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Post by theodore parker on Jul 8, 2010 16:35:29 GMT -5
“Bonjour, Elle,” Theo said softly as he sat next to the grave of a young teenage girl he once knew. She was as well French, and had taken care of Theo when he had first arrived at the orphanage. In a way, she had been the motherly figure he never had. With a few wildflowers in his hand, he stroked the petals with a small smile. “I’ve missed you a lot,” he said in English, but the French accent his English Uncle had tried so hard to rid of still audible. “I hope you’ve been well… I know I should probably visit you more, but a lot of things have been happening…” Sighing softly, he placed the flowers by the headstone that had her name etched on it. Letting his gaze drift around with the graveyard, a sad frown twisted on his lips. Normally Theo was better at being optimistic, but all these graves were in such poor condition, unfitting for any of the children here who had endured so much torture. He had been lucky to arrive at the end of it all, but he still managed to lose a few friends. The boy hadn’t had much else to do today, so he thought he’d at least pay Elle a visit.
He remembered the first time he had come to visit her… It had been so frightening walking through the graves. For awhile he had wondered if the children underneath the dirt might crawl out like zombies and that fear caused him to never come at night. Now after all his weekly visits he had become a little more at peace. Sounds occasionally made him jump, but he had learned to control his racing imagination. Leaning back of his hands, the smile formed on his face again. “I’ve been making more friends, Elle. Unfortunately, you’d probably not like how all the children are on two different sides nowadays… “ Knowing her, she would have probably thrown a fit about how everyone was so divided now. He himself, wasn’t keen on the idea and would rather be neutral to it all. The idea of killing anyone out of revenge made him uncomfortable and he knew some of these children wouldn’t want to be honored with blood. Nonetheless he was forced to pick a side, and in result he was loyal to the Aristocrats…
As he parted his lips to continue, he was cut off by a sound. Glancing around, he didn’t pick up anything with his blue eyes. When he didn’t hear the sound again his attention turned back to the headstone. “I think the wind is trying to creep me out,” he spoke to himself with a childish pout. Even at the age of fourteen, he hadn’t grown up much with his actions. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Sebasian Darcy on Jul 11, 2010 12:55:15 GMT -5
It was so dull here. So painfully, oppressively dull. The graveyard was one of the most changeless parts of the orphanage. Even the rebellion and resulting war of the two sides had not touched here. It was as if the other children feared to tread in this place. Did it remind them too much of their own, very real, mortality? Or did it make them sad, and remind them that they were nothing more than children, frightened and wanting comfort, after all?
Sebastian certainly did not know. Who was he to wonder at the mysteries of life and death? After all, he himself could not even figure out how to pass on properly! It was shameful. He wasn’t any good at anything in life, and he wasn’t any good at being dead. And he really was a dreadful ghost. He wasn’t scary or powerful or anything that he was supposed to be. He was even less powerful than he had been in life- and that was saying something.
All he could do was float (or, this close to his bones, properly walk) around and mope. The only break in the monotony came of watching the occasional visit of the children to the headstones of their dead friends. And even then he rarely hung around. It felt rude to Sebastian to listen in on other people’s prayers and conversations with angels. Too intrusive into what, by all rights, ought to have been a deeply personal thing.
So when another young man appeared, Sebastian made his usual decision to make himself politely scarce. This was a familiar face, actually. He came about once a week or so, always to the same grave. A girl who had died after Sebastian. He’d never known her, though he knew of her grave, as he knew of all the graves in this place. He had begun trying to keep the place clear and free of weeds and dry leaves after he noticed the other boy taking an interest. It only seemed a nice thing to do, and within the bone yard, completely in his power.
He passed by the boy as he began to sit down beside the grassed-over earth. He was already speaking to the dead girl, first in French, and then changing to lightly accented English. Sebastian hurried his pace to leave him alone. Unfortunately, in his haste, he created a soft breeze. It played over the boy’s back, stirring hair and made the boy shiver.
