<div align="center">Acacius (Chase)</div><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://douglasboothfan.com/gallery/albums/userpics/10001/ThomasLohr2011_28229.jpg)</div>The modern funeral, particularly as it was applied to those such as they, never sat well with Chase. It wasn't that the practice was alien to him, or that he'd never attended one before. The former could, perhaps, be true in certain respects, but to think the latter accurate was laughable. One simply could not exist on this planet for as long as they do without an obligation to visit these sorts of ceremonies for the lives with which one came into contact prior to their brevity at last catching up with them. There were situations in which it was unavoidable.<br/><br/>The death of one of their own was not such a situation. If anything it was the opposite. A friend, particularly a close one, yes, of course, but to stand on the newly prepared grave of a man or woman who had, for hundreds of years, been considered a rival at best, the enemy at worst, as if one belongs on that ground? It seemed to him the height of impropriety. Let those close to the fallen grieve in peace. His being in attendance would only give reason for greater stress than they were already under, wondering why he was there, what did he want or expect of them?<br/><br/>No, it would be better to keep his distance for this event, to wait for the others to come out rather than go in to meet them there. It wasn't as though he was too short on time to wait around a while.<br/><br/>"Cinquante ne m'oubliez pas. Bleu."<br/><br/>A clerk in the Rebillon nodded and made note of the order for the new funeral arrangements. Attending would be improper, perhaps, but he could add something to it still. Blue seemed most appropriate for symbolism. Besides, their graves were no doubt soon to be covered with roses. Variety would be worthwhile, then. There was the matter of payment to settle, timing, placement and so on. These things took only a few minutes, then he was out and on the street again, a cup of coffee in hand as though in preparation for the weather to turn worse. A black limousine was just pulling away from the cemetery gates when he arrived at the corner of Roquette and Menilmontant. He set his back to the white wall of Maubrey and sipped at his coffee, watched the stone gateway across the street, and he waited.