The Ties That Bind

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Romance, Supernatural, Fantasy, Thriller, Space Exploration, Slice of Life

The day was overcast with no sight of the the sun behind the dim grey of the clouds. It was the very picture of gloom and set the perfect scene for a funeral. The thought had crossed many people's minds as they stood around the coffin as it lowered in to the ground. A man named Jeremiah Douglas. How he died, most of the friends and family had no idea - or they weren't saying. The funeral had been a closed casket ceremony, so not a single person saw the face of the man they were now mourning. He seemed to be a popular man, though. Many people had shown up, most not knowing each other. Expressions on their faces were ranged. Some happy, some depressed. Jeremiah Douglas' acquaintances were a curious and mix-matched lot.

The funeral was over, people exiting the cemetery in silent droves. Back to their every day lives.

And so it begins...

Mori turned the key in the lock wearily after the funeral. Jeremiah, dead and gone... He had always seemed to be there when life had let Mori down and he needed a friend and a pick-me-up. After a moment of confusion during which Mori thought he might have somehow broken the door, the key, or potentially his sanity... Mori realized that the door was already unlocked.

There could only be one culprit and Mori grumbled with annoyance as he slammed the door. "Chrysanthemum Avos! Why are you here?!" Mori shouted through the house, hanging his jacket in the closet behind the door. Mori turned to enter the kitchen through the doorway and stopped in his tracks.

Standing before Mori in nothing more than a white button down teeshirt from his closet, was an elfin creature with gentle waves of purest yellow silk falling over her shoulders. Intelligent eyes of milken chocolate gazed at him, an impish smile on her face and a candy held between her fingers.

"You weren't there today."
Tiffany Geraldson walked away from her family and with a group of her friends who had also played the same act. Tiffany smiled as her friends gathered around her as they walked over to one tall tree and turned to face those who mourned the death of Jeremiah Douglas. The group seemed neither happy or sad but bored with a slight hint of amusement. "I saw the pervert got what he deserved." Tiffany said finally as she looked away from the mourners and to her friends made up of girls and guys. "If I remember correctly, he was always eying us beautiful girls, and you gentlemen did nothing. Or perhaps one of you killed him." She said accusingly as she eyed her four guy friends and smiled.

"Yeah right, what would we have against him? Nothing. What's not to say that one of you lovely ladies played the Scarlet card in the ballroom and with the knife. Hahaha." Marcus said as he hi fived one of his buds.

"You're such an idiot Marcus. Using some dumb board game to accuse one of us genuine gems that wouldn't dare hurt a fly." She said and her three girl friends agree with her on that.

"Yeah, you four are too wimpy to even consider killing him, might break your nails or something." Rodney said but received a quick punch to the left side elbow by Briana.

"Shut up loser!" Briana responded but didn't add anything more as she crossed her arms.

"Yeah Mr. Million dollar fake nose job. Your mom told me all about it. How hard did that Soccer ball hit you?" Tiffany jumped with her witty comment that held so much truth as Rodney hid his nose and turned away for a second but turned back to laugh it off.

Tiffany could only be certain that people were probably staring at them and saying how rude it was for the eight of them to be having a good time. It wasn't that bad of a thing but not that good of thing. They just didn't want to focus on death. How wrong could they be?
Amy was bored and extremely so.

She had slipped away as soon as the ceremony started, tired of her mother's fake teary outbursts into her lacy hanky and her equally fake father patting her on the shoulder in comfort as they watched the dirt fall like dusty rain onto the glossy lid of the coffin.

Apparently, Mr & Mrs Mackintosh were close to the guy in the casket (or at least pretended to be), Jeremiah... Something... what was it? Oh, that's right. It was Jeremiah Douglas. Not that Amy cared. She had only greeted him once or twice when she was a kid and had no further contact ever since. Amy didn't even know why she was dragged all the way to the cemetery by her parents to say 'Adios' to some almost-stranger.

Looking for a source of amusement, Amy sat down on a grave not too far from the group of mourners who were chit chatting and sharing tears as well as smiles as they remembered the 'good ol days' when Jeremiah was still alive. It sickened her to see all these strangers clustered together, crocodile tears oozing from their eyes.

