Entry #A-14: "Antiscriptural" [Video, Forward-Dated Action to Friday, 10/24]

[dead_black_eyes]

[Notably, it's the first time L's put his face on the Network. It's composed and deliberate; he looks into the camera with a cold gaze that never falters or glances aside even for a moment as he speaks. His voice is similarly frigid, tone flat and emotionless.]

I'm sure many of you know this already, but Anthony Janvier was gunned down on Friday. He was at work, and it was a barbaric act of mob violence scarcely befitting such a gentle soul. He was brave and kind to his last moment, and I don't think I only speak for myself when I say I have lost a friend.

[He hasn't blinked yet; that stare could burn holes in liars and killers. It's a dare, a challenge to acknowledge futility and look away first.]

I'm not sentimental, or Catholic. Anthony was both. His funeral is tomorrow morning, because that's what people do: we mourn, we remember, and we mend. I understand that there are some who intend to picket the funeral; if you're afraid, don't bother coming, but if you're not... it's Friday, 10 AM at the Sacred Heart Cathedral.

[[OOC: The funeral is up! Please feel free to use it as a mingle post and start your own prompts.]]

Comments

[Video]

[charcoalfeather]

He's... dead?!

[Rakka's hands are over her mouth, her eyes wide in shock and horror. She'd only seen Anthony on the Network, but to hear about him being shot...]

[Video]

[dead_black_eyes]

Dead indeed.

[Rakka's horrified reaction seems to plead for some reciprocation, some shock or grief to match hers, but L's pale features remain as rigid and fixed as his gaze.]

It's not right, is it?

Voice

[icy_heavens]

[Quietly, but firmly:] I'll make time.

[Video]

[dead_black_eyes]

I value your time, and thank you for it on Anthony's behalf. He never knew what he deserved, or felt it was right to ask for it, but I have no qualms.

[Video]

[oncedevil]

[He looks.. harsher, than normal. Same as L. These scars will take a long time to mend.]

I'll be there.

[Video]

[dead_black_eyes]

That's something I've learned I can rely on you for. It's getting harder to think of times when you haven't been there.

[That tone softens only for Tony, a trace of wonder and gratitude there.]

[Text]

[dominateartimus]

I will attend. Thank you for taking time to arrange a funeral.

[Video]

[dead_black_eyes]

It would mean a great deal to Anthony... and if I hadn't, someone else would definitely have risen to the occasion.

[It's actually been a nightmare. The cathedral, the third he'd inquired at after being turned away from the other two, had refused to perform a service for Anthony unless L paid four times the price a non-Numbered citizen of Locke would need to. Now there are picketers to worry about.]

[video]

[truthcharted]

[Kevin can't meet L's gaze to begin with; he looks a little pale himself.] I saw some of the crime scene materials. I feel like we've failed... again. I may not have known him well personally, but he didn't deserve this. I know that much.

I'll be there, making sure nothing gets out of hand. Whether I can do it on the books or not. If someone wants to get to you and the others, they're going to have to go through me. That much, I can make happen.

[video]

[dead_black_eyes]

[L's eyes narrow; this isn't someone he recognizes, and it's definitely not someone he's spoken to. Still, the man talks like he's familiar with the incident, and he's both sympathetic and helpful. The promise of attending just to protect mourners, alone, is immensely valuable and appreciated.]

I'm not afraid.

[It's said with chilling conviction. Since L was held and tortured by the Mafia alongside Tony in August, he hasn't felt fear. When there's danger, he reacts, but that gnawing anxiety in the pit of a person's stomach, the alarm bells, the pounding heart and cold sweat... they seem lost to him, disconnected and distant.]

Anthony wouldn't want others to come to harm on his account, though, and while I believe we have the right to mourn... some disagree, and I can't protect everyone.

[I couldn't protect Anthony, he doesn't say, though he thinks it, and remembers how he'd tried to save him with a fraction of a second making all the difference.]

Who are you? We haven't spoken and if I'm to be indebted to someone I want to know more than their kind intentions.

[scarlet_devil]

I will be there.

[She never met Antony in person, not properly, but she knew he meant no-one any harm. This latest attack only confirms in her mind that for the most part, non-Numbered are potential enemies. The only exceptions would be former Numbered and family.]

Friday, 10/20, 10 AM- Sacred Heart Cathedral

[dead_black_eyes]

[Welcome to the funeral of Anthony Janvier. Whether you've attended openly or you're in disguise or other concealment, you're brave just to be here; the priest doesn't look fully certain he's safe. Neither do the huddled, grieving parents of the undead teen, seated by Anthony's closed coffin. Outside, people are chanting something, and every now and then they get close to the doors. The rustle and clamor of restless movement is difficult to ignore; ironically, at the funeral of a supposed zombie, it feels like being under siege by the real thing.

As the ceremony progresses, a gentle song is played in memory of Anthony. There's a sound of breaking glass outside and the chanting takes on new fervor and volume; a slender and rigid figure bolts to his feet, moves toward the front of the cathedral, and cranks the sound system higher to drown out the cacophony before he resumes his seat, a bamboo staff held tightly at his side in a white-knuckled grip as Anthony's parents cling to each other and tremble.

It definitely wasn't easy for you to get here today, no matter how much you cared about Anthony or how strong or brave you are, but the fact that you're here means something powerful to the others. Many glances are exchanged among the mourners, respect and silent honor passing through the cathedral. "Thank you for coming," the parents intone multiple times, but you've felt it already through those who have witnessed and saluted your presence. As you mingle, share stories and offer sympathy, it's hard not to feel safe despite the ruckus outside, because you're among friends, both living and departed.

Whether you're here to quietly partake in the modest offering of punch and cookies or you're on the front lines of defense to make sure no one disrupts the proceedings, the fact that you came won't soon be forgotten... whether or not the media picks out your face when you leave and identifies you as Numbered.]

Open - Before or after the service

[icy_heavens]

[Toushirou hadn't been close to Anthony, but they'd both been in on this from the beginning, and really, is there any of them that deserved this fate less than Anthony? The thought of it both saddens him and makes him angry -- just not so angry that he'll approve of actions certain others will take eventually.

[Granny had gotten him excused from school today, but she's not here with him. She'd offered, but he'd refused. There's still the mafia to worry about, and he doesn't want to be publicly identified when she's with him. Coming on his own is better; he can still evade detection this way. And he does. Shunpo is good for getting around crowds; the protesters don't even see him go in, he moves so fast. His appearance in the cathedral essentially comes out of nowhere, even if you're watching the door.

[He'll sit near the back during the service, since he doesn't feel like it's his place to be at the front. Every so often, he glares over his shoulder at the noise the protesters make.

[He sticks around for a while afterward, idly snacking, but mostly in deep thought. Things are going to get even harder from here.]

[professorwolf]

Mornings aren't really the best time of day for Lyall, nor, in fact, are crowds something he enjoys at all. But he's been here since the beginning, and Anthony was one of them and his former student. So he's here, pacing briskly through the crowd of protesters, with earplugs in so the shouting doesn't make him wince with each step. They just make him want to growl, instead, though he keeps his expression neutral.

He greets Anthony's parents, assures them their son was an amazing person who will be sorely missed, and sits somewhere in the middle for the service. He doesn't stay long during the mingle afterwards, but he's there long enough to grab if anyone wants him for anything.

Open, either for Torin or lovesick NPC protesters

[radiantchicken]

It was difficult for Torin to find clothing that fit. Anything he wore had to be specially made, and while he'd made some effort to learn how to sew, it was just easier to commission things from people online who made specialty clothing for a living. He was glad he'd gone through the effort of having a few things made, because wearing his usual white robes at a funeral seemed tacky somehow. He had on dark robes very similar to his white ones, which helped him not to stick out quite as badly as a bird-dinosaur-man might otherwise.

Not sticking out was very important, for he had a plan to take care of some of the protesters. He made sure to arm his weird dinosaur-shaped gun in the bathroom, where anyone in the middle of their business might hear it screech "GABURINCHO! STYMEEEEERO!" from a stall. Then, with the weapon safely hidden within his robes, he slipped outside to where the protesters were picketing with various anti-numbered signs. It was, in Torin's estimation, not exactly the mark of a civilized people, to protest at the funeral of a child killed by senseless violence. He wanted them to leave, or at the very least, to make fools enough of themselves to discredit their position. That was why he had the gun.

He lingered there for a moment, quietly watching them. He was very obviously numbered; if they spotted him, they'd let him know soon enough with shouting and threats of violence. When that didn't come, Torin quickly took his shot. He wasn't too worried about aiming; it was a quick shot from the hip, and he rolled back behind cover before he could see the effects of his attack. The gun was loud, and so it shouted something Torin couldn't quite make out before the attack hit. Torin hoped it might sound just like a protester getting unintelligibly loud. Besides, it wasn't like the protesters would have much time to worry about that loud noise. Not since the attack set in.

