Supernatural Academy (An Advanced RP) discussion

"Cemetary, cool and quiet
Hate to leave your sacred lay
Dread the milky coming of the day."

The local graveyard is a chillingly quite place, where the white mist hangs low to the ground. Even in high spring, the trees stand bare, their sharp and thin branches swaying in the breeze. The grey stone-heads litter the ground. Some are so old, that their owner's name are worn away.

The petite blonde figure that entered the boundaries or the graveyard saw immediate changes in her cool demeanor. Her expression lit up at the prospect of raising one of the bodies to hear the many stories they had to tell, or just to see how pretty the fresh corpses looked. There'd been news of a girl who'd had the misfortune of being ripped in half, to which had been reported as an animal attack. The idea of having stitched the girl back into one piece reminded the blonde creature of the thread in her thighs, holding her legs to the rest of her body.

The short feminine figure searched the graves like a hawk, deciding on which to raise by how fresh the flowers were. It usually meant that there was more tragedy, or that the family was far too functional to be real. The excitement she held was evident in the crooked grin on her lips, and the light in her eyes. She kept herself busy, seeing as she had much to expect from her family in the coming days.

Oh look, a little girl. How cute. These were the musings of a shadowed figure, who watched the female hunted the lands of the graveyard, her eyes bouncing from head-stone to head-stone. He stood by the naked trees, darkness hiding him. He leaned against one of the tree’s thin trunk, his icy blue eyes piercing into the girl’s back. He knew his kind when he saw them. Little girl going to raise something…

The shadows that kept him hidden curled, as if they didn’t like the idea of another necromancer. But the man purred hushing words, and the shadows calmed. But he was finished with them now. With a click of his fingers, the shadows faded, slipping away from his body. When moonlight hit his pale white skin once more, he gave a dark smile. It was only a matter of time before the girl noticed him. This will be fun…

((I'm gonna disappear, because I gotta go shopping with the moms. I'm waiting on her right now))

The blonde froze, eyes narrowing for a moment. She cast her gaze around her, preforming the beginnings of a cursory examination. She was sure she had felt a presence, eyes on her back. It could be that the hunters had started yet another excursion to expel creatures from the world, and this would mean that she had to keep her guard up, lest she end up truly dead.

She turned in the direction she felt eyes from, searching for the owner. What she met were two icey blue oculars, ones that contrasted deeply with the red of her own. She frowned, head cocked to the side. She stood still, but in a manner that exudes confidence. Who is he? rang clear in her mind. If she had a heart in the proper place, the cadaver's hollow space would be filled with a thunderous beating.

"Can I help you with something," she called, watching carefully.

((It’s okay. I understand. :) ))

The mad continued to smile. He marvelled at the blonde’s question, tilting his head to the side like a bird. His eyes still bored into hers. There was something wrong with his eyes – they were too cold, too distant. They were the eyes of someone who was not in their right mind. It was clear of that. You could almost see his thoughts whizzing around in his head through those eyes. He reached his hand up, and pulled his hood down, revealing his raven black hair. Even though he liked to wear his hoodie, he thought it rude to have it up while talking. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice was warm, comforting, something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him. “Can you?”

It started out as a short chuckle, but then grew and grew hearty and long. He even doubled over with the laughter. He laughed and laughed until tears ran down his high cheeks. But as suddenly as the laughter began, he stopped and his back straightened. His smile was gone – his lips were set in a straight line. His eyes remained cold, and even though tears still stream down his face he didn’t whip them away.

((Back~))

At the start of his laughter, the blonde being took it upon herself to inspect the man cautiously. There was a sort of familiarity, a kinship of sorts that didn't involve the blood relation. This drew to the conclusion of his species. The usual connotation of knowing what he was would have provided comfort, if he didn't somewhat reminder of a family member that had broken the appointed familial laws and was punished by being ripped to shreds. She'd had a front row seat, mostly because she took part in it.

Shaking the thought of, she focused back on the man. His laughter gave off the hint of a contagious nature, to which the female necromancer was infected with. Stifled giggles bubbled in her throat for a moment, before dying down. The shift in mood was sudden, especially for the younger of the two to understand. She rocked back on her heels, contemplating an answer to give.

"I think it depends on what you need," she replied after a moment, shrugging softly.