But when she scanned the scene some more, she noticed that she was wrong. Near a tall tree was a group whom she recognised right away. Geraldson. Tiffany Geraldson. And her friends to boot.

Amy sighed inwardly. She didn't want to confront them and their expensive trinkets, and just as the goth girl was about to stand up and discreetly make her way back to the family Mercedes, a high pitched voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Amy! Sweetie!" Cried Mrs. Mackintosh, her voice drenched in utmost depression. "Where are you going?"

Mr. Mackintosh squeezed his distraught wife to him as he waved his daughter back to the main group. "Aren't they your school friends over there?" He said loudly pointing to Geraldson's group, "You haven't said hi to them yet. Why don't you go over to them while your mother and I have a few more moments here. You don't mind, do you?"

Which actually meant: Be friendly to the kids of the people I need to deal with for my business so I can increase my client base, or else.

Sighing inwardly and shutting her eyes to quell the anger rising up inside of her, Amy slowly made her way to the group underneath the tall tree and stopped just far enough, and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Hi," She mumbled awkwardly.
"We are currently descending and should touch down in just a few moments, if passengers would please fasten their seat belts and return their trays to the upright position. Thank you once again for choosing United Airlines."

Hans sat in his third-class seat arms crosses as the hostess did up his seat belt.

"I know how to use these things, I don't have to be treated like a child." He said in german to his bodyguard before smiling at the woman. "And why do we have to use this crappy airline we have our own jets."

"Hans you know why now just try to relax" Gunther responded doing up his own seat belt.

"This is frustrating, can't people just quit their whining." Hans complained them imitated his father's voice. "We are in this position because hundreds of years of tradition have been brought into question, and the bad economy are making people wonder if he sill need royalty." he sighed. "At least I'm away from it all and this flight is almost over." he was sounding more like him laid-back self and seeing this Gunther leaned back in his seat just as the wheels hit the tarmac.

A few minuets later Hans strolled out into the Airport where two vehicles stood waiting, his own red Porsche Boxter convertible and a large black SUV. As Gunther threw the bags into the back of the SUV Hans Surveyed the Porsche with a critical eye, it had been in storage and although it had been immaculately cleaned he still wondered if he couldn't have gotten a newer model instead. Gunther wasn't happy with this arrangement either, he would have preferred his charge ride in the SUV with him but he of coarse wasn't listened to.

"This is Jane Lawrence reporting live from Emerson's Airport where we have just witness the prince of the European country of Rhineland exit the domestic arrivals terminal accompanied by his bodyguard. We have Just caught up with them in the parking lot."

The camera shows a rapidly advancing bodyguard and I mildly disinterested prince.

Gunther reaches the reporter, on the bar at the bottom it says "Gunther Faust – Ex Royal Rhineland Commandos"

"Could you tell us please what is the current state of affairs in Rhineland and why the Prince is here in secret?"

Gunther's hands blocks the camera. "Please no camera." his accent was thick but he spoke fluently enough, but didn't stop a quick teletext on the part of the news network.

"Could we speak to the prince?"

"This is not an official visit, there is no need for for this."

"So you re here reasons of your own"

"Gunther let me take this" Hans spoke in German coming up behind his bodyguard.

The camera is uncovered and shows the prince standing next to Gunther. The bar at the bottom of the screen read "Hans Burger – Crown prince of Rhineland"

"Please mein bodyguart and I are just here on holiday." Hans spoke with a slight accent but it was mostly put on, he had studied english in London and could speak with that accent too if he chose. "We simple thought that it would be easier if we did so quietly."

"Prince Hans, could you tell us of the current situation in Rhineland and what the rayal family is doing to avert civil war?"

"Nien nien nien, Civil war isn't a possibility. Would I be here otherwise?" Hans checked his watch. "Now if you will excuse me, check-in time is running out."

"Thank you erm.... your highness"

"Please Hans is fine. Gootbye"

The Camera turned to focus on the reporter.

