Tending the dead (OTA)

[foulnfair]

There was something fitting about tending the cemetery for the likes of Macbeth. The Scot felt at home amongst the dead. He pulled weeds, righted older stones, worked to ensure the food for worms were given something like respect. Yes, Banquo's stone was still there, taunting him, haunting him, but how much he missed his wife burrowed into his

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[mntlpatientwgun]

Jenny was taking the long way back to the hotel after leaving her 'new' business at the Electronic Repair Shop. It still irritated her that the village presumed to give her a shop, but on the bright side, it allowed her to use her hacking skills unnoticed and find out information.

As she turned up the block she noticed Macbeth in the church graveyard. A part of her was going to ignore him and keep walking by but curiosity drove her forward. There were many hours that she'd spent in graveyards. Only he looked like he was working and not researching.

[foulnfair]

Feeling eyes on him as if fingers, Macbeth turned, arching a brow at Jenny. He respected her, he admitted to herself, for owning up to being wrong about the village. Her company was not entirely unpleasant. "Come you to visit the dead?"

[mntlpatientwgun]

Jenny walked to the entrance of the graveyard and paused, "not really. I saw you and thought I'd see what you were doing. I've spent a lot of time in a few though."

[foulnfair]

"This is my work," he answered, sitting back on his haunches. "It allows me to feed myself in this place." And to buy ale.

[mzmistoffelees]

Sorry! I couldn't resist!

A small black cat made its way around the tombstones, reading what they said, but no one would know that. She spotted the worker and made a leap from the top of one tombstone to another nearby. She just perched there and watched.

[foulnfair]

(whyfore doth thou apologize? Heee!)

Tossing another handful of weeds to the pile, Macbeth caught sight of the animal and frowned. "Shoo," he hissed. "Begone."

[mzmistoffelees]

If a cat could smile, that's what she'd be doing. At least it wasn't a cat about to pounce on a mouse smile. Yet. Her tail just flicked lazily and she stayed where she was on the tombstone, watching.

[foulnfair]

Graveyards needed no more bad humours like black cats. Macbeth jabbed at the air between them with his hand rake, hissing again.