It was long past midnight as Alec crunched through the snow, bundled up against the cold. Here he was man than not and the man got could just like anyone else. Most of the candles lining the path were low, but they still were lit. In the now empty cemetery, some where actually out. Alec pointed at them to his companion, a rather cold and miserable Phoenix. The two of them came alone, long after any one was still here.
"You see, as long as candles are still lit the dead can find their way here, if they want to. When you've finished speaking with someone, you blow the flame out so that the dead can return to the other side. Sometimes, if they don't want to come, you can't light the candle."
Phoenix nodded, looking all around. He'd never been to Alec's world before, for which Alec always felt a bit guilty about. After all, Phoenix had shown him his home. But he wasn't really him here and there was story waiting to be done in written, story he didn't wish to cross. He would have liked to have come when he actually wasn't in the city, when he actually wasn't his age. But, then he'd be younger, for he couldn't be in two places at once.
Here he was with Jono.
Which is why he'd come long after the others had left.
"And we're coming to see your mother?"
"Yes. I thought you'd like to meet her." He then gave a bit of a shrug. "I don't know if she'll come to see you though. But I wanted you to see a bit of my life that no one really does. I only share it with people important to me."
A bit of memory flashed as he remembered the last time he'd brought one of his outside lovers here. That relationship ended in a disaster. Hopefully this one wouldn't. Judging from his older self, it wouldn't. But reality was mutable.
Smiling, Phoenix said, "I'm glad you wanted to share this with me."
"It's important. Sometimes personal is the same as important."
The Troven plot was deep inside the cemetery, at the center really. The place reserved for the First Families. A single red obelisk marked the grave with platform at its base where years of melted wax had grown into a miniature valley landscape. One candle still burned, lighting a series of names. They didn't actually bury people, but cremate them sending their ashes into the winds. Here they built memorials for memory. Testaments to their lines, family trees. Their importance and immortality, Alec supposed.
Dipping his thumb in the wax, Alec then smeared it across a name, "Sela" before stepping back.
"Now we wait and see."