The Last Petals Of Our Lives
Leave The Petals Where They Fall
Roseluck always liked funerals.
She supposed it was morbid to be of that disposition, but really it was all depending on one’s perspective. Funerals to her, at least while on work, were a place she could get her job done without having too many distractions: a peaceful place to set up her flowers, pay some respects to whoever had fallen, and get paid. It was far easier than dealing with weddings, what with the bride going on endlessly about what was good or not. Funerals appealed to all three of her basic needs in her life. Of course, when it was a funeral of somepony she knew, things were a little different, but as she thought back on it, she still enjoyed funerals for the state of closure they brought to her. Certainly, she was sad at a passing, and regretful due to the things she had to let go, and the funerals themselves were always... a high point, she supposed.
Roseluck’s job as one of the three flower ponies in Ponyville not only required her to tend to the massive garden filled with various flowers that she, her fiance, and her sister-in-law grew. She also had to run the rose cart in Ponyville center, and, on occasions, head out to arrange flowers for various venues. This included weddings, parties, and funerals.
Sitting on the train to Canterlot, Roseluck stared out the window, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She watched as the landscape zoomed past her. It was all rocky and mountainous at this point; Canterlot was high on the mountain, and a good portion of the train ride had thus far been spent climbing it.
She had nearly dozed off when the conductor’s sharp voice awoke her. “Attention! We will be arriving at Canterlot Station in ten minutes! Please make sure you have all your belongings!”
Roseluck blinked and smiled to herself. The only thing she had brought with her was a small coin pouch hidden and tied up in her tail. The flowers for the funeral had been sent ahead of time, so all she had to do was show up at the funeral home and get to work.
Roseluck of course had been excited that news of their flower shop and flower-related businesses had reached Canterlot; it was a big step ahead for them. Roseluck’s only gripe about the trip was that, due to the fact that it was so far away and that somepony still needed to hold down shop back home, she had to go alone.
The train came to a gradual stop, and Roseluck looked out the window again. The cityscape of Canterlot greeted her—the station was the first and foremost thing she saw, and beyond that her eyes fell upon the architecture of the city behind it.
Roseluck stood up from her seat, and walked out into the aisle. A bickering couple was standing in line to get off before her. Grunting in annoyance, she craned her neck to see if they were the only ones before her.
They were.
Roseluck rolled her eyes, and cleared her throat. Both of the ponies turned their heads, and Roseluck gave them a bemused look, her eyebrow cocked. The stallion grinned sheepishly, and stepped backwards to let Roseluck pass. She trotted forward, turning to the stallion and smiled, a sort of thanks for his initiative over his partner.
“Did she just smile at you?” he heard the mare’s voice ring behind her, the high pitch scratching at her eardrums unpleasantly.
“Now, honey, we’ve been over this...”
The Farewell Manor was a large, yet simple building. Made of a grey marble, it was two stories high, and looked quite out of place with the rest of Canterlot. It was as though the architect here had simply desired to create a simple, functional building, and nothing more, which threw it into vivid contrast with the rest of the buildings surrounding it. Through this, the building seemed to be more imposing than had it been built with even the most striking of features and painted the most vivid of colors.
Roseluck walked through the doors, and into a small foyer. There was another door, closed, that she presumed lead to the main funeral hall. Standing next to the door was an older stallion, a neatly trimmed grey goatee perched around his lips, his fading silver mane brushed back. His coat, a dark grey, complemented his mane color to give him a very tired appearance; not the kind that you say in a pony who hadn’t slept for days, but the weathered, traveled kind ponies got from a long life full of experience. He wore a sharp suit, colored a black as inky as a starless night, with a simple lotus-white bowtie perched at the base of his neck.
“Ah, hello.” The stallion’s voice rumbled like a cart full of coal gliding down a smooth road. “I’m Final Farewell, and I would like to welcome you to Farewell Manor.”
“I’m Roseluck,” Roseluck said, walking forward and extending her hoof. Final Farewell took it and gave a small, curt nod. Roseluck put her hoof down, blushing slightly.
