Post Illumination -Open-

[Kalleyna Masters]

Kalleyna wasn't visiting anyone's grave site. She wasn't mourning some loved one lost to a terrible tragedy, or even possibly some illness. She wasn't coming to connect with someone long gone that she could never have back. She was simply taking a walk, looking at the old markers. Taking pictures of the scenery that could only have been in the movies.

It was twilight, Kalleyna had always loved twilight. There were just some things you could never do justice with a photograph and this was one of them. Twilight in an old cemetery, gazing at the headstones of families she had no tie too. No long winded stories about Uncle Ezra and Aunt Ester, no heart wrenching tales about Great Uncle Johnny dieing before his time in the war. She had none of those things, not for this place.

And not for any other.

She squatted down and read the name on the stone. It was the same as hers, Masters. But her last name was common and she wasn't related to any of the Masters she had ever met anywhere. Her delicate and often times cold fingers brushed along the rough etching in the stone.

Here Lies
Abigale Sarah Masters
Born June 15 1854
Died September 5 1871

A small smile curved at Kallayna's lips and a small tug at her heart, poor girl. Had still been a girl. Nearly twenty years old. Like her.

[Ryland Abbott]

There were a lot of things Ryland did that no one quite understood, which he didn't mind at all. If he were just like everyone else, he probably would have killed himself and claimed insanity in a note. In his eyes, there was no other person to be but himself, and he stuck to that. Even when it lead him to the graveyard for the day, just to spend time with a few people who in his opinion, were the only sane ones left. Yeah, they were all dead. Imagine what that said about everyone else he hung out with.

He'd spent an hour or so laying on the grass of someone he'd never known, personally. Their grave told him that she was a 37 year old woman, who was loved under the name Sally Ann Kuwik. As he lay there and stare up into the sky, he animated what he thought her life was like in the span of years that stretched in between 1922 and 1959. He imagined her as a brunette who was fun loving and into good jazz. She probably exclaimed 'That was the bees knees!' whenever she felt enthused, and loved her husband dearly.

To his left, he heard the softest sound of footprints leading away to a further grave. Sitting himself up on his elbows, Ryland turned his head to find the back of a brunette woman, sitting at another grave. For a moment he caught a glimpse of the side of her face, and he was able to recognize immediately who it was. Smiling to himself, he silently stood himself up, before sneaking over to where she sat.

Kneeling down behind her, he peaked over her shoulder. The grave was a resting place for a young girl, someone who hadn't even lived within the same century. He knew there was hardly any harm in bothering her, because she had just moved here, and there was absolutely no way she could have known the person. Placing his hands gently over her eyes, Ryland continued to smile before he spoke up. "Guess who?"

Yes, it was a queer game to play in a cemetary. But Ryland was friendly in every circumstance he knew was safe.

[Kalleyna Masters]

Luckily for him Kalleyna recognized the voice before she'd thought to start swinging. "Sounds to nice to be the reaper come for me.." She couldn't really help it, she liked Ryland. He had a charm about him she found she liked. When normally she'd probably have dismissed him. She had a hard time forging attachments to people, for the main reason being she never knew when her father would suddenly pick up and move again.

She moved his hands and looked at him over her shoulder, warm brown eyes considering him. Whatever walls she had, was because she was afraid. It was the honest truth that people just perceived as abrasiveness or blatant hostility. But, he'd complimented her photos and been genuinely nice to her. She could give him the same courtesy.

"What brings you out to the resting places of the long forgotten?"

[Ryland Abbott]

A quiet laugh escaped his lips as he retrieved his hands from her face. Moving his body so that he lay on the grass next to the grave she sat before, Ryland watched her as he spoke. "What are you kidding? I'm sure Grim would be after you in a heartbeat. You're pretty and talented. Plus, you've got the capabilities with a camera to give him a whole new image. You'd make death look sexy through a lens."

For some reason, Ryland felt intrigued by the girl he was now sharing a grave with. There was an intelligence and depth with her that he hadn't come across with anyone else in the school, probably because her wise nature was also tainted with that of sorrowed experience. She seemed like the girl who remained very reserved and protected, and he was going to make it his goal this year to get her to live a little. He'd never force her into something she didn't want, only the things she didn't know she wanted. If that made any sense. Ryland was good at going about opening people up in a way that wasn't pesky, or annoying. He was caring, gentle, and whenever it was needed-- a good listener. He intended to be the same for her.

