tired, frayed beyond reason, yet he stands when he should be on his knees. They had brought in the best healers they know for all corners of Ivalice, all of Archades. Even Penelo, the best healer he knows, could not stop the poison in the young Emperor's veins. It killed him to have to physically remove her from the room after she had exhausted herself trying to heal her friend.

It pained him to even think this, but they had exhausted their means of trying to heal Larsa, and he feels like he broke the oath he had sworn to his brother those years ago. Protect Larsa, and he swore he would. More shame to wear upon already burdened shoulders.

He steps forward, arms crossed against his chest. "Nothing and no one have been able to heal him."