======-< << Tamarack Falls - Meetinghouse Graveyard >> >-=======
Going back to the founding of the town, the oldest stones are dated well into the 1700s, slim slates mingling with newer granite memorials in a gently hilly plot of grassy land. Lichen's grey-green bloom adorns many of the older gravesites, at times obscuring parts of local names, but the town's famous families have their share of fame regardless. The Miller plot, especially, is extremely generous, with the town's founder given, for the time, quite the ostentatiously carved headstone.
A simple wall of grey granite blocks marks the graveyard's border, interrupted on the side nearest the street by an old iron gate with rusty hinges. The back of the church, nearby, overlooks the graveyard, though the building is seldom used during the week after dark, tours kept to the daylight hours.
Graveyards - they're usually quiet and sleepy, and not a lot of people are there at any given time. This is perfect for Seven, who's decided to take a nap behind a little mausoleum, curled up against the stone surface. His clothes are different - now he wears sturdy black cargo pants, a flannel shirt, the same nice leather jacket. No shoes or socks though - he's barefoot. But, he looks rather tidy for being him, though he could use a haircut and a shave. When sleeping, he looks peaceful and calm.
She'd come to Tamarack Falls looking for family, which had been fairly easy. There were Desrochers all over town, and she stayed on the Estate. The graveyard, however, offered a link to her kin that no longer lived, and it just.. made sense to come visit them, too. At least to look at the graves, to see who had come before. She was dressed as she usually was, in old jeans and a t-shirt, a dark blue hoodie on over that. Pale dreadlocks were loose around her shoulders, and she carried the scents of woodworking with her. It was happenstance, really, that her wandering path away from her family's plot was taking her past the corner of a particular mausoleum..
Even if sleeping, Seven's senses are good - and he HAS smelled her before. So, he twitches a little, his nose wrinkling; he opens one yellow - well, light brown eye - and squints around. Despite his size he's on his feet in a languid motion and steps out from behind that stone building, perhaps surprising her. Though to his credit, his expression is openly curious and he's not doing this to scare her.
She jumped. The graveyard was so quiet, and the motion so unexpected. She was more started than really scared, but any predator could sense fear and the thread of it in Saturna was perfectly reasonable. A moment of fight-or-flight before she realized who it was, and she laughed off her own reaction with a crooked smile. "I didn't expect to see anyone!"
Seven gets startled because she gets startled. He keeps forgetting not everyone can smell like he can. So, he stands very still and tries to look a bit less intimidating - he's not very good at this, with most people. But, he manages a crooked grin and he holds a hand up in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry." He's a man of few words, mostly. "Why I come here. Not many people." From a pocket, he digs out a half-eaten Mars bar; it's not in its wrapper and is very linty. He offers it to her, wordlessly.
"It's very peaceful." The tension is fading quickly, leaving Saturna relaxed and at ease. Comfortable, despite Seven's whole.. Seven-ness. "For me?" Looking to the chocolate and then back up to his face with a smile. "Save it for later, in case you get hungry?"
Seven's nod is confirmative. He tucks that chocolate away for later - but he did offer. It's a nice gesture, for him. There's a few moments of awkward silence when he just stares at her, struggling with this social thing. "They're all dead. Don't talk a lot," he says, trying a macabre joke. He looks to the mausoleum he was sleeping behind, squinting at the family name on top.
She does laugh, cracking a smile and glancing to the graves around them. "I don't know what I'd do if they -did- start talking to me, really. I don't think I'd be at all prepared to have a conversation with the dead." Lighthearted, though still candid. Making light of a situation far, far outside her comfort zone.. One that she really didn't expect to ever have to deal with.
"I think I would be running," Seven notes, agreeing wholeheartedly with Saturna on that. Apparently, there's some things that would freak out this giant. He cracks an amused grin though, and runs fingers along the faded chiseled patterns on the front of the grave house; flowers and vines. "If the dead talked to me. I would... run," he says quietly, and he looks sad suddenly. And pained.
Saturna lifts a hand, hesitating briefly before letting her fingertips rest lightly against his arm. Testing the contact before placing her whole hand on his arm, figuring it wouldn't be all that comforting if he didn't actually want to be touched. "I would be, too. Either that, or too scared to move." Softer, lowering her voice to keep the conversation closer.
