The Answer is Always

[Kenlie (DELETED 4989)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Dominique: Dominique drifted through the halls and made her way through the spaces that she had a thousand times before. It should be easy to do. But it wasn’t. Even as she felt the brushing of her arm against a wall it was as if a warmth filled her and competed against that constant chill that was spreading down her spine. She welcomed the impending freeze threatening to consume her. For the first time she longed to be numb. The pain was nearly unbearable. Then somehow as her feet lead her through a long corridor it started.

Each corner the petite shadow navigated slowly had the deep ache of grief she had been carrying shifting somehow. It was building and changing all at the same time. Concern found its way in and now she was wondering what could possibly happen next. Impending pain? It came to her without effort. a sense that she was about to act on what she had yet to learn. She sensed it unlike she had ever done so before. It was as if there was more to be had after all that she had been through. It was there. Something was going to happen. Someone ...no several were going to hurt perhaps even more. Her jaw tightened because that would delay the tears. She had very little left to give. Like an angel in the darkest moment Kenlie appeared and ‘HOPE’ reached out to curl into her sister’s hand. It was a contact that reminded her something was missing and she couldn’t reach it. The woman was like a light in her dark world.

Dominique’s chest lifted as she inhaled air she didn’t need.They were going home to Vita Bella to meet Verne for the final time and tuck him in peacefully in the soil of his home. Was that enough? It was the only thing she could think of the past two days when she made the plans. Now there was conflict in her mind as she moved with Kenlie closer to where they would find themselves in Vita Bella. If you can’t let go of the one you love how can you take dirt in your bare hands and sift it over the top of their body laying in a six feet deep hole?

“Nothing between us...ever.” Dominique’s own words now haunted her as she remained quiet walking with Kenlie. Verne’s face was staring back at her as her words continued while he held the door to her West apartment open. “Don’t knock. Walk in like there was never a door or wall between us. Promise?” She asked him from where she sat on that sectional couch as Rufus moved at a snails pace between them. Such a simple request she made and yet it was always to be from that point on. Nothing was to stand between them. Not even her turning.

Now death was making another attempt at coming between them and she cursed the world as it was beneath her breath. Verne had grinned that night nearly a year ago as he left. He never knocked again. The man entered every room she was in with the grace of an unexpected summer breeze finding its way through an open window. Now she felt him. It was so powerful. Wherever she was cold inside slowly began to warm up.


Kenlie: Once the casket had been delivered to the hearse and a guy named Boner (she would ask about that one later, she’d decided), Kenlie went and waited in the secret portal that only four people knew of. Two were sisters, now technically dead; one was still very much alive, but a hermit as it were; and the other was just shy of being lowered into the dirt.

Walking through the room, letting her fingertips brush over the leather over the arm of the couch as she passed, as well as taking in the colors and smell, memories came flooding back. The nights she had spent in Dom’s room, too drunk to make it down the hall into her own. The high-pitched giggles as the girls -- Dom, ‘Kerlie Fry’ and Leona -- ran through and into Vita Bella, stoned as hell and high on life. A small smile pulled at Kenlie’s mouth, but her eyes were wet. Today was the day that they left this place behind for good, and most of the people that came with it. Koda would receive Kenlie’s old tome a few hours from that very moment.

When her feet finally carried her to the apartment door, she disguised herself among the shadows before taking a step out onto the floor mat that welcomed anyone passing by. Kenlie looked left, then right, and once she was satisfied with the fact that no one else was up there with them, she closed the door behind her and let her shadows fall. The darkness dispersed until it was nothing as she turned around the corner and gazed down the hall.

Standing there was a figure that she realized now looked shockingly similar to herself. It wasn’t the color of their hair or the tone of their skin, however. Not even those large brown eyes or the beautiful canvas that was their flesh. It was, though, the demeanor in which they held themselves; strong, even when weak, and chin held high until the very end. This, surely, felt like the end.

When those round eyes lifted to capture Kenlie’s full attention, the younger sister couldn’t help but smile sadly in return. It felt like she was lifting heavy weights as she extended her arm out and uncurled a set of inked digits, reaching for her sister’s hand. She silently welcomed Dom to experience the pain with her, together. Never, ever would they go through loss alone again. Kenlie made sure her sister knew that as their palms met and their fingers laced so, so tight as if unwilling to break. They would cradle each other’s hearts just the same, in that moment and for every night to come. The day was gone, but they still had each other.


Dominique: Dominique’s chest lightened as the air held within finally drifted through her parting lips. Each formed into the faint smile she could produce. She admired Kenlie’s strength. It reminded her to summon her own when in her presence. She was taking her change so much better than she ever expected and for that alone she grateful. Despite what anyone else thought she didn’t regret doing what was right.

Now if only Dominique had been awake that night that Verne sat up with a gun in his hand and out of her reach. If only she had opened her eyes before his finger curled over the trigger and released the bullet that created the sound that she knew would haunt her the rest of her nights.She would have done what she refrained from whenever she around him and used every power and strength she had to tear the weapon from him and they wouldn’t be doing what they were now.

Dominique squeezed Kenlie’s hand and brought it to her lips and kissed the top. “This is it. I just want you to know that I love you and I am so sorry that tonight we aren’t sitting somewhere laughing, getting into some sort of trouble and oblivious to what we now feel and know. I think Boner is here.” She released Kenlie’s hand and checked out the window. He loved this window and the view of the grounds and the dock. She released a heavy sigh and wrapped her arm around Kenlie’s shoulder and kissed the side of her head. “You going to be okay?”


