A Funeral To Remember…
By: Druscilla White
Writing Prompt: Yes
Date: 3rd Nov 2021
I knew my death would affect the club, but to what extent, I didn’t know. Cela, though broken, had taken up my mantle and began to run the house. She planned everything. The casket. The colors. The flyers. The Priestess, my coven mate. The cemetery. Even the pallbearers.
Diesel had become silent. I didn’t want that for him, I’d give anything to have been a little faster, a little smarter… Even a little stronger; for him. To have walked away from Gotti’s attack instead of falling to the deep. I heard my pack cry, I heard their sorrow, hell, I could feel their grief. Even where I am.
But, looking further, I saw the lives I had touched, that I hadn’t known I had. Dane Preston. Austin and Todrick Ramsey. Michelle and Brandon Moore. My dear friend Vhodka. Even her husband, Vincent, shed a tear. And honestly, I had no idea that man had an emotion other than anger. Shame it took my death for him to show it. Even Lauren reacted to my passing. Granted, she was trying to be the bitch she thought she was, but the sentiment was appreciated.
Unable to hold my friends, to quell their sorrows, I thought to myself how death shaped us. Shaped us as humans. Shaped us as individuals. And shaped us as spirits. In my life, I had seen a lot of death; he and I had become almost like friends. From a young age, even till now. When I was 12 he took my twin sisters, Darcy and Darlene, turns out at the behest of a damned mobster out of Vegas. But when I was 16… the death that affected me the most, was losing Danny.
Losing him set in motion the things that tore away at my physical being. I lost everything. I lost my home. I lost my family. And for a while, I lost myself. I let our fathers hatred hurt me. I let our mothers’ apathy hurt me. I let things spin so far out of control, by the time I came to my senses, it was too late.
Gotti had me.
I still grieve for Danny. I probably always will. I don’t want that for my friends and loved ones.
I didn’t want that for Diesel.
I didn’t want that for Cela.
I didn’t want that for Vhodka.
But I especially didn’t want that for Robi.
I knew she was on that warpath. I knew she was hunting Roscoe.
Who wouldn’t? That man caused my death. I wanted him dead .
I wanted to hear him scream .
I wanted to see Roscoe bleeding, and hear him beg for mercy. On his knees. Sobbing like the bitch he is. I wanted revenge.
I wanted Roscoe to look me dead in the fucking eyes and tell me why he fucked me over!
And then, then I wanted to put a bullet through his fucking skull.
Robi was in a bloodlust I hadn’t seen her in… ever. She had gone radio silent. No one could find her. Rumors oozed up of sightings of her from Baton Rouge to Georgia to New York to even Bucharest. I was worried.
Mama was worried. This woman, a more stoic person I had never met, was fragile right now. I’m not sure Mama would survive another loss. Losing Robi might be the thing that sends her over the edge. Hell, it would have sent me over.
I’m not sure Robi knew exactly how much she meant to all of us. She was the paradigm we all bowed to. She was the Goddess on high. Now, none of us would dare buck her word and call her such things to her face, but, it’s how we all felt.
How do I know?
I’m dead. I know everything now. That’s how death goes, right? All of life’s unanswered questions become answered? Isn’t that the cliche?
I could see down into the depths of anyone’s heart. See their truths behind the veil of lies, or some shit. I could tell you things that would shock even the biggest nonbeliever.
But, I digress…
Cela was magnificent, given the current state of the charter. She handled everything masterfully; from DruBrew paperwork, to Krew Towers leasing agreements to even the Wolves’ dues. But what she had done with the funeral arrangements… It even made me weepy.
All while caring for Diesel’s catatonic ass, the twins, and herself. I’d find some way to let her know. Words would fail me, even if I were alive. Which obviously, I’m not.
I saw Mario. His grief. His disbelief. And it broke my heart. I couldn’t reach for him and hold him. I couldn’t tell him I was sorry. I couldn’t tell him that I loved him. And I did. Fucked up it took two bullets for me to even admit to myself that I loved that man.
As I wept, the streets of New York began to puddle; the rains came rolling in. Krew Tower was decked in the remembrance banner Cela had made. And the storm, as vicious and cruel as I could be, rocked the town.
