|Changed to the feature pic in honor of the real PIZUYA faving it on Pixiv|
What Dreams May Come, on a DayWhat Dreams May Come, on a Day of LoveWhat Dreams May Come, on a Day by Abridgenator
As far as Clare knew, using a sword as a gravestone was common enough in the Southlands, but even there they only regarded them as that: gravestones. Gravestones for a nameless man, with nothing but his sword for him to be remembered for, and to be swiftly discarded from memory. And in the case of warriors like her, it was considered a cursed marker, something to make people steer clear from the horrible, ghoulish souls that would no doubt rise from the dead to suck on the flesh and blood of the living. They were monsters, even in death. And not a single person buried in this place would ever go to Heaven.
Clare had cried, for the first time since Pieta, when she heard those words.
The swords had not been touched in those seven years, but they somehow managed to catch the light of the moon along the edges, like silver crosses. They were filmed in a thin layer of dust, of course, but that was expected for a warrior's grave. Clare was the only one t