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Post by Celestial on Apr 23, 2014 17:57:56 GMT -5
Lucille's heart twisted as Christopher begged her not to kill the mafiosos. Poor child...even after all this, even after dying, he was still so compassionate. And yet, they had no choice. The mafiosos were too dangerous alive and as much as she wanted to keep them alive, it was impossible. "I'm sorry, Christopher, but there is no other way. You don't have to take part in it, nobody is asking to but we will have to kill people. It's inevitable," she sighed and shook her head. "I wish there was something else we could do." She looked up suddenly as Rilen entered the room, fading out slightly before she saw that he was not an enemy. Lucille smiled and drifted over to Rilen. She did not know him well but like with most people around Aifam who she did not have business with, she saw him around. And he was not a mafioso, therefore he was a friend. Any allies were useful, especially now. So she was saddened when it turned out that he could not stay. "It's alright, it's your choice. I know that the decision to fight must be difficult," Lucille nodded and grinned widely. The church? Perfect. It wasn't like the church was not used to having weaponry already. "This will prove useful however. We need everything we can get anyway and while I regret you not being here, you look after your own safety," she made the sign of the triple feather across herself and smiled. "May the Lord' Woo watch over you in all your endeavours." As Rilen left, Lucille frowned as she saw a fluffy ghost horse. How odd. You'd think she'd have seen something like this before. Then again, it had been a crazy week. She looked up as somebody knocked on the door and her heart seemed to sink and soar at the same time. Kylie. For once, she found herself speechless. Last time she had left Kylie, the poor girl had barely wanted to speak to her. But now, she was here, and ready to help them. Brave, young, innocent Kylie, wanting to help them. She did not know what had happened to make Kylie change her mind and energise her after her death but whatever the heck it was, she was glad. She had missed Kylie. Lucille drifted forward, through Cheryl. She stopped. Of course, she was a ghost. She might not be able to hold Kylie again, hug her like she wanted to. [bleep] that, she thought. She could hold solid objects. What difference was there between hugging a person and holding something? Lucille drifted forward and slowly wrapped her arms around Kylie. She focused, closing her eyes and imagining herself solid, imagining Kylie in her arms, just like when she was alive. She pressed herself against Kylie, embracing her against her ghostly form. "I'm so glad to see you," Lucille murmured. ---- Pallada laughed loudly as she listened to Lilliana's weak, feeble protests. Oh goodness, it was almost funny if it was not so tragic. She had no idea, no answer, no reply. Of course, she was an inferior intellect. She could not possibly have a counterpoint to people like her and Bardsley, people who have studied and achieved greatness in their fields. She turned away as the girl left and smiled back at Bardsley. However, before she could reply, the loudmouth moron began speaking. Pallada growled. She was getting more and more sick of him by the minute. Perhaps if she killed him, the other mafia members would not object...although then there would be his ghost to take care of. She wished there were ways to get rid of people permanently, at least beyond erasing them from the records. That was an effective method but it did not work on living people. At least she could comfort herself in the fact that this moron could barely make any kind of records. "No, you are not required. There is nothing you could contribute to our work," she hissed at him and turned to Bardsley. Amusingly, he was blushing. Diana raised an eyebrow and then smiled widely. She had never been one for romance. She had considered all the people she had known beneath her, inane, foolish, unable to see the greater picture which mattered so much to her, or understand her moral code, which said that knowledge trumped over everything. Except for Bardsley. He was her equal and she enjoyed his company well enough. And certainly the dribbling idiot's gibberings did not annoy her as they should have. Perhaps something could come of this. "Let's go then, professor. Don't worry, he can always be killed if necessary. Public executions used to get rid of menaces like him in olden days, though they were a poor deterrent to crime in general," she smiled and took his arm, becoming slightly more solid as she did when she had to grasp an object. "Now, let's go. We have important things to do, like beginning compiling all we know." (This following murdershipping is brought to you by a collaboration between me and PFA.) It was not long before they arrived in the college. It was not bad, certainly. Pallada missed her own university but as far as colleges went, this one was nice. Out on the outskirts of the town too, perfect for watching over it. No wonder Bardsley had chosen it. It lacked any kind of historical pedigree, having been built in what looked like the ninteen-sixties at the earliest but nevertheless, she was not going to complain. Pallada trusted Bardsley to know what he wanted best, something she could do with few people. But he was informed enough and intelligent enough to be entrusted with such decisions. They headed through to his office but as soon as they entered the college but as soon as they entered, something seemed off to her. It was a neat office indeed, very similar to her old office minus all the mugs of coffee and cigarettes she used to have around (she used to smooke? It was hard to believe now, she had been a ghost for far too long) but there was more besides that. There were some papers lying about it but was not out of the ordinary, except...there was ghost essense. As clear as coffee splattered all over a valuable document by a careless undergraduate, it stood out. Pallada removed her arm from Bardsley and snarled. Mick. Mick had been here, for whatever reason. No doubt he was up to some cowardly scheme, possibly with that pony girlfriend of his, some way to undermine the good work that was done here as he had done in Wafflenet. She dashed back and forth, examining the ghost essense and confirming it was him. As she did, her snarl grew. It was sickening. Why did he have to stick his nose into everything. But if Mick was here...her snarl disappeared. Pallada loudly burst out laughing. Professor Bardsley, noticing her unusual behavior, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "...Is something wrong?" Pallada grinned at him. "One of my former...colleagues, shall we say, has been lurking around your office. The traitor in our mafia, Mick. For what reason I don't know but if Mick is here, I can kill him," her fingers bent as though she was imagining crushing Mick in her hand. "I can do what I should have done back in Wafflenet." "One of your former associates? How... curious," Professor Bardsley remarked, glancing at the papers on his desk thoughtfully. "I wonder what he was doing h—" He fell silent. Suddenly, frantically, he started searching through the papers on his desk. But as much as he looked, he couldn't find what he was looking for. They were gone. The notes were gone."No," he growled, his normally calm expression replaced by a frightening scowl. " No..." Pallada raised an eyebrow as Bardsley searched through his desk, watching him curiously. She could not help be fascinated at his anger. However, that did not last long. If Bardsley was angry and Mick was here...something was up. "Something wrong, Professor?" she asked and drifted over to him, still smiling, though it was the smile of a hound who smelled blood. "What did that traitor do?" "The revival potion," Bardsley explained. "Someone has taken the notes for the revival potion. I— I need those notes." "I see," Pallada drifted around him, though she stopped, seeing how panicked he seemed. Normally, she would have enjoyed panic but on him, it wasn't fun. She placed a ghostly hand on his shoulder. "Relax, professor. Nobody ever had great thoughts by panicking. Now, this is a hypothesis but I don't think it was Mick who took them. He was here but he would not know what he was looking at even if it was staring him in the face. Mick is a fool. So it could not have been him," she grinned. "Your student, on the other hand...could it have been her?" Professor Bardsley was silent at first, slowly calming down as he listened to Pallada's words. She was right; there was no use in panicking. This... this could still be salvaged. They could still track down the potion. And if all else failed, he still remembered most of the ingredients that went into it, so maybe they could make a new one... "...The door was locked. Miss Jackson couldn't have gotten in on her own," he said eventually, trying to think things through logically. "A ghost could have helped her, unlocking the door from the inside. This traitor of yours, perhaps...?" "Mick. Oh yes, he would help any bleeding heart cause he could find. He did not understand the futility of saving one life," Pallada nodded. "And his essense is all over your office. It's easy to figure out what happened. But it's alright. Your rule is complete, what is a few more rebels?" She drifted away from him, towards the door. "That said, I would relish a chance to get my hands on Mick. If he's meddled, well, it just gives my actions purpose instead of just for my own pleasure. Where could your student have gone?" "Well, I suspect she intends to visit her grandfather at some point. He also had a hand in the potion, after all," Bardsley told her. Then, with a sinister smile, he added, "Perhaps it would be best to pay the man a visit, hm?" Pallada burst out laughing again, catching his thoughts, "Oh yes, of course. All have loved ones they wish to protect...or can be used against them. I can have my satisfaction and you can have yours. It's perfect. So...as usual, care to lead the way? I do not yet know this town as well as I like," she returned his smile. "Mr. Jackson lives out of town," Bardsley pointed out. "I suppose that means we could take a little trip..." "Why not? You're free now, you should take advantage of the time you have before the duties of ruling begin piling up," a laugh escaped Pallada as she imagined their faces as they arrived. "And of course, if there is anything I can do, anything special...I am a ghost after all." "Of course, of course." Professor Bardsley smiled, reverting back to his usual demeanor. "Let's pay old Archibald a visit, shall we?" Lucille apologises to Christopher but tells him they have no choice. She is grateful for the weapons from Rilen before Kylie's arrival distracts her. They hug.