The air around the male necromancer was stiff. The final tear dripped from his eyelids, and he cleared his throat which was sore from all the laughter. “Well, I think the first thing you can do for me is tell me your name,” he continued. He sidestepped around her and continued to walk towards a grave-stone. He brushed his hand on the rough, grey surface of the stone. He squinted, trying to see the name written. There was none. It must have worn away a few years ago. A forgotten soul, he thought, shaking his head. The poor thing. He’ll be perfect. He snatched his hand away from the stone, and turned back to the young blonde, not daring to lean against the grave-stone. He may be many awful things, but he was always respectful for the dead.

((Sorry it's so short. I'm tired.))

((S'okay~))

Morticia-Casketine contemplated giving out her name to the strange. While he was indirectly a kinsmen, there was something about him that gave him off to be untrustworthy. It took a psychopath, or at least a deranged mind, to spot someone of a like mind. Lips pursed, she considered her options: lie or tell the truth.

"Morgue Anne," she replied, deciding on giving out her mother's name, "Morgue Anne Graves. And now I'd like to extend the same assistance to you." She turned back to him expectantly, brows raised and expression exuding curiosity.

"Ahhh," he breathed, seeming surprised. "A Graves. I've heard of your family..." He did not elaborate further. Instead he cocked his head back a little in thought. He had never heard of her, though. A Morgue-Anne Graves. He blamed his memory - it has been pathetic since he returned. But soon his memory will go back to normal... or that was what he hoped, anyway.

His head straightened up when the youth asked a question of her own. "Hydrus," he said, but did not give out his second name. He thought second names were petty things, especially when he had such an unusual first name. That, and there's the fact that he preferred to be somewhat secretive.

Morticia-Casketine nodded, blonde strands of hair bobbing with the movement. She averted her gaze to the grave closest to Hydrus, taking note of the lack of a epitaph. The headstone itself was weathered and old, faded in color from years of storms and drunken graveyard parties. Drifting back to the moment at hand, she continued to keep a steady flow of conversation.

"Where are you from," she inquired, more so concerned with small talk to keep him occupied as she prepared for what might happen, "My family is from Poland."

“Britain, London...” Hydrus said, but his voice sounded dreamy, as if his mind was elsewhere. In truth, he didn’t live anywhere – or, at least, for the past three hundred years he hasn’t lived anywhere. He wondered how much his city had changed in all of these years. More then likely it would be unrecognizable...

He shook his head, trying to stay more focused. He saw Morticia gazing upon the gravestone beside him. His eyes snapped from her and to the gravestone, his eyes challenging. “Do something,” he demanded, gesturing to the grave. “I want to see what you’re capable of.” Let’s see how powerful these Graves are...

Morticia-Casketine fell into a stupor for a moment, taken aback by the sudden request. She frowned, her lips puckering down into a pout of reluctance. If he was as she knew, and she wasn't one to be easily tricked, for someone to know of what her family could do was without need of words. Pursing her lips, she shook her head.

"No, you first," she retorted after some thought, "You know my family, but I haven't heard of you." That could partially be a lie, as the name rang true in her memory, but was a distant word that just blurred.

"Even more interesting," Hydrus said, starting to circle around the grave-stone in a slow stride, as if it would help him think. "I ask you to go first, then you reply that I should be the one who goes first. The only reason that comes to mind why you would ask that is when your concerned. Are you concerned about my magic?" He stopped his pace, and looked at her, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "Or am I wrong, and your only being polite? If it's the latter, then this conversation has just gotten very boring."

"There isn't so much a need to be polite as there is one to be cautious," Morty replied, regarding Hydrus' walk around the grave, "I'd expect that you'd have heard about the hunter in town. Survival of the fittest appears to reign supreme now." Lips pursed, she awaited his response, readying herself mentally for any hostile reactions. There was something more off about Hydrus than there was to her, and she didn't like it.

Hecate walked into the graveyard, she turned away from the people nearby and went over to a large headstone with a stone dragon perched on top of it. She knelt next to it and bowed her head and put her fist over her heart. "Small One," she said in dragon tongue, "I have come once again to thank you for saving me from the asylum. You will always be honored by me."

Hydrus opened his mouth to reply, when the sound of shuffling footsteps caught his attention. His head snapped to the direction, and saw yet another girl, this time a girl who appeared to be bowing to a stone dragon. He groaned, irritated. “I hate people,” he said to himself. “Especially weird ones.”

