Just a question;; [open]

[Delilah The Undomable]

She moved slowly her fingers brushing against the cool brass of the sculpture. She walked around it, fingers always gently gliding over the surface. It was all smooth, and then her fingers hit the engraved words. Shaking her head she took a step away from the work. When she shook her head her candy-apple red hair managed to loosen a little from their already messy pig tails. Patting her head she pulled the elastics a little tighter with her long artist fingers.

Dressed today in a what seemed to be a black tank top once upon a time, and plaid short shorts with black suspenders handing to her knees she looked much different then your average teenager. Or did she? Her eyes shot up from there they were trainer on her black vans to the work of art itself. She took a step to the side, thinking about what it meant. I mean she knew what it was meant to be, she had read the school's history on those long boring days what it rained. She knew about the murders. But maybe there was something more in this brass junk. No? Yes? Maybe?

She turned and found a bench and sat. Next to her was a case. It belonged to her electric violin. On the ground was a small amp. She wondered if she should play or what. Well she was here. So Why not. She opened the case with graceful easy and plugged her violin to her amp, and turned it on low. Pulling her bow to the strings she tuned quickly. Her song of choice started with a simple pull across the strings, a mournful sound sprang forth. A few trills here and there but really quite mournful. All long strokes of her bow against the string. The notes climbing higher and higher. Suddenly the music picked up and little easy changes unfolded in a melody climbing upward, then slowly back down. Now the music worked quickly in the same manner. All beautifully written. Now she worked even faster with a pace quick and nimble over the strings. A rest and then one quick pull against the strings. She flowed to the music, a small smile pulling through her lips. Now quickly she went. Her fingers a moving blur and her elbow working hard to more the bow. A rest and then gentle pulls against one sting, and the music climbed again. Then back to the first movement she went. Not even half finished La Folia she paused to see if any one was around, nope no one, and she went on with the beautiful music.

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[Seth Hoffman]

"Greenfield is so much quieter than New York, Seth. It's a lot safer, and you'll get a better education."

Three and a half years ago, that was his mom's sales pitch for the move. In the face of the memorial, and the shockwaves of the latest crimes - her words seemed sort of hollow. An ironic smile twisted Seth's lips as he shoved his chem book into the black backpack - he usually hung around the park to do the majority of his reading. It wasn't crowded, and it was usually quiet. Most days. Today, though, there was music. Not blaring rock ballads, but a single violin with a strong, somber pull to the strings. It was distracting, but it was intriguing, and Seth slung his bag over one shoulder and followed the sound. The closer he became to the monument, the more it demanded his attention. Seth crossed his arms over a plain black and grey striped t-shirt. Jeans torn at the knees and tennis shoes were the only additions, but Seth wasn't looking at his clothes, he was looking up. At the monument. Had he thought about it? The murders? Of course. Who hadn't?

There was a sequence. Somewhere. Seth was sure of it. The recent murders had resurrected an interest in the school's history for some, while it made others reconsider the consequences of living in a town like this. If they hadn't solved the murders thirty something years ago, how could anyone know if law enforcement was any more competent today? It wasn't really fair, in Seth's opinion, to say that. Back then, even if there had been footprints, fingerprints, defensive wounds - the victims could have had DNA from their attackers under their fingernails. It could have been linked to the killer, if the killer was in the database. But DNA testing wasn't popular until the 80s, and they really had no suspects to begin with. They just didn't have the resources to question the entire town. And even if they exhumed the bodies now, the DNA would be tainted. Nearly forty years? Yeah.

There had to be a connection between the students.

"But the only people who can answer that..." he mused aloud, under his breath. He was staring at the only piece of evidence the victims could give. A.K.A. nothing. Seth idly stepped around the monument, and paused some feet away from the musician. She wasn't what he'd expected. Bright red hair and plaid shorts; did she go to the school? He might have seen her once or twice, but he didn't know her name.

"You're really very good," he said finally, reluctant to interrupt the music - skilled violinists could make the instrument sound as if it was crying, and this girl was talented. "Do you take lessons? An orchestra, maybe?"

[Delilah The Undomable]

o.o.c : this is going to be crap, fyi.

b.i.c : She turned, catching sight of her red hair as she turned quickly. In her view caught a boy. Has he complimented her playing? She merely gave him a very dry smile. His question. She thought quickly, and with her very dry humor fed him a line slowly.
” Haven’t you heard of hardcore rock. Violins are in on it now. The pure sound or heavy rock was killing too many people.” leaving these words hanging around her she uttered a dry little chuckle, barely audible.

She took up the thing once more, and pulled it across the strings starting in a mournful low note and ending in a hissing high note, her fingers vibrating far from the violin’s slender neck. Then she shrugged. ”I took a few once.” she then said with a crooked smirk. Few would have been an understatement.

Her eyes pasted the boy once more. Looking over the objects of brass. She uttered a low hum. Maybe musing over the work once more. Maybe? Maybe wondering what drew to the boy to it. Had he been drawn by the mystery of the whole thing? She had. She wanted to know everything. But yet—she knew nothing. Funny how things work like that.

o.o.c : whoa. That sucked.

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