Pallada gets annoyed at Travis but doesn't mind the fact that he is 'shipping her and Bardsley. In fact, she encourages it since they are well-matched.
They head over to Prettyboy and go to Bardsley's office but as soon as she gets there, Pallada discovers's Mick was there. She goes from angry to happy in an instant. Bardsley has bigger concerns as he notices the notes for the potion are gone. Pallada calms him and suggests it was Mick, which Bardsley agrees with. Pallada replies that he would have done and asks where they could have gone. Bardsley suggests they pay her grandfather a visit, which Pallada is happy to do. They go off to visit Archibald. |
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Apr 23, 2014 18:55:22 GMT -5
These horses had names, Fluffle realized, wagging her tail. She neighed happily, trying to match each name to each face. Salieri was...downright huge. And terrifying. Some of the other horses, though, were happy to answer her questions. Prue blew her lips and stamped her front hooves several times, gesturing with her neck towards the town square and her owner...Kylie, was it? Fluffle gasped and dropped to her knees once Prue kindly gave her the whole story. "NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" It was Wafflenet all over again! And if it was Wafflenet again...the times she'd smelled checkered cloth and batter...that was no accident. Fluffle thanked the nice lady-horse and ignored Salieri's snort and bounded off even faster than before, forgetting that she was, in a way, carrying a child, not knowing where she was going...following the scent wherever possible. She ended up on a long stretch of road, with no one in sight but a lone car that seemed to be in quite a hurry. She sniffled, wondering what would happen to her beloved Mick if Diana tried to get him. She'd changed colors for pony's sake. Celestia knew what else she was capable of. Fluffle sniffled again. There was that scent again...Stronger. Nearby. She looked up. Next to the car was a flash of blue and...a blinking earpiece! Joy flooded through her hooves as she whinnied and flew straight to him--but wait where were the brakes on this thing--! *CRASH* Fluffle ended up tackling Mick and knocked him into her fur, and knocked Lynna clean out of it. "Wait I paid my rent!" she protested, flying in front of the car for a split second before the car passed through her entirely. The pony didn't quite hear her. Her tail wagged madly and she squeezed the ghost in her hooves, a happy warmth flooding her thick fur. She gave Mick a long, affectionate lick before realizing she was the one who'd knocked him over in the first place--any danger she thought he'd been put in was her fault, now. Fluffle released him at once. The car kept going. "I told you I already paid, let me back in there!" Lynna protested. She looked at Mick and no emotion registered on her face for several seconds, but at last she opened her mouth, her eyes trained on the earpiece. "Lucky you. Mom never let me had jewelry." ---------------------------------------------------
"Herbs can be quite delicious in soup. I don't know if you're a herb or not, but..."
"GET THE FERN AWAY FROM ME, LADY!" I swatted a leaf at her. "I will use these!" My thorns went up threateningly.
At last, Rilen was back! I waved in greeting and edged away from the woman. "I don't know if I have a lack of dignity big enough to ask for this but...please help!"
"Rilen, how'd it go?" Lora greeted.
Yeah, that's right, lady, be as nonchalant as possible as if you weren't about to commit the world's worst crime. Why would she want to pluck me? I'd done no harm!
"What are you doing beside that plant?"
I blushed. "Rilen, I....I'm not just "that plant" to you, am I?" I wilted a little bit. And here I thought I mattered to him.
"I was going to put some of her leaves in--"
I felt myself being scooped up and held close--WHOA, WAY CLOSE--to his chest...it seemed to have the most subtle of crevices just big enough for my head to fit...so I laid it there contentedly.
His voice seemed to be trembling with anger. "You don't harm this plant."
Whoa, Rilen had thorns of his own! I was impressed. They weren't as long as mine, but I'm sure it was enough to sting the woman who tried to hurt me.
"I love this plant." He paused. "Her name is Barbra."
Wait...stop...hold the foamflower--WHAT?!
Did he just declare...? In front of someone else at that...Oh, don't get me wrong, I knew I looked absolutely ravishing, but to hear someone else say that he loved me...Ohh I felt myself positively melting in his embrace! All this time...I knew there was something between us, from the moment when I first saw him and he complimented me, and even after Miko left us...dear Miko...he saved me from that weed who tried to eat me up!
"Rilen..." I swallowed. "I love you, too."
"She's a wondrous flower." Barb straight, I was.
Rilen argued with the woman for a few more seconds before asking me if I was okay. The smooth petals of his face, seamless, appeared genuinely concerned.
I lost my blue hue immediately and started blushing a bright red once more.
"Never better," I murmured, laying my head on his chest again. I was perfectly content to lay there for now.
Fluffle learns of the multimafia situation in Aifam Cove, panics, and somehow finds Mick. Lynna asks about the earpiece, thinking it is a very fancy earring.
Barbra is relieved that Rilen came in just in time to save her, and turns from blue to red again when he says he loves her. She confesses her love in return and is positively glowing.