Kenlie: As Dom’s kiss met her skin, Kenlie could only squeeze those fingers tighter and draw her sister closer. Her own lips pressed into Dom’s hair as she sighed, listening to the words she had to get out. Actually, Dom didn’t ever have to say them at all. Kenlie knew.

“Don’t apologize for any of this. None of it is your fault,” she told her, bringing up her free hand to cup the woman’s face and force those eyes to gaze up into her own. “I love you, too.” Kenlie dropped her head forward so their foreheads pressed together for a few seconds. Then she heard the hearse pull around the back to pick them up.

“Yeah. We both are,” she murmured, pulling away only to drag Dominique with her. Side by side, they made their way back to the elevator and descended to the now empty ground floor. Without the crowd that previously occupied it, Kenlie realized what a stark contrast there was between what the cathedral looked like then, and what it had looked like a few months prior. It was still as beautiful as the day she had entered, with its stained glass and the pretty wood floors covered with red carpet. But now, empty as it was, it was lonely. Her chest became tight all over again as the two of them made their way back out of the building to meet the chill outside, and then -- completely ignoring the fact that the few stragglers from the wake were staring at them, with pitying glances and hushed whispers on their tongues -- they walked through the untrimmed grass around the side and back to meet a driver.

[Verne]

Eight hours and forty minutes before my death.


It was dark, ten at night and the few candles that still burned within the four walls of the cathedral offered the symbolic warmth my soul sought each time I came here to pray, and I did; pray that was… Sure the church was something I had only adopted in the last few years but I had always prayed to something, someone… Even if he wasn't the God beloved by all, I had always believe someone up there was listening from a very young age.

The silence and antiquity of this holy place made Verne feel at ease, it was a second home he could escape to for a while each day just to get away from it all; the buzz of the busy city streets, the stress of running an organised group, and the tension in his bed.

“Hey big guy,” Verne started, as casual as if he were speaking to a friend, or his brother. “Veronika called again, she is desperate to come out here and see us both, Vladimir and I. I know the dangers that reside in this place and may she forgive me that I will not allow her to fall victim to them. I’m sorry she is alone… Do not abandon her, your servant, but ever rest in her heart.”

The man had been sitting for a while in the otherwise empty cathedral, Verne didn't really have much more to say; more than anything, he savoured the peace and quiet. “Forgive the sins I have committed this day by word, deed or thought. Lord, from all vain thoughts and from evil desires, for yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.”

The tall Paladin rose to his feet, stretched his right arm out and touched the back of the chair in front of him. “Oh… I almost forgot… Please let her say yes tonight.” With that Verne turned and made his way down the aisle, centred between the wooden pews. He was planning to make the short walk to Bullwood station and take the late night train home. There was a lot still to set up back at Vita Bella before he got down on one knee for the woman that had stolen his heart almost the day he laid eyes on her, over a year ago now.

Though he had a set of keys, Verne never locked the cathedral up; the House of God would always be open to those in need. A few times he had returned the following morning to find the odd homeless man or couple sleeping in between the pews with their heads set on rolled up items of clothing. He couldn't imagine being that hard-up, most of them were just thankful to have somewhere dry to sleep, even if their bellies were empty.

Verne pulled his denim jacket on over his white t-shirt. The jacket was faded and worn, especially at the elbows where the material was starting to fray and come apart. He pushed back his hair, which was laced with hair product, old and new, before pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants in search of his lighter and cigarettes. It was cold outside, Autumn slowly rolling into town to wrestle the leaves from trees and make way for the winter snow.

He took the last cigarette from the packet and flicked the cap back on the zippo to light up, the end burning bright red and orange before the flame ate through the tightly packed tobacco, chasing the smoke Verne sucked into his lungs. A man could forget the cold when he was smoking a good cigarette and the Russians of course made the best kind. Verne released the smoke through his nose and started down the road towards Bullwood station.

The six foot two male had missed out on a ticket by three minutes when he arrived at the station and cursed himself, wishing he hadn't stopped to light up the cigarette; damn his formidable habits… If only he had listened to Dominique and tried harder to quit. He snuffed it out against the countertop of the ticket centre and talked to the man through the iron grid. “When is the next train?”

“Half an hour, Lad.”

“****, okay… Thanks,” Verne waved, brushing the end of his cigarette away from the counter so that it landed on the concrete platform.

He made his way to the south end of the station, stepping down from under the fluorescent lighting and back out onto the road, where the space between streetlamps was few and far on this side of town, though not nearly as bad as parts of Westwall, or even Cherrydale for that matter. Verne had only made it two blocks before he decided to turn around and head back, half an hour wasn't too long to wait after all and walking home from Bullwood would take all night.

As he turned the small hairs on the back of his neck and along his forearms bristled causing him to stop where he stood in the street, half a metre from the footpath, if that. He raised his blue gaze to look out into the surrounding darkness. Living with a Vampire had numbed his usually keen Paladin senses which were there to warn him whenever he stumbled into the presence of the undead.

Verne ran his right hand over his hip to feel for the sword he knew he had left at home. Was he being watched? He wasn't quite sure. He so seldom ran into trouble that his guard had slowly ebbed in the last two or three months. With a sword, it didn't matter how fast the undead creature was, for one good strike usually saw them cut in two and left on the sidewalk, no more than a pile of black ashes to be scattered by the wind, but without a weapon?

The Paladin raked his fingers through the waxy golden mane on his head and pulled the ends tight before he let his arms fall at his sides once more. ‘Stay calm, keep walking,’ he told himself mentally, ‘for all you know it is probably just a lingering bad smell...’. Vampires had such a terrible odour, just a whiff was enough to turn a Paladin’s insides and cause one’s blood to stop in their veins. Around Dominique it was something Verne had learned to block out, but on the streets, where it really mattered, where sight, sound, and taste were the only things standing between him and a quick end, he had to trust his gut. “God save you from your fate, Vampire.”

