vvitch :: three (fin)

She died this morning. 

It's raining, now, and the patter of raindrops on his umbrella combines with the somber music of the procession and nearly lures him to sleep.

She was beautiful, not in appearance but in wisdom. Every wrinkle that snaked down her face carried a sea of memories that he could not bare to baptize himself in, holy waters singing the flesh of the fingertips that intertwined with hers. She came into their home with desperation, sagging skin wrapped in dirtied rags, her eyes like marbles in the sun- 

for a woman so poor, he had never seen a richer personality.

Three weeks, for twenty one days he held her hand through the treatment, incense and prayer circles in order to season up an offering to the old gods. Tongue tied as he repeated the chants, he never believed them, never poured his faith into the words like the rest of them. 

She was, after all, a lost cause.

Stories of her youth when he was by her side, of forests and wonders, a child's imagination spilling from her lips. And yet, through all the pain, through every flinch and wince and groan as the sickness coursed through her body, she remained hopeful, repeating the prayers they cast upon her, asking the gods to be cured. And on the morning of the twenty second day, he played god, looked in her eyes and saw the hand of death reaching out towards him. 

She was not silent, not like her funeral is. 

He brushes his fingertips over the spot where she grabbed his wrist, poison coursing through her veins and eyes like fire. You'll burn for this. Blood droplet pooling at her lips, the devil coursing through her veins, born from the spot where she sipped the poison. He'd recoiled, her fingertips carving their memories into his wrist. And then, in all her forlorn glory, she'd dropped dead.

The flowers on her coffin are wilting when his brother chimes in. 

"You used the nightlock vial, yeah?" 

He casts a glance to his brother, nodding silently. 

"Good. Meet back here at midnight to get your hands dirty." 

He takes three steps before throwing another demand his way. 

"Oh, and wear something black."