Although, he really couldn’t judge.

His attention turned back to Miss Graves. “Fine, then,” he said, his face still showing annoyance from the dragon-lady. But he shook his head, his face returning to a blank slate. “What do you wish for me to show you?” His hand hovered to the grave-stone, and once his fingertips rested on the cold stone they started tapping. Hydrus was a man who wither constantly needed to move, or could stand so still he could be considered a statue. Today he was twitchy. He’d been twitchy for the past few days. He wasn’t worried about it.

Hecate hissed under her breath when the boy nearby called her weird. "Don't judge me," she growled in dragon tongue and glared at the boy. She stood up and kept a few feet away from him, her dragon Tiny climbed onto her shoulder and hissed at the boy too. She put her finger over Tiny's mouth to hush her.

((Anyone rping at the moment?))

((I'm about to reply to Helen, but you could rp with Ivy))

((Ok, I'm going to read up))

"Anything; it's your choice," Morticia-Casketine responded, disregarding his prior comment on the female that had joined them in the sacred space. While she did somewhat agree with the statement, it more so had to do with the fact that people continued to talk and jabber on.

"Would it be alright if I called you Hyde?"

Hydrus eyes narrowed towards the younger necromancer. “No, you may not call me ‘Hyde,’” as he spoke, he put emphasis on the nickname as if it disgusted him. Quite frankly, if someone were to address him they should say his full name. "My name is Hydrus,” he continued, stating his dislike in monotone. “It was the name I was born with, and the name I choose to live with. There is nothing more or less to it. So, if you’d please do me this honour, do not call me anything else as I will do the same to you. And anyway, I like you name; your name sounds like it belongs with an arachnid of sorts...”

His attentions drifted back to the task at hand. With a hum of a off-putting tune, he turned to face the gravestone, tilting his head to the side. Deciding to play it simple, he trusted his right hand outward to the grave, his fingers out-stretched, his tune coming to a conclusion. Shadows suddenly appeared, swarming and turning around his hand, ducking behind his figures and brushing against his wrist. They then started to slither to the ground, and once they reached the soil they seeped through it, continuing their travel downwards. When all the shadows were gone, an eerie silence befell onto the graveyard. Hydrus’s arm fell to his side, his eyes casted to the ground before him. He said to Morticia almost apologetically, never taking his sight off the ground, “This might take a while. Apparently it’s confused – or maybe it’s downright stupid. Either which.”

((I’m sorry for two things; for not reply for a while and for not being in character. I’ve been pretty busy lately, and I’ve been swamped with other RP’s. And because Hydrus is new, I haven’t discovered how he acts, thinks, talks, etc.))

Morticia-Casketine would have held her hands up in some sort of defensive side, had his not last comment regarding nomenclature caught her attention. She smiled, for the first time since her meeting him, faintly and shook her head. "I apologize," she responded, "I will indeed call you Hydrus. I'm just used to having people shorten my name." She shrugged, watching him silently.

Head cocked to the side, she took a step closer to examine his movements more closely. "No need to worry," she reassured, "It's probably the latter of the two choices. I'm sure you'll get it in no time."

((That's totally, love. I'm just glad I was the first to rp with him.))

Hecate took in the sight of what she just saw the boy named Hydrus do. She struggled to keep herself from summoning one of her bigger dragons because she would probably scare the people here with her. She ground her teeth together and shut her eyes, she rubbed her fingers against her temples and opened her eyes again. Tiny crawled down her wrist and into her hands, the small dragon stared up at her and she completely got lost in its dark green eyes.

“People don’t have a sense of taste,” Hydrus replied, his full attention still to the grave below his feet, “if they shorten names as unusual as yours. It’s more fun that way.” Finally, a hand shot from the ground, making dirt explode from all sides. The rotten figures stretched to the sky, flexing to see if they all worked. The rest of the undead body burst through its earthly prison, and as it rose the necromancer stepped back from the avalanche of dirt and weeds. He put his hands up, trying to shield his eyes. When silence followed after a moment or two, he put his hand down to marvel his creation. Rotten, grey flesh clung to its body, its eyes were no longer in his sockets so there were only two gaping holes, and tufts of hair sat on its head in bunches. It’s mouth hung agape, revealing all its decaying and missing teeth.

