Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[RielCZ]

Rilen had witnessed the aftermath of Enna's murder on Channel 24; he was one of the only people in the town to which the slogan "You saw it here first!" really applied.

He couldn't remember if the cake shop girl was someone he had ever interacted with... but it was sad nonetheless, and disconcerting...

Perhaps his sister had managed to evade more than the cold.

Regardless...

Though Rilen did not actively practice the Blessed Weewoo faith, he came to Enna's funeral anyway, believing his absence could only reflect ill upon him. The sand-boarder was dressed in a dark gray sweater and navy pants, a coal-colored toque stretched over his sandy hair -- together, it comprised the blackest clothing he had on the island.

While Travis's somewhat incoherent banter unnerved him, he found the church itself not dreadfully drab and the service fairly quaint. Typical, he supposed, of death. Of violent death? Probably not; he supposed violent death did not occur frequently enough in the area as to gain a more special set or practice.

And then everyone, himself included, went to the coat room.

***

Rilen was never good with the sight of blood. Injuries were OK -- a twisted ankle here or there was even "cool" -- but gory scenes made him dizzy.

Through a blur, he perceived a mix of imagery and sound: the dead boy was covered in a sheet; cameras were on the deceased, then weren't, then seemingly were; Rilen swore the word "Abominable" was said at least twenty times by varying individuals; and, far off, the sand-boarder swore he heard giggling.

He heard someone talk of vacating the area, and attempted to find a group of people to vacate with. There was no large crowd, yet, of which to go off and blend in with. Mourners were spread out in small groups or cliques, yes, but... whom would he associate with? He knew virtually no one. 

Rilen supposed he would just wait until everyone else had made a clear decision, and then he would follow that. 

It wasn't exactly a new way of doing things.

[Gelquie]

It was a long morning for Kylie even before the funeral. At the very least though, her busy morning was the uneventful type of busy. Make breakfast, ride another horse (this time the young, impatient stallion from yesterday; his name was Chopin, a name picked by a previous owner), attend to customers, wake up her mother, keep trying to make her mother decent, hiding the alcohol from her mother... It really didn't help that she didn't get much sleep last night, really.

As somber as the ceremony was, Kylie was at least somewhat happy to sit down, though she remained as quiet and respectful as well. She hadn't really talked much to Enna recently; she was really more important in her childhood, and that was ages ago. So she didn't feel it was appropriate for her to say any eulogies. (Unlike Travis. She knew that he often didn't have tact, but this was an entirely new low for him. And her mother was not showing any restraint again... And then there was Fella...) But aside from some interruptions, the ceremony went without further problems, and she joined the church in a silent prayer for the departed.

She paused one last time to stare at the picture of Enna before she conceded to her mother's request to retrieve their coats. She began following her... when a scream erupted. A scream for Christopher... The blind boy from the morgue. No, this couldn't be...

Kylie couldn't see the body for herself. But with the look of horror on everyone's faces and the murmurs echoing throughout the hall... She could tell. There was another one...

Kylie had barely opened her mouth when she felt her mother grab her hand and give it a tight squeeze. She let her words die as she looked up to her mother. She couldn't hear what she was saying over the commotion... But she could guess. Kylie put a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder before giving her a hug.

"We just gotta try to stick through this," was all that Kylie could think of to say.

When Kylie pulled from the hug, she had to move just in time for Sister Lucille to come through. As close as she had come, as close as she was... No. This was too important right now.

She watched intently as Lucille worked, and gave orders... Lucille. She was one of the few with her heads on her shoulders, even as things were beginning to fall apart... She wondered what was going through her head exactly, and whether she didn't know fear... Or whether she was so strong in the face of fear that she could push past it. Either way... Kylie couldn't help but stare in admiration.

Lucille eventually came over to them, first to slip a note to her mother. While she didn't know its contents, she could tell what it was saying. Deaths or no, there was business to cond--oh wow, Lucille was so close. Kylie found her breath caught in her throat.

"Be brave and stay close to me. I won't let any mafia get their hands on you, my dear," Lucille said, before giving her hand a squeeze. Kylie knew the nun was trying to be subtle, but she couldn't resist shooting her a sweet smile, having not had enough time to squeeze the hand back.

And yet she found herself glancing at her mother again. Mother... she wasn't sure exactly how she was going to react to everything. How much she'd try to work through, or how much she wouldn't, and how much Kylie would have to do to make up for things... Kylie didn't know how things were going to turn out.

