Mis-Fortune

Fortune · La Fortuna

Mis-Fortune

Hazardous · Hazardous to your Heath

From the darkness she watched the proceedings, remaining apart from the activities of the people who had come to see this girl child off and into oblivion. Why had she come? Even she wasn't sure. Human death meant very little to her, as was evident by the cold hearted way she had gone about extinguishing the revenants. Not concerned with saving human lives, only with minimizing the damage to her Masters reputation. Yet somehow she had felt that she should be witness to the final send off for the young woman who had looked at her so curiously while she lay bleeding to death.

Dual colored eyes watched as the visitors made a loose circle around the tombstone, the scent of flowers cloying on the air around them. It seemed the small human girl had had quite a way about her to attract so many people from different walks of life. Humans, lycans, vampires....there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the people who had come to bid her farewell. No tears welled in her eyes as she watched the proceedings. A healthy respect for death was something she had, but she was not emotional about it. Merely accepting of the inevitable.

At her side Whisper was fiddling with the newspaper where a story about the event had been written up, complaining about the fact that Edens role in it hadn't been noted. With a shake of her head she reached to pluck the paper from the diminutive sidhe's hand. Folding it calmly she held it in the fist of her pale skinned hand.

((newspaper article: http://www.activeboard.com/forum.spark?forumID=103649&p=3&topicID=29533251 ))

"It's as it should be."

She had left the bar purposefully before the authorities could get a look at her. Being questioned, or having her name revealed wouldn't have been good for her Master Tino or for her own secrecy. The secret of her existence was something she tried to maintain close to her at all times lest the government who had created her be alerted to the fact that she was still alive. Perhaps it was that secret which had brought her here today.

Eyes well adjusted to seeing in the darkness looked across the long expanse of grass and tombstones to see the girl Evie. The only one from the incident who she had spoken to. The human girl stood among a group of werewolves, and that made Eden all the more curious. Her own inner beast urging her to join them, but she denied it with the cold clarity of her undead side and remained atop the mosoleum where she and Whisper had taken their perch. At that height they could see and remain unseen themselves. Not that that was ever a problem for either of them. Whispers shadows did the job for them.

She watched the girl with her wolves, and thought that perhaps she should redouble her effort to contact the Ulfric. But before she could give it any clear thought, music began, and she could hear voices speaking their goodbyes. The informal service had begun, and the always silent vampire lowered her head slightly out of respect for the dead.

-- Edited by Ashes Of Faith on Tuesday 21st of July 2009 02:48:05 PM

Brother of Stone · Frere de Pierre

For days after Kalika had made her appearance he had been brooding, lying in wait for the vampire goddess's arrival and listening with boredom as his sister yelled at him about the dangers of the woman. But all that changed when a phone call came from the local hospital. Fortune, his sisters petite artiste, had died. Immediately after being told Aurora fell to the ground and for a moment Caine remained in his seat on the couch, drink in hand, watching her body sahake with sobs. What was he to do about such a thing?

Responsibility and Caine went together like oil and water, but as he rose from his seat and moved towards the fallen chordless phone something outside his normal laziness took over, and with a command not usually his own he spoke to the doctor. relating bits of what had happened to his sister he kept a hand on her shoulder, and once he was done with the doctor he had sent her to lay down. Nothing could be done for the girl now.

Arrangements were made to purchase a plot of land, for the creamtorium, for the services. Caine sent money and made orders without thought of the costs. That was typical for him. He'd always left worrying over finances to Aurora. He just spent the money and enjoyed the day. Large expensive bouquets would be brought to the site the day of the service, and he arranged for all the final wishes that Fortune had wanted were tended to. In short he did all the things Aurora would have done, and he did it without complaint. No doubt he would go back to being himself again once his sister recovered from anger and shock. And hopefully no one would be the wiser about his momentary lapse of irresponsibility.

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Shiny dress shoes sunk into the well tended grass of one of Rome's most prestigious cemetaries as he and his sister made their way from the town car and across towards the tombstone that had been erected in Fortune's honor. The statue of a pixie had it's hands lifted as if in prayer, and in those hands was held the container of the photographers ashes. People were filing towards the gravesite, and though Caine knew some of them, others were complete strangers to him. Gem bright yellow eyes looked from person to person with a curious heat in his gaze. Already his old ways were reemerging.

His black slacks and black dress shirt looked stunning against the tan of his skin, and he looked almost too delicious to be allowed in such a sacred place. The cheshire cat grin on his luscious lips almost sacrisanct in a cemetary. He was probably lucky that he didn't get struck down by lightning. Auroras hand had a slight quiver to it where she was holding his arm, but for once he didn't say a mocking word towards her. Even to him the time seemed wrong for such a thing.

Music wafted on the air and he enjoyed that. Music was always pleasent. Letting Aurora's arm slip off of his after she took her place at the graveside he moved towards the statue. From around his neck he unlooped the strap of a camera and hung it around the stone pixie's neck. For a moment the statue was the very image of Fortune, cast eternally in glorious stone. Letting the camera dangle there against the statue his hand rose and caressed the rough stone cheek of the pixie.

"Vous etes petit artiste manque." You are missed little artist.