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Post by Liou on Apr 23, 2014 18:59:44 GMT -5
Leo was actually starting to have fun. He hadn't plotted with people like that in a long time. It felt good to have something worth fighting for. He was startled when Lucille mentioned a potion. "So you know for sure that's how they've returned? Yeah, we can't risk leaving a drop of it lying around, or even a recipe hidden somewhere. It's a good thing that salty water isn't exactly lacking around here. I'm up for burning things in the night, no problemo. Ha, we'll make a mafia barbecue, take that! They'll be so mad because they think they're so cooooool... I just hope the process doesn't harm our ghostly forms, though!" He saluted Rilen when the surfer came in to do his speech. "There's a fine man! I don't know how you got all of them, but they will be put to good use." He remembered seeing Rilen with Miko, briefly, and for a longer time at the cinema. They had been cute. He could only imagine how Rilen had fared after that murder. "Thank you, for Aifam, and for Miko. I don't have any medals. Shoot. Here, token of my gratitude!" He took off a ghostly bracelet and let it drift over to Rilen. "Stay handsome!" After Rilen had left, he adressed Lucille: "If the church is a good place to leave the weapons stash, I'll try and figure out a way of ferrying mine and adding them to the lot. We'll have to offer protection to the people who don't fight. Otherwise, cooperating with the mafia will be their only option. We'll need to make sure we have enough living members to wield all those weapons." "I've been working on my, uh, grip on reality, but I wouldn't trust my aim just yet, especially when dealing with recoil. I'd be happy to help rally living members, though. I can float around their houses and search for any hints of mafia connections before we decide whether they're trustworthy. I can appear in random places and give them cryptic messages." He counted all those suggestions on his fingers. "We could do with a map of all the mafia-aligned homes in town. Heck, I could find you some blackmail material! And when you need me to leave a calling card..." He rubbed his hands gleefully. "I'll shave a message into the back of their head!" "Not sure how safe it is to sneak into the mafia dudes' houses, though. I know Travis's of course. Haven't tried any of the others yet." He squealed under his breath when Fluffle came in and was about to drift after her when she left. Aaaw. "We can have pony time later, then," he called after her. Lost in daydreams of prancing ponies in ribbons, it took him a moment to notice that Sister Lu was making an odd face. Oho. A lovestruck face. With a gasp, Leo turned to see Kylie enter. He immediately flopped closer to the floor, took a more vaporous texture and drifted around them like a cloud of glitter, letting little ghostly roses rain in their background. His voice could vaguely be heard singing, with an occasional squeak: "When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one! Cause she needs somebody, to tell her that it's gonna last forever!" Liou finally FINALLY catches up, Leo um, suggests some stuff for the resistance, and ships Kylille.
Why did I do this T_T |
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Post by Gelquie on Apr 23, 2014 19:35:46 GMT -5
For a long time, Kylie and Lucille stared at each other, seeming shocked to see each other. Kylie thought she had heard quiet singing: "When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one! Cause she needs somebody, to tell her that it's gonna last forever!". Forever... It would be, wouldn't it? Kylie tried to say something, and opened her mouth slightly, but Kylie found no voice coming from her mouth. She knew she had to say something, but... Perhaps not quite yet. Lucille had floated through Cheryl, but hesitated. The same question seemed to appear in both of their minds, and was one of the questions that had so burned Kylie. How would they hold each other again? It was Lucille who acted first, who approached slowly while appearing to solidify. Could they...? Could they really? Kylie lifted her arms tentatively and slowly, they embraced. She brought her arms closer to Lucille, closer... Closer... Until they had both joined into one, solid embrace. Kylie felt the gentle chill of Lucille's ghost form against her body, and she found herself accepting it. It didn't have the warmth of when she was alive, and the heartbeat in Lucille's chest was conspicuously absent. But everything else was the same. Or perhaps, in a way, stronger now. "I'm so glad to see you," Lucille murmured softly. The sound resonated in Kylie's ear as she found herself falling deeper into the hug, the last signs of stoicism on her face fading. Lucille, Lucille...She knew that the meeting had to go on, and that she would ultimately have to wait to truly talk to Lucille. She knew that their hug would have to break for the sake of the meeting. She knew that they had to first finalize their plans, and find out how to tear down the Mafia's iron rule. But right now, she needed this. She didn't care who was watching. She needed this. She looked into Lucille's face. "Oh Lucille," Kylie said, her voice soft. "I'm so sorry for how I acted." The word hung in the air for some time before she rested her head on Lucille's shoulder. The song echoing in her head, Kylie spoke softly and quietly into Lucille's ear. "I love you. I love you so much." Kylie and Lucille reunite and embrace. Music is in the background! Kylie confesses her love to Lucille.
(But they have to return to important meeting matters eventually. Important stuff is important.) |
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Post by Sporty on Apr 23, 2014 19:55:02 GMT -5
Melanie listened intently as the planning session began. There wasn't much for her to contribute -- she had no experience with this kind of thing, beyond her failed attempts to track down the mafias in the past few days. She still needed to catch up a bit on the most recent events anyway. Had Winter's Wrath actually managed to revive its fallen members? She shuddered at the thought... though on the other hand, now that they had all gone and revealed themselves, keeping track of them would be much easier. The mafias -- both before and after their union -- had played their cards well, it seemed; had they not broken the spirits of so many townsfolk, it would have been laughably easy for the masses to overwhelm them when they'd finally shown their sorry faces. Melanie thanked Rilen for his contribution to their efforts, and then listened intently as Leo suggested that they find other people who could wield all the weapons. She mulled over the idea of those weapons for a moment. "Whoever else we manage to recruit can have my share of the weaponry," she said. "I wouldn't be much good with it, and my wolf form is pretty tough on its own. I've got a good instinct and a bit of hunting experience in that form, too." Never thought I'd be so thankful for all those restless nights chasing after deer, she added silently. Another thought suddenly came to her, one that managed to make her hopeful and uneasy at the same time. You don't have to be the only werewolf in town. If you offered the curse to other rebels, it would give them protection and power as well.Before she could muster up the courage to offer this suggestion, she was distracted by the appearance of Kylie in the doorway. Everyone was... though it seemed that Lucille was especially so. In moments, the two were embracing and whispering sweet things to one another, and Leo had increased the intensity of his sparkles and begun to serenade them. Melanie couldn't help but smile at the scene. Life and love were still in this broken town... And where there was love, there was meaning. There was hope. Melanie listens during the resistance meeting, piecing together bits of information that she'd missed that morning. She offers to let someone else take the weapons she would have used, figuring that she'd be better off sticking with her wolfiness. She then contemplates the possibility of passing on lycanthropy to other willing rebels, and in the process completely misses Fluffle's appearance ):
