The Graveyard

[Vanitypirate]

Osgood put her hands on her hips.
"You're drinking too much, for one. That's bad for you. You need to be kinder to yourself. Have some water." The guard scolded, and took steps further to the end of the graveyard.

She stopped, and waited, watching him.
"I'll need to get going, but..." She motioned to the oak at the far side of the graveyard, "You should go check out under that tree. I think you'll like what you'll find!"

[Boo Ghostie]

Flynn let out a sigh, deciding to remain silent and idle for the time being. He contemplated her words, her sheer existence was too good to be true. But of course he could never find any solace with the words of a dead woman. After several minutes have passed, he pushed himself back onto his feet. Both hook and axe in hand as he cautiously began marching towards the withered oak. Finally deciding to place a smidgen of trust in her words.

[Vanitypirate]

As Flynn walked along, Osgood lingered behind. If he looked back over his shoulder, he might notice that Osgood was gone.
But there, further along beside the tree, was a mound of dirt with several planks of wood sticking out from it: a mass grave.

There was a shocking number of names etched messily onto the wood.

[Boo Ghostie]

Flynn stared blankly at the mass of etched names. Tilting his head in sheer confusion.

"Y'know I can't read right? What the 'ell is this sup-" He turned around only to see barren emptiness. He stared at the mound, taking a moment to realize its purpose. "Oh..."

The man could not bring himself to believe that this was her place of rest. Surely the Hamlet would have more respect for their stalwart defenders? Right? His illiteracy was the death of him, for he has no way of confirming this as her place of rest. Flynn swung his axe at the tree out of frustration, leaving a clear mark for himself to remember. Before marching off towards the Hamlet. In hopes of finding someone literate enough to confirm his woes.

[Shinzon]

All towns had a graveyard. It was a final resting place, both dreaded and respected. But the Hamlet of this Darkest Estate was unlike others: and Villiers felt sickened by the sight before him.
Mass graves. Shoddy plank of woods above mounds of dirt, names hastily scribbled onto it. This was no place for the living, and the dead did not receive a better treatment, it would seem. Each step he took towards those planks made him want to turn around and head back to the Tavern - but he couldn't. He simply had to know if his worst fears were true.

Thankfully, the names on the planks were foreign to him. Allowing himself to stand a little straighter, he awkwardly made the symbol of the cross with his hand, removing his helmet. He wasn't a believer, far from it: but he simply wanted to express a certain deal of respect to the dead, especially those who were buried in such a shockingly awful manner. He did not really care about strangers: but the sight of a mass grave was extremely sobering.

Walking around the Graveyard, he looked over the individual graves now, those who had an actual headstone (or something resembling that, which was probably good enough, considering the state of most people who died in this place) and were buried in a coffin. He even saw a couple of flowers here and there on some of them.
For each of these graves he checked, a small pang of relief surged inside of him. He won't be here, he told himself. He's tough. Probably just had a falling out with Cou-

And, just like that, his thoughts were interrupted, his mind going blank. "No", he croaked at the sight before him.
It was there, right in front of him. The grave wasn't especially a joke like some he had seen, but it was barely better. Clearly, someone had wanted to pick stone so that it would not rot away over time: but that stone wasn't the most pleasing to look at, forcing him to squint to even read what was written.
"Not you", he mumbled as he fell to his knees, his gauntlet-clad hand pressing against the headstone.

He remained like this for some time, his eyes closed and his head hanging low. It was true, then: Baignard was dead. A childhood friend, a companion in arms... a brother he never had.
Inevitably, sorrow started to mix with anger, as it happens to choleric folk. He opened his eyes and brought his hand to his heart, burning with rage.
"I'll find those who did it to you", he promised solemnly as he stood up. "I'm going to bash their fucking face in."
Resting his hand on the gravestone and giving it a long glance, he then turned around and put his helmet back on, heading out of the Graveyard.

[Boo Ghostie]

(Arriving from the Hamlet Streets)

It was routine at this point as Flynn began to march his way through the graveyard. With each passing visit he came less and less intoxicated. Taking heed in what the illusions words, whether she be real or imagined. The sobriety itself had made each journey all the more painful. However fulfilling the wish of the deceased was the only thing that kept him together at this point. There he approached the tree he had marked with a blow from his axehead. Staring out at the planks of wood that stuck out, still unable to decipher the names etched haphazardly on the pieces of refined lumber. Was the apparition that approached him before just his own delusions? Was there truth behind the significance of this mound?

Loss was never something Flynn could ever deal with. And if clinging to hallucinations was his only solace, then so be it. "Osgood...? You still there?"

[Vanitypirate]

"Of course I am." Said a voice from behind the tree.

It did not take long for it to become evident as to whose voice this was, as Osgood leaned out from behind the tree with her blue eyes and pleasant smile. She was dressed in her gleaming armor, this time around, though she wore no helmet. Instead, her mousey-brown hair was tied back into a low ponytail.

"I thought you'd never come back! It's good to see you!" She beamed.

[Boo Ghostie]

"Nngh- By the light..." Flynn nearly choked up at the sight. Almost sickened at himself for this communion. The spitting image of the one he loved stood before him. Still pristine and beautiful in his eyes. He pulled down his bandana and removed his helmet, wishing to see her with a clear view and fresh air. "Is it- Damnit Flynn... Ye' wanted this... Just fockin' talk..." The bounty hunter stepped forward, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier as he began to approach the woman before him.