Then Kylie made up her mind, and she turned to Bea.

"Mother..." Kylie said quietly. "We should go back to the inn soon. There's only so much we can do here. Or at the very least, we should go somewhere quieter. And..." she glanced down at the letter in her mother's hands. "Pray."

Kylie began to walk towards the main room of the church. She wasn't sure whether her mother wanted to leave quite yet, but she didn't want to be in the crowd either. Well, unless it involved... Well, it would give her some time to think. She halfway wished that she had her horse outside, but she didn't want to leave Chopin tied up for too long when he could roam freely within the fence. She'll have to wait for any comfort from her horses.

And then she saw something... Odd. Out of the corner of her eye. And then... screams. She turned her head to look...

Kylie stared in shock for a moment. Was that... Was that...

Christopher? And his ghost?!

But how... What did... Why was he... Was he okay?! Oh gosh, what was she to do? She had to--

...No. She was sure things were getting to her now. The murders, the stress... She knew that things were bad, but she didn't know they were so bad that they were causing her to hallucinate.

Kylie turned away, trying not to look at the specter. If someone had decided to slip something into her morning juice today, she was going to have one serious talk with them.

[Kozma]

Aaron did not get much time to view the body before Sister Lucille covered the body in the altarcloth. However, he did see something important - something that really troubled him.

The playing card in Christopher's dead hand - it was a Bicycle brand playing card; the same brand of card he used in his magic shows. It was no secret that he liked this particular brand of playing cards so Aaron had to wonder if someone was trying to set him up. Of course, it could just be a complete coincidence; after all, Bicycle was a popular brand of cards but still, Aaron had reason to be disturbed by this detail.

"Excuse me, but this is a crime scene. Since the proper authorities are not currently here, I will take care of the situation."

It was Jack Ryan Smith, the assistant mayor who was trying to curtail the chaos.

"First order of business, everyone should start to vacate the area. It's to crowded and you may disturb evidence."

Aaron appreciated Jack's concern about the crowd messing with the crime scene but he decided to try to stay put near the coat closet for the time being.

[Draco]

Jack waited for a few more minutes. He waited for people to see the room, for people to leave the coat room and leave the body alone, and for people to just calm down. Once the last person finally left the coat room, he slowly closed the door leaving the body inside. There was only one way in, and everyone was now outside it. It would be safe in there until they could get a few people who can check on the body, then help Dakota, or maybe just do it themselves to spare the pink haired one a little.

"The body should be safe in the room for the time being. I need a few volunteers to help study the body before we carry it away."

"Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo."

---

Inside the coat room, all was quiet. The light from outside the room could be seen under the door, a few shadows moving past from time to time. Otherwise the room was dark. In the very back of the room the wall there was a soft knocking. Close to the ground a small hidden department detaches from the wall and slides to the side. A small figure crawls inside and tries looking around. Unable to see the figure feels around until they find the body. They slide him out through the hole silently, then seal the hole again. The only thing left in the room is the playing card.

[Sporty]

The authorities in the matter couldn't seem to agree on where to go. Sister Lucille said they'd continue the service; the assistant mayor said to leave the area. But to where? Was she meant to still stay by the church for the rest of the funeral or to help with the investigation, or head home for her own safety?

The mafias could still be here.

That stray thought made up her mind for her. She would be little help here anyway; she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary during the service.

As Melanie put her hand to the church door, though, a strange set of pleading cries reached her and she paused and turned. Among the crowd a... ghost? had appeared. Of the murdered boy, the one Dakota had called Christopher. They were speaking with him now, as was Lilianna. Melanie stopped and listened; perhaps there was something Christopher could tell them about the mafia, or something they could do to help him. Was there much one could do for a ghost?

"KOTA DON'T LET THEM EAT MY CORPSE."

At that... unusual suggestion, Melanie became acutely aware of the saurian screeches outside. She groaned and pushed the door open.

"Fella!" she barked, huddling in against the cold as she made her way to the overexcited raptor. "Fella don't even think about it. That's not why we're here."

[PFA]

At the assistant mayor's suggestion to vacate the room, Professor Bardsley was happy to oblige. Though his coat was still in the coat closet, he decided to head outside for now—if the Sister said they would be proceeding with the funeral anyway, it seemed the appropriate choice. It was very cold that day, with an even worse wind chill, but he didn't seem to mind. Perhaps living in Aifam Cove helped him adjust to the absolutely frigid winters, or perhaps there was just too much on his mind for him to care.