She was a true huntress, a Vampire that knew her trade well, had refined her skills and was able to pull the shadows around her like a cloak, leaving her almost invisible; almost, for no Vampire in this city could ever truly disguise themselves to the keen nose of a Paladin. He knew the attack was coming, felt it in his bones, in the way his skin horripilated, and his subconscious scream something is not right.

A sharp thunderbolt of pain went through the man and then the world went black. The tall male lifted his head, the sound of his heart thumped hard in his ears. When his tongue rolled over his lips he could taste blood and as he finally found the courage to open his eyes he saw it, his chest and arms were painted with the red liquid that had once pumped through him. Verne’s wrists had been bound, his captor having left him strung up either by rope or chain; the small light coming from the back of the room not bright enough for him to see too much of anything.

When Verne tried to move his fingers he felt the sting of the rope biting into his wrists and the strain it was putting his body under; all seventy-five kilograms of him. His shoulders burned, his head hurt, the man’s right eyelashes and brow were wet with blood, and he was sure his ankles were tied with the same type of bindings. It took him a moment to fully comprehend what had happened, that his jacket, shirt, phone, shoes, and pocket-knife were missing. The tall male closed his hands around the rope, he couldn't feel his fingers anymore, though they still tingled which offered some encouragement.

Stripped of his jacket and top there was no denying what the man was, the hawk feathers inked into the flesh behind his right ear, the angel and tombstone on his right forearm for those loved and lost, while a rosary and cross adored the left. Tattooed over the man’s heart was the vegvisir rune compass (the one enchanted image on his body) and the reaper on his back lay cut into four pieces by the scar that remained, one that depicted the sword of Saint James; burned into his back by his predecessor, Ezequiel Valentin. Other than an old stab wound scar on the man’s front, the Paladin was relatively unscathed by his now twenty-nine years of life.

Verne used what little strength he could muster to hoist himself up and take the pressure away from his wrists for a time and looked around the room. He couldn't see anything that stood out in the dim light but felt sure he was under ground, as all rooms built underground had a certain damp smell. “Hello?” Verne yelled into the darkness, perhaps someone would hear him yelling, he thought, before calling again.

“I’m trapped down here! Hello!”

“Why hello,” a woman chimed softly from somewhere behind him in the room, her accent lingering where she tried to disguise it, German? Dutch? Verne couldn't quite place it, though it seemed to be an ability they shared, but never quite to the full extent one desired; he was obviously Russian, that was hard to hide, even with years of speaking the world’s third most common tongue.

Verne had just about gone to call again when he heard the sharp clicking of the woman’s heels against the cold stone floor, noticing a couple of things as his captor neared him. Firstly that she was slight for she didn't fall on her heels heavily, and secondly that the room couldn't have been too big the way sound bounced about it so quickly. It was then he noticed the table in front of him, an array of different weapons and intimidating looking objects laid out before him, seemingly placed there to invoke panic.

Verne closed his eyes quickly, trying to place the huntress in the room, though this proved more than difficult until she came to stand behind him and press her blade to his cheek in a mocking kiss. Dominique kissed him there, where nothing and no one else should. The blade was cold just like his lover’s lips, and just as it had no bend, nor would his will; the huntress wouldn't be getting a word out of him tonight, he promised himself that much as she spoke at his back. “How about you start talking before I properly introduce you to my little friend here.”

His grip on the rope above him was wavering, fingers burning under the strain of his large form held under gravity’s hand. The knife was at his throat then and Verne raised his feet, bending at the knee to see if they too were tied to the floor and not just each other. The tall Paladin rolled his tongue in his mouth before spitting over his shoulder, though his shot would miss the woman by a mile. “Vampire scum, you’ll get nothing out of me.”

“It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect,” Verne started to recite verses from the holy book in an attempt to both frustrate the Vampire and keep her from his head, as he knew Vampires had a lot of different abilities; some common knowledge to the Paladins and others he was not willing to find out. Slowly Verne lowered his feet just as he had moments ago raised them, quite sure he was free to move them without restraint; now, how could he make that his advantage?

22:33

[Kenlie (DELETED 4989)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Meeting the clean-up guy.

Boner: A chunk of that awkward, ever-present gunk that seemed to sneak up under people’s nails at the best and worst of times was flicked to the ground from the end of Boner’s pocket knife. His heavy frame rested against the black hearse, quite visibly shifting the center of the vehicle’s weight over a few inches. Most drivers would have likely thought it more courteous to wait in the car, and only get out to help load a coffin into the back.

This vehicle wasn’t his own, though. It was a rental. And being charged for getting ash on the carpet would have been a pain in the *** that the man did not want to deal with, or fork over for.

He made sure not to burn himself with the cherry of his Marlboro Wide as he closed the knife against his pant leg, and tried to entertain himself while he waited, recalling old memories from his life out at sea while he stared almost soullessly up at the back of St. James Cathedral.

He remembered when he was fourteen, going out on a boat with his dad for the first time for a few weeks at the beginning of spring. He had skipped school for it, and not really ever looked back since then. People had tried to get him back in the classroom, to finish high school and his ‘education’, but as of today, he figured he had learned more himself than a book could ever teach him.

A crab had almost taken his finger off once. Not one of those small things you sometimes saw scuddling across a beach trying to get back into the surf, but a King Crab that had been caught in a trap in the middle of the ocean. He still had a silver scar circling almost all the way around his right pinky finger from it, and the bone sat at an awkward angle if anyone looked closely enough. He’d had to just tape it up and hope it healed well enough; going back to shore three weeks ahead of time would have been detrimental to the family income.