Torin had two very important reasons for not wanting to be seen. One was, obviously enough, so that the protesters or any members of the media wouldn't realize he had taken a shot at them with some bizarre unlicensed handgun. The other was that the attack he had used, the one powered by Stymero's Beast Battery, caused the victim to experience intense infatuation for the first person they laid eyes on. Torin had no intentions of dealing with a suddenly lovesick protester waxing poetic about the brilliant colors of his plumage. The effects weren't permanent and would wear off on their own, but Torin thought they might hold out long enough to give the mourners some peace. Besides, even if it only lasted five minutes, the confusion it sowed among the protesters would be great. He regretted that he had but one shot before the battery's charge was spent, but just one shot was still worth it.

The effect of the attack was instantaneous. Several of the protesters dropped their signs and stared dumbstruck at whoever they'd been looking at before Torin launched his attack. Some of them swooned. Several of them began shouting. "My love!" "My darling!" "You're so hot!" Those affected launched themselves at the targets of their adoration. In a few cases, the feeling was mutual and hot and heavy makeout sessions started up then and there. In other cases, the would-be admirer was left chasing after the target of their affection, who may or may not have been another protester. Torin hoped they didn't decide to try to get huggy with any of his fellow numbered.

With his work done, he was able to use the confusion of the sudden love-fest to slip back into the church, safely tucking the gun and the battery back into his robes. Hopefully, no one had noticed what he'd been up to. Just a perfectly innocent bird-dinosaur-man who had set a love attack off on some unsuspecting jerkwad protesters.

Open if you like

[guitar_case_vagabond]

The truth was, Raye had hardly known the kid inside the casket but she'd seen him on the network. But knowing him wasn't too important right now, what was important was that he'd been one of them and he'd lost his life the way she had come so goddamned close to not long ago. The way she should have according to some people.

She'd missed the funeral that had resulted from that attack. She wasn't gonna miss this one.

Still, she's not very good at this. Kind words and condolences didn't come naturally to her but there is one thing she can do. And so, after exchanging greetings with Anthony's parents, she's heading back outside the cathedral but she's not on her way home. Not by a long shot.

She pauses for a moment just outside the door, eyeing the assembled crowd before walking down the path and coming to a halt at the halfway point. A flurry of motion and a few mechanical sounds and the Scissor Blade flashes out into her hand and she brings the point down, burying the blade several inches into the ground through the stone path.

It's a simple, yet effective message. It's a line, and nobody crosses it.

Further cementing her statement, she steps around the blade and leans back against it, arms folded and just looks ahead at the protestors, unflinching and wordless.

No, kind words are not something she does, but she will offer the best she can to the people mourning the loss.

She stands guard.

Open

[chalicejoker]

Hajime has of course shown up, but he's keeping to the edge of things. He's big, and he's noticeable, and he is not at all good at dealing with funerals or grief or anything of the sort. He has expressed his sympathy to Anthony's parents, though he doesn't know how helpful that actually was since he's a giant bug. Mostly, he'll just hang around the outskirts, keeping an eye on things. He's not the most social bug in the world on a good day, and yesterday, he had another friend die. He wasn't fast enough to save Shou, and he was there for the death, and it's wearing on him.

Plus, the funeral is a sobering reminder of what could happen to him, that one day some of the other Numbered would show up at his parents' place with a dead bug and they'd never have known. He'll have to tell them, at least to warn them, and that thought leaves him even more melancholy.

But in the meantime, he can lurk around the edges and make sure he can stop any trouble he spots before it starts. It's something.

[ursoreckless]

Shou couldn't make it. He was sitting in the darkest room he could find, growling to himself about how stupidly unfair this whole daylight thing was. The bullets were out, he had a meal consisting of really stale blood - blood bags were okay but there were the bits of plastic and the chemical taste just no - and while he should sleep, he wasn't feeling it. He also was a bit annoyed that he couldn't attend Anthony's funeral. He had been a nice kid and did not deserve a bunch of assholes killing him because he was different.

So after a mid-flight talk with his folks, a call to his lawyers to make sure they got the information from Hajime, Shou decided to give a call to some buddies. They talked a bit first and when Shou made his request, the laughter on the other end followed by a reassuring 'just waiting for you to ask' lifted a little of his mood.

So, about a half an hour later, protestors and visitors and everyone else would hear the rumble of several motorbikes as they turned onto the street in complete formation. There might be some jamming up of cars and the like, but the bikers didn't seem to care or notice as they pulled into several free parking spaces and got off the bikes. The man in the lead was solidly built with some of the muscles turning into fat due to age, his face set in a scowl under the fall of curly gray hair and a faded red, white and blue do-rag. His leathers was covered in hundreds of patches, the largest that of a huge eagle on his back. Other members of the gang wore some of the same patches or held themselves in the same way, but all look a bit like they would break the teeth of anyone that sneezed wrong.

