3/19/2005

12:58 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (61% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly cloudy. The temperature is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.55 and falling, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 31 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 12:36 Pacific Time on Sat Mar 19 2005.

Burial Mounds(#3207RJ$)
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
There are +views here.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
Forest

[look Stacey]
Stacey has light brown curls that have been pulled back into a high pony-tail by a purple ribbon, although a couple of the smaller strands have come loose and frame her oval-shaped face. The preteen's features are soft and childlike, with a small nose, slightly prominent cheekbones, and large hazel eyes. A fading tan and a few freckles color her otherwise fair complexion. This slender girl is wearing blue jean overalls with a long-sleeved shirt that is decorated with purple flowers, along with white tennis shoes. A leather thong necklace with a pendant of a dove carved of smooth white shell with bits of mother-of-pearl on either side is tied around her neck.

Kenneth hasn't exactly cleaned himself up enough to be presentable. But then, it doesn't look like he slept last night either. As Cutter stopped by the End to collect the bodies, the halfmoon made little movement to assist. Yet, he was given a ride close by. The journey was made in silence, and stopping at the bawn's grave markers, the bodies were laid down in their respective Hefty bags. Cutter has left, but the Shaodw Lord halfmoon remains. His back is turned to the forest, and his eyes stare blankly at the black trashbags.

A soft crunching sound, the sound of twigs snapping under a light weight, can be heard from the edge of the clearing as Stacey stops beside one of the dark pines. Her gaze rests on the bags lying before Kenneth, and the young girl pales. Although she isn't completely sure who they contain, she is afraid to find out. She opens her mouth, perhaps to speak or ask a question, but no sound comes out. Her wide-eyed gaze lifts to Kenneth, and she reaches out to rest a hand against the tree, as though needing its support.

Kenneth himself, bears massive claw gouges that run from his neck up to his face that aren't patched. Caked with dried blood, though, they do not ooze blood as they did last night. His clothing is ripped as it were, stained in blood as well. In short, the halfmoon is a veritable mess in appearance. He doesn't seem to care, nor does he seem to notice the crunching sound of the Child coming up behind him.

Stacey grows even paler as she notices Kenneth's wounds. She closes her eyes as she tries not to assume. Dillen? Lucas? She shakes her head, trying to dispel such images, as well as starting to feel guilty for encroaching on this scene. "Ken..."

Kenneth doesn't respond immediately. Like a gargoyle, the halfmoon simply sits upon the ground like a statue, ripped clothing fluttering slightly in the breeze. Only the sound of his soft, slightly ragged breathing penetrates the stillness afterwards.

Stacey dares to step forward a bit, as she wasn't immediately yelled at to leave. She crouches down several spaces from Kenneth, giving the boy lots of space, and finally sits back on the ground. She doesn't ask any questions, just lets him know that she's there.

"Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Death, is your sting?" As Stacey comes closer, the low, nearly inaudible words utter from the halfmoon's lips as he breathes in and out. His hair hangs limply, strands caked over, others slick with a wetness that hasn't left. He doesn't seem yet to notice the girl's presence still.

Stacey brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them as she sits nearby. If the Lord were to turn and look at her, he would see a tear or two trickling down her cheeks. She may not know who the bags contain, but the Child still can feel another's pain. She glances back over at Kenneth at his questions, but doesn't answer. She has no answer to give now.

Kenneth lapses into silence again, his questions floating away with the breeze. Breathing turning a touch more ragged than before, the halfmoon casts his gaze down to the shredded clothing on his arms. When he does look back up again, it is towards the ahroun that he looks. His black eyes ringed in a low swelling at the lids, Kenneth stares at her evenly. Blankly.

Stacey tilts her head to wipe her face on one of her sleeves, and it's only when she looks up that she notices Kenneth staring at her. She meets his gaze for a moment before lowering it to the ground before her. She opens her mouth again, to explain what she's doing there, ask what happened, but then just closes it again silently. For once the little Ahroun has no idea what to say.