"I actually come out here a lot. Yup, me and the dead are pretty much BFF's." Plucking a piece of grass from the ground beside his body, Ryland held it just above his stomach as he began to twist and play with it. There were a lot of mannerisms that were still very boyish, despite how wise and mature he was. A half smile conquered his lips as he finally gave into explaining himself and his intentions sincerely. "Nah. It gives me time to think. I lay out on the graves and imagine what their lives were like." A laugh interrupted him as he allowed his eyes to roll back, before he continued. "It's kind of weird, I know. But it's the only time anything feels honest." And then he paused, his eyes glazing over as he continued to think.

"Besides, if you've ever listened to the breeze in the graveyard, you'll notice how it differs from anywhere else in the world." His mind then shifted from every subject that had to do with the graveyard, to an old trick his mother had taught him. They used to place a blade of grass in between their two thumbs, and blow into the slight, sharp oval of a hole they created when combined. It made a strange sound, one that had always made him laugh as a kid. Eventually he nicknamed it the call of the hippies.

"What about you? What are you doing out here, of all places?"

[Kalleyna Masters]

She couldn't help but grin at that, "Or he could give me a lens that would steal someone's soul.." She was flattered, she knew she was talented, she'd been told that back when she'd lived in Seattle. It was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Take photographs of how she saw the world.

He was something else, not many people would lay on the grass in a cemetery and play like a small boy. It was kind of refreshing to meet someone comfortable enough in their own skin to indulge in such things. She liked it. Her chilly fingers ran over the stone once more, outlining the name again.

"There are graveyards all over the country and each one is just a little bit different. Some are big standing monuments to the dead while others are these cheap plots of ground to stick bodies in." She smirked just a bit, yes, morbid much? Not really, she just found them intriguing. The older the better. "The more east you get the older they get... I grew up in Seattle so when we moved across the country the first time, my Dad took me to the graveyard in each major city we went threw to look at the markers.. makes for some great photos."

That was it, she did things like this with her father. Always had. Broddy Masters found these things intriguing. "Dad always wanted to know the stories behind the dead. The monuments, why they had Angels watching over them. With the big monuments he was always curious about what would warrant such a monument. I guess I inherited that."

She looked out across the graveyard, it was an older one. Probably back from before the town was even settled. It was like something out of an old movie, the sweeping trees and rod iron gates separating some of the rich of the town from the poorer. She could hear that breeze he talked about, because it did differ just a bit.

Kalleyna moved to a sitting position and leaned back on her hands. "Every town has a story, and the smaller ones think theirs is as important as the shot heard round the world.. even so. The graveyards, they all tell the same story. Either fear death, or celebrate life.."

[Ryland Abbott]

Ryland smiled at her comment about a photograph stealing someone's soul. "Ah. A lens after the fears of an Aboriginal's heart." A tribe in Australia believed firmly that a photograph entrapped part of their soul for an eternity, it was another aspect of photography he found fascinating. He had also heard something about the Masai tribe in Africa, who shared similar beliefs to that. Most people assumed it was the Amish that believed a photograph stole their soul, but they were wrong. The only reason the Amish didn't really like getting their photo taken, was because it was considered prideful-- and thus a sin. He assumed Kalleyna knew of the belief, she was a smart girl, so he harboured no doubts.

Rather than have any sort of sarcastic input, Ryland listened as Kalleyna explained the kind of pseudo tradition/mutual interests she held with her dad. To him, she was different. Different in a way that was entirely refreshing, and he was genuinely glad she had moved to their beloved little town. What she had to say about her childhood was profound, and he respected the fact that she had reached out even in the slightest, by explaining it to him. People always had a choice, and for one of those decisions, she decided to reveal a secret. That was something Ryland knew never to take advantage of.

