Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Liou]

The iron-colored Netwah Sea roared and splashed, like a wild beast thrashing in its bid to devour the beach. Drops of icy water charged through the air, torn from the waves by the howling wind. In the midst of this rough atmosphere, a tall cliff stood, defiantly ignoring the salt and water's attacks. A glittering, elaborately styled cliff of neon purple hair with orange stripes. Behind the cliff, long beaded tresses flapped in the wind like a cape.
"It's... STANDING!!!" A shrill voice echoed, cackling with mad delight.

Finally, he had developed the perfect hair gel. An almighty blend that would defend the human hair from anything nature could throw at it. He hadn't tested it in a volcano yet, but he was absolutely certain that it would hold.
He tugged his beautiful black and white jazz shoes out of the wet sand. He didn't mind. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of Hair. He marched back to his motorbike, lifting his knees high to shake off the sand with every step. He hopped onto the seat.
"Off we go, Jennifer!"
They sped back to town.

Leopold Endicott did not fully understand why, despite his spectacular talent for sculpting hair, the residents of Aifam Cove only ever asked him for the most basic, boring styles. He was happy to tend to their hair exactly as they wanted it, and the town was satisfied with his work, but he did wish that he could practice his art on another head than his own.

He drove past his salon and into Main Street, eyeing the disco lights fondly as he went. The little town was still sleepy around the end of the holidays and he didn't have many appointments, so there was no need to open early. His intern could deal with that, anyway. Leo's breakfast seemed like distant history, and a tottering pile of waffles was definitely not enough to fuel his groove for an entire morning. His funky stomach required cake. He slowed down to a stop near the teahouse. There, in front of the cake shop, was a crowd. An Aifam-Cove-sized crowd, but a crowd nevertheless. The winter holidays had apparently not been enough for the Aifam Covers, they needed another party.
"And they didn't invite me?" Leo squeaked indignantly.

He hopped off Jennifer's back with a pirouette and took off his neon green helmet, allowing his tottering construction of hair to spring back up on his head, intact, with an audible -pop-. He strutted over to the townsfolk, his purple leather tailcoat swishing behind him.
"Ladies, ladies, gentlemen, ladies! You can get this party started now, the MC is in the place!"

Leo did not recognise many faces, because he didn't get to see the Aifam Covers' faces that much. But the backs of their heads? Ha, he knew those better than the back of his... hand.
There were the lovely colors of Lili Parker and Dakota Allen - oh, the latter's poor locks might need a good combing.
Cheryl Lewis's do was neat enough to get a passing grade, but boring as usual. There had to be a way to spice it up.
The sandy-haired guy... it took Leo a long time to remember that one, but he did think that the boy had visited him once, long ago.
Dear Professor Bardsley - Leo squealed internally. He could dive into that hair and spend the rest of his life in it.
Poor Mrs Fitzgibbons' hair seemed tired. It could do with a nutritive shampoo.
What a curious mane - oh wait, that was a horse. Leo looked a little higher to see the splendid ginger locks of the young Devon lady. Ah, her mother was around too. What a precious color. He hoped that they were using the right shampoo to keep it bright and shiny.
Leo finally reached the center of the crowd, where the delightful Mr. Richem was at it again. Leo didn't really know what to make of that guy's antics, but he hoped that Travis would make their little town famous. Tut tut, his hair was all messed-up. He had been tossing it about carelessly, as usual.

Leo snapped his fingers and struck a pose, popping his hips. "Now stop the shufflin' and start the dancin'!"
Darling Sister Lucille was in the place too, how fortunate! You couldn't have a proper party without her. Woah, had a girl already collapsed?
"Uh oh, looks like someone had a bit too much fun! Get her back up and kickin', Sister Lu!"
Then he finally heard Travis's yelling.
"Oh snap!" he yelped, "Amy's dead? Where, what happened?"
Leo's head twisted around several times, making his hair-pile wobble dangerously, before his gaze fell on Enna. Not just Enna. Her hair. "Holy cowlicks! That's not Amy, it's Enna! I'd recognise those locks anywhere!"
His mouth fell open, then he pulled a bright pink handkerchief out of his breast pocket, biting his lip. "Now I'll never get to fix those split ends!" He burst into tears, dabbing daintily at his eyes. Despite the handkerchief, he soon had neat mascara streaks. "How could that happen, Sister Lu?" he shrieked between sobs.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

So toasty.

I began to grow hot inside the green blanket shelter I'd made out of my sepals. I could sleep just a little bit longer...

Miko was always nice to me and she understands me. She knows I'll wake up when I'm good and ready. The Moltara I will! But honestly, it was growing hot and cramped since my petals all came in.

But I had to do this right. There was no way I could say WHAM HELLO HERE I AM NICE TO MEET YOU without getting dressed first. It wouldn't be proper. And so I did: I dressed myself with utmost care, twisting this way, twisting that way, sharpening my wide thorns so they too would look intimidating and beautiful...at last I was finished, and hotter than a weed tossed into the fireplace.

And so I waited for the perfect moment. I wouldn't surprise her while she was watering and talking to my brothers and sisters, oooh no. I'd catch her by surprise and make her smile with my ravishing display. She'd only be able to look at me!

All was quiet. Nothing but distant voices that sounded far away and here all at once.

I popped out of my sepal blanket with a neat little poof! and streeeeeetched. By the lilies of the valley, it was good to get some fresh air!

It didn't seem like anyone there would notice me, so I decided to break a rule no flower should ever break. I'm gorgeous; what do I care?

"Good morning!" I called out cheerfully, tossing my bright red petals so that they bounced. I blinked and looked around the shop. My brothers and sisters didn't dare to reply, much less look at me. Bunch of lily-livers. "Unlike these shy suckers over here," I glared at them. "I think I could use a name....hmm...I've been thinking something that's soft and fierce. Like Barbra. Yes. And the first thing you're gonna say when you look at me is "What is it?"-- so I imagine, just like in the story you read to us, Manna should come after it, But Barbra Manna sounds so incomplete and unglamorous without another initial....I got it. T. It's like a thorn in itself! Now my name is perfectly balanced." I ruffled with glee and promptly introduced myself. "Good morning! I'm Barbra Manna T." I nodded, feeling fulfilled and so full of scent-song and happiness I just had to let it out any way I could. So I did--with scent and more words.

"Today's such a pleasant day to be born wouldn't you say?" I laughed, relishing the sound. I laughed again. "My sepals hurt, though, and I just can't reach them. Won't you gently massage them for me? I won't let these bad boys--" I held up my thorns. "--Hurt you."

Just then, a voice rang through the door.
“Hello, Miko. I suppose you're watching the news. Dreadful, isn't it? Anyway, I'm here on business, what would be proper to send to the poor girl who worked with Enna?”

I bristled, all eight of my thorns held high. "Who's this weed? And who's Enna? Is she another flower? Oho she'd better watch herself...." I brandished my thorns menacingly, ready to fight.

[Celestial]

More people gathered but none of them wanted to call the police. Typical bystander effect. If you wanted something done, you had to direct them yourself. But at the same time, Lucille felt very strange ordering people about. She was a woman of the 'Woo, they were supposed to be gentle and submissive. The fact that she was anything but was beside the point, she had a cover to maintain if she did not want suspicion to fall on her. At least the workers from the morgue were here. They were pretty familiar to Lucille, the nuns were sometimes called in to perform last rites and prayers for the bodies, so at least Enna was going to be taken care of.

She looked up as she heard a familiar voice. Cheryl. The reporter who got a little bit too close to her operation a while back. The smuggling ring was big news before the mafia hit down and Lucille often had reporters sniffing around, with Cheryl being the most persistent. But luckily, she always suspected the local business owners, especially Bea. Never so much as a glance at the convent and especially not as Sister Lucille. However, she avoided talking to reporter and kept praying over the body before the morgue people took it away.

Suddenly, she was rudely shoved aside by one of the residents of Aifam. Travis, his name was. A complete, prattling idiot of a man who started going on about "Amy" being a heavy drinker. Enna never touched the stuff. Lucille would know that pretty well. And certainly, he was not going to win any favours for pushing a nun over.

"Watch where you're stepping, idiot," she shouted at him, getting up and brushing snow off her habits. "That is no way to treat a bride of the Weewoo. You should be ashamed of yourself, young man!"

Despite her annoyance, when Leo showed up, Lucille could not help but smile. You could not be annoyed at that young man, with his boundless energy and love for fine booze which kept her pockets nicely lined. She turned to him and shrugged.

