Little in Alonia (Open)

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia moved her hand away and put them back into the handbag. Everything she did seemed to make her look bad and she lowered her head yet again in shame. Hearing what the other woman said she blinked a couple of times, this stranger was indeed a poet and it sounded so beautiful when she talked like that.

Seeing that the blonde bookseller left a volume she picked it up and was about to give it to her when she noticed it was the one she had been looking at herself. She wanted her to have it? Being treated this nicely by this woman made Virgilia feel even worse for a moment, but she shook her head lightly and mentally slapped herself for thinking like that. Slowly happiness entered her mind and she found herself thankful for the other woman’s kindness.

Placing the book down into her bag she watched the woman collect her belongings. As always the princess wanted to help, but it didn’t really look like the lady needed it all that much so she decided to stand still.

But what happened now? The woman was obviously leaving for the day, which meant that she would be left on her own again. Hearing the stranger’s voice again made her snap out of her thoughts and she turned to the green dressed woman. She could come with her? Really? That was truly too kind of her, but Virgilia couldn’t say no to this offer. With a thankful smile on her face the princess quickly followed the light haired woman.

["Babs" Delton]

The average tavern in Alonia was not a purpose-made building. Usually, the term "tavern" was simply used to describe a home wherein the woman of the house would sell from a homemade batch of ale made in the cellar. A person walking the streets of the city would only need to spot a branch with tied-on leaves hanging from the roof in front of a house to know that the house was a tavern for the moment. The taverns were usually more for residents; they were a place to drink and for the worker to relax. The inns of Alonia, on the other hand, were the draws for foreigners for their rooms and thus, for finding a certain type of company. The taverns could be intense places at certain times of the year, however. During the local Hunting and Harvest festivals, virtually every home hung the branch and leaves. The nights were ruled by drunks and their misadventures during those two weeks of the year.

Segod's Cellar was a slight exception to how taverns worked. Somehow, the house had made high enough quality ale that sold well enough out of the cellar that "The" Cellar became a permanent fixture its neighborhood. As such, the cellar had been doubly tarred to avoid snowmelt leaks coming in between stones, a lacquered long table had been added to act as a bar, and several similarly lacquered plank table sets had been added. During the past year, on the occasion that Laura couldn't make the ten-silver rent of the neighboring house, Segod would have her spend the next few days carving out tables with ornate swirls and sweeping angles. As such, half of Segod's Cellar was furnished with carved tables. Laura dreaded the day she might end up spending a week or more carving out an entire bar. Once, she even had a nightmare about it wherein she spent so long carving and getting covered in wood dust that she absorbed the dust into her skin and became a tree. When she told the bald taverner about the nightmare the next day, he said "That don't sound so bad. We'd just hang you from the roof to tell people about us bein' a tavern."

Nearly up to the door of the tavern, where an iron-belt sconce kept a torch in place against the building, Laura tucked her bag and torches between the walls of her unmarked house and the tavern where they could be safe for awhile. She turned around, realizing that in this light, she could fully see the kind woman following her fully. It was as she had begun to think much earlier; she wore vibrant colors but the cuts of her clothes would have only been comfortable in Alonia's early autumn or late spring. Did this have something to do with the magic of half an hour ago? Laura smiled to see the woman's kind features as she put her ear close to the tavern door. Even though the tavern was really in the cellar, it was still possible to get an idea of the activity level. She could hear nothing, meaning that, more likely than not, there were few or no people drinking. Sometimes that meant a lot of sleeping drunks, however. Either way, Laura felt positive; as much as she liked watching the merry and the rowdy, she never cared for alcohol or its unpredictable influence on people.

"'The stands stand still, the still of the drinker man a sold, calm land in the seize of sleep,'" she quoted from a submission she once took from one of the regulars at the tavern. "I think it'll be nice here tonight." Laura grinned back, extended her arm, and opened the iron-strapped wooden door.

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia looked curiously at the place they were coming to. As a princess she had never been to a place like this and it woke scared, curious and exited feelings within her. Her mother had once told her that humans are afraid of what they can’t understand and what they don’t know. But still Virgilia had always found it good not to understand and know everything. If you knew what was behind the sky, how could you then imagine what it was?

The princess had been walking close to Laura all the time, though didn’t ever touch her. She would always make sure it was at least a couple of foots distance between them, though not much more as she was a little scared. She watched how the blonde woman put her belongings away and then made her way to the door, listening to the sounds coming from inside. Seeing how the bookseller seemed content with what she heard Virgilia found herself less tens and nervous.

