Post by Boomerangele on Oct 13, 2009 15:57:57 GMT -8
There were noble causes and then there were masochistic suicidal pleas for attention. Scythian’s actions confounded and enraged Boomer. He had joined a clan – Tal’mahe’Ra – and had fought bravely alongside others. Some chided him that no clan would take him, but she had thought that he had proven them wrong. He listened; he learned; and then he went and proved all the naysayers right.
There was no plausible rationale for holywatering COVEN and Delphine. Yes, they had all sniped at each other in The Bite, but Scythian was notorious for inciting others. He enjoyed baiting people, especially Damari, but others as well. Yes, he had challenged COVEN to a duel but that was a pointless gesture that no one but Scythian took seriously. Blaming sleep deprivation and drugs was a cop out. This was simply Scythian’s way of focusing the limelight back on himself.
When she heard he had been left for dead at the Palazzo Midnight, she simply shrugged. There was no need to take his body anywhere. He was where he wanted to be. Just a little memorial by the side of the decaying structure similar to the ones on the highways erected for fallen victims was all he would be granted. No, Boomer was not about to do more for a friend who lacked common sense and had a dangerous desire to die.
Boomer located a Christian religious artifact store and perused the aisles for suitable memorial material. On the sales display racks she found some statues of minor saints. She’d never heard of them, but they looked pious and suitably ornate. She picked up a dozen tacky gilded votive candleholders and a heavy cardboard poster of the bleeding heart of Jesus. She wasn’t quite sure why anyone would want to own such a thing, but it made her hungry seeing the open heart dripping blood. A quick stop at Walmart provided the balance of the materials – cheap black votive candles that smelled vaguely of citrus and some seasonal silk-like flowers in orange and black.
She hadn’t been back to the Palazzo since the Midnight’s parties, but she knew the general state in which it had been left. The front door was half off the hinges on the former palace and graffiti still covered the outer walls. There was no reason to go inside and no reason to see Scythian’s earless corpse still likely reeking of garlic. Boomer set up her memorial by the front door between the dried vomit and fresh dog shit. Leaning the Jesus poster on the wall, she arranged the saint statues to make it look like they were dancing together in some obscene mating ritual. She haphazardly tossed the flowers around them and encircled it all with the votive candles in holders. After lighting the black candles she stood up and admired her macabre memorial. It was part Catholic and part-pagan Halloween. It would have to do.
The stench of rotting garbage began to overtake her and she walked away shaking her head. “Whatever, Scythian,” Boomer said as she left.
(OOC If anyone else wishes to make a memorial, be my guest.)
There was no plausible rationale for holywatering COVEN and Delphine. Yes, they had all sniped at each other in The Bite, but Scythian was notorious for inciting others. He enjoyed baiting people, especially Damari, but others as well. Yes, he had challenged COVEN to a duel but that was a pointless gesture that no one but Scythian took seriously. Blaming sleep deprivation and drugs was a cop out. This was simply Scythian’s way of focusing the limelight back on himself.
When she heard he had been left for dead at the Palazzo Midnight, she simply shrugged. There was no need to take his body anywhere. He was where he wanted to be. Just a little memorial by the side of the decaying structure similar to the ones on the highways erected for fallen victims was all he would be granted. No, Boomer was not about to do more for a friend who lacked common sense and had a dangerous desire to die.
Boomer located a Christian religious artifact store and perused the aisles for suitable memorial material. On the sales display racks she found some statues of minor saints. She’d never heard of them, but they looked pious and suitably ornate. She picked up a dozen tacky gilded votive candleholders and a heavy cardboard poster of the bleeding heart of Jesus. She wasn’t quite sure why anyone would want to own such a thing, but it made her hungry seeing the open heart dripping blood. A quick stop at Walmart provided the balance of the materials – cheap black votive candles that smelled vaguely of citrus and some seasonal silk-like flowers in orange and black.
She hadn’t been back to the Palazzo since the Midnight’s parties, but she knew the general state in which it had been left. The front door was half off the hinges on the former palace and graffiti still covered the outer walls. There was no reason to go inside and no reason to see Scythian’s earless corpse still likely reeking of garlic. Boomer set up her memorial by the front door between the dried vomit and fresh dog shit. Leaning the Jesus poster on the wall, she arranged the saint statues to make it look like they were dancing together in some obscene mating ritual. She haphazardly tossed the flowers around them and encircled it all with the votive candles in holders. After lighting the black candles she stood up and admired her macabre memorial. It was part Catholic and part-pagan Halloween. It would have to do.
The stench of rotting garbage began to overtake her and she walked away shaking her head. “Whatever, Scythian,” Boomer said as she left.
(OOC If anyone else wishes to make a memorial, be my guest.)
