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Lena Curiosa
How she’d made it this far, she had no idea.
The crowd in the square had dispersed just a few moments before sundown, just moments before the concrete cocoon around her began to shatter. Once it had fallen away completely, and her wings had unfurled themselves and stretched before folding complacently along the lines of her back, tucking themselves into the folds of her dress, she’d climbed down from the plinth on her fountain before she’d realized that her legs were weak from years of stillness. The muscles had given out completely upon her first step, sending her to her knees on the cool, hard earth, sending a shock through her bones and leaving grass stains on her dusty white dress. She’d brushed them off as best she could, but there was nothing to be done about her legs save for practice, and more practice.
So she’d hobbled her way through the little town that was only vaguely familiar to her — so much had changed in sixteen years — and had somehow reached a quiant cemetery, were she stood now; the cemetery dusted in darkness and a slight fog bank, which rolled across the dewey grass in strolling billows. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing Lena could remember seeing.
And then her legs trembled to a stuttering halt before she’d expected them to, sending her lurching towards the ground, which was flying upward to meet her face much faster than she was ready to catch it. . .
She threw out her hands to brace herself; they jammed into the cold, rocky ground, and a searing stab flit across both of her palms. Her hands burned with the scrapes and cuts. She pulled herself back to her feet before surveying the damage; the skin on the heels of her hands was jagged and torn, riddled with miniscule, sharp-edged pebbles, and a faint ooze of blood was beginning to seep upwards. She groaned, before brushing the debris away from the wound and tottering towards the iron fence that surrounded the graveyard, seeking support from the unforgiving gound.
When she reached the gate, she pushed it open. It made a satisfying squeaking sound from years of battering and abuse from the elements. She shut it behind her, and turned her gaze to the cemetery.
Her eyes had no trouble adjusting to the darkness. Perhaps that was part of the curse; because she was forced to live in night from now on, perhaps her punisher allowed her the small victory of perfect night vision. She didn’t believe it. Perhaps the darkness was comforting because she had no day to compare it with. Somehow, she didn’t miss the sun. Just the warmth it brought with it.
She eventually had to let go of the wraught iron fence, and slowly stepped across the soft, feathery grass. She kept her eyes on her feet until she was confident enough that she could achieve more than a few feet before stumbling; then she began to study her surroundings.
The tombstones around here were in varying states of distress and decay; some stood erect,t all, and perfect; others were so crumbled and decrepit that the inscription upon them was almost impossible to decipher. She watched them as they passed, concrete and marble; she felt as if she understood them. If tombstones could be understood. She wasn’t exactly sure she was still sane. She hadn’t come across anyone to test herself.
She’d been almost so busy studying the stones that she’d barely noticed the angels that stood here and there, palms stretched towards the dark sky. When one finally caught her eye, she stopped cold, her dress fluttering to a halt around her legs a moment later.
She gazed up at the nearest angel, a tear in the corner of her eye which she dabbed away immediately. Was that was she looked like? All flowing, unmoving tendrils of hair, wings outstretched in triumph and sadness? Surely she couldn’t look that graceful, the weak, gangly girl who could barely walk? She understood who — and what — she was now, even though she hadn’t the first night; now she understood she was the angel in the midst of the town square, offering complacency for the inhabitants if they should need it. She felt it was a useless act, looking up to the angel as if she could offer some sense of hope, of relief. She couldn’t. In her concrete form, she was useless. A piece of rock set atop a fountain for landscaping’s sake.
Seeing the fellow angel sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine, and she began to feel uncomofrtable — as if the angel was aware of her gazing at it just like she was aware of the inhabitants of Helvaband when the stared at her.
She shook off the chill and rounded the angel in search of a more comforting sight. But because her eyes were eagerly searching for something she couldn’t name, she didn’t see the low-lying tombstone looming out of the darkness just in front of her. Her foot caught the top of it, sending her sprawling to the ground in a very unladylike fashion. Groaning and attempting to pick herself up from the damp ground, her hand came down on something unexpected; when she inspected it, it was a foot. She froze, before peering up at the face above her. The man didn’t look unkind, but Lena’s voice was still hoarse with nerves and non-use when she spoke.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she said, as she pushed herself to her knees. “Forgive me.”
babies! clicky!OOC: Royce is meeting Saaaaaaavio. And what he is drawing on himself looks rather like this .
BIC:
Royce Haggins
It had been a long time since he had dared travel to a place like this.
To him, it seemed both an unknown territory and a familiar place. How could one possibly feel that way? Royce couldn’t help but feel that he was a complete freak. Not to mention having no past to date. It seemed that, every day, he was slipping away from all he had remembered of his life. All he could truly remember, was a warmth that he couldn’t understand, a softness that nothing here could compare to…
Yes, he was going insane, he was sure of it.
He could remember meeting Thomas… and Nicolas… Royce could recall them with absolute clarity, every detail except his own thoughts, strange as that was. But… anything before that? Before he had awoken in the wilderness surrounding this town… Helvaband? Nothing. He could remember nothing at all. It was a rather sad situation, but he… somehow… felt that he had done something to deserve it.
‘What sort of person was I? Here, does it even matter at all? No one here seems to really care… Everyone here seems so friendly, easy going… Maybe it doesn’t even really matter. Why have I wasted so much time on this?‘
Royce sighed.
‘Because everyone needs to know who they are, that is why.‘
He wrapped his arms around himself, the sudden strange chill of a graveyard rushing over him. His shirt was torn, the strange markings from his thoughts adorning them. Royce sighed. Taking the small knife in its sheath from his pocket, he removed his left sleeve and started carefully scraping a design into his shoulder.
‘Maybe I could make someone new to be…‘
Dr. Hal RamseyA cemetery is the first place to go if you want to learn about a town. Already, Savio could tell Helvaband had seen better days, that it was possibly a dieing town.
More statues... None so enchanting. Savio felt as if he should be there, in the square, alone with the angel and night. But something else within him told him the square was forbidden at night. It wasn't a place for the likes of him. He was mortal. Not that the cemetery was any better.
Footsteps echoed throughout the large lot, vibrating off the graves. Whoever, whatever it is does not expect others to be here. Savio mused. He was a very superstitious man, and he never doubted things like magyk. He didn't fear it, but it was obvious to him that the world would not go round without it. Love was a lot harder to believe.
He turned, directing himself towards the source of the steps. Perhaps I will meet a magykcal tonight....