There had been two kills now, the second one clearly claimed by the Abominable Aifam. The mafia. While the sudden increase in violence was not terribly surprising to him, he had to wonder if there was a message here to be heard. Violently killing a blind child at a funeral, and leaving their calling card to boot... this was a warning. Anyone could be next.

Some others came outside as well, presumably overcome with grief... save, perhaps, for the velociraptor. As the door opened and closed, occasionally he could still hear the voices from inside the church. One voice that stood out among the others was... a child's. Oddly enough, it sounded like the victim's voice, wailing in pain. Professor Bardsley, however, dismissed the idea. Surely he was imagining things. Ghosts weren't real, after all.

[Jayeee]

It was brilliant. No. He was brilliant. The surge of emotion, the power of his voice, the raw emotionality of it all. His speech was a marvel. Perhaps he'd finally win that coveted Oscar. Travis Richem IN YOUR FACE wasn't a movie, but that performance was definitely worth it. The heartbreak of Tiffany, his love for Amy despite her unfortunate face, and the wheelchair that he'd taken from a child in the street to portray the lengths he would go to for love. Everybody in the funeral cried, he could tell. It was no wonder – who could possibly hold a straight face after that? He could, of course – but he'd come prepared. His pockets were lined with onions – to add to the effect.

“Please make way,” he called as he slowly wheeled himself along. Slowly because it was severe agony just to move his fingers over the wheels. Oh, what an assault he'd suffered. But that was a wonderful thing about fights on the show – any outcome would work perfectly for him. If he lost, he could present the audience with a display of absolute sadness, and if he won he was the hero they all loved. Either way, he was certainly a winner. And Poor Tiffany would just have to suffer the hatred of his fans from all over the world. But there was still hope for her yet – they'd spend that special night together eventually, and then he'd break up with her in a fit of heartache and rage. It would be beautiful. The plan would work in the end!

When Travis heard the screams and the crowd gathered in the doorway of the coat room, he couldn't help but laugh. “Yes, that is my designer jacket in there,” he said as he wheeled himself over. “Isn't it gorgeous? I can understand why you'd all scream and cry over such a marvel. But you musn't touch it. It's allergic to poor people.”

He could only wait as the sobbing, screaming and gasps continued over his jacket, but Travis was a patient and handsome man. He thought the extras were overreacting a little bit, but it was no matter. Eventually he surged forward, jabbing people with his wheelchair to get through.

And then he saw it. He screamed. He screamed for much longer than his shock lasted. But drama was always necessary, and he needed to be heard. He tried to rock his wheelchair left and right so that it'd fall over, but that failed so instead he turned himself to the left.

“Nobody was aware of this, but...” he paused, taking a sniff of the onion in his shirt pocket and teared up. “But... that young boy – Markus – was my brother! I just couldn't hold back my horror when I saw him in there. I was completely overcome by grief. There was nothing like it. I couldn't do anything but sit in my wheelchair – that i've been placed into because i'd been assaulted – and cry. Just thinking about it now makes me remember the time when Markus would try to kick animals in the street. I'd stop him of course – animals are the greatest creatures I have ever encountered, and I couldn't possibly stand to see one hurt.”

Travis hated animals. They were ugly, annoying things and completely pointless in his eyes. But animal-lovers were always popular. And he was the hero once again – saving his brother from a life of animal abuse when they were young. He was a credit to reality television.

And then the coat room door was closed. That was a shame – such a missed opportunity for him. He could have cradled his dead brother in his arms and sobbed for hours. Tiffany would have been overcome with regret at playing hard-to-get for so long and repent on the sadism that she seemed to love so much. She'd even told him that she swung 'the other way'. Travis wasn't sure what difference that made, or what a swing even had to do with anything for that matter. He swung whatever way happened to be the closest when he approached the swing set. Maybe she was trying to tell him that she had high standards. And who was higher than Travis Richem?!

[Avery]

Bea wished she could feel better at the note Sister Lucille pressed into her hand, but thoughts of refilling her special cabinet seemed suddenly... less important, in the face of this second death. Bea hadn't known Christopher well; she would not pretend otherwise. But... he was just a small thing, a teenager, not more than a few years younger than her sweet Kylie. And as the boy's frantic ghost began screaming that no one should eat his body (the hell? Who would eat a body), Bea couldn't but keep her eyes just about latched on to Kylie. Afraid that if she blinked, her daughter would be gone...

