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Post by rose on Feb 12, 2008 18:47:58 GMT -5
((Anyone who wishes to is welcome to join; I just wanted to make a Zurie post before she sent me another letter. >_>; ))
Here lies Cole Tennant
Beloved son and brother
Taken from us at the age of 18
But forever loved, cherished and missed
May he rest in peace
The golden words perpetually etched within the white marble were slowly succumbing to nature's will, the stone already partially desecrated by a combination of weather and time. Despite Zurie's consistent efforts to keep Cole's grave in pristine condition, the Dream girl knew that eventually, it would become aged like many of the other burial sites positioned in the cemetary- some years further ahead, the next generation would regard such a dedication to her beloved as 'sad' that a male had died so young, with no indication of the circumstances of his death, nor the grief which followed.
She sat opposite the stone, staring blankly at the ground which had swallowed up and now contained his body, knowing that the only thing about her person that would be able to contact him was the red rose in her hand- which would eventually wilt and decompose into the earth beneath. Zurie clutched at the flower, ignoring the thorns pricking her skin, which seemed to glow within the gloom of the Nightmare territory, trying to transfer part of herself with it, so that they could be together in this very abstract form.
"Hello," she whispered breathlessly, her blue eyes now gazing at the name emblazoned before her. "I'm sorry it's been a while since I last came. I've been so busy lately... With everything. I hope you'll forgive me." A weak smile. "Mother and father are doing okay, they drive me nuts sometimes... Mother is still always on at me about my choice in skirts though, and Father wants me to get a proper job. We all miss you... But I miss you the most. I sometimes sit in my room and wish that you could be there holding me like you used to." Zurie's knees were now drawn up to her chest, the folds of her pale blue dress covering her dignity, chin resting upon her bare legs. "It's silly though. Because you're never going to come back, are you?"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 12, 2008 19:29:28 GMT -5
Even though he was a Dream, John loved to wander through the cemetery. It was interesting (albeit in a rather morbid fashion) to read the epitaphs on the graves, pondering what had happened to some of the inhabitants of this place. At other times, it was almost more than the man could bear before he had to go away and play music for himself.
On this particular night, John Raven was just out for a stroll, having just finished a rehearsal with The Dreamcatchers. He had been to the Opera House before coming to the cemetery, though, double-checking his scores to make sure everything was in order; he was obsessive about his music like that.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather coat, John produced a Zippo and lit up. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he looked around, finally noticing the girl sitting beside a grave he'd often seen in his rambling walks.
He took a step toward her, trying to remain unnoticed. Oh, she was crying. Well, he would attempt not to bother her, then. Turning as quietly as he could in the opposite direction, he scanned the area, trying to figure out where to go. Ah, the cathedral. It was almost always deserted and quite peaceful. Mind made up, he took a step toward the cathedral, only to step on a twig with a very loud SNAP.
Wincing, he stood where he was, wondering if the girl had heard that. Fool, he told himself mentally, There's almost no way she couldn't have heard that. Remaining still, he just took a drag off his cigarette, trying not to be imposing.
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Post by rose on Feb 12, 2008 20:21:14 GMT -5
Zurie was so enraptured in the mourning of her deceased fiancé (which had not been marked on the headstone due to the turbulence of their leap from 'siblings' to lovers), that upon the sound of the snapping twig reaching her ears, she blanched a little, heart thundering in her ribcage, stomach contorting into twist of hope and momentary joy- had her prayers been heard? Was Cole alive? Was his death a figment of her imagination, which she had been weaving to distract herself from a latent truth, and he'd come back to make everything okay again?
Her fluffy blonde waves bounced slightly as her head flitted around in all directions, scanning the cemetery for the source of the noise. Disappointment was apparent upon her tear stained face as her azure gaze swept across the culprit. Of course it wasn't him. It was some random passer-by, puffing away on a 'cancer stick', as mother called them.
"Can I help you?" She queried, sniffing deliberately loud enough for him to hear her, rubbing at the possible black smudges staining her lower eyelids down to her cheeks (thanks to the crying). "Or would you rather watch me mourn my dead brother?"