A squid had accidentally found its way into a net one day. They had tried to keep it, but after a rather violent (looking, anyway) ink attack, Boner had stomped on the thing until it stopped moving and then tossed it back into the water. Despite what many might think, ink was not, in fact, lacking in smell. Even fresh, it smelled like rotting fish, and had left an unpleasant, salty taste in his mouth.

Then there was the time that…

He looked up. People finally seemed to be lollygagging their way out of the church. He shoved his knife into his pocket, dropped his cigarette to the ground, and stepped on it. Hair was appropriately fluffed and then flattened to make himself look slightly more presentable as the ladies made their way around the corner and into view. He considered speaking, but thought to himself instead.

Hitting on women at funerals was not, after all, good etiquette.


Dominique: Dominique looked towards the hearse and blinked her sore eyes a few times. Boner was the one whom she was set up with as the one who could and would pull off the job as the body snatcher. Of course she was hardly innocent in this. Boner was the hands of the rather sinful mission. She paid for it to be done. A lot. Her eyes watched the man next to the dark hearse then cleared her throat. He looked like he ate nails for lunch as her grandmother used to say whenever they came upon a giant of a man. Boner was a big boy and then some. She lifted her tired hand to thread through the top of her dark hair and pinned it back behind her ear. He looked like this was hardly his first time with a hearse and a casket. If that was supposed to be soothing it wasn’t.

This was going to happen so no use in delaying it any longer with apprehension over the intimidating size or appearance of the man who would be just as guilty as they for such an unthinkable act. Who was to say he didn’t wonder about her and Kenlie? How many women pay to have dead bodies taken from their intended spot of rest and buried elsewhere? She didn’t think it would be a question to ask as her feet moved along towards the man she would bravely extend a hand to in greeting. Once she was in front of him she realized he only seemed taller.

“I am assuming you are Boner?” Dominique heard her words as she looked him in the eyes.

If he wasn’t well then they just have started something entirely different with a stranger than what she was planning on doing. Not many would be taking kindly to being called Boner by some complete stranger. Since this was the first time she set eyes on him she was just that. If he didn’t acknowledge her or the business she was expecting to have then she was pretty sure between her and Kenlie they could take him. Big ones were not always instant defeat. If you went at them with a plan you found more often than not they went down hard like a fresh tree. Just had to know where to cut them down to size.


Kenlie: Kenlie had already met ‘Boner’ very briefly during the swapping of the caskets. Of course, she hadn’t quite had the chance to shake his hand, what with having been carrying a couple hundred pounds on one shoulder and trying to ensure that no one noticed what was happening right beneath their noses.

As they approached, the woman couldn’t help but noticed the way he fluffed his hair. What a beauty this man was. One side of her mouth couldn’t help but quirk into a tiny smirk at her own inner dialogue.

When Dominique greeted the man, Kenlie could not hold back the snort that spilled out of her abruptly. Quickly, though, she cleared her throat and gave a small cough, as if she’d just had something caught in her sinuses. “Getting over a cold,” she mumbled. The fib slid past her lips shakily, as if she were holding back a full-fledged burst of laughter. That, along with the ****-eating grin that spread across her face, didn’t make her lie very convincing. Oops.


Boner: A rough hand reached to take the one offered to him. He made sure to be gentle; fragile, soft skin need not be scruffed up by the torn callouses that dotted his palms and fingers. His voice matched his hands as he responded to the inquiry.

“Aye.”

Simple responses kept the rest of his words from taking a walk around his mouth and spilling over his tongue. A quick selection of possible continuations, had he not very quickly snapped his mouth shut, and been pleasantly interrupted by the fake cough of the younger of the two women:

Would you be interested in finding out why?

Or…

I am for now, at least.

He withdrew his hand and immediately used it to hike his jeans up his backside, as his belt seemed to be failing him and his gut was feeling particularly sassy that day. Further readjustments to his clothing continued as he stared openly at Kenlie, eyeing the smile on her face as though a bomb might have been strapped to it.

“Laugh all you’d like. Just take care to remember that I know how to dispose of bodies.”

He waggled his eyebrows.

(Almost suggestively. Almost.)

He didn’t need to know the women’s names. Only that he had been paid and that they didn’t seem the type to need worrying over in terms of his own physical safety as far as he could tell. The visible ink pressed into the skin of each left him wondering if they had simply been Suicide Girl wanna-be’s at some point in time, or if they actually knew what they were getting themselves into when it had been done. That might be a good topic of conversation.

For a later date.

When there weren’t such pressing issues to take care of.

(No pun intended. Swear.)

“So how close are we to bein’ all set, eh? I get charged extra if I keep the thing out pas’ closing time. Not to be disrespectful or anything, but I can assume you ladies understand.”

And he had somehow been concerned about etiquette before.

“And who’s callin’ shotgun?”


Dominique: Dominique nudged Kenlie with her elbow. Her sister had no reason to hold back and she loved her for it. She was pretty sure he had one and if he was willing to share the Kenlie would be all ears. Hell, so would she but for the moment their time was clicking away with the second hand on all the clocks and watches between the cathedral and Vita. It had her biting her lip for a few seconds resisting laughing as well. Men the size Boner was hardly seemed to be the type to being called names like ‘Boner’ unless there was a good reason. Any other time Dominique would have been rather interested in hearing how one earns such a name but their time was ticking away. People would be moving around soon and some were paying more attention than they should. This needed to happen and now that they were together it would.