A creak. A groan. The sound of footsteps. Patrick was no longer alone in the cemetery.
He turned slowly, his eyes struggling to see in the dim light. The person, whoever it was, was nearing him slowly, steadily. He didn't cry out, for he was more curious about this intruder than scared, but he took a reflexive step towards the sound, his hearing trying to pinpoint the source.
Abruptly, the noise ceased, and Patrick glanced about him in confusion. Who's out there? What are they here for...and why have they stopped?
The steps began after a moment, coming ever closer. Patrick could make out the form of a woman hobbling towards him--
--and in that instant, she tripped over the same stone that had outsmarted him, and fell to the ground at his feet. She groaned and tried to stand up, grabbing his foot in the process. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” she said, getting herself into a kneeling position, her voice quiet and hoarse. “Forgive me.”
"It's quite all right," Patrick said with a smile, holding out a hand and helping the lady to her feet. He studied her. Her wavy blonde hair lay bedraggled about her face, and her dress was covered in dust and grass stains. What has happened to her? Gently, he reached out a hand and lifted her face so he could see it better. "Are you hurt?"
Something stirred in him as he gazed at her. I have seen her before, I know I have...
Lottie by MasciiOOC: I sowwy for making you and Savio wait so long, m’dear! ><
BIC:
Royce Haggins
After a while, sound noises sounded out in the complete silence of the graveyard. Royce looked up to see a thin figure not that far from him, that didn’t seem to notice him there. It was dark, so he could only see the dim light of the crescent moon shimmering in the eyes of the stranger.
Royce looked at his shoulder. He had done a rather good job of not causing much bleeding, and that was good. After all, he didn’t want to hurt himself. He just had nothing else to use for his art but himself. Carefully wiping the little bit of blood away, he put his sleeve back on, to hide his strange piece of artwork.
With a sigh, his curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up, slipping the knife into it’s sheath and out of sight in his pocket. He clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly went over. It was a young man, and a handsome one at that, with a strange glint in his eyes. This man before him was surely an artist, the way he watched everything around him showing that. An artist, just waiting for the perfect inspiration, perhaps? But why in a graveyard at night, all alone? Surely he had better places to be?
“Good evening.” he said, calmly. He wasn’t sure if he was bothering this silently brooding man, but it was worth a moment to see if this person was lonely. After all, most artists do not simply get their artwork from flashes in their memory as Royce did. They had to be struck with a thought or a scene that was worth recreating. And even the slightest bit of help – he knew – could trigger something amazing.
Maybe something amazing could come to mind tonight.
Dr. Hal RamseySavio Naccarelli
"Obsession: The domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, object, or person." Savio mumbled to himself as he strolled through the cemetery, stopping every so often to look at a stone cold angel. "That's what's wrong with you." He reassured himself as he squinted at ones face, being careful to not step on the actual grave while doing so. Once he could safely say she was nothing like the angel's in the square, he kept walking. "You're ridiculous." And he was.
Everyday for the last week he had stopped by the square from one o' clock until just before dusk, when the light was best, to try and paint her. Passerby would stop and watch, giving compliments and even coin once or twice. But no matter how good it was to the townspeople, Savio would convince himself his work was no good compared to the original, and by the time he left the square he would be carrying two or three crinkled up attempts under his arm. And that wasn't the worst part. Not only did these attempts get worse by the day, but all his other works of art seemed to be.... suffering. And tonight, he couldn't sleep. So he came to the cemetery to think. To think and find a different angel, one that might save him from this.. this....
"Obsession." He repeated silently to himself.
"Good evening" A deep voice cut through the silence, interrupting Savio's search. He slowly around, his eyes wide, to see a tall, muscular man standing before him. He silently prayed the man had not heard his mumbling, as it would not do if Savio made a first impression that depicted him as insane. Of course, he had not the foggiest idea whether he was sane or not, but still....
"Good evening." He replied, tipping his hat. He searched the graveyard to find a relative, or perhaps a friend, but this man seemed to be all alone. "Visiting?" Which, he thought, was a stupid question, for who other than him had reasons to come to the cemetery, if not for visiting?
OOC: Sorry it’s been so long, Poppy!!!
Lena Curiosa
The man she’d stumbled upon — quite literally — was a kind-looking human (Lena used the term in her mind to refer to people who weren’t cursed; therefore, she was not a human. . . just an entity), with brown hair and pretty blue eyes that pierced through the night of their own accord. He was handsome, Lena thought, and wondered if that was simply because she’d not seen a man in sixteen years, or not.
“It’s quite all right,” he said with a smile, as he reached out, his hand hovering above her. Tentatively she took it; she allowed herself to be helped to her feet by the man and bowed her head at him once as a thank you. She was aware of his eyes taking in her appearance; self-consciously, she studied her dress herself, and found that it was dirty and torn. She was annoyed by this; she’d need to find a new one, or wash this one in a nearby creek. . .
She was still looking down when the man gently reached out and, with his fingers, lifted her face so he could see her better. Compassionately, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
With a swell of gratefullness for the stranger, she smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you.” His fingers were still under her chin, though, and she could see a dim sense of recognition in his eyes.
Had he realized who — what — she was?
With a faint blush and downturned eyes she tilted her head down again, her hair swinging forward. She wasn’t sure if recognition was a good thing or bad. And she wasn’t sure if she should tell the truth or not.
She didn’t know who to trust.
babies! clicky!“I’m fine. Thank you,” the young lady said. Patrick smiled and let his hand slip out of hers, noting with a pang that hers felt slightly wet and sticky. He glanced at his hand, then reached out and took hers again, turning her palms up so he could see them. As he had suspected, they were peppered with cuts and scrapes, some bleeding, others simply red and angry and most likely painful. He met her eyes, shaking his head. "Are you sure about that?" he asked with sympathy, reaching into his pocket and taking out a handkerchief.
Gently, he dabbed away at some of the cuts on her hand, trying his best not to hurt her. He kept this process up for a minute or two before realizing that what he was doing was not very proper, as far as the lady was probably concerned. He stopped and awkwardly handed the handkerchief to her. "I'm sorry. Here, I'll let you take care of that yourself. I was just trying to help...you really ought to get those cuts taken care of, though. If you don't clean them out, they could get infected...and believe me, that hurts." He smiled wryly.