When Lucille and Kylie have their reunion, the sweet love scene fuels Melanie's hope for the town. |
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Post by Birdy on Apr 23, 2014 20:17:36 GMT -5
She hadn’t stayed asleep long. (She rarely did these days. ) The nightmares had come sooner than she’d wished. They were all basically the same, really. Knives, guns, blood, death… Her stomach twisted, and she scrambled out of bed and to the bathroom, reaching the sink just as the heaves started. (Nothing came up, of course. There was nothing to come up – she hadn’t had a chance to eat anything all day. And it wasn’t like she even felt like eating in the first place… ) Finally the heaving subsided, and she wearily sank down onto the floor. She felt flushed and shaky, and didn’t trust herself to stand – not yet. So she just sat there, arms on her knees, head in her arms. Breathing. Fighting against the feverish flush and churning stomach she seemed to possess so often anymore… Finally, she felt confident enough to stand, and slowly got to her feet. (A glance in the mirror revealed the flush was nearly gone. All the same… she needed air. Raking her fingers though her hair in an attempt to comb it back into place, Hermia grabbed only the essentials (AKA, her messenger bag of the usual things), and exited the room, closing and locking the door behind her. Once outside, she wasn’t sure where to go. She didn’t want to go back to the Town Square. But where else could she go? Her gaze fell onto one building, just across the street. Channel 24 News Studio & Associates. …It would be risky; she highly doubted Cheryl or anyone would be happy to see her… But if it meant a few minutes alone, well... perhaps it would be worth the risk. She suddenly cringed, stopping in her tracks in the middle of the road. A quick mental tally to check her work confirmed it – tomorrow was the day the Aifam Cove Weekly was supposed to be coming out. She was nowhere near done. She had barely started, and then with all the deaths, and mafia business, and everything else… She stifled a groan and started walking again, this time more slowly. She’d think of something… if nothing else, post a notice somewhere, or send out a flyer, or something, saying this week’s newspaper had been cancelled due to the… unfortunate circumstances. (She briefly considered asking Cheryl if she’d be willing to work the message into a news presentation, but decided against it. She doubted Cheryl would want to do anything but punch her in the face after this… ) She opened the door as quietly as she could, listening for any sounds. She heard none. Good, she thought, walking as quickly and silently as possible until she reached her office. Reaching into her bag, she drew out her ring of keys, which jangled slightly as she looked for the right one. She found it, and inserted it into the lock. With a click, the knob turned, and Hermia entered her office. …Or started to. She stopped at the threshold, one hand on the knob, one hand on her bag. She could only stare in shock at her office, or rather, what was left of it… All of the furniture was upside down and on the opposite side of the room from its original place.Hermia continued to stand and stare. How–? She closed her eyes. “Prachett…” she muttered, then shrugged the bag off her shoulder and entered the room, taking care not to slam the door behind her, no matter how much she wished to. (No need to alert them to her presence, after all – though she was sure they already knew she was there. Prachett had cameras virtually everywhere, it seemed. ) She scanned the room, unsure what to do next. It was obvious she wasn’t wanted here. (Not that she could really blame them… ) But… where would she go? She couldn’t haul all this back to the Stallion Inn and set of her office there… (Okay, so she could, but it would be a lot of work… and with only the mafia to help her move, well. She didn’t want to risk anyone – even a petty technician – getting in the crosshairs of the mafia. No, this was her own battle – and she’d fight it on her own. ) But where to move to… She didn’t think she’d be welcome to stay on this floor, but—what about the basement? She vaguely remembered some old storage rooms down there. Perhaps one of them could be cleaned up enough… That would keep her close to the printing press for the Aifam Cove Weekly (very close, actually – the presses were in the basement), plus she could stay out of the way of Cheryl and her team, and as an added bonus… there were no cameras in the basement. No one to watch her every move like a hawk, simply because she happened to be aligned with the mafia. Yes, the basement seemed the best choice for now. She turned and exited the room. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” she commented dryly, knowing Prachett must be watching. She reached the door to the basement stairs, and soon found herself at the bottom of them. Groping around in the dark, she muttered under her breath, unable to find the lightswitch. Reaching into her bag, she groped around until her hand touched a cellphone – which one, she didn’t know or care. (Thank ‘Woo Morty had never found out she had three of the things…) Turning it on, she used the dim light from the screen to locate the lightswitch, and flipped it on. Light flooded the room, and Hermia dropped the phone back into her bag after turning it off and closing it. She glanced around until she spied it – off in the corner, a door. Weaving around the presses, she made her way towards it. Upon reaching it, she hesitated, then opened the door. She was greeted with blackness, the light from behind her barely reaching inside the room. She groped around inside on either side of the door, and finally found the switch. She turned it on, and the lightbulb promptly gave a loud POP! and blue flash. …Great. Stifling a groan, she reached into her bag and pulled out a cellphone again, and turned it on. The dim light wouldn’t do much, but it’d be something. She could make out a few things sitting around –musty old boxes, a scraggly mop, and other various items were in this room. She didn’t know about any of the other rooms, but this would be a place she could store her things temporally, at least. Until she could find a better place, and a lightbulb. Propping the door open, she closed the phone and stuck in in her pocket – she might need it later, if things kept up the way they were. She made her way back to her office, and opened the door. She entered and grabbed the nearest chair, and propping that door open too. Best start with the big things. She moved some things off her desk and flipped it onto its side, then began the slow, tedious process of wrangling it out the doors. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I’m moving,” she commented to what could have been dead air for all she knew. “I hear a lovely little space in the basement just opened up…” …She’d forgotten about the top basement door. No matter. She’d get through this. Finally she managed to get the door open, and the desk though it. Down the stairs was almost easier, if she let gravity do most of the work. Eventually, the desk was upright and inside the near-empty room. Hermia lay on top of it, trying to catch her breath. That had been much more work than she’d anticipated. She didn’t want to think about how more trips she had to make… Her eyes drifted to the musty old boxes. They might not be in the best condition…but they were better than nothing. Picking up what appeared to be the best quality one, she carried it up with her and used it to store many of the smaller items, such as cords, pencil can, paperweight… all the awkward things that can be cumbersome. She didn’t know how long she worked – though she knew it must be hours. Finally, though, everything was moved downstairs, and not a trace was left behind in her former office. She sat slumped in a chair at the edge of her desk, barely having enough room to rest her head. She was exhausted. She’d occasionally fired off a snarky comment as she walked to and from her old office, but eventually, she just stayed silent. There was no point in antagonizing anyone here – they already hated her, so why provoke them more? But now, finally, she was moved. Whether she used this room or another for her new office, she didn’t know or care at this point. What mattered is she was out of everyone’s way. Perhaps tomorrow she could look into setting her office proper. (Assuming she would even be able to move tomorrow… already her muscles were sore from all that hauling. ) But now… She didn’t know. She should leave, she knew. There were still things she needed to do, to get… She’d need a lock for her office door – whether she bought an entire new doorknob or just installed a padlock, she didn’t know at this point. She’d need a supply of lightbulbs. A cockroach ran across the floor, and Hermia grimaced. Looks like she’d be needing a healthy supply of bugspray, too… She stood with a groan and stretched her tired, stiff muscles. She could worry about that tomorrow. Right now, though… she should probably just go back to the Inn. She had no idea where her fellow mafia members were, and besides…she didn’t really feel like talking to anyone right now... After one last trip up the basement stairs, she nearly stumbled out the door of Channel 24 News Studio & Associates. Blinking the in the seemingly-bright light, Hermia took a moment to observe her surroundings as she walked across the street, towards the Stallion Inn. The streets seemed deserted, though that was hardly surprising. No one wanted to risk running into a mafioso. She took a deep breath of the chill air as she approached the Inn and reached for the doorknob, and then slowly let it out. This was life now, so she might as well accept it. She opened the door and stepped inside. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner things could settle into some semblance of what would be considered “normal” from now on. She walked down the hall to her room. The sooner things became “normal”, the sooner she could slip back into the safety of a routine. She opened the door and slipped inside, barely able to stumble towards the bed and close the door behind her. She didn’t lock it. She was too tired. She could barely lift her bag to put it on her desk… She weakly kicked off her shoes and almost literally crawled onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow. She was so tired… both physically and mentally. This past week had been… Hell. That’s the only word she could think of to even begin to describe it. And she’d helped create it. (In a way… that made her a demon, didn’t it? She’d certainly done enough demonic things recently. She watched people die, even orchestrated some of the deaths herself… She’d watched in silence as throats had been slit, people were shot or thrown off cliffs, stabbed in the heart… ) Only a demon would betray a friend, a teammate to their death. Only a demon would agree to kill someone they knew was innocent, who meant no harm to them at all. Only a demon would stay silent as a child sobbed, begging for his life… She was a demon – there was no denying that. She had to be, to do what she’d done. There was no other explanation. She was a demon… Hermia can't sleep due to nightmares.
She nearly throws up but since she hasn't eaten anything that day, is unsuccessful.
She decides to go to Channel 24 News Studio & Associates and hopefully have some time alone to collect her thoughts.
She arrives to find Prachett has rearranged her office - clearly showing her she's not wanted.
Remembering some old rooms in the basement (where the printing press is), she decides to go look into that. She finds a room and manages to move everything down there. Exhausted, she returns to the Stallion Inn.
After thinking over the events of the past few days, she comes to the conclusion that she must be a demon to have done all the things she did. |
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Post by PFA on Apr 23, 2014 20:25:24 GMT -5
"Cassidy and Jonathan, right?" the ghost said, before quickly adding, "I’m not with the mafia. I’m here to help. You guys took something from Bardsley’s office, right?""Uh... yes?" Jonathan replied, glancing briefly back at Cassidy and the notes in her hands. "But how did you know that?" The ghost seemed to listen to someone through an earpiece for a moment—possibly where he was getting his information from?—before speaking again. "We should probably keep moving. I don’t know if you saw but Bardsley’s keeping company with a ghost from another mafia, and…she’s not exactly friendly. I can help keep watch for her and at least buy you some time if she finds us.""Oh, well, that's, uh..." Jonathan grimaced. "Yeah, if you could do that, that'd be grea—" And then the ghost was tackled by a pony. Jonathan blinked. "...Well then." "We'd better get going," Cassidy remarked. "Yeah, you're probably right," Jonathan agreed. Turning to the ghosts (there were three of them now), he added, "Uh, we can't stay, so you could come with us, or... whatever you want to do, I guess? I dunno. Thanks for the warning, though." Without waiting for an answer, he drove off. It was too risky to wait for too long. Jonathan is a little perplexed by Mick, but accepts the advice. When Fluffle tackles Mick, Jon decides to continue driving, telling the ghosts they can follow if they want, or whatever they want to do.
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Post by Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) on Apr 23, 2014 20:25:33 GMT -5
(part of this was a collab with Lizzie) "In the church, in the coat room, there is a crate full of weapons. Christopher never wanted to think about that closet again, let alone that closet with weapons in it. He wanted that memory to just go away. He knew it was invetable, that his end would eventually come, and he didn't deserve a nice clean one, but still... he didn't want to remember. Poor kid needed a hug. Fluffle floated over and nuzzled him, the jostling forcing a stifled giggle to be elicited from her fur. Lynna poked her head out one more time, her hair flowing as if she was underwater. “Is it safe to come out y—“ she took one look at Christopher’s face and dove back in there, giggling once more.Christopher just assumed this was something that happened. He actually felt the horse (? he wasn't sure, he didn't really know his animals that well) touch him. He was very, very confused, but he just went with it. He stared at the girl who popped out of the horse's fur. Her voice sounded happy, youthful, innocent. "I'm sorry, Christopher, but there is no other way. You don't have to take part in it, nobody is asking to but we will have to kill people. It's inevitable," she sighed and shook her head. "I wish there was something else we could do."How did he reply to that? Nothing he was going to say was going to stop her. "Please... just..." he was trying to find the words, "Please." Why did anyone have to die? That voice. It had to be, there was no mistaking it. Christopher turned around. “Kota!” His cousin was there. He didn’t comprehend that they were dead, he didn’t care about that right now, all that mattered was Dakota was there, right then, with him. Dakota stared for a moment, unsure of what to say to their cousin, before reaching out to touch his shoulder again. “Christopher?” they paused, troubling over words, “Are you … okay?” “K-kota” his voice was shaking but that was nothing new. He could barely register the question. Instead of answering he flung himself at them, wrapping his arms around their neck. “K-kota, don’t leave ok? Just stay right here.” The pink haired enby was taken by surprise, and as Christopher wrapped his arms around their neck, they reached forward to grab him, albeit a bit shaky. “That’s cool, we can touch each other I guess,” Dakota commented, ruffling his hair. They fell silent again, for a few seconds at least, before burying their face in his hair. They whispered, “Why would I leave? I don’t need to go anywhere.” You’re the one who left anyway, they thought. It was just like before. He had finally woken up in Dakota’s arms. Dakota would calm him down just like they always did. They’d remind him it was just a nightmare, that there was nothing to be afraid of. They’d turn on the TV and let him listen to one of Cheryl’s news reports while rocking him slowly. Touch each other? Right, he was dead. If they could touch him that meant. No. Dakota could not be dead. Dakota shouldn’t be dead, they should be alive. “K-k-kota” he trembled in