Oliver kept silent also as Blaize drove him home. There was a weird tension in the air, it made Oliver think back to the time before their left for Senosha, the dark storm cloud that hung over Blaize. Lingering a moment longer in the car, Oliver turned toward Blaize and gave him a small smile.

"I'll be there early. Thanks again for coming to the warehouse with and saving my life, again. Call if you need anything," Oliver added before exiting the car and getting his book and bag from the back seat. He paused to wave at Blaize from the street before heading into his apartment. Part of him wanted to protest and insist that he spend the night with Blaize, but it would most likely turn into an argument, one Oliver didn't want to have.

Key in hand and book propped up Oliver barely managed to open his apartment door without losing the awkwardly shaped book. Dropping it on the table near the door, Oliver sighed before heading into his room. He rooted around his closet for a second before finding a suit-bag. There came a time in one's life where have a designated suit was important, Oliver had acquired such his own 'funeral suit' a few years back when his grandfather past away.

The suit itself was simple in design and black, the tie matched and Oliver didn't bother to deal with cufflinks. Hanging the suit on the back of his bedroom door, Oliver returned to lay on the bed. Unsure if he was sleepy or just drained Oliver turned to his alarm clock and set it to give himself and extra 2 hours to get ready. For him, the coming funeral was less about who was being honored but who was dealing with the loss.

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Normally a funeral was simply held at the home of the deceased, or in a place of worship. It didn't normally start from the funeral home itself, which made it odd that Blaize explicitly told him to come there the next morning. But when Oliver arrived, it suddenly became clear what was going to happen.

A huge, magnificent hearse in beautiful iron and lacquered wood stood waiting for the coffin, four tall, muscular black stallions waiting patiently with large feather plumes decorating their heads. The driver was similarly immaculate, complete with top-hat and tails, and several black cars with tinted windows idled in a neat row. Inside the hearse, the rails that ran either side of where the coffin was going to be were smothered in elaborate floral tributes.
For as much as Dr. Elliot might have just wanted a quiet, dignified funeral, it wasn't him making the arrangements. It was his son, and though he was keeping the funeral otherwise small and intimate, he wasn't about to let his father's homecoming be one.

Blaize was inside, standing in a room just off to the side of the entrance. The attendants quickly guided Oliver to him, others going to meet the guests that were already arriving despite being early. Standing in front of a mirror, looking over his tie again, it was almost as though every ember that burned inside Blaize was snuffed out ...
His clothing didn't help. Dressed from head to toe in black, he even went so far as to have a black shirt as well as the suit and tie, the overall tone dimming his eyecolour from the vibrant blue it normally was to a darker, more storm-coloured version. Quite possibly simply a trick of the light, it was still rather noticeable.

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Prior to leaving his apartment, Oliver took one last look at himself in the bathroom mirror. His tie was adjusted more so out of nervous rather than being crooked. Checking the time Oliver headed out of his apartment, pulling his coat off a hanger before leaving.

The taxi driver was a kind polite man who attempted to strike conversation with Oliver, but he wasn't in the mood.

Arrival at the funeral home, Oliver was quickly rushed toward a standing room. Opening the door he paused. Blaize was handsome and under different circumstances other more devilish thoughts would have crossed his mind.

Oliver waited near the doorway for a moment before closing the gap between them and coming to stand before Blaize. Looking into Blaize's stormy eyes, Oliver itched to reach for him and pull him into a hug, offer him some sort of comfort but held back.

"Do you want a drink of water?" He asked after a few heartbeats of silence. He felt oddly useless just standing in front of the man he loved without an idea of how to help him.

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Blaize shook his head, not even looking at Oliver's face as he kept his gaze down. His breathing was deep and slow, trying to keep all his emotions under control; he was never great at keeping them contained, and he was finding out the hard way that sorrow was certainly not a feeling that he could tame in any reasonable way.