He gazed at her, an irritated feeling coming over him--a feeling he was familiar with. It was the nagging feeling that you believed you had seen someone before, but cannot remember where and when you would have seen them. I have seen her before, I know it, but where? I don't remember anyone around town matching her description...
He met her eyes with his and the feeling intensified. Although wary, something in her eyes seemed knowledgeable and wise, calm and tranquil. Patrick gave a mental shrug. "May I ask what has happened to you, Miss? You look a bit worse for wear..."
Lottie by MasciiLena Curiosa
When she assured him she was fine, he took her hands again and studied them. Lena looked herself; they were spotted with red and pink and some of the small wounds were bleeding. The man shook his head knowingly. “Are you sure about that?” he asked kindly. He withdrew from his pocket a clean handkerchief and, ever so gently, began dabbing at her wounds. Lena let him, watching in silence as he cleaned her wounds.
Then, as if he’d realized something, the man look up and offered her the handkerchief. “I’m sorry. Here, I’ll let you take care of that yourself. I was just trying to help…you really ought to get those cuts taken care of, though. If you don’t clean them out, they could get infected…and believe me, that hurts,” he said, tacking a wry smile onto the end. Lena smiled back slightly before accepting the handkerchief and pressing it between both of her palms.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll wash them in the stream as soon as I can, there’s a nice clear-water one just over the hill, I saw it on my way here,” she said, and then realized what she’d said. Was it too much? Surely a normal human wouldn’t wash a wound in a nearby stream. She cast her eyes downward. She hoped the man might just let her comment slip. And then she wondered what his name was. They hadn’t introduced themselves.
She looked up, intending to ask for his name, but he was already looking at her. “May I ask what has happened to you, Miss? You look a bit worse for wear…” he said before she could speak. Lena gave herself a quick once over before glancing up at him and grinning sheepishly.
“I presume you could ask, yes. I seem to be unnaccustomed to my feet,” she said with a small laugh. Hopefully he would see it as small joke. She pulled her palms apart and held out the one that wasn’t bleeding anymore. She clutched his handkerchiefe in the other hand. “Please call me Lena,” she said.
babies! clicky!“Thank you,” said the lady. “I’ll wash them in the stream as soon as I can, there’s a nice clear-water one just over the hill, I saw it on my way here.” Patrick raised a quizzical eyebrow at her but said nothing. Why would she wash her hands in a stream--why not wait until she was at home? Although it would be quicker to use a stream, wouldn't it? Maybe that's her point, she doesn't want to risk causing herself further pain by waiting to clean her cuts. That might be it...nevertheless, a very strange girl, this one is...
As politely as he could, he asked what exactly had happened to the lady that caused her to end up so battered and bewildered. She laughed a bit. “I presume you could ask, yes. I seem to be unaccustomed to my feet.” Patrick chuckled as well. "Ah, yes. I have often faced a similar problem myself. I go one way, my feet go another."
The girl held out one hand, and Patrick shook it. “Please call me Lena,” she said. Patrick smiled at her. "Very nice to meet you, Lena. I'm Patrick."
I know I've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of me I can't think of where! I don't believe we had actually spoken before this moment, but she seems so familiar to me I would think it's impossible that I haven't at least caught a glimpse of her before. But where? Where could I have seen her?
"If I may, Miss Lena...I must say you look very familiar to me, as if I have seen you somewhere prior to this. We haven't met before, have we? I have the strange feeling that we have, and it's making me very curious as to why I feel that way and yet cannot remember how or when we would have seen each other."
Lottie by MasciiBIC:
Lottie Fitzgerald
It was all so overwhelming, almost too much for Lottie to take in at once. Meeting Sterling in the woods, hearing his sad story, realizing that many of the things she had grown up hearing about Magyck and witches and the realm of the Fey were, in fact, real. It made Lottie uneasy, thinking about just how much she had to learn about the world around her...Mama had always taught her everything she needed to know, but even Mama didn't know what Lottie did now. It scared Lottie, knowing more than Mama did--scared her almost more than she was willing to admit. She felt more vulnerable than she had in years.
But wait. I don't really have anything to worry about, do I? Sterling said he would protect me, because I'm his friend, and he'll protect Mama too. That witch--whoever she is--won't hurt us...Sterling will make sure of it.
A little seed of doubt interrupted Lottie's thoughts, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, it wouldn't leave her...But if Sterling can hardly protect himself from the witch, how can he protect us?
Lottie looked up, stopping her worried thoughts. Somehow, without realizing it, she had made her way to the Helvaband cemetery. She had never been here before in the brief time she had been in Helvaband--cemeteries had always been a source of fright for her ever since she was little. But today, Lottie felt almost compelled to enter it, to face her fears simply because she could, unlike with the witch. She pushed open the iron gate and let it swing shut behind her, entering the cemetery with a heavy heart.
Her eyes skimmed the empty graveyard, coming to rest first on the tranquil angel statues, so similar and yet so different from the beautiful, wise angel in the square. I'll bet the Angel would know what to do, Lottie thought. She seems like she had the answers to everything. Walking further, she saw the single willow tree on the other side of the cemetery, looking as helpless as Lottie felt. "Don't cry, tree," she said softly, a little smile flickering across her face. Every time Lottie saw a willow tree, she repeated those exact words--something Mama said she had first done when she was no more than three years old, although she had no memory of ever doing so.
Lottie's eyes skimmed the names carved onto the headstones as she walked, taking them in and wondering who they must have been in life. Elisabeth Poincare...Joseph Archer...Matilda Draper...Liam Mahoney...Norah Mahoney...so many graves, so many lives lost...did the witch have anything to do with that, too? Has she been responsible for some of the deaths here?
A slight rustling caused Lottie to turn around, although she realized with a start that she was not afraid. The witch couldn't have discovered Sterling so quickly, and as far as Lottie knew there was no other immediate danger in Helvaband. More likely than not it was just a citizen of Helvaband, a mourner coming to pay their respects or someone like Lottie herself, just visiting the cemetery out of curiosity or a desire to find some sort of comfort among the sweet angels and the willow tree. "Is anyone there?" she called out lightly.