Stepping away from the statue he went to his sisters side and waited for the rest of the mourners to gather. No doubt words would be said and afterwards the gargoyles had rented out a private room at Bliss for anyone who wanted to toast the departed and drink the sorrow away. His thought in that moment was a sad one, that he had never had a chance to talk the artist into his bed. And that thought alone showed that through the sadness, Caine was and always would be no more and no less than the cad that he was.

Ashes Of Faith · Lukois' Lucifer

Though there was certainly some anger and worry for Evie rumbling around in his head, it was sadness that prevaded the emotions of the pack house that day. Many of them had known the young photographer in one way or another. Had seen her around town. While Ashes own association had been very loose he felt a welling world of darkness coming from his ties to Evie. Her sadness was his, and he felt it as acutely as if Fortune had been closer to him than she was.

Standing at the front door of the pack house he heard the crunching of gravel as the black limo he had rented pulled into the driveway. There were so many of them going to the graveyard that he had thought it would be appropriate to rent a car so that none of them needed to worry about driving or parking. Lifting an arm he tugged back the black suit jacket he wore to have a look at his watch. The car was right on time, but the women were late.

"The car's here."

Shouted towards the stairs up towards where Evie, Loke, and Llydia were getting dressed in funeral clothes. The four of them had known the girl, but anyone else in the pack house who wanted to attend had been invited to join them. The pack mourned losses together after all. Once he got everyone out the door he locked up the house with a sigh. There had been too much death, too much loss. And the weight on his soul was getting heavier.

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Standing at the gravesite he was surrounded by his people, felt their beasts, and off in the distance he felt the muted sound of another wolf. For now though he laid that aside. This was not the time to think about rogues. Ash held Evie's tiny body beneath his arm, her shaking sobs pressed into his side and he let her do as she pleased with his finely tailored jacket. Sure that it would be soaked before the end of all this.

Caine and Aurora he knew, and when the B movie actress Agnes joined the group at the cemetary he gave a stoic nod in her direction. Surprise lifting up inside him at the variety of people that Fortune had called friends. All around there were people, all from different places in the world, all there to pay tribute to this astounding artist who in one way or another had touched their lives.

This is why I hate them Evie. Because they can't help but be what they are.

And there it was. That rage inside him for things just like this. Revenants came from vampires, vampires were the enemy. Things like this only managed to fortify that belief in him. His hand clenched into a fist as he tried to put a barrier between himself and Evie, not wanting their anger to feed off of one another. Someone began to speak and Ash paid attention, happy to let his mind concentrate on something besides the leviathon of rage inside him.

A darkness seemed to settle around him that had to do with more than just the black on black suit he had chosen for the occasion. It ate at his darkly dreaming mind and had his lightning kissed blue eyes smoldering. Energy, ripe and strong, poured from his skin and bit at his arms and he wasn't even aware of it until Llydia reached out to touch him. Looking to her, their eyes meeting for a moment he took a deep breath.

I'm sorry.

It was all he could say.

Evie North · Telemetric Trickster

In the end, Evie had had to tell the medical examiners that she was a rare breed of lycanthrope, one that couldn't infect others with their blood. That didn't exist, naturally, and she wasn't a lycanthrope, but it was easier to say that than, I'm healing so quickly because I'm the human servant to a very powerful vampire. The EMT's attitudes had changed significantly; they treated her like a dangerous wounded animal, rather than a human being. Oh, she'd keep her anger at bay, for now; if they didn't get the glass out of her, her skin was going to heal around it. The glass from the tables had bitten into her forearms, knees, and most disturbingly, her hands. They had been forced to take off her gloves, despite her somewhat desperate pleas that they leave them be. Seeing the horrors of an ambulance was the last thing she needed after witnessing the living nightmare in Mamma's. They didn't listen. In the end, she was forced to see in her mind's eye nameless horrors gunshot wounds, car accident victims, blood and gore and death, all because of the grip of hands, the work of tweezers, the cool metal touch of the gurney. The bastards threw her blood-soaked gloves away, leaving her to ball her fists and to her best not to touch a goddam thing.

She should have had a broken neck, or a concussion, but no. Before the nurses in the ER's eyes, her cuts were slowly closing, the enormous bruise on her face beginning to fade just slightly. She spoke to no one other than to ask, "Where's Fortune? Is she okay?" The news came later, when a kindly intern sat across from her and informed her in broken English that the red-haired pixie had passed away.

By the time Ash picked her up, she'd gone into a state of numb shock. Tear tracks had dried along her cheeks, grey eyes bleary and aloof. He didn't yell at her, even though she could feel his anger and worry through their lines. He was kind enough to simply take her home and let her lie in bed for what seemed like an eternity.

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The day of the funeral had come, bringing out all manner of creatures to celebrate and mourn the life of the spunky red-head. Barely a word had left her mouth since the incident; she was still too upset, too angry, too devastated to really deal with it. Oh, she wasn't screaming at the heavens or drowning herself in bottles of Jack ... although a bottle of wine had gone mysteriously missing from the pack house kitchen. Dressing herself in a black dress that she intended to burn once this was done, she had made her way into the car without a word, a distinctive air of vibrant energy around her. Shielding others from emotions as strong as those she was experiencing could, at times, make her feel as electric as a light socket. But it was better than unleashing the hell in her heart on everyone else.