It's like he's not exactly staring at her, but not staring through either. "You got somethin' to say, then say it." Finally, some form of a conversation passes from him to her.

Stacey looks back up at him as he finally speaks, glad to finally have the silence broken, but also dreading having to speak. She looks away from him down to the bags. She swallows and then clears her throat. "What... what happened?" she finally manages to say.

Kenneth looks back to the bags as she asks, leaving the question unanswered as first. "What happened..." he echoes then, voice a low murmur. His eyes settle on one bag. "Jarred," then his gaze moves to the other, "and Lucas." He pauses long enough to let the names fade off. "We turned on him. The way he turned on us." Sucking in a breath sharply, the halfmoon holds in his next words. Bitterness, no doubt.

Stacey grows very still as Kenneth speaks, affirming part of what she had dreaded. She lets out a ragged sigh, and turns to look off at the surrounding woods. The Child's expression is twisted in grief as she struggles not to cry. She gives a sharp nod to show she understands.

Kenneth turns his eyes from the makeshift bodybags laying not far from his feet. The halfmoon, covered still in dried blood and ripped clothing, sporting deep claw wounds that run from his neck up to the lower part of his face, simply grits his teeth as he can feel the grief coming from the young girl. He doesn't say anything more just yet, but runs a hastily washed hand through the his messed up hair.

Stacey sits for a moment in her tense, ball-like state, then abruptly stands and takes a few steps away, her back now to the Shadow Lord as she tries to keep him from seeing just how stricken she is by this news. She takes in another shuddery breath, tears falling freely now that Kenneth can't see.

Dillen comes up upon the two. He walks up, hands pushed into his pockets and stops. "Hello..." He says quietly. He looks between the two and bites at his lip some.

Kenneth takes that same hand and covers his mouth with it, feeling the edges of the dried blood on his wounds. At first, he doesn't say anything to Dillen in response. Then, the hand falls away. "You can cry if you want, Stace."

Stacey seems to have needed the permission. After Kenneth's words, she falls back down to her knees. She lifts her hands to cover her face as she cries, her small frame shaking with her silent sobs.

Dillen doesn't say a word as Stacey falls to her knees. He steps forward and rests a hand on the smaller of the two. A silent prayer is offered.

Kenneth's throat must seize up once his words are said. Too tired from a sleepless night to be angry, too grief-stricken to care, the halfmoon closes his eyes if but to shut out the vision of the world in front of him. It only brings his imagination up, though, and so his eyes slit open again. The ragged breathing from the Shadow Lord smoothes out, barely finding a moment's calm.

Stacey seems to have forgotten the others as she cries. She continues to silently sob, kneeling on the ground, until gradually her sobs lessen, giving way instead to deep, ragged breaths. She wipes her face on her sleeves as she starts to calm, still facing away from the others.

Dillen takes a deep breath and sits down on the rock. He becomes very silent.

Kenneth looks up afterwards, up towards Dillen, then back to Stacey. Standing slowly, the halfmoon grunts as he gets up to his feet. Finding some last reserve in him to be angry, he manages somehow to loom over the bags and glare at them. "You sonuvabitch!" he screams at the bags. "You fuckin' piece of shit! How dare you?! How dare you just ditch like this?" His vision focuses onto the black, shiny plastic of one of the bags. Then, wildly, he switches to the other and draws a foot back, kicking the larger of the two hard. "Fuckin' Piece of Shit Elder!"

Stacey takes another deep breath and then turns to face the others. She watches as Kenneth screams and kicks the bag, the one that must be Jarred, her expression passive. She stands to her feet then and walks over to stand next to him, looking down at the bag, then up to Kenneth. "Hey..." she says softly, not even sure what she means by saying that herself.

Kenneth ignores the soft words, not hearing them in the new rage he enters. "Fuckin' answer me! Why'd you do it?! Why?" Dropping down to a knee, his hands seize one of the plastic bag violently, and clench down. Slowly drawing his hands apart, it seems like he is about to tear the bag open to get at what's inside.