Seven's head turns slowly, looking down at her fingers on his arm. He doesn't brush them away, his shoulders dropping a little as he sighs a deep, relaxing sigh. "They died. In the war," he tells her, looking squarely at her. There's no background story to it, but it's clear he remembers something, something terrible. "I don't remember their names any longer." He growls and closes his eyes, putting palms of his hands against his temples.
"I'm sorry, Seven." Softer still, her fingers still on his arm. Just a little bit of contact, a little bit of physical connection. Grounding, perhaps. "I can't imagine.." She trails off, unable to really settle on the words. She couldn't imagine war, or loss on that scale, the pain he must feel. What he'd gone through. None of it, really.
There's a shudder, and a brief struggle to compose himself. Saturna's comfort helps with this, perhaps - when he opens his eyes they're calm again, and most of the pain is gone. "It was a long time ago," he says, letting out a deep sigh to let that tension and memories go. "Maybe graveyards is not the best place for me, after all," he notes with wry humor. For some reason, around her, he remembers how to be a human being. Maybe because she is so very human. It's good for him, to get back in the real world. "Most people lost someone, didn't they. Maybe you did too. So I think maybe you /can/ imagine."
Saturna says, “I lost my grandfather recently, just before I moved here." Still quiet, for a moment. There's a pause, and then she just seems to pick her mood up-- pushing aside the gloominess, glancing towards the gate. "We could go for a walk, somewhere else.”
"I'm sorry," Seven says quietly. He has sympathy, it seems. At the suggestion to leave, to go for a walk, he nods - he begins a slow, languid stroll towards the gates of the graveyard. "We can go down to the river. I don't believe I have any bad memories about rivers," he says, cracking another grin at that. Despite the gravel, he walks without issues without shoes. Least with the recent weather, he can sort of get away with being barefoot.
"Thank you." A little smile and she's moving with him towards the gate. "Even if you do.. It might not be a bad thing to remember them sometimes, and work past them." She hasn't commented on his barefeet, but there is a glance when he walks so easily across all the gravel. "I haven't been to the Falls yet, but I've heard they're beautiful."
============-< << West Bank - River and Cross >> >-=============
Grassy land slopes sharply down toward the southern bridge over the river, crossing the winding line of the dirt-paved road along the Tam's safe western bank. The steepness of the hillside forces what few businesses do exist to cluster up against the town square to the west, though a dilapidated old bait and tackle shop, raised on low stilts against the occasional spring flooding of the river's banks, stands alone at the base of the hill to occupy a corner of the often soggy intersection.
Grating has been dug and placed in an attempt to keep the hill's runwater from eroding the dirt of the road too badly, a brief stretch of cracked pavement maintained around the bridge footing itself. Benches have been set on either side beneath twenty-year sugar maples, a fiery show of colour in the Autumn river wind.
The river here is far swifter, narrowing in its banks, and a potentially deadly challenge for the novice kayaker. Signs are posted to that effect, cautioning tourists that the waterfall is a mere three quarters of a mile south.
The river isn't far at all; out through the gates, turn right, walk past a block of houses and then down the riverbank. It's nice near the bridge footing with benches to sit on; some people are strolling about, but this IS a small town - there won't be a rush of people at any given time. Except maybe at the worst part of tourist season. So, their stroll doesn't take them long to get here, despite it being slow and steady. Seven never truly lets his guard down, so he studies everyone they meet, or sniffs the air often. "This town," he says thoughtfully, voice coarse and quiet, "is busier than one might think. SOmetimes, I like Fort Brunsett better. One can be alone there."
"It's smaller, less places for people to be? At least, close to town. It's usually quiet out by the brewery, and probably out into the woods." Bright blue eyes skim over everything, glancing at the people but mostly taking in the scenery. "It's more.. beautiful up here, though I've seen some nice areas of Fort Brunsett."
"The woods... I go out there sometimes. But I, forget who I am there." Seven is cryptic, but seem serious. He seems to want to be around where people are while NOT wanting to be where there's people at the same time. Coming up to a bench, he takes a seat and now takes out that linty chocolate; he eats it up without worrying about the lint. Least he keeps his mouth closed when chewing. "There is so much nice chocolate," he says and beams a sudden grin her way. There's some chocolate on his teeth, not very nice. He licks that off though and then pokes at his teeth with a nail. "And pizzas." It's like he's just discovered these foods.
"Like.. the first time we met?" Slightly hesitant to mention it, but curiousity clearly won. She was intrigued by him, and even her body language when she sat next to him spoke of it. Turned slightly towards him, leaned in a little bit. "Is it.. any woods? Or just the east bank?" Cautious about this for some reason, too.