She hated, hated the fact that she couldn't stop crying. Standing with so many different people, friends and otherwise, her heart breaking, all she wanted to do was turn away. Ash's jacket would have to do, hiding her face as she kept her sobs to a silent minimum. Aurora, Caine, the wolves ... even vampires had come to pay respect. Fortune had been a genuinely good person, a light in their lives ... and Evie hadn't been able to save her. She'd tried, but not hard enough. People, good people, had a tendency to die around her, while she walked away with healed skin and bones. You couldn't even tell by looking that she'd been both victim and witness at the revenant attack. Perhaps that's why there was so much anger bubbling beneath her skin, rolling and moving, threatening to expand and destroy her. Oddly enough, she felt more in tune than she had in quite some time with her Ulfric brother. This is why I hate them Evie. Because they can't help but be what they are. Oh, she understood that. She'd seen the carnage before, seen the death and destruction, but Fortune was innocent. As good-hearted as they came. A wave of indignation and righteous rage swelled, pressing against her shields, but in the end she held them back, taking a deep breath to steady her. The man was talking, usic was playing, but she could only hear bits and pieces, static through her silent, constant river of tears. For the first time in a long time, Evie wanted to kill something.

-- Edited by Evie North on Tuesday 21st of July 2009 04:09:19 PM

frost · Ice Queen

Charity .. or, Frost, as she preferred, wasn't sure why she had chosen to come to this little memorial service, aside from the obvious fact that Caine had invited her to come. She hadn't known the victims, but she supposed there was a part of her, deep within her, that cop side, that felt obligated, even if it hadn't been partly for the invitation. As a cop, she had been bestowed with the responsibility of protecting and serving. And perhaps it was the very failure to protect the lives of those who had been attacked that caused her to attend.

After telling Caine that she would be there, and that she would catch up with him at the service, she made her way quietly to the cemetary, clad in a simple pair of black slacks and black shirt. She wore her gloves over her hands -- had done so ever since the night she had accosted the purse nabber and almost killed a man. Her gloves wouldn't come off without good reason. Thus far, she knew of only one man who could withstand her cold touch and that was Caine, but she wasn't even sure if she considered him a good enough reason to take them off any more. Unguarded with him made her less guarded. She had used her powers in attempt for good, and it had almost backfired on them all.

But this service wasn't about Frost or her dilemmas. As she arrived, she stayed back, allowing those who were actually mourning to approach the gravesite as close as they did. Graves were something Frost saw on a regular basis, but seeing people actually gather to mourn, it was another thing entirely. She saw Ash, whom she still thought of as her boss, probably because she still worked with him, his friends .. family. She also spotted Caine with a woman .. though she had yet to meet his sister, so she didn't know that's who he was standing with. A part of her wanted to go over to them, but that meant going closer to that which was dead.

Still, because Caine was one she cared about, and because it would have been rude not to go and stand with the man who had invited her, she took the steps towards them, moving to stand on his other side, a cool hand pressing against his arm, meant to be a comforting gesture. Even with the gloves, even wearing clothes, Frost radiated with coolness, an almost unnatural sort. She said nothing, because she didn't know what to say beyond using that one gesture to let him know she was there .. and if, indeed, this was a loss for him, that she was sorry for his loss.

-- Edited by frost on Tuesday 21st of July 2009 05:18:08 PM

Baroness DuMorne · Demonic Nobility

Rowan was lounging by the pool when the maid brought the news paper and a cup of freshly made coffee to her attention. As per usual the paper was filled with stories and facts Rowan couldn't possibly give a shit about, until she saw a headline that actually got her to look twice. The media kindly sensationalized the whole thing to a point where the Baroness wondered if people would still leave their homes at night or stay in and baracde the doors and windows till enough time has passed for the, ahem, "streets to be safe again." Once she was done with the news, Rowan tossed the paper aside, surely the maid would pick it up and put it in recycling later.

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The package that arrived was waiting for her on the dining room table when Rowan, pleasantly warmed by the sun, decided that it was finally time to start the day. The envelope was thick, padded to protect the contents. The return address wasn't a familiar one to Rowan, so she had the maid open it while the Baroness watched from across the room. When nothing went boom and the maid remained in one piece Rowan sent the woman away and retrieved the contents of the parcel. A photo...of her and the longer Rowan looked at it the stranger the photo became. What started out as shock turned into full blown laughter as Rowan glanced at the address again. Now she remembered, the little photographer, Varrick's pet human. Hmm, she wondered why Fortune had chosen to sent the photo now. When the Baroness lifted the envelope, as mall piece of paper slipped out, floating gently onto the dinning room table to proclaim to the world the reason for the package being sent. It wasn't till Rowan picked up the phone and called a few places to confirm an inkling that she had the maid retrive the news paper.

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The cemetery had an odd feel to it. Emotions of all kinds clung to the place, littering the air with their ethereal smell. If Rowan could she'd have held up a handkerchief to her nose just to blunt the metaphorical stench. Instead she settled for a veil. It was black, hid her features not at all, but went so perfectly with a small black hat that in turn went perfectly with a small black dress that hugged her figure like something illegal. Rowan had parked the car far from the ceremony itself. One thing she didn't need was to watch her step as she traversed the spaces between graves. The gathering at Fortune's grave was larger than the Djavo had expected, it was kind of a surprise. Shifting her purse under one arm, Rowan freed her hands to hold a single red rose. It wasn't as gaudy as a bouquet of them (she and Fortune were not that intimate with one another) nor was she a Wreath of flowers person. A single flower was enough.

