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[h3][color=662d91][i][b]Alexander Polawski[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Graveyard -> Bus
[i][b][color=662d91]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/BBfr494/Mugsy-1.jpg[/img][/right]
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	People were affected by the small ceremony they all had particepated in, however simple and brief it had been so far. All in their different ways, including Alexander himself, they all met death differently. He himself had shed a few tears in silence, some hugged and others did nothing. The stoic stance of Ash made Alexander give him a brief look, imagining what was going through the man's mind, probably the same that had filled his own many years ago in the same situation…

	[hider=Scenes from many funerals…]

	…Another humid day in the middle of God knew where, somewhere located in South Vietnam. A military base, an American one to be specific. Rows of soldiers in uniform stood around a single man wearing a cross and the Army's padre uniform, wielding a Bible and sermoning over a casket. Several caskets, strewn with burial banners with the names of the dead, some of which Special Polawski had known personally, some not. All were catholics, now united in death. The priest spoke with a voice that only a mournful, yet comforting father could compare, all the soldiers' eyes and ears paying attention. 

	Alexander had heard that prayer many times before, both before and then in his military life. He knew one of those guys in the caskets, a guy of Mexican descent and with a temperament that rivalled his own father. But he was friendly to those he cared about, helped Alexander catch up with the squad if falling behind stuck on his vegatation. And just like that, he was gone. The others Alexander didn't care too much about, but he? 

	"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant Pedro Gonzalvas…"

	…With raining pouring down on the funeral procession, the Chicago autumn weather only made the bural attendants all the more somber. The crowd was far from a large one, only amounting to ten-fifteen people at most, a limping young man in a military uniform standing at the front. A single casket was to be put in the ground, the catholic priest wielding a Bible and sermoning over the casket. With the sermon taking its course, Alexander Polawski couldn't take his eyes of the soon-to-be grave of his father. Not a day had passed since he stepped on American soil before he was told his father was dead. 

	He felt nothing, at least not anything powerful enough to overcome all the other feelings writhing inside him. It was an emptiness that rivalled the body of the man lying in the casket and the prospect of the world having anything resembling meaning. Empty and dark. War or not, it followed Alexander wherever he went. 

	"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant William Mathis Polawski…"

	…The wind blew the usual sea-salted air across the island, though failing to drown out the words spoken around the newly dug grave of their last dead. There were a handful of them, laid to rest in hand-made caskets by someone not trained in the craft, but they would have to do. None of them were of the clergy, so the prayer to the recently deceased should be spoken by the group of survivors most experienced man in this matter. Alexander couldn't do it.

	He stood staring at the casket to his wife, now dead and gone with the Florida wind that must be weeping alongside him. How could it not? This was the worst day of his life, and how it could keep on going after he could not fathom. He blocked out those thoughts, all the things penetrating his mind telling him all those terrible things. He couldn't. All he could do was to stand there and weep as their buried his wife and the others taken by the Undead. 

	"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant Judith Perkins Polawski…"
[/hider]

	They were leaving. Atticus told them their time was up and it was time to return to the bus. Alexander blinked the running tears from his eyes, wiping his cheeks and straightening up. Walking up to the bus with the others and lining up like the good grunt on a patrol he'd once been, his eyes drifted back to the gravstones dotting the landscape one last time. Nothing said, nothing done, only a brief look and a deep thought that stuck with him as he handed over the shotgun and satchel of shells to Bass. He didn't know how or when, if it was even possible, but one wish was growing brighter and stronger inside his heart as he entered the bus and sat down. 

	Could he bury her there, close to him? Would that be his redemption?


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[h3][color=B8860B][i][b]Nigel Cooper[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=B8860B]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Hydroponic Garden (T) -> Streets of CMB (N5)
[i][b][color=B8860B]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Atlas. Yeah, Nigel could grow accustomed to being called that as well, why not? Though with a saddened smile on her face, Nigel had perhaps helped drawn Thana out of her saddening vision and back to the realm of the living, if that was what she'd been thinking about. Nigel reciprocated the smile, feeling the pat on his own shoulder like a comforting reasurrance, one he hadn't gotten for a long time beside Erica. Giving her a nod, Nigel agreed and followed Thana back outside. [color=#B8860B]"Works for me. Let's go make the Roman annals proud."[/color] 

	Today had been, all things considered, a good day for Nigel. Besides the enjoyable company of Thana the Athenian, he'd gotten into a certain rhythm - one involving waking up in a comfortable bed, getting dressed in clean and non-tattered clothes, eating two meals so far and doing some important work for the new Magna Gracia colony. He was doing something meaningful, something normal. Again his mind wandered back to the interview and the Professor's question of "normalcy". He smiled to himself. This felt normal. Who knew how normal he'd feel if and when he'd get back into a classroom?

	Not to mention, as he though, he'd gotten a new friend. 

	Nigel followed Thana through the sun-baked streets of Camp Mexico, Apollo pearing down at the mortals hurrying through the heat on their own ways. While Thana went on to tell him more about the Bayou-people and a trade of people that didn't go well, Nigel listened casually while noting the groups of children passing by as well. Nigel had still not gotten used to seeing the younglings running about as carefree as before, and perhaps he never would after what happened in at Spartanburg. [color=#B8860B]"Must have been something serious considering how strict they've been with us. Not that I'm complaining, been fair so far."[/color] Nigel commented to Thana, following across the street and walking down the main street alongside her. Main street, down towards the Administration Building - the Conciliabulum he would call it. [color=#B8860B]"From the sound of it, you haven't been in dire need of more hands though? At least not when those younglings will grow up and take our place. I hope they'll be prepared for the world out there though…"[/color]