The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.
This basement is only partly below ground level, and there are windows evenly spaced on the walls, right below the ceiling level. The main part of it is a large open area with a small kitchen in one corner and a large, ratty carpet in the center, covering the cement floor. There is a rather large window in the kitchen; it looks as though it might actually open onto the street. On the wall opposite the kitchen is a large bin, and there are folding tables along the wall perpendicular to it. On the other wall there are a few folding chairs, many fewer than one would expect from the number of tables.
A hallway next to the kitchen leads off to two offices and what once might have been a classroom.
Stretching a good quarter mile from the road, this gravel lane leads back to the Escrowe farm. Trees line the lane, new leaves shading the skeletal leaves to a soft grey-green. In the distance, the farmhouse looms above the treetops, gleaming white as the snow from its yearly coat of paint. Silence prevails here, save for the rustling of the tall grasses in the fields when the wind blows.
The front entrance to the farmhouse is on the porch alongside the gravelled road which continues on around the eastern side of the house back to the barnyard. The opposite end of the lane turns back west to empty out onto Sunrise Road.
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
At first glance, this run-down efficiency seems barely lived in. The door opens onto a nearly empty living room, painted institutional white and containing only a lime-green couch with fuzzy yellow pillows and an oak coffee table. It is reasonably spacious, and is obviously intended to be the main room of the flat. The current light fixture is a hanging industrial fluorescent, which gives the room a slightly unhealthy, antiseptic feeling, unmitigated by the ancient blinds covering the windows. The left wall from the door shows signs of a mural in progress, though the faint pencil lines leave the intended design still unclear.
To the right upon entering is a small kitchenette, with barely enough space to stand between the stove and refrigerator on one side and the sink on the other. A boom-box style radio relaxes on the counter, broadcasting soothing celtic music. Just above the sink is what little cabinet space can be had. There is a small dining table and chairs right outside the kitchenette, defining an eating space.
Just past the kitchenette, still on the right, is the bathroom, then both bedrooms. Between them is a small coat closet, empty except for a surely breeding collection of wire hangers. The door to the closet is perpetually ajar, as it doesn't seem to want to latch properly.
All is quiet in the church. What little lighting there is casts long shadows over the pews. A lone figure set in one of the more distant benches, asleep, it would appear, from this vantage point.
Kaz says ".... an' it was just like in the fuckin' cartoons, y'know. Like Wily E. Coyote an the Road fuckin Runner? Good God damn did that bastard run." The wounded metal post clangs when Nevada kicks it, the wounded stop sign vibrating with the force. "I don't know what the fuck it is. All the assholes in St Claire come outta the woodwork durin the full moon, or what?" The youth swipes a hand through his dirty hair, taking the steps two at a time. The door is opened for the other Galliard."
The metis grins at Nevada. "Thankee, good m'sieur," she mutters, and heads through, a small bag in hand. "Yeah, full moon just fucks everything, that's all. Kinna makes life more interestin', though..."
The faint smell of burnt gun powder lingers in the air, slowly wafting away in the drafty air.
Outside the church a fairly familiar rumble-putter churns to a stop, And shortly thereafter Matt and Bernie push into the room, bearing bags from his restaurant.
"I'm all fuckin' for life bein interesting," Nevada's saying as he follows her in,"But I need hosers annoyin the shit outta me like I need a fuckin hole in my head."
"...so we decided," Bernie's saying as they enter, "what we oughta do was make this big stamp an' get some red ink, an' do it that way. So, we go get th's stuff, an' make it, an' then head over to th' club where th' guy hangs out, y'know?" She trails off, seeing her packmates, and flashes a grin at them. "Hey! 'sup?"
Kaz cranes around to call, "Yo, it's the Decadencers!" She frowns faintly as she heads further into the room, and gives the figure on the pew a narrow eyed look. "I dunno, Bern, we just been findin' out that the full moon makes everyone in general into putzes." She's still looking at the pew, though.
The outline in the pew doesn't move, slumped over against the flattened wooden end of the bench. A semi-automatic pistol lies a few feet from an outstretched hand.