“Kenlie is shotgun.” Dominique pressed playfully with her side into the woman. “Right?” Dominique would crawl towards the back and stare at the casket. The ride was hardly going to be too far anyways. “Ready to go?”

Dominique started stepping to the hearse and hoping they would be coming behind.

[Boner (DELETED 5853)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Kenlie: Kenlie very nearly made a comment in response, but when she felt her sister’s elbow nuding her, her mouth snapped shut and she smiled. She had no problems sitting up front with the man. It only meant she could ask ridiculous questions.

“Right,” she confirmed, nudging Dom in return before making her way to the passenger door. She opened it and ducked inside, shifting against the leather seat until she felt comfortable before closing herself in. Seeing that the car -- er, hearse -- was already running, she took it upon herself to lean forward and begin fiddling with the stereo settings.

Once she stumbled upon a station that was halfway through playing Santeria, she leaned back in her seat and turned to glance over her shoulder at Dom. When she looked back to watch the man beside her get in, she arched a ‘brow and rubbed her lips together, contemplating over her words. After a minute, she finally asked what was on her mind.

“So… How does someone get ‘Boner’ as their biker name?”


Boner: The large man got into the driver’s seat, the motion somewhere halfway between a struggle and graceful muscle memory. Kenlie, apparently, was already fiddling with the radio by the time he had made himself comfortable.

He hadn’t helped Dom into the back.

****.
Oh well. She was a big girl. Well not literally. She was svelt and-

Stop it. Her dead boyfriend was in the back.

He quirked a fluffy eyebrow in Kenlie’s direction as he turned to peer over his shoulder to make sure both women had successfully found their way into the vehicle. “I’m glad you’ve got not-awful taste in music so far. This ride might actually be pleasant.”

Hearse.

“As for my name, little lady.”

He turned back around and started compulsively checking all his mirrors. They hadn’t changed in the last fifteen minutes or so, but he had to make sure. His belt was left unbuckled. Sassy stomachs did not agree with being restrained.

“I used to be a fisherman, and I’d always gut and bone the fish when we got home with our part of the haul. We caught a swordfish one day after I’d started getting into taxidermy, and…”

He paused.

“Let’s just say my mother was not impressed with my decisions that day, and I still have my not so little token hanging on the wall in my house now.”

Boner began to drive.


Dominique: Dominique wiggled her way inside the back of the hearse and found herself rather wedged between the wall to wall carpet and the wood that encased Verne. She scooted her body upward and tried to think of reasons to not look at the casket but just like a train wreck you can only resist for so long. She was the one who died first...so to speak. She felt an overwhelming sense of belonging in there. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she leaned back against the the car interior. The ride would be brief. Her nose wiggled. Something was lingering and vying for her attention with the casket that was there. She folded up her legs and for the first time leaned over and took to resting her folded arms over the top and settled her head to the side.

“Boner…” Her voice raised above the sounds of the voices in the front. “Do you mind being a stand up guy and helping me and Kerlie Fry settling the casket into the spot that is ready and waiting? “

Dominique’s wide dark eyes traveled slowly across the surface of the casket beneath her left cheek as she waited for a response. The huge man didn’t appear to have any issues holding his own and seemed more than capable of taking hold of a casket or two when asked. Shoveling six feet of earth back down into its original hole would be enough work being that they were working against the clock. She had a feeling a few would hardly approve at what she was doing. How long it would be before they came snooping around was the question.

Dominique pressed her lips to the casket beneath her then patted the wood surface gently. Whew! She rubbed her nose. Someone polished the wood surface really well just before the service.


Kenlie: To Boner’s response to her choice in music, Kenlie snorted softly and gave a grin. “Sublime is one of my favorites,” she told him as she grabbed her seat belt and pulled it across her front. Once it clicked into place, she settled back and snaked an arm behind her to feel for Dom’s hand. “Listened to them all through high school.”

Once she found her sister’s fingers, she clutched them gently and squeezed. Even harder when Boner began to answer her question about his nickname, and in doing so mentioned taxidermy. Her complexion (which was pretty normal despite her undead condition) paled a considerably, rather quickly. She swallowed.

“You…” For a split second, she almost asked if he ‘stuffed things’ for fun. Realizing real quick just how wrong that would sound, she cleared her throat and started over. “You practice taxidermy as a hobby…?” Her voice went up in pitch a good octave or so.

It was Dom’s voice that dragged her head out of that place where all she saw was animal heads mounted on a wall. She’d never wrap her mind around why people did that, whether it was just decoration or to honor a dead pet. It was just ******* wrong. And creepy. Like something she had seen on Hannibal, where a man’s body had been filled with silicone and then sprayed with something that kept him frozen in place. A real doll.

Her mind took another dark turn as she thought of someone doing such a thing to Verne. A shudder raced down her spine, and she swallowed hard in an effort to loosen up her throat. It didn’t do much good, as was apparent in the new rasp her voice had taken on. “Yeah… a little more muscle would save us some time, I guess…”

Kenlie lifted her hand from Dominique’s so she could brush the first knuckle of her middle finger against her suddenly dry, chapped lips. The expression in her eyes was distant and lifeless as she turned to look out the window, watching the empty road and wilderness pass them by. It seemed that she had remembered what exactly they were in that hearse for in the first place. At least their driver had lightened the mood for a good minute.


Boner: Boner looked into his rear view to watch Dominique while she spoke, hands settling onto the steering wheel and gear shift after he shoved his toes onto the brake pedal.

The vehicle jerked a little as the transmission eased itself into drive. He grunted. These were supposed to be smooth rides. The man supposed they also weren't meant to carry the weight of a body in a coffin and a body the size of a coffin at the same time.