“About time,” Hydrus muttered. It was unusual to see a body so well preserved after so much time underground, so even though this creature was idiotic he was still happy with the result.

Morticia-Casketine, despite her better judgement, squealed softly with delight. Seeing a body preserved so well after the extended period of time it had been laid to rest was unusual, but a welcome gift. The excitement that aligned itself on her features were ever so evident, as well as the light bouncing that followed. Now, it was her turn.

If Hydrus knew of her family, he'd most likely know what the Graves were famous for: the dolls. However, there was also the side addition to their specialty, something that usually only used for conveniences like furniture. Taking the already raised body, Morticia snapped her fingers and watched as tibia and femur snapped in half.

The femur snapping thus rendered the moving cadaver lame in one leg, but still able to move around. However, the shattered tibia left him with a awkwardly angled foot. Her next course of action was the shatter every other bone that was left. The sound of bone crunching against bone was a delightful symphony to her ears.

Hecate looked up when the creature emerged from the ground, she regretted what she was about to do but she had no other choice. "Excuse me," she said in English that was accented in dragon tongue. "But do you think that you can try to bring my dragon back to life?" she asked the boy named Hydrus and gestured to the grave next to her with the dragon perched on the headstone. "It would mean a lot to me."

Hyrdus watched as the raised body slightly crumbled to the ground, it’s bones shattering into millions of pieces. Each bone snapped, making the body buckle more and more. His eyes showed no mercy, nor kindness towards the creature. He was certain the creature didn’t feel any pain – all his raised bodies never could. Why should this be any different?

As he watched Morticia’s work, the dragon-girl suddenly came up to him, asking for him to raise her dragon. His eyes left the body and looked at that girl, a eyebrow arched. Did he look like a charity shop, he wondered. But the thought of raising a dragon did sound exciting, and was something he had never done before. It wasn’t everyday you come across a dragon that was alive, let alone a dead one. Not to waste this opportunity, he turned to the dragon shaped gravestone and raised a hand. Shadows dripped and slithered towards the grave, diving down the soil just like the last time. As the necromancer’s hand fell, the soil bulged, and a skeletal head popped out. The reptilian head shook from side to side, shaking the dirt off. It slowly but surely clawed the rest of its body out. It wasn’t at all like the body he had raised – this body was a complete skeleton. “There,” he said, sounding unamused.

Hecate looked at the skeleton body of Small One and knelt down in front of her first tamed dragon. She put her hand on the dragons skull and smiled a small smile. "Beautiful," she said in dragon tongue. She stood up and looked over at the boy, "Thank you. I will repay you in any way possible," she said to him in English and turned back to the skeleton of Small One. The skeleton jumped up onto her shoulder and made a grumbling noise of happiness in its throat. Tiny jumped up onto Small One's shoulder and made a loud squeaking noise to show that she was happy too.

Morticia watched his exchange with the girl once she'd finished breaking down the raised corpse to a pile of flesh and broken bones. This was to be considered quite the interesting development, the curt manner that Hydrus had spoken of and to the girl only for him to do her a favor. Maybe there was something to be gained from the interaction with the girl. At the mention of the dragon, Morticia slid back into a similar memory, when her brother and father had been experimenting with different forms they could create from bone. Somehow, they'd gotten to that of a dragon-like creature. It had incited fear in her mother, but she had been greatly curious as to how they'd done so. However, they didn't bother telling her the secret to such a trick, claiming it would be too dangerous for the then twelve year old Necromancer.

Hecate turned to the other girl that was in the graveyard and held out her hand to the girl. "I apologize for not properly introducing myself, my name is Hecate. And I am a dragon tamer," she said and gestured with her left hand to the two dragons on her shoulder. "And you are...?"

Hyrdus mused over the little one’s words. I’ll repay you in any way possible, eh? Well, he would most certainly remember that little phrase for a later time when she would be useful. Having the help of a dragon keeper would come in handy. He looked to the crumpled corps, his eyes flashing with interest. She’s not half bad… he thought to himself. With each passing generation of necromancer, they became weaker. She was possibly the best he had seen in generations. He looked at Morticia, waiting for her reply.

((Anyone?))

((... Hello?))

Morticia-Casketine initially thought of returning to her primary nomenclature, only to realize that she'd put herself in a bad positioning with Hydrus. At this point, she was more concerned with not putting herself on the opposing side of a fellow Necromancer.