(just like before-- just like...)

No. As Kylie tried to comfort Bea, the woman swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat. She couldn't break down here, not in front of so many people.

"We should go back to the inn soon. There's only so much we can do here. Or at the very least, we should go somewhere quieter. And... pray."

Bea nodded. "Yes," she said, as the "reality star" started claiming that Christopher was in fact called Markus... and was his brother. Dear lord, Bea could not handle listening to him right now. Noticing the way her daughter had paled at the shrieking specter, Bea reached out and set a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Back to the inn sounds good," she said softly. Then, to Sister Lucille: "Please, if you'd like to come with us, Sister, you are more than welcome. But if you have other business to tend to first, well-- I shall be okay if you come by later to share with me your prayers."

As Bea started out, she heard Piper Boudreaux murmur to the florist, Miko, that someone had stolen the urn. Bea's stomach did another twist. Who would steal an urn? The answer came to her more quickly than she would have liked: the same sort of people who would murder a child at a funeral. Yes, she and Kylie needed to get out of here soon. And... Sister Lucille. Bea suddenly felt sick at the prospect of possibly leaving Sister Lucille alone with these people, some of whom were most surely murderers. Because protecting Kylie was Bea's first order of business, but Lucille-- if Lucille died, then... tears pricked in Bea's eyes, but she blinked them away.

"Sister," she said, turning back to the nun. "I-- I really feel that I am in need of private prayer and reflection. Would you please come with my daughter and I now? I would... so appreciate it."

[Diana]

Winston watched as one of the NPCs broke down into tears and started monologuing about his now-dead brother.

He didn’t like this uneasy feeling. It gnawed at his gut like the one time he’d eaten a four-day-old slice of pizza, and this time he didn’t have any healing potions on him to make it go away.

If he’d started the quest yesterday… would this have happened? Was this Mass Effect 2 all over again, where he’d been on a time crunch without even knowing it – and if he failed, all his allies died? Granted, he didn’t really have any... allies in Aifam Cove. His strenuous lifestyle didn’t leave him with much time for friends. But the town loved and idolized him for his role in keeping them safe. So for this to happen…

Had he failed at being the hero?

No. No, that was impossible. If he’d failed, well, that was Game Over, and he’d have just restarted at a previous save. Bad endings were a thing, but the game itself could never devolve into a dark AU in the middle – and this was most certainly not the end of things. There’d only been two cutscenes! If this had happened, then clearly it was supposed to happen, no matter what he did. This… Matt? Marc? kid was obviously going to die on the second day as he searched for clues to the killer’s identity, thus proving that the first lady’s death wasn’t a one-off event and ramping up dramatic tension.

It was a scripted event. It was going to happen no matter what he did.

It wasn't his fault.

He glanced back at the NPC, who was still caught in a heartfelt display of hysteria.

Well. Interaction was one of his least favorite parts of the job, but if there was ever a time for heroic gestures, this was it. (By the Outsider, the guy was in a wheelchair. Clearly the scriptwriters had intended this as a cry of weakness and a plea for aid!) So he steeled himself and clapped a hand on the NPC’s shoulder, breathing in the stink of heartwrenching despair and onions.

“So, dude. I’m very, very sorry your brother has caught a bad case of the dead. But that’s okay now! Because I’m the hero, and I’m going to find whoever’s behind this. And then there’s gonna be an epic boss battle. You can come watch if you want.”

[Celestial]

Sister Lucille stood in the crowd for a few moments, accepting what had happened and waiting for others to try and do the same. Time did not stop just because of what happened to Christopher, as insensitive as that sounded. They could not spend time mourning him when his killers were still out there and they had to be found. The crime scene had to be investigated too and it was best that the professionals dealt with it.

“Wait – wait a moment. Sister, couldn’t the people who…couldn’t the Abominable Aifam still be nearby?” asked Cheryl, the reporter. Lucille swore under her breath. Of course they would be. Nevertheless, she turned to Cheryl.

"Do we have any leads on who they might be? No, the crime scene must be investigated first," she pointed to Jack Ryan already poking around. "Abominable Aifam is most definitely nearby but we do not know who they are and there is no point keeping everyone here until we have weeded all of them out. Therefore, we must carry on, somehow, while the investigation continues."