They were interrupted by a couple of men, also suited, but they had a small badge on their ties. Gentleman's Exploration Club, the one that his father used to belong to. As much as Blaize had viciously conflicted feelings about seeing it - after all, the Club wanted to go to Shenosha, and his father pushed the suggestion down but when himself - he had to allow the feeling to pass since his father would have wanted his friends at the Club to come along. The two men were around the same age as Dr. Elliot would have been, men of stature, explorers in their own right or gentlemen of upstanding character.
"You're alright, young Elliot" One of the men patted Blaize on the shoulder, giving him a look of understanding and solidarity. Blaize nodded, but didn't look at him.

"It's hard, we know. We've been here too. We will be here for you and Teddy, no matter what"

Blaize swallowed hard
"Thank you" His voice dry.
"Let's get him into his car, shall we"
"Yes" Blaize moved, going to get the casket of his father to load it into the hearse. Attendants ushered Oliver to a standing spot to allow the coffin to pass outside.

As his son, Blaize was to act as his father's chief pallbearer and it was a responsibility he was both protective of and loathed to have as well. None the less, he did his job as a dutiful son, carrying the coffin along with five other men on his shoulder out to the hearse...

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Oliver continued to feel defeated he wanted to help Blaize, but knew it wasn't going to be possible. His attention was drawn away from Blaize at the arrival of a few men. Oliver recognized the badges they all wore and felt like the odd man out.

Stepping back he avoided making any sort of contact Dr. Elliot's friends. He was clearly content with being in the background. Blaize seemed to accept their presence which made Oliver feel a little better. His focus was on Blaize's well being, any support given to Blaize was importnat to him.

Ushered to where he was meant to stand, Oliver watched as the casket was carried to the hearse. He waited as his heart ached for Blaize. He couldn't even imagine what he was going through, let alone what the rest of the day would hold for him.

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The doors closed on the back of the hearse. The other men made their way to the black cars, two sitting in the one that Oliver was assigned to, sitting in perfect suits upon the smooth black leather of the cars.

Blaize took his place in front of the hearse. Though it was a seemingly odd thing to do, he was going to do his escort of his father's body back to the Estate in his own way. Standing for a few seconds to get his emotions under control, inhaling and exhaling slowly, he started to walk along the long road to his home ...

The road back was devoid of any traffic. Any pedestrians that foresaw the horses and black cars stopped out of respect, pulling their hats down and bowing their heads in respect. Blaize cut a lonely figure as he walked ahead of the gently following stallions, his head held high but otherwise feeling as though he and the coffin were the only things in the world. The pace of the journey was dictated by his walking speed, but he refused to hurry it at all. His father had waited years to get home, he could savour the latter parts of the journey all he could ...

The double wrought iron gates of the Elliot Estate swung open, servants clad in black ushering the vehicles straight up the long driveway towards the front of the house.Blossom petals, loosened off their trees by the ripening of the seasons, floated to the ground on either side of the driveway, coating the hearse and stallions with a delicate sprinkle of pale pink and dusting the smooth white pebbles of the driveway with the same. Blaize hadn't said much to Oliver about the funeral; at times, he outright refused to discuss it. But it wasn't hard to notice that he had been doing a lot, sometimes leaving Oliver alone in the house in order to attend meetings or plan things with the staff.
Everyone seemed to know immediately what they where doing. When the hearse came to a stop, Blaize stopped his own walk and doubled back, opening the doors to the hearse just as the men from earlier exited their care and came to help carry the coffin.

Everyone was directed to a place that Oliver hadn't actually been taken to before; the back gardens. The seas of perfect green lawn, dotted with islands of trees, shrubbery or full flowers, were dotted with round stepping stones, one path was leading to where Blaize had decided his father's grave would be. Two gravediggers were already waiting, as well as a priest and a pair of ushers to direct attendees. Closer to the house were tables set for a buffet, but for now, Oliver was guided to walk with the other mourners following the coffin towards the open grave.

Blaize had chosen a secluded, sheltered spot underneath a beautiful, heavy weeping willow tree to be his father's final resting place. Safe from the sun or harsh rain, it was a tranquil place that he hoped would give the grave much-needed privacy. The headstone he commissioned was very large, ornate, surrounded by imagery of tropical flowers, books, a weeping angel on the corner with her face buried in her arms ...