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
The cemetery hovered before her just a stone’s throw away, and Lilith quietly slipped over to the gate, resting her hands on the cool iron as it quickly warmed beneath her touch. Oooh…it’s beautiful.. She had always loved cemeteries, and this one in particular brought back bittersweet memories. It was a picnic…a quiet little picnic we had…I remember it being warm that day, that I wanted to lay back and sleep forever beneath the heat of the sun. I remember there were strawberries, sweet and the object of some sort of laughter unexplainable now…
She smiled softly at the grey, somber gravestones, worn statues and crude stone creations, all of them giving the cemetery a sort of haphazard pillar look, as if all the different graves were vast and varies buildings in a silent city. But the silent city was being disturbed, not merely by Lilith herself, but also by another.
“Is anyone there?” She looked young and out-of-place, with her blonde curls and wide eyes, but there was also something altogether strange about her expression and countenance that was unmistakable to Lilith.
Lilith smiled gently, sending the woman a nod of acknowledgment, “Bonjour, I am sorry if I frightened you…” she stepped through the cemetery gate, standing just inside its protection from the world outside the city of silence. “It is quite by accident that I walk slowly and quietly – I often find myself jarring others out of their reveries.” She looked around, as if expecting someone – not wanting to push her company so harshly on this gentle companion she had found, but also wordlessly offering a sort of truce, so that neither of them had to be alone here. Did anyone really wish to be alone in a graveyard? For even if it was lifeless, hanging still and unmoved by time as it truly seemed, fate declared that many would find its enclosure sacred and as vital as water to quench the thirst of the romantic and longing. Lilith’s hand caressed a gravestone, and under her breath commented, “It’s so quiet here…”
My Dorky Diner BoyThe other intruder into the peaceful realm of the cemetery was a woman who looked quite a few years younger than Lottie herself, the difference between the two almost enough to make Lottie smile. This lady was as dark as Lottie was fair, ebony hair almost matching the overall mood of the cemetery, and unlike Lottie, the newcomer almost seemed pleased to be in such a dark, mysterious, almost sinister place. Suspicion flared inside Lottie, and she tensed for a moment before it faded, vanished as quickly as a snuffed-out candle flame. She can't be the witch, can she? There's no way she could have followed Sterling all the way here...she can't have found him yet! This can't be her! She looks too nice to be an evil witch...doesn't she? I'm...I feel so lost...
The woman sent a smile Lottie's way, one that she returned despite the gentle warning in her heart. You're safe, Lottie. Don't all the stories say witches can't come into a cemetery, anyway? Hallowed ground or something? Oh, I wish I could remember...why are my memories so funny? Why don't I remember anything from before I was eight or nine? I don't remember a single thing...no Christmas memories, no holidays or trips...no recollection of moving around at all, but Mama says we've always done that, haven't we? And I don't remember what Papa looked like at all...or the sound of his voice. Shouldn't I remember something like that, even though he died when I was so young? Why don't I remember?
Just try to relax. Nothing can hurt you here.
“Bonjour, I am sorry if I frightened you…” the lady said softly. Lottie put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. "I wasn't scared..." she said, trying to sound brave but knowing all the while she was probably failing. She gave a soft little sigh. You're safe...don't worry...
“It is quite by accident that I walk slowly and quietly – I often find myself jarring others out of their reveries. It’s so quiet here…” Yes, it is. And that's what scares me.
"It's all right," said Lottie softly, smiling a bit more genuinely this time. "I...I don't mind...I'm Lottie," she added, a slight note of shyness in her voice.
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“Bonjour, I am sorry if I frightened you…”
The young woman placed her hands on her hips and tried to appear unaffected. “I wasn’t scared…” came the reply. Lilith smiled.
“It is quite by accident that I walk slowly and quietly – I often find myself jarring others out of their reveries.” she glanced around solemnly at the gravestones, “It’s so quiet here…”
“It’s all right,” said the woman gently, and with the soft smile of the shy ones, “I…I don’t mind…I’m Lottie,”
“That’s a very beautiful name,” Lilith gave a little curtsey, “I am Lilith.” She only gave her first name, since Lottie hadn’t, and it would have sounded strange and expectant of her. Plus, a first name was all that was needed now. She was a different woman than the Mlle. Eytinge she had once been. She had never liked the name, anyways. Mlle. Eytinge. It sounded like she was important, ladylike, and unapproachable. Distant. Now she wanted to be as warm as the blood flowing through her veins. The soft eyes of Lottie helped to remind her that she could make friends now, she could reach out to people. She wanted to have someone she knew to tell Nicolas about, she wanted someone to talk to.
“I just arrived at Helvaband not too long ago, and I felt a desire to see its cemetery today…” she said with a little shrug, “Have you lived here long?”
My Dorky Diner Boy“That’s a very beautiful name,” said the woman kindly, and Lottie smiled at her. "My father picked it. It's short for Charlotte." I don't know why he picked it...I don't know why he did anything. Mama won't ever talk to me about him. It makes her too sad...I wish I could remember him! I want to remember!
The woman gave a little curtsy, which Lottie considered for a moment before returning, quickly and carelessly, with a hint of sillyness about it. To her, curtsying had always been more of a game than an act of formality--fun to do, but not very useful in the long run. She wondered why the lady was choosing to be so formal now. “I am Lilith.”
Lottie's eyes widened at this, and her smile grew. "Oh! That's a pretty name too! I like it a lot," she said, clapping her hands excitedly. She then reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ears, her fingers trailing absentmindedly down the long, thin scar on the back of her head and neck. She was so used to it by now she rarely even remembered it was there, and Mama said it was hardly noticeable anymore, even though she made Lottie wear her hair down all the time so no one would see it. Lottie had never asked her why, but when she was feeling nervous or shy, her hand would usually find it's way up to touch her scar, taking comfort in it's presence with her.
“I just arrived at Helvaband not too long ago, and I felt a desire to see its cemetery today…” said Lilith, shrugging. “Have you lived here long?”
Lottie shook her head. "No, we only moved here a few months ago. I came here tonight because..." she let her voice trail off. She couldn't really tell Lilith that she came here to take her mind off of an evil witch, could she? Lilith would laugh at her, say she was imagining things, wouldn't believe her. I can't tell anyone, not even Mama. I can't talk to anyone about it except Sterling and... she smiled a bit. Except Sterling and Drake.
She, too, shrugged. "I don't really know why. I just came...my Mama doesn't know I'm here..."
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
That’s a very beautiful name,” Lilith said to her, and received a smile in return.
“My father picked it. It’s short for Charlotte.” Lottie told her.
“I am Lilith.”