"Yes. Like that," Seven agrees, shooting her a surprised look. "It's any woods. I spent too much time in forests," he reminisces, "and it's time I don't." He sniffs the air, smelling her as she moves closer - it seems to be a gesture done instinctively, like animals do. To make sure everything is as it should be. "East bank... Hmm. Someone said the East Bank was to be avoided. You heard about that too?"
Saturna simply nods, looking out across the river towards the east bank. "Nana warned me, the first time I ever really talked to her. I don't know -why- we're not supposed to go over there, though. Just that it's a bad idea."
"Lots of places you shouldn't go. I figure there's enough places you /can/ go, so I don't worry about it much," Seven admits, looking towards that said East Bank across the river. He leans back and stretches those long legs out, slouching lazily with half-lidded eyes that nevertheless dart about alertly; that laziness is fully deceptive. "Did I ask... what you do." He turns a curious stare at her. "I mean... work."
Saturna says, “That's a good way to look at it, really." Thoughtful, with a little quirky smile as if she hadn't expected such a revelation, for some reason. "We didn't talk about that, no. I'm a carpenter, I suppose, though I do all sorts of woodwork as a hobby. I'm guessing.. you don't work right now?”
Seven sits up straighter and turns a bit sideways now - his interest is immediately peaked. "Carpentry," he says, eyes fully wide. "No. I have no job. I'm not very good at the coming and going on time," he admits, almost sheepishly, rubbing that bearded jaw. "I like working with my hands. I can build, repair, fix, lift, haul - everything like that. I know how to hammer a nail, and use a saw. If you need help with some work..." He looks almost hopeful now.
Saturna says, “I'm certain I will, actually. The wildfires took a lot of buildings, and I'd like to help with rebuilding. I'd love the help." She beams up at him, all smiles and excitement. "I met a young woman; ..Clarice? She wants to help build a house, as well.”
"I will come. And more people, faster work." Seven seems half excited too about this, like doing something useful with his hands is an adventure, something he /needs/ to do. "I don't have one of those little telephones," he realises. "I might have to get one. But... if you give me your number, I can call you, and when I have a phone I will let you have my phone number."
Saturna smiles, warm and bright. "Logan probably knows who to talk to in the area, as well. I'll give him a call." She digs in her pocket, pulling out some folded piece of paper and the stub of a drafting pencil. She actually checks the math and notes written on it before flipping it over to write her number down. The paper's offered to Seven, naturally. "Cellphones can be handy. I think I use mine more for music than talking to people, though."
"I think the little telephones are scary. I don't understand the magic," Seven notes grimly. It's hard to say if he's serious or not, with that. "But I can have one, and not turn it on all the time. And I saw you can send little messages in text, too." He talks about them, too, as if it's an entirely new concept. Where has he been hiding for so long? "Did you know," he says, leaning in as if to tell her a secret, "they can even take /pictures/?"
Saturna says, “It's similar to a radio, I think." She seems amused, watching the river now. "Yeah, you can just send text messages. I prefer those, really, unless something's urgent or.. business? Or complicated.." She trails off a bit, but gives her head a little shake. "You can take pictures, yes. You can even link a picture with someone's name and phone number, to help you remember who they are."”
"So strange," Seven mutters, very wary of this 'magic'. "But yes, I suppose a picture of you coming up when you call or send a message, it is not a bad thing," he admits with a bit of a rakish grin. Where did that come from? The more he talks, and spends time with her, the more human he seems - but his archaic ways also come to the fore much more. His British accent is also more prominent the more normal he talks. "A radio. I think I understand that, but I don't understand the picture part of it. Radios couldn't send pictures," he muses. "But it is alright. It's another time, now. So many strange, exciting inventions."
Saturna says, “You'd have to find someone better at technology than me, to explain it." She laughs without any sense of self-deprecation. She knew where her strengths were, and this was one weakness she didn't mind at all. Was that a bit of colour in her cheeks, as well? A hint of a blush? "I should probably head back to the shop. I'm sure I'll see you again soon, though." Smiling, even as she stands back up.”
That telephone number, on that slip of paper - he stows that away safely in a pocket, folding it carefully. Like a little treasure. "Thank you, Saturna," he says, earnestly - he stands up politely even. "Soon," he agrees, and rather than linger, he starts walking down the path after saying a simple; "Bye, for now." He lifts a hand in a wave with his back turned, and soon disappears around a bend.
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