[i]Here lies Dr. Theodore Elliot. Beloved father, Explorer, and Man of Courage and Honour[/i]

Blaize and the other bearers placed the coffin in the middle of the lowering straps, each man taking one with Blaize at the top right. The priest stood at the foot of the grave, a Bible in his hand.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a beloved father and dear friend, Dr. Theodore Elliot. We are here to return him to the earth, and we pray that he is shepherded into eternal life with God in Heaven.
He was a good man, a devout man, a man who spend his life travelling the furtherest reaches of the land and passing his learnings onto others. A man of high intelligence, sparkling wit, a man with deep morals and a beautiful soul. A man committed to his path in life, and to his son ..."

Blaize swallowed hard, his gaze downwards.

"We now commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust: in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life… Amen"
"Amen" A gentle echo in the crowd, the coffin slowly being lowered down gently by all six men. As soon as it reached the bottom, a few mourners tossed down white roses as a gravedigger handed Blaize a spade so that he had the honour of filling in the first amount of earth.
Blaize's hand was shaking, but he at least managed to do this, before turning and signalling to the attendees to go towards the buffet and the wake itself. The priest followed, offering comfort to a few that were crying.

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Oliver wasn't fully aware of what was going to happen, but he didn't bother to complain. If Blaize wanted to lead his father home then so be it. Oliver only wished Blaize would have let him bare this burden as well, but he was also realistic about the situation. This was Blaize's father, a man that Oliver only knew from writings and detailed stories from those who knew him. It wouldn't be right.

Taking his glasses off and on multiple times while riding in the car, Oliver kept cleaning them with the hem of his jacket, something to keep his mind occupied.

~

Even if he had been to the estate a few times, Oliver was still amazed at the sight. It was beyond beautiful and often left Oliver with a sense of amazement. Secretly he wished the walls could talk, imagine the stories they could tell. Stepping out of the car he waited until he was ushered toward the back gardens. In all the times he had been there Oliver only ever spent time inside the estate. He often wondered if there was a nice reading nook outside, but never bothered to ask.

Just like the estate, the gardens were just a beautiful. For a second he wanted to touch the flowers and anything in bloom. Oliver was a man of touch, he enjoyed the softness of flower petals but kept the urge in check. As he kept walking his attention was drawn to the willow tree. The area around it provided a sensation of peace, Oliver knew why Blaize picked this place.

Once everyone was in their proper places, the service started. Oliver felt emotion catch in his throat but he kept himself in check. The tears weren't for Dr. Elliot, but for his son, but no one needed to know that. During the Priest's words and mention of Dr. Elliot's son, Oliver eyes shifted to focus on Blaize. He looked pained and the urge to comfort him surged up again, this time Oliver had to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to remind him not to make a scene.

The final prayer began, Oliver listened but found the idea of prayer difficult. His parents went to Church on special holidays, but since Oliver's orientation was often the subject of disapproval by most religions, he didn't bother to hold their traditions. However, out of respect Oliver kept his head bowed and eyes closed. Remaining silent as the crowd uttered their own 'Amen'.

Oliver watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. He waited on the sidelines as those who had them tossed roses down into the grave. His eyes are focused on Blaize once more when he was given the spade and tossed in the first bit of earth. Oliver could see that he was shaking, did anyone else notice? Conflicted once more and feeling useless, Oliver waited until most of the crowd had headed toward the food before making his way toward Blaize.

Like before he kept his distance but looked at Blaize was enough love and concern it was clearly visible in his eyes.

"Do you want to eat or go inside? No one would say anything if you went inside without eating," Oliver wasn't able to understand how Blaize was feeling. Blaize's grief was unique. Oliver knew that when dealing with a loss, it was common not to want to eat or even be around his fellow mourners. Oliver would support and stand by him regardless of what he ended up doing.

"I'm here for you Blaize don't forget that," He muttered softly, on sure if he was allowed to hug Blaize or keep back out of respect for the current situation.

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Blaize shook his head, taking a straighter stance and raising his head high.

"I need to ... speak to everyone first ..." The soul was completely gone out of his voice, he'd really rather not do any of this, but he had his father's memory to honour, and he had to accept that a lot of other people missed him. None of them would miss him the same way that Blaize would, of course, but the difference was still a sore point ...