The rains beat down the corruption of hate, if only for a moment.
From where I was, I could see how this death was changing things. Changing the people I loved. I made the mistake of not trusting my gut, and the price had been my life. But what I learned now was that it cost far more than that. It cost some of the humanity in those around me, as well. Robi had shifted gears, and I watched as she almost killed her opponents at the Project: Honor pay-per-view.
She walked in there drenched in my blood, cracked skulls and left absolutely soaked in the red hue. While she had defended her hard earned title, I worried that she might not be able to pull back from this. Had I lost the person who kept me so grounded?
When Gotti pulled that trigger the second time, had I truly lost the only family that really was mine? I was the reason Robi snapped. I was the reason Diesel had cracked.
That was how death could affect people.
Alter their personalities.
Death could cause such a shift in someone, that they are but a shell of their former selves.
I wanted that for no one, as I’ve said, but going for vengeance, it would change someone else’s life forever.
Poor Zion. She was losing her brother over a poor choice he’d made. She’d already lost me, but for Roscoe too, she would fall. I knew it would happen. But, as much as I loved her, I still wanted to see Roscoe fucking shredded.
Since my death, I had seen exactly when he’d made the decision. We were 17. Turns out my now deceased ex-employer had contacted him shortly after Priscilla was born and set him to task in keeping track of me. At all times. That answered exactly why Roscoe never married. Why he always seemed to pop up when I needed him. And why he tried so hard to bed me after he’d returned to my life. He was being paid!
And now? He was being protected. Gotti’s reach had been incredible. As soon as the fat man had fallen, a plan went into motion that swept Roscoe off the cruise ship and brought him to where they assumed I had no reach.
They were wrong.
Robi and I had informants in almost every country, and all we had to do was send a single howl. And the information flooded in. A damned deluge of locations, sightings, account numbers and safe houses. Robi would have no problem scouting the perfect place to lie in wait.
Neither would I… Assuming, I was still corporeal.
But, before anything could start, my funeral needed to happen. Cela had put so much effort into it, I’d hate for it to be wasted effort. Especially when it came to her music choices. Who didn’t love AC/DC? Highway to Hell was a classic, for sure. And she knew my macabre sense of humor.
How the fuck she found a black casket with bright red lips and vampire fangs painted on it was beyond me, but by the Gods, she found one. I won’t lie, it was glorious. Black velvet interior. Looked amazingly soft. But, I’m sure the six gentlemen carrying it didn’t think it was glorious. I’m sure it was heavy.
They all looked so dapper in their suits. Spit-shined shoes and well coiffed suits. But the affair was solemn. Each man wept. Their humanity was showing. I wanted so badly to embrace them. Diesel cried for me. Mario railed at the Gods for me. Memphis and Henry cursed Roscoe for me. Dane cried for me. And even Vin. Big, bad Vincent Black cried for me.
All of the Wolves showed up, each one somber and reverent. Except for Lyric, Ulf and Robi. I knew Robi was hunting, but Lyric and Ulf were just as sad, for not being there. But they had made a promise they fully intended to keep.
The New Orleans chapter of the Shieldmaidens came, honoring a fallen warrior.
Who came, was of no surprise, our bond ran deep. Angel. Queenie. Sangre and Taza. I loved these ladies, respect was a commodity we all cherished above anything else.
Mount Diablo’s Shieldmaidens followed suit, bowing their heads in respect for me.
Fenris. Loba. Moni. Snake. Even Draco and Gunnar came. Had I been alive, I’d have wrapped them in hugs that might have strangled them!
The London Maidens. Their eyes cast to the skies, seemingly watching me weep with them.
C.J. and Pestilence. Towers in their charter. I couldn’t believe they’d made the trip out here for this. Even in death, I was blessed with the love from these hooligans.
Even some of the Chrome Dragons came to pay their respects; which was rather honorable considering the recent divorce between the Wolves and the Dragons.
It was my coven that nearly broke my heart. They hung their heads, shrouded behind their cloaks; but I could hear their sobs. I could feel their pain. Their loss.
