Mourning Me [Open]
Nov 5, 2013 5:23:40 GMT -6
Post by Audrey on Nov 5, 2013 5:23:40 GMT -6
A cold wind brushed through the air taking a couple fallen leaves with it. It was that ethereal period of the day, where the sun has set and gone, but the light of it still dwindles beyond the horizon, the time they call the twilight. The park was empty for the most part, everyone had gone home and was ready to tuck in for a movie or a calm night of reading. A couple people remained though, mostly rambunctious youth that dreaded the idea of the day coming to an end. One of these people was a teenage looking girl, or so the state of her skin and face would say. Her grey hair though was of a shimmering silver of someone incredibly beyond their teen years. It was difficult to tell if she was youthful looking elder or a teenager with some unfortunate genes. She remained alone in the cemetery close enough to the park to be considered part of it. While the park often had guests at any hour, most cemetery-goers took care of their business in the daylight hours for that oft taboo feeling of being amongst the dead in the witching hours. This ageless girl though was amongst friends, companions, compatriots. The people six feet underneath her had more in common with her than anyone who frequented the park. That wasn't exclusively why she would come here often though, and often she did come. There was a drive in her, a curiosity that perhaps one of these sculpted stones was the marker of her former resting place. The place from which she was so inappropriately exhumed and given marionette strings by some bigwigs wanting to cheat death but too afraid to test it on anyone they actually LIKED. Alas, she'd gone through every stone at least once by now and none of the names on them rang a bell. It really figured. It would be foolish to reanimate someone and leave to roam the place they actually used to live in with plenty of familiar sights to jog their memory. They probably shipped her from somewhere in Germany or Scotland, across the globe to this one place she'd be useful. An epicenter of villains and heroes duking it out.
Frustrated after going through the stones again, the girl sat down next to the grave of a Matthew Wilington and sighed. "It's tough times Matt, when a girl doesn't even have the right to know where she was buried or who she was. I bet you feel comfortable down there, rotting back into the earth in peace. Laid to rest after a literal lifetime of conquest, or mundane endeavors, or I don't know, a reign of tyranny? What were you anyway?" she pondered as she pulled out her phone and searched for the credentials carved into the stone. "Oh man, a pilot. You did well for yourself Matt. Probably had a wife and kids you provided for in money that you couldn't for in time and affection. Or maybe you lived alone, I don't know. By the looks of it, you managed to have some excitement at one point. Court case, Wilington vs. Troutman. I'm sure he was a jerk, you seem like a good guy to me," she continued almost serious in her confidence to her non-existent conversation partner. She put her phone away and sighed once again, leaning back onto Mr. Wilington's grave and looked off at the horizon where the last bits of light of the day were fading away. With a tinge of remorse, she began to stroke the device implanted into her chest, hidden beneath her white dress shirt and grunted as the touch plucked at her nerve cells. A cold reminder that Hephaestus had her trapped like an animal in a cage.
Frustrated after going through the stones again, the girl sat down next to the grave of a Matthew Wilington and sighed. "It's tough times Matt, when a girl doesn't even have the right to know where she was buried or who she was. I bet you feel comfortable down there, rotting back into the earth in peace. Laid to rest after a literal lifetime of conquest, or mundane endeavors, or I don't know, a reign of tyranny? What were you anyway?" she pondered as she pulled out her phone and searched for the credentials carved into the stone. "Oh man, a pilot. You did well for yourself Matt. Probably had a wife and kids you provided for in money that you couldn't for in time and affection. Or maybe you lived alone, I don't know. By the looks of it, you managed to have some excitement at one point. Court case, Wilington vs. Troutman. I'm sure he was a jerk, you seem like a good guy to me," she continued almost serious in her confidence to her non-existent conversation partner. She put her phone away and sighed once again, leaning back onto Mr. Wilington's grave and looked off at the horizon where the last bits of light of the day were fading away. With a tinge of remorse, she began to stroke the device implanted into her chest, hidden beneath her white dress shirt and grunted as the touch plucked at her nerve cells. A cold reminder that Hephaestus had her trapped like an animal in a cage.