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#cimeterium
cemeterystories · 1 year
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President Le Royer by DELAVILLE Via Flickr: 1816 - 1897 Paris - Cimetière du Père Lachaise
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piltover-sharpshooter · 2 months
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Cimeterium (Drabble)
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Caitlyn was standing in front of Grayson's tomb. She hadn't been here in a while, and she didn't even know why she had come here in the first place. Perhaps that last debacle with Jinx had hit her harder than she thought, and as she admired the craftsmanship of her mentor's statue and the dedication to which it was maintained, she reached a conclusion that she had reached every time she had set foot in the graveyard.
She hated this place.
It was something she felt ever since she was a kid, she never got the purpose of Graveyards. She'd seen many as she grew up, Ionian graveyards with incense left on each tombstone, Demacian Catacombs filled with long dead heroes, Shuriman burial sites where only a few rocks would denote a body laid to rest...she hated each and every one. People didn't come here for the dead, they came here for themselves, to feel better (or worse), and stare at an empty space imagining the people who are dead to be listening. She had seen what happened to those poor souls that didn't pass on, and that was a fate much worse than death, so for her those who were dead, truly dead, were no longer there to listen.
A few feet away from where she was standing, past all the graves of former sheriffs, you'd find where a lot of the Enforcers and Wardens were laid to rest, good men and women (she hoped) who laid their lives for a good cause. During the time she was sheriff, she had to be there for each one, give speeches to their valor, console grieving people, and more than once get struck by angry family members. Each time she did this without doubt until she was no longer in charge.
And if you were to keep walking to the west, you'd find the Kiramman section of the graveyard, lavished in marble and purple, where many of 'the great Kiramman of old' were buried in highly decorated Mausoleums, as if you were to be entering a long forgotten city. As the heir, she had to attend each and every one of the extended family funerals, even if it was someone she didn't know or (frankly) cared for. This too, she did with no complains, and until her passing she'd have to.
Her passing...
She imagined first what her funeral would be like. Despite her instructions that she didn't want one (She didn't even want a grave with her name) , the city would suddenly recognize all she did and her family would put on a big show of it. People would say how great she truly was, the sacrifices she made, enemies would pretend to have respected her, and she'd get a statue just like Grayson's, most likely a better one. They might even name a park after her. People will debate for decades to come whether or not her death was just, whether if her crusade was just, and history would decide if she was hero or villain.
At that last thought she had to laugh.
"When the bullet enters my skull" She thought. "Why will it matter why? Why will anything?"
Then she imagined her death. Much like her mentor she'd be find in an alley, or the middle of the street, or the park they'd later name after her or wherever and her passing would not have been pretty. Decades of work deemed worthless in a split second decision as a mistake costs her everything, and she finally dies, like a dog put down after it's grown too old and too blind to be useful. She tried to think who'd be the one to end her, Jinx, Mundo, Warwick? Perhaps an outside threat. But no, grand final bouts like that only happened in melodramas, some random person will get lucky or reckless enough and end her. Much like Grayson
She'd not die for her city. People don't die for anything.
People just die.
A sigh escaped her mouth. Again she asked why she had come here? Perhaps she hoped this time would be different...it would be nice to be like father and come to places like this, talk to friends and family of old, finding...peace. But Caitlyn wasn't built for peace, and places like this were not built for her....still....
Closing her eyes she imagined that it was true, and sitting down in front of the cold stone with the visage of her mentor she began to talk, of herself, her achivements, how good of a person Grayson was, what an inspiration she was. Today, she'd try and do this with all the dead she knew here, even if it took her all day.
She hoped she was wrong and they were listening.
The hope would have to be enough.
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ravayna · 7 years
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"Cimeterium Lutum" "Pigmentum Phantasia Potio" (Graveyard Dirt, Apothecary Fantasy Potion) a little fun doodle that I did for the fourth potion. 😊 #art #artist #artofinstagram #artoninstagram #Fantasy #fantasyart #fantasyartist #deviantart #tattoo #tattoos #tattoodesign #ink #tattooartist #tattoosofinstagram #tattoosoninstagram #sketch #sketchbook #graveyard #doodles #doodlesofinstagram #potion #bottle #latin #apothecary #coloredpencil
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