After hearing what the other woman told her a smile made it’s way to Virgilia’s lips. She looked at the blonde woman’s arm for a moment and her eyes widened slightly. Biting her lip she stepped forward after a moment and took a hold of the other woman’s arm with both of her hands, following her inside.

["Babs" Delton]

Laura gave a gentle shove with her left left hand and the door opened, giving off its nearly signature squeal from its iron hinges. Just as Laura stepped up the step from the stone foundation, she felt light and deft fingers close around her other arm. Two of the woman's fingers closed just below the flared cuff of her dress' sleeve and above the top of her glove, gently contacting her wrist. Her touch felt soft and cool, and if there was a chill, it wasn't a magical frost on her skin but a slight tug and tightness in her breath.

She looked back. The woman who had her arm looked somehow nervous, her lip gently bit. Had she never been to a tavern before? Actually, Laura thought as she perked an understanding smile, not all taverns were managed very well. For a greater profit, yes, some taverns really did let themselves become a den of animals, but that wasn't a habit indulged at this one, she reflected.

Their path took them inside just a step before turning right towards the stairs of double-thick planks supported by thick poles. There weren't yet any rails and Laura always thought that it was another project just waiting to happen. As they descended, Segod spotted her, looking up from his bar a little longer than usual to consider the woman at Laura's arm. "Teatime," he asked with a snarky, sing-songy tone, his usual way of trying to taunt her into a bottle of ale. "You know it," she replied, showing him her best toothy grin before passing by.

Laura led them past two of the taverner's sons, talking at the bar, and the taverner's wife, plucking a tankard out of the hand of a low-snoring, bearded man who frequently told stories of how he lost such-and-such job, to her favorite table. It was the first she carved and as such, the designs she managed were painfully simple. She tried to carve in fifty different snowflakes on the round sides, but she only managed twenty. She tried to carve trees reaching up into a wintry sky on the backs of the chairs, but her early carving skill only allowed for nondescript sticks poking a few thorny snowflakes against the pine texture of the wood. She felt a little awkward about the effort at the time, so she coated the set in black lacquer instead of the cheery-wood brown she used for the rest of her projects.

Standing at one of her favorite places away from home, she said, "What do you think--oh, just a moment--" Laura reached into her dress' pockets and assembled the inkwell, pen, and a small stack of scrap papers, that as before, had handwriting errors on one side and blank surfaces on the other, on the table. She scratched one of the matches waiting next to the wax catch of a dirty brass candle holder against the stone wall and lit the trimmed, poking wick.

She almost spoke when the memory of the touch and the electric feeling that followed intruded on her thoughts for an unexplained instant. "My name's Babs," she started, tearing herself away from thinking about it. "What's your name?"

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia who held tightly onto the blonde woman’s arm and immediately started looking curiously around. This place held a smell she had never picked up before, but it kind of calmed her down a little. As the man looked up from the bar and looked at her she quickly looked away and moved a little closer to the woman next to her. His voice scared her a little but luckily it wasn’t directed towards her, but the green dressed woman who obviously knew how to answer smoothly.

As they continued walking she looked curiously at everyone they passed and couldn’t help but giggle a little at the funny people around her. Loosening her tight grip on the blonde haired woman’s arm a little she followed her until they stopped and then let completely go of her arm.

Picking up the pen and dipping it in the ink that the blonde haired woman had found to her, Virgilia listened to what Babs said before starting to write her reply.

‘My name is Virgilia and I’m a painter. You must forgive my rudeness but if I didn’t knew better I’d almost say Babs sounded like an alias.’ She stopped writing, partly regretting writing the last part though decided to continue. For a short moment she wondered if she should have added the fact that she was a princess, but decided to let it be, not wanting the woman to treat her differently because of her social status.

‘I truly cannot thank you enough for bringing me here, it’s simply too kind of you. This place seems very nice, I’ve never been to anything like it before.’ She slightly pushed the paper up a little. ‘Forgive me for freezing the pen earlier miss Babs. My kind is born with a natural cold skin and the ability to freeze small things though I was never taught how to control this.’ Deciding that since Babs had already seen some of the magic she could perform it was no reason to keep it a secret. On purpose she didn’t write that she was a vampire, knowing that most people didn’t like bloodsuckers and would try to get away from her as soon as they knew.