Matt shrugs, shifting his burden. "It doesn't take a moon fer that, Tens. Bloody Ravi's everywhere. Frow a rock, you'll 'it one."
"Hey, guys," Nevada greets, wiggling his fingers in a wave. "Somebody say somin' about a club?" he asks, thumping his way up to the balcony.
Kaz gravitates slowly toward the sleeping individual, only 3/4 listening to what's going on, now.
Bernie giggles, shifting her load so she can wave back to Nev, and nods. "Yeah... I was tellin' Matt 'bout what Collin an' I did th' other night; it was funny as hell, I swear..." She starts toward the basement door.
As Kaz gets closer to the figure, a horrible realization dawns. To the left of the figure, the wall is sprayed with a dark color. The figure is still and motionless. From a neat hole in the right temple, a trickle of blood makes its way down the figure's face and neck. The other side is still out of direct view.
"Holy sweet fuckin' Jesus Christ on a pogo stick." Kaz stops short, and just stares. "You -- Shit." Her eyes have gone a little wide.
The old balcony creaks. "What is it?" Nevada, edgy enough already, appears over the railing. "You all-- " That thought isn't finished.
From above, the entire scene can be viewed. The cub lies across the pew where we was apparently sitting. A few feet from his outstretched hand, his gun lies. One side of his head is covered in blood, as is the wall behind it. From the basement, only the outline of the figure is visible, though you can see the speckled wall from there.
Bernie pauses, opening the door, and turns to look back at the others, attention caught by their reactions. She stops short, eyes widening behind her glasses, as she takes in the various clues.
Kaz squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head a few times. "Jesus fuckin' christ kid, couldn't you fuckin' /wait/ a coupla days?" she eventually whispers. Then she says, explosively, "/Fuck/."
Nevada has vanished from the railing. The stairs thump hard. "He gone?"
Bernie stays essentially still, almost frozen, though her eyes drift from the outline of the cub's form and the light and dark of the wall up to Kaz, almost as if awaiting a verdict, though it seems unlikely there could be any uncertainty.
Kaz takes about three steps toward him, and crouches down. It only takes her the space of about four of her own breaths to determine whatever it is she's trying to determine, and then she rises again. "He ain't here no more, yeah." She lays a brief hand on his head and then she's turning away. "Shit. We needa..." She trails off, as she stares at the wall. A lot quieter, she says, "We needa do some shit, people."
Nevada swings down the aisle, lowering as he approaches the body. He's down in a crouch, beside Kaz, his hands reaching out to touch for a pulse. None is found. He grabs a hank of the boy's hair, turning his head so the gunshot wound can be seen. Brain leaks out at the rough jostling. Then, the Galliard's up, drawing back, looking not disgusted or angry, but completely devoid of expression.
Nevada starts to laugh. It's not a right sound.
"...I..." Bernie starts, voice dazed and rather faint, as if it were coming from a long way away, "....I'm going to... take these downstairs..." She moves, now, opening the basement door and making her way slowly down that stairs with her boxes.
Kaz says, grimly, "Yeah," to Bernie, and then gives Nevada a long look. And then just shakes him, once, briefly.
Nevada laughs helplessly, even as Kaz shakes him. It mutates into some strange kind of giggle, and then outright hooting.
[Forgotten Church Basement]
Matt is busily refilling the fridge with styrofoam boxes. His back is to the stairs, and he seems blissfully occupied with his work.
Though she was right behind Matt as he headed for the basement, Bernie doesn't join him there for at least a couple minutes. When she does, she seems to be on autopilot. Down the stairs, set the boxes on the counter, start packing them neatly in the fridge. She's completely silent, and almost expressionless, except that on close inspection, her eyes don't quite seem to be focusing on what she's doing, but some point in the distance beyond.
Matt leans over to her, "No, luv, don't put those in th' icebox they'll...hey. You awright?"
Bernie blinks, and looks at the box she'd been putting in the fridge, reading the label written on the top. "...oh," she says, softly, and turns, putting it back on the counter. The next box, she reads before putting it in, to be sure it belongs.
"Books?" Matt stops putting boxes away, leaning against the counter and frowning at her in concern. "Whot's goin' on?"