Fortune was dead, not like she'd care.

In fact Rowan didn't know why she did. The little Photographer proved useful once upon a time and to say that Rowan's world was altered with her passing would be lying, but there she was. Maybe to make sure the girl was indeed dead and if she had passed on the negatives of Rowen's photo to anyone else surely they'd be at the funeral. Looking away from the grave itself, Rowan's attention focused on those around her. Lycans, and humans and strange things galore. Fantastic.

theDEVILyouknow · Papa's Got a Brand New BAD

It seemed as though Gabriel had been in Rome for years. Already, he'd become accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the Italian city, weaving in and out where he chose, having himself some fun along the way. He hadn't ventured into Vatican City yet, but that would come soon enough as well. Gabriel had big plans for this city and destroying as many lives as he could in the wake of those plans.

Today, though, was not about destruction. At least, none that had occurred at his hand, a fact that had annoyed him slightly. He had no problem with the evil of the world, except when he wasn't there to watch something happen or to cause it to happen. Perhaps that was the reason he was drawn to this makeshift little gathering, mourning a photographer that had looked like she could've been broken in half by a regular human being, much less anything dark and twisty.

He was dressed in a dark suit, though this was more of his normal attire than anything else. Ask Gabriel to dress in a pair of jeans and he would probably argue. Ask him to don a perfectly tailored Armani suit? He would gladly, and then probably offer to be the person's slave. Okay, maybe not so much that last part. In any case, hands had been tucked neatly into the soft pockets of the suit as he stood there, leaning against one of the trees that was close enough to see, smell, and hear the goings on, but not so close that he would be caught as the interloper.

He could feel the varying powers of those around him, his lips curving into a smirk as he felt the very same power of that bitch of a vampire that had punched him in the Hookah place. Eyes didn't seek her out, but it amused him that she was there, for whatever reason Gabriel normally found merriment and amusement. He also felt the tendrils of one of his own kind, a kind that he normally despised unless he could use them. Half-demons were fun to play with when they could agree to play nice, but he hadn't found a single Djavo who hadn't been batting for their own team -- themselves, and more to the point, he hadn't found a single creature of his kind that knew what the word 'humble' was. So yeah, fun to work with, fun to wreak havoc with, but when the lights went out, Gabriel hated the pretense and posturing that often went on.

No, he was content to watch the mourning, just observing for the time being, though there was a flash of light, maybe of obsession as his eyes found the human standing with the wolves. He wasn't positioned to where he could see her face, but he could feel the different energy mixing with the lycanthropes present. Interesting.

Mimic · What you see is...

Cemeteries, were always peaceful, quiet and people always left you alone, even when you were doing odd things… well unless you were trying to dig up remains, that is. You needed special permits to dig up the dead, though. The Grounds Keeper would chase her off when she came as a coyote, because he caught her digging up something the first time. Now he was weary of her, and kept his eye open, so now she only came as a human. It wasn’t that she was trying to be disrespectful, something had smelled funny in that grave, she had just wanted to see why it was different than all the others…. Her curiosity had gone without being cleared, but she had found a place that she actually felt comfortable at.

The gathering at the new grave near the willow, caught her attention. So many were there, and the power that sizzled in the air around it, was something to be remarked upon. In jeans and sneakers, she moved nearly silent on the narrow paths between the graves. The business vest, gave her jeans a respectable look, while her long tangled dark brown locks undid some of that air. She moved around the ones gathered, pulling buttons from her pocket.

She pressed one into each person’s hand. It was one of those metal buttons, that you pinned to your clothes, with something written on it. Mimic never looked at what it said, she simply placed them into the person’s hand, letting fate choose what each one would have. Eden was at the back, trying to be inconspicuous along side a very small woman. The button for Eden read “ Raar. I’m a sparkly vampire. Fear my Glitter.” The one for the woman beside her said “ I’m not short, I’m abbreviated.”

Mimic moved on, without stopping to see their reactions, as if she had not done anything at all. Her next stop was to Caine and his sister, All people that Mimic was not in the least bit acquainted with. She moved in a dazed way, as if she were more of a ghost than the dead that slept beneath the cold earth. To them she also pressed buttons into a palm. For the tall devastatingly handsome man, the button read “ It’s not that I have a short attention span, its jus--- OH! A Helicopter! “ The one for the beautiful sister “ Insanity is hereditary…, you get it from your siblings “ But before she wandered off again, another woman joined the couple and to her she placed another button, giving Caine a distracted wink. As muddled as her brain was, she still did notice the man’s appeal. The cold beautiful woman that joined the two would read in the button , “ Police station toilet stolen. Cops have nothing to go on. “

As she finally moved on, there was a familiar face. The man that was continually getting goo’ed when she spontaneously changed. A flicker of a smile crossed her lips, before she pressed a button to his hand. “ Do people in Asia get tattoos of English words?” The red head beside him, got “ Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?” while Loke she lingered for a moment before pressing the button with “ Dear Santa, can I have the numbers of the boys on the naughty list?” Evie was sad, then mad, and the rage battered at Mimic’s soul, not that she was an empathic, but some things you did not need to be to feel, she could smell the rage in her. To her she pressed the button that said “ Friends are like bras, close to the heart and always there for support.” When she got to the B movie actress, she stumbled a bit, almost dropping the button, and then continuing on, quickly before the letters could be read “ Being a Crabby Bitch is part of my Charms “

As the Baroness walked in all her elegance, in close completion with the siblings, she quickly pressed a button to her hand as well. “ I am not mean! I simply say what most people keep in their heads. “ There was a man leaning against a tree, not to far to the right, and she went to him pressing the button stating “ Some call it stalking, I call it love.” He had the same feel as the Baroness with her single rose.