Lottie’s eyes widened at this, and her smile grew. “Oh! That’s a pretty name too! I like it a lot,” she said. Then the clapped her hands, looking strangely like a schoolgirl as she used this childish gesture. Lilith was a little startled, but nonetheless murmured a thank you in return. She asked Lottie if she had lived here long, and got a little shake of the head sent her way, “No, we only moved here a few months ago. I came here tonight because…” When the sentence was left dangling, Lilith looked up curiously. What would have brought this odd Lottie girl to the cemetery? Obviously, she was nervous there. Why would she come.
She shrugged at long last, “I don’t really know why. I just came…my Mama doesn’t know I’m here…”
Lilith arched an eyebrow. She said ‘my Mama’ with such an adoring tone that Lilith couldn’t help but wonder how very important and vital Lottie’s mother was in her life – still was in her life. “She doesn’t? Well, she might get worried, but I wouldn’t fret too much. My mother was very protective. Which I suppose is why I was always getting into trouble…” she smiled at the memory, however vague and blurred as it might have been, “I liked to hear her mad at me. Because it meant she really loved me. If that makes any sense to you.”
My Dorky Diner BoyLilith had started to get that look on her face--the slightly confused and uncomfortable look that Lottie noticed people often gave her. She didn't like that look, mostly because she could never quite figure out why people looked at her like that. Is it because I've said the wrong thing to them? Mama says you should always be careful with what you say, because people can be so easily offended...but I don't think I offended Lilith. How could I have--all I said was that her name was pretty! So it can't be that--but then, what is it? What did I do to her that's making her give me that look? Why does anyone look at me like that? Sometimes they won't make eye contact with me, either, that's happened before...and Mama will never tell me why, either, when I ask her. She has to know--Mama knows everything, doesn't she? Of course she does. She's Mama. She has to know everything. But if she knows...then why won't she tell me?
She shyly revealed to Lilith that Mama didn't know that Lottie had journeyed into the cemetery. In the back of her mind, Lottie wondered how worried Mama would be when she got home. She almost smiled when she remembered earlier in the day, bribing Polly to take her into the woods and then meeting Sterling. How far away it seemed now, even though mere hours had passed. Maybe Mama's not home yet. Maybe I'll get back before she does and I won't get in trouble for going out by myself.
“She doesn’t?" Lilith asked. Lottie shook her head no. "Well, she might get worried, but I wouldn’t fret too much. My mother was very protective. Which I suppose is why I was always getting into trouble…I liked to hear her mad at me. Because it meant she really loved me. If that makes any sense to you.”
Lottie returned the smile Lilith gave her. "I understand. I'm sort of the same way. Mama's very protective of me--I never get to go out alone. I should be allowed to, I think--I mean, I'm twenty-seven years old, after all! She's always afraid of me wandering off and hurting myself or something...It gets annoying, but it's a mama's job to worry, that's what Mama always tells me. And Mama knows everything." She paused. "How old are you?"
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“She doesn’t?” was Lilith’s response when she heard that Lottie’s mother didn’t know she had gone off to the cemetery. Lottie shook her head in a negative gesture. Her facial expressions, her words…how she holds herself…they all remind me of a child… “Well, she might get worried, but I wouldn’t fret too much. My mother was very protective. Which I suppose is why I was always getting into trouble…I liked to hear her mad at me. Because it meant she really loved me. If that makes any sense to you.” Lilith had been struggling to remember her family, and yet she found herself explaining this personal portion of her life with utmost ease and assurance. Mother was always so protective…so protective..she never let me do anything. I wanted to be a boy. I didn’t want to be pretty, or court dukes and counts. I wanted to climb trees and go on adventures. I made me mother so mad all the time. What if she could see me now?
She wouldn’t recognize me.
“I understand. I’m sort of the same way. Mama’s very protective of me—I never get to go out alone. I should be allowed to, I think—I mean, I’m twenty-seven years old, after all! She’s always afraid of me wandering off and hurting myself or something…It gets annoying, but it’s a mama’s job to worry, that’s what Mama always tells me. And Mama knows everything.” Lilith was surprised to hear that the girl was twenty-seven – not merely because to so carelessly confide one’s age to another, nearly perfect stranger was quite disconcerting, but also because Lottie did not look a day older than nineteen to Lilith’s eyes. Perhaps it was her childlike semblance that made her appear so much younger. Also, she sounds like a child in how she speaks of her mother. She’s almost a decade older than me, but acts carelessly. It gives her an aura of innocence that cannot be falsified.
* “How old are you?”* Lottie asked quite brashly.
How old am I? I don’t know. I think I was nineteen when I died, though, dear Lottie. “I’m about twenty years old,” she said with a shy smile, not used to just handing out her age to acquaintances. But Lottie was no threat to her – she would have to learn to trust people again. Never as much as she had – she could admit to herself how deep ran the foolish rebellion in her veins during those years of strangeness – but she could still be with people as she used to be. “You are older than me, Lottie.” She said with a smile, leaning against one of the gravestones.
My Dorky Diner BoyIt seemed to Lottie that Lilith took a while to answer her question, as if she either didn't want Lottie to know how old she was. Things like that happened far too often than Lottie liked them to--Mama was always pulling her aside and telling her that she couldn't always say everything that popped into her mind like that, that some people would be offended by the things that she did and asked and said. 'I don't understand, Mama,' she would protest, looking at Mama with confusion in her eyes. 'Why? I'm only asking because I want to know. I just notice things and want to know more about them. Is that so bad? I notice things, Mama! I notice the things that no one else ever does!'
Finally, Lilith answered, “I’m about twenty years old,” her voice taking on an almost timid tone. Lottie looked at her, surprised. Only twenty? Wow...she looks so much older, though! She's so confident and pretty...and she doesn't look scared to be in here at all. How can she only be twenty and still be so brave?
Lilith smiled at her. “You are older than me, Lottie,” she announced, her words seeming so much louder than they would normally in the empty cemetery. Lottie beamed, clapping her hands excitedly again before crossing them over her chest in an almost defiant gesture. "Yes. Yes I am. I like being older than people...sometimes. It's fun. But Drake is older than me, and that's okay too." She stopped, realizing Lilith would most likely have no idea who Drake was. Hmmm...maybe Mama is right about that. Maybe I shouldn't talk so much...Mama's always right, isn't she? She has to be...
"You act older than just twenty," Lottie added, looking away. Maybe I should learn to be quiet once in a while.