"I believe it was the mafia, Leo. Poor girl, to suffer such a fate" she made the sign of the triple-feather across herself, touching her left shoulder, head and right shoulder in turn before she turned to the morgue people. "Ifyou would be so kind as to take care of her mortal remains. Her soul is with the Weewoos now, the most we can do is give her a good funeral. One of the sisters will come by to give her a proper blessing."

She looked up as Bea mentioned her name and gave her a small nod. Whatever she had said, people had more important things to deal with than just little hints about Lucille's smuggling ring.

"Of course, Ms. Devon. I would be glad to listen to you concerning any spiritual matters you may...have..." she finally noticed the girl on the horse by Beatrix. Kylie, her daughter...Lucille had seen her around but only briefly. Bea had preffered to do all the alcohol deals by herself But Kylie, she had grown up well. More than well.

Lucille approached her with her best smile on, placing a hand on the mane of Kylie's horse.

"Hello there, I'm Sister Lucille Erata. Kylie, right? I'm a...friend of your mother's," she glanced down at the horse. "What's her name then? You ride her quite wonderfully," she gave Kylie a wink.

[TJ Wagner]

Miko jumped at the sound of the door opening and she turned quickly to use her body to hide the strange and wonderful plant. She could have sworn that plant had just spoken to her in a beautiful, lyrical voice, but she knew that couldn't be the case. In all of these years her plants had been her only friends and family but never had they spoken to her. Surely this was just her mind playing tricks on her again.

She managed a smile towards her visitor, but only stood there dumbly for a few moments. It had been so long since she actually had a customer that she had almost forgotten how to behave, but then she became aware of the question she had just been asked.

"That's, uh, a very thoughtful gesture sending her flowers, Anna," she said, carefully walking over to the counter. She was thankful that Anna's eyes followed her and didn't notice her new plant. Now that she thought about it, Miko was positive it hadn't spoken to her, but she didn't want to take a chance. "The most common flower for sympathy are the classics: pure white lilies, gladioli, snapdragons, or roses with accents of seeded eucalyptus." Talking about flowers was one of the few times Miko felt confident. "Of course, sometimes it's best to just send the type of flowers you think someone might prefer. Now, if you like I do have some beautiful lilies that would probably be very appropriate. Do you have a specific idea about an arrangement?"

[Diana]

Winston was starting to get annoyed. The NPCs were talking to each other, and not to him, which was not the proper order of things. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to converse, or even cared, but he needed some kind of sign that he’d advanced this quest so he could move on and get his breakfast. Did they not recognize the main character standing in their midst?

And by Tzeentch, they were acting like a bunch of little girls who’d just found out that the starting town gets blown up at the end of the prologue. One was praying (and not to any Elder God he’d ever heard of), and another was giving some kind of dramatic monologue. It was like they’d never seen a pk before.

“Seriously, dudes, what’s your problem?” He folded his arms. “Just give it a couple of minutes and she’ll respawn at the last checkpoint. The body should go away any second now. Sheesh. Amateurs.”

[icon]

I like my internal monologues the way I like my eggs: salty and hard-boiled.

Though I must say, I'm not actually that big on hard-boiled eggs. They've got that weird taste, the yolk is all thick while the whites are all weird and rubbery. There's this, whatsitcalled. Textural… something. Textural dissonance. Yeah. A bad hard-boiled egg tastes bland, like you’re trying to slog through a poorly-constructed metaphor. You can't make a breakfast out of bad prose.

I'll be honest with you, I’m really more of a fan of scrambled eggs.

...I think that may explain a lot of things.

"Alright, Coen," Ris began as the two of them headed back to Aifam. "Once we get back into town, we ought to investigate the murder scene and look for clues. Then we round up the usual suspects."

"Okay. Who are the usual suspects?"

Ris paused on this one. "They're... err... you know, when something big happens... when justice turns its blind eye... it's like, it's, they're the... hrm." She chewed on her gum for a moment, giving it a soft -pfhhhhh-ptak!- before turning around to face Coena. "They're, y'know, when something bad happens in town, the ones who people usually think are linked to what happened."

"Us."

"Yes. No! I mean, that was a one-time thing, okay? The Town Square needed to be renovated anyways, and we apologized to Sister Cecilia too. That doesn't count... Look, aside from us, who do you think could be a suspect?"

Coena's sundry hats and scarves bunched up in what could be called a face of concentration. "Probably maybe one of the two mafias. My dad mentioned them the other morning before he went off to business. He said, 'Coena, watch out for those mafias,' he did."

