Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Teo Torriatte on 19-06-2012, 05:51:12</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Teo Torriatte</strong> on <strong>19-06-2012, 05:51:12</strong>
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				It was a dreary summer day in Paris, as a small group was gathered on the burial grounds of Pere Lachaise Cemetery. Even the sky seemed to darken along with the moods of those present, threatening to rain but the heavens held their tears for a moment even if some of those waiting below could not. The death of a hero was always hard to take, even for one who had lived for over four hundred years. Not everyone present knew that, of course, nor did everyone know that the three freak electrical storms that had occurred over the past several nights were not storms at all, but Quickenings.<br><br>To those few who did know, it might have seemed a little strange that his Watcher, Joe Dawson, was the one standing before them attempting to give his eulogy through his barely concealed tears. Even his peers had questioned his decision, but Joe had insisted and they had relented. Now he stood before the small crowd, taking a deep breath as he shifted a little and gripped the handle of the cane on which he was leaning. He recognized many of the immortals among them, wondering how good of an idea it was for so many to be here after recent events...<br><br>Not only MacLeod had fallen, but Amanda and Darius, as well. And their killer (who Joe assumed was all the same immortal) could not be all that far off. Not that the others were in any danger in the cemetery, but on their way out... well he was still shaken and he could only imagine what people who had known Duncan for so much longer than he had must be thinking.<br><br>The grave site itself was on a slightly raised hill, a particularly wealthy friend of MacLeod's had pushed his name to the head of the waiting list and had purchased this plot for him, which was surrounded by the ornate gravestones of several notables. The center of the hill was dominated by a large gravestone, on which was engraved the MacLeod clan crest. A grass covered cliff rose to the west, and the site was otherwise surrounded by a dense copse of trees, with several paths cleared between them where one could see other plots, rolling hills and more trees in the distance.<br><br>Dawson cleared his throat, his voice carrying over the silence that came over the group. "We are all gathered here today to mourn the passing of Duncan MacLeod... he left his mark on all of us, touching us all in slightly different ways," he scanned the crowd and saw a few Watchers as well, some using the opportunity to keep a close tab on their immortal, some more to keep tabs on Dawson, who was understandably shaken and considered by many to be... unpredictable... at this point.<br><br>"He was a friend to some, a hero to others and even a lover... he played the game of life to its fullest and died as he lived, standing tall and meeting his... challenge," he glanced nervously, knowing he was skirting the line but right now he didn't care, "meeting his last challenge with the courage he always possessed in abundance. So we lay him to rest, and may god have mercy on his soul." He was so close to tears, his hands trembling as he looked out over everyone, "May god have mercy on the soul of Duncan MacLeod, of the clan MacLeod."<br><br>He stepped aside before anyone could see the tears rolling down his face, this was not his public persona and he didn't want anyone to see him like that. But as he slipped to the side of the crowd, he noticed a lone figure standing on a hill overlooking the scene, a large, tall man wearing a long black coat and a black wide rimmed Stetson hat. He wasn't crying, in fact Joe was pretty sure he saw the man grinning through his neatly trimmed goatee before he realized he had been spotted and turned away to leave.<br><br>A short, olive skinned woman with long dark hair separated herself from the crowd while they mingled, a soft, comforting smile on her lips as she passed by several of the immortals. She was dressed in a simple black silk dress, loose fitting, which trailed behind her as she moved gracefully among those present. She didn't know any of them and they wouldn't know her, and further more it was hard to tell if she, or anyone else they might not know who was present, was immortal since the 'sense' was a little overwhelmed in the presence of so many of their kind. And before anyone could approach her, she slipped out and got into a black limo, the driver shut the door and they were off in moments.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caela</strong> on <strong>19-06-2012, 14:05:30</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae282/caela_ecub/Brunettes/vm3-1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Citlalmina, "Kit"<br><strong>Status:</strong> Immortal<br><strong>Location:</strong> Cemetary<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><br><hr><br><div class="floatright">(http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae282/caela_ecub/Misc%20Story%20Accessories/lbd2-1.jpg)</div><br>Kit had to blink her eyes repeatedly as Joe spoke. She and Duncan had been lovers for a very brief time some three hundred, or so, years earlier and discovered, rather quickly, that they were much better friends than Lovers. They were too different (and Duncan had still been so very young then to her) for intimacy of a romantic nature but alike enough that friendship flourished between them and Kit had admired and respected Duncan almost from the first. She had learned much from the Scottish warrior and taught him much in turn before they parted ways and, as Joe left the graveside, she had no shame in finally letting her tears fall.