capodalina (capodalina) wrote in savingthegames, @ 2015-01-01 13:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | adalina schellenger, flordeliza fonseca |
Picketing Christian Rousse's Funeral
Who: Alice & Adalina
What: Picketing Christian Rouse's Funeral
Status: Open to interference, cameos or blurbs for anyone who would have attended
It was a beautiful morning. Not a cloud in the sky. No rain to set the mood. The only grey was on coats, ties and suits of mourners gathered around the flower-adorned casket. In some grandma's hair.
Adalina stood a noticeable about away from the gathered, dressed in (admittedly fashionable) funeral shades and the black lace of a well-to-do hat over half her face. A rosary was tangled in her fingers.
The pastor read whatever it is they read at funerals; did anyone even really care what he was saying? Adalina didn't. And neither did the approaching gaggle of sharply dressed gang members carting fluorescent signs. They spread out along the sidewalk as if the line of grass was an invisible forcefield. The garish signs were raised, boasting such inflammatory phrases as GOD HATES SUPES, GOOD RIDDANCE and 1 DOWN, 15 MILLION TO GO.
Adalina's back was to them, presumably unaware, when she patted her folded handkerchief to eye.
It took a few minutes for anyone to realize, but the Schellenger woman hadn't seen a single dirty look thrown her way yet. Excellent. Though it wasn't exactly difficult to keep her composure, something... suddenly... hm. Something wasn't right. But it wasn't wrong. But it wasn't right. Was she dreaming? Had she sleep-drank again? Colors left trails in her vision as she glanced behind her to the row of protesters.