"That was the crown prince of Rhineland here on holiday and apparently unconcerned with the civil turmoil and confident it will be sorted out in the near future."

"Thank you Rachel, now in other news...................
[bg=#2F2B30][dash=#5D4463]Violet Stilwell

"Damn you, Rachel! Damn you!" she shouted at the tiny little portable screen she was carrying with her. A foreign prince lands in the city and Rachel gets to flash her perfect smile and do the broadcast interview. And what was she doing? Scouring the streets for stories that someone else gets to report. The news business sucked.

With a snort, she flipped it off and dropped it in to her purse. Violet Stilwell left the sidewalk to cross the long expanses of grass that made up the landscaping of the local cemetery. Rachel could have the prince, Violet had something better. All she had to do was figure out what the big deal was. Jeremiah Douglas was some sort of local jack-of-all trades. In to everything, and his sudden death just reeked of hit story.

As she drew closer to the crowd, she made mental notes of the faces. Trying to place who she recognized with who she didn't. Deciding who was totally faking and who might of been seriously upset about the man's death. All she needed was something to follow, then she was going to latch on like a puma.

Yvaine Bardwin

Alone, thank god.

Yvaine let out a shaky breath as she ducked behind the solid wall of a cemetery mausoleum. The funeral was... depressing. She wiped away a few tears from her face - the ones she was holding back so her younger siblings wouldn't start bawling and her Dad wouldn't go asking "are you okay?". She didn't know the guy that died, but Dad wanted to attend the funeral. Yvaine didn't think it would be a big deal, but as the ceremonies went on it reminded her so much of her mother's funeral. It was digging things up she didn't want to think about anymore.

Sniffling, she sat down on a stone bench and took in some deep breaths. Just a few minutes to pull herself together, then she'd join her family and get away from this place!
Flarecia Jennifer Walker

Flarecia was annoyed. She hadn't the slightest idea what had happened to Mr. Jeremiah Douglass and every single person here was throwing around waterworks of their own whether they knew the man or not. She fumed, pacing across the lawn where the funeral had been held, her boots skidding along the green blades of grass. She crossed her arms, the little skull chain on her left armsock glittering under the sunlight.

If her mother's constant glare of disapproval wasn't enough, Flair could sense the stares of many other elite mothers. She rolled her eyes. Black was totally funeral hue. It wasn't her fault that no could appreciate the fact that she pull off traditional funeral black in style.

She rested one hand on her chunky belt, listening to the sobs and whimpers of the people existing. She sighed, making her way over to the closest tree and leaning against it, her arms crossed. She blew a side bang out of her face and tried not to think of how hideously the black rose on her hairband clashed with the skull patterns on her attire. She twirled that loose strand of hair around her finger, a nervous look crossing her face.

She couldn't understand why she couldn't figure it out. How had this mystery slipped through her fingers ? What had happened to her piano teacher ? And, she thought finally, glancing around at the hordes of mix matched people, how did all of these elites fit into the picture. She licked her lips, a taste of cherry apple lipgloss as she walked away from the tree, agitated. She couldn't think here. There was too much commotion and too many people pretending to be upset. Their pretense made her want to throw up. It was so fake.

Flarecia rubbed at her eyes as she surveyed the remaining crowd. She had cried earlier. It was only natural to miss your piano teacher, right ? Especially if he'd been one extra ounce of common sense in your life, right ? Right...

She sighed quietly and tugged at the piece of hair twirled around her finger. If her mother would just stop idly wasting her time spreading condolences maybe they could get going.

If she could just get home soon, Flare could think this over. It was too sudden and overwhelming for her to stay there any longer. She knew it was only a matter of time before her head was going to explode. She could feel the pressure of screwing up on a mystery again and she knew wasn't going to like the consequences.

My best bet is to try to go unnoticed. If no one talks to me, I can keep busy until Mom's done prattling. I can't afford to tell anyone what I've been up.

"Take me out."