With that she moved on to the statue of the pixie with the vase full of ashes. Lips pursed for a moment, and her now empty hand rubbed at the back of her neck, before shaking out the tangle of her brown hair. Her raspy voice finally sounded out, and it was harsh against the silence before the music started to play. “ We will find who wrote your name in the book, but turning into a bone is not a good idea when the puppies are hungry…. “ Someone had let her watch Death Note, and she was fascinated with names in notebooks, at the moment.

The Bitch Wolf · Big Bad Bitch

The shock of hearing Fortune had passed was a sudden one. One that left Loke feeling deeply regretful that she couldn't have helped the poor girl out more. Loke had so many things going on at once somehow Fortune had gotten pushed to the side. It was hard enough for a human to run with supernaturals but harder still to not be a part of that life.

She had watched silently as Evie had found out and cried herself out, feeling even more helpless. She could feel the grief radiating off of her and she had sought West out simply because he calmed her down. She hadn't wanted anything from him, just the comfort of being near him. Amazingly she had even stayed in the same room with him that night, curled against him, her dreams dark and vivid of poor Fortune. An over active imagination that went wild and thought of dark and desturbing ways for the human to have died.

When the funeral had arrived Loke dressed in her best black slacks and a black blouse, that black mane contained back in a clip and then plated down her backside. Loke felt every nerve in her being stand on end once the other supers arrived or once she felt them or saw them. However she was locked down tight behind those shields and her eyes gave away nothing as they sat behind thick black sunglasses. She stood just behind Ash, besides Llids. One hand touching Evie's back and Ash's hand around her and one hand outward to link her fingers with Llids. The touch of pack was beyond conforting and she needed it.

A large tropical flower basket overflowed with bright and colorful flowers and leaves, some brightness to the usual white and red that most funerals had. She allowed only a few tears to leak out beneath her sunglasses other then that she was clamed up tight. Eyes focused on the grave in front of them all and she too felt the burn of rage.

It never failed, the rage that came along not being able to protect her friend. Nose flared slightly as she inhaled trying to quell the anger with the smell of pack although the scents of so many others seemed to plague her.

Scream Queen · That Chick that Got Killed by That Chainsaw

Agnese was at the funeral, more than a little drunk and wearing her mourning black, with a lacy veil over her eyes. This could have been her very easily. Victim of an attack, taken too young and too soon, and she honestly felt that more than anything; the acute sense that she could be dead too. If Ash hadn't shown up... But Ash was at the funeral, and Agnese wondered if maybe he came to the funerals of all vampire victims. Would he have come to hers?

The actress stepped forward and tossed down a white rose for the best worst friend she'd had in Italy. They'd met a few times, they'd fought a few times, they'd generally had fun and embarassed themselves. It wasn't a bad sort of friendship, in its own weird way. "See ya around, Paparazzi..." she said quietly, then kissed her fingers and pressed them against the pixie headstone. Then, she left. Agnese wasn't much of one for long goodbyes, and she was no good at funerals.

Whisper · follow the whispers in the dark

Whisper mused to her mistress about the lack of credit in the newspaper. Soft little chatter of her voice. The newspaper was taken from her petite hands as she let Eden take it. The words as it should be had her head rising. Violent violet hues turning to look at her mistress. Swirls of silver flakes reflected pieces of a life she believed she had left behind. Whisper was sure that life was coming closer to her. Would she run and leave Eden behind? A pact she had made with the vampire made it nearly impossible to leave without being called an oath breaker.

"All I hope is that your master knows what you do for his city." The word master was said like a dirty thing. She minded her tongue after that. Eden would very know why Whisper didn't or couldn't come to care for the man Eden served. If Whisper had her way, she would have Eden in charge, or perhaps serve a better man. One bleach blond vampire came to mind. A smile wormed itself to her lips. A smug little smirk thinking of Azzy.

Turning away from Eden so she could not see the expression her blood doll wore. Eyes turned to the proceedings of the ceremony. She saw with the eyes of a fae. Seeing the unseen by other. Cool stone underneath her bottom. Legs to the side as she reclined on the top of the mausoleum. Long raven dark hair riddled with the multicolored strains that at one time had been pure silver curled the fae like a cape. She knew in a day or so it would be cut once again to the short frays she loved. For now, for tonight she let it be long.

Cast in shadows they were. Eden and her fae. Watching the scene playing out like an audience to a roman tragedy.

Sister of Stone · Soeur de Pierre

"You cannot go to her Caine!" Aurora's lips moved in anger, her voice barely a yell. Though all she wished to do was lock her brother in a dungeon till this woman either died or was killed. Turning away to the phone that rang. Aurora grabbed the cordless. Her eyes fixed on Caine as he lounged on the couch. Slowly her eyes that held such anger turned away, body slipping falling till knees connected with the floor. Arms wrapped around herself. Nails digging into the meat of her thin upper arms.

