Matty's Funeral
Players: Laurent Passe, Kitty, Jander, Daniel Wallace, Marc, Eugene, Evalyn, Pixie, Artesia, Matrix, Lyn
NPCs: Corpse of Madison Radcliffe, Priest Sergie Stravinsky, Anna Radcliffe, Michael Radcliffe, Vladamir (local town toughie)
Player Descriptions
This young woman stands just a little above average height, with a slender, graceful build reminiscent of a dancer. Long legs further enhance her graceful image. Her heart-shaped face is further defined by large, frosty blue eyes with slightly upturned corners that hint at possible Asian ancestry, a small, aristocratic nose, and full lips that are set in a slight, but perpetual thoughtful frown over a slightly pointed chin. A mane of straight ash-blonde hair falls to the small of her back, when it is not tied or otherwise restrained.
A close-fitting black mandarin dress trimmed in gold skims over her lithe figure and falls to an inch or two above her mid-calves, its modest high collar keeping a little more up to the viewer's imagination while still leaving her arms bare. Long slits in the sides of the skirt that terminate an inch or so below her mid-thighs allow her more freedom of movement. Black thigh-high stockings sheath her legs in shadow. A pair of black slippers trimmed in gold encases her feet. A long dark grey trench coat of an elegant cut and style flows over the dress, hiding a little more until she moves. Her hair is braided into a single thick plait that falls nearly to the middle of her back, its end tied with a brilliant crimson ribbon printed in gold with Chinese characters.
Daniel is dressed in a fine, well tailored black tuxedo. The tux looks to have been tailor made to specifically fit his tall and slim form. Black slacks cover his long legs, neatly pressed without a single wrinkle. Down the outside of either leg, directly down the middles is a stripe of black satin, that has a slight shine to it. Tucked into his slacks is a neatly pressed and crisp white, button up shirt. The buttons have been covered with black pearl button covers which are accented with small diamonds around the circumference of the pearls. At the neck of the shirt is a black bow tie, centered directly in the middle of his neck. Covering his shirt and coming down to just below his waist is a black, double breasted tuxedo jacket. The jacket is closed around his form and is accented with the same satin strip of material, as his pants. The satin runs along the outer edges of the jacket, where the buttons are. The cuffs of the jacket are accented with cuff links that match the button covers of his shirt. On Daniel's feet are a pair of highly polished, black dress shoes.
Prepared for the cold, she is bundled in a heavy wool coat; black in color it drapes loosely over her slender frame, perhaps it was intended for someone a bit bigger. A thick scarf is wrapped around her neck and tied neatly in a knot, it's sombre grey color matching the gloves that poke out from her coat-sleeves. As covered up as she is, all that can be seen of the rest of her outfit consists of a pair of black dress pants and the toes of the black boots worn underneath.
The Frenchman is wearing rather nice clothes today. He is sporting a rather rich looking, dark grey suit. It has a nice, soft sheen to it, the kind not seen often outside of formal affairs. Underneath the jacket is a black silk shirt, buttoned most of the way up. The long sleeves can be seen peeking out of the coat arms. On his feet are a polished pair of dress shoes. All in all, it seems like he's dressed up for something.
A fine double breasted vest fits over the man's torso, a field of electric blue silk overlaid with a subdued blue-grey floral pattern; the same is to be said of the rear, save it is in black and charcoal. In the small of his back a fitting belt common to formalwear keeps the vest snug. Two rows of silver buttons fall down the front, moonwhite silver to match the full-sleeved shirt worn beneath. The collar is practically perfunctory, barely folding over the wrap of a glistening satin cravat. Something between scarf and necktie, the thick black band wraps round his neck before spilling over itself from behind at the throat, voluminous folds billowing over the collar of the vest into which it is tucked. Formal slacks complete with creases down the front and rear of the legs are next, a wool blend whose graphite shade matches the rear of his vest. Blue on black snakeskin ducks out from beneath the pants, pointed riding boots capped with brushed steel.