Brother came to her before fiancé, though Zurie was not about to correct herself on the behalf of a stranger.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 13, 2008 2:25:14 GMT -5
My, the girl certainly seemed jumpy. At her words, though, John shook his head. "Sorry, love," he murmured, Liverpudlian accent showing through today. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just passin' through."
Finishing his ciggy, John put it out, pocketing the butt to dispose of later. "Sorry about your brother," he told her quietly. "I'll just leave you alone, then, if you like." Clearly there was something more going on here than just a dead brother. Maybe he had died recently or something like that. He stood rather awkwardly, itching to play something to relieve the tension.
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Post by rose on Feb 13, 2008 7:28:13 GMT -5
"Sorry about your brother,"
Sorry? Sorry was only a term used to express sympathy, or politeness. But this man didn't know Cole, how he made Zurie's heart break out in joyous ecstasy each time she saw him, how his soothing voice washed away her fears, doubts and troubles, that he was her soul mate. Then again, her better nature told her to be calm, it would be disrespectful to the deceased if she began yelling.
"It's okay, I can't assume I'm the only person in the world who comes here," she mused, pursing her lips, though her gaze was lowered to avoid looking at him directly. "I just got a bit... Caught up in the moment as you can see." A notion to her blotchy complexion. As she surveyed John cautiously, not wanting to be too obvious, she felt he looked familiar.
"Um... Not to seem ruder than I already have been," she began. "But... Do I know you? I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before..."
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Post by Maestro on Feb 13, 2008 18:44:02 GMT -5
He watched her curiously, clearly seeing that she had been 'caught up in the moment,' as she put it. Shifting the guitar on his back, John shrugged slightly. "I didn't mean to intrude," he told her, still basically apologizing for showing up and disturbing the time she spent by her brother's grave.
"Don't worry, love; you're not being any ruder than I've already been tonight," he murmured, a wry sort of grin on his face. When she said that she'd seen him somewhere before, though, his sense of manners abruptly returned.
"There I go, bein' even more rude. John Raven," he introduced himself, holding out his right hand, keeping his left on the strap of his guitar case.
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Post by rose on Feb 13, 2008 19:10:57 GMT -5
She became at ease slightly, upon realising that he probably meant no harm and had no intention of being unfriendly or sneering at her for talking to a dead person buried several feet beneath them. Zurie returned the smile, though her own version was full of less positive emotion- it would take a little longer for her grief to be submerged beneath her happiness.
"Zurie Tennant," she responded politely, rising to her feet (adorned with ballet pumps the same colour as her dress), taking his hand somewhat gingerly and shaking it- eyes widening as his name struck a part of her memory.
"Wait- John Raven?" She echoed, her jaw slightly agape. "My father has all your records!" The girl breathed, not mentioning the fact that she and Cole used to cringe each time he played them and attempted to 'sing' along. "If he knew I was here with you... Well... It'd be worse than a stampede of fangirls, I'll tell you."
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Post by Maestro on Feb 13, 2008 19:29:48 GMT -5
Seeing that she had relaxed a bit, John smiled. "Do you come here often?" he asked, his tone curious, clearly not meant to be prying. "Whenever I'm over in Chimera, after a long day at the di Incubi, I like to come here for a few minutes; it just seems peaceful," he explained, figuring that, as a Dream, he needed to explain why he liked to lurk in cemeteries.
"Pleasure to meet you, Zurie," he responded, planting a light kiss on her hand once she was done shaking his. Yes, it seemed an outdated gesture, but even though he hadn't been around in the hand-kissing eras, it seemed right that he would do such a thing.
He nodded, grinning. "Yeah, that's right. John Raven." John laughed a bit, used to this sort of reaction. "Well, it's nice to know that someone enjoys my music." At her last words, his friendly grin turned a bit mischievous. Leaning in very slightly, he said, in a sort of conspiratorial manner, "Well, then, we'd best not tell him." He was joking, of course; if her father wanted to meet him, that was perfectly fine with the young Dream.