Aurora bowed her head, phone lay forgotten. The voice on the other end was speaking in Italian, saying hello. Sobs rocked her body. Anger swelled within her like a dark threatening cloud. Sadness caused the tears to fall like streams down her face. Makeup smeared her cheeks. She couldn't believe this. Her artist. Her prodigy. Gone, killed.

Barely even noticing Caine coming closer. His hand on her shoulder. She heard what had happened from her brother. His voice repeating what the doctor was saying. Soon her body was helped up. Arms moved so she could hold on to Caine as he guided her to the bedroom. After hours of tears, Aurora had found herself asleep. Caine, in a very unlike way had made all the arrangements and preparations for Fortune.

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A tremor moved through Aurora's arm. She had gotten dressed in all black. The dress paired with a suit jacket covered her form. Shoes polished black walked the distance to the tombstone. Eyes hidden behind the veil of large sunglasses. They looked the perfect pair of French Nobles. Attention turned to the tombstone that had been purchased for Fortune. Aurora's lips quivered as she smiled. It was beautiful. Arm slipped away from Caine. Watching him walk towards the stone pixie. The camera hanging from his neck transferred to the statue. Tears gathered at her eyes once again. A single crystalline one fell making a path down her smooth cheek.

Fingers gathered the tear. Turning to glance at all the people joining them. Fortune had such a way about her. It was no surprise at all that gathered at her grave site. Looking towards Evie. Aurora's eyes turned away soon after. She had given Fortune her protection. Evie was the one more closely tied to Aurora. Though what if something worse would have happened to Evie? What if she had died along side Fortune? What then? What Guardian was she?

West Larkson · Amber Eyed Cowboy

Death was some thing that the southern gent knew all to well. Having lost two wives, two unborn babies and more then a handful of family then he could ever count with two hands some would say he was a expert and one that should be use to death. How far from the truth the mere idea was. No matter how many losses crossed one's life the pain from it never got easier. A hard cold fact clear and never simple. West hadn't been in the room when Evie and Loke had gotten the bad news but like a shadow he had been around the area. Loke had met with the shelter of his arms as both him and his red wolf sought to ease her sadness. No questions had been asked while the cowboy held her and though his mind had questioned what had brought about her tears he had demanded no answers.

Long into the night he had kept vivid watch over her as he had held her gently against the wall of his chest allowing the smooth beat of his heart to sooth her troubles. In the morning the news of the woman's death had caught his attention and he knew with out even having to ask what had caused both Loke's and Evie's distress. Personally he didn't know this woman who was ironically given the name Fortune. But still he would pay his respects and be there for Loke. A woman who continued to etch herself into his heart. A feat at that since the hay seed cowboy hadn't planned on ever falling for another. Silent West had remained while they all got ready and he was not able to ride with them since he had a quick errand to run.

The errand consisted of gathering a mixture of roses and tulips. In the middle of the bouquet stood a single white Lilly. He made his appearance as they all gathered around to speak their last words and pay their last respects. Dressed in black from his head to his toes he looked quite the picture walking tall and sporting a black cowboy hat. The three o' clock shadow that so often covered his face was gone and the brown shaggy mane that was his hair looked as if it had been trimmed but once he turned it became clear that he had instead tied it back with a strip of leather. Most of it held back nicely except the bangs they drooped in a way ward cut and were now brushing over one of his chartreuse eyes.

As he drew closer he took the hat from his head out of respect and allowed it to hang at his side. His eyes were drifting from patron to patron and did not falter until they caught sight of Loke. Only then did he visibly relax and before he joined her, Ash, Evie and Llydia he plucked the lilly from the beautiful array of flowers and then bent at the waist to place the flowers near the grave stone. Slow strides brought him toward the Ulfric. A brief pause as he nodded a silent yet meaningful greeting to him and Evie. Then like a brush of wind he moved nodding to Llydia as well before finally slipping behind Loke. His wolf brushed hers long before a hand came up to inter twine the Lilly in the clip of her hair.

Loke's feelings of anger and anguish called out to him and though he had promised himself to give her space during the funeral he could do no other then to aid her. His every sense demanded it off him, he felt the need like a retching to his soul so with a careful hand he touched it first to her back then allowed it to rest on her shoulder.

theDEVILyouknow · Papa's Got a Brand New BAD

Evil and crazy, according to Gabriel, were two different things entirely. Evil was what he was. Or, what half of him was, and most of the time, he was able to keep that pesky human side subdued. Crazy was clearly what the button girl was. If she'd had any sense, she would have stayed far, far away from Gabriel, button or no. His penchant for destruction, although muted, wasn't completely diminished just because he was in a cemetery.

When he felt the press of the button into his hand, all it took was that brief moment in which his fingers curled around the button, slate grays darkening slightly. The touch of her skin electrified him, but not in the same way as passion might. And that was all Gabriel really needed. A brush of even fingertip usually allowed him enough of a chance to really fuck with someone, to read their emotions, to feel them. In this case, the contact had been too brief for a full read, but with darkened eyes glittering, he metaphysically pushed some of that inner hatred out of him and onto her, using his mind to direct the pure hatred. He was curious to see what effects the hatred might have on this unknown subject.