The man is clad in heavy militaristic style clothing fitting for cold weather climates. A thick black parka covers his frame, and should stave off the cold very nicely. Underneath the coat the man wears more traditional BDU garb, the camo is detailed in urban digital splitter. Blacks, grays, and off white pixel squares making up the design. His trousers are bloused into off-white canvas gaiters that cover a pair of black combat boots. Across his waist is a mil-spec web belt, it holds two pouches for magazines, a canteen, a non-descript knife, compass pocket, and the leg rig for his sidearm.
The person standing before you is a rather thin-looking guy, just over 6 feet tall. He has jet black hair, cut in a crewcut-ish style at around 3 centimeters long, save for a slightly longer fringe, falling on his high forehead. His face is long and narrow, and also a little on the pale side, as if he spent too much time away from the sun. There is usually a small smile lingering on his thin lips and in his dark brown eyes.
An outfit obviously meant for low temperatures adorns his body. The external layer consists of a heavy grey overcoat, worn with its collar raised and completely buttoned up. Under it, a black sweater can be glimpsed, sitting on his upper body. The man's legs are covered by a pair of black cargo pants, the pant legs neatly tucked into the combat boots worn on his feet.
Tall about 5'7" and weighing about 135, She is muscular and yet trim. Her black hair is cut fairly short but seems to curl to about her shoulders. Her dark eyes are framed by dark thick lashes. Her black nicely shaped brows are pierced at the ends with a silver ring each. Her straight nose has a silver colored stone. Her lips are a nice peach color. Her tongue is pierced with a silver dumbell. Both ears sport a number of rings up and around the woral.
She is dressed in a black sheath. Very little style to the basic black dress but it is indeed perfect. She wears black beeds and a black hat. the high heels are also black over black stockings.
Currently off work, she has changed clothing, opting for something a bit more feminine in design that flatters and accents. A tight, midriff baring, dark blue t-shirt has been tugged over her head, the front of which has an image of a large anime cat's face upon it, one who wears a red bow before its left ear. A pair of jeans ride low upon her hips, the stonewashed denim held in place by a thin black belt made of unembellished leather. The legs of the pants bunch up along the tops of black 'jungle boots', the laces of which are tightened but left untied. More often than not, a Slipshot can be found holstered at her right thigh and an armored duster is worn. Her hair's currently left down and is brushed into soft waves and her face has been lightly made-up in an attempt to go for a 'natural look'.
Main Building - Baikal Mining Settlement - St. Albans =>St. Albans<=
This is the only large building in the settlement that isn't a warehouse, though it looks as if it started out as one. Added to it is a steeple with a bell and to the sides are several smaller rooms that appear to serve as offices. The large room, however, serves as both schoolhouse and church. On weekdays the floor space is occupied with desks and on Sundays the pews are moved into place from where they are stored at the back of the building. At the front is an alter, which has a large wooden cross upon it, while the walls are painted with icons of the various saints, central to the community's belief in the Russian Orthodox faith.
The main building of Baikal is a good refuge against the biting cold of the mining settlement. It is a somber atmosphere inside the main room, pews have been setup and there are a few clusters of small groups of people, all talking in whispered tones. Up at the front is a black casket, the lid open, and a humble bouquet of flowers on top. To one side sits an couple appearing to be in their 50s, wearing dark clothes. The man is consoling the woman, who has a handkerchief out and is dabbing her eyes.
Up near the front pew, a preacher is speaking softly to a gentleman in a dark suit with curly hair. He's a pilot and known by most people as just Passe. A few nods are exchanged between the two, and then the preacher returns to the older couple and Passe inhales deeply, turning to look out across the room.
Daniel Wallace walks into the Main Building of the Baikal Mining Settlement on St. Albans, he was dressed in a fine well tailored black tuxedo, his Father's Browncoat pulled around him for warmth (See: @desc) At his side, an Officer's Saber hung from his belt.
Artesia has arrived.
A somber figure in black drifts in, fitting the atmosphere perfectly in appearance as well as in demeanor. Wearing a black frock coat over a woman's 'suit' of an equally dark hue, Kitty moves to sit in the back, her steps heavy, shuffling.
Pix has arrived.