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Post by rose on Feb 13, 2008 19:47:42 GMT -5
Her thin blonde brows arched slightly upon hearing his question, restraining the urge to mutter a response about trying to pick her up. After all, father would be very intrigued to know the precise details of her encounter with his hero.
"I come here from time to time, to visit Cole," she murmured, gesturing with her head to the white stone behind her, and the rose which lay upon the mound. "Other than that, I tend to stick around the Dream territory. Overprotective parents, and the like," came her quick addition, to divert him from any further questions he had to ask.
The kiss on the hand was a completely unexpected occurrence, the young girl blanching with a tinge of scarlet in her cheeks.
"Um... Uh..." She stammered, not used to such forwardness. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Raven." It worsened as he neared her, the girl's affliction spreading to her neck. Trying to compose herself, she chuckled lightly.
"Yeah, we better not," she grinned with slight less embarrassment. "I rather like my hand on my arm and not stuck in a frame in our living room."
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Post by Maestro on Feb 13, 2008 20:33:49 GMT -5
He nodded, a respectful little bow in the direction of Cole's grave. Looking back up at Zurie, he smiled a bit. "Understandable, that," he murmured. Even though he was in Chimera a lot because of the di Incubi did not mean that most Dreams were; they tended to prefer Dreamland's warmth and sun.
Laughing a bit, he told her, "Please, call me John. Mr. Raven sounds too much like I'm going to start saying 'Nevermore!' at people." With a grin, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the small notebook he always kept with him (for writing down lyrics, of course).
"Here, love," he murmured, scribbling down his name and tearing the page from the notebook. "Hopefully this will keep your hand attached to your arm." He grinned, adding, "If that's not enough for your father, I'm sure something can be arranged." He was half-joking, but if her father wanted to meet him, that was perfectly fine; he was used to people fawning over him. Frankly, it was annoying sometimes, but he dealt with it pretty well, he thought.
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Post by rose on Feb 14, 2008 9:34:45 GMT -5
"All right then, John it is," she grinned, finding it very amusing that she, a mere Dream girl was on first-name terms with a famous rock star. Zurie was already formulating a plan within her blonde head (she surpassed typical sterotypes that blondes were clueless bimbo clones of Barbie dolls). He had mentioned the opera house in Chimera, located in Nightmare territory. This meant two things- firstly, he had connections rooted in both of the deparments, and secondly, she would have to scrub at her hand later, in order to dissolve any traces of Nightmare he may have passed onto her skin.
"Nevermore? Oh, you must mean that old poem." Poetry, particularly slightly gothic poetry was not within Zurie's field of interest, but even she had heard of Poe. "Heh, it'd be funny if you did though- but people would possibly think you were crazy."
He piqued her curiosity as he drew the notebook from his pocket, the girl wondering what exactly he was writing on it. "Thanks, oh great one," she joked, taking the autograph and examining it. "Yeah, this'll hopefully be enough to avoid amputation. Hopefully, he won't badger me too much for anything else..." Her gaze lowered, mind furiously working. If she could get in with him, then he might be able to lead her to the Nightmares who she deemed unworthy of living.
"Say,if you're not busy doing anything right now, I could take you to meet him. I mean, only if you want to and all, you've probably got all kinds of appointments with the rich and famous lined up..." Her lips formed a miniature 'o' shape, blue eyes staring right into his, not so subtle hints.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 14, 2008 18:23:57 GMT -5
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, grinning. "There are a few people who insist on calling me "Mr. Raven" no matter how many times I tell them to call me John." He made an absurd face, grin still in place.
With a bit of a laugh, he nodded. "Yeah, old Poe made it right hard for me to introduce myself without having someone snickering in a corner." At her words about people thinking he was crazy, he laughed whole-heartedly. "When people see me muttering lyrics or working out riffs under my breath, they already DO think I'm crazy, love," he told her, still chuckling.
Grinning, he waved off her title, using a 'regal' air. "Not at all, oh, peasant one," he intoned, accent gone high-end. Laughing, he dropped the put-on accent, slipping back into his more natural (for today) dialect. "And if he does badger you, just tell him that you're no such animal," he quipped, winking.