Bernie continues putting boxes into the fridge automatically, though at least still checking the labels, now. She doesn't say anything at first, long enough that it's just beginning to seems as though she won't, before her voice comes, still quiet and far away: "Upstairs."
Matt nods, agreeing that there is one. "Yes. Upstairs. Somefin' happen? You look shell-shocked."
Bernie's eyes close as she puts another box neatly atop the last, edges and corners lined up perfectly. "Rotem," she says, voice still soft, controlled, and not quite all there. "He's dead. I guess. I mean, you don't live through that. Not if you end up all over the wall. I assume that's what's on the wall. I didn't go look close." She's speaking too slowly for it to be properly considered babbling, despite the train of thought, and the tone is emotionless... not quite flat, but almost. She keeps moving boxes. Boxes belong in the fridge.
Matt's jaw drops, and he has very little to say. Then he comes up and hugs her from behind, saying nothing, just holding. Comforting.
Bernie pauses, finally, hand still on the box, trembling a little as it rests there. Her eyes close, and she swallows once, head tilting down. It's quite a few seconds, maybe as much as a full minute, before she lets herself relax briefly back against him. "I still hoped..." she murmurs, almost inaudibly, "...I mean... I shoulda..." She presses her lips together, and stiffens a bit, again. "I should," voice slightly stronger, but forced under control again, "go help. Up there. This is done." And it is; the only boxes still out shouldn't be refrigerated.
Matt holds her tightly. "Fings 'appen 'ow they need to, Books. Go, help. I'll finish down here."
Bernie turns around, and gives Matt a fierce hug before she nods once, finishes collecting herself, such as it is, and heads back up the stairs.
[Forgotten Church]
Nevada crouches by the sheeted body, his arms bloody up to the elbows. His expression is cold like a tombstone. "Burn. Dump. Bury. Sink. What are we looking at, here."
Kaz looks at the sheet. She, in fact, glares at it for a moment, and then says, as if making a decision she's going to defend to the death, "Bury. We're gonna take him to the Mounds."
The basement door opens again, and Bernie emerges from it, seeming not quite as much on autopilot as before, more determined, but still not completely in herself. Her jaw tightens a bit as she lifts it and makes herself walk over toward her packmates.
"Car's out back," Nevada says, mellowly. "He can ride in the trunk. Get his legs."
Before Kaz lifts anything, she asks Bernie, quietly, "You -- at least kinda ok?"
"At least kinda okay," Bernie echoes softly in reply, gaze travelling over the sheet. "So how can I... I mean do you need any... should I do something to help?" It's almost her voice.
"It's the middle one," Nevada says, tossing Bernie a ring of car keys. "Leave the door open when you're out." He takes hold of the sheeted body's upper half.
The metis looks at Bernie, studying her, and then evidently decides to accept that as an answer, as she takes hold of the bottom half, and, once the Ragabash moves, follows her out.
Bernie nods, and starts to go, then pauses, catching sight of something familiar under the pew, toward the end. She leans down to pick it up; Rotem's backpack. She stares at it a second, then slides her arm through the loops and heads out of the church to find the car.
[Lane]
The ride has been quiet. For once, the radio wasn't ear-bleeding in volume, only a barely-there murmur. The Mystery Machine added its own putter and metallic creakings as an underscore. Now, it grinds up the road to the farm house, pulling to a stop with a crunching of gravel. The engine dies out, and Nevada unbuckles, opening his door.
Leaving the Mystery Machine there, Kaz and Nevada haul the body into the woods. Once there, Kaz grunts once, shifts into glabro, and just takes him herself. It's a fairly long walk, and branches seem to get in her eyes a lot, but she doesn't seem to have any problem with it. Once they get to the Mounds, she lays him by what turns out to be Jabs' gravestone, and crouches for there for some time.
Nevada, trailing slightly behind, crunches out of the woods and onto the Mounds. He's in the process of wiping blood off on his shirt.
Bernie crouches down beside Kaz, and then, when her legs start to hurt, lower, sitting crosslegged on the ground. The backpack ends up in her lap, with her arms loosely wrapped about it.
