𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎

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1797

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1797

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The death of John B and Sarah took a toll on everyone, most notably, the pogues.

They waited three days to have a memorial service, not having been invited to Sarah's funeral. With no body to bury, the pogues hacked away some of the surface bark off the tree in front of the chateau.

Pope angrily shredded the bark until he'd finished a bare section in the shape of a heart. JJ stepped forward next with a blowtorch and a flathead, engraving John B's headstone into the tree.

2003 – 2020
John B Routledge
P4L

Each of the Pogues had found a memento to place in a small box, which Kiara now sadly held. Wyatt's memento was a map she and John B had worked on as an assignment for class as kids.

JJ held up a flask in his friend's honor. "To John B."

"And to Sarah," Kie weakly added. Wyatt linked her arm with the girl's, rubbing her shoulder with her free hand comfortingly.

JJ took a swig from his flask, and Pope took a sip of his beer, all four teens staring sadly at the tree.

Wyatt and Kie knelt at the base of the tree, digging a hole to place the box in before burying it. The boys dropped to their knees to help the girls, who then placed flowers over the grave.

Fast forward a few days. The pogues were moving on, or trying to. Of course, it had been less than a week since the death of their friends, so they gave themselves time to mourn.

Each pogue did that differently. Pope threw himself into his studies, rarely taking breaks to eat or sleep. JJ drunk himself into a stupor nearly every night, spending his days lounging on the dock of the chateau. Kie kept herself busy, paddle boarding, surfing, working – anything to keep her mind off the situation.

And after Peterkin's funeral, that also included vandalism.

She'd stopped by the Cameron's place a few times to spray paint the word "murderers" in big red letters along their outer wall.

Wyatt's methods were a little more... unorthodox.

It was safe to say she was depressed, not having left her house in a few days. When she did finally bring herself to get up out of bed, she almost fell over from how weak her body felt. She hadn't eaten in a while, and while that was partially thanks to her inability to get out of bed, it was also because her house was barren. A wasteland when it came to food.

She sighed. It took all her effort to shower and change into clean clothes, but by then, she felt if only slightly more energetic.

She needed sustenance desperately. And her solution? Stealing from the nearest convenience store.

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