Welcome to Gaia! ::

A nod was her only response as her dark curls bounced with her head motion. She leaned against Mr. Hollow, taller, but still not tall enought to even reach his shoulder. She was probably fifteen or sixteen, give or take a few years. A tear was forced, though she knew not of this man who had passed. The tear was probably so she wouldn't appear disrespectful to a man who was clearly well respected throughout his entire life.

Fauntine has just put the finishing touches on the hybrid lilies she has bred for this dark day. The pastal hues however, belied the somber mood of the event. She wanted them to smell like pumpkins and spice, the aroma of a late autumns afternoon. When the sun was high in the west sky, and the forest sang with colors of gold. She felt the fragrance was fitting somehow, since she had only known this man in the autumn years of his life.

She sat a alone, wanting solitude instead of companionship. Dressed conservatively for once; in a snug gown of black and gray, the tone making her eyes appear as if storms were brewing deep within.

Death always made her anxious and sad, her own life still within stages of early spring. Her kind aged slowly, though not as longed lived as the fay, mages still retained a ample amount of longevity. Powerful magi like her father, always pushed the envelope on what could prolong life and magic.
She grimaces, trying not to think of her father. It would only make this day worse. She tarries on in silence. Staring blankly ahead. Emotionally, she is frayed as an old scarf, worn down and tangled by events long since past--but always felt keenly. Choices that were wrong, yet right at the same time. She closes her eyes as a silver tear streaks down her cheek. So much to regret for mortals, yet had so little time to do it in.

She had all the time in the world.

Meanwhile, on the roof of a building across the street, a pale woman looks through the stained glass, filtering out the colors to see Fauntine. The look on her face is an odd mixture of predator and prey.

I could snuff her out right now, she thinks to herself.

She extends her arm gracefully towards the window, a swarm of tentacles bursting out of it, wrapping and hardening into armor, transforming the arm into some sort of biological equivalent to a particle beam weapon. A smaller tentacle slides out of her right temple to circle in front of her eye, becoming a targeting monacle as the barrel of her arm glows softly.

Just one zzzip!, and she's history.

And the darkness in her head answers. Patience. Now that we know why our employers targeted her, our earning potential for this extended job has increased tenfold. We just need to wait.

(( Mind if I pay my respects? Everyone else is doing it, it's becoming a trend. Even in death, Nick is still one popular guy. ;D ))

Natsuki, now middle aged, opened the large heavy church doors a crack and slipped inside. She slinked towards the casket, trying to stay out of sight. The crying mourners that surrounded her was only proof that the man, Nick, was very well liked. She was standing before the casket before she realized it. She knew not the man well but he seemed like a sincere being. She pulled a rose from her bag and laid it delicately besides all the other flowers. She then left the church the way she came.

Michael Brendt, now in his mid-twenties entered the church. His hair was no longer mussed, nor his clothes borrowed or ragged. His eyes had lost the fear they had had when he first come to Crosshaven, they now had that look that caused others to look at him and think back on their own lives. Naturae was still open, in fact after being opened only four months he added on another building to accomadate more people and now he was managing quite a few restaurants all around the world. However, he never left Crosshaven, he felt tied to his roots here. He was now dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt and black tie. He still has similarities like the young 16 year old kid that came to the town, but, as he reached the casket, his face seemed to change right back to what it used to be. He looked scared, confused, and filled with anger and sadness. Nick was one of the first people he had met in Crosshaven, those many years ago at the first mixer. Mike wasn't sure what to do now that he was at the casket, all he could do was cry. He brought a dozen roses in red and white, each with their tips dipped in honey, all twelve had fallen to the floor. Mike wasn't sure how to go on from here. One of his roots had just been removed.

-Mike

The military man marches the small squad of men up to the coffin. He is wearing a black beret with general's ranks on it. He is seen doing somthing to the uniform of the man in the box, before turning around and announcing to the church that upon review of the life of Nicholas Poole, both durring and after his service to his country, the army has promoted him to the rank of Sergeant Major. The squad of men march out of the church twords the burial sight. The man that had been leading them walks over to nathanael with a triangular framed flag.
"Normally this would go to the closest living relative, but in his will he requested that it be presented to you."
After he presents the flag to Nathanael he leaves the church for the burial sight as well.