All of Fight showed up, well, most of Fight. Lauren, I’m sure, had her reasons for not being there. It wasn’t like we were best friends. VooDoo had her kids to think of, and I understood. I wasn’t close with every single member. But those I was close to, they were there. Toddy and Austin, both embracing one another, weeping. My poor, darling Toddy! I am so very sorry! Austin, Gods I wanted him to know I would always be here for him! That I was proud of him! I saw the changes in him, and I saw how he was trying to be good for Toddy. Did he know how much I cared? They were all there, showing their respects at my grave. Though, I’m sure some just wanted to make sure I was in the damn casket.
Who was I? Princess Diana? No. I was Dru White; Prophet of the Wolves of Odinn. I can see where a mistake might happen. I was a royal pain in anyone’s ass, when I was alive.
Gods be good, this to-do was fancy! Cela should be proud of herself. This was amazing!
The divers Tara had sent never found my body. They dubbed the loss as “swept down to the depths.” and I was ok with that. What could I have done? Popped up a zombie, like Miss Boleyn and demanded they keep looking?
Vhodka was decked in her finest, a skin-tight black bodice met with bondage pants and a black spliced trench coat. Though she pulled it off, it was an amazing outfit that I expected her to wear more often. Especially with those damned boots of hers. My dear friend, how I wanted so badly to tell you I’m ok. My heart broke as she sobbed. Her parents sat beside her, one trying to figure out what the casket was made of and the other eyeballing the squirrels around the cemetery.
Classy as ever. Gods, I missed her.
Dane stood beside Diesel, carrying the casket. The BattleBorn one. So strong. So violent. But today, he was silent. Shedding tears for my loss. Crying with my brother. How was I supposed to feel here? I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to cry with them. Tell them I was fine. I wanted to be with them, and never let them feel this hurt ever again. With everything Dane had been through this past year, he still managed to be here for me. That was a friend. He was, in fact, a very close friend. One whom I cared for dearly. I had always been in Dane’s corner. I had always cheered for him and his wife. Death couldn’t stop me from still being in their corners.
Henry and Memphis stood side by side, both looking all but broken. Henry, from losing me and Memphis from not knowing where Robi was. He was scared. He was worried. He was sad. They both showed up for me, despite both wanting to curl in the shadows. Fuck, this was hard!
I loved these men. So dearly. This was absolute murder.
Too soon? Oops..
Mario and Vin were last, not in my heart, but in placement. Mario’s eyes were bloodshot. His voice was hoarse. This was killing me! Not being able to alter this feeling. Turn this sobriety into a party! But, my reach ended with death. Vincent looked to his wife, both of them sniffling and attempting to keep their composure.
But all of that changed once Mama stood up. As my coffin was placed on the rack, each man saying their goodbye, my Mama threw herself over it. Sobbing brutally. Wailing. Making even me shiver and cry. Henry touched her arm, slowly wrapping her in the embrace I wished I could have. As he finally managed to console her enough to release my coffin from her grasp, they sat down. Vhodka’s parents behind them, leaned forward to touch their shoulders. My death, though tragic and sudden, managed to bridge friendships. I was thankful Henry and Mama weren’t alone.
They had the Wolves. They had my coven. They had all of FNYC. They had the Shieldmaidens. The Chrome Dragons. Even an entire trailer park, thanks to my beloved Vhodka Marie. I knew they were taken care of but that didn’t stop Mama from mourning. And she mourned so deeply, her sorrow bled through the massive group.
I wanted to tell her don’t cry. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to say so many things to so many of these people. So many things I had neglected to say when I was alive…
I love you.
I forgive you.
I’ll always be with you, Mom…
But my stubbornness got in the way. I let time slip away from me. I should have said those things. Not take life for granted.
Too late now…
A small woman, by pure chance, stepped too close to the taller female, Robi. Slipping a folded piece of paper into her hands. Just as swiftly as the blonde appeared, she was gone in a breath. Robi looked in the palm of her hand, and slowly she began to unfold the paper. Two words were scribbled in a very familiar script; “Loup Garou”. The sick smile that pulled at her lips was one that struck fear into the heart of even Batman!
The winds began to shift, again.