She will be missed...So sad. 
I remember teaming with her, but not in a while...
-Pogoman, Master of Kick-Fu
-Co-Leader and recruiting officer of the Virtue Honor Guard
- lvl 50 ma/sr scrapper
-Ace O' Diamonds lvl 50 fire/rad controller
and waaaay to many other alts to mention right now
Away from this world, beyond and beside it, there once stood a place of nightmares. For ages it stood until someone happened to it. Attracted by the eerie qualities of the place, so much like his own greatest strength, Stranglehold had found the place. It was war at first sight. He'd left the place a blasted and desolate wasteland.
That was centuries ago.
Now, where once there was nothing and before that only nightmares, there grows a savage garden full of wild roses. In its center stand two apple trees, so close their trunks and branches have become intertwined with the years. In their shade rests a coffin made of glass and inside it the eternally beautiful form of a woman as if in deep sleep.
It is here that he comes to rest, every day. He never quite managed to save humanity from itself, but he also never stopped trying and still hasn't. A streak of silver has since found its way into his hair, and many more markings onto his body. But only one of them still stands as radiant as on the day he received it: A band inked into the skin on his ring finger, a thorny rose vine intertwined with a length of barbed wire.
A pattern one would find repeated across the entire garden if one were to look close enough. While their five-pointed bloom seems regular enough, the truth of the matter is that all of these roses spring from two vines, one of green and one of silver. Each vine wraps around the other in endless succession, different but the same.
He stands tall before her, tells her of the battles the day brought, the fire in his eyes brighter than ever, if flickering with something beyond sanity. He tells her of the fights won, and the friends lost in the unending war. And once in a while, he will have brought one of those now absent friends home as a mote of light, wrapped in a sphere of ghostly wrough iron. Brought them here and released them. Kept them from the suffering of hell, the boredom of heaven or the drudgery of the cycle, if such was their wish.
They flit through the wines and around one another in eternal dances much like the wisps by the lake where they used to sit. They bathe the garden in the colours of sunset and hearth fire. But they respectfully leave them be.
Every day he comes here, and every day it's the same ritual. He walks up to the coffin and only then removes his mask. Even as he smiles at her still shape, even as his eyes want to tell of the warmth that he still feels exists between them... he breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces inside and tears roll from his eyes. For a moment at least, because then the miracle happens.
He sees... something, a glimmer of hope, enough to make him whole again in that very same instant. And when he's told her all the news, he'll pluck an apple from the trees, and he'll sit down by her side and play their songs. Singing along at times, looking at pictures of a time that never should have been. And he'll smile.
Finally, he'll drift off into sweet sleep and sweeter dreams. Of a villa in Tuscany, and of hordes of tall raven-haired children with feet that will always be too big for their size. Of the wife that awaits him there with starlit eyes. That love to last until the end of time.
That thing that could not be and yet always will.
He is at peace.
"If you're going through hell, keep going."
Winston Churchill
Winston Churchill
((AH heck, I gotta get my mic fixed so I can talk to you guys. I knew you and hubs were done but I didn't know Cer was gonna die. ))
Jack Wolfe Prototype Super Tank, over 25 million in damage taken in the service of others
My 360 hates me and writes about it
Jack's X-Box's Blog
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars. ---Og Mandino---
((What?! Noooooo! You were one of my favorite people to rp with!))
Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos your reality
Evilly Yours, Fey Bot/Trap MM
((D: I am sorry to see you/her go, Lady C. I am very out of the loop, but are you parting from the game or simply retiring Rose Maiden? Also is she a known hero? I'd like to do a post for her but I don't want to do one that's incorrectly addressed, so to speak!))
My guides:Dark Melee/Dark Armor/Soul Mastery, Illusion Control/Kinetics/Primal Forces Mastery, Electric Armor
"Dark Armor is a complete waste as a tanking set."
( Agenla didn't get a chance to grow really close to Serena, but she really respected her. Although I was aware this was happening, it doesn't make it any less sad to part ways.