Chrissy's soft lower lip pouted out, her warm brown eyes gazing up at Maurice. She was willful, her stance challenging with her slender arms crossed and, as he sighed to himself, he realized how much this sweet, fragile child trusted him. She somehow innately knew that even through her temper, he wouldn't hurt her.

"Not like that, brat. Have you eaten today?"

Mori gestured at the shirt hanging loosely on her slender, seductive frame. He closed his eyes, trying to will away what his mind was doing to that soft, inviting body. Pressing his face into the folds of his dress shirt, he sifted through everything, settling on a recital of the 92 naturally occuring elements.

"Get pants on..."

Half an hour later, Mori's sleek car pulled into an elegant building's parking lot. A restaurant, and his precious, sweet girl was dolled up to his specifications in a red dress of Damask silk, delicate gold hoops in her ears and around her wrists.

Two vehicles made their way through the streets, in front the red boxter of Hans followed closely by the large black SUV driven by Gunther. Hans was taking the scenic rout to the hotel, enjoying the sights of the city, occasionally he would hoot at an attractive girl but didn't stop, he has looking forward to a nice shower and some sleep before going out later to really see what Emmerson had to offer.

Finally arriving at the hotel he left the car for the valet and was soon joined in the lobby by Gunther. "Not bad this place." he remarked as their bags where brought in by a bellboy behind them. Not waiting for an answer he went up to the receptionist and put him passport on the counter. "We have reservations for the penthouse I believe, we would like to check in please."The receptionist's eyes widened at the sight of the passport. "Why certainly sir." The placed the keys on the counter and logged then in on the hotel registry. "The express elevator to the penthouse is just over there sir and welcome to the Shade hotel." As the pair walked over to the elevator the tapped a button connecting her to the manager's Secretary. "The booking from the Rhineland royal court was for the prince he has just arrived."[/color]
Raphael Devereux

He had stopped smoking years ago, taking precautions to protect his precious vocal chords when he had committed himself to his music career. He wasn't one of those "yeah, I quit smoking but" types either. He only slipped up once and that was at his mother's funeral. He couldn't even look at the open casket, nor when they closed it, and definitely not when they lowered it into the ground. But he forced himself to, and he'd felt sick and after the whole ordeal, he had spent fifteen minutes scouring the streets for a corner store... He'd really needed a smoke then.

Just like he desperately needed one right now.

He was standing a little ways from the crowd, his 'dazzle' level at an all-time low as he stared hard at the gravestone. Still, he did not want to attract attention; even if he hadn't been in Emerson for something like seven years, there was always the chance that someone might recognize him. And then the rumour mill was bound to start running...

Beside him was Ember, whom he'd surprised by asking to come along. She had been giving him some thinking space, he knew, ever since that phone call that caused them to cancel and postpone the rest of their tour in France. Usually he would have been glad for the distance, but he had found the task of attending the funeral alone daunting. It was rare for them to reach out for each other, despite their closeness, but he had never really liked funerals...

Especially in a city like this, where gossip spread like wildfire. Already he had felt questioning gazes, some openly curious, some mildly familiar, some hostile, following him at the beginning of the ceremony. He really did not feel like taking those on (should it come to confrontations!) without someone at his side.

As the funeral came to a close and people started trickling away, Raphael approached the grave, his mind a swirl of emotions, the more prominent ones being guilt and shame. Fragments of memories flickered at the edge of his consciousness. Crossing his arms and pouting at his mother, "I will not live in America anymore." Catching his mother, after they had moved back, looking at 'his' photograph, the sadness in her eyes he did not want to acknowledge. Oh God. He needed a cigarette. There was no way he could do this--

Jeremiah was dead. There would be no making peace with him nor his ghost, as his mother had wished. This confrontation with his memories was only going to lead to pain. A lot of it.

Suddenly, it was too much for Raphael. He wanted to go back to France. (And screw this peace making business!) Back to his life. As far away as possible from this man who stole his mother from him. France. Yes, focus on that. He breathed in once, shutting away the guilty thoughts in a corner of his mind "to be dealt with later".

And once he'd done that, he turned to the woman beside him, his French smooth and low, "Em, let's go."

