Skeletons in the Closet

[Sylvie Ciel]

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Table © Frost
Sorry it took so long, lovely!
WC: 486

The wind blew soft, but chilled, biting at the collie yearling's skin like thousands of needlepricks with each gust. Thickening, soft lilac fur did little to combat the chill of winter's grasp, and Sylvie found herself preferring her more compact canine form over her long, slender optime form these days. What had possessed the gypsy to be traversing about in that humanesque form today was unknown, and as she padded into a graveyard at the border of Dahlia de Mai, footpaws freezing in the frosted earth, she sincerely questioned her sanity. The overgrown border along Flanders Fields seemed to shrink away from the gypsy as she entered, carefully stepping over deadened roots and grabby thorns, gazing in awe at the once grand stone structures around her.

Some were natural stone, piled atop each other to take the form of tombstones, saints, and other human-influenced paraphenalia that truthfully, Sylvie knew little about. And so the real reason for her arrival at this place becomes clear- sheer curiosity. Human civilization had become one of her favorite things to discover these days- from a strange bangle she had hidden away in her frequented cave to the large carved stones around her now, Sylvie had become rather fascinated with the stuff. She paused before a large statue of the Virgin Mary, rising out of the ground as if watching over the dead and their graves. Vivid violet gems sparked with interest as one creamy paw reached up to brush away some of the offending growth upon her cracking form, once clear alabaster stone darkened with age and weather.

"Poor thing..." She said absently, not grasping the concept of the Virgin's presence or even her significance. To the caramel beauty, this massive statue was no more important than those around her, despite her commanding size. Religion, God, these things were foreign, and had they been known before, likely would have been discarded after all the things she had seen with those wizened eyes. Being thrown into the ocean with nothing but yourself and a plastic ball as a boat... it tended to do things to a religious belief. Sylvie sighed at the beautiful statue, before turning to survey the rest of the gravesite.

Though some tombstones had fallen, cracked with storm-weathered faces, washed clean of whatever might have once been written on them, they did not seem chaotic in their destruction. Rather, combined with the creeping plants and wild grasses, they added to the age of the place, the wizened beauty that Sylvie could relate to. Several larger statues (though none as big as the Virgin Mary) dotted the landscape, some missing parts or lying on the ground, fallen, like their tombstone relations. A somber, solemn place really, but brimming with a beauty, ethereal in vocation, that left the vagabond female speechless. Perhaps she would bring Alaine here one day... the pair could both relate pretty well to the unusual atmosphere...