their arms, “I’m so sorry. I killed you, I killed you.” Dakota was beginning to understand now. They raised their head slightly, and held Christopher out at arms length to look in his eyes. Those trusting, now seeing, brown eyes. Dakota’s own blue-green eyes tried to meet his, and when they finally did, they opened their mouth to speak. “You didn’t kill me, Topher. Nathan did. I mean, I kind of saw it. So,” Dakota said, trying to calm him down, and stifled a snort at their next words, “I think I know.” Christopher looked into Dakota’s eyes. It was so weird. He was never going to be used to this seeing thing, ever. “If I hadn’t come here you wouldn’t have died. No one would have. It’s all my fault” he insisted, trying to keep from crying. This was no time to be a cry baby. “I didn’t want you to die.” “Christopher, that’s not true,” Dakota said, shaking his shoulders a bit, and continued, “They would have come either way. Most of those people have been here since before you, before me. You didn’t cause this. Nobody did but them.” They smiled somewhat, and ruffled his hair again, before pulling him back in for the hug. “And now, we don’t really have to worry that much. We can go anywhere. We’ll never age. You can see,” they continued encouragingly, “so you and I can watch Cheryl on the news.” “Thats not true.” He whispered, “Kota, you wouldn’t like me very much if you knew…” How could anyone like him? Not even Dakota could like him. Death followed him around. It was all his fault. “Knew wha--” Dakota cut themself off, thinking better of the words they were saying. This could wait. “Seeing is so scary though.” Christopher said, leaning into the hug, “Not seeing wasn’t so bad.” He loosened his grip on them and pulled out of the hug, looking at them, “Cheryl is just as great in person! You have to meet her! You’d like her I think. Her voice is even better, LIVE. I want to stay here. If thats ok? I mean…” he tried to put his thoughts in order, “I want to stay with you. Please don’t leave. But, I want to stay here with Cheryl and Ris. I want to try and help. I don’t want anyone else to die Kota.” He hadn’t talked this much in a long time. Talking to Dakota was easy. He could always talk to them without stumbling over his words. Dakota was safe. Actually safe. Not safe like Alma or Nelly, safe. Dakota hesitated, thinking through their options carefully. They tried opening their mouth several times, but nothing came out. Not even air. “If that’s… really what you want,” Dakota said, chewing on their lower lip, “I guess I can stay. We should take trips, though… And nobody else will die. Nobody’s died because of you.” They struggled for more words, but gave up. Instead, they just pulled him in for another hug. “Ok, trips. But not to the ocean ok?” he leaned into the hug again. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Dakota. He decided to stop pressing his blame in all this. Dakota didn’t need to get upset about it. It was his burden, not theirs. “Okay. No ocean,” Dakota agreed, before falling silent again. “Kota… I’m sorry this happened. I’m just glad,” he paused, “I’m glad you’re here now.” “I’m sorry this happened, too, Topher,” Dakota said, “I won’t leave anymore.” Christopher and Dakota are cute and finally get back together and are happy. |
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Post by Tiger on Apr 23, 2014 20:56:41 GMT -5
"Uh... yes? But how did you know that?"Mick pointed at his earpiece. “I have a…guide, I guess. He gives me missions and information so I can help people.” To Mick’s relief, Jonathan at least seemed willing to let him come along, even if he was hesitant. Not that Mick could really blame him for that; a ghost with noose scars and sightless eyes appearing behind their car had probably not been a reassuring sight. Just before Mick could get in the car – he was tackled. It was a surprisingly soft tackle. “Fluffle!” A ghost was knocked out of Fluffle’s fur; as Fluffle let Mick up, the ghost flounced back to them, complaining, "I told you I already paid, let me back in there!” Somehwat creepily, she fixed Mick with a dead-eyed expression. With a jolt, Mick recognized the girl – hadn’t she been the ghost standing behind the reluctant woman on the mafia stage? “Yep,” Meta confirmed. “You got a good eye for people, I’ll give you that. Bet it made finding people to shoot real easy.” "Lucky you. Mom never let me have jewelry.""Her name’s Lynna. Be nice. The fish is named Pillowface.” The…fish?“Yes, Mick, the fish, could you at least try to keep up with the conversation? Also, the Bard and your dear Godmother are in the office. Might wanna pick up the pace.” At about the same moment, Cassidy suggested they get going and Jonathan agreed. Mick nodded, too. “Yeah, we need to go. Fluffle – if you’re coming with, you need to be careful. Diana’s here, too.” He’d really hoped Fluffle wouldn’t get involved – not that he didn’t appreciate her help, but Mick hated that the mess he’d made of his afterlife put Fluffle in danger, too. Heck, he was part of why she was a ghost in the first place – it seemed doubly unfair that the pony had to pay for the waffle cook’s mistakes. He got in the car, wrapping an arm around Fluffle as Jonathan drove off. One of the most basic difficulties of purgatory was difficulty in interacting with unfamiliar solid objects. He could interact with ghosts and ghostly objects just fine, however (well, usually; there had been one mission where Mick’s task had been helping another ghost, so naturally, Metastophelous had turned off half of his ghostly abilities. The demon had been annoyingly cheerful about it), so by holding onto Fluffle (who had a much better grip on tangible objects), he was less likely to just phase out through the back of the car. Also, it was a good way to hug the pony. He did appreciate her being around. Mick gets in the car.
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Post by Avery on Apr 23, 2014 20:59:15 GMT -5
Six Months Later...
The snow was gone, the trees lush and green. The air had grown humid and warm, and the tourists had begun to trickle back in. Though the Winter’s Wrath flag continued to flap in the town square, all the blood on the streets had been scrubbed away. The bodies had been cremated and returned to the sea.
Life under Winter’s Wrath was… not entirely bad, really. As long as the citizens of Aifam Cove gave the mafiosos a wide berth, and a portion of all business profits, then life stayed pretty quiet, in fact. It returned to as close to normal as it possibly could.
The tourists were none the wiser. Sure, maybe they noticed the strange flag in the town square, but they wrote it off as an abstract art piece. And maybe they quirked an eyebrow at the occasional announcements that rang out over the town loudspeaker by a very excitable sounding bloke who called himself Travis Richem, and who seemed to be narrating his life, but they thought it was part of the town’s rural charm. And maybe they picked up on the fact that the Burger Hut, which used to be a local hangout hotspot, now seemed entirely frequented by out-of-towners, but they supposed the considerate citizens were just leaving more booths for their treasured visitors. And so the tourists spent their money, and sunned themselves on Sirensong Beach, and hiked the trails that fringed Aifam Cove, knowing none of the horror that had taken place six months ago—and nothing of the mafia that still lorded over the town now.
And as for the townspeople…
For the most part, they stayed biddable. They kept up the play of being under the mafia’s iron fist. But if you watched them closely, very closely, you might have started to notice things. The hard stares cast towards one Leland G. Bardsley as he passed a citizen on the street. The way numerous candid photos of a very large crab would be posted like clockwork outside town hall each morning, signed by various Aifam residents, and all headed with ‘See Piper? Webster says hi’—before being rapidly torn down by a grumbling, camera-toting woman. Or maybe you’d note the way many in town had taken up drinking coffee, not tea, and would often slurp loudly and smugly on their espressos when they saw Nathan Lukas coming their way. A defiant look on their faces. A smile in their eyes.