"I need a smoke," he added as an afterthought, as a means to convey his inner turmoil (he never needed a smoke) and well, the fact that he wanted one.

...Maybe this was all just a huge mistake in judgement on his part.

[OOC: It's late. I didn't re-read it. No editing either. I apologize in advance for any typos, grammar, missing chunks of texts. x_x]
All eyes were on Amy as though she were unwanted by the group. Except Tiffany who was the last one to notice Amy.

"One of your friends Tiff? I am out of here." She said and waited away immediately.

The rest of Tiffany's friend walked away as well as though Amy were some infectious disease leaving Tiffany to fend for herself. Crossing her arms she watched as each of her friends went there own way and they looked back at Amy. "It's nothing to do with you. I guess I broke one of the code rules, at least they think. Rule 38, no friends of other groups crash into another but your not with my other group. It's all good it's fine." She said and looked away for a moment and then back at Amy. "Your parents made you come over here didn't they? They thought 'oh look Amy, one of your good ol' classmates, you should go talk with her.' My parents played the same exact card to make her sure I didn't end up hanging with the rejects. Too bad for them I hang with both." She and paused for a moment and then continued. "Where are my manners? My mother would slap me if she were listening in on us for me not introducing myself first. My name is Tiffany Geraldson but if we become friends you can call me Tiff." She concluded and waited to see how Amy would respond. Guess I am the only one with Goth friends. She does look a little like Ellie but not really.
Location: Vargas' residence, Early morning
A high-pitched CPU hum, punctuated by the occasional frantic keyboard noises filled the room. The room was almost completely dark, only illuminated by the light coming from the computer monitor. Seated in front of this computer monitor is a hunched figure.

"It's a little bit too silent in here" Vincent thought as he opened another computer program. Afterwards, foreign music filled the room, harmonizing, instead of drowning the hum.

"Better..." he thought as he sighed and went on typing.

He absentmindedly looked at the window just beside his desk and looked at the silent neighborhood. An indifferent moon drifted slowly over a horizon punctuated by trees, houses and buildings. Neon signs could be seen from a distance, indicating where the downtown is.

Vincent turned his attention back to the computer, resumed typing, and stopped. He seemed to blank out for a moment, and then pounded on the backspace key. This pattern of typing, silence, hitting the backspace key, and typing again went on for an indeterminate amount of time, only the accompanying music changed, from what seemed to be ancient Chinese music, to some Japanese pop tune, to what might pass for rock music.

His brother, whose bed is across the room, suddenly stood up and walked towards Vincent.

"Oh, sorry about that," Vincent said as he turned down the speaker's volume, "Was it too loud?"

"Nah, not really..." the brother said, "I was just going to the bathroom. And oh, anyways, did you hear about that neighbor of ours who recently died?"

Vincent turned to his brother, with a quizzical expression on his face, "No. What about him?"

"No, nothing much... It's just that I think we ought to pay our respects to him, being good neighbors and all," his brother said.

"Who's going then?" Vincent asked.

"Not me of course," the brother shrugged.

"Why not? You can pass by their place after work, right?" Vincent reasoned out.

"Hmmm, I might..." Vincent's brother conceded, "I'll see what I can do about that." Saying that, he went on with his business.

"Now what was that about...?" Vincent asked himself as he resumed typing, he got so absorbed into what he was doing that he didn't notice his brother going back to his bed and resuming his sleep, lulled by that strange mix of CPU hum and weird Japanese music.
Ember remained silent and respectful as she observed the tombstone before her and Raphael. Her expression was cool, her hands clasped together just below her stomach. She could sense it... He was feeling rather uneasy. He was desiring a cigarette. She'd only tried those cancerous sticks once or twice - They never suited her fancy.

They didn't stay long. Not that she expected to... She offered a half smile to him as they turned away from Jeremiah's grave, draping an arm over his shoulders to provide comfort. A well known man had passed away. Additionally, Raphael was feeling guilt for what he felt he had done wrong. Ember felt more sorrow for her beloved band partner more than anything else. It was a shameless thing she could admit to herself...

