174 Fishman island: cross roads

"Help me a little m'kay" Laurel muttered to the mute Fawkes, taking no pleasure in his dumbfounded expression.

"It is time to bury her help me carry her out back" with that she slowly crossed the old women's hands over her chest. She looked more asleep then dead, the only thing that showed to her situation was the absence in the rise and fall of her chest.

The wrinkled skin looked pale and sick, nonetheless Fawkes could not find himself with even the slightest amount of any feeling apart from solemnity. With a deep sigh he followed Laurel carrying the old women in a princess carry.

The old folk in the hut cleared the way, those who could walk standing solemnly at the side. Those who could not walk merely bowed to the figure. The old man that had been the first to speak when the duo had entered the hut looked visibly upset.

"Farewell old women... Go pave the way for this generation." he muttered with a silent prayer before going back to silence in the corner.

There was no mourning, no rights, nothing. It seemed death was a common guest in this hut.

Behind the kitchen a door lead to the backyard, a vast and serene plantation with a few calming weed structures that covered the ground in an elegant spider web weave.

To the side was a collection of neatly cut reef on a broken cart. All of them blank and untouched save for the curved edges that had no doubt been filed to look as they did.

As far as the eye could see there were graves, all of them marked with at least a sentence referring to who was buried below them.

Fawkes shot a questioning look over to the silent fishwomen as they continued through the vast organized graves with green pathways leading them through the maze of vibrant grave stones.

She had tarried for a moment, to pick the stone at the very top of the pile. Cradling it with both hands she lead the way forward, expertly navigating through the silent yet somehow un-sombre location.

"This is the temple's grave, meant to house those that died from the temple's members. At the very back is the spot for those that died of old age, like ol' prankster here. After the temple lost most of its disciples and its mandate to teach karate, the huge hut that used to be the sanctum became the home of those that had only a little left to live.

They would enter the temple, bidding farewell to their families days in advance. Living amongst those from the same generation, waited upon by a 'tunist' that was the term associated with the oldest pupil of the temple.

The tunist will try to let them rectify all of their regrets so they may pass peacefully. In exchange, the tunist is allowed to leave the temple, with a token that most fits them.

For me it was the Lyre, ol' prankster was my teacher when I had just joined the temple. Now, most of those fossils know they are about to die, so they relieved me early. " She finished taking a deep breath at end of it before finally coming to a stop near a decently excavated mound, fresh dirt upturned at the side.

She gently placed the tombstone down next to the opening before gingerly taking the old women from Fawkes' arms. With a practiced patience she brought the body into the hole, lying her with a small sniffle.

Fawkes stood silent at the side. He did not know much of the process, and didn't much want to appear heartless to the only one he knew that could lead him back into the city. He had seen his fair share of deaths, having at one point even witnessed the death of his mother before he had to bury her alongside his grieving father.

With a sad smile, Laurel began to scoop handfuls of dirt and heaving it into the grave, her webbed fingers dragging across the small heap as she did so.

Within moments, the grave was closed, and the gravestone put in place.

Fawkes shot her a small comforting smile before following her back. The silence on the brief trek back was almost too deafening on the ears.

"What do you plan to do now?" he quietly asked.

"Leaving Fishman Island is a definite first. I don't want to be here any longer than I absolutely have to... After what happened to queen, Otohime the place seems to have gone to the docks. While most fishmen are fine, the more influential ones from Tiger's old crew have gotten viler.

Even those not as bad as Arlong are still quite rampant in their own rights. That brat Jinbei is the only one with even a semi-decent head on his shoulders and even he doesn't have much more influence than Arlong's lot.

I do not want to live in an island where the royal family has lost its core and its streets controlled by radical thugs.

I would rather take a chance on the outside world. I mean, it can't be as bad as they claim at least..." she said shooting a lopsided grin over to Fawkes.

Fawkes sighed. Maybe this was not the time, but he had to tell her before she became someone paraded around in a cage at Sabaody.

"You're wrong there... Humans no better than that Arlong's bunch roam around above quite openly and in large numbers." here he was assuming the fish's identity having never heard of him before. Nonetheless, he could guarantee that there was someone worse amongst the humans. I mean, you had the celestial dragons.

"I mean, you've heard of the world nobles. Pirates are often no better, you would be lucky if you were not sold to a slave auction in a week. It would be a testament to your strength too." he finished with a hopeless flourish.

She shot him a mirthless smile, her eyes telling him she knew all of that.

"Out of the frying pan into the fire then... There is too much stagnant here."

"Maybe I can give you another choice?"