“Ah, so you’re the flower mare from Ponyville!” His expression had softened, and almost looked lighthearted. Roseluck cleared her throat, and nodded.
“Yes! Yes, that’s me,” Roseluck responded. “Hope I’m on time, and everything...”
Final Farewell nodded. “Yes, you’re as punctual as I could have hoped! Your flowers have already arrived, we took the cart into the little alcove just aside of the main funeral hall.” A hint of a warm smile twitched upon his lips. “They’re quite lovely. Your business wasn’t exaggerating when they promised them fresh and premium.”
Roseluck bowed her head, hiding another blush, this time a bashful one. “Well, we do try to keep to the best for our wares...”
Final nodded, and turned towards the doors before them. “Shall we? The wake is taking place in a few hours... we’ll want you to have ample time to get ready. We want the flowers to look as best as they can, after all.”
Roseluck found herself nodding once more. “Yes, let’s get to it. You, um, you said you placed the flower cart in an alcove off the main hall?”
“Yes, we had it carted there through the back,” Final Farewell confirmed. “Makes it much more convenient for you, I hope—you won’t have to walk back and forth outside and back so much.”
“Well, that’s thoughtful of you,” Roseluck said with a small laugh. The two of them pushed through the doors, and turned right down into a long, narrow corridor. Not a few paces later, they turned to the left, and were faced with huge, double doors.
“In through there is the sun chapel,” Final told Roseluck. “I’ll be around if you’ll need me for anything; the place isn’t too big, you should be able to find me close to the entrance.”
“Alright, thank you,” Roseluck responded almost automatically. Final trotted back from where they came, and Roseluck pushed herself against the doors that took her through to the chapel.
It was beautiful inside. Rows and rows of pews were lined up, made of a robust teak wood. The rug, a gold trimmed with a heady orange, lead right up to the raised platform where the casket was set. Large stained glass windows adorned the top of the arched ceiling, something she must have missed from looking outside. The walls must have been raised and covered the viewing from the outside.
The stained glass mural-window that hung above the lectern, platform, and casket was of a large sun, with a somewhat smaller Celestia in the corner raising it seemingly effortlessly. The sunlight streamed through the yellow, orange, and golden glass pieces, washing the whole, nearly empty chapel in a warm, enveloping glow.
A common misconception among the other races was that ponies worshiped both Celestia and Luna not only as their rulers but goddesses as well. The truth was ponies didn’t worship the Princesses, although they demanded the highest respect. Instead, the bodies that the Princesses had control over were the objects of worship. The sun brought life to the world and the moon brought light in the darkness. Because of this sun chapels and moon temples were built to worship the celestial bodies. The Princesses were demigods at best, or avatars of their will even. But as for their “creators of life” and “judges upon death,” they were not.
Roseluck looked over at the casket again, and saw an older mare standing beside it. She may have been looking in the casket, or she may have been looking next to it, and Roseluck opted to keep her head down, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was doing. She had a job to do, and engaging in contact and conversation was sure to daunt her from that.
Turning to her left, she saw, close to the opposite end of the chapel, the alcove in which Final Farewell had told her about. Trotting briskly over to it, she peeked inside, and smiled. There were two carts inside—a moderately sized one filled with lilies, and a much larger one stacked high with roses.
“Lilies first...” Roseluck muttered to herself. “Supposed to dress the corpse with lilies, I think.”
Roseluck took the harness that accompanied the cart, and hooked herself up. Her hooves glided over the familiar reins with ease, fastening the ropes and harnesses around her midsection. Usually, Daisy took care of the cart moving, but Roseluck had done it enough times to know how to work it properly.
Grunting, she turned the cart out of the alcove, and trotted briskly to the platform. The wheels clattered over the stone tiles on the floor loudly, and were soon muffled by the carpet. Pausing at the staircase that lead up to the platform, the mare furrowed her brow.
“Don’t see why they don’t have a ramp...” she grumbled to herself, beginning the annoying process of unharnessing herself from the cart. After she managed to unhook the last of the ropes, Roseluck leaned over the side of the cart, inspecting the flowers.