She spoke ever so gently to him in their foreign tongue, "Do you need anything along the way?"

Ember thought she'd offer... They could make stops along the way back to their hotel. Raphael's mental health was important to her.
Iann felt another sharp poke into his side as his grandmother Iris nudged him into another meaningful and ever so important greeting. It was always the same ol' song and dance for these people. Always a smile and nod as he was given looks of pitty or utter disgust. His grandmother had a way with words that always made Iann out to be some poor wreach that was resuced. And always from the kindness of her own heart.

"Iann stand up straight, this is Mr. Myerson he is a very important man on Wall Street and this is his wife Ruthann. This is my grandson Iann, he's come to stay with me while his mother is on a sabatical." Thats rich.. thought Iann, that was a new way of saying his mother dumped him and they still couldnt reach his father..

"Hello, hi.." Iann tried to smile but he could careless about some stiff that his grandmother use to know. It was all so fake and drawn out. Iann could feel the contempt and anger in the faces of some people that were to polite to say what they were really feeling. All those people left, hell the priest was gone before his bible closed.

"Iann! Come on we have other people to see, Nice to see you again take care, yeas yeas okay bye now. Iann I am not going to tell you again to button your shirt and for ChristSake stop sluching.." Iris kept nagging Iann as their driver brought the car around. Iann was thankful that they were leaving at long last when his grandmother spotted one more person she just had to talk to.

"Iann come on... you have to pay your respects too. " Iann cut his grandmother off.

"I dont want too, Im tired and hungry can we just go?"

As soon as the words fell from his lips he regreated saying anything at all. Iris shot him the look of death as the handsome couple walked up to her. She gave Iann an Ill deal with you later glare and then quickly faked a smile and talked to the couple.

At last Iann had a moment of peace. He took the moment to look around and spotted the kids near the tree and the other people leaving. Letting out a sigh he looked down and studied the tombstones.
Amy watched coolly as all but Tiffany left the trunk of the tree and made their own way back to the mourning crowd. She found it amusing how she should be feeling somewhat hurt or embarrassed but this scenario played out so often that Amy often saw it coming and was rarely fazed by it any more; she did stick out like a sore thumb in this crowd, despite the fact that everyone was mostly in black.

Listening to Tiffany explain, then introduce herself, Amy stifled the urge to nod and loudly agree about the comment she made about their parents. Instead, she opted for casual - arms crossed, head slightly tilted and one knee bent to a side.

It was slightly strange that Tiffany would choose to stay behind and speak with her. Most of the guys and girls around town would eye her up and down quizzically and scatter away just in case she grew fangs and conducted a sacrificial ritual on them. But perhaps, Amy thought, she was one of the types who felt sorry for her or maybe, she added a little more optimistically, she was the genuine real deal; completely different from the fakers and the wannabes in Emerson whose only purpose was to climb up the social food chain, like her parents.

At this stage, she wasn't sure so Amy decided to play it safe for now.

"Amy Mackintosh," She replied introducing herself, "I've seen you around school before... your mom owns that antique shop right? I think my dad bought something there once. No offence but that 18th century vase or whatever it is was gross - it's sitting in the corner of our lounge and my mom loves it."

Amy rolled her eyes, stressing the word before she continued, "So, what are you here for? Are you a relative of that dead guy? Or are your parents using this as a business opportunity like my parents?"
Tiffany was amused by the fact that Amy's dad fell prey to her mothers fake golden voice. She seemed to be very good at giving people junk for usually a huge sum of money. It was definitely humorous but at the same time she felt sorry for the people that her mother won over and took advantage of. Her and her father were prime examples of individuals taken advantage of but Victoria had not one that bad. Her father kept to his accounting and Tiffany stuck with both groups of friends.

"First off, I am so glad that I am not related to him, he was such a creep. If you were related to him I am so sorry." She said and looked around slightly upset and uneasy. "What he did to my friend Becky Morison is unforgivable. I hope someone had killed because then he would've gotten his just deserve. She was a bright musician and singer and just wanted to learn from one of the best and he took advantage of that. The sad thing is is that no one believed her when she told them that he raped her. Instead she was sent to a psych ward and one month later she killed herself." Tiffany said but stopped suddenly and let her arms down to try to relax as she breathed deeply.