”I think the wind is trying to creep me out,” he laughed nervously. And, of pure reflex, Sebastian paused and gave him a quiet, “Oh, I apologize.”
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Post by theodore parker on Jul 11, 2010 14:12:53 GMT -5
Theo froze as he heard someone reply to his comment. The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up and he tried to recall seeing anyone else wandering through the graveyard earlier. Biting his lip, he attempted to convince himself that whatever was behind him wasn’t scary. His imagination was just going crazy with the ideas of ghosts, or zombies, or even the theory of day-walking vampires. He had to be realistic. There were no such things as supernatural creatures. The voice didn’t even sound all that threatening. It was child-like and had actually apologized for causing the breeze. How dangerous could an apologizing child be? Taking in a deep breath, he relaxed his muscles which had tensed up and turned around to see a child. A small smile of relief crossed his features, happy to see the boy’s body wasn’t floating off the ground. Looking him over for a moment he was a little surprised he didn’t recognize his face. Normally all the younger children had a habit of wanting to play with him or take advantage of how caring Theo was of every living thing. Turning around so he was facing the child, he tilted his head curiously. He wouldn’t expect to find someone his age here in such a creepy place.
“It’s quite alright,” he began warmly, “You just surprised me,” Looking around for a moment he wondered if the little boy had come here by himself. Had he strayed away from the garden and gotten lost? Someone was probably worrying about him. “I’m Theodore. What’s your name?” he asked with the same gentle smile on his face. The last thing he wanted was to frighten the other boy away by making him feel like he did something wrong. Little kids were always skittish… at least most of the ones that were living at St. Anne’s Orphanage. It made sad when he saw children around this boy’s age. For some of the older children’s at the orphanage it brought enough anger and hate to kill adults and torture them as they had been tortured. In Theo’s case it simply broke his heart and he could feel an immense amount of empathy for them. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked as he pat the spot next to him, “I normally don’t have much company when I’m here,”
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Post by Sebasian Darcy on Jul 11, 2010 15:57:03 GMT -5
He had been about to brush right on by, heedless of the boy who was surely heedless of him, continuing on his path without a second thought. Because nobody would hear him or notice him. Nobody ever did. Except for this time, apparently. Because the boy spoke. And not just to the spirit of his fallen friend or to himself, but to Sebastian. Wait, what? That couldn’t possibly be right…
He froze in shock. People so seldom realized he was there at all. To be noticed, to actually be spoken to… well. That was something new and different, to be sure. “Y-you heard me?” he asked obviously, “You can see me?” Wide, pale eyes stared at the boy for a long, awkwardly lingering moment.
Of course, he might not have been so staggered. People occasionally did see him. He was nothing but a few paces from his final resting place (an unmarked and hasty spot beside a bent and twisted crabapple tree). Aside from a slightly sickly-looking washed out appearance, he would seem completely normal. Maybe a little too light on his feet (he wasn’t quite touching the ground, after all, but one really had to look to catch that). But it was mostly children very young who saw him. Nine was probably the eldest. And then they mostly just stared and said nothing. This boy looked only a touch older than Sebastian had been when he’d died.
But then, he did seem slightly clueless. He must have been rather odd to see Sebastian and automatically assume him totally normal. Or, at least, normal enough that he did not ask what on Earth he was. In fact, he seemed to think him… human. Live human.
The ghost opened and closed his mouth a few times, before stammering on, “I-I… that is… what I mean to say was… I thought I’d been too quiet.” He glanced out the corner of his eye nervously. This boy thought him normal. Maybe if he could keep him thinking that, then he could have someone to talk to. That would be ever so wonderful.
“I’m Sebastian,” he hurried along, “Pleased to meet you, Theodore. And, um, don’t mind me. I’d hate to interrupt your, um,” he gestured vaguely to the gravestone, sounding embarrassed.
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