To know
One step at a time~!
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Name: Hyohana Kuromori
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Home: London
Species: Human / Neko&Fox
History: N/A
The tower bell rings a cold, deep echo, the rain drenched streets filled with the beating of frantic shoes, people scurrying for cover from the relentless rain. Children cry and groan, the heat and mist getting them antsy, uncomfortable and agitated. Trains and buses fly by unhindered as people swearing after them, the rain having made them miss their rides.
All this known from her window, though the night was dark as a black cat's fur.
A wistful sigh from her parted pink lips. Though she was not bored, she was far from busy, her finger twisting back and forth, against the single strand of long, flowing silver hair wrapped around it. Bright gold eyes drifted in and out of focus, looking back and forth around the ground below her mansion, far from her reach in many ways. Another wistful sigh.
Finally her finger released the tendril of hair, dropping lightly, soundlessly to her white dress-covered lap, in which a tiny pearl & onyx music box lay. She glanced down, her fingers gripping against it, pressed into the embossed design that pushed itself back to her fingertips. Slowly her hand moved, across, then up, till the cover of the box creaked open, and a single delicate blue ballerina came into view.
She lifted the box and dragged her hand along the bottom, till a key-like structure brushed against her fingers. She gripped it and turned it, again, and again, and again, till it could turn no more. Resting the box down on her lap, she released the key, and a soft, sweet, yet haunting melody filled the space of her dark and empty room.
Keeping the box in her lap neatly, she laid back, her hair spreading out in a halo about her body. Her eyes drifted down till she saw black, and only the melody was there. On and on the music box played, that was it's only job, and so it did it's job with all the passion that it could. As though it was playing out it's life.
As the song neared it's end, she heard her door creak open easily. Murmurs and grumblings intruded on her ears, and she furrowed her neat white brows gently. Easily a person made their way to her bedside, shadowing her form. He fumbled out her name, and her heart heaved lightly for only a moment. Opening her eyes, as the last of the music box's life rang clear, she looked to the man's twisted face, her voice light, sweet, and soft, but unwavering, and absolute.
"Say it..."
"My lady...we're sorry...your parents have passed away..."
Tittering Talks and Nice Notices