"What if the wrong guy is in that casket?" She said as she looked over at Amy. "Mistakes have been made in the medical field and all that other stuff. They could've identified the wrong body or something and he could be anywhere. He could be here watching us and wondering such lustful desires. Wouldn't even know it was him because he would've changed his disguise and changed his whole identity. I am not going to be his next victim. If he is still alive then I am going to kill him because he kills me." She said and then started laughing to herself quietly and shrugged her shoulders. "Anyways that's just me and my issues. Whatever." She said quietly as she looked back at Amy.

Looking over at her family gathered together she looked back at Amy. "My mother is the reason were all gathered here. We seem to take up almost half of the population attending this funeral and we don't even know the creep. Victoria just likes to make an appearance to make people think she cares even though she never even knew the man. My two older brothers don't even live in the area anymore and they never even spoke with Mr. Jeremiah Douglass. And my dad hardly speaks with anyone and keeps to himself most of the time. No reason for us to be here." She said as she looked back at her mother who was eying at her curiously.

Looking back at Amy she grinned and then crossed her arms. "My mom doesn't seem to like you. She's giving me that look like 'why are you hanging with her.'" She said and decided to not going any further with explaining why. "So, your parents are here for business reasons, interesting. What kind of business do they do? Are they trying to cheat someone out of a huge some of money like my mother or something else much worse?" She asked with intrigue and amusement. Anything was better than thinking about what happened to her friend Becky and the possibly of Mr. Jeremiah Douglass still alive and on the loose.

Sweet Chrysanthemum, his precious doll... Mori felt guilty for his thoughts as he watched her gorgeous form blur into her socialite figure. Every delicate curve of her body was like that of a cat, luxuriant and warm. Those perfectly pouted lips seemed to beg to be kissed and as Mori leant in, he smelled her delicately perfumed locks of hair, longing to kiss her neck.

Pulling himself away from her, Mori sat in his own chair. The waitress came, a glass of light white wine placed before Chrissy with sauteed mushrooms and braised beef. Mori stared bemusedly at her as she lifted a forkful of food to her lips. Chasing the bite with a sip of wine, Chrissy nestled against her seat and smiled to Mori.

"What shall we do later?"

Mori frowned to her, arching an eyebrow. She was such a precocious child, he sighed to himself. Running his fingers through his hair, Mori stared down at his plate of lemon and fish, as well as the sparkling, carbonated water in his own glass.​
Yvaine Bardwin

Several moments had passed before Yvaine finally pulled herself together enough to stop sniffling behind the mausoleum. She pulled out a mirror from the little purse she carried and made sure she didn't have tears streaming down her face, or messed up makeup. Last thing she wanted was Daddy to freak out and worry about her. Satisfied that she looked okay, Yvaine stood up and dusted off her dress.

"Excuse me!" a woman's voice called out, startling Yvaine enough to jump. "What is a pretty little lady like you doing hiding back here? I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Violet Stilwell. Reporter for EMBC News." she held out her hand to Yvaine.

Blinking, Yvaine didn't take the woman's hand. Ugh, why'd she have to feel like she just got caught doing something bad! "Um, I was just going to find my Dad..."

"Ah, so here with the family, hmm? I take it you didn't want to be around the deceased. There's a rumor has it, he had a fancy for teenage girls. I could see how one of his victims might not want to part-" Violet didn't seem to have any regret about blurting out the statement.

"What?! No!" Yvaine responded quickly. Who would say these kinds of things to people at a funeral?!

"No? My apologies! Your dad must have been working as one of Mr. Douglas' hired men. Some sources tell me Douglas has been involved in several mob hits on rival families in the state."

"You're crazy!" backing up slowly, Yvaine finally turned on a heel and took off running! That evil woman could go harass some other poor person!

Taking a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being chased, Yvaine ended up slamming right in to someone and crashing to the ground!

