Ahaha! I have been so into Wolf Parade lately. The young boy that she would soon spot was very different and very similar, as they often were. Their mothers were caricatures of what one another could have been. A little less of this, a little more of that. Misery had killed one of her bad-omen children (bare hands, cold blood), and kept the other. Because that one, that sick, tiny girl had been a mirror of her own. It hung heavy in her head as she walked alone through the woods that were in some way, reminiscent of the one she grew up in. Ghosts and ghouls, floating in the branches and turning underground, they were a bizarre familiarity, or at least she could settle her skin to believe. Misery had disappeared entirely again, for all she could tell. Her scent was nowhere on the borders of Clouded Tears, and without a consideration to her death (because her mother was out of reach of such things—she defied earth’s laws and logic on a regular basis) Poe was left with the sullen conclusion that she had left without a word once more. She couldn’t be sure if it was her mother’s waned sanity, or the result of a consistently shaky and cracked relationship between the two, but it was the nature of their mother-daughter path no matter. A glimpse of what good might be, may have been there, followed by a long period of dark words, sinking guilt and nothing at all. At times, it was difficult to believe that she was not an overgrown orphan. Just like so many in Bleeding Souls. Poe slowed to a stop and watched the figure across the mist ahead, waiting for signs of life or illusion. He moved without the concern that was expected from one as young as he in such parts, but his footsteps were solid and his body seemed true. Without much thought as to why, she began walking in his direction and beyond, at an angle. Through the mist and trees, she began to come up by his side, but did not speak a greeting or give him any warning to her presence that he wouldn’t pick up by himself. Small and sure-footed, she wore the lower half of an Egyptian Princess dress, and a pale grey scarf as a top, hardly painting the picture of a typical ghost in these parts, but she wore the eeriness of the land just as comfortably. |