The dose he gave was small enough to take a minute or two to settle. He wished he'd had a longer grasp on the woman. Crazy she might have been before approaching the half-demon (at least in his eyes), but he could have done wonders for her sanity. Shame.

He realized, after a moment, that he held a button within his hand thanks to his lovely attempted victim, and he glanced down at it, holding back the dark laugh that wanted to spill from his lips. Dropping the button to the ground, Gabriel crushed it underneath his boot, or, at the very least, ground it into the mud. He pulled a cigarette out of his suit and lit it before moving away from the tree. He had seen enough -- for now. He remembered the slip of the human girl, the one that he would have loved to have broken, but had never been able to. Evie was a prize he hadn't forgotten about so easily, but he would forget her now, until he was ready to deal with the fact that his one true obsession was, once again, within those same city boundaries.

As he moved away, he passed the other of his kind, again holding back a laugh. He could read her a mile away, even without venturing to read her emotions. This one reeked of entitlement and self-satisfaction. He would have loved to have stayed and chatted, but he moved on, leaving behind just the barest remnants of that poker-hot hate that was his trademark. It was like the air around him burned with it, on some level, and he didn't bother to hide that as he walked by the woman Djavo. They'd get their face-to-face chance at some point.

MelAknomir · The Evil Twin

The ritual of humans burying their dead never ceased to amuse the undead sidhe. If they did it for a purpose, storing the meat for future use, then maybe he could understand the point. But there was no point. They just put the dead in the ground. Sealed them up in concrete tombs with nothing more than the clothes on their embalmed backs...for what? Cremation, that he could understand. Some magic users believed the ashes of the dead had potent magics trapped inside. Ceremonies that went with the burial of the dead? That was one human custom Mel'Aknomir never got nor ever wanted to. Silk at one point in time tried to explain to him that it was a rite of passage. That it mattered, provided closure to the loved ones, in turn he asked what happened if the unfortunately dead was hated by all? Making sure your enemy dead? That at least made sense.

When he read about the attack at this blues bar, Mel'Aknomir laughed. A lot and for a long time. Just imagining the looks of horror on the people's faces as the monsters came for them? Priceless. The only thing HE was sorry about was that he and his twin have not been there to add to he merriment. It had been a long time since they had loose among the mortals. With modern day law and the ever annoying technology, it was hard to really indulge one's vices in developed nations. You had to go East or South for that. People there understood fear properly. Still, the undead could dream... Perhaps that's what brought him out to the cemetery that evening. A little homage to the dead. He was the walking dead. He even rotted on occasion. The little gathering he stumbled upon was just the treat he was looking for. The vampire smelled all kinds gathered around the statue of a ... pixy? The artist clearly didn't know a Pixy from a hole in the head. The fangs were missing and the proportions were all wrong. If the little people knew how they were being portrayed...Disney deserved to burn in hell for his transgressions, but those were the thoughts of a creature who had left that world behind (even if it kind of set him up and all that) so they had no place. Artistic critique aside, Mel'Aknomir made himself comfortable by perching on an old tombstone. Crouching on the worn stone, wrapped in shadow, he watched the people wallow in their sorrow. It smelled like fresh blood and tears whenever the breeze, kindly, blew in his direction.

All that was missing was a full moon hanging above to illuminate the area for the added dramatic flare. God damn but Mel'Aknomir could be a romantic at times.

Frederick Saint · Child's Play

" Every time a child says I don't believe in fairies there's a little fairy somewhere that falls down dead. "

The boy whispered beneath his breath. The night was boring like it so often was, so the small devil thought he'd have a look around and can you imagine his surprise when he stumbled upon a passing of life. At first he thought it would inspire the dead of the night yet now as he sat on top one of the many gravestones that littered the cemetery he found himself bored to life. A fretful thought. to be alive again it made him want to hurl old blood. If there was such a thing as returning the dead back to their original mortal state.. Well then he'd prefer to have his eyes gauged out a million times over. Their mourning over the idiot that got killed made him want to laugh yet that would require stretching muscles in his mouth. Freddy looked the part of a innocent child but was far from it. He remained still in his sit, eyes were huge and hollow an burned a withered path in his pale snowy skin. Not a hair moved on his head as the wind raked over that delicate face one which was born with nobility stamped all over it.

Straight in posture and dressed like a prince he looked as if he was raining over a army of minions. The night was his friend and complimented him nicely with the twist of a shadow here and there. On his lap a rabbit rested it's content showed with the bending of it's ears. A hand feigned comfort as it stroked softly back and fourth along the bunny's back. He glanced at MelAknomir then he watched the Ulfric, watched the strange woman beside him and ever so often he glanced at the other vampire and her ?. Female companion, bitch , fae shit. Whatever you called the toy it was there at her side loyal and just plain pathetic. If someone needed a side kick that much they should just acquire a dog like Hades. Thinking the name had Freddie glancing to the prick at his side. The dog whined eagerly licking it's chomps as it eyed the dear sweet bunny.

The heart of the rabbit accelerated and that caused Frederick to grin slowly. The rabbit ceased all movement and appeared to be dead. A man approached the boy and voiced a question. " Is that rabbit alive? ".

" No, he's faking death.....=-A nod -= for tax reasons"..

The man backed up until his back met with one of the hard grave stones. He clutched at his chest and whispered dear god beneath his breath.