Kaz says, looking at nothing in particular, "We'll have to tell folks. So we can have a Gatherin'."
"...yeah," Bernie agrees, after a moment. "Tonight? Or tomorrow? Better be soon, I guess." Her gaze is fixed on the sheet, it looks like, though probably not, strictly speaking, looking at it.
"Isn't a Gathering to /honor/ the departed," Nevada's low, cool voice comments. He leaves it at that for the time being, standing at the fringes of the Mounds. By no means does he come closer, or even dare look in the direction of One Rage's grave.
Kaz looks up. At Nevada. "Maybe I'm deluded. Maybe I'm wrong. You can tell me better than I can. But he was one of ours. And he didn't let /us/ do it, at least. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I think he's worth honorin', even if in doin' that, I'd also wanna talk about why he /wasn't/ gonna work as a Garou."
Nevada tries to think up something nasty to say, right then. He comes up with only: "Aren't we disgraced enough?.... fuck." He pushes a sticky hand through his hair. "...tying up loose ends. I know."
Bernie continues to sit still, silent, for the most part. She does, quietly and apparently addressed to Kaz, though she doesn't change her focus, say "I don't think you're wrong."
The metis shakes her head. "Personally, I think the only disgrace would be to drop him as if he'd meant nothing to us." Still crouched, the only indication she's heard Bernie is that she leans slightly toward her.
Nevada's hands find their way into his pockets. He just shrugs.
Bernie just nods once, otherwise staying as she is and has been. After a couple minutes, she asks, "..so. Tonight, or tomorrow?"
Kaz thinks. "Tomorrow. Gotta get people comin', an' we can't do that if it's t'night."
Nevada turns, wandering off in the direction of the forest.
Kaz asks Bernie, "Come with?"
Bernie nods. "Tomorrow," she repeats, agreeing, and looks from the sheet down to the backpack in her lap. She nods again, looking over to Kaz, now. "Yeah. I'll come with."
Kaz's gaze drifts to nothing in particular again. "Good. 'Cause, um, I don' really wanna be copin' alone, here."
Three-Blades pads towards the burial area slowly, finding the scent on the wind to be less than pleasant. Her body shows signs that she ran most of the way, as she breaks through the brush and stops at the sight and smell of the others. An ear flicks to the covered body.
Bernie is sitting crosslegged on the ground beside Kaz, Rotem's backpack held loosely in her lap. She shifts over closer to her packmate, unwinding one arm from the bag to give her half a hug, instead, and glances up as she catches Three-Blades' movement from the corner of her eye. "Yi," she greets the wolf, quietly.
Kaz is still crouched, but leans against Bernie as Bernie ropes her into a hug; at Bernie's greeting, she looks up. Quietly, she says, "Hey."
Three-Blades dips her head to the two, surprisingly unmourning as of yet. It's hard to mask feelings in lupus though, and her approach to the body with head low and slow pace is telling enough. How did you find him?
Bernie sighs, and pushes a curl back behind her ear. "It wasn't hard; he wasn't hiding," she replies softly, "he was just there..."
The metis swallows. "An' the gun was there. Still is. We found him -- We found him after he did it."
Three-Blades' ears tilt back into the fur. I smelled fear.. and another. He wasn't alone. Her nose twitches as she sniffs the body under the cloth. Still, he could have done it. Her lips peel back. It shouldn't have been this way.
Kaz slowly starts to stare at Yi. "/Who/?"
Bernie blinks, and stares at Yi as well. She's sitting crosslegged beside a crouched Kaz, with one arm around her in a half hug, and the other loosely around Rotem's backpack, which is in her lap. In front of them is, one assumes, a body, covered by a sheet.
Three-Blades tilts her ears again. Certain lords of the shadows. She glances over at Bernie and Kaz. I won't assume anything, but his scent was around too. What about the ~gun~?
Kaz stumbles slightly on her words. "I didn't fuckin' -- Check." She waves a hand Citywards. "It's still there." Gently, she takes Bernie's arm off her back, and then shoots to her feet, pacing. "But -- Jarred's been around a lot, lately. Ain't he?"