I'm wishing all the very best! )
Home of the Following (And about eleven other alts.):
[Agenla Kedair] - 50 :: Magic / Corruptor
[Eli Fresca] - 50 :: Magic / Scrapper
[Marcasite] - 50 :: Technology / Defender
[Xan Trine] - 50 :: Natural / Tanker
very sad about it ...grabs puppeh teddy bear and throws into coffin....
as Ood Sigma said....We will sing to you, Doctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep. This song is ending. But the story never ends.
Even Rikku never got the chance to meet Serena, the whole testament let her know that she was a gentle and brave woman. *gently leaves a dozen of Red Roses in front of her tomb along two pairs of her Widow blades* R.I.P Serena, now you are in a better place that betrayal, hate, hunger and all the impure things does not exist.
She will be greatly missed...
I'm going to miss Seri so much.
I only knew her for a really short time, but in that short time I realized she was one of the most caring and loving people I will ever meet. I have a picture from Lilah's bachelorette party where we're all holding up our phallic shaped cups for a toast, I'm going to put it in the frame of my mirror so I look at it every day and remember those good times.
(( You're making me all super sadface! Not only will I not get to RP with you more, I won't be able to RP on FS now! Hopefully we'll get to RP more in other games. *hug* ))
CJ stands nearby, looking at the crowd around the grave site. She wasn't sure exactly what she was doing here. She didn't know the woman beyond a reputation, but judging by all the people who are standing around the grave she was greatly loved and admired. The waves of grief coming from those assembled almost overwhelmed her own psychic defenses. Stray thoughts assulted her as well, she blocked those as well. It was easy now, she had spent months practicing so she no longer pciked them up out of the air. Somehow she felt that would've belittled the moment, intrude unfairly on other's sadness and memories.
CJ didn't understand why, but she felt a profound sense of sadness and loss herself. She had never met this remarkable woman, and now she never would.
After everyone left, CJ stepped from the shadows. She walked over and looked over the grave silently for 20 minutes. Finally, she lay a single red rose among the torrent of flowers already there. She walked away, a cool rain just beginning to fall.
((Okay I know there is more going on then I am aware of. That's fine it is none of my business. However, I would like to say that the Rosie RP prompts made me explore my characters in ways I never thought of before. And always, Lady C had encouragement to post with them. If this is goodbye to her as well, then I wanted to post how much she had touched me, even though I never once RP'd with her and that is truly a great shame. *sheds rl tear*)).
((Hope this is only an IC departure from CoH and not an OOC one as well. My toon Widow Girl only just met Rose on Formsprings recently but the little RP I saw there was very well done! Cheers and be happy in whatever you pursue!))
Kelly moved around near the back of the crowd, silently. She hadn't known the deceased well at all but for some reason felt compelled to come and see her off to the next life whatever that may be. She waited for the ceremony to be near its end before sneaking off once again.
Anola read the news in disbelief. She had met Rose several times, back when she had first come to Paragon. Rose had been an inspiration to her then. Now, she would never get the chance to get to know her better.
Anola couldn't afford the trip to Boston so she did the best thing she could to honor Rose.
As soon as she walked into the Kings Row Childrens Outreach Center, she was met with a chorus of voices squealing, "Look! It's that dragon girl!"
Anola knew who they had mistaken her for (after all, she was a lizard girl and not a dragon girl, and she wasn't wearing a scarf) but they were so excited that she just couldn't bring herself to correct them.
She sighed and said to someone she hoped was listening, "For you, Rose. For you."
((I'm gonna seriously miss you on these boards. ))
Doctor Kashaye Parker-Blades, also known as the heroine Soul Train, stood quietly to one side of the congregation. Instead of her white-and-gold cutaway, she wore a demure black dress and sunglasses.
"Damnit, Doc. You were one of the good ones, sugah. I guess we'll see you on the other side, someday."