Oh well. The place he had been told about was not all that far from what he knew.

"I wouldn't mind helping you ladies, no. I figured there might be somthin' aside from just hauling you all a couple miles down the way, so I made sure I don't have nothin' else to do the rest of the evening."

He cocked an eyebrow at Kenlie next, foot lifting to allow the vehicle to start slowing moving from its place as he tried to take in the spectrum of emotion visible across her face. He almost chuckled at the sound of her voice when she spoke next.

"Like I said. I'm much obliged to help. The emotional weight seems hard enough to handle for the both of you. Don't need you popping veins trying to haul that thing around when you can't even think straight."

He sniffed once, and eyed the sound system in the vehicle once the song changed over.

Some song by a different band he had not taken a lot of time to listen to. He found it was close to his liking, though, and didn't make him want to shove a bobby pin into his ear drums to save himself the torture of something more unpleasant making him go deaf. Girl singing sounded like she was right out of the eighties.

"And. Swordfish don't have dicks if that helps you feel any better, sweetheart. They spawn. Whales, though. Those're a different story."


Dominique: There was a sense of needing to reach out that pulled her from the casket at her legs. She lifted up and hiked her dress up enough not to strangle herself as she moved a bit towards the back of the front seat. HOPE wrapped instinctively around Kenlie’s fingers to confirm the search for her sister would never leave her waiting long. Dominique would always be there for the woman who came to her life in the most unexpected way. Kenlie was her saving grace in the eye of the storm she currently tried to navigate her sanity through. Her chin rested behind the two and her nose wiggled again. Kenlie’s fingers left her own and it was then that she took the release as a chance to lean back against the head of the casket and prop her feet flat to the carpeted interior.

The hearse began to rock gently with the movement on its way towards the chosen spot. Boner looked in the rear view mirror and she met his gaze a moment before it left. A good man was hard enough to find. One that was willing to break a few unspoken laws in the eyes of the church as well as some about not burying people in your own backyard was even harder to come up with. He was a large man and she would guess inside was a heart that was proportional to his size. Perhaps his history was too. She cocked her head and looked out through the dark tinted windows in the back. With the velvet curtains parted a few inches of space she was able to watch her chosen world go by.

Vita Bella from this view was a dark place. The sunshine had forsaken it and perhaps this was the mercy she and her sister would be shown. Their fates were much different than the man encased in the wood. It was all final. She would see an infinite amount of time with what had taken place through far darker eyes. Her brown aching orbs shifted back from the place that love for family, hopes and dreams had been built and rested on the back of her sister’s beautiful head. Her throat grew tight as if it was possible she could still breathe. Then and there she swore there would be no more tears. Nothing would change the course of things. Kenlie needed her to be strong and keep her safe.

“I appreciate the willingness to help, Boner.” She thought the name was not so odd now. It fit like a glove. “I never knew that.” It was as if she was late for everything the last several days and nights. Sword fish didn’t have dicks. Her dark head nodded as it made sense. Whales did. Her eyes slowly widened and blinked at the same time. Boner knew his marine life well.

[Kenlie (DELETED 4989)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Kenlie: "And. Swordfish don't have dicks if that helps you feel any better, sweetheart.”

Well. You learn something new every day.

“Oh, yeah,” she stated with none too little sarcasm in her tone. “Loads.” Her lips tilted up into a crooked little smile to show she wasn’t being a total *****. The smile was gone as soon as it had appeared.

As Vita Bella came into view, Kenlie was the first to unbuckle her seat belt and sit up with one hand on the door handle. Once the hearse had come to a slight stop, she opened it up and made to climb out. The door shut behind her, and in the same motion she began to walk around the back to open up the hatch that would let them access the casket. First, though, she offered Dom her hand to help her out.


Boner: Boner eased into the short silence that followed as the trio (quartet? ... eh.) got closer to Vita Bella. He hadn't even had the chance to bring the car to a full stop to ask where exactly on the grounds they were going before Kenlie was already out of her belt and behind the vehicle. He finished pressing his foot to the brake pedal and shifted the transmission into park. He left the engine running as he got out. "So.." He sniffed once, fingers lifting to rub over his moustache. "Where are I helpin' you ladies get this to? We can look an' point if we need to."


Dominique: Dominique took the hand that was offered and her body pulled with the coolness of her sister's hand. Her eyes met those the same hue as her own and if there was a reason to smile it would be later when all was said and done. A sigh escaped her lips It had to be done. Everyone that had gathered earlier to see what they expected to likely were parting ways back at the Cathedral cemetery. Here is where the man with the sun weaved in his golden mane would finally rest. "I think you will find it is ready. took some work but we have the easy part… if there is one in all of this." She nodded to the visible huge casket shaped hole with a massive amount of dirt piled next to it and three shovels..


Kenlie: Kenlie tried to offer her sister a slight, reassuring smile. She tried, but she didn't succeed. Instead, all she could do was squeeze the woman's hand tightly in her own and then give her back a rub. She let Dom do all the talking from there on out. The seriousness of this moment had settled in, and quick. They were actually saying goodbye.


Dominique: Dominique walked with heavy steps that felt like the ground beneath could swallow her up at any moment instead. this was hard enough to think about but now she was waiting for the back of the hearse to open with the massive mans help. She would have to wrap her petite strong hands onto the side of this finely polished wood she had purchased and bring it to the earth beneath her that they shared with the man within and sink him gently six feet below. She looked to Kenlie as her feet paused. A tiny lift of the right side of her lips was all she could manage. Finally she perked up with the strength she needed and looked to Boner. "Ready?" She never would be.