A small, sandy wolf slips out from the forest, her eyes distant and wide, her ears turned forward. A scent, she's following, down to the clearing where she stops, a foreleg raised to look down into the clearing at-- Her ears turn down, flat, her tail lowers, and she slinks down into the clearing. Wide gold eyes glance to the sheet, the body beneath.
After Anneka walks in, for a few minutes, the entrance is relatively empty. And then Adam appears. Not by magic, as that's not his Auspice, but by simple walking. He tilts his head to the side, regarding the Gnawers, making notes that he has met all of them at one point or another.
Bernie returns the arm to loosely rest around the backpack, like the other, and her brow furrows as she considers this. "Well. Could you tell... like... how recent the smells were, Yi? I mean, 'cause you musta smelled me an' Kaz an' Nevada, too, but we were later..." Apparently this thought has distracted her back somewhat closer to her normal self, as letters and syllables start disappearing again.
Three-Blades tilts her head towards Kaz, wondering what she is thinking before chuffing to Bernie. The scent was fresh. But that doesn't mean anything... her ear tilts towards Anneka and Adam, followed by her gaze. She chuffs a couple greetings.
Adam is standing at the entrance, and bows his head respectfully to the others. "Good evening," he says, quietly, as if the solemnness of the place infects him on contact. He lifts his head, and unconsciously brushes his hair from his eyes again.
Kaz shoots a rather wry almost smile at Anneka. "Hey, kid." Then she gives Adam a surprisingly polite nod. "Yo."
Alicia heads into the burial mounds after catching news from Nevada, a faint sigh brushing across her lips. She has, in her hand a candy bar that she dug out from the farmhouse. Stepping up in stride next to Adam, one hand brushes along his shoulder.
Rides-the-Wave hunkers down, tail low. Yellow eyes, suddenly tired, draw up to Kaz. The scent of the body she knows, but why-- not yet. The cub is quiet, still, shadow to counter sandy fur.
Adam looks over as his cub comes out of nowhere, and he gives ehr a quiet smile. "Is something wrong," he asks, the the group as a whole.
Kaz explains to Adam, "We, well. Rotem went'n killed himself. Well. We assume." She shoots a look at Yi. "So far. Anyway, so I dunno if Elan'll do a Gatherin' for him, but if he will, well, we wanted t'bring him over here. See."
Three-Blades gives her fur a shake. She clearly doesn't approve of any suicide, and the body under the sheet just reminds her further of a different ahroun. Her ears tilt back to hide themselves in her fur. But she offers Alicia a short chuff to greet her too.
Adam chews on his lip. "I...am sorry, Kaz," he says, and looks a little embarassed, besides being wildly outnumbered. "Your loss is great, especially if it was by his own hand. But...I cannot say whether Elan will do a Gathering, as that is a tribal matter. But, he cannot be buried in this place."
Rides-the-Wave glances over towards the body, then closes her eyes tightly. She remains where she is, not far from Three-Blades.
Alicia sighs heavily again and steps past Adam after giving him a brief hug around the waist. Approaching the body, she kneels down and plops the candybar down next to him, muttering a soft prayer under her breath. With that out of the way, regardless of Adam's decision, this is how she grieves.
Bernie sighs, and her arms tighten a little closer to the backpack in her lap. She pushes a curl back from her face again, and then sits up a little straighter, glancing over toward Adam.
Kaz turns so she's facing Adam more than Anneka, and just regards him quietly. "Whyzat?"
Adam takes a breath. He's not angry, but there is a sadness that permeates his words. "For long before I came here, this place was a site to bury those in the Sept who have died fighting the Wyrm. It may sound cold..." He shakes his head. "No, it does sound that way, but this is a different case."
Three-Blades suddenly growls lowly, rising up to her paws and stalking off a short distance towards the brushes edge. The situation is just making her uncomfortable, the full moon adding to discomfort, but the newmoon stays. He died in the ways that fullmoons die when they have dishonored their tribes. Here is to revere the dead for their past glories against the Wyrm, not for mourning cubs who couldn't take it anymore. For the Garou who was defending this cub's right to live so fervently just nights before, she sounds awfully cold and bitter.
Kaz asks Adam, entirely serious, "Is JJ Malone buried here?"