A snap of his fingers and the gang split up and used their bulk and frowns to cut between protestors and push them to a more respectable distant from the church's doors. The women from the gang stood back and escorted those willing to go inside from their cars, even offering help to those that had difficulty walking or chatting about anything but the protesting happening mere inches away.

Then there was the two not quite right gang members, who wore chaps over respectable business suits that cost more than most people made in several months. These two zeroed in on the leaders of the protesting group, took out their cell phones, and started reading to them the city ordinances concerning protesting and just how many fines they could get charged with if they did not follow the rules, and if asked what they thought they were trying to prove, the more senior of the two - tall, dark and sporting purple lipstick and diamond studded bracelets - took out her business card to give to that person. Having muscle is one thing, but having muscle and a law firm that usually protects the interests of Fortune 500 who's who had to be a winning combination.

Open if you want

[charcoalfeather]

Rakka wasn't going to stand guard, she'd had enough of people like this and just wanted to make her way into the church. There was no disguise this time, and when someone looking like an angel appeared at a funeral, people gave way. They didn't know what she was capable of, she didn't know what she was capable of.

But, if it got the crowd to quiet down a bit, she'd take it.

This was the first funeral she'd ever been to. Her spirits were low, but she was doing her best. She makes sure to say some kind things to the parents before she sits down near the back, trying to make sure she doesn't cry.

Open

[purestambition]

Saretha didn't know Anthony, but she had spoken with him just prior to his death. He knew something, at one point, it seemed. Perhaps something that could have helped them, in the long run... but whatever that was, it was taken with him to his grave.

She isn't bitter about that. There's no reason to be - he was a kid. He was scared. He didn't deserve this. With this, Saretha is on the outskirts of a third death in the past month, and in what could be assuredly surprising to anyone who knows her... Seeing all of it is starting to take its toll, as well as increase her resolve.

She's already public, of course - so being spotted isn't a problem. She thus does the exact opposite of keeping her head down. If anything, she rather tries to make certain that if there is attention to be drawn, she pulls at it as well she can, arriving right up front in a limo.

She wants the cameras that have already caught her on film to know she's there. She wants certain people to know, as well.

This is not going to go unanswered, and thus... her own goals have shifted yet again.

For now, she will focus on the here and now, and be respectful of the departed. But she's still trying to think five steps ahead, even if she's constantly having to predict potholes in her path.

Open

[scarlet_devil]

Emilia frankly made something of a spectacle of herself when she arrived, flying down from on high with her parasol in one hand, and Gungnir in the other, glaring at the protesters as if daring them to take her on as she lands outside the cathedral doors.

With a particularly venomous insult in Romanian, she turns and strides in, letting Gungnir's energy dissipate as she does so.

Those gathered inside will see the vampire sighing wearily before she went to mingle, but eventually she returns to the doors, quietly standing guard.

Open

[greenisthenewblack]

Sheila has never been good at these sorts of things, and she's certainly never had to attend the funeral of one of her students before. But she wasn't missing this one. A boy was dead - murdered as brutally as anyone could imagine - and she had to see it. Had to accept the reality that this would keep happening unless and until someone did something to stop it.

She was getting real fed up with playing nice.

So she stood at the back, green skin particularly conspicuous against the black suit she'd worn. Her expression was hard and serious and cold. Not the most approachable attendee, perhaps, but she clearly has a lot going through her mind right now.

Open

[ruleorserve]

Emil is a quiet presence, for most of the service. He can't claim to have known Anthony very well, but this fate is one that shouldn't have befallen anyone. Regardless of what they should look like or happen to be. Nor should parents be asked to bury a child. But he can't turn back time. No one can, and if this marks him out as being pro-Numbered at the very least, he doesn't care.

He's taken time off for this, and he's lucky to have managed it on such short notice.

His choices of outfit already tend to black, and today is no exception. He doesn't make much of an attempt to speak to people, instead preferring to stand silently near the back, but he's not keeping people away either - if someone wants to speak to him they're more than free to and he'll likely answer.

video

[youngestone]

You okay?

[Video]

[dead_black_eyes]

[He has to stare at the screen a little while before the question makes sense.]

Yeah. Just a bit tired.

Did you know Anthony?

[Voice]

[gobybessie]

...

Such a waste.

[Voice]

[dead_black_eyes]

Did you know Anthony well?