And behind her comes a rather thickly built man wearing a black military uniform. The tie, the buttons, everything is a matte midnight, though keen eyes could see that the arms are a little bit sun-bleached around the places that chevrons and patches have been removed. His own all-weather jacket is folded and draped over the man's forearm, and as they approach their appointed seats Jander places a hand on Kitty's shoulder to direct the doubltess distracted dame.
The next person in is Matrix. The man closes the door behind him, and looks around the room. Spotting one vaguely familiar face, he moves towards Passe. "Mr. Passe, it's been a long time." he says in a serious tone as he approaches, offering a hand to shake. Glancing towards the couple and the priest, he then quietly whispers to the French pilot, "And honestly, I wish we could meet under better circumstances."
Daniel Wallace moves over to one side and puts himself off to the side, his green eyes scanning for someone he might know, he kept his back striate and his hands at his sides, more or less at attention. The mans open Browncoat flowed around him as he moved. Daniel's face looked to be carved from stone, somber and respectful, it cracked with a small smile, before returning to normal, somehow he was keeping his wits about him. Daniel's shoes sounded slightly on the floor, heal toe, heal toe, as he folded into that corner, looking around again slowly.
Marc makes his way into the building where the service is being held, for most it was probably a solemn experience..death seemed to have that effect on people. But something just wasn't sitting right, the planet itself was quite depressing. This wasn't the first time somebody he knew met there end here. Plus the very fact that he himself was born and raise on this god forsaken place wasn't much consolation. But that's not to say Marc was in any form of dismal, he was here because camaraderie dictated it. And being the near friendless as that he was, common sense dictated he sat in the back pews, filing in with silence.
Lyn has arrived.
Pix slips in the back sometime after her shipmates have already arrived. Redemption's Ops Officer is dressed in bright orange, seeing as it's the fanciest thing she owns. Atop her head a black cowboy hat has been added, the only touch of the mouring color to her person. A white beaded rosary is wrapped loosely around one wrist, though she keeps her hands clasped behind her back. The boisterous young Pixie looks a bit out of place in such a proceeding, but she's doing her best to behave. The smoke she had on the way in helped. "Just a funeral, Pixie-sticks," she murmurs to herself. "What's the worst that could happen?" Somebody's already dead, right? Right. It'll be fine. It'll be ok. Right.
Kitty looks at Jander once he's seated next to her, her eyes already brimming with tears. There are no words spoken by her but he should know what's on his girl's heart. The pain and anguish along with every other emotion she's feeling right now.
Small groups are clustering around the pews before the funeral begins, all quiet and whispering, and a preacher and an older couple are at the head of the room. There is one person already dead, laying in a coffin with the lid open. Let's just hope that no one else dies tonight.
A long time indeed, so long that Passe cannot remember the fellows name, though does remember where he saw him last. Passe shakes Matrix's hand and offers him a somber smile with a nod. "Yes, since that trip we took out to Three Hills," he replies to the man. "A real shame what happened to that bird. The Chaos Theory was a solid ship." Passe looks past him and spots a few of his crew and offers them a grin.
Jander helps his girl into her seat and takes her coat into his lap. One hand remains under their jackets, while the one nearest Kitty cups her hand in his own. "I'm here, Kitten," anyone within a few paces could hear him grumble during an unpredictable moment of silence in the room. >.>
Lyn walks into the building looking about her. She does not see any one she knows well and so finds herself a place on a pew and folds her gloved hands in her lap. She peeks through the black demi veil hanging from her hat. There is a calmness about her that belies her active eyes.
Evalyn has arrived.
Eugene enters after a bit after Marc and heads in his direction, pulling off her gloves and rubbing her frozen hands together as she slides into the pew next to him. Settling in, she unbuttons her heavy wool coat and folds it neatly over her lap, revealing the dark cardigan ensemble she wears underneath.
After a few more people drift in, the preacher gives the couple a few more words and then rises, moving to the podeum. He clears his throat, giving the stragglers a moment or two to end their conversations and find a seat.
"It feels like the 'verse is trying to get rid of us all, I swear." Matrix notes, nodding at Passe's words. When he sees the Frenchman look past him, he follows the gaze to the Redemption's present crewmembers. "Let's see. Sujiko is off doing his own security work, Ash and Bishop are either having loads of fun together or dead, Torres... God knows where, and Delilah went back to Lilac." he ticks off the Theory's last crew, and shakes his head at the total lack of attendance among his former comrades.