"I'm so sorry, I was just trying t- Iann Fletcher?" Yvaine was crawling up to her knees and trying to help up the person she practically ran over, and was surprised to find it one of the students from her school. She knew almost everyone's names there (it payed to know your classmates when you planned on running for Student Body President!), but seeing one here at some dead guy's funeral was a surprise.

"Sorry Iann. I didn't mean to run you down. did you know, uh... him?" Ugh, how embarrassing! The guy could be mourning and she practically squashed him!

[bg=#2F2B30][dash=#5D4463]Violet Stilwell

"Damn. She got away." Violet said, after the girl took off running. Too bad. She seemed a little shaken up by the questions. A little more pressing and Violet might have figured out something interesting. Of course, those 'rumors' she asked the girl about were shots in the dark. There was so much talk running around this cemetery, Violet was still trying to decipher gossip from truth. Choosing this story was a jackpot of intrigue!

Violet scanned the scene again and picked her next target. With a smirk, there she was! Flarecia Walker. Wasn't she some pretty little teen model? Violet headed straight for her!

"Hello there! My, it's such a shame that poor man is dead. Say, how did you know Mister Douglas?"
While standing straight up and down during the funeral was taking place, Ronald noticed something. Yvaine had done a good job dressing up Milian. When it came to Jonas and himself...making ties look good on himself was never a speciality. Veronica was the one who had dressed him up nicely whenever it was needed. Several times during the mourning he had looked down at his son's tie and back up at his own, over and over again, sighing each time.

'Jeremiah, Jeremiah.....what happened to you?' He thought to himself. Now, as the funeral was over, he really just wanted to find Yvaine and get back home. He was sure none of the kids enjoyed the occasion, Yvaine couldn't possibly remember Jeremiah, she was......well, it was a long time ago now.

After talking for roughly five minutes to some of his colleagues and getting Jonas and Milian with him they started walking to wards where they had parked the car. He wasn't interested in chit-chatting, this wasn't his crowd.

On the way out he noticed a familiar face, Raphael was in town! It put a smile on his mouth, but he didn't approach him, it didn't feel right, the man seemed rather depressed.

Just as they had passed the gate, he spotted Yvaine, coming closer, his jaw dropped.

"What the..." He almost shouted in his daughters face.

He paused for a second and calmed his voice.

"Wh-what is the meaning of this?" He said looking dissapointed at Yvaine.

Ronald paused a second time, pushing Jonas and Milian away.

"Go wait by the car." He said, before turning back to Yvaine.

"And who's this?" He asked, pointing at Iann almost accusationly.
Iann was in total shock and the instant he realized that he had been run over by a girl he turned bright pink. "I um.." he was frazed and now petrifed that he was going to get clobbered by Yvaine's dad.

"Umm I .." Iann stepped back and the quickly looked down his hands shot into his pockets as he became more and more intimiated by Yvaines dad. His stance, his glare and his tone felt like nails being driven into his head and chest.

"IAN!! what have you done now... ?" Iris, Ianns grandmother came bustling over followed by the driver and two other people that just wanted to be nosy.

"Nothing. I didint do anything I was just.."

"Thats it! We are leaving I cant take you anywhere, you are hopeless and worthless Wilks put him the car, Ill handle this.." she barked as Iann hung his head and was lead away by the driver.

"Come on you, you've done enough for today... why cant you just be good for once.." the driver hassled him. Iann wanted so badly to say something but he knew it was pointless. As soon as the car door closed Iann looked out the window and with great longing watched Yvaine. He could still hear her sweet voice "Sorry Iann. I didn't mean to run you down. did you know, uh... him?"

Iann coulnt help but let out a heavy sigh and sit back. His once chance to talk to her and it was gone just as quickly as it came.

"Now then, are you alright there deary did he hurt you, Im so sorry if he did, he's been a bit unstable since his mother took ill, is there anything I can do for you.. Again I am very sorry for Iann's behavior." Iris shot Ronald and then Yvaine a fake smile as her driver came back and softly touched her elbow.

"We can leave whenever your ready..."