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"...No. I- no. I don't know many of these names. But some of them were islanders. Friends." It was hard to come up with words, and her head buzzed. Any other time, Emelyn would have rushed to comfort this newcomer- to tell them not to worry, that they would be enveloped and protected by this island 'family', and that even if he would go through his own transformations, what mattered in his humanity would remain. But right now, she was still in this nihilistic mourning for not only her friends, but for her own safety.

Emelyn had no living family, and death tainting the memory of the two people she had ever been closest to. Then, she had found herself on Fate's ill fortunes, upon the shores of this Hell Island. She'd found some brief happiness with those earliest friendships, and with the fleeting joys which had followed. But Ambrose had turned her away for his true love- The Dude had chosen Greer, and then, both those dear friends had disappeared. Moreau had betrayed her, and left her in the wild to fend on her own despite all his honeyed words that she would be favored... and then she had been preyed upon by her own friends as they transformed into terrible beasts of hunger and instinct. And now- Sean too, was dead- and her long absence from the village had been unacknowledged. As she knelt in the clearing facing the graves- the only one to come upon her was a boy... seeking help. It killed her a little inside to know that she was so alone. All she was... was a candle. Lighting the way for others, while consuming herself. What a vile little thing, bitter and sad, is a martyr. Despite the meaning of their martyrdom, so few of them are useful to anyone. Too many degenerate into something dark, and sad.

Billy's head was throbbing. The seditives were wearing off. He was sobering up. He could feel it, and subsiquently could feel everything else that he had been numbed of for weeks. "Le's... get out o' here. Where can I... leave y'notes?" He glanced sideways to Jamal and then flinched, gripping his head again with a grunt of pain. "Where's... a safe place?"

Jamal shrugged, unsure of a good answer to that question.
"s**t, I don't know. I'd say da waterfall, but I doubt dat's safe now...kin you rememba' where ya dumped me off by da river? That'll work...ain't no cameras there. Gonna have ta agree wit' dat guy," Jamal offhandedly indicated Sid. "Betta get outta herr. Both of yeh. I dunno if they'll hit ya up fo' talkin' ta me if they find out."

Newt sniffed, rubbing his nose. It seemed the other two had already gone down the path leaving him alone. "I... I'll... s-see you l-later th-then..." He gave an anxious croak befor turning to hop away dejectedly.

Jamal growled.

"Jus' put a note there at dat river spot...I gotta go. Ya got me all nervous now. I'll check da lake if I don't hear from ya. Or I'll track that guy down," he said, turning to indicate Sid. "Don't do nuthin' stupid 'til we can meet up someplace."

The tigerman gave the gathering space one last look over, briefly looking at the tombstones, before turning on a calloused heel and disappearing into the darkness.

Sid slowly wheeled Billy out of the clearing, trying to make up for the little bit of running he'd done earlier. It wasn't fair, he shouldn't have been able to feel a damn thing for hours... he knew he should have taken more pills, should have drank a bit more... he could fix that if he could just get back. He gave up on trying to keep his cane hooked over his arm and handed it back to Billy once they were out of the clearing.

If he kept telling himself he could make it, like a mantra, then surely he could... detouring around the skinned freakshow was going to make the trek back a bit longer, though.

Tommy saw everything in slow motion. The sidestep...the lunge...the rake of claws against flesh. He saw all of this and couldn't do a damn thing about it. There just wasn't enough time...he hadn't really expected the great lizard to attack an elderly man...the b*****d. Tommy just watches as Zach hits the dirt, giving the bat-man a clear view as blood blossoms out of the deep cuts on Richard's person.

This shocked him out of his momentary paralysis, "Richard! ********!" He rushes over to the old man's side, catching him and trying to hold him up from faceplanting into the cemetary's dirt with a grunt of effort. He attempts to lay the man down gently. "Goddamnit...C'mon Richard...you're going to be okay." And like clockwork his hands went into motion. So many times he had to go through and practice self-aid buddy care for training as at the Academy, it all seemed like an old habit when he finally had to put it into practice. Strips of cloth torn here...clensing of the wound via alcohol and whatever water he can find there...all the while trying to comfort Richard with idle talk. "Richard, can you hear me? That p***y-a** lizard scratched you up...c'mon you gotta stay awake and outta shock...stay awake, Richard."