RP:Funeral Obligations

Synopsis: Jaxson has some final business to take care of in the wake of his lost kin. Joan provides assistance with the necessary arrangements.

Chapel of Rest, Cenril

Around this room are various examples of coffins that are available to buy here for your recently departed. Towards the back right of the room are examples of grave markers. In the middle of the back wall there is a glass counter, behind which a tall man in a black suit is dressed. He has a calm quiet manner about him, and a comforting smile on his face. On the counter are several lists, giving the prices of the coffins and markers. To the left of the counter there is a dark wooden door, which a bronze plaque upon it. As you look closer it says clearly upon it 'Chapel of Rest'. This must be where the bodies of the recently deceased are kept for their loved ones to visit them until they are buried.

Joan stood next to tall man, Joan only being a fuaneral attendant till the main director spoke with Bradyn. Still they trusted and allowed Joan to keep the records of all recently deceased, these records she would hand over to the county clerk for them to file with the town. This evening the vampiric healer was busy writing into the large black leather tome today's numbers, names and other important info.

Jaxson Ravencroft traveled down the dimly lit streets of Cenril alone this night, his duster whipping about his lean yet muscular frame as the oceanic breeze as he continues on his path towards the intended destination. He has been putting this off since the funeral, the wizard wanting to bury the entire ordeal and not just his parents. But procedure is procedure and there is -always- paper work, pretty sure hell itself has some quill scribbling demon waiting to recount all your sins in life, making you sign 'Here, here aaaaand here.' He could almost visualize the mottled face of the imp twisted in devilish glee at making you go over such trivial tasks. His hand rises up to bring the last remaining quarter of his clove cigarette to his lips, a final deep drag taken as the magi mentally prepares himself as he nears the entrance to the funeral parlor. "Swear I should have people for shyte like this.." Mutters the former war-mage in a tone he is sure only he'd hear himself. Then, as he exhales a billowing cloud of smoke and the fog that comes from your breath due to the cold air, the sweet smell of the clove almost a bit more intense when coupled with the crisp, damn well frigid, night air. Alright, lets do this then. And with that, the man enters the parlor, his gaze sweeping about to see if he can find out where it is he needs to go, and whom he'd need to see to settle this affair tonight.

Joan looked up from her neat hand writing, the quill lifts up off the current place on the page where she had been writing as the tall man next to her called out a pleasant "Good evening, welcome to Cenril's Funeral Parlour and Chapel of Rest, how can we help you this evening." Joan offers a nice polite small smile, taking care to not flash any tint of fang, as a well people here in town were not completely at ease with a vampire working with the dead. It might not help that she was also a necromancer, but what the public didn't know wouldn't hurt them. She'd dip her quill back in the small inkwell next to her as she stood up to her full height next to the tall human funeral director, her fingers comb back into her pixie do, the amethyst color clearly marking her as 'other' but for her it was natural and normal. "Yes, welcome!" She greeting came as she eyes the young fellow in a curious manner. 

Jaxson is looking at the display of tombstones and grave markers, with prices laid out in a manner that doesn't paint the establishment as a business over a place that you put loved ones to rest and so far they have nailed that balance well enough. You almost feel the mourning in the air, and the understanding and professionalism the staff seems to have creates an environment that is all its own. So much so he is clearly reminded why he is here, and he exhales a deep breath before he'd move from the door and towards the tall fellow in the suit, as well as the woman with the pixie cut. A nod to her, then to the man who took the lead he says. "Ravencrofts, Carmella and Robert." he hasn't said their names out loud in a while, it tugs at emotions he'll drown in a bottle later. He clears his throat, a moment taken to beat those rising emotion back into the chest he buried them in. "I'm their son. Here for the paperwork." He places his right hand on the surface nearby, strumming his fingers as he internally strangles his feeling, the internal war raging, scratching dangerously close to the surface but he is a good actor. A quick smile and another deep breath and he is back in proper form. A charming smile given to the attendant as he motions towards her hair. "Love the do."