The mafia had won the battle, but that did not mean Aifam Cove and its residents had been defeated for good. Far from it, in fact. And though times might be dark, you know what they say: it is always darkest before the dawn.
And one day—some day—Aifam Cove would have a very bright dawn. |
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Post by RielCZ on Apr 24, 2014 0:23:12 GMT -5
I needed to finish some stuff up before the epilogue.
And I needed to reply to all the Rilen interactions before he left Channel 24! Ahh! You're all amazing! (( Earlier, back in Channel 24)) The nun floated over to Rilen and thanked him. Her words made him want to stay, to fight... But he was not from here and this ultimately wasn't his battle; not really. Miko did not want to see him come under potential harm; she had entrusted Barbra to him and gave him her money so he could get out of Aifam. But that wasn't to say the boarder wouldn't try to help them before he did. "While I regret you not being here, you look after your own safety." She made the sign of the triple feather across herself and smiled. "May the Lord' Woo watch over you in all your endeavours."He joined her in making the sign of the triple feather. That was something he hadn't done in a while, but it felt oddly... humbling. Almost empowering. "May 'Woo bless and guide this resistance." He smiled at her. And he smiled even wider at the inherent irony of Leo's comment. "Ha, we'll make a mafia barbecue, take that! They'll be so mad because they think they're so cooooool..."And then the hairdresser saluted him. "There's a fine man! I don't know how you got all of them, but they will be put to good use." Leo paused and his face seemed in mild contemplation. "Thank you, for Aifam, and for Miko." Miko? "I don't have any medals. Shoot. Here, token of my gratitude!" He took off a ghostly bracelet and let it drift over to Rilen. "Stay handsome!"Rilen smiled awkwardly as the thing landed and stayed around his wrist with surprising corporeality. And yet, he managed to push his other hand's index finger right through it. "Thanks, Leo," he said, now grinning as he extended his arm to shake hands with the man. "Thanks for the bracelet, for the party, and for making my sister's hair look 'fabulous' -- Lora used to rave about you." He paused, and fully absorbed the "For Miko." "Yes," he added softly, "I wouldn't have those weapons, I'd not be standing here in front of you... if not for Miko." He smiled. Oh, Miko. He hadn't seen her since her death, and he hoped she was having a wonderful afterlife. And then the young woman he was certain worked with the vet thanked him. He wasn't sure why -- probably his oddly elated mood -- but he hugged her. "Thanks, everyone," he declared. He was about to reiterate "Long live Aifam Cove" when a ghost pony arrived. Huh. It started to comfort the distressed Christopher. He decided he may as well take his leave, and nodded in solidarity to everyone. But as he exited, in came a young girl. He watched from the doorway as the girl and the nun hugged each other in warm, loving embrace. Rilen smiled. This town would make it. Somehow, it would make it. Somehow, they would win. As Leo started serenading the two, Rilen thought back to Miko. And Barbra. He'd have to tell that plant how much she meant to him. Quietly, he left, soon to witness Travis harassing Bardsley. (( The Present/Future)) Back on the beach, Rilen and Lora were finishing their bowls of soup. Barbra was still against Rilen's chest -- she seemed perfectly at ease there, and Rilen really didn't want to let her go. He remembered what she'd said -- "I love you, too." He smiled at her. He would always have this plant, always have something to love, to cherish... Whatever rustling there was now seemed to be caused by the wind. Rilen told his sister he'd pay her back for whatever she'd spent on the boat rental and weaponry once they reached the mainland. Lora expressed her gratitude, and said she was just happy he was safe. "But of course I'll be happier when I get reimbursed," she added with her wry smile. Typical Lora. "And I'll be happier still when you see a psychiatrist." "I swear, I'm not insane," he replied half-heartedly. Meh. He wasn't in an argumentative mood right now. Gathering all their things, they headed towards the speedboat. Lora started it; she'd become quite adept at piloting these things in her summers here, while the future boarder usually stuck to the canoe. (A canoe would not do much help crossing the Netwah Sea.) The boat sped away from Aifam Cove. Rilen looked back at the town, diminishing in size as they got further away. He remembered fishing in his youth... learning he hated fishing. He recalled exploring the nature trails with Lora, their secret place... in part, eventually allowing him to get off the island. He recognized the steeple of the church, quickly fading into the horizon... He had attended mass with Aunt Martha there. He had seen Christopher's body there. He had left the weapons there. It all seemed so long ago. (Some of it was... but the leaving of the weapons was mere hours prior.) Still hugging Barbra, he focused his attention toward the setting sun in the sky as the speedboat revved on. The sun had set on Aifam Cove. There was no denying that. But with every sunset came a sunrise. One day Aifam Cove would have theirs. Beginning to drift into sleep, Rilen hoped that day would come soon. Rilen reacts to people before exiting the building of Channel 24.
(Then other things, found in my last post, happen.)
Then, he, Barbra, and Lora leave via speedboat.