<br><br>She didn't see the man on the hill, but she did noticed the woman who left the crowd. She didn't know her and yet there was something about her. With so many immortals around her it was hard to tell if this woman was one, but Kit had long ago learned to trust her instincts and would have laid money that this woman had something to do with them...and not just with Duncan.<br><br>Moving forward, when it was time to pay their final respects before the casket was lowered, she reached out and laid one hand over Duncan"s folded ones. No fear of touching the dead in her as she murmured to him in her own, ancient, dialect, "Duncan MacLeod, fierce warrior, even fiercer friend, may whichever gods you hold in your heart watch over you in the afterlife and when your wheel turns once more, may your next life be more favored than this one my friend." Leaning down she pressed a kiss to his cold forehead, amazed at the artistry involved in making him look as if he hadn't had his head severed from his neck.<br><br>Stepping away so others might say their own last respects she let her eyes roam the crowd, catching the gazes of those she knew to be immortals and giving a small smile and a jerk of her head to the side. She would wait, but, for once, she wished company of her own kind and with the death of one of the best of them so fresh on their minds, she hoped the others would as well. Tonight would be a night to honor Duncan and put petty rivalries aside until morning.<br><br>Waiting on the sidelines she watched the crowd now, so many humans here to honor her friend made her smile. He had touched so many lives with that innate goodness that she had often teased him about. Among the crowd however, some few stood out like weeds in a rose garden. Watchers. She was sure they ones she could spot must be newer, usually they were far better at blending in, though she might not have noticed them if Joe and Duncan's friendship had given Duncan more information about them than any Immortal had ever had...information he had shared. Letting her mind wander away from the Watchers, she watched others paying their respects and wondered what their own last words for the dead warrior would be.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>19-06-2012, 17:55:43</strong>
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				<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.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AribethAmkiir</strong> on <strong>19-06-2012, 22:40:24</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1087.photobucket.com/albums/j480/Erion2451/imagesqtbnANd9GcQHRf-EfXiHNjouiY188W3Glvv6DwBR_9gAFz_EoPEDdNgPAezE.jpg)</div><strong>Name;</strong> Mariana Estevan<br><strong>Location:</strong> Cemetary<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Kit, and anyone else<br><hr>Maria, as those closest to her called her, watched the eulogy from the back of the assembly.&nbsp; She didn’t know the gray haired man who balanced himself upon his cane and spoke of Duncan MacCleod of the clan MacCleod.&nbsp; It was obvious the man knew Duncan well, and knew more than any mortal had a right to know.&nbsp; His words, while sincere and accurate, irritated her slightly.&nbsp; Another irritation was the number of Immortals who had actually felt compelled to attend.&nbsp; This many with this short of a notice only confirmed what she had already suspected.&nbsp; This was the second occasion this week that had forced her into a cemetery.&nbsp; Though, she had been much closer to Darius than MacCleod.&nbsp; It had been through Darius that she had met the Scotsman and during one of the various times she had taken sanctuary on holy ground.<br><br>Now, dressed in the appropriate black of mourning with her head firmly attached to her neck, she wondered if MacCleod had ever pieced together the full picture.&nbsp; In a roundabout way, he was responsible for her still being there.&nbsp; Chivalry had been a tool to use especially when Duncan MacCleod had been involved.<br><br>When her time came, she approached the open casket, avoided looking at the pieced together body, and gently placed a red rose inside.&nbsp; It was an affront to who they were that someone had sewn his head back on.&nbsp; She wondered momentarily if Duncan would've wanted this.&nbsp; He had been a warrior after all and warriors deserved to be honored for what they were.&nbsp; She said no words for the man, but a single comment echoed in her head.&nbsp; <br><br><em>He was the best of us.</em><br><br>A guarded look was given to the other Immortals, as she stepped away from the fallen Immortal.&nbsp; Some she recognized, others she only knew from the sense and that her eyes had been inexplicably drawn to them.&nbsp; The woman who had left in the limo had caught her attention as well.&nbsp; Not because she had been drawn to her, there had been too many in attendance by the time the woman had arrived for Maria to know for sure, but because of the suspicious actions.&nbsp; There were more subtle ways to leave a funeral than how that woman had chosen to.<br><br>Maria’s dark brown eyes locked upon those of a petite short woman of Central American decent, if Maria’s guess was right.&nbsp; She didn’t know the woman but didn’t miss the casual nod to the side.<br><br>It was best to see what she wanted.