Participants:
| Scene Title | Lost |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Eve seeks out her Messenger, but secrets remain hidden. It's a dark road, is heroism, and redemption. |
| Date | March 2, 2009 |
The vast graveyard stretches for kilometers, with dark damp soil making everything feel cold as you-know-what. Signs of mass graves, loose soil, and the faint smell of rotting flesh are present around the outer edges, ominously surrounding the original relaxed single-grave style in the center. Many of the old graves have been vandalized or exhumed, leaving many empty six foot deep holes scattered around. Some open holes are still curiously empty, while others have been reorganized into piles of bodies, forgotten and unburied, and still more are just as likely to house the living.
The marble sculptures and tombstones of long ago have been reduced to nondescript lumps of rock, but this doesn't stop people from placing new markers for the deceased — yet it seems futile since none of it will stay. The inhabitants will take whatever stone and scrap metal are left here, using them to build makeshift shelters, or simply reorganizing them to whatever chaotic patterns they worship.
The crescent moonlight makes the cemetery quite an eerie sight, the place that Eve saw him. The Messenger. Her dark red dress rustles in the wind and some of the clouds pass over the moon. Her eyes scan the cemetery, she hasn't been on Staten Island long at all, but it is clear to her now why people have stayed away.. at least the 'good' people. Eve's hood hides her face from view.
For all of Gillian's dark eye makeup, hair dye, and choices in dress, Tavisha is pretty sure she would mock him for being here. But here he is anyway, away from where exposed bodies rest careless in a heap somewhere towards where the overgrown gardens melt into the Greenbelt, surrounded by the splintered, fragmented remains of old gravestones, monuments and statues. He's seated on a bench, one leg bent and folded upon the cold concrete, and next to him, a platform of stone where a statue used to rest, but the rudimentary cuts into the concrete, the traces of marble, indicate that whatever it was, it was long since stolen.
Perhaps it was Eve's angel statue, from her dream. Perhaps it never existed.
Despite superb hearing, Tavisha doesn't notice Eve's approach into the overgrown cemetery just yet, lost in thought— or new memories, as vibrant as an action replay— but it's about when she sees him that he hears her. His dark head snaps to the side, bird-like in alertness and body tensing, before forcing himself to relax. He can't be the only one who comes here, after all, and he breaks eye contact from her, as if expecting her to move on.
Ah there he is. Eve studies Tavisha and she tilts her head as she begins to draw near. "Gabriel." No question, a statement, this is the man.. Sylar.. Gabriel and now this new person..
"We always meet in all these morbid places, says something about us.. doesn't it?" she says in her soft voice and her gaze is centered on the man. Her dark hair moves in the wind.
And she speaks, to him, Tavisha's eyes lifting from where he'd been not-really-studying the remains of a nearby headstone, now fixing her with the bewildered look of a stranger approached. Then, tension in his features, incomprehension, and a little bit of wonder. A huff of breath, warm air hitting the cold atmosphere in a wispy trail of steam that the wind snatches away. "What did you call me?"
"Gabriel.. Sylar.. whichever. All the same." Eve muses aloud and walks closer, "But you forgot me.. your 'friend'." Eve states and looks at Tavi with a grin. "Last time I saw you.. you weren't yourself. More like an old man to be exact." She adds.
Eve's smile isn't returned, Tavisha's mouth pulled into a more serious frown as he narrows his eyes up at her, both feet planting on the ground as he stands up. Not so unfamiliar an expression for the man Eve was once familiar with, but it's interrupted after a moment, a quirk of an uncertain smile, making him appear softer, in a way. "I'm… sorry, I don't know what you're— talking about, exactly. But I can explain, just— we were friends?" How a serial killer came to be so sociable is beyond Tavisha, but then, he doesn't know the half of it.
