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fWhip was distracted. He knew it himself, and he knew Pix knew it. And in general Pix knew everything. But sue him! He had a good reason or whatever.
"So the signal goes from here, but it stops... Uh... Yeah, it stops..."
"fWhip," Pix interrupts with a sigh, and fWhip feels an anger he doesn't want to feel towards his friend. "We can reschedule the meeting, I'm here for a long time..."
“I don’t need indulgences or your pity.” fWhip answers sharply and immediately regrets it – there is no need to spoil a barely established relationship. Pix is known for being very difficult to change his mind.
“I didn’t talk about one or the other,” and that’s probably why the kind calmness in his voice offends even more. "If one of us is... distracted, it will take twice as long and won't be as productive."
“Stop being so logical,” fWhip mutters, but the anger inside him calms down and holds on... at a reasonable level to manage. "I'm sorry," he doesn't feel much regret.
"You don't need to be. Bad days happen."
"It's not just..." fWhip shuts up, but then... Well, maybe Pix is the best one to speak with about it. "It's not just a terrible day... It's um... My mentor died." Saying it out loud for the first time turned out to be much more difficult than he thought.
"I'm sorry. It's a hard loss I'm familiar with." Pix patiently waited for fWhip to continue. fWhip isn't sure what to say.
"He lived a long life and died in his sleep, I shouldn't be sad about that. It shouldn't affect me that much."
"You can mourn a person close to your heart no matter how they died. It's you now who lives without them. You don't need to be alright." It's all words fWhip knows, he understands them, it just...
"No, yes, I know, it makes sense. I just..." Pix is silent for a moment, then he very carefully asks:
"You just... don't know… how?"
And yeah, isn't that the problem.
"Something like that. We don't really talk about death. Or... I don't know, maybe don't talk enough or as much as you do. In Pixandria, I mean."
"I don't think anywhere is talked about death as much as we do. Maybe in Mythland."
That still hurts.
"Want to try now?" asks Pix.
fWhip thinks about it. He really does, for a long second.
"Not really, no..."
"That's okay too."
Okay, thinking about it for more than one second...
"I just don't know where to start."
"Well, that's something I can work with." Pix's smile is nothing but supportive, and fWhip really missed that, he understands. "Let's start with how you see off the dead."
That's the hard part.
“We put a person in a coffin and then burn it.” fWhip is clearly not very comfortable.
(For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Pix allows the other person to decide when to end a conversation.)
"Some farewell speeches?"
"Sometimes I think... I haven't attended that many funerals actually... And if I did, I never said anything. I think it's too... fake."
"Hm," quietly says Pix, and for some moments they are silent. Only the sound of redstone machines surrounds them. "I don't think the speeches are fake. It's hard to lie to the dead."
fWhip only shrugs.
"Aren't there some... older traditions?"
“Yeah, I guess. Let me think," fWhip actually needs to use his brain for this one. "Um... Once upon a time it was customary for us to write poems to the dead... For kings these were long songs, several pages long. But the townspeople also wrote them. Some in a couple of lines, some in a paragraph. People dying alone wrote for themselves..."
"That's heavy."
"Yeah. And sad."
"And sad," agrees Pix. "Is it a dead tradition?"
"No, not dead. Just... not as popular anymore, I guess. Some graves still have this preserved. And now they are written sometimes. But only by very old people.”
"Would you like to try?" Pix sounds almost excited.
fWhip almost laughs.
"I just said I think it's fake." It's nice to not feel the poison in his own words for once. It's nice to be himself for once.
“Well, you don’t need to say them. You don’t even have to write them at all. Just… think of a couple of lines in your head.” Pix looks directly at fWhip. "Your ancestors did that to ease the pain. Not to make fun of the dead."
fWhip wasn't sure what to say.
"It's not necessary, but it might help." Pix clearly gives him a place to step back. fWhip even considered it for a moment.
"I will think about it," he decided. Something in his chest feels lighter.
Pix just smiles. And then asks something about the machine in front of him. fWhip doesn't really remember what exactly. Only that he happily switches to explaining.
When Pix disappears in the desert, fWhip doesn't write anything to him. Doesn't even think about it. Because Pix is alive. This stupid stubborn old man is alive.