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Name: Kitty | Gender: female | Posts: 15 | Roses: 10
Old 02-11-2018 at 05:32 PM
Wandering Child
Opera Performer

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Roaming Dungeons
(Performer Is Offline)
 Post [88]

Jacob Inkstone

Jacob stiffened. The sounds were not the usual trickle-drip of water or dusty echo. They were vowels, words, a woman's voice. At first, it was a tumbled swirl, a noise strung together like teeth on a necklace, and he had to slowly, carefully, unthread them to loosen it into a sentence.

He wanted to pretend this was a ghost, and that she was speaking to another and would soon disappear. Slowly, he swung the penlight, quickly snapping it out of the way before it could hit her face -- never aim at the eyes, his sister had often shouted at him about that. Long, long ago . . .

It was difficult making the woman out in the darkness. He tried to remember the face, perhaps having seen her dance or walked past her backstage, or had one of his skulls admired (though pretty and like wisps of pastel, the corps de ballet could be ghoulish sprites), but, no, nothing stirred at his memories.

He was taking his time, trying to form the things he was thinking into words. His tongue was heavy, and throat like a knot.

'Don't be afraid,' was the first thing, though that might be strange, might even make her more afraid. He'd fallen through a hidden revolving door once, in a theatre in Britain, straight into a dressing room, and been beaten with pillows and slippers by the shocked dancers. No, definitely not that, it always made him look suspicious.

There was something near her. A dog. Jacob smiled. He loved dogs. Sometimes they loved him back (though often when he had jerky in his pocket, which he didn't have right now). He knelt down and held out his hand.

"H-Hello. Nice to meet you." It felt a little easier saying it to the dog instead; his tongue did not trip so much. "I'm Jacob -- I work backstage."
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