The first of them is Death, kind eyes and hobbled steps, murmuring soothings and prayers as sleep swirls around him. Bearing one edge upon a bony shoulder, ancient hands steadying the load, Death steps, and steps, the pain of a thousand choices ending with every fall of a silent foot.

Ox-shouldered War, with mud-caked boots and hollow eyes is next, every sight reflected in his gaze. Satellites wheel overhead and the cries of the damned echo in every footfall, a heavy tread groaning with steel and the clatter of a rifle on his back rattling against the coffin.

Soft, sweet Guile heads another column, with a lover's tongue and rapist's eyes. Ever lovely, her every whisper is an enticement, a thousand they'll never know's and it's all right's flowing like poison honey. Her hands never seem to quite touch the coffin, every weight borne by the body of another.

Lust sways with the weight, eyes roving across the pews and never quite coming once to rest. Every breath is a pleasured sigh, the wandering honesty in her gaze met by a hand beneath her robes. Always caressing, always roaming, always thirsting with ruby lips and slender fingers, always Lust.

Dragging behind is Pain, sharp hisses greeting every rocking weight of the coffin and red-rimmed eyes fluttering shut with his labors. Blood drips like sweat from his emaciated frame, the crack of bone echoing in the silence as a thousand tiny paper cuts align on his heart.

And Love herself climbs out, striding toward the bier to see her rest complete.