Artesia slips inside, carefully leaving her coat with the usher near the door as she moves quietly deeper into the chapel. Her eyes roam over the somber gathering, but find no familiar faces... save in the back pew. Moving that way, she finds an empty seat to one side of Marc, on the opposite side from Eugene, giving him a tiny, brief smile. "Hallo, shipmate," she murmurs.
Evalyn, too, makes her way into the building, a sort of ponderous look on her face as she takes in the small crowd. Sighting a few of her peers, she moves along back to sit in that row, somewhat crowding up the little pew as she slides in next to Artesia. A gentle smile is given to the woman-- before she gives a reserved, friendly little nod to those sitting by her.
Pixie glances around again just as Passe looks over. She offers him a little finger-wave that is far too perky, then eyeshifts and shoves her hand behind her back again, fingers clasping once more. She picks up the pace and finds a place to sit, naturally gravitating toward Jander and Kitty, though she sits behind them without a word. "Hi guys," she whispers, a little too loudly. Okay, with only two words. "Sorry." Okay, three. She does a little eyeshift, then sits back, hands in her lap now. She fiddles with the little cross on the termination of the rosary in her hands, then reaches up to gnaw on a thumbnail, eyes sweeping to the coffin. Gnaw.
Kitty turns slightly as she gives Jander's hand a soft squeeze, Pix smiled to as soon as she realizes who it is. "Hey, Pixie." Her body shifts upon the pew she sits on and she returns to facing full foward again, watching people get settled in and talk, taking special notice as to who it is Passe speaks to. She doesn't recognize Matrix but she does nod a bit, a silent greeting to the two men that they may or may not notice.
Lyn slips her Sable off her shoulders and settles into the pew with out regard to if someone else might need the seating. She is there and she likes her space. The large fur tends to take up space. She pushes a loose strand of black hair behind an ear and waits for the program.
Eugene glances over at Artesia as she joins them, offering an amiable smile to her, and Evalyn, returning the nod and a mouthed 'Heya Eva'. Then she turns her calm gaze back to the front of the room, and the preacher who looks like he might be about to start.
Passe naturally winks at Pix before turning to nod to Matrix, "Oui, Matty had mentioned something along those lines." Before he can say much more though, he notices the preacher and quietly indicates to Matrix that he will be taking a seat. He remains where he is, however, up at the front, and is for the most part the only person in this particular pew.
The hand comes out from under Jander's coat as he turns, and reaches back to offer Pix a handshake. Not knowing the deceased, he can be a calm anchor in the storm to come. "(Why don't you sit up here with us?)" the man mostly mouths; he gives her a smile, pats the chair next to himself once his hand is let go. After her response, he settles back down next to Kitty, squeezing her hand reassuringly.
Marc raises a hand up to his head and pulls off his beret as his other hand runs itself through his head t omake sure it's in decent shape. He lets his back settle into the pew with a few wooden creaks as Genie moves in next to him. He gives the woman silent look before his attention is stolen by Sia, a smirk parts his lips for a moment. "Been awhile, Sia." He comments, as he looks past his former shipmate to give Eva a nod hello.
Matrix gives a quiet nod at Passe's hint, and makes his way towards a mostly-unoccupied pew closer to the back of the room. On his way he gives a nod to another person he vaguely remembers, Kitty. He sits down in the pew, and mutters entirely to himself, "Who said atheists stick out?" before straightening his clothes a bit and turning his attention to the priest.
Pixie, not usually one to shake, gives Jander a little low five after nodding to Kitty. The slap of hands is a little loud in a lull in the complete lack of conversation, before she scoots out of her pew, and heavy-boot-stomp-slides around to sit next to Jander. Thump. Eyeshift. Fingernail-gnaw. "Kay."
Sia exchanges quick smiles with Eugene and Marc, then with Evalyn. "Good day to you, Miss," she says to her most recent seatmate, then quiets for the service. "Such a tragedy... I barely knew her, yet what little I got to know gained my respect. A pity she never joined the Guild, but I suppose it was not her way."