It wasn't that he had dark secrets he wanted to keep from her, but he just couldn't think of anything he wanted to explain in that moment, in order to be fair. Moving himself so that he was sitting at her side, Ryland plucked a new blade of grass and placed it gently between his fingers, before tightening it straight in between that hole of his combined thumbs. Continuing to smile that contagious smile, he spoke softly, as if he were sharing a secret. "My mom used to do this with me. She was kind of a crazy hippie, I guess I am too in my own ways. But.. they would have these parties, and.." A gentle laugh escaped his lips as his mind raced back to each separate memory, where he used the tool he was on the verge of fully explaining. "In order to find eachother, we made this weird, natural whistle. You just blow into it, and it makes this weirdass noise."

Pulling his hands away from her face, Ryland kept them pressed together by his thumbs and brought the makeshift hole to his lips. The sound that was produced as he blew against it, was something like a furious balloon, whenever someone decided to let the air out of it. Not that low sound, the squealing sound whenever anyone stretched the hole at the top of the balloon. The sound he always referred to as a retarded free willy, when he wasn't old enough to care about what was politically correct.

Another boyish smile conquered his features as he pulled his hands away, then tossed the grass aside. He wouldn't allow her to miss out on this natural sound revelation. She was doing the whistle whether she liked it, or not. "Try it. Because you know I won't let you leave without trying it." Plucking another blade of grass, Ryland held it out to her.

[Kalleyna Masters]

She listened to him, chocolate eyes watching before she raised a slow brow. He was right, she did know he wouldn't leave her alone until he did. She watched his face a moment longer before she took the blade of grass and studied it for a moment. Her brother, could have done this easily. She rolled it between her fingers and blew, she laughed when the sound wasn't anywhere near dignified.

She smiled, a real bright smile and shook her head at him. "My brother would love that... he's terrible.." And gone. Back to their mother. Her eyes saddened just a bit and she shrugged. "You always live in this town?"

[Ryland Abbott]

"Well I'll keep that in mind when I want to hit on your brother." No, that didn't mean he was trying to hit on her with a piece of grass. Ryland couldn't help but notice that shortly after her burst of laughter, a very subtle note of sadness subsided in her eyes. Even the greatest of liars had a hard time keeping the truth from their eyes, it was a skill he had to learn early on. There was obviously some sort of brother issue, or at the very least a family issue. He wouldn't pry, because that would have been rude. When she was ready to talk about it, he knew she would. Or at least, he hoped she would.

"Not always. I moved here when I was really young.. with my mom. She's.. a bit of a free spirit. I guess that's where I get it from." Shrugging his shoulders up, he brought his knees up and rested his arms upon them. They stretched out before him as his fingers busied themselves with a small dandilion he found in the grass. He hadn't pulled it from the ground, but rather found it dead as the result of freshly cut grass. It might have been insignificant, but he never pulled anything pretty from the ground. No matter how present they were.

"We used to live in this.. very Scooby Doo without the writing kind of van. We traveled around the country, and ended up here somehow. She's a great woman, and she'd probably really like to meet you. I think you two would probably vibe well." A much softer smile graced Ryland's lips as he brought his attention back to Kalleyna. His mother was very liberal with his upbringing, allowing him to experiment and go his own way. Hell, she didn't even mind when she had found out he smoked pot. Actually, she was all for it.

"Sometimes she can be a little too abstract though, and you really have to take it in small doses." A laugh trailed his statement as he brought his attention back to the stone that lay before the both of them.

[Kalleyna Masters]

She watched him talk about his mother and Kalleyna couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips. She brushed her hair from her face and sighed a bit, "My dad, he's pretty abstract himself. He's a writer.. so he could stay home and take care of my brother Draven and I. My mom was never really around,actually she was never around. I think I saw her maybe once a day and she was always blazing out the door. Her clients were always more important."

Her eyes dropped to the grave stone and she leaned back farther, propping up on her elbows. "Daddy's got wanderlust I guess. When he and Mom got divorced a couple years ago all Dad wanted to do was travel around and see everything, live everywhere." She shrugged. "Helps with his writing I guess..." She looked over at him once again, mocha brown eyes considering him.

"It's kind of funny," she said with a soft smile. "People think I'm mean.. I just.. learned to deal with being the new girl in school.."