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“I’m about twenty years old,” Lilith smiled at her. “You are older than me, Lottie,”
Lottie’s face went aglow with excitement as her hands met together in a rapidly performed clap. “Yes. Yes I am. I like being older than people…sometimes. It’s fun. But Drake is older than me, and that’s okay too.” Lilith arched an eyebrow. Drake…it sounded like a familiar name.
“Who is Drake? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.” she leaned back onto the gravestone and smile softly, “And I kind of like you being older than me. I’m not sure why, though. I just like the idea.” She sent Lottie a curious look. It seemed to her that the girl was getting increasingly nervous, and though Lilith sensed it, she couldn’t figure out just what was bothering the young – though not as young as she looked – Lottie.
“You act older than just twenty,”
Lilith smiled, “Well, thank you.” She tried to fish for a compliment that Lottie would actually like, since ‘you don’t act as old as you are, and I kind of find it endearing’ might be just what she didn’t want to hear. The aura of childlike glee and innocence effected Lilith’s speech and actions, and she found herself only to quietly add, “I like you, Lottie.”
My Dorky Diner Boy“Who is Drake?" Lilith asked with a curiosity that almost reminded Lottie of her own. Lottie paused for a moment, finding herself blushing even as she thought of Drake, even though blushing was something she rarely did. She reached up and put her hands on her face, surprised to find how warm her cheeks felt. Stop that! Stop doing that! Why am I blushing? I've never done anything like that before, have I? Lilith's going to think I'm strange, blushing like that when she says someone's name...stop it!
"I don’t think I’ve met him yet.” Lottie nodded, still touching her reddening face in wonder. "He's...he's my friend. He was the first person I met in Helvaband. I got separated from Mama in the square--I wandered off while she was still looking at the Angel, and I got worried and scared...Drake helped me find Mama again." She smiled, finally lowering her hands from her face.
“And I kind of like you being older than me. I’m not sure why, though. I just like the idea.” Lottie clapped her hands. "I sort of do to. Everyone's always older than me. Being older makes you more important, Mama says. I could boss you around if I wanted to. I'm older, after all." She smiled. "But I won't do that. Besides, you act older than just twenty,”
Lilith gave her a smile at that. “Well, thank you. I like you, Lottie.”
Lottie giggled at this. "Why thank you. I like you too. Maybe we should be friends?"
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“Who is Drake? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.” the question brought a blush of unparalleled color to Lottie’s pretty cheeks. She seemed genuinely surprised at herself for allowing such a thing to happen, and Lilith’s smile grew as Lottie brought her hands to her cheeks experimentally, to see if they had actually heated up the way it felt. Lilith remembered doing the same thing. She could see the surprise, the quiet delight, then the silent berating. Why am I blushing? Should I be blushing? Of course not! That’s embarrassing!
“He’s…he’s my friend. He was the first person I met in Helvaband. I got separated from Mama in the square—I wandered off while she was still looking at the Angel, and I got worried and scared…Drake helped me find Mama again.” Lottie smiled at she slowly lowered her hands from her face. Lilith made a mental note to remember Drake, the first person Lottie met in Helvaband.
“Well, I am glad he helped you.” She felt an irrepressible, knowing smile on her lips, and politely turned the subject to an easier matter for Lottie to handle at the moment. She leaned against a gravestone just behind her, using it for support as she met Lottie’s eyes evenly. “And I kind of like you being older than me. I’m not sure why, though. I just like the idea.”
Lottie clapped her hands. “I sort of do to. Everyone’s always older than me. Being older makes you more important, Mama says. I could boss you around if I wanted to. I’m older, after all.” She smiled. “But I won’t do that. Besides, you act older than just twenty,”
Lilith gave her a smile at that. “Well, thank you. I like you, Lottie.”
Lottie giggled delightedly, as full of cheer as if she was a child being offered an outing on the town, complete with all the candy she wished for. “Why thank you. I like you too. Maybe we should be friends?”
“Of course,” Lilith said softly, somehow finding the girl’s company easy to enjoy.
My Dorky Diner Boy“Well, I am glad he helped you,” said Lilith, and Lottie nodded fervently, more force behind it than she meant to. "So am I," she whispered, more to herself than Lilith. "So am I." He helped me so much...I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't been there. That's why he means so much to me, isn't it? Because he helped me find Mama when I was lost? Because he was there when I was all alone? Or...or is it more than that? Why do I care about you so much, Drake, and why do I feel what I do when I'm around you? Do...do you feel the same way I do, whatever it is? Oh, I hope you do...but what if you don't?
I wish I could talk to Mama about this, she would know what to do. She could explain it to me. But I can't...she could explain it, but she wouldn't understand...and she wouldn't like it if she did. Mama only sees what she wants to see, and she wouldn't want to see this...I don't like keeping whatever this feeling is from Mama, but I have to, don't I?
Oh, Drake, do you feel about me the way I feel about you? Could you? Would you laugh at me if I told you some of the things I've been thinking?
Or would you understand?
Lilith's voice broke through Lottie's thoughts then, and they started talking about age and how they both liked that Lottie was the older one. Lottie clapped her hands again and put them on her hips like she always did. "I could boss you around if I wanted to," she told Lilith, her tone serious. "I’m older, after all.” She smiled. “But I won’t do that. Besides, you act older than just twenty."
“Well, thank you. I like you, Lottie.”
“Why thank you. I like you too. Maybe we should be friends?” Lottie asked, her voice full of hope.
“Of course,” Lilith replied. Lottie couldn't help the large grin that came over her face, and she jumped up and down. "Oh! Oh, thank you!" She stopped, looking down at the ground and playing with a strand of her hair. "I don't have many friends," she admitted.
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
Cheerful Lottie clapped her hands, then after they were done with their active business, they moved to her hips, where she could better focus on the conversation of ages. “I could boss you around if I wanted to,” she told Lilith, her tone serious. “I’m older, after all.” They both shared a smile. “But I won’t do that. Besides, you act older than just twenty.”
“Well, thank you. I like you, Lottie.”
“Why thank you. I like you too. Maybe we should be friends?” Lottie asked, her voice full of hope.
“Of course,” Lilith’s response was accompanied by the idea that being friends with Lottie would probably be one of the easiest and more interesting relationships she could find herself in. It wasn’t simple for Lilith to learn to become good company for some people, mostly busybodies who disguised their true meanings behind kind words. When Lilith received a compliment, it was easier to take if she could believe that person meant it. As simple as Lottie’s character appeared to be, she at least stabilized a feeling of friendliness and honesty to everyone.