"Right! So the first thing we'll do is, we'll march into town and find the mafias, and kick down their doors, and ask if it was them who'd done it. Stands to reason." She gave a triumphant smak of her gum at this brilliantly efficient plan of action.

"And what if that doesn't work?"

Ris stopped again, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Then," she finally said, regathering her resolve, "that means it's going to be a real tough case. A three-stick problem, even."

She patted her trenchcoat pocket as they approached Stalberry Road. Let's hope things don't escalate too quickly. It's still a few days 'til I get any more gum money.

[Nova]

As Nathan stared at the body, more and more people started to show up. His sister, Lindsey, was safe. Oh thank Lord 'Woo! He was worried if her coworker was attacked, she could be too. Being the older twin - by two minutes, but that's beside the point - he had to protect his sister. It was always reassuring to see her smiling face every morning before work, and even getting a cake or two.

Sister Lucille started praying over the body, Jack showed up much to everyone's dismay, and of course, the thief: Travis Richem. He always came into the teahouse, order the most expensive teas, and leave without paying. Said that "some producer" will pay for it. No producer has shown up yet, and Travis is no longer welcome to purchase anything at the Starlight Teahouse.

As people discussed the life of Enna Tweff, and what to do out in the cold air, it didn't make any sense to not open the doors to his business and invite everyone in to the large tea house, and warm up by the fireplace. "Everybody," he announced to the group, just after realizing his words may be caught in Cheryl's news program. "come inside for some tea, warm up and we discuss things further, and we can reflect on Enna's life."

He always tried to remain positive, and hopefully by thinking of Enna and not the mafia in town could do his head some good.

"I'm sorry Linds," he said as they made their way into the teahouse. "I'll make you some Sirensong tea, your favorite."

[Jayeee]

Travis stood up shakily, grabbing hold of the various extras for support as he looked around them. Quite a crowd had formed – he guessed they all wanted to attempt to share some of his screen time. Camera hogs. Well it was no matter, they definitely didn't have his theatricality. Most of them were just standing there and staring at him. His star power was nothing to be messed with, so he wasn't too surprised. A couple did feel the need to interrupt his display of raw human emotion in front of poor, alcoholic Amy, though. Not just anybody could create such a performance, all he had to do was think of Travis Richem IN YOUR FACE being cancelled and removed off air and he just burst into tears of absolute depression. Not that that would ever happen, though. He was far too popular for such a disaster. What was this, Jersey Shore?! He could live-in-a-realistic-setting-with-real-people-and-interact-amidst-personal-drama-and-conflict better than anybody.

It was then that he saw it. A camera. A camera not pointed at him. That could only mean one thing – they were waiting for his appearance. While they were always careful not to purposely point a camera in his direction, the news station they'd created as part of the set was a perfect example of the way the show could become meta in itself. It was like that movie he watched once as part of a bid to make himself seem just like everybody else. Inception. At least, he thought that's what it was. It confused him and all he really got from it was that it was something about things inside of other things.

The news reporting extra seemed to be looking for somebody to talk to. No, not somebody. Him. This whole town moved based on him. After all, what use was there for anybody to interact or have any kind of conversation if he wasn't involved? It was simply a waste of time. He was the star – the only one for the camera, after all. That's why he was always surrounded by people, they needed him to even be seen. It was a tragic life being an extra – he assumed, he'd never actually been one - but it was all they had.

Pushing his way back through the crowd, Travis strode over to the reporter. “Tiffany, darling,” he called as he stepped up next to her, casually glancing at the camera that was pointed at them. “It looks like you could use some information.” Placing both hands onto her shoulders, he leaned forward, kissed both of her cheeks and then turned his back to her.

“Puh-lease. I couldn't think of a more catty person than Tiffany if I tried. She's in this for herself and nobody else. I'm just trying to live my life, but Tiffany just refuses to leave anybody alone. Last month, she even got her co-star fired because she was having an affair with him. And his wife? It was her show's producer.”

Travis paused to let that sink in and then eventually turned back around. “It's so great to see you, girlfriend. I couldn't help but notice you in this crowd, you are looking fantastic.”

Once again he moved his head to the side. “Talk about pretentious. Could she overuse that blusher any more?”

He put his arm leisurely around Tiffany's shoulder. “Is this about Amy?” He started to tear up. “It was... it was terrible. I don't know what's happening, Tiffany, but whatever it is, we should discuss it in detail over a drink, don't you think?”