["Babs" Delton]

As the woman across the table wrote in silence, Laura spotted a word that looked like a name. She wanted to know her name--no--she wanted them to know each other's names; she wanted to think of the friendly customer of a short while ago as a friend and it was uncomfortable to imagine that without so much as a name known between them. While the woman wrote, Laura watched the pen glisten again, taking on frost. By the time the pen reached the table, it looked like it was made of rough diamonds.

Laura started to read the note. At the fourth word, Laura felt a tinge of excitement. Every curve of Virgilia's name had been even more polished and graceful than the rest of the writing. Laura liked to think that the strength with which one wrote their name showed how aware they were of themselves. As Laura read the next sentence, she realized an irony. When she wrote "Babs" on documents or on the rare collection signing, she always tripped her pen on the first B and the closing S would come out flat and slovenly. She smiled wide from nearly laughing; she did not fit her ancestor's name at all, not even in writing. She delayed thinking about telling Virgilia her real name while she continued to read.

At the end of the second section of the note, Laura felt her questions line up. The way Virgilia wrote of Segod's Cellar, Laura was reminded of some of her own thoughts when she first entered the tavern, almost a year ago, on her last ten coppers. She had walked the streets for two days straight by then, and so it wasn't hard to convince Segod that she was just a ragged commoner in a trashed, noble's dress. She used to think of this place from such a distance; was Virgilia really a painter?

The second question arose more naturally. When Laura wondered what Virgilia meant by "kind," she felt more casual about the question. Outside of the cities, creatures that defied the academic's logic were long-known and written about. Though she had never, at least until now, encountered a person with magic, she knew they existed. To see such a person, however, she felt a playful envy; if she could carry the cold of winter with her! Oh, but the things she would do!

She looked at the note from the beginning once more, refusing her want to imagine. She had to consider something carefully; would she tell Virgilia her real name? After giving it a few seconds of thought, she put the old scrap to the side, brought out a new one, and wrote (after giving the pen some of the candle's heat), "My name is Laura Veronica. I don't need to, and I don't want to, lie to you about that. Please, I only ask that you do not repeat this name to the people of this city. I know this may sound unusual, maybe even selfish, petty, or just silly, but I don't want the silks and servants to find me." The words that she was about to write felt so dead to her as she considered them. She thought that she wanted to write, or say, that she wondered if Virgilia was hiding a noble's background too, but releasing her identity, even to somebody who surely had never met the Deltons, made her feel as vulnerable as she had ever felt. It made her feel guilt, somehow, and exhaustion. She gave Virgilia the scrap and placed the pen at the middle of the table. She thrashed her feelings to get better again, to come back to the moment. Feel something, Laura Veronica Delton! Say something!

"Oh, there's nothing to forgive about the pen. I think it looks really pretty after you write with it." As she finished the sentence she felt the color drain inexplicably from her face. "Because the handle looks like crystals!"

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia looked at Babs as she started reading what was written. Seeing that Babs obviously had a lot of different feelings inside of her as she read, the princess immediately felt scared of having written something wrong. Obviously this woman had many questions to the princess, and this made Virgilia feel slightly nervous. If Babs asked her in more detail what she was and where she was from, she would never lie and then end up telling the truth she dearly wanted to hide.

With her time with this woman Virgilia had grown curious about her. She seemed to be hiding something just like herself maybe an interesting past or something else. The young woman seemed to read what she had written over again, and then think something over. Virgilia wondered for a moment what the woman was thinking about but then Babs found some paper and seemed to be writing a message back to her. Hadn’t she told the blonde haired woman that there was no need for writing since her ears was working fine, Virgilia wondered but then the idea hit her. Maybe she was going to tell her something she didn’t want the people around them to hear.

A slightly uncomfortable silence surrounded the two women as Babs was writing and Virgilia looked away from the woman, not wanting to peek on what she was going to tell her before it was done. She sat still, listening to the sound of the pen moving on the paper until it eventually stopped and she turned back to the woman, letting her eyes rest on the Babs’ face a little before moving down to the paper. Noticing how the woman seemed bothered by something she quickly took and read the note.

As she read she couldn’t help but wonder why Laura didn’t want to tell people her name, but of course she would keep it a secret. She would most likely not have to write it down for anyone and it wasn’t like she could tell anyone either so she couldn’t find any reason for telling anyone Laura’s name either. Still she started to imagine what the reason could be, maybe Laura was wanted and a criminal. Her eyes widened slightly at this thought though she quickly shook it off. Of course Laura wasn’t a criminal, Virgilia thought and felt angry at herself for getting such an idea in the first place.