Lottie couldn’t help the large grin that came over her face, and she jumped up and down. “Oh! Oh, thank you!” She stopped, looking down at the ground and playing with a strand of her hair. “I don’t have many friends,”
Lilith arched an eyebrow, pursed her lips, and considered this. The childlike expressiveness catching, she straightened her back and boldly stated, “I don’t, either. But I have at least one good friend, now. So that should be enough for me.”
After a moment she relaxed, sending Lottie a smile, a tug of expectancy and dependency pulling at her heartstrings, reminding her of her beau, “I should probably be going, I am afraid…” she decided to add on, and relate to her new companion that, “I am supposed to meet Nicolas later this afternoon. You should meet him, Lottie.” her eyes sparkled with the light of a young girl in love, “He’s absolutely wonderful. And…” her mind automatically translated into terms easily understood before she said to Lottie, “I believe he loves me.”
My Dorky Diner Boy“I don’t have many friends,” Lottie told Lilith truthfully, the confession making her a bit nervous. It's not my fault, I don't think...we just never stay in the same place very long, and I don't get to go out much...but I think Mama trusts Helvaband more, and that's why she lets me go out and have fun more often. I trust Helvaband, I know I do. Even if I don't know anybody except Drake, Lilith, and Sterling the Phoenix. Even if there's a witch running around here somewhere, waiting. Even if Helvaband is really Magyck after all. I feel safe here. Mama always makes us leave when I start to get too close to anybody...I hope she doesn't do that here, I don't know what I would do if I have to leave this place...
I won't. I won't leave Helvaband, even if Mama wants to. I won't leave. I'll run away. I'll...but I can't, what about Mama? I need Mama, and she needs me, and she'll worry so much if I run away, and I hate to have to see her worried eyes every day anyway...I couldn't do that to her, could I
But could she do that to me? Could she really take me away from here when she knows how much I like it?
“I don’t, either," came Lilith's voice, sounding sure of herself. Lottie looked at her curiously, wondering what had happened to make the younger girl sound so confident. "But I have at least one good friend, now. So that should be enough for me.”
Lottie grinned widely at this. "Me too!" she announced loudly, nodding her head for emphasis. Yay! My second friend in Helvaband! Or third, if you count Sterling...but I don't think I count Sterling as a friend, even though he is. He's more than a friend. He's Magyck. And he protects me. He's more of...a guardian. He's more like Mama than anything else, really. But Drake and Lilith are my friends.
Or is Lilith my first friend in Helvaband? Because Drake is more than a friend too...or at least I want him to be.
“I should probably be going, I am afraid…” Lilith said after a minute, making Lottie pout openly. "Aww..." she whined, a hint of a smile threatening to break through the surface of her disappointed face. "I guess that's all right. Where do you have to go?"
“I am supposed to meet Nicolas later this afternoon. You should meet him, Lottie.” Lottie watched as a change came over her new friend, the look in her eyes softening as she said, “He’s absolutely wonderful. And…I believe he loves me.”
Lottie's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, an reverent smile coming over her face. "Oh," she said quietly, her tone a mix of delight, awe, and envy. Lottie had very little idea of what it was like to be in love, her only experience coming second-hand from conversations overheard with Mama and her friends. The whole concept seemed foreign and wonderful, like a dream world you long to return to night after night. "Oh, you're so lucky..." she whispered. Lottie looked down for a moment, embarrassed by the question that threatened to burst from her lips at any moment. I can't help it, I don't know anything about love, Mama doesn't ever talk to me about that and it's like she thinks I'm never going to fall in love and get married and I don't know why and...
"What's it like? To be in love, I mean?"
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“I don’t have many friends,”
Lilith arched an eyebrow, pursed her lips, and considered this. “I don’t, either. But I have at least one good friend, now. So that should be enough for me.”
Lottie grinned widely at this. “Me too!” she announced loudly, nodding her head for emphasis. Lilith smiled warmly at her companion.
“I should probably be going, I am afraid…” Lilith said after a minute, making Lottie pout openly.
“Aww…” Lottie sounded so saddened by this, it made Lilith giggle. “I guess that’s all right. Where do you have to go?”
“I am supposed to meet Nicolas later this afternoon. You should meet him, Lottie.” She knew she couldn’t hide the vibrant sparkle in her eyes as she spoke of him. “He’s absolutely wonderful. And…I believe he loves me.”
Lottie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, an reverent smile coming over her face.* “Oh,”* she said quietly, and there was so much contained within that singular word that a thousand words wouldn’t do it justice, nor explain it to full capacity as well as that word. “Oh, you’re so lucky…” she whispered. Lilith blushed prettily, and both of them looked down at the ground.
“What’s it like? To be in love, I mean?” Lottie finally spoke, sounding so eager, so ready to understand. Lilith’s eyes softened with compassion.
“Oh…” she sighed, wrapping her arms around her waist to hold in the sensation of her lung bursting out of her chest in her happiness, “It’s as if… as if everything you see is prettier. It’s as if you’ll never be sad again, even if you know you will. You feel as if you won’t be sad again because you’re sure you’ll never be alone, like before. And in your heart you know that being angry with each other, yelling, crying, none of it will matter, because there’s always the love there, filling you with a warm feeling and lifting you off the ground. You want to be yourself, but you always want to look your best for that person. You want to let it be easy, but you want to be really, really loved by that person, so you try and come across in the best possible way.” She sighed, “It’s like the hollow feeling you get on warm, sunny days with nothing to do and nowhere to be has been filled with this irrepressible happiness.”
My Dorky Diner BoyLottie Fitzgerald
“I guess that’s all right," Lottie told Lilith, not being entirely truthful but knowing better not to push Lilith if she really wanted to go. If Mama were there, she would have talked about Lottie being too eager and bothersome to Lilith. 'You have to learn where to draw the line, Lottie, and then learn not to cross it once there is a line to be crossed.' That's what she would say. Still, her curious mouth that often ran ahead of her mind couldn't resist asking, "Where do you have to go?”
“I am supposed to meet Nicolas later this afternoon," Lilith explained, looking delighted. "You should meet him, Lottie. He’s absolutely wonderful. And…I believe he loves me.”