She tosses a red rose into the grave and turns on her heel, and instead of bounding away in a storm of subatomic flux, simply walks away.
"City of Heroes. April 27, 2004 - August 31, 2012. Obliterated not with a weapon of mass destruction, not by an all-powerful supervillain... but by a cold-hearted and cowardly corporate suck-up."
It wouldn't be until days after the service that a heavy, dark blue exosuit would arrive at the gravesite. Touching down silently even though there seems to be a spectacle of light erupting from the boots to stabilize the unit as it touches down on the ground before the tomb.
Pulling off her helmet in a show of respect and tucking it under one arm, the scarred face of the tall woman focuses on the tomb itself for a long, long while. It's hard to miss the actual site of the body, being covered in all manner of roses from previous guests. It's here that the armoured woman stands for a good thirty minutes in quiet contemplation before reaching out and touching the name of Serena Rose Jordan.
The polished armour of the fingertips glide and tap lightly against the embossed letters one at a time before she withdraws her hand.
Cyberette doesn't seem to know what exactly to say to the woman she'd never met. But something about the situation compelled her to at least visit.
Stepping heavily away with a sigh, she looks back over her shoulder at the grave.
Then looks around cautiously before whispering...
"...I uhm. I only just heard. And. Uhm. I just wanted to say. I'm sorry. and. You didn't deserve ... anything. Like this. Hope you found peace. ...I'm. I'm Gonna go, now. I wish We could have met."
She steps quietly away from the tomb, before beginning the grueling process of tucking her hair into her helmet, locking it into place, engaging her sonic thrusters, and taking off again back toward Paragon.
@Angerbunny
angerbunny.deviantart.com
It would be a matter of hours after the funeral that two figures would find themselves in the drizzle-soaked cemetery in Boston, the sky respectfully drawing it's sunlight under a veil of grey clouds for the one who had passed from life into the beyond which Man, Alien and extra dimensional alike could only speculate upon.
The first was a tower of a man, dressed in a well-cut black suit, his rich, brown hair clinging to his brow, bisected by a diagonal scar that cleaved it's way cleanly across his face to the opposite side of his jaw. Steely, grey eyes gazing over the architecture of the tomb that lay before him in all it's humbling glory.
The other, a woman of healthy figure with lighter hair and similarly colored eyes watched as the towering gent, his build barely hidden by the cut of his attire, plodded toward the tomb, a small, somewhat battered envelope in his hand with a single name scrawled upon it in logical, no-nonsense handwriting:
Seri...
The younger woman's brow creases softly with concern for her sibling, The pair of them now the two remaining De'Havaland family members to which life had been both so cruel and kind. With a gaze of encouragement at her brother, Adrian De'Havaland turns back to the tomb, taking a weighty breath and speaking to the woman who had meaned the world to him, the woman who was now in places far fairer than him.
"I...well, you of all people know I was never good with words an' all that...but...Safe t'say: I dunno what took ya from the world, Seri...and it's hard knowin' that there ain't no-one to put in a shallow grave fer this but..."
The stern-faced man, his usually sharp grey eyes now swirling with sadness, swallows a lump in his throat to continue
"Rest assured you're in a place far better than this one...though, I gotta say the skies are never gonna be as bright now...Sun's gonna be just that little bit colder. Still, I.."
Adrian gazes down at the envelope, the name upon it, feeling the weight of it's contents before smiling sadly and continuing,
"There's an old tradition that says y'gotta have a bit of change on ya t'get to where yer goin'. Charon's a cranky, old b*stard apparently. I dunno if you ever shared the same belief but...hey, I figure better safe than sorry, right? I mean, it ain't fair to be destined for the fields of Elysium only t'get screwed out of it on a technicality...."
Again he falls silent, seemingly pouring out what words he can before sadness grips him enough to strangle the voice from his body.