"H-How have ye' been?" Flynn asked, trying and failing to maintain his composure. "Is it really you?

[Vanitypirate]

Osgood flared out her gloved fingers and examined them, as though to verify to herself that she was, in fact, herself.

"I don't see why I wouldn't be... me." The guard shrugged her armored shoulders as concern darkened her expression. Her hand flinched, as though to feel his forehead for his temperature but stopping herself short. Though it did not stop her from asking,

"How have you been?" She frowned and cocked her head, "You look... sorta feverish. Are you well?"

[Boo Ghostie]

"I've been shite ta' be honest. Nothin' good ta' come back to y'know? I've no sense of drive anymore after ye'..." Flynn tensed up at his own admission of his love's demise. He turned away, clutching at his head with emotional turmoil. "No no, ye' ain't here. You died, I saw you die!" It was at this point he began to pace back and forth, his breath now panicked and heavy. "Bloody hell this ain't right. This ain't fockin' right... God damnit Flynn, how can ya' be so dense!"

His head perked up as an idea came into his head, "Wait... There's got to be a way." Flynn muttered with desperation now breaching whatever moral foundation he had in the first place. "'Is place is fockin' weird n' full o' magic. There could be a way ta' bring ye' back! Jus'... Damnit Flynn the 'ell are ye' sayin'? She's right there just..." He stared back at Osgood, "I-I just want you back damnit..."

[Vanitypirate]

"I don't understand." Osgood, puzzled, scratched at her head. She made a few steps to follow as he set into his frenzied pacing. "I haven't gone anywhere; why would you bring me back?"

She hastily glanced about the graveyard, and then, spying a nearby tombstone, beckoned Flynn over,
"Come on, come sit down. You look like you're about to be sick."

[Boo Ghostie]

"No I mean, you're not here here. I watched as the life jus' left yer' bloody body. And now you're... You're in there." Flynn gestured to the mound, choking up with each word that the woman let out. "Oh god it's- By the Holy Flame this ain't right. This isn't you. You're not her." The man could barely stomach it at this point, finding himself all the more sickened by Osgood's appearance. The woman before her spoke just as sweet as she did. Looked as she did. But Flynn knew for a fact that it was not to be. And yet here she was. Beckoning him over to sit beside her once again.

Flynn gave into his own bitter temptations and followed suit. Sitting himself beside her, just staring down at the graveyard floor. He wanted to just sit there and hold her, bask in the moment with the woman he loved and never let go. But instead he couldn't bare to face. Trying to hold in his own painful sobbing. Knowing all too well that he would only be met with cold air and disappointment. "The hamlet just ain't the same without ya'. Y'know? When I first came 'ere I thought I'd just be lookin' out for Roland but instead I've met a wonderful lass that'd keep me sane dealin' with the horrors o' this place. N' 'ell... I didn't even get ta' fess up n' say it before ye' left." Flynn leaned down and pressed his hands against his face.

"There... There 'as to be a way... I could maybe go into 'em ruins n' find somethin'. Somethin' that'd bring you back. For you ta' be here again. If that bloody ancestor could raise the dead, so could I. Even if I can't fockin' read. Even if you're back fer' jus' a wee moment... Jus' so I could tell ye'... So I could tell ya'... Fockin' 'ell." He pressed palms once more, trying to hold back the tears as he grows more and more desperate for closure.

[Vanitypirate]

Osgood was unrepulsed by the rather blasphemous idea he put forward; instead, her expression was caught between concern and consideration. Bringing a gloved finger up to her lips, she gentle shushed him and spoke,
"Hush, hush, quiet-- don't let anyone hear you say that." She insisted quietly, "...I want to hear you in person, I do-- but I don't want to lose you, either. You have to be really careful about this."

She clasped her hands together, "Please, please don't go into the Ruins alone. Don't even go with just Roland. You'll need a full party."

[Boo Ghostie]

"I can't believe I am considering it... 'Ell I don't even think if ye' were 'ere sittin' by me in the flesh would want me ta'... But..." Flynn sighed as he eyed the mass grave that sat away from him. "I dunna'... 'Ell I've nothin' ta' remember ya' with. N' if yer' truly in that grave, then I'd at least wish ta' carry on yer' bloody memory. Don yer' helm. Carry a piece of ye' as a standard. Keep on the tradition o' me n' Roland's 'ome city." The man stood up, still conflicted about his desire to pursue the arts of necromancy. Just out of selfish gain, blinded by the pain of a lost lenore. His face now turned towards her.

"Osgood, if it's really you. Please, I want to know if you truly want me ta' go through with this. Ta' don yer' helm. N' ta' go through with my quest inta' the ruins wit' the vain hopes of raisin' ya' from the dead. Even if I am bastardizin' the laws of nature. Jus' fer' a wee moment together."

[Vanitypirate]

Osgood weaved her fingers together thoughtfully, but it did not take her much time to come up with an answer.
"It's not doing me any good anymore." She shrugged, yet remained pensive...

"I just want... you to be safe, and happy." She decided, "If my helmet would help, then I want you to have it-- and if you bring me back, I'd be able to... watch your back, too, and make sure nothing can sneak up on you. We'd make a good time, I think."