&nbsp; &nbsp;Julia, her mentor, had always claimed it was better to make a friend than an enemy.&nbsp; Words of wisdom Maria had generally followed over the last six hundred years.&nbsp; Now that the ceremony was over and they would soon be leaving holy ground, Maria couldn’t help but feel slightly exposed.&nbsp; She at least had the common sense to wear flats and knew full well that heels would’ve sunk into the earth and made fighting or running impossible.<br><br>Despite where they were, and the number of people around them, Mariana kept her distance from the woman.&nbsp; She would wait until the mortals left before speaking, and even then would remain out of sword range.&nbsp; If there was indeed a Gathering taking place, she wouldn’t trust the protection of holy ground.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pumpkin Seeds</strong> on <strong>22-06-2012, 19:19:19</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.haifawehbe.me/gallery/large/Haifa_Wehbe014.jpg)</div>Name: Emmanuelle Fabbri<br>Location: Cemetary to the streets of Paris<br>Tagged: Anyone<br><br>Tissue softly touched the eyes of the olive skinned woman.&nbsp; A slight brush of the material to keep the wetness from breaking the line of her makeup was all she required.&nbsp; The artist hired to do such work would not be pleased her work was tarnished so quickly in the day.&nbsp; Eyes of a crystal blue lifted from the gesture, peering out across those assembled.&nbsp; Dark lines of makeup made the eyes even more startling in contrast especially when taken against her darker complexion and black hair.&nbsp; The eyes had always been a way to catch another’s attention, to hold them and bring them without even a hint of effort.&nbsp; So she spent a good deal of effort in their decoration.<br><br>The woman’s hair was pinned up properly for this event.&nbsp; Dark curls constrained with a myriad of pins.&nbsp; Pearls and silver glittered from within the folds, adding a hint of sophistication to a rather simple ensemble.&nbsp; A darker shade of gray made up her height with black lace and veils wrapped along the wide brim, the bits of material fluttering before her face.&nbsp; Painted lips were folded in an image of grief, fine lines showing themselves beneath the makeup.&nbsp; There was pain there, pain from a loss that could not be replaced so easily as many things.&nbsp; Emmanuelle had learned of loss in her time but so rare to lose something so old and timeless as an immortal gentleman.<br><br>Duncan would not fight a woman.&nbsp; A serene sentiment that immediately endeared Emmanuelle to the man.&nbsp; She might fall in the battle for immortality, but his sword would never have been the one to do so.&nbsp; He would defend her, he would stand with her and he would laugh with her.&nbsp; They had teased each other through the centuries.&nbsp; Never had they shared a bed, but they had shared many adventures and hidden touches together.&nbsp; The hunt always so much better than the feast she would joke to him.&nbsp; Pity then that someone had taken the meal from her lips and robbed her of ever knowing.&nbsp; The thought made her eyes water once more.&nbsp; Around her body the dark linen shivered with a shudder of her shoulders.&nbsp; Business casual perhaps, but the black and gray were of the finest quality any could procure.&nbsp; The cut set so that her curves were a faint outline instead of standing to attention.&nbsp; Circumstance simply did not call for a show of the body here. <br><br>When the time came to pass the coffin, her willpower failed her.&nbsp; Many a husband she had laid to rest in this manner.&nbsp; Duncan was not one of them, nor would he ever have been.&nbsp; Too often she had taken the widow’s place to do so without cause.&nbsp; Let another woman take their place at his side.&nbsp; Instead she moved away from the crowd and away from the others of her kind.&nbsp; Already she knew that some would be waiting, seeking to pick off stragglers if they presented themselves easy targets.&nbsp; Around her the city still bustled as Paris was known to do.&nbsp; Around her the crowd would serve as protection until her sword could be in easy reach.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Azaria</strong> on <strong>02-07-2012, 12:08:29</strong>
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				<strong>Name:</strong> Lyla Turan <br><strong>Location:</strong> Cemetary<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Anyone <br><div class="floatright">(http://i2.listal.com/image/2548185/500full.jpg)</div><div align="center"><hr></div>She stood there among all the others, wearing a simple black dress, covering her now shortened blonde hair with a black hat, which covered her reddened and swollen eyes as she looked to the ground. The feeling of irritation didn't leave her as her guts twisted inside her, even though her face never showed what was going on under the surface. It was her way in dealing with the death of people she knew long enough in her life, the life that got extended somehow in a way she never knew but recently come to accept. <br><br>She was young, only a few decades over 500 and didn't see much of the history as her own grandpa and Duncan used to say. She had seen Duncan several times since she reunited with her father and he even helped her find him when the Nazi took him as a hostage. She had come to love Duncan but he always treated her more like a daughter and never seen the woman inside her and she had accepted that.