Work Text:
Everyone dies. Horizon is a settlement like any other, and people die there like they do elsewhere. They die, and a cart comes and carries them to Ul'dah, or the pilgrim church, or to the nearby graveyard or wherever suits that once living soul. It is a lonely thing, those small little carts and those solitary passengers.
Usually.
The sun rises to chocobos straining in traces, pulling closed wagons. The carts come from Vesper Bay, one after another. They enter to dust and silence. They leave behind heavy, rotting air.
Giselberdus keeps his head down as the carriages move by the aetheryte.
Everyone dies, after all.
But some die differently.