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Four years.
It had been four years since Romeo met Juliet Capulet, and here he was. Still alive, still much more well than he deserved. The girl who had been his wife was fading in his memory, and he wished some part of him didn't see that as a good thing.
He didn't often go to Mass in Japan, but if there were ever a reason for it, this anniversary would serve. The ancient words, the rhythm of it, the incense -- all of it comforted him.
On his way out, he lit two candles: one for Juliet, one for Mercutio.
He hoped somewhere, they had forgiven him.
[OOC: NFB due to distance. Open after he leaves the chapel for phone calls, the girlfriend, etc., if you're willing to deal with a Shakespearean in mourning.]
It had been four years since Romeo met Juliet Capulet, and here he was. Still alive, still much more well than he deserved. The girl who had been his wife was fading in his memory, and he wished some part of him didn't see that as a good thing.
He didn't often go to Mass in Japan, but if there were ever a reason for it, this anniversary would serve. The ancient words, the rhythm of it, the incense -- all of it comforted him.
On his way out, he lit two candles: one for Juliet, one for Mercutio.
He hoped somewhere, they had forgiven him.
[OOC: NFB due to distance. Open after he leaves the chapel for phone calls, the girlfriend, etc., if you're willing to deal with a Shakespearean in mourning.]
