in the arms of an angel {Rhodes + Miristioma + Katelyn}

Sorrowful eyes locked onto the eyes of his brother through the shattered windows of the shake Kyrian called home. A broken heart clawed at his ribs begging to escape the chains holding it inside as he watched Elidor stack wood into a nice, neat pile. A joyful tune rang through his ears, and the younger brother knew what was going on - Elidor loved singing especially with Weaver. Silent tears rolled down the side of his face. A fractured nose was nothing compared to the sorrow lingering inside. Every breath hurt. Each step was a constant reminder of a brother not coming home. Kyrian was foolish to think Weaver stood a chance, but giving up on someone he loved and cared for wasn't possible. Yet none of it compared to the task Ikaia sought help with earlier. It all went against his morals, but realizing it was what Iain wanted was more than enough for him to honor the request of a fallen brother. The Miristioma family and the Rhodes family were brought together by a terrible fate, and thankfully two were alive. But three were dead. Crusader Rhodes, a man who loved unconditionally, and a man who willingly gave up his life so Patricia could survive, Iain Mirisitoma, a young, innocent child who showed the world that he was stronger than he was ever given credit for, and Weaver Rhodes, a quiet man who never hurt a fly. Yet the dead shouldn't be celebrated, only the living.

But there was a time to mourn, and this was that time. Ikaia glared out the front door staring at the tiny cherry tree he bought from the district square. A box was hidden in one of the rooms in attempts to keep it cool, and Kyrian found himself pacing around wondering when they'd return. All was ready, he only needed his brother standing next to him to hold him up when he was falling down. But Weaver was dead, and the bond he shared with Kyrian snapped in half as his soul was carried away with the howling winds - "How do ya do it?" His voice cracked, and his red eyes met the gaze of Ikaia. "How do ya get up everyday knowing ya ain't gonna see him?"

Ikaia turned away, but only for a moment. Kyrian imagined he was trying to find the correct words to say, yet he was met with nothing other than a truthful realization. "I do it for him, for Iain. He would want me to be happy. He wouldn't want me moping around all the time." His hand rested on Kyrian's shoulder, and he found himself breaking over and over. "And I think Weaver would want the same."

Every muscle in his body tightened, and his hands clenched into tight fists - it took every ounce of willpower he had inside him to not punch Ikaia in the face. But he understood. Weaver wouldn't want him walking around like a dead person every single day of his life, however, this wasn't an answer he wanted to hear. "I would say it gets easier, but it -"

"I'm not stupid, Ikaia. I've done gone through it once before. With Crusader. I know it doesn't get easier." Kyrian interrupted before storming away from the room. On the way out, his fist connected with a wall. Blood trickled down his knuckles. Violent sobs bubbled in his throat, and he tried to hold it down because only weak people cried. Yet the silent tears rolling down my cheeks begged to differ. "I didn't mean to upset you, Kyrian." His voice was quiet and calm. "If you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

"Appreciate it."

Dry, brown grass crunched beneath the weight of his body. Birds flew through the sky filling the air with cheerful tunes. Elidor finished stacking the wood, Laia finished digging a hole. It was almost time, yet Kyrian dreaded the moment. A soft sigh slid past his lips as he turned around and walked back into the old ran down house. Thumbing through the closet, he found the outfit he was looking for. A nice white button down shirt, and a nice pair of jeans to go along with it. He ran his fingers through his scruffy hair wondering if he could fix it in anyway, but after a few short moments he had given in.

After staring at his reflection, he went outside and stood in front of the stack of wood for only a moment before following Elidor into the tribute cemetery where the body was resting for burial. Iain was already waiting at the house, but they still had to get Weaver to his final destination. The walk was in silence, but the grass and birds made enough noise to block out the constant roars bellowing deep inside his ears.

Weaver was heavy, yet he wasn't the heaviest Kyrian had lifted, and with the help of his brother, the weight was nothing more than a feather floating restlessly through the sky. His knees wobbled, and he almost toppled to the ground several times on the journey back, but soon he stood in front of the wood watching as Elidor placed a cloth neatly on top.

His knees gave, and he collapsed against the ground the moment Elidor opened the box and removed Weaver from inside placing him nicely upon the fire pit. Laia and Ikaia carried the casket holding Iain outside. His face was pale, and Kyrian was worried his brother from the other family may pass out at any given second. His eyes were surrounded by big, dark bags. Junior and Ekain ran outside standing in front of it all trying to figure out what was going on. Elidor grabbed a giant branch before wrapping a tip of it in the same cloth covering his brother, and Kyrian stood around watching as the world spun quickly around. He watched as his brother dumped lighter fluid on the cloth, and he watched as he covered his brother in it.

Then he stood and waited.

Until his knees gave once more, and he's wrapping his arms around Weaver's limp body. Violent sobs erupt past his lips.

"Why did you have to die? Why?"

His words were lost as he pressed his head against Weaver's chest, and Elidor lost it with him. Both of their sobs filled the air until Ikaia' and Laia placed a hand on their backs, but neither of them said a word as the two brothers painful sobs echoed through the air. Nothing made sense, and time ceased to exist as one simple question rushed from his tongue.

"Why?"

But as people started arriving, he forced himself into a standing position, and he greeted every single one of them. A fake smile twist across his face, yet the truth remained visible inside his eyes as a river flowed down his face leaving a puddle beneath him.