Evalyn gives something of a shrug, eyes flitting about wildly between her companions and the preacher up front. "Pleasure t'you, too," she gently murmurs, before sort of settling back into her seat. She chews on her lip, as though contemplating a remark to join it...but simply smiles, and nods, saying simply; "She was good people."
Eugene has left.
The preacher looks up and satisfied that the general murmur has for the most part ceased, he turns and looks to the cross. He lowers his head and offerst the Prayer of Absolution in Russian. After making the sign of the cross, he turns back to face the audience. "Ladies and Gentleman," he addresses the crowd, a slight Russian accent in his words. "We thank you for coming to the funeral of Madison Radcliffe. I am Sergie Stravinsky, and have been the Priest here for longer than I care to remember." He smiles somberly at the casket. "I've known Matty for a long time, and I am glad to see that she came home at last." He exhales and puts on a smile.
"At the request of the Radcliffes," Priest Stravinsky continues, and nods politely to the older couple sitting to the side, "This will be a rather untraditional service. We will first hear a eulogy from Laurent Passe, and then we open the podium to anyone who wishes to share any words about Madison." He nods to the Frenchman in the front row and then steps to one side.
Jander pats Pix' shoulder, beaming an avuncular smile to the girl. Not to be seen ignoring the one he came with, Cousse lifts Kitty's hand up to his own and presses his lips to her fingers. He sets her hand down during the prayer, and holds the one near Pix palm-up--having been to a few different services to know it's polite to offer during a prayer.
Marc just nods to Sia's and Eva's comments about Matty as the Russian bastard begins the service. In all she Madison wasn't a sell out, unlike somebody else he knew, but this was her day so he would do his best to keep the thinking that way too. He cleared his throat a little after Sergie stepped off the stage, his Russian name reminding him of his soviet bloc brand cigarette's rubbing maliciously against his breast.
Pixie glances over, then stops chewing her nail. She smiles and clasps that hand with Jander's. What's a little slobber between crewmates curing a prayer? She clears her throat softly, bows her head, and listens. She glances around now and then, but subtle-like.
The corssing's mirrored by Kitty as she begins to pray, perhaps one who follows the Catholic faith or something similar that uses the same gesture, the kiss to her hand getting her to blush and look at him as well as Pix, smiling even as she mouths her own silent prayer.
Lyn does not move. She does not bow her head or raise her hands or anything. Her eyes close for teh length of the prayer and then open at the appropriate moment. Other than that, her soft breathing might tell you she is still there. She is motionless.
Evalyn leans forwards somewhat, intently staring at the man who speaks, hands clasped in a sort of platform beneath her chin.
Passe nods to the preacher and stands up, approaching the podium. He pulls out a small piece of paper, and looking at it, takes a deep breath. He looks up at the audience, and pauses. Looking down at the casket, he tucks his paper into his coat and smiles. "Matty, mon amie," he begins softly, and then looks out at the crowd. "In preparing for this, I thought about researching into her life. But it seems more appropriate to tell you what I know of her. I remember when I first met Matty, on Persephone, outside of her ship, the Chaos Theory. She was hovering like a hawk over Delilah. Don't let that grubby Frenchman near the ship's cook!" He cracks a smile, a cute dimple on his cheek, relishing on the memory.
Passe continues, "And then there was Thanksgiving dinner. Got to know her and the crew a bit more. Then, as time went on, I got to meet her on different occassions. It wasn't until recently that I truly got to know her well. And I have to say, I regret the time I lost not knowing her as well as I did." He looks fondly down at the casket in front of him, a smile on his lips, his eyes starting to water.
Sia adopts an attitude of prayer as the prayer begins, her head bowed and her eyes gently shut, clasped hands held before her, under her chin. She listens, unable to understand the Russian, but guessing some of its meaning.
Kitty's tears, the ones that had been held barely in check, start to fall and it isn't long before those are followed by a single sob. She's distraught and there's now no way she'll be calmed or reassured.
Jander squeezes the girls' hands now and then as he listens to the sermon. He's glancing between his crewmates--all three of them--and the reflection of the door in a large window. The awareness lets him know when it's time to let go of Kitty's hand and fish out a handkerchief to dab at her tears.