"Morgue-Anne Graves," she replied, not too interested in the girl, ot be quite honest.

Hydrus’s eyes shifted from the no longer moving carcass to Morticia for a few moments more before stopping at Morticia. “Do you know how to control shadows?” he asked, ready for her to decline. To his knowledge, no other necromancers could do that little trick, even though his family could. It must be a family thing... he thought. Like the Graves have the dolls... It seems all necromancers have little tricks...

Morticia tipped her head to the side, brows furrowed. She chanted her cranium lightly side to side, indicating the negative answer to the question. She'd never quite heard of such a thing. "I suppose you can," she stated, expression expectant.

"Pleasure," Hecate smiled a small smile and turned away from the two people. "I am afraid I have to go now, I will see you both another time, in this life or the next." She disappeared out of the graveyard.

((*see's dates of posts* AHH!!! Sorry, guys. I never got a notification for this.))

Hydrus watched through squinted eyes as the dragon-trainer disappeared out of the graveyard. He gave let out a sound mixed between a hum and a growl. He didn't like the fact that he raised that dragon for her, no matter how interesting it was to raise such a creature. He didn't like to preform nice acts, even though he won her favor for it. It was going against his nature to kill, to be cold and bloodthirsty. He was all of those things, but he supposed at this moment and time he needed to somehow blend in with everyone else, just like the shadows he controlled. He needed to seem... nice. The word sent fear into the necromancer's icy heart.

He turned his attention back onto Morticia, and a sly grin that only a fox would have appeared on his face. "Yes," he said. "Yes I can." Guess I was right... Little tricks, little tricks...

((S'okay Helen~))

Morticia-Casketine nodded silently, her gaze projecting her expectancy. If he could do it, he might as well show it. There was no way that she'd let him get off with just telling her. She'd learned that proof was key in any situation, especially when it involved the dead; they were real sticklers for detail.

"Is there something else that you can do, too," she questioned suddenly, something not sitting right with Hydrus' inquiry. It might have seemed harmless to begin with, but the blonde couldn't be entirely positive. The prospect of some odd tragedy occurring to her was a nagging force in the back of her mind, and growing.

It sent a slow rush up her spine that could partially be considered a sick sort of pleasure. She'd had her fair share of pain, and had experienced close to nothing for more than she cared to share.

Hydrus tilted his head for half a beat, then said, “Yes, I guess there is another thing I can do.” His craned his neck straight once more, and closed his eyes. There was no need for him to close them, though; he just wanted to feel the rush of his magic through his veins. It was a sensation he craved off of, like a smoker craved nicotine, and this time he wanted to savour it. He lifted his hand slightly, his figures reaching, and then the shadows started to curl.

The darkness materialized from the thin air, and started to curl around his figures just as they did when he wanted to raise the body from the ground. But this time they started to crawl along his arm, like a dog that was willing to do anything to please and get near to its master. More shadows started to claw at him, this time seemingly coming from the ground and twisting themselves around his legs. His own shadow – the shadow the was cast behind him by the moonlight, a thing everyone has – seemed to fade away behind him. Hydrus breathed it all in. The power exhilarated him. He took in more deep breaths in, and exhaled slowly, trying to keep this power in control. As fast as lightening, the necromancer turned and slashed his hand to a nearby tree, the shadows along his arm suddenly shooting out. They sliced through the bark like it was made of butter. The tree gave a moan and a eerie creek before half of it fell backwards. Leaves rustled and fell off the branches as the top of the tree hit the ground. Only a spiked stump remained rooted to the ground.

He twisted to Morticia and opened his eyes. They were a more shocking blue this time, as if they intensified with the power. The shadows still coiled around his legs – he was saving those for whenever he departed. “That impressive enough for you?” he said. “It’s quite a curious thing. I can control and contort my shadows as I please. Although all necromancers have a quirk to there power, don’t they?” He nodded to the body Morticia destroyed. He wasn’t able to break and shatter bones like that.

((Gimme a minute; I'm fangirling))

((Sea, could you check in on the Ruins topic?))

The urge to clap as though she were at a sporting event was strong in Morticia-Casketine. It might have been from years of having done so with family members, usually during a dysfunctional family reunion where one member of the family was bound to announce something that meant close to nothing to the blonde. They'd have little "talent shows," if they could have been called that. It was really just a display of power for the Necromancers, to put in place who exactly was the strongest, and as far as they were concerned, it was her father.