Suddenly, she heard screaming but it was not the normal kind...it was otherworldly, ghostly in a way. And it sounded like Christopher. She bit her lip as she listened and prayed to herself for his soul so that he may find rest. People had already gathered around him so he was getting all the comfort he needed for now. Perhaps she or one of the other sisters could find him later, if he stayed in the church, and speak to him about finding eternal rest within the loving bosom of the Weewoo. His cousin would look after him, she knew that, but nevertheless, she turned in the direction of Christopher's ghost...or where she thought he was. She could not properly see him, nor did she confess she wanted to. She wanted the child to be at rest now, after all the horror that had happened to him.

"Nobody is going to eat your corpse, child, don't worry. We shall find whoever did this to you," she gave him the most reassuring smile she could. "Perhaps you could help us? Do you know who did it?"

She gritted her teeth at the sound of the reality show star going on his delusions again but she heard Bea speak to her too. Perhaps it was best. Business as usual...Lucille always had the business to take care of. She could fall back on that.

"Of course, Ms. Devon, I would be glad to provide you with some relief in these uncertain times. I will come wih you and Kylie while my sisters take care of the rest of the funeral," she nodded and stepped out of the church with them, heading towards the beach. However, she stayed closer to Kylie than to Bea, almost resisting the urge to take her hand. It was wrong to think of romancing anybody as these deaths kept happening...but perhaps that is also why Lucille wanted it. She always found somebody after a dangerous event in her life, such as a police investigation or a goverment crackdown or her entire stock being lost in a storm or due to merpeople. It helped her feel more alive. This was no exception. Kylie would help her feel more alive...and perhaps she could give Kylie the same service.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

"DID THE DOOR JUST SHUT WHAT DID I JUST SAY" He screamed frantically.
That sounded like the door.
THE DOOR WHERE HIS BODY WAS.
NOW HE WAS GOING TO CARRY IT AWAY AND IT COOK IT AND GIVE IT TO THE SURVIORS AS FOOD AND EAT IT AN-
Ok, wait no he wasn't.
BUT JUST BECAUSE HE WASN'T DIDN'T MEAN SOMEONE WOULDN'T.
"K-K-OTA" He screamed.
Then he felt it. The knife across his neck. The bear in his hands dropped to the ground and he cluthed his neck. There was nothing to clutch. He coughed. He could feel blood running down his neck, he could feel their hands on his arms. It was just as painful as last time. He tried to supress a scream but he couldn't. He screamed. He closed his eyes even tighter until it passed.
How many times was he going to go through that?
Was that a one time thing? He trembled.
It was really pathetic more than anything.

He had not signed up for the ghost thing and he wanted out right now. Who had said this was ok? He certainly didn't agree to this. Just because he was afraid of death didn't mean the universe was allowed to make him stay, that wasn't fair! Though life hadn't been very fair either.

There were so many people. And it just occurred to him none of them knew ghosts were real. Maybe he should have shared that information. There was a lot of things he should have shared.
Regrets were useless.
It was so crowded. He didn't like it. His eyes were still firmly shut.

Marcus? Ok, that was not right at all. He shakily got up. He didn't want to leave Kota but what the heck was going on.

"Umm... excuse me, Travis?" he started, hoping this wouldn't make Travis shriek, "My name's Christopher not Marcus and if I kicked animals I'm really sorry it was an accident!" He decided not to correct him about the brother thing. If he wanted to say that, then he could. It was kind of sweet even if Christopher had no idea who Travis was.

"Nobody is going to eat your corpse, child, don't worry. We shall find whoever did this to you," she gave him the most reassuring smile she could. "Perhaps you could help us? Do you know who did it?"


"I-" he stopped. Something had to be there, something. Breathing? All he could remember was his own. The hands? He couldn't remember what they felt like just the sharp pain. The footsteps? He still had a hard time deciphering footsteps from one another. He was a mediocre hearer at best. He wasn't even good at something he should have been.

"No..." he mumbled.
"BUT.." Christopher's voice got loud again, "DON'T HANG ANYONE OK?" His breathe got short (if he even had breathe), "THAT WOULD DO NOTHING OK YOU'LL JUST HANG SOMEONE WHO... who's innocent ok!" he was almost hysterical, "If you think about it... IT'S MY FAULT. IF I HADN'T COME HERE THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED ITS ALL MY FAULT HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME."

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Mrs. Fitzgibbon had run several blocks away from the church and several yards into sand before she realized something.

IT WAS COLD OUTSIDE.