Rides-the-Wave tenses, shying away from the spot where Three-Blades stood, then stands as well, eyes wide and watching Adam. Her ears are turned back still-- she didn't hear this right.
Adam thinks on that. "The GlassWalker," he asks. "I believe he is," he relates, "after suffering injuries on an Umbral quest with Ouroboros. A Rite of the Winter Wolf." He asks. "Is this the cub Elan has mentioned he would cull?"
Alicia glances over to them after she finishes with her soft words. Standing, she makes her way over to Bernie and wraps her arms around her best friend's shoulders.
Kaz says, "This, yes, is the cub we were gonna stick in the sewers so he could go out fightin' like he ought to." Her smile is nothing resembling amused. "Apparently, he couldn't wait. And he sure the fuck didn't do it under no Rite." She sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Jeezis Christ."
Bernie leans back a bit against Alicia, still silent. She's not crying, and she doesn't look as though she has been, but she does look partially shut down.
Adam sighs quietly. "You see where I am coming from, right?"
Kaz takes her hand off her nose. Just as quietly, she says, "I do. It just hadn't... occurred to me. You're not bein' an ass, y'jus' doin' th' right shit, is all. Don' worry none, hey?"
Three-Blades paces along the edge of the brush as Kaz was doing earlier. Her growls are kept low, just voicing her complete disapproval of this death. A tail lash here, an ear flicker there, Yi's mind turns it over again and again. This just isn't the way it was supposed to be, but...
Alicia runs a hand through Bernie's hair as she supports her, sighing softly. Leaning forward, she nuzzles her cheek against her friend's, tightening her hug.
The sandy wolf glances towards the body, ears flat and chin lowered, then slips low along the grass to hunker down on her haunches near Bernie and Alicia. Kaz catches her attention, though, and she looks to her.
Adam gives Kaz a grim smile. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be Adam, I am apt to believe. Again, my condolences."
Kaz sighs. Any other time, she'd poke at that first statement. But all she says is, "Yeah. Thanks. We'll bury 'im somewhere that ain't here, t'morrow."
Adam nods solemnly. "Understood," he says, and starts to back away.
Three-Blades finally sits down, wolven eyes glaring at the body for a few more moments with ears tilted into her fur. As her eyes raise to look at the others though, they soften a bit.
Kaz's attention drifts, slowly, to Anneka.
Bernie nods once, slightly, and shifts a bit, as if considering moving. Maybe standing. Something along those lines.
The cub's ears are flat against her head, her tail low and curled along her haunches. Her eyes dart once to the body, then back to Kaz and down to follow her lowered muzzle. Just a glimpse of those eyes, the veiled emotion behind them. No words.
Alicia squeezes Bernie once more and stands up, letting her go. Perhaps its best she leaves them be, this is a...tribal thing..
Kaz gives the cub a long look, then just nods slightly. She heaves a sigh and then sits down, crosslegged, chin in her hands, about equidistant between Bernie and Anneka.
Bernie glances up to Alicia as the cub stands, and gives her a small, weak smile. "I'll come visit soon, yeah?" she says quietly.
Alicia nods her head and leans over, planting a soft kiss to Bernie's cheek, softly whispering. "Yah, do that... um... compound.. please. Luna be with you." With that, she turns and heads out after Adam.
Anneka's form blurs along its edges, then more as her limbs stretch out, fur fading for skin and clothes. It's odd, perhaps, that in changing her countenance remains the same, her eyes veiled as she looks to the body, to the sheet covering it in folds, looks hard in the way that suggests she's making herself do it, her jaw clenching under pale skin. Then she looks away, to the forest where Adam stepped into it. The veil about her eyes parts then, a little, and she slouches, just brushing Kaz, looking over to her.
Kaz reaches up a hand to encircle Anneka's lower back, entirely silent.
Bernie just stays where she is, watching the sheet. "Is there," she begins quietly, after a bit, "...Is there something you're traditionally supposed to do with someone's Stuff?" 'After they die' goes unspoken.
Kaz shrugs, just slightly. "Sometimes, I've buried it with folks. Sometimes, I ain't. It's kinda depended on, well, how me'n the folks that knew 'em felt about it."