The electric blue that faced her now was a sharp contrast from her own oculars, but that's not what caught her attention and held it. The change had been drastic, and she was sure it was from the display of power, as if he were feeding off the energy of the shadows.

"You're certainly right there," she agreed, not bothering to spare a glance in the direction of the shattered corpse, "How old are you, exactly?"

₴єaTнёFїёпd puǝıɟ wrote: "((Gimme a minute; I'm fangirling))"

((Really? XD Over what? Oh, I need to go now since it's late in my time-zone. I'll reply tomorrow!))

Helen wrote: "₴єaTнёFїёпd puǝıɟ wrote: "((Gimme a minute; I'm fangirling))"

((Really? XD Over what? Oh, I need to go now since it's late in my time-zone. I'll reply tomorrow!))"

((Over how epic Hydrus is, like can he not. XD Seeya~))

((Naw, thank you. I am very flatter. Well, you know how much I love Mort. :3 And I've only just noticed that you didn't say "Moticia Anne" but "Morgue Anne". I apologize.))

Hydrus didn’t exactly know why the young blonde was so interested in his age, but saw no harm in telling her. “Four-hundred-and-seventy-two,” he said nonchalantly, as if everyone could live to that age. “Soon to be seventy-three.” He did not care about age. Age told you nothing but how long you’ve been on this Earth. There was nothing to be ashamed or proud of. It was just a number. So if anyone normally asked him his age, he would annoy them by saying how many days he had been alive. “172,739 days,” he would mumble in his monotonic voice, “and I’m still better looking than you. Go away or else I'll kill you.” That normally sent then to the hills. But he was supposed to be nice, wasn’t he?

He knew better then to ask the same question. For one, he had seen enough men get slapped by their females after asking, and for second, it was obvious she was not as old as he. It was then he noticed the colour of her eyes; blood red. He coaxed his head like a bird, a tick he has always had, and murmured, “How unusual...”

((Oh, yeah. It is Morgue-Anne. Get what I did with it? X3))

Morticia nodded, lips pursed before her brows furrowed at his murmuring. "What," she inquired, slightly taken aback by the phrasing. Was there some new deformity on her face? Or maybe her left was twisted oddly. It would have been helpful if she had something to reflect her image back to see what was so unusual about her.

"Is there something I should know?"

((No, I don't. Sorry. I'm not hip like that.))

It was unusual to Hydrus to see the girl look so concerned for her appearance, but said, "You're eyes. They’re red. I didn’t notice it before. It’s unusual. Sorry for thinking that.” The shadows around his legs flinched impatiently, begging to their master to slip away, to go elsewhere, but he did not react to them. He was enjoying this little conversation. It was interesting to see into the life of a Graves. He had heard stories of them – most of them very unpleasant. His curiosity got the better of him, it made him poke around to see how this family functioned by knowing how a member functioned. For a fleeting moment he wondered did anyone share stories about him, and the things he had done. There probably were. He did awful things; things that wouldn’t go down without a word or a whisper on the subject.

((It was supposed to sound like Morgan ^-^))

Her features slid into a formation that resembled relief. While her eyes were indeed an unusual blood red hue, she'd become accustomed to them. That is what usually happened when one stared at themselves in the morning in a mirror for eighteen years. They always stood out, and had her stand out in the crowd. There had been a period of time when her mother had suggested that the blonde female wear contacts to blend in with the humans as she did, and her whole family for that matter. The idea had been both appalling and appealing, but she rejected it when she'd found her way to the Academy.

Nodding slightly, her crimson oculars slid down to where she saw the shadows becoming restless. Her brows furrowed and her gaze returned to meet Hydrus' own. The silent question of whether she'd heard anything about him nagged at her. She'd be able to tell him that she knew plenty, but he may not expect the reaction. Maybe he was one of those people who enjoyed being loathed, rather than idolized by a sect of Necromancers who had had a history with being betrayed by their own kind. It also dawned on her that she would seem just that much more odd in his view, having grown up to the stories of a great Necromancer and quite possibly dreamed about the moment before her.

"There is something I would like to confess to you," she declared, deciding the theft of her mother's name had gone on long enough.