"Just...keep in mind that t'us, you'll always be family, Seri. I know we both changed too much to ever consider goin' back to bein' what we were but....Here, wherever y'happen to be now, doesn't matter. You'll always be welcome in mine and Livvy's eyes."
He glances back to his sister, still watching him with her sympathetic gaze. Clearly she of all people knew how hard this was for her brother. With another sigh, he turns back to the tomb's door, slowly setting the envelope, it containing a single, antique obolus, beside the door of the tomb. It sits in clear view amongst the flowers and other tokens of respect, the name facing toward the door in the hopes that someone emerging would see it.
"I woulda gone with tradition on this one, but I don't think folk at the funeral would've appreciated me crackin' open yer casket to place a coin in yer mouth...So...here's hopin' ya pick it up on the way out, alright?"
With another sigh, he rises to his feet and winces gently, before kissing his fingertips and planting them on the door.
"G'bye Seri...May what lies beyond be worth every ounce of good will you put into this world. God only knows y'deserve the best it can offer..."
With a slow turn, Adrian Graeham De'Havaland, known with hushed secrecy as The Shadowstormm turns from the tomb, plodding through the light rain as he moves to embrace his sibling before the pair of them depart to leave the dead to their rest.
((Well should she come back, Seraph could easily find means to harass a few would-be catastrophic mages! She owed him a date after all 
))
Alex, in his double-form Enerjack, stood quietly with many others as the funeral was held surrounding the spot that would become her tomb. Hands clasped and rested behind his back while he kept his chin lowered, hovering just above his collar. There the hero exposed his deepest regrets in private, she was a hero and a friend - she was one of them; those who gathered around. A hero in his book but also just another person doing what they thought was right as well. Guided by her own form of moral code, that which Alex grew to respect even when being just a simple onlooker to her open clashes out in the streets with would-be dangerous villains.
When the time came to take leave, Alex approached for his turn to say his goodbyes. A backwards fitted baseball cap was on his head, eyes covered by his signature black shades with yellow lenses, beneath those lenses rested two emerald hue orbs that stared into the abyss that was Seri's grave. There one could easily identify the woman but beneath that clear casket, Alex saw the woman in her full bloom state; the smile and polite nature that he came to affiliate her by. Placing his right hand onto the face of the casket, his hand hovered nearly a foot from her face; stopped by the thick glass that encased her. His head lowered, he went to say his goodbyes of admiration and hope that in the next form, next life, or whatever she believed; that she would be happy - and truly free at peace.
When he removed his hand, Alex leaned back and straitened. Thunder crackled in the distance and as he looked up to gaze at the sky, a droplet landed onto the shade of his right lens. A little smirk of hope rose on that boy's face, 'Ironic, that during a time of morning - this moment gives me strength.' In the distance sporadic fingers of plasma tickled the base of super cells over head, 'That better be you telling me to get my *** to work!' The boy added in thought, that smirk of his grew until his mouth gaped and a soft audible chuckle could be heard.
The young man looked back to the grave, back at the lying woman's face. As he sifted through his jacket, he pulled out what looked like a poster. A makeshift poster at that, on it's surface spread out were two separate articles. One one half Seri and on the other the famous Enerjack, cut outs from the tabloids and the best two individuals pictures he could find. There he cut and pasted the two pictures together with some hopeless romantic saying: "Together will have to wait, world needs saving still; be patient dollface."
"It's just a joke." he said softly, setting the poster down. "Dreams of a child have to move on someday." Sifting through his jacket again, patting himself with his free hand as he looked around for something to find and also put down. There was a moment of worry, that there was nothing fitting for the beautiful queen. Until he reached up and removed his goggles, setting them too down. "Here, they helped me see through reality in a different perspective; maybe you help you as well." Showing one more parting goodbye, Alex stepped back and then turned about to walk away. As he cleared the distance from himself and the crowd, having his turn, the hero known as Enerjack stepped out into the clear.
Pausing in a pose, Enerjack looked over at a pair of people. A news caster and her teammate cameraman looked over. "What, you'd thought I'd sparkle? Psh!" And just like that in a nearly blaring flash of light, a bolt struck down to the ground from above and using him as the conduit; his body vanished.
A deep purple BMW had pulled up to the cemetery not long after the service ended. Once the crowd disperses, a young gentleman with square copper-rimmed glasses and a strikingly veined face steps out. Underneath a well-tailored purple suit was a light blue dress shirt and a midnight red tie, echoing the color of his hair. In his left hand was a bouquet of synthetic red roses (fitting, considering he didn't know the dear woman who'd passed was a hero with a name that deserved nothing else). In his right was a small binder.
He walks quietly into the tomb and sets the flowers down calmly.
"Hi Dr. Jordan," he says somewhat awkwardly. "My name is Professor Jeremiah Cooke. We've never met, we've never talked, but I'm sure we've heard each other's name at some point. I heard your name numerous times in my career, of your work in genetics and other fields. I heard great things. I'm a neurosurgeon and chemist, myself. I was sad to hear you'd left this world for better surroundings. Those in our line of work usually find the end of their rope in an accident, or a lab raid or something. I'm glad 'natural causes' were your method. I can only hope I follow you in that regard."
He sets a locked binder next to the tomb. "These are some of my notes. Some of the things I've studied, unlocked, invented. You can read them if you like. A fellow scientist might find it interesting, or... I don't know. Somehow it seems appropriate, sentimental; I'm sorry if it's not. I also brought these roses, which... are among about a thousand others it looks like."
He kneels, lowering his head.
"Rest in peace, Dr. Jordan. I'm positive your friends and family have said you left too early, but our time is never infinite. In a world where the most common death is brought about by villainy and battle, you were blessed to fall into a peaceful eternal sleep. I sincerely hope your work will continue in your colleagues and collaborators; I'd be sad to see your accomplishments halted by something like this."
Dr. Cooke stands, smiling. "Doctors tend to linger forever, you know. Our work and our thoughts never stop. Goodbye, Dr. Jordan. See you in the next life."
As he walks back to his car, he can still hear the residual thoughts from the funeral, memories and sounds and visions. A smile crosses his face as he shuts the door and turns over the engine. He was glad she lived such a full life.
My guides:Dark Melee/Dark Armor/Soul Mastery, Illusion Control/Kinetics/Primal Forces Mastery, Electric Armor
"Dark Armor is a complete waste as a tanking set."
She swore when she realized she'd missed the funeral.
Ryou had just gotten done dealing with a crisis: several kids had been ice skating on a frozen pond that wasn't so frozen after all, as the surface had cracked and broken apart abruptly-
She'd dived in without thinking of the risk to herself..any flames she tried to use would heat and thaw ice, but wouldn't last long in water...
Which was long enough for her and other rescue workers to pull the kids to safety, and at least try to make the tail end of the funeral.
She'd never met Rose Maiden, but knew her by reputation..and one chance encounter...in Pocket D.
One night, she'd come across two costumed figures basically reenacting the "Who's on First" routine. They'd gathered a small crowd.
The first one she knew by the green and white uniform as Nurse White. The other, she later found out was Rose Maiden...and they were close friends, and apparently prone to breaking out in comedy routines..
Ryou smiled now, remembering how random...and ultimately how silly it had seemed to come across the impromptu comedy routine. The superhero profession seemed to attract quite a few colorful characters, but not many of them stood in the middle of the D reciting Abbot and Costello.
And maybe that's why they had done it...to bring a smile to the (often too serious) heroes.
She finally landed at the cemetery, after flying from Paragon City to Boston, and realized just how much she stuck out in the black and red costume she'd recently started wearing again. Not that many were here to see her; at this point, it was mostly a couple of workmen crouching near the grave of the Rose Maiden.
As she walked towards them, she realized what the problem had to be- they were crouched near a pilot light for an 'eternal flame' memorial. One, a National Grid employee, was trying to light it, and having no success.
Ryou bent over them..."Here, let me try.." She extended a hand, and a small flower of flame appeared in it..which then seemed to flicker towards the memorial.
After a moment, a rose, made of flame, seemed to grow out of the memorial. Ryou stood back.
*Rest in peace, Rose*, Ryou thought to herself, *I just wish I'd stopped to get to know you.*
(The scene in the D actually did happen in game one night; and is one of me as player's fondest memories- I just hope Nurse White forgives me for mentioning her in this post, but as she was the other half of that comedy routine...well, I couldn't mention one without the other, could I? And Lady C, I do hope we will meet someday somewhere on the 'net.)
Global is @Mellissandria
I don't have that much art, but I do write stories and I do collect art on
my DA account
((Ascendant stands up and speaks at her funeral after the priest asks if anyone has anything to say about the deceased))
Um... Hi... Uh... everyone...
Er... Look...
It is my regret-- one that will live with me for the rest of my days-- that I did not have the chance to know Rose Maiden as well as I would have liked, as well as many of her closest friends knew her. The thing is that every time I was fortunate enough to talk to her, she challenged me to be better, to try harder, and to make a positive change in the world, because she believed I could rise to those challenges she set for me, and I have tried ever since to honor the idea that her belief was not misplaced. I counted her as a fellow hero, but more importantly, a trusted friend and confidant, but it is with the sense of enormous loss that I look back and realize I squandered the opportunity to follow that friendship further.
To be perfectly frank, I always thought there would be more time.
But, the cold, hard fact is that there never is more time.
There's just the time we have.
John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans”. Unfortunately, the darker converse to that maxim that he probably, tragically, discovered all too late is that sometimes, your other plans stop happening with the loss of life.
For all the places I've been, the amazing things I've witnessed, and the incredible people I've been fortunate enough to meet, I still lack the poet's wisdom to accurately articulate the magnitude of her loss, so instead I take comfort in the words of my father, who once told me “If you can honestly say you were more enriched by a person's presence than diminished by their passing, they had a successful life.” By that metric, Rose had a life many, many times more successful than most people can imagine.
And while I mourn her passing, I refuse to despair in her loss, because at the end of her day, the world is a better place because she was here.
We're better people because she was here.
She will be missed, and the city's light will be darkened by her absence, but I have full faith that the many, many individuals she also inspired to be better, to try harder, to make a positive change in the world, will pick up her torch from where it fell and carry it forward, clear of vision, sure of foot, and free of fear.
And I think that's exactly what she would have wanted.
Um... Thank you.
Ascendant
Now, more than ever, Paragon City needs heroes. Do your part to save it.
A small grey cat slips into the crowd at the funeral, carrying a single white rose in her mouth. She drops in at the foot of the coffin, sniffs the blossom and nods once, then creeps out again without comment.
[well...darn.]
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
((This is an IC post of a character I have played for 6 years here on Virtue, and I wanted to ensure that those whom have known and played with her to know that she has been retired and those whom stand to inherit from her will will know what they have received. Please take this post as my last In character Rosies RP prompts, so if anyone would like to post a farewell or reaction to this please do so. Take Care ~Lady C))
Dr. Serena Rose Jordan was found unresponsive in her home in Kings Row the evening of Monday February 21st and was later legally pronounced dead at 12:02 am of February 22, 2011.
There where no signs of forced entry into her apartment where she was found, the doctors report no signs of foul play or physical reasoning as to why Ms. Jordan passed away.
Services will be held in Boston. All charitable contributions should be made to the Kings Row Childrens Outreach Center.
Serenas Apartment building will be abandoned and her roof top garden overgrown by wild bestial roses that would befit any lair of Poison Ivy's.
Last will and testament of one Dr. Serena Rose Jordan
I Serena Rose Jordan hereby declare that this is my last will and testament and that I hereby revoke, cancel and annul all wills and codicils previously made by me either jointly or severally. I declare that I am of legal age to make this will and of sound mind and that this last will and testament expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress.