Moving graciously from person to person, Blaize accepted the condolences, he offered small smiles at the stories being told to him, it was all he could do as the next living relative to the deceased. Though everything started out under a cloud of mourning on the lovely sunny day, the atmosphere gradually lightened as it transitioned from outright mourning to more of a celebration of Dr. Elliot's amazing life. Jokes, laughter, shared fond memories ... Blaize had originally planned to give a speech within a church before bringing his body to the estate for a burial, but found he wouldn't be able to give a speech without his voice cracking. The more he had to consider other people being involved in the funeral, the more he wanted to speed it along and get his father buried and at peace rather than drag it out with formalities.

But, no matter which way he would have planned and executed it, Blaize would always be second-guessing his choices. His desire to give his father the best funeral had to be balanced with what his father would really want, and he was working on the fact he last saw his father when he was still a young boy.

Finally, the guests started to leave as the evening drew in, servants helping them along their way and calling taxis for all who needed them. Blaize, at some point, had disappeared into the mansion after saying goodbye to everyone, his normally outgoing nature completely switched off and replaced with the want to just avoid everyone who came to the funeral.

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Oliver frowned but let Blaize go without a complaint. He tried to remain supportive but didn't know anyone. Instead he lingered near the edge of the gathering, offering a smile to those that smile toward him first.

Oliver did keep an eye on Blaize but also was oddly aware of how much staring he was doing. He tried to distract himself by finding somewhere quiet to sit and watch the crowd.

As the ground started to drift away, Oliver sensed that everything was coming to an end. He got up from where he was just in time to see Blaize enter into the mansion.

Oliver toyed with the cup in his hand, new containing lukewarm coffee. It didn't take long for his worrying about Blaize to push him to heading to the estate. He wasn't sure where Blaize was in the estate but he was confident in being able to find him.

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Blaize wasn't hard to find. While most of the servants were out dealing with the guests, the interior of the house was oddly still and quiet in a way that was rather unnatural.

The first instinct would be to go to the library; it was the default place that Blaize usually headed to whenever he was in the house. However, the library was empty, and the curtains drawn. He wasn't in the dining room, nor was he in his bedroom.
That left only a few dozen rooms in this gigantic house he could possibly be ...

However, the sound of crackling wood soon gave away his position. It was a room that Oliver had only been in once, when he first came to the estate three years ago ... the living room.
At the time, it was a small sample of the treasures that the house had to offer. Maps and precious artwork lined the walls, trinkets of various travels were encased in small glass cubes to keep them protected should they need it, otherwise they guarded the sideboards and bookcases filled with various novels. Blaize was indeed there, seated on a large, red leather couch and surrounded by books, one open in his hand while the other curled under his chin. He had discarded the tie, the buttons on his shirt open at the top, and he never looked more defeated or weary.

Not books. Albums. He was surrounded by photo albums, filled with photographs of himself and his father ...

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Oliver paused at the threshold to the living room. In realized that in any other situation he wouldn't hesitate to join him on the couch. There was a near constant longing to be around Blaize that Oliver was unable to explain. He was afraid to utter the phrase soulmate without feeling like some trashy character in a romance novel.

He loosened his tie, but didn't bother to remove it. From where he stood it wasn't difficult for Oliver to guess what Blaize was holding. Oliver's own mother had her fair share of albums that filled so many boxes in the closest. He only looked through them a few times, once for a family lineage project in grade school and a second time when a family member passed away.

Oliver watched him only for a second longer before he took a step into the living room and walked toward Blaize. He paused for a moment before scooting a few of the albums so he could sit on the edge of the couch. He wanted to peer into the history of Blaize Elliot, but wasn't sure if it was 'okay'. Family albums came later in a 'normal' relationship but then again they didn't really have a normal relationship.

"Can I look too?" Oliver asked to break the silence.

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Blaize said nothing. He didn't give a visible indication that he'd even heard Oliver, though he did eventually sigh through his nose as he stared at the photographs within the album.

