bryan_icon.gif grace_icon.gif trask2_icon.gif

Scene Title Remembrances
Synopsis Three people cross paths while reflecting on those loved and lost.
Date September 3, 2008

Calvary Cemetery, Queens

There are a vast number of graves in Calvary Cemetery — more people than Grace would ever care to count, much less consider the manners of their deaths. And then there is the plot given over to those never found — the dead whose were vaporized in a nuclear blast. No question there. It is at this memorial which the young woman now stands, in the reddening rays of a setting sun. Morbidly appropriate lighting — perhaps more so than the dead of night usually ascribed to gloomy graveyards. One corner of Grace's mouth twitches at the thought, before she steps away from the memorial, reflexively twitching her light jacket into its proper place.

Trask is out himself, it's his brothers birthday so he has decided to come visit the grave. He is not in uniform, dressed casually he hasn't brought any flowers either. Trask kneels a few rows off from where the memorial sits, speaking quietly to noone visible. The marker infront of him reads Sergei Traskovich.

Cemetaries. Death hanging in the air. But it isn't as though that sensation is odd in the city, especially depending on which street one decides to wander down. Bryan Buckley is out wandering for no reason in particular, his hands in the pockets of his sportcoat. He glances at the gravestones as he passes them, but only with the vague interest of one who, in an earlier time, might take a rubbing off a particularly captivating one.

Blue eyes pause on Trask, kneeling at a nearby headstone. There's something vaguely familiar about him, but Grace is distracted by Bryan's approach. She offers each of the men a polite nod. "Good evening," she greets, in the raven's voice that is at such odds with her appearance.

Trask looks up hearing a voice that isn't his dead brothers. He rises and nods toward Grace, canting his head a little as he tries to place where he might have seen her before. He walks toward where she is, at the Memorial. He has people accounted for by that marker, but then again so does everyone.

The greeting that Bryan returns is a silent one, but he does turn to look at Trask as well as Grace. It would seem, apart from these two mourners, that the cemetery is empty. But there are so many recent dead who aren't here…and with so much else to do, to distract, who would take the time to mourn specifically?

Met with silence by both of the strangers, Grace returns it in kind. Whether they're here to mourn someone or just to acknowledge the memorial, it seems they'd prefer to do so in solitude. She turns back to the memorial for a moment, blue gaze scanning over the statue.

Trask graces Grace with a weak smile, "Evening" he says as he draws even with her. His eyes scan over the monutment, studying it for a few seconds. Taking in everything around him.

As far as Bryan is concerned, however, Grace opened the door for conversation. "Who?" he asks, not thinking there might be a need for him to elaborate on the question. And it's not only directed at the woman, but also Trask. Some mourn alone, others in groups.

Grace nods in acknowledgment to Trask, before turning her attention to Bryan. "No one here, even by extension," she replies, harsh voice muted. A hint of a dry smile curves her lips. "But it seemed… fitting," the young woman concludes, looking over her shoulder at the statue. "That's supposed to stand in for so many, what's one more?"

Trask nods, and answers Bryan himself, "My Mom was downtown at work, when…" he shrugs and grows a little quiet for a few moments, before turning and giving Grace another long look when she talks. "Have we met Miss?"

Byran nods to Grace and Trask in turn once more, but when the other two start to talk, he takes a step back, letting himself melt into the shadows created by the dying light of the setting sun.

In the quiet Trask leaves, Grace looks to Bryan. "And yourself?" she asks in return. Only to be addressed by Trask again, at which she gives him a thoughtful look. She had thought he was familiar… "Hm. Oh, yes. Just the other day, though I wouldn't call it a meeting as such," the woman points out, smiling faintly. "At the park."

Trask nods, "Ah yes…the Coed" he shakes his head, "I do apologize about that scene." he then turns to look at Brian to see how he answers.

But while the other two have talked, however brief their exchange, the Company Man has wandered away. Back from whence he came, wherever that may be.

"I don't think it's you that needs to apologize," Grace comments dryly. She looks back as Bryan fails to reply, blinking as she realizes he's disappeared. Hm. "Guess he didn't want to talk about it. My mother — and grandmother, although I don't remember her so well anymore." The young woman shrugs one shoulder. "They both died a while ago."

Trask offers a hand, "Norton, pleased to meet you." he looks for a moment at the Memorial, "I think everyone has lost someone."

"Grace," is the reply given with the handshake. "Everyone has," she agrees. "What's unfortunate are the people who let it stop them."

Trask nods, "You can't stop living just because you lost someone."

"Yet so many do," Grace observes, a bit too much personal sentiment beneath the gravelly surface of her words. After a brief silence, she shakes her head, taking a step back from the monument. "I'll leave you to your memories," the young woman offers.

Trask nods slowly, and sighs, "We have to make sure that thier memories aren't tainted by what is done in thier names" he says it quietly, maybe speaking to himself. The he shakes out of it and looks back at you, "Good to meet you, Grace maybe I'll see you around sometime?"

"At this rate? Quite probably," is the young woman's dry response. One last look is given to the statue, before Grace shakes her own head and starts back down the path to the cemetery's entrance.

September 3rd: Pick Your Poison
September 3rd: All of this... Misunderstanding
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License