[Boner (DELETED 5853)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Boner: Boner looked to where Dom had tipped her head, pleased that Kenlie had actually gotten out of the car not too far from where they needed to be. He took another step toward the back of the hearse and eased himself around the base of the wooden box to begin slowly pulling it from the plush flooring it sat on. He'd experienced enough death by now that it didn't phase him as much as it did many, but he could still feel for the two women he was helping. It's one reason he had fallen in to this line of work. Last wishes and hopes were necessary for closure and peace, and if it meant hijacking bodies and taking them away from their original burial grounds, then so be it. "If you ladies want to take a hold of the bottom half of this, I've got the top."


Kenlie: Kenlie released Dominique's hand so she could turn and grab onto the handle of the casket. Without what looked like much effort at all, she began to draw it out of its space and then stood there, holding it up and waiting for Boner to get into place.


Dominique: Dominique took the side into her grip and felt strong enough to carry the weight of the the world if needed and then some as she lifted. Why they had to do this at all was not a question she would ask herself until later...perhaps when she was alone. When she was no longer numb with loss.


Boner: Boner hauled his end of the coffin up with just as much ease as the two (significantly smaller) women at the other end, though with far less grace. He pulled the weight of the wooden encasement up slightly, so that the arms sat higher up his sides and the frame of it rested over some of his belly as a makeshift shelf of sorts. It just.. made things easier, with just three of them. Dom was in charge of all this, but Boner lead the way, turning his stride until the hole close to his feet lined up with the casket in tow. He lifted a 'brow, and waited for the other two women to signify they were ready.


Kenlie: Kenlie followed the man's pace, ensuring that she wouldn't knock him off balance. Once they came to the grave they'd dug, Kenlie glanced across to her sister and chewed on her lip in silent question. -Was- she really ready? Was she, herself, ready? Her gaze moved from Dominique to the casket they all held, and she gave a shaky sigh. "On your word, Dom."

[Dominique]

Dominique felt the weight of all that should not be as it is was in her hands at the moment that Kenlie spoke. She started letting her end sink a bit while they were on solid ground. What she was about to do made no sense. To Verne it totally would. She swallowed hard. It was one of those things like a wreck taking place. You didn't want to look, shouldn't look but something pulled you into doing just what you tried to avoid. "Forgive me… really do if you can but I need to set the man down for a final word and need the casket open to do it." Jesus… did she just say that? She itched her cheek and felt it so she must have.

Dominique waited for the casket to land on the ground and once it had been she moved her hands to opening the top. In her mind she was okay with the attempt she was now making. People did this all the time. She had done it before.

Jane Dominique Doe over ten years ago stood in the NYC cathedral beside grandmother and did this with her grandfather. She opened the locks at the side with shaking fingers. She watched them and soon saw those colors over the top of each finger fade to reveal her teenage hands. They were mimicking the movements of what they did back home. Slowly the top was rising for the widow by her side. She ached as she watched. The woman who was the only one she feared gently removed the wedding ring she placed upon that cold stiff finger that had been loyal for over fifty years. He died keeping a promise that most in this day and age would never come close to appreciating or understanding. Dominique did. Her grandmother always reminded her that your word was worth more than life itself. It was enough to see her grandmothers aged hands curl up to cover the plain gold band cradled in her palm. She lifted then flipped her petite hands and lowered the top so that her grandfather could finally rest.

It was difficult but she did it then and she was about to once more. Again Dominique looked down and there she saw death. It had consumed what she thought was unbreakable and swallowed its spirit up so that a cruel shell of a reminder made up of flesh and bone was all that was left. Anger began to stir again at what she could not change. To ease the pain and hopelessness she distracted herself with what covered the man. A suit. She had never seen Verne in one or had she? She felt the tightening of her frustrated and sleep deprived jaws. She leaned down and did the oddest thing.

As if this act alone should be expected, Dominique’s face softened suddenly and her fingers went carefully about the bizarre act of formally untying his perfect ‘never touched the ground to take a step’ shoes. Each one was removed carefully and tucked under her arms so that neither would ever be on the dirt. She gingerly peeled each sock from the dead mans feet and then went to work carefully replacing and tying back on each dress shoe as if she could wake him by doing this.

Once that was complete she removed from her left hip pocket at the side seam of her black plain dress a simple green rosary crafted of worn beads that her grandmother held routinely as far back as she could remember. She brought them to her lips, kissing them before she placed them around his lifeless but still beautiful hands. She knew they would be safe in his far more deserving care. She looked to the mountain of a man next to her and Kenlie and smiled. The socks she removed disappeared from view as they were tucked away for safe keeping.

[Boner (DELETED 5853)]

Grief did strange things to people sometimes. He was not entirely sure why the woman on the ground wanted to keep a dead man’s socks, but… he had seen far, far, FAR stranger on more than one occasion before.

He had settled his weight evenly between his heels after settling the casket onto the ground and taking a step back, simply watching and waiting as Dominique performed her ritual. He tried to smile in return once one was offered to him after she was finished. The hair on his face probably did hide most of the gesture, but he managed to make a visible upturn to the corners of his mouth make it through.

The colour of the beads now placed in the dead man’s hands reminded him of the colour of the sky while he had been out at sea one night. A terrible storm had rocked the fishing boat through the entire night and a fair bit of the next day. He looked up to the man’s face briefly. He could see why Dominique would have been upset about his passing based on aesthetics alone.

“Are we ready, then?”

[Kenlie (DELETED 4989)]

“Not yet.”

She spoke up in a voice that she didn’t recognize as her own; shaky, dry and very weak. After clearing her throat, Kenlie dug out her house keys and turned to Dom. “I have to grab something. Wait here… Please?”