"... I'm a foreigner, technically" It was an odd start, one had to wonder what brought it up, "I was born in Shenosha, I know that now ... he ... must have have pulled strings to get my birth certificate. I've seen it a few times ... it just says 'Mother, Unknown. Birthplace, some hospital I've never even visited', he did that to make sure I had a nationality. Otherwise I'd really be Shenoshan, which has no government ..."

"... I'm rambling" He rubbed his face with the hand that was under his chin. The photograph he was staring at was a sepia-toned one, of Dr. Elliot holding a little bundle in his arms. He was facing the camera, angling the newborn so it could be seen, and that newborn was a sleeping Blaize ...

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Oliver was surprised at the sudden talk of being foreign. It never really occurred to him. There were obvious things like Blaize's complexion and his strange blue eyes, but Oliver didn't see him as exotic. Blaize's features were handsome, beautiful even. While he admired Blaize's physical feature it was the personality that made Oliver love him.

Hearing that way his birth seemed to bother him. Oliver had an itch to offer some kind of comfort, but held back. Affection between them was new and Oliver was selfish sometimes. He'd be offering to hug Blaize partly to comfort him and partly to comfort himself considering he felt useless.

Oliver didn't reply but let Blaize ramble on for a moment longer. A poor attempt at a comforting smile before his attention turned to the photograph of Dr. Elliot holding Blaize.

"You look almost peaceful, I doubt that lasted long," It was Oliver's poor attempt at playful teasing. His own personal experience with children were short bouts of time at family gatherings, nothing even remotely close to tending to a fresh newborn.

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"... That one was taken when he first got home. He got Foxworth to run and get a camera, he said 'this is my son and he needs a picture taken'. ... It's the first picture of me ..."

Blaize fell silent, his eyes starting to water without wanting to. Around him, the albums spoke a lot about how his father viewed him, something he had never actually noticed before. Every single one was full to bursting point of pictures of Blaize, tracking his growth from a tiny infant swaddled in fraying fabric from Shenosha, to a boistrous toddler always in at something, to an outgoing child ...

And then they stopped. They all stopped. After the final album, only half-full, there were no more pictures. There were pictures of Blaize at important moments, like his graduation, and there were photographs taken by friends who were wealthy enough to have cameras up to the task of keeping up with them.

This was the first photograph of them together. And on the page opposite it, was the last. Blaize sitting on his father's shoulder, both smiling for the camera, the same photograph that was copied and sitting in a frame on Dr. Elliot's desk at the University.

Seeing the two together brought home the enormity of what happened back to Blaize. It was one thing to deal with bones and personal belongings and forgotten writings, it was another to see the photographs. His memories became far more vivid, viciously lucid, as he remembered his father's voice, his aura, everything about him.

And now he was dead and buried in the garden, never to come back, never to see his son as an adult with the same taste for exploring. They would never, as he often boasted they would do, go on adventures together ...

Blaize buried his face in his hand, and wept bitterly ...

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Oliver thought back to his own family albums. He was pretty sure the first photo of him was of his mother holding him in her hospital bed, his father standing beside her cradling his head. A nurse was kind enough to take the picture for the new parents.

His own vague memories of family pictures, often had one parent or the other. Rarely 'family' pictures unless someone was there to take it for them. He realized how lucky he was that he had both a mother and a father. Oliver made a promise to call them and check in, thank them being doting parents.

Oliver didn't notice Blaize's eyes starting to water and even if he did Oliver wouldn't know what to do. Instead he looked toward the the two pictures. He smiled even if the memory wasn't his own. They both were smiling and seemed to be pretty happy. For a moment Oliver wished he could have known Dr. Elliot. He selfishly wondered if Dr. Elliot had been around if he and Blaize would have met. How different would their lives be?

Oliver was ripped from his thoughts as Blaize started to weep. Pushing aside earlier hesitations to show affection and comfort, Oliver did his best to wrap his arms around Blaize. He wanted to tell him everything would be okay, but even Oliver knew it wasn't that easy. Death was never easy and the way Dr. Elliot died and the way Blaize found him would only worsen the pain, make it last longer. Almost like terrible burn, unwilling to heal.

He wasn't sure what to say or even if there was anything to say. Words failed him.

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