<br><br>It was time to pass the coffin and she paused there long enough to touch his cold cheek. The one who inspired her and helped her figure the right path whenever she was confused was now gone. She wondered if he had kept her letters as she kept those he sent her, those messages were held dear now just as a legacy from a father.<br><br>She passed Darius and paused again at his coffin, she didn't meet him or Amanda but certainly heard of them. She did respect both as she respects every immortal. She wondered as she passed Amanda's coffin if her grandfather did know about these deaths but she doubted it... He isolated himself in one of her "agencies" and never left his room. She thought that she must send him what she was used to send him every time. Suddenly the phone buzzed in her purse and she had to answer it. It was the private phone she gave her grandpa to call her anytime and she never left it or removed it from her purse. <br><br><strong>"Yes, grandpa? Something wrong?"</strong>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Highlander: the Gathering IC thread 1</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CAO</strong> on <strong>07-07-2012, 20:55:19</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i997.photobucket.com/albums/af91/charlesott1982/alain_chabat.jpg)</div><br><br><strong>Name:</strong> Sean Moreau<br><strong>Location:</strong> A Highrise In Paris<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Lyla, Anyone<br><br>These days were different, Sean had felt it for a long time, he stood before a window, looking at his dim and transparent reflection. Even in this the scars across his chest and shoulders could be seen. An unruly anger rose up in him, it always had since the first time he'd seen himself in a mirror all those years ago. Sean was still a man imprisoned by his past, and he did not understand how he could have been so blind all those years ago, not that one could undo such decisions. <br><br>Sean turned back to look at the bed, a young woman with bronze tanned skin and black curly hair lay sprawled naked in it, not that anything had happened that night. No one would likely believe it, but Sean had not had sex in over twenty years, he was very aroused by her, and by her breasts as they heaved up and down while she slept soundly. For Sean, a part of him had died, it was hard to touch another woman after what had been done to him, he gave his heart and he got betrayed for it. <br><br>The clock changed, the alarm buzzed and Sean turned it off, the woman stirred and he spoke very quietly to her, <em>"Sleep Madam, you will need your rest, take today off."</em> A smile crossed the lips of the lady and she turned over, he cocked his head to the side and admired her ass, but he could not will himself to touch her yet. A knock at the door, and Sean answered it, the food he ordered every day was right on time, he put on a robe and tied it then went to answer the door. <br><br>There is a clicking sound, he hears it from the other side of the door, he closes his eyes, this is the day he has been waiting for. The reason he went into isolation, not to become weak, but to become strong. For the last thirty years he's engaged in his own personal exercise program, and read countless books on hand to hand combat, he will not need them though. He calls out from behind the door, <em>"A moment....I am not yet dressed..."</em> He speaks loud and with a tint of embarrassment, though he is anything but, as he turns to a dresser and opens a box. In the box is a gun that he has kept clean and ready every day since he left the prison. It is a Lugar, a semi automatic pistol used by the Nazies during the Second World War, he was saving the bullets, one last full clip of them for the person that came after him. The Scientist and the woman who betrayed him have long since died, but their secret was passed on to others, now he will show his strength. <br><br>Sean picks up the gun, loads it quickly with ammo, then answers the door, he does not ask questions, he does not hesitate, and he is quicker on his draw and trigger than the man behind the door is. Two shots is all it takes, and a young blond haired man is shot to death, the sounds awaken the young lady who is terrified of what just occurred. Sean orders her to leave, which she does, then he walks over to his night stand, his heart pounding because he realizes his days in isolation are now over, and if they made one attempt, they will make others. He picks up the cell phone, it is simple and easy to use, Lyla his granddaughter taught him the basics of how to use it, there is only one number in it and he calls it. <br><br>Dark red blood seeps into the carpet, spreading and snaking it's way out from under the man's body, slowly Sean walks toward the man and when his granddaughter answers the phone he speaks to her. <em>"We have a messy situation we need to take care of. Then I will talk to you...."</em> Sean pauses for a moment, then speaks again. "Its time to come out of hiding my dear." Sean hung up the phone, that was all that needed to be said, he started by going through the dead man's pockets, shuddering as he looked at the man. In terms of his haircut style, it was as if he'd stepped right out of the thirties, his clothing was properly done, as if he was in the military. Taking the man's identification, money, and smart phone, Sean stashed these items in the safe in his room so they could be gone through later. For now there was nothing to do but wait, he would have to ask Lyla what happened today, he knew it was different. 
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