It was perfect. It had been quite some time since his last love interest entered the scene, and nobody could produce the drama of an intense breakup better than him.

Travis stroked Tiffany's shoulder lightly. “Amy thought of me as a confidante after all, it would be a shame to let her secrets go unheard! Not to mention letting this chemistry we have slip away, right?” He winked at her – the plot was already forming in his mind. The audience would hate Tiffany for stealing his heart away from them, and then cheer as he threw a jug of white wine at her in a break-up fiasco. She'd be pushed into a pit of depression, unable to withhold her despair every time their eyes met in the street. It was reality at it's finest.

[Pixie]

Lili's patience was fading quickly. She was frustrated that little attention had been given to her call for the search. When the new reporter Cheryl Roxanne Louis arrived, it became even more of a scene. First, it was Travis Richem, who was shouting about Enna's demise, except he didn't see her as Enna but as an alcoholic named Amy. The irrationally of it all could have been excused with the tragedy of the circumstance, had he not followed with distasteful and offensive comments guaranteed to decrease the happiness of everyone around him, sobbing all the while. He was joined in his cruelty by an unfamiliar young boy, talking about looting Enna's body. Such behavior was far from necessary, respectful or charming. She briefly pondered how much kindness would it take to make them act nicer.

The police's poorly planned vacation made it an absolute awful time for criminal activity to be resolved, but it was necessary to find out who had left Enna dead and bleeding so that the rest of the town wouldn't meet their demise as well. There was a statistically proven increase in crime at the same time every year, yet the police either hadn't learned or didn't care. Those two unpleasant boys weren't of any help, but she had to influence some people to start up a search. Luckily, she saw one sane man called for order, calmness and a proper investigation. She shut the rest of the world out and skirted around the edge of the crowd, away from them, and towards Professor Bardsley.

"Excuse me." She chirped, glancing up at him "I agree with you, Mister. We need to find out who did this, and why. We should get together an investigation party promptly. It's terrible what happened to Miss Twaff, but we are helpless to save her now. We need to know how to prevent something like this from happening again. There is an approximately 30% chance the murderer will strike again. We need to stop it. You, me, and whoever joins us. No one should die alone in the snow..."

[Killix]

SPOILER: Click to show

[PFA]

Professor Bardsley was beginning to think that no one had heard him, especially considering that things only seemed to get crazier after he suggested calming down. It turned out at least one person had heard him, however, as a young woman with light blue pigtails approached him on the matter. She looked a little familiar; she might have been an accountant?

"Excuse me." She chirped, glancing up at him "I agree with you, Mister. We need to find out who did this, and why. We should get together an investigation party promptly. It's terrible what happened to Miss Twaff, but we are helpless to save her now. We need to know how to prevent something like this from happening again. There is an approximately 30% chance the murderer will strike again. We need to stop it. You, me, and whoever joins us. No one should die alone in the snow..."

"An investigation party? Hm, yes, that may be for the best," he agreed, pulling up the sleeve of his thick overcoat a bit to look at his watch. Normally he would be starting class at around this time, but this early in the month, school was still out for winter break. That said, it was a habit of his to keep an eye on the clock. "We should see if anyone else is interested, then spread out and search for evidence. If we hurry, we may be able to find a lead on who committed this crime."

In the back of his mind, though, he knew it must have been one of the mafias. After all, who else could it have been?

[Lizica]

That, she thought as she cradled her once-trusty camera in her arms, That was a fiasco.

Piper Boudreaux, bedecked and plastered from head to toe in pale damp sand, grumbled incoherently as she trudged away from the beach. Not many people were out in this direction at this hour. She passed the sand-boarder, Rilen, and gave a half-heartened "morning" that in all honesty sounded indistinguishable from her other grumpy, incoherent mumbling.

She made her way to the front door of her shop, Prints in the Sand, and half-heartedly happened to glance down Main Street. Piper hesitated for a moment. Some sort of vague crowd was gathered in front of the cake shop. Her tired mind briefly flitted over to thoughts of the distressing rumors that had been flying about. Graffiti, burglaries, rival mafias. Any mafia news was of course bad mafia news, but--Piper had room for only ONE arch-nemesis in her life. And that slot was taken.

Piper glanced down at her camera.

She had priorities.

