on_holy_ground | WM - 46.6 - Immortal / Pick-A-Fic - Mournful!Darius for <user site="livejournal.com" user="aoutlaw32

The sun was just sinking below the horizon when Darius paid a visit to Aidan. It cast the stone that marked the young Immortal’s place in the small cemetery in a rose colored light, just tinged with a hint of gold. It was beautiful in the kind of way that made the heart hurt with the knowledge that a friend would never see such things again.

Kneeling, Darius rested a hand on the gravestone, letting what little warmth that was still there from the heat of the day seep into his skin. He shook his head slightly as he looked at the names that were written there in marble. They had been far too young and full of life to be buried now in the ground, but such things could be said of so many. However this particular death had hit him on a level that many others never could.

Perhaps it was the fact that Aidan had not even lived one single lifetime that made it so hard to accept. Yet that was not uncommon among younger Immortals these days, when the ways of the sword were not taught almost from birth. No, Darius knew why it was that he felt a sorrow for this young man that went above and beyond that which he felt for others. He simply did not like to think on it, given how much Aidan’s death had echoed his own.

Darius knew that there had been no one there to catch the boy’s quickening when he fell. No building surrounding him that might have somehow saved Aidan from oblivion, as St. Julien’s had saved him. The hope that somehow Aidan lived on in some form other than memory was so dim as to be almost nonexistent. Yet Darius did hope, despite the grim reality of the situation. Perhaps somehow, someway, the boy’s existence had not all been in vain.

Sighing, Darius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small medallion. He looked upon the ancient Celtic symbol that was painted on the surface and remembered when a dear friend had given him the piece many years before. Although simple in design, the spirals were meant to represent the three stages of man: birth, death, and eternity. It was time now, he thought, to pass it on to someone else, and so he carefully set the piece on the grass between the two names on the marker. Then he slowly got to his feet, patted the marble surface one last time, and headed slowly back to the church.