Stacey hesitates a moment, then reaches out and sets a hand on Kenneth's shoulder. "Hey, he ain't gonna answer," she says a bit louder, then retrieves her hand, as though thinking it might get bitten off if she leaves it there much longer. She takes in a breath and then lets it out sharply, cursing.

Though the hands have already pierced the bag, Kenneth opens up a hole just barely big enough to see a piece of flesh exposed within the darkness. He stops as the hand of the Child touches him. There aren't any tears, but just hot rage. "Don't touch me," he growls out.

Stacey takes a step back, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I'm sorry," she says softly, then just watches.

Kenneth unlocks his hands from the plastic bag, breathing hard to hold himself in control. The halfmoon falls down to his other knee, hands splaying down as he bows his head. "Fucking... sonuva..." The tibe ebbs away.

Stacey just stands rather helplessly nearby, hands still in her pockets. Her expression is passive, but the narrowing of her eyes reveals just how close she is to bursting to tears again or worse.

Kenneth trails away in his cursing. Slipping back onto his knees, and then gets back up. Tearing off a section of his torn shirt, he uses it instead to wipe at his face before tossing the used rage down. As he does, the light gleams off the gold band on his finger. It garners his attention first, and he lifts his hand up to examine it. "Jarred gave us these rings," he utters quietly. "To prove we were cliaths."

Stacey shifts her gaze to the ring as Kenneth points it out, nodding her head. She sniffs then and looks off towards where Dillen had sat before looking back to the Lord.

Kenneth brings his other hand up after, and jerks at the ring around his finger so violently one might imagine any more force would have dislocated the appendage. Clutching the ring hard in his hand, hard enough that the emerald set leaves its imprint on his palm, the halfmoon stares down at the torn bag. "Another fuckin' lie! That's all it is." The ring is thrown down, hitting the bit of cloth with his shirt. It's only enough that he doesn't spit on it too, but instead turns and paces away a few feet.

Stacey winces as he throws down the ring, staring down at it as Kenneth walks away. She stands there looking down at the bodies for a moment before looking up at the Lord, watching him.

Kenneth clenches his hands to fists, now distinctly feeling the lack of the ring more in his spirit and mind than physically. "You were right Lucas," he talks aloud, bitterly. "Where's the point?"

Stacey frowns and turns to face him. "Nah, it's there. Just hard to see, clouded," she says encouragingly, although her young voiced is shaky.

"Bullshit!" Kenneth counters, like the girl's words aren't coming from her but from the air around him. His eyes search the skies, seeking indiscriminately. "Show it to me. Show me what the FUCK You are getting at!"

Stacey winces at his words, but then draws herself up, as though gathering courage. "That you can't give up, Kenneth!" she fairly shouts back. "Ya can't let it make you bitter. It's a fucking terrible thing that's happened, yes, and probably nothing will change that. Nothing'll take away the loss we feel, but ya still gotta keep fighting, keep hoping that someday will be better."

Kenneth spins around, away from the sky. His eyes lock onto the ahroun, and she gets a murderous glare. "Don't even start with me, Stacey. Don't start that hope bullshit."

Stacey withers under that glare before her own rage begins to surface. Tears start streaming down her face as she tries to think of some response. She shakes her head fiercely. "I just... just... Fuck it all, fuck this! I hate it! Maybe he was fucking right," she shouts, and then turns sharply and walks back off into the woods.

Kenneth twists in his expression as a sick feeling taking over his gut. "So you run away," he whispers, watching the girl leave. "But even that is pointless."

Stacey whirls around as she hears that, glaring at the Shadow Lord. "Fuck you, Kenneth. You know what? The only thing that makes it pointless is you." She then clamps her mouth shut, regaining enough of herself to not want to say anything else in her grief that she'd regret, and turns and leaves.