She shivered, only just noticing how much the cold penetrated her somewhat-youthful bones. The scenery of the rocky-road ice cream beach often calmed her down in the wintertime but this wasn't nearly enough, especially with the cold and the coat left inside. There was no way around it. She would have to make her way back to the church. All of the shops were still closed because of the funeral, and while she would have liked nothing more than to purchase another pet fish to cheer her up and keep her company, she knew her presence was still needed at the funeral. Enna surely wouldn't like it if those who had attended fled for fear of their own lives. Anyway, perhaps the mafia had dispersed by now. They must have. After all, there was a crowd, and there was safety in numbers.

Alma walked faster, despite the pain in her lower back it was causing. She noticed Sister Lucille walking with Beatrix and Kylie, and didn't dare interfere. She gave the three of them a smallish wave and slowly crept inside, searching for those she knew.

Across the room she spied Lil--Ms. Parker. She was a bit of an odd duck, but a kindly soul at that, and was giving Christopher a teddy bear, which was, of course true to her natur..wait a minute. CHRISTOPHER?! He was...much lighter in color, and practically a doppelganger of the Christopher with the Ace card in his hand. Perhaps he was one of the legendary sea-ghosts, one of those sons of the air who had to do good deeds to get somewhere. Lynna was much better at remembering the stories Alma told than she was.

"Are....are you all right?" She gasped, immediately grimacing at the stupidity of her question.

Shaking her head, she turned and fetched her coat, wishing more than ever that Endre would come back from his home country of Ayortha.

"If you think about it... IT'S MY FAULT. IF I HADN'T COME HERE THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED ITS ALL MY FAULT HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME HANG ME."


Alma turned back around. "There now, child," warmth slipping into her shaking voice. Mother's instinct. "No one is going to--did you say HANG?!"

Alma gripped a chair to steady herself, worried about her own child and herself more than ever. "No one is going to hang anyone," she finished, more for herself than anyone else in the room.

(Elsewhere...)


I noticed something. I wasn't sure what it was. It was like a poison hovering in the air, and still affected me even now...I coughed, waiting for Miko to come back.

The door did not open.

I sighed, drooping, hoping she would come back. She'd seemed sad, sad enough to deny me today's water.

I coughed again. That always worked with her.

Nothing.

Reluctantly, I gave up and didn't bother to hold myself up, a drop cascading off of one of my petals. It was just dew, I promise. Just dew. Nothing more.

[Selm]

Time had passed in a blurry haze for Khiran since Enna's death. They had hardly spoken a word since they found her body, only mumbling half-hearted replies to the townsfolk that tried to comfort them and numbly making their way back to the Inn shortly after. They spent the remainder of the day isolated in the room Bea and Kylie had been kind enough to let them stay in after things had gone awry with their past roommate. At one point while Khiran lay still in bed lost in memory, the selfish thought crossed their mind that they at least might be able to take solace in the fact that Enna's death would take their mind off recent events; the fight that had separated the band and turned best friends into strangers. But as the day pressed on, they found not even this was true.

The band's breakup had without a doubt taken its toll on Khiran, shattering the dreams they had been building for nearly a decade with three of their closest friends and leaving them homeless. But then they had at least still been able to function, attending their classes regularly(well, as regularly as they used to, anyway), seeking odd jobs around town, engaging in friendly conversation with their fellow neighbours. Then, they still felt whole; they were lost, but still a part of the community. And they had Enna too look to for support and comfort.

But now, they felt a disconnect between their world and everyone else's. They felt dissociated from their body; it was difficult just to move their limbs. They didn't feel hungry, or thirsty, or tired. They didn't feel like listening to the albums that got them through high school, or practicing songs. They could not find the energy to do anything but reminisce on what used to be and what no longer was. The day Enna died was the first in years that Khiran did not pick up their guitar.

Bea and Kylie came home at some point—later that night, maybe, or in the afternoon, Khiran didn't really know how much time had passed—kindly brought them a plate of dinner and tried to talk to them, but let them be after they didn't respond. They didn't sleep well that night. They fell into brief spells of restless sleep where they were plagued with sleep paralysis and abstract, disturbing nightmares. They were able only to drag themselves out of bed in the morning to attend Enna's funeral service, although their emotional distress was visibly written into the dark circles and mournful expression of their face. Their voice was sore and heavy as they gave their speech, but they mustered all of their strength to deliver each syllable with the genuinity that Enna deserved.