Laura’s voice made Virgilia look away from the paper and then at the other woman. She noticed how something seemed to be out of place and didn’t feel better in any way even though the woman said not to worry about the pen. “Ba…” She quickly reached out to touch the other woman’s shoulder afraid that she was going to pass out.

["Babs" Delton]

Gripped in an illusive panic as she was when she spoke, Laura had trouble understanding the hand on her shoulder. A second passed, then another, and then she understood. She must have looked tired after the day at the stand, maybe worse after she felt the jolt of anxiety she had no explanation for. Maybe it was just the long day.

"Oh, thank you. Sorry...I must've looked faint. Long day," she said, her hand lifting an inch above the table towards her shoulder without any real meaning to. By reflex, she brushed the now-overgrown fringe of her hair out her eyes with her other hand and took a look to the bar. She could see her usual teacup next to another, vapor rising about the rims; it would still be a couple of minutes before she could have the tea. She jokingly thought that it was almost as if her mind and body were trying to act on their own. There was a tension she could not identify, and what better for that then her favorite drink in the whole of the Empire. She started to feel quizzical, lighter perhaps.

"So Virgilia, what brings you up to Alonia?" She thought of times when she traveled for no other reason than to take in new places, fill up on images and ideas for her pen to capture. "Looking for inspiration?"

[Virgilia de Artio]

After a short moment Virgilia removed her hand, obviously again afraid that the other woman would feel uneasy by her touch. She gave her a smile and then quickly picked up the pen writing something down on the paper. ‘What do I do when I just need a cup?’ was the only thing written on the paper as she pushed it towards Laura. Walking over to the bar and asking for a cup could be hard, maybe she could write it down on a paper and show the scary man what was written. But still the idea of not being able to reply and have a normal conversation with the man made her feel slightly anxious.

Then she turned to Laura as she heard her voice again. The princess nodded at what was asked and her smile widened. She loved to travel and paint what she saw, so that she could always remember what she had seen and think back on it with a smile on her face. Seeing new places and learning about new cultures was something she never grew tired of. She clasped her hands together and wanted to tell Laura about some of the most beautiful and moving things she had seen but just then remembering that she had to write that down as well.

Picking up the pen yet again she started writing a new message to the blonde woman next to her. ‘Maybe someday I can show you some of my paintings. They’re my memories of where I’ve been and what I’ve seen and is very dear to me.’

["Babs" Delton]

Laura had seen the careful elegance with which the nobility and beyond managed their expressions. Truly, she felt that there was a certain art to it. Virgilia's face, Laura thought, had all the 'definition divided by subtlety' that every noble desired. There were no shortage of ways Laura's sisters, mother, and lace-laden friends had tried to have or imitate such features. She could certainly see the desirability, but everyone seemed to think such features were only good for sticking one's nose high. Whatever painting meant to Virgilia, her seemingly whole-hearted smile brought her idealistically noble features into a completely different class of beauty. Laura felt confident that she had truly met another artist.

Laura switched her attention to reading the two notes before, she quickly feared, she started to look like a daydreamy fool such as she was often called while growing up. Reading one, she only felt more washed with excitement by the enthusiasm written on the paper. She checked the first one next.

"Well, there are some signals used around here when it gets loud, but most of them are just ways of telling the taverner that you want more of what you already have. I'll...well, I could ask for an empty cup when he comes with the tea. I think he's making two, though. Do you like hibiscus tea? Oh! And if you ever need somebody to look at your paintings when you come into town, I'd love to. I'll try not to get rid of what I make so I can at least show you something in return," she finished, starting to smile sheepishly.

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia looked at Laura as she waited for her to read the notes, but then saw that the other woman seemed to be spacing out. This made Virgilia chuckle lightly, the other woman was surely cute when she did that. Raising her hand to wave it in front of Laura’s face, she saw that the blonde woman turned her attention to the notes and then let her arm fall back to her side.

Truly paying attention to what the other woman told her Venetia gave a couple of nods, at first she wanted to ask Laura what kind of sign you gave to get more but then figured that she would probably end up seeing it later anyways. Grateful that the other woman could ask for a cup for her, she smiled broadly yet again, nodding at the question about the tea. She loved drinking tea and usually only drank it at home so tea would always remind her of Bernkastel and her parents. The next thing Laura said made Virgilia’s eyes shine with enthusiasm and yet again she picked up the pen to write an answer.