"That's not a bad idea!" he said, smile on his face. John shook his head, laughing. "No, the only appointments I really have are for playing gigs, at the moment, and there's not much of that right now. There will be in a day or so, but I'm free right now." Shifting his guitar slightly, he bowed, grinning. "Lay on, Macduff."
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Post by rose on Feb 14, 2008 18:36:19 GMT -5
He had a wicked sense of humour, each amusing twist he made in response to her own statements causing her cherubic lips to arch upwards in a grin.
"Great! He'll be so pumped to meet his hero!" She beamed, mentally punching the air- phase one of her masterplan had been initiated successfully. "Right then, Crazy-John." Zurie's eyes twinkled mischieviously as she strung the nickname together, fair brows raising as he made the sweeping motion that formed his bow. "Let me say good night to my brother, and then we'll head to my house, if that's okay."
The young Dream did not even allow for him to respond, for she withdrew herself to her lover's grave and placed one hand affectionately upon the marble, positioning the rose appropriately across the mound and staring longingly at the gilted letters.
"I love you," she whispered inaudibly, her voice similar to the sound of a gentle wind rippling through the trees. "I'll come back soon, okay?" With one final contemplation of how things would have been had he not been murdered, she rose to her feet, cautiously treading towards John, not wanting to tread on other deceased. "Shall we be off then?"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 15, 2008 12:23:49 GMT -5
"I'll admit, it's always nice to meet uber-fans," John laughed, smiling at her excitement. With an innocent grin, he raised an eyebrow. "Crazy-John, eh?" he asked. "In that case, why not just call me John Ravin'?" he quipped, grin turning wicked.
He became much more solemn at the mention of her brother. "Of course, love," he said quietly, taking a few steps backward to give her some space. "Take as much time as you need," he added, very respectful of what it felt like to lose someone close to you.
As she spoke, he could not hear her words, but he bowed his head, nonetheless. John had always been more than conscious of death, especially for a Dream, and he knew that it affected people differently. Therefore, in his mind, all he could do was show that he did not disdain those that felt the need to pay their respects to the deceased.
Brought back to the time at hand by her words (clearly, he's a day-dreamer XD), he looked up, a ready smile on his face. "Lead the way, oh peasant one," he said, accent regal and nose in the air. John managed to hold that pose for about two seconds before he grinned and started to laugh. "Yeah, I'm ready," he amended, his expression amused.
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Post by rose on Feb 15, 2008 15:47:01 GMT -5
"Oh whatever, Mr. Ravin'," Zurie pouted, jokingly dismissing him with her hand. The young Dream began to walk ahead, weaving in and out of the stone tablets so that she was treading on less 'sacred' earth. Speaking of earth, he was more down-to-earth than she had expected one of his calibre to be- many stars such as himself were less tolerant of nobodies such as herself.
"It's not too far from here!" She called out to him, having put a decent few yard's worth of distance between them. "The house is just beyond the outskirts of Dream territory, I promise it shan't take long!" Zurie threw in a convincing smile with her information-giving.
((I'm going to do a time warp, if that's okay. -starts to dance- Wait wait, not THAT kind of time warp. >_>;))
Zurie Tennant lived in a fairly respectable area of the suburbs, where the houses stood in uniform, their only differences the pastel colours coated upon the walls. In her own front yard, not unlike the others, flowers had been neatly and nurturingly cultivated to stand to attention, roses and hyacinths, daffodils and tulips were planted in a rainbow of colours within the flower beds, petals tucked snugly against oneanother as they slept.
Placing one hand on the white wooden gate (which matched the quaint picket fence seperating their outside space from the rest), she swung it open, passing through and holding it open for him. A bright light glowed through the lace net curtains strung across the window- if one peered through the layers of glass and fabric, they would see a middle-aged couple sprawled on the floor, arms and legs entangled, one trying to spin the spinner to declare whether right hand should go on yellow next, or left foot on blue.
"Well, this is it," she smiled weakly. "I must stress, I shall disown my father if he does anything you might find weird or would ruin any positive opinions you'd have of me."
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