It was time.
Citrusella had been dressed in a beautiful dress—her Sunday best, what she had been planning on wearing on Easter, in fact. She wore a bracelet with a single watermelon seed affixed to it.
She had been gently placed into a casket made to resemble a slice of blueberry pie. The inside was lined with lavender fabric, and a few pastel pink pillows had been strategically placed around her torso to hide the injuries to her back (that part of the dress, upon being situated on her body, had dissolved away in the spot where the mesh was missing). Her skin had greyed slightly, not the lively peach-ish it once was. Her eyes were closed, and her face wore a peaceful expression, one that made her look as if she were in a better place.
The casket had been placed right where the funeral was supposed to be held. Early on in the funeral, it would be open, her body made visible for those who wanted to see her one last time. However, it would only be like this briefly, remaining closed for most of the event, since people would be in attendance that did not want to see the dead, wounded body. Near the end, just before she was taken to her grave, it might be opened again briefly for a final goodbye.
The mun looked up at the sky. Sunny, with a few cotton candy clouds looming on the horizon. She hoped they wouldn’t bring chocolate rain.
She sat on a chair as she waited for guests to arrive.
((Well, here’s the start of the funeral! If you make a new post during this, it’d be super cool if you tagged it with “citrus funeral” :P))