‘That would’ve been wonderful. I simply can’t wait to see some of your paintings. A person’s paintings can always tell you a lot about that person and as your friend I want to know as much as possible about you.’ Hesitating a little she pushed the note back to Laura, not sure if she should’ve written the last part.

(Oh and Delton I've sent you a PM by the way ^^)

["Babs" Delton]

Laura read the note held out in her right hand resting on the table. Her eyes lingered on it; Laura doubted the words, but there they were, in gorgeous letting and strong order: ...and as your friend I want to know as much as possible about you. It reminded her of being young, when she would ask to be friends with the children of the visiting gentry after playing around the estate for only a couple of hours. As an adult, she accepted that the world of adults was much more complicated for some reason. As she hoped to make many long-lived friendships, people tended to be less and less interested as time went on. And yet, here was somebody who seemed to slice right through whatever it was that divided many people. Maybe, Laura thought, she read too much into it, maybe it was a formality, but she hoped that the words were serious in the heart of their writer.

She let the note rest on the table and she made to pull her hand back. As she did, her exposed wrist slid along a patch of splinters hiding in the black lacquer. It had been dark enough before she lit the table's candle that she didn't even notice that somebody had pounded a dent into the surface at some point, driving the stiff splinters up out of the coating. One barb, made up of several little splinters bound tightly together by the coating at their base, sank in underneath Laura's wrist with a breath-stealing sting. Reflexively, her teeth slammed together and she pulled her wrist up with a small "ah" of shock.

The barb had buried itself just a finger's width away from the tensed artery. A dot of purple had already started to collect under the skin. After a breath, however, Laura felt fine. She would have to pull the splinter, but one of the used scraps of paper would be more than enough to cover the hurt for the minute or two it would take for the bleeding to stop.

"Whew. I apologize. I think somebody--" Laura raised her voice and looked at the taverner, "--let one their customers get carried away with my old table." The taverner said something under his breath and Laura shook her head casually. Trying to remember what she meant to say to Virgilia, she pulled the blackened splinter and dropped it. A small crimson pearl surfaced on top of the purple underneath the skin and, still putting her mind back onto the track it was on, Laura reached for one of the scraps from her small pile.

[Virgilia de Artio]

Virgilia’s body froze as she both smelled and watched the blood coming from Laura’s wrist. Her pupils turned small and she found herself slowly loosing her mind. A small bottle of bear blood was lying in her handbag, and the cup she had asked for was to help her drink it. Avoiding the need for human blood wasn’t that hard for her as long as she got to drink animal blood trice a day and didn’t have to see or smell human blood outside anyone’s skin, but at this moment she was in huge need for blood and most vampires like her couldn’t even dream of keeping their control in a similar situation.

Her hand shot forward and grabbed the other woman’s injured arm locking it in a hard grip. “ah…” The vampire sighed deeply as she moved Laura’s hand closer to her own mouth. By now Virgilia had bared her teeth revealing a couple of huge canine teeth and her eyes had turned burning red. At the same time something inside her was fighting to regain control but seemed to be loosing the battle. It was also possible to see that she in fact didn’t have a tongue in her mouth. When the other woman’s wrist was just a couple of inches away from the Vampires lips she opened her mouth a little more she was just about to bite Laura’s wrist but then suddenly pushed her away, letting go of Laura’s arm.

Her hair covered the princess’ eyes and her face was dark not letting anyone see the current expression on her face. Clutching her head she let out a painful scream and then started making her way out of the place, pushing away anyone and everything on her way. Opening the exit door with amazing strength making it slam into the wall she walked out disappeared from sight.

["Babs" Delton]

By ancient human instinct, Laura tried to pull away from the glistening canines that neared her wrist but she could not get an inch away from the otherworldly grip. When Virgilia let go of her, Laura fell backwards in her chair. Against the floor, the breath slammed out of her lungs, she heard a scream that forced her arms against her squeezed-shut eyes. Next to her, she heard Segod hit the ground with a painful grunt accompanied by the sound or cheap porcelain shattering, splashing out hot fluid against Laura's exposed cheek. While the tea burnt her cheek red, stools cracked against the stone floors with cups and tankards shattering. The steps up from the cellar cracked, the floorboards above strained, and then the sound of the front door exploding out into the night echoed throughout the tavern, each sound making Laura cringe more and more.