Turning away from the cake shop crowd, Piper attempted to wipe off the sand, stamped off her boots, juggled her Thermos of coffee and the remains of her camera, and finally jammed her keys into the shop's door.

Inside, she flicked on the lights. Prints in the Sand was something of an excuse for a camera shop. It hosted a myriad of disposable cameras for the tourists, some postcards of Aifam Cove, a one-hour photo development lab, and a wide collection of Piper's own framed prints of Aifam Cove's landscapes and wildlife. In truth, these nature photos, now for sale, had once been the original reason for Piper's visit to Aifam Cove one summer, some half-dozen years ago. The local flora and fauna had not disappointed. Everywhere, everywhere there was another perfect photo-op. Everywhere, beautiful trails, gorgeous sunsets, thrilling sea birds. Everywhere, better nature photography than Piper had ever taken before. It had been exhilarating, that first summer in Aifam. She couldn't wait to return home and show her friends all the amazing shots she had taken over her vacation.

But then, her plans had been waylaid--by what the locals only called...Webster.

Piper shut the shop door behind her, rubbed some sand out of her eye, and plodded past her merchandise and her five displays. In addition to the cameras for sale, she kept five display cases mounted to the wall. In memoriam.

"Gosh, is that a camera in the case? What happened to it?" the tourists sometimes asked.

"That's Old Green," Piper would explain. "It was impaled when my close-up shot of Webster got too close."

"And this one?"

"That's Ahab. Crunched to dust when I erroneously thought I could rush Webster and take a selfie."

"And this?"

"That's Titania. Crushed when I built a sandcastle maze to trap Webster and the whole thing collapsed."

Webster was the biggest--THE BIGGEST--ghost crab Piper had ever seen. He was monstrous, as big as a shark. He was quicker than lightning. He was usually nocturnal, as stealthy as a ninja. And he vanished into the surroundings as blithely as a, well, as easily as a ghost. A ghost crab, incidentally.

But above all: Webster the giant ghost crab had never--repeat, NEVER--been fully photographed with a regular camera by anyone.

Webster was the nature photographer's ultimate prize. And Piper absolutely could not leave Aifam Cove without capturing a photograph of him in his natural habitat. So she extended her vacation. Eventually set up Prints in the Sand to sustain her. Continued her mad efforts to snapshot this crab behemoth. At every turn, the crab eluded her; at every glimpse, the photos became a blur; with every new scheme, the crab would thwart her. But Piper Boudreaux would capture Webster on film if it was the last thing she ever did.

This latest encounter with Webster had ended up with her latest camera, Snapping Turtle, being sliced in two by Webster's claws. Piper had tried to dig him out of his nocturnal burrow. Not her finest moment. It had taken her so long to find all of Snapping Turtle's pieces in the beach sand. And as she sorted through those pieces in the light of her shop now, Piper could tell that--as always--Webster had destroyed the memory card.

Curse that infernal crab! How Piper wished she could toss him into a pot of boiling water and fry him up with butter. But her rule of nature photography forbade it: Her subject must remain in its natural state, in its natural habitat. No, she had to catch Webster on his own terms. ...It was just infuriatingly unfortunate that Webster seemed to be shy, bashful--even friendly--with every single tourist and local...except Piper.

Piper washed her hands and prepared to memorialize Snapping Turtle. Then, remembering the crowd she had seen earlier on Main Street, she grumbled and resolved to find out if there was anything worth knowing before she returned to her crab-hunting plans. She retreated to her stash of cameras and opened a new box to replace (alas) Snapping Turtle. And, quickly setting it up, Piper Boudreaux slung the new camera and her trusty camera bag over her shoulder and set off through town. She was still covered in sand when she noticed some odd tracks in the snow. But they weren't crab tracks, so it was obviously negligible.

[Gelquie]

For a long time, Kylie could only stare at the corpse, and for a while, was nearly unaware of the crowd forming around the body. She tried time and again to tear her gaze away from the corpse. It wasn't like she hadn't seen death before; she had the unfortunate fate of watching one of her horses pass away due to illness. But she never liked it. And a human death...

Finally, someone familiar broke through her thoughts. "What’s happened?” Kylie's mother asked. Kylie couldn't get a word out before her mother saw the body and screamed.