Daniel Wallace stands there in the back of the room, framed by his fathers browncoat, again his back was a little strater then before, his face a little harder then before. Daniel was a child of a military family, his emotions firmly under control in every movement of his body, his green eyes, were the only window into his soul and it was clear to anyone who might be looking that he felt a connection with her, Daniel had served with her many a time in those 'first' years after the war, had seen her in combat more then once, had fought beside her more then once. Then there was the fact she was a browncoat, though and though. Daniel took a breath and again the shell seemed to melt, she was a true browncoat, he was carrying his Father's coat, and his Mother's Saber, had made no combat at least in the war, so at least for him, in that far reaching place in the back of his mind, today was a very sad day for him. Daniel took another breath, the shield of his father's browncoat shielding him from cracking, only a sort breath leaves him.
Marc has disconnected.
Before his eyes can water too much, Passe looks back into the audience and continues. "In her last days, she freelanced, offering her expert skills to many crews, including the Guan Yin. I met with Eyvindr Bjarnarsum not long after her... passing. For those who don't know him, he's a big fellow in body and heart, and we both agreed. The 'verse was a better place with her around, and she will be sorely missed."
Passe dabs his eye with his thumb, exhaling what might be taken as a chuckle. "She was a true friend, good at what she did, and caring for even the littlest of the crew. I have tried my best to be the friend to her that she was to me." He looks down at the casket again and says, "Tu me manque, mon amoure. Reste en paix."
Normally this sort of thing isn't her cup of tea, but she knew Matty. Still, the creep of her panties to Northerly climes was making it really hard to concentrate on the speechifyin'. Pixie was wearing a fancy pair, a gift from Passe, and the Fruity Oaty bandaid from last night's personal grooming accident was uncomfortably placed. She clutched the rosary and prayed to God for intervention.
Passe moves from the podium to take his seat again, and Priest Stravinsky stands up. "Thank you, Mister Passe," he says, and then looks out over the audience. "As per the Radcliffe's request, I turn the time over to you. If anyone would like to comment on Madison, please come up. The time is yours." He takes a seat and patiently awaits to see if anyone will volunteer their words.
Ask and ye shall receive. Pixie glances around briefly, then slides out of her seat. She smoothes her hands briefly over the bright orange dress, spelunks for some displaced underclothes, then pulls off her black cowboy hat, and holds it between her hands, rosary dangling over the brim. There's a little boob adjustment, but it's hidden behind the hat. This is polite company an' all. She steps up and turns to the mourners. Pixie doesn't go for the podium or anything. If it's one thing she can do, it's project. Loudly. "So. I only met Matty like a coupla times, but th' first or second was when we was all stranded on Whitehall with them stinky ass goats after 'Victus sploded, nearabout th' end of our rope." She mutters, "Weren't my fault."
And then she continues, much more loudly, "Anyway, Chaos Theory was mighty generous an' brought us all a heapa supplies lickety split when we was stranded with th' rottin' body parts no 'count reaver ship thing, an' it really helped us out a lot. Reckon there ain't no way we'd be able ta make it out here'n th' Black without helpin' each other someways. So I guess all them that served on that boat is owed a thanks fer helpin' us air up." She rambles on a bit, then slides a silver flask that was hidden on the inside top of her cowboy hat. She twists off the top, and raises it, turning to face the casket. "Here's to you, sugarlips. May you find your way'n Heaven, with plenty a good drink, food, company, an' manwhores. Or girl whores or whatever--..." She eyeshifts at the preacher. "Sorry for sayin' whore in church." Uh... "May you be in Heaven 1/2 hour before the Devil knows your dead. Even if you been on ice for a while. Uh... amen." The flask is tipped back, and the Pixinator takes a huge swig. She sniffs a bit, caps the flask, and shoves it back into her hat. "'f I had my druthers we'd be gettin' drunk together tonight. Looks like I gotta do it for two." And then she's off, headed back to her seat.