2. Appointment of Executors
2.1. I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Catherine Eisenburgh as Executor or if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint Dr. Jack Wolf as alternate Executor.
2.2. I hereby give and grant the Executor all powers and authority as are required or allowed in law, and especially that of assumption.
2.3. I hereby direct that my Executors shall not be required to furnish security and shall serve without any bond.
2.4. Pending the distribution of my estate my Executors shall have authority to carry on any business, venture or partnership in which I may have any interest at the time of my death.
2.5. My Executors shall have full and absolute power in his/her discretion to insure, repair, improve or to sell all or any assets of my estate, whether by public auction or private sale and shall be entitled to let any property in my estate on such terms and conditions as will be in the best interest of my beneficiaries.
2.6. My Executors shall have authority to borrow money for any purpose connected with the liquidation and administration of my estate and to that end may encumber any of the assets of my estate.
2.7. My Executors shall have authority to engage the services of attorneys, accountants and other advisors as he/she may deem necessary to assist with the execution of this last will and testament and to pay reasonable compensation for their services from my estate.
3. Bequests
3.1. I bequeath unto the persons named below, if he or she survives me by 30 (thirty) days, the following property:
Elizabeth White I bequeath the whole of my fortune funds, properties there to owned solely by me.
Pearl Edith White I bequeath the whole of the Ryan Estate and all sundries there to.
Gideon St. John I bequeath my Lab in Kings Row and all its contents. (This should include enough medical inventions whole and in part to last generations including the virus used on the Rikti they battled a black photo journal and some very interesting DNA samples.) Prescott Labs and Industries Corp for his sole use and discretion, and my Music Collection.
Jake Love I bequeath my collection of Kinichi tribal weapons and my hunting preserve in Northern New York
Adrian De'Haveland I bequeath My Grandfathers Antique Gun Collection and the enclosed sum for repairs on the De'Havaland estate to become finished.
Daniel "Hard Cash" Ryan I bequeath the Ryan and Fitzgerald Family Library and all tombs of knowledge contained there in, all relics and Ryan family property in Boston there to.
3.2. If at the time of my death any of the property described in 3.1. above is no longer in my possession or part of my estate, then the bequest of such property shall be deemed null and void and shall no longer form part of this will and testament.
3.3. If any of the persons named in 3.1. above do not survive me by 30 (thirty) days, the property bequeathed to such a person shall become part of the remainder of my estate.
3.4. If any property described above is encumbered by debt which the beneficiary of such a bequest does not want to assume liability for, such property shall revert to the remainder of my estate.
4. Remaining Property and Residual Estate
4.1. I bequeath the remainder of my estate, property and effects, whether movable or immovable, wheresoever situated and of whatsoever nature in equal shares to:
Pearl Edith White
4.2. If any of the beneficiaries named in 4.1. are proved to be indebted to me by means of a legal instrument, then his / her share of my estate shall be reduced by the amount of such debt.
4.3. Should any of the beneficiaries named in 4.1. not survive me by 30 (thirty) days I direct that the non-surviving person's share goes to his / her natural, adopted or step children in equal shares.
5. Special Requests
I direct that on my death my remains shall be kept intact expenses shall be paid out of my estate.
I direct that on my death my remains shall be buried at Forrest Hills Cometary in Boston Mass, in the Fitzgerald Ryan Tomb and all funeral expenses shall be paid out of my estate.
6. General
6.1. Words signifying one gender shall include the others and words signifying the singular shall include the plural and vice versa where appropriate.
6.2. Should any provision of this will be judged by an appropriate court of law as invalid it shall not affect any of the remaining provisions whatsoever.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF I hereby set my hand on this the eighteenth day of February 2011 at 4:32pm in the presence of the undersigned witnesses.
SIGNED: Dr. Serena Rose Jordan
A gentle rose, that God now calls his own.