The end. |
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Post by PFA on Apr 24, 2014 13:44:22 GMT -5
Running away was hard. It wasn't easy leaving their former lives and friends behind—Cassidy could only imagine the onslaught of texts she must have gotten from Susie, when the latter realized the former was missing—but it was even harder leaving family behind. When she called her grandfather to explain the situation, he instructed her not to come anywhere near him, because Bardsley would surely find her if she did. She agreed. That was the last she'd ever heard from him. Cassidy and Jonathan eventually settled in an entirely different town, going to an entirely different school, adopting entirely different personas. Cassidy had suggested they change their names, to make it harder for them to be tracked. Jonathan thought for a moment at the suggestion, then laughed. "Maybe you could be Mallory and I could be Jackson," he suggested. Cassidy chuckled weakly. "Sure, why not?" And that's how Mallorie Jones and Jack Stuart were born. They went as far as their limited funds would allow them: dying their hair, changing their outfits, even changing their majors. (Cassidy/Mallorie did not especially want to go back into Chemistry after this.) The only thing they didn't do was split up. Perhaps it was risky to stick together, but it was nice having a friend by your side to deal with the difficult changes. Overall, their new lives were pleasant. They missed their old friends, but they made new ones. They would hang out together, have fun, forgetting the past... it was nice. The next six months went by in relative peace—thankfully Bardsley had never found them, though certainly he had tried. Their new friends never knew why, exactly, Mallorie and Jack were so insistent on not spending the summer at Aifam Cove. They knew they could never go back to Aifam Cove, not with things as they were. Maybe someday, if things changed... but that was not this day. --- Leland G. Bardsley was satisfied with his life. It was nice being in power, being able to do whatever he wanted. He enjoyed teaching, and he knew the staff at Prettyboy College would never disappoint him by denying him that opportunity. Though several of his students dropped his class, several former Anthropology majors changed their minds and went into something else... which was really quite a shame. He had much to teach them, and most of it wasn't even related to his new research. That said, he really had learned so much since joining the mafia. The whole ordeal had taught him so much about society, about people... but even more surprisingly, he had learned some things about himself. He remembered it well, that fateful day all those years ago. He was working on a paper for Psychology class back in high school, reading up on various psychological disorders, when he happened upon an article discussing sociopathy. It was frightening when he realized how... familiar, the description sounded. He never wanted anyone to figure out, so he learned how to hide. He learned how to fake relationships with other people, because he knew he would never be able to form real ones. And yet... It felt great joining the mafia, where he could finally be himself and no one would find it odd. Of all the Chills, he had generally gotten along best with Lindsey. Where Alma and Hermia had never seemed particularly enthused about their work, Lindsey was in it for herself, which is something Professor Bardsley could relate to. And even when she knew his true nature, she was still friendly to him, which was something he appreciated more than he realized. To the point where he was... distinctly more bothered by her death than he had expected to be. In fact, Lindsey may have been the closest thing he'd ever had to a real friend. (And her brother too, to some extent; he definitely got along with Nathan better than the other former Abominables.) Which... was something he didn't expect to be possible. And then he met Diana Pallada. Professor Bardsley had never expected he would meet someone who understood him so well. Ever since the day they met, she had been there for him. She would help to calm him down when he was frustrated. She would stand up for him when others tried to bring him down. She even came to stay at his house after Richem had decided to crash the place while he was gone, promising to prevent such intrusions from happening again. Together, they created a book about the research they'd made here in Aifam Cove. They made such a wonderful partnership. He had never thought it possible for a sociopath like himself to care about another person so much, but... he could hardly imagine life without Diana now. He had even stopped calling her Dr. Pallada, instead referring to her by her first name. Diana had done likewise, referring to him as Leland. A sign of affection. As much as he hated to admit it... maybe Richem was right. Was what love felt like? It took him a long time to accept it. Ever since that fateful day in high school, he had been telling himself that he would never form a real relationship with another person. He was a sociopath; it was impossible. And yet here he was, forming friendships and falling in love. How was it possible? Maybe... ...Maybe he wasn't as unfeeling as he thought he was...? The revelation was honestly quite perplexing. He had killed innocent people in cold blood, without so much as a second thought. He had brought society to its knees, and now ruled over Aifam Cove with an iron fist, without even a twinge of guilt. How was it possible for someone so uncaring to form relationships? This would definitely require further study... Cassidy and Jonathan escape, changing their names to Mallorie Jones and Jack Stuart, respectively. They settle into their new lives and stay away from Aifam Cove. Meanwhile, Professor Bardsley gets introspective, and murdershipping is confirmed as canon. |
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Post by Ian Wolf-Park on Apr 24, 2014 14:21:00 GMT -5
Dr. Evan Parker surveyed his new surroundings in Weewoo City, content with the building that he had chosen for his new vet clinic. It was close the to zoo which made him happy as it meant an extra hand could mean the difference between life and death. It was also slightly larger than his old office in Aifam Cove, but he did not mind as he had anticipated the influx of customers. It had been hard for Evan to clear his office, but it was easier once he had been able to convince Winter's Wrath that he had accepted a position at the zoo (which was partially true) as soon as he had found the location he was looking for during his times spent delivering the rare items from Anna's store to his appraisal friend. The mafia were suspicious of the timing in general, but accepted it as a part of reality. Of course, it was heartbreaking, especially for Melanie, when Evan broke the news that he was moving, but she understood his reasoning and wished him well. It was also heartbreaking for the citizens that he had rescued from Travis, knowing that there wouldn't be anyone to save them from the delusional reality TV star. For now, Evan was ready to start a new chapter in his life. Evan starts up a new life in Weewoo City |
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Post by Diana on Apr 24, 2014 15:52:33 GMT -5
A mail truck meandered through the lower ring of Chet Street, stopping at every house or two to pass the usual bills, sweepstakes, and junk mail into their letterboxes. There was plenty to deliver. Summer was a busy time of year, to be sure, but at least the roads were manageable.
The driver frowned when he came to that house. Six days a week, he could pretend the nuisance didn’t exist. But on the seventh… he rummaged in his bag. There it was, like clockwork - an envelope dotted with quaint little pictures. To my dearest Winnie.
The flag on the mailbox was up, just as he’d last seen it, and he was unsurprised to find that it was still brimming. The bills had finally stopped, at least, but there was an impressive amount of leftover paperwork in there in addition to all the misdirected mail.
He wished he could contact whoever kept sending things here; it was frustratingly clear this ‘Lydia Teakes’ had the wrong address, and all her care packages were rotting away on the front porch. But that would be a breach of conduct, even if he did feel a stir of sadness whenever he had to bring up one of those cardboard boxes, lovingly decorated with hearts and smiles, to waste away with the rest.
He sighed and carefully wedged the latest letter in between the rest he’d tried to deliver, and struggled to close the latch again. He was doubtful that anyone actually lived here – there had been a sudden spate of unexplained vacancies six or so months ago.
But there was always that faint light on in the upstairs room...
But no. It simply wasn't his business, and the less he had to acknowledge that house, the better. The driver shrugged and moved on to the next house, whose owner thankfully practiced a better state of attentiveness. The abandoned home would not trouble him again until the next weekly letter came, and then the next, and then no longer, when a summer storm would jar the too-strained latch loose, and all those unread letters would whirl away in the rain.
Inside that dusty, detritus-strewn house, an Xbox glowed.
And Winston Teakes was happy.
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Post by Kristykimmy on Apr 24, 2014 18:50:47 GMT -5
Anna had watched as Evan left town for the last time, safe and free. The Mafia had no choice but to accept his leaving as a matter of due course, and his transporting her antiques had been a perfect cover for him to escape under.
Anna had no reason to stay after that. Those she had cared about had wound up dead or been revealed to be Mafia. The loose ends were tied up. She still carried some measure of guilt for her part in the resurrection of the members of the two mafias, but sometimes you had to let go.
It was time to move on.
The winter was over. Had she still been alive, she would have been starting to surf again, though the waters would still have been cold. So, it had begun on that beach, the start of her strange existence since her death, so too it would end. The ashes of her body had already been returned to the ocean.
As she stood in the knee deep waters, the waves crashing up over her waist, she felt at peace. Something in her knew that the situation in Aifam would not last forever. Someday soon, Winter's Wrath would fall, melting away as sure as a real winter did in the face of the spring.
Anna knew this.
She closed her eyes, smiling, and was gone.
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