.✦ ݁˖ some emmrook fun | inspired by this prompt
The man stood amidst the flowers. Well, a man who was once a man.
His bony hand rest against the smooth marbled headstone shrouded by weeping widowers. How fitting, he believed. They'd always been her favorite.
The thought made him smile. Internally, of course, since a skull had no muscles, no cheeks, no lips.
But she knew he tried. She always knew. She could tell by the way his veilfire flickered like a cat's tail when he was jealous of the attention she gave to the flowers over him; of the soft words of praise she gave to the seedlings in their greenhouse and the spirits that came to join them on their evening strolls.
Perhaps even now, Emmrich wondered, Rook knew he was envious of these weeping widowers. Standing as tall and as vibrant as they were, he knew their roots were strong as well.
Strong enough to wind their tendrils across her skin and caress her head with a crown of roots. To stand as sentinels, warding against curious eyes.
Yes. Emmrich Volkarin, Lich Lord of Nevarra's Grand Necropolis, renowned researcher for the Mourn Watch and revered member of the once-glorious Veilguard, envied these beautiful, immobile organisms for the simplest of reasons: living as they were, and as undead as he was, only the widowers were given the honor of lying beside his beloved. To touch her even in death.
Emmrich lifted his gaze to the vast depths of the Necropolis' canyons. Even they paled in comparison to the depths of his love for her.
"My darling..." he whispered, as if unworthy to say her name. As if the ache in his soul would return if he spoke loud enough into the Fade. "Meine Liebe."
He bent to her headstone and pressed a kiss to her name. Indeed, what a privilege it was to have lost someone truly worth mourning.