"Forgotten it all." The seeress says and runs a hand through her hair as she comes even closer to Tavisha. "We were something like friends.. yes at one point. Until you attacked my friend, Abby." Eve admits and begins to circle Tavisha. "What do you call yourself?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
At the word attacked, dark-clad broad shoulders loosen a little, slump, but tension ripples back beneath his skin when she starts her circling. Fear? Not quite. Just caution. Tension. If he tried to kill someone she cared about, well— Tavisha takes half a step before she can come to stand behind him, casting her a glance. "Tavisha," he says. Tuh-Vi-Shuh, the exotic bent on its pronunciation explaining away the strangeness, although no doubt it's strange anyway. "It was a name given to me by a friend. What do you call yourself?"
"Eve." Is said simply in reply. She nods her head and looks at Tavisha. "You really don't remember?" she leans her hand in to place on his cheek. "Poor boy, you don't even know about yourself, do you?" she asks and tilts her head. "I got your message, I warned the girl about the danger."
Eve's hand is cold - which isn't her fault, it's a cold night, New York still climbing out of the brutal winter it's left behind - and he shies away from it after a second, gaze darting nervously down and then back up to her. "I didn't send you a message," Tavisha says, apology in his voice. "You're right, I don't remember— a lot of things, actually. Including you." May as well get this obligation out of the way, and he adds, "I'm sorry— about what I did to your friend."
"Oh but you did send me a message. You just don't know it, people in the dreams rarely know that they give me messages." Eve says and looks at the sky. "Don't be sorry, she ended up fine." Eve looks around, "Are you trying to get those memories back? I bet they are important."
The dreams. Tavisha doesn't ask, perhaps out of knowing how awkward it can be, for people to pry. Mostly because he's never certain as to the answers of such questions. But the one question she does ask, is one he can respond with, stepping back away from her to sit down upon the bench - allowing for a couple of feet of room she be so inclined to do the same. "Yes, I am," he says. "It's been more than a month now. Starting to think…" Whatever he was starting to think, he never says, mouth thinning before squinting up at her. "Why were we friends? You must have known— about the kind of person I was."
"We weren't really friends Gabriel." Eve says and runs a hand through her hair. "We traded information, you never killed me because.. I guess you didn't want to wind up like me. A loonie." It's the first time Eve has called herself crazy.
Her dress rustles as she sits next to Tavisha and looks to him. "You weren't that mean to me.. we danced before. Granted you forced me too, but you led the dance and I led the song." Eve looks up to the sky as she reminisces.
A loonie. That puts a different slant on things, Tavisha's eyebrows lowering a little with concern as he regards her profile, shivering both from the cold and her words. Forced her to dance. He shifts so he's facing forward as well, although his eyes don't seek out the sky. "Do you know much about the people I killed?" he asks, the words coming out stilted. This is likely one of the stranger meetings he's had, but also the first wherein he felt comfortable asking such a thing. Every other time has ended in apology or avoidance of the topic.
"From what I know.. most were innocent. I asked you to spare someone in my name once.. I don't think you did." She comments and continues to look at the sky. "I don't know if you will want to remember all of this.. don't you think it would be better not knowing yourself when you were a monster?" Eve doesn't mean that in an disrespectful way.
A huff of laughter, perhaps inappropriate, but he can't help it, head tipping back a little as that low, rumbling sound breaks through, almost smiling. "I thought so too," Tavisha says. "But now I think that if those lives were ever going to mean anything, I should have the courtesy to remember them. To learn from them."
"Wise words my friend." Eve says and nods her head, her midnight strands of hair fall into her face as she looks down. "Remember them, so that you will never go down that route again." It is said softly and she looks up to Tavisha with an intent stare, as if she were staring directly at his soul.
That soul searching gaze gets barely a glance, Tavisha keeps his trained away from the darkly dressed woman. "You sure I'm the one who's meant to be giving you a message?" he asks, eyebrows raising a little. "Or the other way around?"
"Perhaps we are meant to give each other a message." Eve muses and her eerie gaze continues to study Tavisha. She traces her hand on the armrest next to her and her other hand goes to pats her old 'friend' of sorts
"Though the messages may have been lost in the shadows."
 March 2nd: Jasmine, Rims, Cardinal And A Brit |
 March 3rd: On Proper Handling Of Flammable Substances |