Passe chuckles warmly at Pix's comments, thinking to himself 'if only you knew.' He makes the sign of the cross after her prayer and offers a soft 'Amen', that is echoed wby a boistrous AMEN! from a local in the back who happens to have a similar looking flask and he takes a drink himself. The Priest, quite used to this behavior in a mining colony, merely smiles and then calls out to the man, "Vladamir, would you like to add anything?" The big man in the back shakes his head and says, "I already did: AMEN!" Stravinsky smiles broader and then looks back to the audience, allowing anyone else to approach to do so.
<OOC> Pix noms Vladamir. =D ;)
As soon as Pixie's seated Kitty takes to foot, standing immediately upon taking the kanky from her fiance. "Thank you love." Jander and Pix are both given a timid smile before she goes to the podium but instead of standing behind it she elects to stay standing in front of the tall item, allowing her to be seen. "I didn't know Matty very well," she starts out, her voice quivering. "We hung out some at the docks at Eavesdown and talked some..." Shaking her head, she looks at where Passe sits, the tears starting to flow again, each one mirroring her hurt. "I feel like I was robbed of the chance to make a friend and I just hope...hope we all can live like Matty seemed to - with a smile and a kind word to those she called friend and with a gun and a bullet for anyone who threatened her or those who were close to her in one way or another..." Her eyes lower as she adds, "I am sorry, Matty, I wish I could have....coul..." That's the end of Kitty's eulogy as she's hurrying back to the pew she's sharing with her fellow crewmates, just shy of breaking down utterly.
After each of the speakers presents, Jander drops his head and joins the chorus of "Amen" that doubtless rises from the faithful. Pix's shoulder is patted, some soft words are given--"That was beautiful," and "You gonna be okay?"--when she settles back down. And with Kitty's shuffling rush he lets go, rising to... well, not holding her, he leaves the girl some semblance of strength and dignity. But a hand goes to her wrist and another to her lower back, guiding his love back to her seat.
"Yeah, thanks. I'm always okay, darlin'." Pixie smiles to the security specialist, then reaches over to touch Kitty's hand as her shipmate returns from her memorializing words. "That was real nice, Kitten," she offers to the Bosun. Pixie sniffs again, but she doesn't cry.
Evalyn sort of raises her hand, as though this were some sort of classroom, and gets to her feet. With an almost embarrassed smile, the woman makes her way towards the front of the room, before slipping up behind the podium. She pauses for a moment or two, chews on her tongue somewhat, as she lets her eyes slowly rove across the crowd.
"I didn't much know Madison," she admits, in a slow, almost languid sort of accent. "We had a drink or two together. Think I helped 'er on a job, once." She pauses, once, and shakes her head. "What amazed-- no, what -continues- to amaze me is how many lives she touched. In my brief encounter with her, I got t' barely know onea the nicest women I'd wished I woulda known more." She sort of laughs, and shakes her head. "What amazes me, is how many lives she touched. Look around you. These folks-- I mean no disrespect, of course," she quickly interjects, nodding to Matty's family. "These folks you see 'round you aren't related to her. Y'all're people who've known her at one time or another; y'all're people who were, in some way, touched by her-- and for the better, I'd hope."
"The 'verse don't have alotta folk like that around, I'm sad t'say. There's not a whole heckuva lotta people who can unite a roomful of half-strangers like this. And I guess, well, the 'verse'll be worse off without her, yeah. I'm just hopin' that 'er legacy isn't of what she did, so much as what she taught, what her life teaches us. She wasn't no god, she wasn't noone who'd be considered special in any other way. And t'be honest, none of us really are. So I'm just hopin' that what we carry away from this, when th' service is over, isn't a sense of remorse or regret-- so much as hope, that we all can do at least a fraction of the good she's done."
She flashes her fingers about in an odd sort of manner, looking almost reverent in her action, before slipping from the podium to approach her seat once more.
Matty's parents nod appreciatively to Evalyn, and Priest Stravinsky looks around the room, giving another moment or two for people to volunteer their comments.