It was Christopher's death that renewed Khiran's emotions. It was the sight of Christopher's innocent corpse, lying mangled in his own wet blood staining the floor of this tainted sacred space, which filled Khiran with a red-hot rage that was completely unfamiliar to them. They were not one to lose their temper, preferring to take things as they come and keep a level head in times of conflict. But it was an entirely different matter when it dealt with life and death. Whoever these people were that felt they had the right to take away life at their own leisure, they would be found out. And they would be stopped.

They stormed out of the church amidst all the chaos, having noticed Lindsey slip out a few moments before. They thought they might like to take her up on that tea offer now.

***

They'd been counting on Lindsey being at the cake shop to take some time alone, but when they arrived, there was no one inside. A sign that read "HELP WANTED" hung on the door, and Khiran felt a sharpness tugging at their heartstrings. They'd have to talk to Lindsey about applying for a job there. It would be strange being there without Enna, but there was something about following through her footsteps that made them smile. It was almost like they'd be honouring her memory, in a small way. And they couldn't keep living off the kindness of Bea and her daughter forever, anyhow.

They stood at the storefront for a few moments, gathering their thoughts. Perhaps it was best for them to head back to the church; it would be better for them to be around people right now, and it would be better for everyone in town if they all stayed together. They'd run into Lindsey eventually.

[Pixie]

As soon as Lili was certain Christopher could speak with Dakota, and that he could have the teddy bear, she backed away through the door frame. It was a desperate moment between family members that she didn't want to interfere with. When she took a quick second to rub her eyes and to see if the whole thing had been dreamed up or hallucinated, he blurred away. The ghost didn't disappear, and instead became a teddy bear suspended in mid air, indented by a young teen's hands.

She was trying to find a good, logical reason why she should be able to see the dead boy's ghost. Yes, she had put on a show as a psychic, but she hadn't actually any supernatural abilities. Her performances never brought in the spirits of deceased relatives, however. Brought up front with death, people became upset. She liked to observe her surroundings and make sense of things. She saw his ghost, but seeing ghosts didn't make sense. She wasn't a religious person, and had previously believed that death was the end of one's consciousness. She couldn't decide which view was more favorable. The existence or absence of an afterlife? It was a grim sort of accounting she hadn't thought of in awhile: not comforting nor logical. She was interrupted with the weighing of benefits and concerns of all the afterlife models she could think of, when Christopher's voice grew audible from where she stood. She returned her focus back to his spirit as his details formed themselves back into her view.

Lili heard the cries of a ghost boy who had wanted to die- a boy who forgave the Mafia who had given him a painful and premature death. He wanted peace, and for the mafia to end the deaths with him. Peace, the same as Liliana wanted. She was a woman who disliked conflict, but she had to be realistic. She didn't think if the mafia where still there, they would heed the cry. If they had killed the shy blind boy, then what empathy would there be to hold them back from other targets? Who would be their next perfect victim? By her quick calculations there was a 38% chance that one of Abdominal Aifam was among them. If it was Abdominal Aifam at all, and not a false lead set up to put the blame on them and take advantage of the Mafia scare. She had to stay alert; that was all that she could to do to protect herself from whatever was taking innocent lives.

Then Christopher shrieked about his corpse, afraid the Mafia would eat it. Grotesque pictures floated through Lili's mind. Before she knew Travis was there. She listened, distressed, as he shouted about some boy named Markus, who was his brother, and a wannabe animal abuser. That deluded man must have been thinking that Christopher was Markus. It was the most unfavorable timing for his attention-seeking antics. Just as Lili was at her wit's end, A nun came over and comforted Christopher and asked him practical questions that Lili was eager to have answered. She vaguely remembered her name to be Sister Lucille.

Christopher had began to shout things that sent chills rippling through her body. His thoughts seemed to be halfway between suicide and martyrdom, and he already had perished. With his desperate thoughts came a plea to not hang anyone. Had this been something he'd witnessed before? Certainly, Liliana Parker didn't want anyone to die.

She then spotted Alma. Inside the main room, her friend seemed to be trying to comfort Christopher too. She thought back to when Lynna went missing; she recalled the devastating fear, the frenzying worry, the binding love, the unfounded regret, the felt emptiness, that had affected her dear assistant and friend.

Lili couldn't help but wondering how much of Lynna Alma saw in Christopher, and what would happen to herself if Alma became lost too.

[Killix]

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(Sorry for the continuity errors, it takes a long time to draw these. XD)