“Ooh, we outdid ourselves this time,” she said with a smile, inhaling the sweet aroma permeating the air around them. Too bad the mare this was for was dead. She’d have loved them. Gathering up a decent bushel in her forelegs, she rested them on her back, carefully balancing them. She ascended the stairs, and walked towards the coffin, where the mare she saw from earlier was looking down into it.
“Oh, hello,” she said, looking up. She was a grey mare, and her mane was ink black, near to the color of Final Farewell’s. Her face had a few wrinkles creasing it, and her eyes were puffy and red; her cheeks tearstained.
“Hello,” Roseluck responded in the most neutral tone she could muster. There was a sort of an awkward pause, and she tilted her head back slightly. “I’m, uh... doing the flowers for the funeral.”
“I see,” the older mare said. “They’re very lovely, my daughter always did like lilies.”
Roseluck bowed her head, nodding slightly. A sigh came from the mare next to her, and Roseluck glanced up at her.
“You never expect to outlive your children, you know?” She ran a hoof over the side of the coffin. “You’re older, and you always know that death’s coming there sometime or later; it pains you to see your own parents go, but that’s the way life is...” She gazed longingly inside the open casket. “It just seems so cruel.”
“Yeah...” Roseluck said, not really having anything helpful to add. She was used to the patrons being relatively quiet due to the mourning.
“She was such a charming mare, too.” The older mare was on a roll now. “She was a rambunctious little foal, could hardly get her to stay still. She mellowed with age though... so refined, even when she was a teenager. And her talent... oh, she could play the double bass like no other.”
Roseluck shifted slightly, and looked to the side. The mare seemed yet not content with what she had already spoken, and began to talk again. “Yes, we want a quiet little thing, despite how quite popular she was with the general populace... she never liked especially huge venues, except for her concert halls; always turning down party and regala and ball invites, such an introverted filly at heart...”
Roseluck nodded. Opening her mouth, a little low pitched noise escaped as she debated whether or not to ask what was on her mind. Taking the plunge, Roseluck looked up at the older mare.
“H-how did she...”
The mare across from her sighed. “Suffered a stroke on stage, the poor thing. The whole concert had to stop halfway, and she...” She paused, and blew on a tissue draped over one of her hooves. “Oh my dear, I’m sorry...”
“It’s quite alright,” Roseluck said easily. “I don’t blame you for feeling upset.”
The mare smiled sadly, and extended the hoof currently unladen by the tissue. “I am Symphony, by the way. And you are...?”
Roseluck froze. No, she can’t... this is exactly why she chooses and prefers funerals. They aren’t allowed to get to know this person. Knowing this one name is enough; too much even. Roseluck’s mind raced, knowing that she was standing in a critical hotbed for her own sanity at the moment.
“Just a flower pony, ma’am,” Roseluck said, dipping her head respectfully and denying the offer to shake hooves with Symphony. Symphony’s brow furrowed, but she made no advances further. “Now, let’s get these lilies around your daughter...”
“Yes, of course,” Symphony said, a slight hollow ring hiding in her voice. “I suppose I just want to make it look as though she’s floating in a sea of them... make it look exceptionally peaceful, yes?”
Roseluck nodded, walking over to the casket. The lilies balancing on her back bobbed slightly as she looked over the edge of the polished oak wood coffin.
She was a grey mare, eyes closed and her dark graphite grey mane swept over her forehead neatly. Her face was calm, and she wore an expression of absolute serenity. She was laying on her back, forelegs crossed on her chest, hooves lightly touching. She wore but a simple soft pink bowtie, a white collar hugging her neck and keeping it in place. She lay there, undisturbed, and could have been sleeping had the bed not been a sturdy wooden casket.
Roseluck sighed, and blinked hard. What was happening to her? This wasn’t sorrow, she knew that all-too well... this was something deeper, something that sunk in her chest like a heavy lead weight.
