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Father Higgins had never met the family that the service was for. From the information he had been given, he highly doubted that any of them were religious. But this was part and parcel of being a priest, and he had a very somber look on his face as he greeted the people entering the cathedral.

"Chris is really torn up about this," Tyler Deakon said as he came in, shaking Pete's hand. "Thanks for doing this for us."

"It's my duty as God's follower," Pete said. "So you knew this family?"

"Briefly," Tyler said. His expression went blank with that statement, a sure sign that the ex-military officer wasn't saying what he was thinking. He moved, allowing Missy to take his place. She was crying, dabbing at her tears with a hanky. Her hand was held firmly by Christian, who was, for the first time since Pete had met him, wearing a suit.

"Is Harper not coming back?" the little boy asked.

"I'm afraid not, son," Pete said. "But he's gone to another place." The boy nodded and the trio headed in to be seated in one of the pews.

Shortly behind the others was a tall man clad modestly in a full black suit, the smaller, brighter girl dressed in a knee-length black dress with a small coat. Jahzara occassionally bubbled broken whimpers, to which Brad could only give her a squeeze and a sympathetic gaze. He didn't know what to say. Sure, he'd seen the boy and his girl play in the park the one time, but there'd been no names exchanged between the youth and the man. He was doing this for her, of course, and he was at the church for her sake.

The cheetah spotted girl was miserable. Her memory of Harper was brief and sweet, a silly boy who was so full of life and mischief that it was hard to believe it was all contained in one body. His antics with Antony would be hard to forget. She stood tall despite her slouching shoulders, one hand grasping her father's, the other gripping a fresh kleenex. Candy tangerine eyes were full of unshed tears, although her marked face was already streaked with the trail of tears fallen. It wasn't fair. He was so young and had so many smiles...

Brad released his daughter's hand and put his hand over her shoulders as she was taken by fresh whimpering sobs. He gave her a squeeze and gently pet her pig-tailed head. "Remember the--"

"G-goodness, I kn-know," the girl sniffled, wiping her eyes callously with the back of her hand. She knew, but it didn't make it any easier.

They, too, joined those gathered at the pews, adding the solemn procession.

Death hung over Antony's shoulder as the boy walked into the cathedral. He ignored the "spirit" taking a moment to shake the priest's hand and continue on into the room almost numbly. Shade slipped into the pew next to the silent boy, sitting there with his elbows on his knees for a long moment before speaking.

"You alright?" he finally asked.

"I'm fine," Antony said emotionlessly. "He was an irritation."

Ignacio's face was turned downwards, his expression unreadable and strange. Devon had tried to get the boy to talk (or even just make an expression) but the most he had earned was a "I'm fine" which was clearly untrue. He watched his son walk right past the priest without stopping and head for the coffins up front. Pausing, Devon shook Father Higgins' hand. "Thanks," he muttered. Then he followed Ignacio down the aisle.

Ignacio stood at the coffins for a very long time, staring. He half-reached out to touch the closed casket but pulled back at the last moment with a low noise. He wanted to open it. Harper couldn't really be in there. It was some kind of really sick joke, right? He looked at the pictures and bit his lower lip hard. Suddenly angry, he growled under his breath and stomped to the front pew. While Devon took a seat in the pew behind, Ignacio sat beside Manuela and scowled at the floor, eyes red. He rubbed his hands together, fidgeting.

Pete smiled at her. He would have liked it if he could have planned it in, but again, this was a bit of an abrupt memorial. "Of course you can, sweetie. Why don't you take a seat on the front pew and you can sing after everyone has arrived so they can all hear it?" he asked gently.

He couldn't believe it.

Clad in black formalwear he stood in the back, the hand of his captain on his shoulder. He had asked Katrina to come with him, because he couldn't do it. Not on his own. There was no way. Biting his lip so hard it was in danger of bleeding into his mouth, he stared blankly at the seats, remaining standing in a seafaring man's own payment of respect.

"He was th'first person I met," Melchizedek murmured. "He was...h'was m'good friend. M'mate."