Anneka has slowly, very slowly, leaned more towards Kaz. An inch, perhaps, though she's still curled up, drawn inward, her eyes still pools. She's turned her head slightly, towards the others, listening.
Three-Blades stays in the more feral form, but a soft whine does escape her. She gets back up, and trots over to the other Gnawers to be among the smallish circle of her tribemates. Where are we going to bury him?
Bernie nods, still holding the bag, and considers. "...do we have any options?" she asks.
Kaz, as Anneka inches closer, tightens her grip subtly. It's a slow sort of encouragement, but it's there. "I was figurin', well, woods. 'Cause, y'know. Don't know any places in th' city that wouldn't, y'know. Ask questions and shit."
Three-Blades' ears tilt back up. What about burning the body? She glances around at the others, a little unsure of her suggestion.
Anneka draws a pale hand up to brush her tangled hair from her eyes, then pulls herself a little closer to the small circle. "Burn," she says, her voice whisper-faint. There's a subtle nod, her chin lowering.
Bernie's brow furrows at that suggestion. "...I don't know. I'd rather we went with burial. But. At least do we do a gathering anyway?"
Kaz says, "/If/ Elan'll freakin' do one. I can't promise nothin'. It just... seemed right. But I'd rather go with burial. Fuck, I mean, I'll do th' work, ain't no big thing."
Three-Blades glances over at Kaz. One and one. What would he want? The wolf's eyes peer down at the covered corpse. I only suggest it so we could keep his memory in the Scab. Maybe spread the ashes in the ~park~ grass, or somewhere. But the woods is good. The woods would be closer to Gaia. She stands up slowly and backs off. It is up to the Big Dog. She turns, and paces off to a side. Then she slips off into the brush, silent like the still wind.
Anneka hunkers down a bit, drawing closer to Kaz, then whispers. "I can-- help. To bury him, to--" She closes her eyes tight for a moment, then looks to Kaz.
Bernie runs a hand through her curls, and stands, stretching out. She crosses her arms through the straps of the bag, and paces a bit. "Me too," she adds quietly, "...obviously."
Kaz leans into the cub. Quietly, she says, "Yeah. OK."
Shadow Eyes ghosts out of the trees, a soft wind heralding his approach.
Bernie continues to pace slowly, a short trek back and forth in straight line, parallel to the body, and behind Kaz and Anneka. Her own backpack is on her back, the other hangs from its straps over her crossed arms.
Kaz raises her head as Elan comes into view. "Hey." She sounds entirely subdued, unsurprisingly.
The sandy-haired cub takes a breath. Though slow, it catches a few times, and she shivers faintly. Then, she pulls herself up, though she doesn't draw away from Kaz, looks to Elan as Kaz does. She whispers a faint greeting to the alpha wolf.
Shadow Eyes thought he smelled tribemates here. What is going on?
Bernie nods quietly to Shadow Eyes in greeting, and continues to pace, biting her bottom lip lightly. She seems, at present, to be thinking more than anything else.
Kaz explains, removing herself from her lean somewhat, "Rotem." She jerks her head toward the sheet. "He 'pparently," she adds, with a tired kind of anger, "Went an' killed himself." She sighs. "We ain't gonna bury him here or somethin', but... Can't do it Citywards, hey? An' -- Well. I'd do a Gatherin' for him only I dunno the Rite. So... You willin'?"
Shadow Eyes is willing, yes, he says after moving over to sniff the wrapped body. He cannot lie here, though. He was given the chance to lie here in peace, but now he will wander as a mad spirit, more than likely. Perhaps the Gathering will let him lie in peace.
Kaz nods, minutely. "Yeah. Groundskeeper said anyways. We're gonna do it in the woods a bit. I figure, we c'n do th' thing t'morrow, lemme get folks rounded up so they can know it's happenin' an' all."
Shadow Eyes will do it when you can gather the tribe. He shakes his ruff and sighs. I did not think he would do this, but...
Kaz says, "Well. We c'ld do it after Moot Wednesday..." She hesitates, and then adds, "Yi smelled Jarred nearby. But, I mean. Jarred hangs out there a lot."
