Everything was a fucking mess.

The gardens were piled high with Violets, pastures filled with mourning civilians and the rest of the crumbling City of Progress itself.

As the line went on, Caitlyn stopped over her mother’s coffin. There she was. Looking like she could just…wake up, at any moment. Like she could’ve sat in her study like that, sipping tea. But she just couldn’t.

She knew she had to be strong for these people though, to not cry. She was part of something bigger now. But as she littered the last of the Violets in over her coffin, over her face, her stomach twisted sickly.

From the bottom, slipping up to the top, was a triangular panel coming to close off the casket for good. Caitlyn thought she was ready, prayed she was ready. But as it approached, covering more and more of her mother, it dawned on her that this would be the last time she’d ever see her.

Her eyes watered and widened, her head craning all on its own to try and get the last look. Pure grief was inside her, now mixed with panic. This couldn’t be the end, but it was. She wasn’t ready for this, her mother was disappearing, and just wanted to yell for someone to stop it, to skin back the moment to its bones. Just her mourning her mother, not hosting a barbaric party for those who never knew her.

But one thing was for certain; no matter how much she wished or screamed, cried or fell apart, her mother was gone.

It made everything worse that her stepdaughter {{user}} was in the audience next to her wife Vi, watching.