Before either Boner or her sister could give her a response, Kenlie was running up the front steps of Vita Bella and unlocking the door to get inside. Several minutes passed before that same door opened, and she had in her hand a small, velvet sack dangling from her fingers. The woman walked back up to the casket as she upended the bag to drop three rings into her other palm.

“After I found out… I had to find something to do with myself. Do something with my hands, work through the guilt; you know?” Her voice wavered as she spoke and tenderly brushed her fingers over the metal she was holding.

“These are made from the first sword he ever gave me. It was a St. James… tough as nails, as swift as… I don’t know. Somethin’.” She couldn’t be as poetic as she wanted to be, but she hoped that Dom understood what she was trying to say. The sword, which she had melted down into jewelry, had brought her peace and security. It had given her confidence and strength.

Gently, Kenlie took one of the smaller rings and pressed it into Dom’s fingers. “Cherish it like you cherished him. Don’t think about the loss or the pain any of this caused. Think about how much we laughed when he cut his toenails, or how incredibly stoned we all were when we crashed at the bar.” Though her eyes were shimmering with tears, there was a smile filled with amusement and reminisce on her face. “Think about how well he loved you.” Those were the last words Kenlie spoke before she leaned forward to kiss her sister’s brow and then turned to the man in the casket.

One slow step at a time, she approached the wooden box and let her eyes travel his suited up frame until they found his face. Her heart wrenched and she barely held back a sob as inked knuckles met her trembling mouth to keep it at bay. It took her a minute to gain full composure before she took the largest, gold ring in her fingers and bent towards Verne’s body.

As shaking fingers fumbled with the blonde’s digits to slip the ring onto one of them, tears slid from Kenlie’s cheeks and fell to dampen the fabric of his tie. Once it was finally placed onto his right ring finger, she wiped her nose and sniffled. There were so many words she wanted to say to him; so, so many. She just couldn’t walk away without saying a few. With her voice at the volume of something beneath a whisper, she leaned close and fixed the placement of the man’s hands so they were perfect.

“You have saved my life,” were the first words to spill from her lips--her heart. “You gave me purpose, and laughter, and light...”

As she trailed off for a moment, Kenlie bit her quivering lower lip and swallowed thickly. For that brief lapse in time, she actually took the man’s hand in her own and squeezed, as if he would return the gesture even in death.

“You’re the older brother I didn’t realize I had.”

Finally, Kenlie bent further so she could press a very brief kiss to the man’s cheek. “Thank you,” was whispered against his skin before she drew back with just one ring left in her hand. She didn’t care to wipe the evidence of tears from her face as she took a few steps back from the coffin.

[Dominique]

The time that was spent watching Kenlie retreat to their home...the one that was built for all who they shared their bond that linked them as an eclectic close knit family. She caught her breath as the night are whipped about as soon as Kenlie had taken her brief leave. Her eyes felt dry in their sockets and to move them about to glance quietly from Boner reminded her of fine sandpaper against her skin. The shifted to the sprawling woods that served as a shadowed silhouette behind the shoulders that stretched low and to each side then back to the man’s bushy face.

“I…” Her words ended there when she heard the doors close and the sprint of Kenlie’s feet bringing her back. A part of her wished she would move slower. The part that would ignore everything tht was reasonable to keep Verne visible that much longer. Time was not their friend. It seemed to have forsaken all of them. With all that they were to have at their disposal after turning the man between them lifeless had proved time no longer had value. Not for Dominique anyways. Her lips failed to produce the smile she attempted and she opted to focus on Kenlie as she began to speak and pay her respects.

The rings were mizpah. They embraced the meaning of its symbolism after buying Vita Bella. Protection. A place to be safe and watched over even if one was absent from the other. Dominique’s tears returned. She thought she had none left. She was wrong as Kenlie spoke of moments she could never forget. She brought the ring and her hand to her lips and closed her eyes. As Kenlie finished speaking and slid the ring to its place on his right hand she opened her own hand and stepped forward and kissed her cheek once she stood back up.

“Please..” She took her sisters hand and slid the ring on the same right finger and smiled beneath the tears that fell from her cheeks. “Wear this always and remember we are family and that which brought us together even before that. Never lose that heart or forsake the bond that ties us together. Wherever you go you shall never lose your way back home and to us.” She brought the inked hand in her own and kissed the ring.

Releasing Kenlie’s hand she stepped once more and knelt for the final time at Verne’s side and stared at those soul capturing eyes and wept as she kissed his lips. Right then and there she died all over again.

“If death thought it could part us…” She gasped a soft amount of night air as she stood. “It was wrong. I love you. I always have.” She pulled the casket lid down gently and kissed the top of it. “And I will even more tomorrow.”

Dominique looked to Kenlie and Boner as she gripped the handle closest to her and felt the casket rise with their joined efforts towards the deeper than she expected hole that was the perfect fit for the wooden coffin. Slowly it settled down into the earth bed below despite the weight and awkward shape in such a confined space. Her fingers released the first of the dirt to sift below. She watched each particle surrender to its final resting spot. Standing back up and looking around briefly she finally located the shovels that would make the moving of all the dirt back where it belonged. Left with nothing more to say she began the work of shoveling the cold mountain of Canadian soil back to into the grave. He was finally at rest. Her eyes stared at the space where the hole had been and now remaining for proof it was there at all was the loose dark soil that shadowed the ground where it was open less than an hour before. She pushed the shovel down and looked up at the dark sky above her as everything faded into what it would have to be without his physical presence. They all would carry on. What other choice was there? They all would do just that and they did.