Who mourn the missing? (5/14 Midnight-- Open)

Donned in her long, flowing black cloak, her hood over her head, the dark gypsy would wander throughout the cemetery with staff in hand. In her other hand, she held a thin piece of slate with writing on one side as well as a few lilies. Due to the recent events and being warned to not go to her cabin because of the Mafia wars, she had her goon, Demetri, accompany her here to keep an eye out, so she could pay her respects in peace. Having been told of one of her best friend's disappearance and likely death, since the woman broke her neck, Rose would wander to a willow tree growing in the park. Seeming to be shrouded in darkness, due to her attire, she would not be easily noticeable in the night, however that did not stop her from keeping aware of her surroundings by listening for any who might be about the cemetery at night.

Once underneath the willow, she'd kneel at the trunk, and erect the slab of slate into the ground, which read " Tara -- Beloved friend -- April 1932". Laying the lilies in front of the stone, several tears fell down her cheeks as she whispered a small prayer to the dead in Romanian.

Rose was upset about her missing friend, but the lingering doubts just wouldnt let her mourn properly..

There was a good chance that Tara might be somewhere out there beyond all that's familiar.. Beyond the shores, Beyond the bounds of the Earth, Beyond every star any astronomer might notice as familiar...

A familiar Trucker would approach the gypsy. Less than a friend but more than a stranger.

"Long time no see doll-face." He said while kneeling down in front of another grave stone entirely. He looked lost for a moment and even an idiot would pick up on the crack in his voice. He was clearly on the verge of tears. Rose was a welcome distraction from the task at hand.

"Geoffery." He said as a reminder in case she had forgotten him.

Something still definitely bothered her about Tara's disappearance through the portal, but the most disheartening thing was that she could not find closure.

Rose jumped slightly as she hadn't been expecting company in the graveyard. The gypsy noticed the crack in his voice. She didn't seem too concerned by his presence as she knew Demetri was close by, watching from the shadows. She'd give the man a warm smile, "Geoffrey, how are you? Yes, I remember you from the roadhouse."

"I've been better.. The damn storm killed a close friend of mine. He died in the mudslide just off the highway that leads to Ol' Hibbs.." He says with a tear forming in his right eye. He quickly brushes it aside and attempts to look manly as possible.

"Ain't nothin I think could put a girl like you down for the count. I knew that ol' storm never stood a Chance against you Rose. Your a survivor through and through ain't cha?" The Trucker said with as much gusto as he could summon.

The headstone he stood in front of him read:

Thomas Pickett: 1911-1932.

Rose stood tall, pulling her cloak closer around her form to add additional warmth from the chilly night air, "It appears ve've' both lost dear friends to the storm."

His comment made her grin, though she wondered how he could assume her a survivor, seeing they had only both eaten a meal at Hibb's and hadn't seen each other since...unless maybe he had been keeping an eye on her? Who knew? She'd give a small shrug, 'I do vat' I can to keep myself alive. Thankfully my home is a strong enough one that eet' vasn't' effected by the storm, except for a few bits of debris that needed to be removed. I'm glad to see that you stayed safe in the brunt of it all."

She took notice of the headstone, trying to search her memory for if the name of the deceased rang a bell.

The name meant nothing to her.

"I was in Oklahoma.. I missed the storm by over a week.. I thought that he'd have more sense than to try and weather Hurricane Dante. I can't do nothin' bout it now." He says with a grimace.

He'll look over and smile at Rose weakly, attempting to
Muster some charm. "Who was your friend?" He asks hoping secretly that its her boyfriend.

She'd look down at his friend's grave, "Many here sat it out, but I heard a few did evacuate."

Rose would smile, looking down at her makeshift marker, "My best friend Tara." She'd cast her cast her chocolate hues towards him, "So what brings you out this late to the cemetery?"

"Don't have much to say bout' mah schedule.. At the mercy of the dispatcher. I had to make time to come here and say goodbye and apologize to Tom.. Couldn't find time to see him when I was here last. We used to hunt together back home and get into all sorts of trouble. We grew up and than apart I suppose. Friends tend to do that right?" He asks with a defeated look upon his face.

She'd smile, remembering her adventures with Tara...as well as their misadventures, giving a nod before gently placing her hand on his shoulder, "Yeah...some friends do tend to do that."

The gypsy gently gave his back a pat, "How about ve' find a place to have a drink for those ve' lost?"

It was part of the grieving process of many europeans -- drink to the deceased.

"I'd like that. Lead on." He said quietly.

Geoff follows Rose to wherever she feels like leading him.

She'll give her goon, Demetri, a subtle signal, that would be oblivious to Geoffrey, to follow her and keep his distance.

She'd then turn and lead Geoffrey to French Hill's side of town and make her way to the Spirits Inn.

Demetri gives a curt nod and vanishes into the shadows. Rose knows that he is nearby, but giving them a respectful distance to converse privately. Geoff follows to the Spirits End, although there is the sound of occasional gunfire.