Eyes narrowed on the man...

" God is dead.. But considering the state man is in, there will perhaps be caves for ages yet in which his shadow will be shown.".

The man coughed and began wheezing. He stumbled toward the group gathered around the poor Miss Fourtune's death. He waved to them frantically and some how managed to stumble on his feet causing him to bump into the Ulfric of the wolves. The man grasped on to Ash and started to choke out help. Freddy tilted his head to the side and was pleasantly pleased with himself. This of course hadn't been a first for him, often enough people tended to go into cardiac arrest with out Freddy actually touching them so how could it be the kid's fault right?. Still Frederick fed upon the fear that flooded off of the man in waves.

" One way to compensate for a tiny brain is to pretend to be dead you know?, he's just faking it. What a thing to do in the middle of a funeral. Do you not have any respect for the dead?.".

It was spoken out loud but not to any particular person. He petted his bunny while the dog stated at him and when the whining started back up he hushed the large beast with a shake of a tiny finger. " You will ruin your dinner if you eat dessert first. But alas if you must..... have at it Hades. "..

The rabbit was grasped with a hand on each ear. He slid from the head stone and in doing so he yanked the ears back causing the skin to rip down the middle. Blood poured out as he tossed the skinless meat to the dog who took it in one bite. He was gone with a shake of the skin heading off and muttering something under his breath as the shadows embraced him.

" This will make some comfortable mittens ".

-- Edited by Frederick Saint on Wednesday 22nd of July 2009 02:55:11 PM

Evie North · Telemetric Trickster

The itching, scratching, clawing sensation at the back of her neck was only getting worse with every second of the funeral. There was something in the air that night, something she had ignored, written off as simply the energy of the cemetery. But, no. Something was very, very wrong here. Shifting uncomfortably, trying to shrug off the feeling of something familiar and something utterly unsettling, a gloved hand rose to wipe at her face furiously. I don't know how long I can do this, Ash. Maybe it was the fact that a young girl was dead, or the fact that some poor crazy thing was passing out buttons ... or the chill of dark power that seemed to press against her shields. Had that been there the whole time? Had she been so enveloped in anger and devastation that she hadn't sensed it before? Maybe she was the crazy one. Maybe cemeteries freaked her out. Maybe there'd been too much death seen and felt in her short lifetime.

... or maybe something was out there, waiting in the darkness.

Staring down at her button, a sad smile cracked her lips, bringing her hand to wipe again at the still-flowing tears. Oh, yeah. Evie was a great friend. Most of the people around her were usually victims of terrible crimes because of something that was her doing or something that she just happened to be around for, but hey. Take a number. She was always happy to fuck up more people's lives. Finding a new BFF would be easier for Paris Hilton.

It was only when her shields detected a sudden spike of power, a breath of rage, that her shitometer started to go haywire. Looking from the service, the telemetric empath didn't dare lower her shields; rather, she simply noticed what was battering against them. A glance over her shoulder caught the flicker of a lighter, the glowing end of a cigarette, and a face that she hadn't seen in years. Holy mother of God ... Could Ash feel the sudden tension flying through her, the utter confusion and disbelief? Could Aurora? Blinking, grey eyes agog as her jaw hung slack, her face whipped forward, tears forgotten in that moment. She'd lost her damn mind. There was no way Gabriel was in this graveyard, at this funeral, in this city. Nope. Nope!

Not long after -- maybe ten seconds? -- a man was crashing up to them, grabbing a hold of Ash like he was a lifeline. Stumbling back, gloved hands lifting to cover her mouth, the telemetric moved towards Aurora and Loke. The fear, the overwhelming ... even with shields up, she could taste it on her lips. He emanated it like radiation poisoning. Staring wildly into the darkness, not seeing the wraith presence of Gabriel but sensing the power of vampires much older than her short twenty-two years of life, Evie wondered if the Queen Bitch would be so heartless as to crash a funeral. The wind didn't feel like her, but Ms. North was tense enough to start seeing ghosts that weren't there. A burst of energy left her, aimed at the clawing human, trying to calm him, an emotion she found foreign but damn it if she wouldn't do her best to help. Something's not right, we need to get the hell out of dodge! Pretty much an open message to anyone her mind was connected to.

The Bitch Wolf · Big Bad Bitch

All Evie had to do was reach out to her and Loke was there. Her hand curled around the outstretched one and she stepped up. Not meaning to leave West standing alone or Llids for that matter but she took protecting Evie very seriously. Her shield where so tightly drawn around her she didn't feel anything, it was sort of like she was muting herself to stay in control. As the hand curled around Evie's hand she stepped up so her chest was against her back before she turned her away from the rest of those standing around the grave. It looked almost casual. Her hand and body moved in a graceful arc as she managed to get Evie between the safety of West, Llidya and her own body. A virtual pyramid of very dangerous people that would keep the telemetric safe.

Although Loke was facing Evie, her free hand reached up pushing the huge bug eyed glasses up to the top of her head, exposing her red tinted golden eyes. "What, what is it?" Spoken in a hush because she didn't want to disturb anyone else.

"Evie... I'm here, nothing will get past me to hurt you. Relax." Hands came up to cup the young woman's face as she made her meet her eyes. She waited till the girl's heart rate was not thudding like the boom of a passing car's base in her ears.