"You could see if maybe a rat or somethin' saw what happened," Bernie pipes up, and then pauses in her pacing, "I mean. I guess then we'd know for sure, yeah? If any did."
Shadow Eyes's ears perk up. He was teaching the cub. His scent will be all over him.
Kaz blinks slowly at Bernie. "Yeah. An' hey, we got me, Talks to Rats here... I'll do that. Once I'm not wantin' to kill random things that move, I mean."
Bernie pulls a hand from the bag to run it through her curls again, then returns it. "So. All right. There's that, an' Gathering either t'marra or after th' moot on Wednesday..." She's obviously starting to recover, if only slightly, from the shock, since she's losing letters again. "...a'ight. You'll let me know, right? I think... think maybe I'm gonna... go back now. Yeah?"
Kaz says, "Yeah. Ok. I'll... See you back there. I gotta take a run. An'... stuff."
Anneka twists about, turning to look at Kaz. She has the looks of someone who, in the midst of all of this, has had her world made stranger: She'd watched detective shows on television, a few, but never one in which a truth might unveiled by asking a rat what had happened. That sort of look. She blinks, once. "Rats," she says, faintly-- then glances to Bernie, her thought unspoken for now.
Shadow Eyes agrees. I need to return as well. I will see everyone at the moot of our tribe.
Anneka draws herself to her feet, slowly, looks to Kaz and then the others. Faintly lost, this cub.
Kaz says, "Yeah," vaguely. Refocusing slightly, she asks Anneka, "Come with?"
Bernie nods again, and looks to the cub, giving her the ghost of a smile. "A'ight, then." She glances to the sheet again, eyes staying on it for several seconds, and starts to walk.
Anneka nods slowly, brushing dirt from her hands as she turns to follow Kaz.
[Bohemian Decadence]
The door's locks seem to undo themselves almost simultaneously; there's no pause to move the key from one lock to the other. Ergo, it's someone using Open Seal. The door swings open to reveal the obvious suspect, a rather tired-looking Bernie. A backpack that isn't hers hangs off one forearm as she closes the door behind herself.
Matt sits on the sofa, quietly folding laundry and listening to Enya on the stereo. He looks up as the locks throw themselves, and sets the shirt he's folding aside on top of the pile.
Bernie relocks the door, and wanders over to the sofa, setting the backpack she's carrying gently beside the arm, and her own a bit less delicately beside it. The jacket comes off, dropped carelessly on the arm, and she sits on the couch beside Matt, leaning silently over against him until she's almost lying in his lap.
Matt puts an arm around her, hugging. "Oi know," he says.
Bernie works an arm between Matt and the cushion so she can encircle his waist, and sighs softly as she cuddles in. The hand across the front moves long enough to pull her glasses off and set them on the coffee table before she rests against him again, and closes her eyes.
Matt pets her, quietly, running a hand over her hair and leaning back to rest against the sofa, holding her.
Eventually, she gets around to crying. Still very, very quiet, more a leakage of the eyes than any kind of cathartic sobbing. She holds on rather tightly.
Matt squeezes. "Shh. It'll be okay."
Bernie sniffles softly, and eventually says, quietly, "It shouldn't... I mean I hoped... he..." She trails off, giving up, and sighs. Lifting her head a bit, she leans up and gives Matt a very light kiss.
Matt returns it. "Oi know. You tried verra 'ard, Books. 'e joost couldn't 'old 'is piss. Makes me sad, too, an' Oi didn't even like th' little wanker."
Bernie sighs, and doesn't comment. She stays where she is, silently, for a while longer, and then reluctantly untwines herself and sits up. "Think I'm gonna get somethin' to drink. Or somethin'."
"Bottle o' Jameson in the cupboard," Matt recommends, quietly.
Bernie stands, and nods a bit. "That'd work," she replies, and heads over to retrieve it. Glasses, too, as an afterthought. Everything ends up on the coffee table, next to her glasses, and she takes a moment to remove her boots.
Matt lets her go, and sets the laundry on the floor next to the coffee table. He's already shoe-less, and he busies himself clearing the coffee table for serious drinking.