For a long moment, Laura didn't move or think. Slowly, she pulled open her eyes. Through the space between her arms, she spotted Segod's leg. She turned. Segod was struggling to breathe. Two shattered cups covered the inches between them. Laura pushed herself out of the chair, porcelain chunks dragging on the stone as she righted herself. "It's one'a them," Segod said, just finding his raspy breath. Laura helped him up and he scrambled over to the other side of the destruction where his sons laid sprawled next to the stairs in a groaning heap. Segod's wife took the opportunity to rise up from behind the bar. The drunk was awake, blinking his sagging eyes as he looked around, mumbling. Although now standing, Laura felt glued to the spot, a piece of porcelain cracking under her snow-soaked boot.

*** *** *** *** ***

Laura locked the door and then barred it with a wooden beam that she left next to the door, all in the dark. She squeezed on the handle of the dagger Segod had given her as she finished with the door and walked over the stones to the desk where she kept her matches and her candles. She felt rotten for thinking it, that she wasn't safe. The truth about her half-timber home was that the locked door was worthless. Sure, it could keep out a normal person at the door, but after seeing the shattered remains of Segod's door...

Laura lit one of the tall, tallow-made candles, stabbing its base into a brass holder out of the tavern. Normally, she thought of her home as minimal, a place where she could daydream, work, and lucidly sleep without distractions. Now, shadows wrapped around the desk, bed, and stones of the floor. She imagined knives and claws deftly going through the wattle and daub walls, reaching for her. Her home now simply felt like a place of dark inevitable murder.

For moments, she tried to relax. She folded her dirty surcoat and dress away, untying the collar of her chemise and putting on an old worn gown. She poured a dish of water from the house's magically-powered tap. The water in Alonia's pipes tended to be snowmelt from the mountains, and so the water was modestly infamous for a high content of dirt in the commoners' pipes; Laura had long learned not to care and she especially didn't care tonight. As she washed her face, she tried to escape into the feel of the icy water from the Stygian feel of the dark. The water, however, dotted her wrist, feeling like icy needles against the growing bruise. She looked at the slight purple forming along her hand and wrist and for a moment, her mind made her see Virgilia's face again, fangs still with intent, eyes burning like blood-covered embers. Laura tore her arm away from the vision, knocking the candle down onto the stone, shrouding her in the still and black of the room.

Laura didn't light the candle again. Ignoring it in the wetness under the tap, she found the dagger in the dark and sat down on her straw mattress. Sleep felt completely out of the question. She would hold that dagger and wait: wait until she passed out, wait until her reason returned, or as her fear beckoned her, wait to see if Vampires could see in the dark.

[Virgilia de Artio]

After getting out Virgilia continued running away, not wanting to be close to anyone at the moment. Trying her best not to ruin or break more on her way she eventually ended up in a small street corner. No one seemed to be outside in this part of the city and she could finally let herself fall down into the snow. She was breathing heavily and felt weaker than ever as she reached for the blood in her handbag. After fumbling for the bottle for quite a while she finally dragged it out and opened it, quickly drinking all of what was inside it not managing to let anything remain to the next day.

She let herself stay in the snow for a while as she felt the energy slowly return and her mind finally cleared up. Just then the memories of what had just happened fell back on her and her eyes widened in horror as she remembered. The worst thing that could happen, and what she had feared the most since she met Laura had happened. If she’d only asked for the cup earlier, or just not cared about it and drink some of the blood right from the bottle she would have been able to avoid what had just happened.

Curling up in the corner she sat still in the snow, looking at her now bare feet. On her way she must have managed to loose them, but right now she didn’t have a clue of where they could be. Virgilia was an extremely naïve girl, and still now there was a small hope in her that told her to go back and fact what had happened. It told her that Laura hadn’t been that bothered by what had happened and that she wouldn’t look at her with hateful eyes the next time they met.

Slowly she stood up and started walking back, remembering where the place were. As she stood up, she noticed that she must have sprained her foot as well when she ran. This made each step painful but it was nothing that she couldn’t handle, Virgilia told herself.

------- ---------------- --------------- -----------

Virgilia could still clearly remember the smell of Laura’s blood and this eventually led her to Laura’s home. She raised her hand to knock on the door, though stopped, hesitating. After standing like that for what felt like hours she finally took a deep breath and knocked carefully at the door.