Swallowing hard, Roseluck ignored this, arching her back and extending one of her forelegs, catching the lilies as they rolled off her. Standing up on her hind legs, Roseluck held the bushel of lilies in her hooves, and once again peered over the edge of the coffin, back down at the corpse inside. Gently, she began to outline the exposed part of the body with single white lily after single white lily, until she had finally created a rough semicircle—a layed-down archway.
Roseluck took a few more of the lilies, and began to slide them under the deceased mare’s head and into her mane, gently poking the stems between the hairs, making sure not to ruin the careful way it was arranged. Once she had done that, she placed more and more lilies radiating out from around her head until it appeared as though it were resting on a pillow of the white flowers.
At this point, Roseluck had run out of the lilies she had taken from the cart, so she hopped back down to it again, gathering up another bushel. Returning to the casket, she began to arrange the flowers around her body in neat rows, and placing flowers stacked on them between the rows. She rushed back to the cart a few times, and after a good solid ten minutes, with a few tweaks to the lilies, she stepped back to admire her work.
Indeed, she had achieved what Symphony had asked for—it looked like her daughter was indeed being borne down a river of the white flowers. Their pleasant scent wafting up from it, yet not overpowering. Roseluck smiled at this, content with her work.
As she watched over the flowers and the still pony, the heavy feeling in her chest seemed to sink a bit lower, and suddenly, it was her in the coffin; not a dramatic, sudden-shift to her literally there in the coffin, but rather, she in her own coffin, one that did not exist yet, laid down peacefully. In Ponyville, bodies were not given any clothing, even something as modest as a bowtie was not included. Ponyville still held onto old traditions, one of them having the ponies being buried free of any clothing, jewelry, or possessions, simply letting them be them into the ground.
Roseluck envisioned herself there in a simple darkwood coffin, roses, daffodils, and a sunflower or two scattered around her body there with her. Rose petals, pink and red and yellow and white lay on her body gently, looking as though one simple gust of wind would snatch them from her. A single ray of sunlight filtered down from the treetops above her, landing on her face.
She blinked, and once again was standing right beside the pulpit and before the casket at Farewell Manner. Looking around, she saw that Symphony was at the far end of the chapel, where Roseluck had come in, chatting with Final Farewell.
“Oh dear, what was that all about?” Roseluck muttered to herself. “I must have zoned out...”
Looking around, she sighed. “Well, at least I’ve still got the roses to put up and around the entrances and pews...” As she trotted past the lily cart, she cast a disdainful look at the many lilies that still remained. “Damn it, Daisy, I told you we only should have ordered half that amount for this job...”
She reached the cart of roses, and looked about the little alcove, smiling as she saw just what she needed tucked into a corner. Heading over to it and pulling it out with a grunt, Roseluck dragged the ladder from the alcove room, and stationed it above the entrance just beside it.
“Might as well start here, it’s the closest...”
Trotting briskly back to the cart of roses, Roseluck mentally smacked herself as she saw, from the corner of her eye, the harness still attached to the lily cart over on the other side of the room. Galloping over to it, and grumbling to herself all the way, Roseluck once again felt that heavy pull in her chest; however, it now felt as though it had migrated to just above her stomach.
“I wonder how it’ll happen,” she mumbled to herself as she absently took the harness off of the cart. “What’s gonna take me out?”
She walked across the room again, harnesses and ropes on her back, nearing the cart of roses. “It could happen at any time, too... why is it that you never realize these things until you’re forced to?”
Hooking herself up to the cart, she dragged it over to the ladder, and started to gather roses in her hooves. “Well, I suppose it is a rather depressing thing to think about... I’d hardly want to do so constantly. Could be a sort of mental failsafe...”
She had unhooked herself, climbed the ladder, and was placing the roses on the little ledge that overlooked the entry to the chapel. There was no breeze in here, and the fans would not nearly be enough to knock whole roses from the ledge, so she felt reassured in not having brought string to tie the roses together and to the ledge. She lay them down, one after another, so they were all in a line.