For a moment, Lottie stared at Lilith in awe, not daring to speak for fear of breaking the spell. Love had always been a mystery to little Lottie--she had never had any friends her own age to giggle and gossip about it with, Mama never discussed it, and she didn't even have a father around so she could observe it. It was a strange complexity to her, and the fact that no one she knew had ever openly discussed the concept of love only served to deepen Lottie's curiosities about it. She has someone to love her...maybe she could explain it to me? Maybe? Oh, she looks so happy... "Oh," she breathed lightly, never taking her eyes off Lilith for a moment. “Oh, you’re so lucky…” When Lilith didn't reply, Lottie took it as an invitation for the question she had been biting back without much success to leap off her tongue.
“What’s it like? To be in love, I mean?”
Lilith wrapped her arms around herself with a sigh. “Oh…It’s as if… as if everything you see is prettier. It’s as if you’ll never be sad again, even if you know you will. You feel as if you won’t be sad again because you’re sure you’ll never be alone, like before." Lottie gave a slow nod, her brow furrowing in concentration as she struggled to understand something that seemed so magical and foreign to her. "And in your heart you know that being angry with each other, yelling, crying, none of it will matter, because there’s always the love there, filling you with a warm feeling and lifting you off the ground. You want to be yourself, but you always want to look your best for that person. You want to let it be easy, but you want to be really, really loved by that person, so you try and come across in the best possible way.. It’s like the hollow feeling you get on warm, sunny days with nothing to do and nowhere to be has been filled with this irrepressible happiness.”
"Thank you..." Lottie whispered, her mind overwhelmed as she tried to process everything Lilith had told her. "It sounds..." She sighed happily. "It sounds wonderful..."
But is that how I feel when I'm around Drake? I don't even know! I'm even more confused than I was before...
Lottie was about to ask another question when a familiar voice cut through the still, chilly air of the cemetery. "Lottie! Charlotte Fitzgerald, is that you over there? Where have you been?"
Lottie looked at Lilith in surprise. "It's Mama!"
Lottie by MasciiLilith Eytinge
“What’s it like? To be in love, I mean?”
Lilith wrapped her arms around herself with a sigh. “Oh…It’s as if… as if everything you see is prettier. It’s as if you’ll never be sad again, even if you know you will. You feel as if you won’t be sad again because you’re sure you’ll never be alone, like before.” Lottie gave a slow nod, her brow furrowing prettily as she tried to understand. “And in your heart you know that being angry with each other, yelling, crying, none of it will matter, because there’s always the love there, filling you with a warm feeling and lifting you off the ground. You want to be yourself, but you always want to look your best for that person. You want to let it be easy, but you want to be really, really loved by that person, so you try and come across in the best possible way.. It’s like the hollow feeling you get on warm, sunny days with nothing to do and nowhere to be has been filled with this irrepressible happiness.”
“Thank you…” Lottie whispered, and Lilith looked at her in surprise. Why was she thanking her? “It sounds…” Lottie sighed happily. “It sounds wonderful…”
Lilith’s lips curved up in a soft smile. There was so much more to it than the lofty sensations she had so inadequately described. But in it its turn, it all was made worth any tears. Interrupting their conversation of love was a female voice that called out into the quiet of the graves, “Lottie! Charlotte Fitzgerald, is that you over there? Where have you been?”
Lottie looked at Lilith in surprise. “It’s Mama!”
Lilith’s eyes widened, “Your…?” She turned to the approaching woman, and a little smile came to face even as her throat started to constrict. “Good day, Ma’am. I’m afraid I’m the one guilty of keeping your daughter to long. It’s been a long time since I’ve made any friends as sweet as her.” Her eyes started to sparkle, with amusement and tears. I miss my mama, too…
My Dorky Diner BoyLottie Fitzgerald
Even watching Lilith describe what it was like to be in love filled Lottie with happiness, as if some of her new friend's joy was rubbing off on her and filling the air just like she said it did. It didn't even matter that Lilith's words were confusing her just as much as they were delighting her, because they were so pretty to hear and imagine. She gazed in wonder as her mind tried to make sense of all the words meandering through her head as Lilith went on. "You want to let it be easy, but you want to be really, really loved by that person, so you try and come across in the best possible way.. It’s like the hollow feeling you get on warm, sunny days with nothing to do and nowhere to be has been filled with this irrepressible happiness.”
“Thank you…It sounds…It sounds wonderful…” Lottie breathed. There was nothing else to say.
Lilith smiled then, and seemed about to say more when the silence was broken by Mama's unmistakable voice calling for her, just enough uneasiness in it to let Lottie know that Mama had been worrying about her. And I'll bet she doesn't like it in here too, with all the graves and the dead people. I don't mind it, though. It's quiet. It's a good place to think.
“It’s Mama!”
For some reason, Lilith looked strange at Lottie's words--surprised, or maybe even scared. Well, that's silly. There's nothing to be scared of. It's just Mama, after all. It's not like it's the witch. A horrible thought seized her then, causing her eyes to widen drastically--what if it was the witch? Lottie didn't know a lot of about magyck, but it seemed like it would be easy for a witch to change the way they looked and sounded so that they looked like someone else. Like Mama.
"Mama!"
Lottie relaxed when she saw Mama hurrying towards them, the edges of her shawl streaming behind her from her haste and the chilly breeze. "Lottie, I've been--"
“Good day, Ma’am," Lilith said to Mama. "I’m afraid I’m the one guilty of keeping your daughter to long. It’s been a long time since I’ve made any friends as sweet as her.”
A smile came into Mama's always-worried eyes. "Well, I suppose that's all right, then. Lottie, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Lottie nodded. "Mama, this is Lilith. Lilith...I don't know her last name."
"Lilith. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Amelia, Lottie's mother. And I'm afraid the two of us have to be going, for Lottie still needs to eat her supper...But perhaps, Lottie, you could invite your friend to have tea with us sometime? Would you like that?"
Lottie's eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands frantically, almost unable to contain her enthusiasm. "Oh yes!"
"All right then. Say goodbye, Lottie, and we'll be on our way."
"Goodbye, Lilith," Lottie said with a broad smile, her fears all but forgotten. She walked forward and wrapped her arms in a tight hug around her friend, giggling at the difference in height between the two. I'm so little. "Goodbye!"
With that, Lottie took Mama's hand firmly, and together they walked out of the cemetery, back towards home.
Lottie has left the Cemetery.
Lottie by Mascii