Shaking from tip to tail, he opened his mouth wide in something like a yawn and made a low yowling noise, looking up at Katrina, who was watching the altar solemnly, expression wiped of anything. The Captain was in full formalwear, the only way to present for a service, and while violet seemed unorthodox for funeral services, Melchy didn't think Harper would mind. Eliot would, but...

"Cap'n," he murmured, shaking loose from Katrina. "I gotta go up, kay?" he asked in a low voice. Katrina nodded and clasped her hands in front of her, still watching with head slightly bowed, hat absent for the time-being. She did pay the Sinclairs that respect.

Melchy approached the coffins, expressionless for a moment, and then did something unprecedented. Unbuckling the scabbard belt from around his waist, he laid the knife on the coffin and bowed low, crossing one arm over his chest.

"Here's to finger-paints, band practices, and first street-fights," he said in a low voice. "Fair winds and following seas, mate."

Turning from the coffins, eyes rimmed in red, he looked for someone he knew and settled on Christian. Approaching somberly, he gave another short bow to the altar and stepped into the same pew, looking at Chris but saying nothing. This was too much to deal with.

She barely knew him; she had only met him once. She had no stories to share or memories that would last a life-time; her life had never been impacted by him. In fact, she hadn't even known his name until she had heard the news of his death. In Keres' life, Harper had been a mere acquaintance -- a funny and odd acquaintance, but an acquaintance none-the-less. So why was the sphinx-child standing alone in the church's entry way, void of all her shiny jewelry but a single gold bangle, and clad in black? Even she couldn't say.

She hadn't planned on going, and in all honesty she hadn't even wanted to in the beginning. And as she gazed around at the stained-glass windows and the memorials set up in the front, combined with the smell of candles and the heavy weight in the air, her beliefs on the matter were only silently strengthened; these types of services were for those who knew the deceased, not just for everyone, despite what any announcements had said. She honestly didn't belong here.

Coming to that decision, Keres gave a hushed sigh and finally seemed to take notice of what was going on around her. She flicked her eyes ahead once more and noted the backs of heads that belonged to a couple people she knew -- Mel and Chris. She also noted that the priest had already started to move forward, and her plan of quickly leaving her three flowers suddenly flopped. Even a child such as Keres wasn't going to walk down the isle now and then walk right out with everyone watching.

Keres bit her lower lip. She didn't want to stay for the whole thing -- wasn't her place to. Quickly glancing to the sides of her, her wings suddenly gave an involuntary flutter as she noticed Melchy's guardian just some feet away. Could she...?

"Mel's guardian?" Keres suddenly asked in a whisper as she tapped the woman on the arm. She hadn't really... learned what the woman's name was -- and if she had been told, she obviously had forgotten --, but hoped she'd recognize her anyways.

Riley stormed into the chapel like a whirlwind. While the clatter of her boots against the floor wasn't loud under normal circumstances, here in a solemn church they mirrored gongs. But it seemed Riley was bent on not conforming to the normal mood. Her fists were held tightly and her dart skirts whipped around her legs almost as if she were kicking them with each step. Never had she been more furious. How dare he go and die?!

She couldn't help but see him there, laughing at all of them in their monkey suits. She knew her dress and black ribbons would have gotten quite a hoot. "They're in respect for your death, you p***k," she grumbled viciously under her voice that was too quiet for others to discern. If she wasn't already dead she'd kill him.

As she finally came to stand before the casket her body was quivering. She glared at the box so intently that it wouldn't have been surprising if the thing caught on fire or slunk away to hide. Had Harper been alive and receiving that glare anyone would have thought they were bitter enemies. She said nothing, only ground her teeth before pivoting sharply and jerking into a seat far down the row away from everyone.

Victor and Kai had come to attend the funeral as well, for support. They followed a bit behind Riley, giving her space, and when she passed others they made solemn, apologetic gestures if their grieving had been unsettled. They didn't stop her, even if her attitude was inappropriate. They knew everyone grieved differently. This was just her way of showing it.