“I hope it’s nothing too horrible for me... nothing like a stroke, like this poor mare had,” Roseluck continued to muse to herself, as she climbed down the ladder and dragged it back towards the alcove entrance. The only other place she’d be needing it for was the far side entrance where she herself had entered (and where Final Farewell and Symphony were still talking), and she had other things to attend to before getting to that.
Hooking herself back up to the cart, Roseluck felt the heaviness in her torso pull again, and she was launched into an all-out vision once more. Her coffin still took the center stage in the vision; but it was now further away, so that she could see it taking place outside. Chairs had been set up, which a modest gathering of ponies now occupied. Daisy and Lily were there, of course, and so was her father, all three of them beyond themselves with grief. Caramel sat off to the side with Thunderlane and Big Macintosh flanking him, hunched down in his seat. A simple sun pastor was standing at a lectern upon a podium next to her casket, and was speaking, although the words she could not quite make out.
“Ah, Roseluck!”
A voice snapped her out of her stupor, and she looked up at Final Farewell, who was giving her a warm look. “Y-yes?”
“Just wanting to commend you for you decent work thus far!” Final said, nodding his head. Roseluck looked back, and saw that the pews had all been decorated with roses in just the fashion she usually did. She assumed she must have gone on some sort of autopilot when she was in her daze.
“Oh, thank you,” Roseluck said, blushing. She looked around again, and saw Symphony standing over her daughter’s coffin once more, way on the other side of the room, on top of the platform.
“No, it is I who should be, and am, thanking you.” Final chuckled. “Looks like you’re just about finished here, too! All you’ve got left is to decorate these last doorframes up above us right now!”
Roseluck nodded, very slowly at this point. “Yes, yes... excuse me, for a moment though, there’s one last thing I must do before I get to that.”
Final Farewell bowed his head. “Please, feel free to do so.”
Roseluck plucked but one flower from the pew next to her, and held it in her mouth. She raced down the large carpet that lead directly up to the platform, galloping at a quick pace. As she ran, the heavy weight in her bobbed up and down, bouncing about in her insides, making her feel ever-so-slightly queasy.
A flash, and it was her in the coffin again, bear and naked save for the flower petals.
Flash! The sun pastor was speaking about her, doing grace to her corpse and speaking of things that she had done in her life, and hoping that her spirit would be one with the sun and moon and the heavenly celestial bodies.
Flash! She was dying... she didn’t know how, or what was doing it, or where it was happening, but somewhere, somehow, something had killed her and she was no longer alive.
Flash! Daisy and Lily were hugging, sobbing quietly into each other’s shoulders, as her casket was lowered into the ground behind them...
Flash! Once again, she was in the coffin, but this time, the associated loss and sorrow and heavy-hoofed fear that the other visions had bestowed upon her was not present... instead, it was as though there was a final sense of peace. A cool hum filling her entire body as she lay there, nestled between the flowers she so dearly loved and inside her simple, darkwood box, to become once more a part of the earth she has spent so much of her life attending to.
She was back on the platform, just feet away from the casket that held the corpse. Symphony was near it, yet not looking down into, instead staring off at one of the large stained-glass windows that the chapel had so much of. Roseluck still had the rose grasped firmly in her mouth, so firmly in fact that one of the thorns on the stem had dug into her lip, spilling that wet metallic taste upon her tongue. She ignored this, as she had dealt with rose thorn inflicted cuts with ease before, and walked straight up to the casket.
“I owe this to you...” Roseluck muttered around the flower stem in her mouth, stopped right before the wooden wall. She looked at the peaceful mare, and silently hoped to herself that she would be just as graceful looking when she had departed the mortal coil.
Gently, she reached a hoof in, cradling the mare’s cold cheek. A small smile graced her lips, leaning in and kissing the passed pony on her forehead. Lifting her head up, she took the rose from between her lips, and gently slid it in between the corpse’s hooves.
“Goodbye, Roseluck...” she murmured softly.
“Her name is Octavia, dear...” she heard Symphony say.
Roseluck said nothing to this, and turned away from the mare in the coffin, the weight in her chest finally lifted.