Kylie leaned down carefully from her horse and gave her as good of a hug as she could do. Normally, she would also try to say some kind words; when her mother got upset, it could be hard to console her. But this time, Kylie couldn't even think of a word to say. She wasn't sure what could help in an extreme situation like this... Despite all her years with her. All she could do was gently take one of Bea's hands and have it stroke the horse. Doing that always helped her. She hoped it would provide feelings of comfort to her mother.

The hug and comforting pats turned out to be short-lived, for Bea caught the sight of... Oh no. It was Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. Kylie couldn't help but remember the time that the woman hounded their establishment, trying to to scoop out their ill-gotten alcohol. She remembered having to go out of her way to hide things at the last minute, leaving horses half cared-for, having to drop whatever she was doing... However, her reaction wasn't nearly as angry as Bea's. Whenever her mother was around... Well, she usually picked up the slack on the anger so much that Kylie had to flit between anger and damage control. The last thing she wanted was for the situation to go out of control. But she never knew how to handle this. So for the most part, she tried to ignore the reporter.

"Kylie, should we perhaps get out of here before this devolves into a riot?" Kylie's mother spoke. Kylie let out a nod. She hadn't realized how crowded things had become until that moment. Too many people... It was bad for the horse too, she knew it. But there were also people who were more qualified to take care of this. She wasn't paid to stare, and tune out the world. Kylie let out a nod.

"Maybe Sister Lucille would like to come with us? We have some business to discuss, and everything." The words came from her mother's mouth, but her face immediately turned to the face of the nun. Said nun began to follow, and it was only when she came closer that Kylie reminded herself that she had to move too. She tried to break out of her distraction and she snapped the reins slightly, and they began walking in the direction that Kylie's mother was travelling.

And then suddenly, the nun was right besides her, laying a soft, gentle hand on Prue as she walked. "Hello there, I'm Sister Lucille Erata. Kylie, right? I'm a... friend of your mother's."

"Ah, yes! I-I've seen you around... Lucille." Kylie replied with a smile. It wasn't often that someone remembered her name, even if they were doing business with her. She wasn't the one who often did the smuggling deals with Lucille, but Kylie couldn't help but watch from afar sometimes, or closer when she had to take the alcohol to hide. The air about Lucille, her commanding if sometimes foul-mouthed voice... Something about it had always intrigued her.

The nun glanced down at the horse. "What's her name then? You ride her quite wonderfully," the nun said before giving her a wink. Kylie felt her face burn.

"Th-thank you," Kylie said. "Her name is Prue. I've had her for most of my life. Actually, she was born on the ranch, and I've helped raise her since then, caring for her like the others, but also something more. So since then, we've had a bit of a... of a..."

Kylie found herself staring into Lucille's eyes, and suddenly found it odd how she was talking so freely after such a serious situation. A murder had occurred... The violence had escalated, to such the degree it had, and no one was sure what was happening... And yet, it suddenly seemed a lot smaller. With the talk of the horses, of course, but also with Lucille's commanding voice, the way she approached, her kind words...

Kylie smile turned sweet and she tilted her head to the side. "A connection."

[Draco]

Jack continues his way to the town hall. Walking in he walks up to the Mayors office. He stops in front of the door.

"If anyone is following, you can not enter. Allow me to go in first."

He opens the door as small as possible and slips inside, the door locks behind him.

---

Meanwhile, back on Main Street, several kids are starting to gather around and build snowmen.

---

Back at the office, whispering can be heard behind the door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know this would happen."

A coffee mug shatters against the door.

"Yes, I understand. I'll get right on it."

The door opens and Jack slips out.

"The Mayor is busy, but I was put in charge. It's time to get down to business."

[Diana]

"See? Look. The body's gone now. Told you so."

“There is an approximately thirty percent chance the murderer will strike again. We need to stop it. You, me, and whoever joins us. No one should die alone in the snow..."

Okay, so finally the quest-giver showed her face. About time. “You mean, like, stop the dudes that did this?” Winston scratched his head. “Man. Are you guys that against pking?” He snorted in disgust. “This map is full of carebears.”

He debated it. ‘Find the murderer’ was actually pretty standard quest fare. He really should have seen this one coming the second he’d found the townsfolk all riled up, clustered around a dead body. Man, he was off his game today. He needed that cake, and stat.

“Okay, so, like, what’s the reward for this one? Cause I know you need my help and all, but I’ve got a triple-chocolate turtle cake to obtain, and there’s this guy on Xbox Live that’s begging for a beating.”