Joan took up the paperwork, her orbs moving swiftly over the pages as she checked them over, nodding up to the funeral director to let him know it was all in order, the tall man clasp his hands together before him as he gives the youth a sorrowful glance as his tone of voice takes on the kind quite manner as he ask the mage a few questions about casket selections and headstone choices, if there was any special request on how to handle the bodies, with clothes, dressing, jewelry, etc. Joan would mark down the provided information in another tome she pulled out from under a counter as she listened, a polite nod given to the youth about the comment on her hair, she was sure she met the youth at the duel a few days before, but right now, she was marking down everything he wanted and agreed with, funeral director making a gesture to the choices they had available.

Jaxson recites off the exact orders and procedures in which the bodies of his parents, and well -all- Ravencrofts, were to be handled when this day came. Damn well near a small fortune in of itself had been used to build a family crypt, the likes of which are on the grounds of the Ravencroft manor. The bodies would of course be garbed in the finest of attire, with key items from life going into the tomb they had assigned to them. The details of the whole affair were etched into his memory like most everything he had to learn to be a "proper" Ravencroft. While most children only had to endure a few hours of school, Jax's entire childhood felt more like a military academy. Drills on family history, artifacts and the proper hierarchy he was told was the "back bone" of the family made his official transition into the -actual- military at the young age of seventeen just that much easier. Of course he had been made an officer, as no Ravencroft boy would ever be lowly foot soldier. Ah, the sweet memories of youth. Minutes were taken, allowing the pair to ensure they understood the incredibly detailed instructions, offering them looks of 'I know my family is extra, please don't hate me'. After that's handled, he'd make sure to mention. "They, of course, had arranged for a horse and wagon to carry the remains, where a team with take the coffins to the tomb." He still hated this whole ordeal, but being the only child meant there was no one else. Least, no one else that was direct family.

Joan quickly wrote down all the extra details the young mage asked and required, as the funeral director nodded as the youth rattled on. the Chapel was use to dealing with nobles passing, having been established in the town since almost after it's founding. They were the most respected in town. Joan would press her icy pale lips together and she finished in the other leather bound book. She quoted a price to the black suited director making sure he agreed with her total before he turned back to Jaxson. "Hm, yes it is going pricey. But family is worth it, yes?" He asked before moving towards the back door to speak with his business associate about their newest customer. Leaving Joan to deal with Jaxson, she'd offer up the tome she had been writing in towards the youth, his signature required. 

Jaxson knew that price was no object when it came to his family. While nice most of the time, people always just assume his life was this kosher joyride of privilege. It wasn't. It's part of the reason he left, and even after his parents passing he had to deal with an even worse force of nature he had hoped was already in the mausoleum by now. His grandmother. The reigning matriarch, now "Queen Mother" of the Ravencroft estate. Not being married meant the odd family dynamic, laws damn well enough, demanded that unless Jaxson fully claimed full ownership of his parent's estate that, Margaret, his grandmother, had just as much (if not more) control. His family was more like a business, or some ancient dynasty, than what he'd imagined a "normal" family was. But hey, least they were filthy rich, aye? "Yeah, almost forgot." He takes the offered quill, dips it in the inkwell and scribbles his name (surprisingly fluid and smooth) and says. "That it, then?"

Joan nodded, mummered the polite and sorrow filled lines that normally followed along these things, her smile soft while she got out the rubber stamp they used to stamp official paperwork, she inks the stamp then pressed it onto Jaxson' paperwork, she then offers the paperwork back, along with the paperwork with the inventory and price listed that he agreed to pay. More official paperwork would follow, but for now everything needed for tonight was done. Joan would then offer some herbal tea with cookies if Jaxson felt like partaking. Should he refuse she'd offer to show him out and thank him for his business.

Jaxson is glad that is done, as the sheer weight of feeling obligated to do it all only added to the weight, he already felt due to his parent's passing. Then comes the offered tea and cookies and he'd politely decline, he already had a date with a special bottle of bourbon. At least, among the seemingly endless duties, his father had left him quite a liquor collection. He has been putting that to use recently. "Thanks. You have a good one." He'd say, before he'd head on back out, the chill of the night air, smelling like the sea, greets him instantly. He pulls his his coat about him once more, then takes out another cig and lights it before he'd venture down Cenril's streets once more.