As Evalyn moves to return to her seat, Artesia rises, giving Evalyn a slow, respectful nod and a tiny smile as she passes her in the aisle. Slipping behind the podium, she takes a look at the casket, then a slow look over the audience. "So many others have said everything I could have said, and said them so much more eloquently. I won't repeat their sentiments, because that would cheapen those riches of heartfelt words. I'll just mention that I truly regret that I did not know Madison better. I met her only twice, and only briefly each time. But she became a fixture of Eavesdown Docks, and I saw her frequently even though we did not cross paths. Now..." she bows her head slowly. "I wish with all my heart that we had, for I missed a Shining Light, one that the 'Verse will be darker without. So few knew it... I remember more than once seeing her being harassed by Alliance soldiers because of the color of her coat, and regretting profoundly that I supported law and order if its face was so callous and vindictively mean-spirited. Had they possessed a quarter of the love and warmth Madison bore through all the time I knew her, they would have been ashamed of their behavior."
She stands a little straighter. "Would that all of us who bear arms and carry cards and badges could be a quarter of the person she was. If that were so, the universe would be a far, far better place. I dislike repeating myself, but..." She sniffs, blinking rapidly for a moment, "...the skies seem just a little darker... the winter just a little colder... without the light of love and courage of Madison Radcliffe. If I can miss it so intensely, briefly though I knew her, I can only imagine what it must have been like to be her dear friend. My heart goes out to you... all of you." Sniffing once more, she steps from behind the podium and makes her way back to her seat, more slowly than she had left it.
Lyn stands and moves out into the isle and begins moving towards the front. Her sable trailing the floor behind her. She is the picture of elegance and very out of place in this rural church. She too stops infront of the podium although she is not small and would be seen quite easily. She turns to face the casket and nods her head in acknowledgement then looks towards the others assembled here. Her accent is definately deep core and she is not at all appologetic about it. "I met Matty about 6 years ago. She was nice to me when I was filled with anger. She helped." It probly was not worth the time to walk up there but it was something she had to do. She returns to her seat with the same elegant aloofness that she approached the podium with.
After a couple more addresses from a few locals that knew Matty, Priest Stravinsky rises back up to the podium. "Thank you all for those kind words," he says, and her parents nod their heads. Anna, Matty's mother, had been crying throughout the entire precession. "The casket will remain for viewing until this afternoon, and then will be buried in our cemetery, next to the only other grave there, Mikhail Radcliff, Madison's younger brother." A sniffle from the mother, and then Priest says a quick prayer. Many signs of the cross are made in the audience, and then he steps to the parents to console then, signifying the end of the services.
Sitting back down, Jander keeps holding her hand, with an arm around her shoulder. Evalyn's words do soemthing odd to him: They bring a cold sweat to the man's brow, a chill down his spine. His eyes squeeze shut; the memories that flood him are far and away from those of the other mourners, but they do make him blend in better.
Passe rises from his seat drifts over to the casket, looking down at the body of Matty. He cracks a smile, and before he can get too emotional, he moves away, drifting towards the crowd. He didn't know the parents, only knew that Matty asked to be returned to her home. He wanders aimlessly among the pews, not really looking for anyone in particular, nodding to no one in general.
Pixie gives a squeeze to her shipmates, then rises, heading along after Passe. She jams her cowboy hat back into her head, and scampers along after the pilot.
Kitty hugs Pixie and Jander once she is with it again and then does the same to Passe in passing after running to catch up with him only to pass him and go out the door ahead of everyone else.
Sia moves past the casket, a handkerchief filling her left hand, to pay her last respects to the woman she hardly know, who touched so many lives. Sighing softly and brushing the handkerchief across her eyes, she moves away down the aisle and back toward the entrance, lost in her own thoughts.
Pixie passes by Passe, with a well placed, reassuring honk to the hindquarters. She grins and scampers on by, sliding a smoke out of her bra. Outside for nicotine, go!
Kitty heads through the exit labeled <Out> Baikal Mining Settlement.
Kitty has left.
Jander rises with Pixie, helping Kitty to her feet--even if only by way of moral support. Wordlessly, his long strides keep him by her side. The furtive glances side to side would make it forgivable for someone to confuse the man for a bodyguard more than the affainced.
Jander heads through the exit labeled <Out> Baikal Mining Settlement.
Jander has left.
Pix heads through the exit labeled <Out> Baikal Mining Settlement.
Pix has left.
Artesia heads through the exit labeled <Out> Baikal Mining Settlement.
Artesia has left.
