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The ground was soft under Ranboo’s knees. There was still some dampness to it, remnants of the rain that had poured for days. A quietness had stayed after the rain, a gentle thing that wove itself kindly around the resting places in front of him. The graves around him sat peacefully, worn by time and the well-wishes of those who came to visit.
It was just Ranboo this time. Just him, in front of a patch of disturbed soil and a new grave. He liked this- sitting, surrounded by the peace of the dead. Call him morbid, but at least it's calmer than the cabins.
There was a sound behind him. A leaf crunching, or a twig. An accidental noise, but not one Ranboo was worried about.
A voice called out- “I’d think you were a child of Hades, if I didn’t know better.”
Ranboo didn’t stand up, but he turned his head to face the voice. Tubbo was leaning against a tree, technically outside of the graveyard without avoiding it completely.
“Not directly,” Ranboo said, turning back to face the grave. Nothing had changed with it, of course, the stone still gray and reading out the name of the recently un-dead Michael. “Grandads have to count for something, though.”
“Maybe when they’re literal death gods. Hardly anyone even knows mine!”
“Your mom’s well known enough, that has to count for something.” The frustrated groan from Tubbo made Ranboo smile wider. He was sure that if he turned around his friend would be waving a finger around, or digging a hole with his heels. Ranboo decided to dig his own grave deeper, “Oh, Iris, godde-”
“You shut it,” Tubbo cut him off, “Or I'll make you pay 5 drachma per call.”
That had Ranboo gasping, feigning offense by putting a hand to hit heart and looking at Tubbo with wide eyes. “You would do that to your friend? Your brother in delivery?”
For the record, Ranboo was right. Tubbo was indeed waving his finger at Ranboo’s words. “Melinoe is a harbinger of madness- her and Iris have very different ideas of delivery.”
“There are offerings for the dead sometimes! She delivers those! Or- or I do, sometimes, but… that's not really,” Ranboo trailed off, the play-fight forgotten as he remembered a different development entirely. “He- someone tried to give him a gift. In the uh, the underworld, I mean.”
Tubbo stopped waving his finger around, straightening his shoulders and making an “Oh,” motion with his mouth. His eyes trailed toward the grave in front of Ranboo, tracing the swirls or design more than the name itself. He didn’t say anything about Michael’s gifts- there wasn’t anything they could say or plan that would lead to anything- but he kept the topic as it was.
“He was missing you.” Tubbo said. “Crying, the whole nine yards.”
Ranboo felt his shoulders stiffen, and he stood hastily. “Is everything ok? I thought he’d be fine while Tommy babysat him-” Tubbo made a noise of disbelief, crossing his arms- “But I can head back now if he needs me.”
Tubbo shrugged, and Ranboo was completely out of the graveyard by the time his friend spoke again. “It's a good idea either way, dinner is going to be soon.”
Ranboo bumped his shoulder against Tubbo’s, both of them turning to the trees as they started their walk back to camp. The calmness of the graveyard faded beyond them, but Ranboo knew he had other things to look forward to.
“Is this your elaborate way of sneaking into the Melinoe cabin table again?” Ranboo asked, smiling down at his friend.
Tubbo grinned, “You’ll never get a confession out of me.”