Familiar Faces [JOHN]

[Andrea Mitchell]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1058.photobucket.com/albums/t417/dustinthewindspn/Andrea/AndreaPostTemp.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable][style=border: 2px solid #384214; background: #fdf1f3; opacity: 0.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55); font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Grande", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color: #0c1000; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #f8e8eb; margin: 11px; padding: 5px 20px; width: 280px; height: 525px; overflow-y: auto;] !--- Lafayette Cemetery Number 1. Reputed to be one of the most haunted cemeteries in the world. It's location? Nestled right in her own backyard of the Garden District in New Orleans, it sits at Washington and Prytania. Even in the daylight hours such as it was the place had a feeling of energy to it, as if one could feel the spirits of those not at rest. As funeral director she was in the First line of the procession as it took it's twists and turns through the streets to the cemetery. Many forgot the original purpose of this tradition, when it was believed that the dead could rise again and they wanted to confuse the corpse and disorient it to prevent it from returning to it's home. Little did most know today that this wasn't as much of a superstition as they thought. The dead had risen more than once and been put back down, salt and flames cleansing it. When she'd taken over as director salting the body was done just before the procession began. It wasn't fool proof but it was a good start in the event of trouble arising. With her fringed black parasol in her black gloved hand and the delicate lace of her black hat pulled down to partially cover her eyes she looked at the faces of those that walked along with her, looking for any signs of anything out of the norm. The dirge to the cemetery was always a solemn tune, one of sorrow and woe. The Second Line that followed behind the band and the prominent members of the procession wailed and called out their sorrow loudly. It was a time honored tradition, releasing the feelings of despair at their loved one's passing instead of stoically holding that grief inside, purging oneself of those emotions. Some might have seen it as disrespectful but in good ole NOLA it was expected. Once the graveside services were completed and the body placed in the tomb the return procession would change. The Second Line would become a party, rejoicing and celebrating the life of the person that had just passed. The band would break into an upbeat jazz rendition of When the Saints Go Marching In and the celebration would continue through the streets with stops to the deceased's home as well as many bars and pubs along the way where the patrons took part in the celebration of life and drinks were had freely. Oh yes, if there was one thing a New Orleanians knew it was how to throw a funeral. She paused off to the side as they made it to the family crypt, stepping away as the minister gave his last sermon to the dead and words of comfort to the living. It was a thing she had witnessed a million times in her lifetime. Standing in the shade of the ancient oak tree that's limbs spread out over her like a protective guardian her pale blue eyes scanned through the crowd again, taking in the mourners and their attire. Funerals were a big to-do and people came in their best. Usually many lovely things to be seen there. But as her eyes continued to scan they fell on what she was sure had to be a ghost, her heart even stuttering a bit in her chest as cold dread clutched at her insides. He was off to the edges, not a part of the service at all. The same deceptively casual stance with hands tucked halfway into the pockets of his jeans. The same scruff on his jaw. It was impossible. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise even as she managed to keep her composure, but those that knew her well enough would be able to spot that reaction as her already pale skin against all that black she wore looked even paler. Reaching up slowly she lowered her dark sunglasses as she stared across the sea of faces at him. This was simply...impossible. ---! [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Lafayette Cemetery Number 1, New Orleans Outfit:Here Music:Just a Closer Walk With Thee Notes: