This is a small excerpt from a bigger fic I've been working on for a while - winter, graves and customs. (Will I ever finish it? Hm.)
More quiet companionship than anything, but I thought it fit for Sheelloyd day, so here it is under the cut! :D
~~~
Lloyd huffed out the breath he'd been holding, watching it crystallise into tiny crystals in the winter air, drifting for a few seconds before finally disappearing. The last time he'd set foot in Mizuho had been months ago. It had still been summer, when the sweltering heat felt like a cloak wrapped too tightly around one's shoulders, sweat caked one's skin like a grimy layer that refused to lift, and mosquitoes trailed after any object that so much as breathed with the intention to suck them dry.
Something about Mizuho's secluded nature, tucked far off the beaten path within the woods, gave it an ethereal nature. It seemed, sometimes, like a village out of a story, frozen in time while its residents lived out their lives isolated from the rest of the world. But of course, it was real, and time continued to flow through it. When he'd landed his Rheaird this morning to make the final trek into Mizuho, the cold had shocked him into stillness for a few moments, his feet sinking into an endless blanket of white.
In the snow that came up to their ankles, Sheena crouched, pressing her palms to the cold like it didn't sting. Before her was a neat row of graves with Mizuhoan letters lining the stone, marking the names of the souls that had been lost in Volt's rampage all those years ago. A fine layer of white clung to them as well.
"Are you sure you want me to be here?" he whispered, unable to bear lifting his voice louder than a whisper. The dead were asleep, and he did not wish to disturb their slumber. But he was uncertain of his role here, whether he should even be standing where the villagers had reverently laid their departed to rest. He wasn't of Mizuho - even if he had started learning the culture from Sheena, it was still early days, and what he knew was scattered bits and pieces. He didn't live and breathe their customs, know them as well as he did the palm of his hand, and the memory of the vindictive anger that had once been targeted at their party gave him reason to pause.
"I asked you to be here," Sheena repeated what she had said this morning when she met him at the entrance to the village, when he'd expressed the same misgivings as he did now. She'd made the request more than a week ago, over a steaming cup of tea when they'd bumped into each other in Meltokio. A moment of respite she'd wished to steal for herself before her duties as ambassador would send her to the opposite corner of the rejoined worlds - a moment spent in the comfort only her home could provide, when she hoped to pay her respects. She'd invited others of their party to join her before, based on what he'd learned from the conversations he'd had with them when he'd run into them on his endless wanderings.
Slowly, he made his way to her side, taking the offered hand as he knelt next to her. Breathing another cloud of frost, he watched her pay her respects with practised movements, some of which he knew. The lighting of the joss sticks, before they were pressed carefully into the snow next to the graves. The cleaning of the aged stone, done with a wooden ladle and cold water from the stream. The placing of the offerings, the favourite snacks and treats that Sheena had painstakingly prepared the day before, the memories of how she'd learned to make them still seared into her mind. The burning of offerings, such that the smoke could deliver them.
Each action was a labour of love as much as it was an expression of grief. Even still, her hand shook sometimes, and she would pause to suck in a shaky breath. Years had dulled the guilt, but it would never smooth over its aching heart. He said nothing, only squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her skin - a soothing presence that he hoped could act as a balm, no matter how small.
And when she pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, he did the same, offering his whispered prayers. This was simple to do - a prayer for happiness, for a better life to await those who had gone ahead in their journey, was a common wish shared among all who still lived.
Opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around Sheena as they both rose to their feet, looking down at the graves. They no longer looked so lonely in the snow, surrounded by tokens of love. Sheena sighed, leaning closer to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Thanks for being here."