lifestyles of the {TALON} open minded.

[prim]

Prim ran her fingers through the black cats fur as she walked back towards her home, the little orphanage on top the hill. It was dark, the moon covered by dark clouds so that the only light came from lamps – but even they were a little spazzy today, flickering on and off. Prim found her steps quickening, her shoes clicking on the pavement the only really sound in the night – Prim did not like the dark, and the way the lights flickered on and off was causing fear to grip her hear like an icy hand. No. Prim did not like the dark – she was terrified of it. Only the cat in her arms, purring softly at her fingers kept the young woman from sprinting the rest of the way home. Yes, terrified was truly the appropriate word to describe the quickening of her heard and feet, the widening of her pupils, and the clamminess of her skin.

Suddenly, the cat in her arms tensed, and leapt, her claws digging deep into Prims arms and drawing blood before she was gone, tearing down the pavement in the opposite direction to what they had come. Prim, now more scared than ever, but also in pain, fell to the floor and sat on her haunches, wrapping her arms around herself whilst she collected her thoughts to the point where she could plan a form of action, and not just run. If anyone could see her now, they would find her funny, her actions strange, scared by a flickering light a yowling cat. But the only people who could see her where the people she knew, and they already thought her strange and a little eccentric.

Before her, something flickered and prim looked up, scared what she might see. But there was nothing there, a trick of the mind perhaps. Still, it was enough to make her stand and back away, turn around and head the other way. She soon stopped however when she saw a small boy stood in front of her in the middle of the road – a little boy whom she did not know. She stopped, frowning.. There was something... strange about him. Whilst she pondered, the boy pointed at something down an alley and ran, disappearing from her view.

Living in an orphanage, Prim knew of runaways and couldn’t leave the little boy alone, even if it did mean going into the dark, smelly alley, where the walls were close together and would get only closer the more she followed – prim swallowed and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, and followed.

He was gone however, by the time she reached the alley, and she frowned, glancing around. Deciding he must be hiding further in the alley, she ventured deeper, towards a dustbin that was the only hiding place in sight. Sure enough, as she rounded the side there he was, huddled against the metal. She smiled, and crouched, holding out her hand – but the boy only huddled further away and pointed at something behind her... and vanished.

Prim fell backwards, surprised, and felt something cool pass her shoulder. She turned her head and screamed, scrambling away from the figure behind her, backing into the corner the same little boy had occupied only seconds before. She shut her eyes, but she could still see the man, disfigured, ugly, and holding a knife – she had heard the stories of the towns ghost like all children had... but she had never expected to see it.

WORDS! 583
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon, the meanie.
NOTES! nothing to say
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

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[prim]

Though her eyes could see the ghost – no. Not a ghost. Ghosts were impossible weren’t they? As impossibly as the black eyed man who had set her parents house on fire, but she refused to believe that the figure wielding the knife in front of her could be dead – could still try to cause harm even though it was dead. All her life she had been taught that the dead where not to be feared; that the living were who you had to be truly afraid off. So yes, even though her eyes could see the ghost as clear as she could see her hands in front of her face, Prim refused to believe what she was seeing. It was simply a mad man, who had surprised her, and there had never been a little boy. These where the only things that could make sense to her confused mind right then, her mind that was so easily confused when things were not laid out in order, in a way that made sense.

This thought was only cemented in her mind when she felt the cold steel of mans weapons slice into her arms, held in front of her face in an attempt to protect herself. She whimpered, trying to squash herself further into the corner, curling into herself – human instinct taking over as she tried to make herself as small a target as possible, though any second she expected to feel the blade again, slicing through her skin. She hid her head in her lap, covering her head with her arms and cowered – Prim was far from a fighter and one of these people that literally would not hurt a fly if she could help it.

Even as Prim expected her life to end (though somewhere in the back of her mind she was mildly surprised to find that your life did not flash in front of your eyes when you were on the brink of death after all) the blow never came. She dared a peek, to see if the man was still there, if he had changed his mind, but he was gone. There was no one there – but then she heard footsteps, heavy footfalls that were getting closer to her in prompt to hiding place. Though if anything, common sense told her that now would be the best time to run, prim found her muscles unable to move, frozen in place by the fear running like ice through her veins. Her entire body trembled as a man ran into view.

She couldn’t make out his features, not that she tried, of the alley was dark. But he was definitely male, and he was talking to her. It took a moment for the girl’s confused mind to make sense of the words, but when she did they were like a key to her locked limbs. Suddenly, she could move, and she scrambled to her feet, looking for escape. Prim was small, barely over five feet in height, and she knew that if this man in front of her decided that in fact, he would continue from where the other had left off, she had little chance of trying to fight him off.

The stone was cool against her back, the steel of the dustbin beside her cold against the slightly exposed skin of her arm, each a constant reminder that she was essentially boxed in, with only two ways to run. Straight into the man, who was accusing her of not being a little boy (which she thought was kind of obvious, somewhere deep in the part of her mind that was still trying in vain to make some sense out of her non-sensual situation) or she could run in the direction she presumed the man with the knife had run. At this moment in time, none of her options were looking good, neither yelling at her to pick them. It was perhaps this reason that her feet remained in place though her head turned trying to work out her plan of escape, her route to safety and the police, or the comfort of her bed back home, buried deep beneath the covers.

But this decision too was ripped from her when the man with the knife appeared again, behind the man in front of her. There! She yelled, pointing, not in a dissimilar fashion to his own exclamation.

WORDS! 731
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon, the meanie.
NOTES! nothing to say
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

Prim’s eyes widened to almost impossible width as her eyes strained against her own terrified thoughts, against her need to run and to cower, to fly away from here as fast as she had ran all those years before – even if then she had not run quite fast enough. Now her eyes opened to let in the available light and look the man in the face, this form in the face and see her own death come towards her not unlike the way a rabbit will watch the light before its own untimely end.

Whether it be fortunate or not, she view was blocked as the man before her span and slammed back into her, pressing her against the wall and forcing the last tendrils of air from her breath and releasing them into the world, far out of her grasp. The stone was cold and cool, wet through her thin jumper – a strange thing perhaps to notice when you find yourself suddenly very close to another person, close enough to crush your lungs and ribs against a wall and the side of a bin. A bin whose metal cut into her side, creating a pain that was almost cleaning, spiking through her confusion and the fogginess of her mind, and letting her see somewhat surprisingly clearly that the man before her, was not a man but a ghost. And then that too clarity was lost as something further happened, and Prim found herself no longer just uncomfortable but in serious pain as the dumpster bit into her skin and any traces of air left in her was forcibly pushed out. Prim struggled to breathe, catching only from the corner of her eye the disappearance of the other man – the one not currently crushing her now.

She had seen it earlier, him disappear, the same way the little boy had, and perhaps for the first time she saw how maybe, you had to believe before you could see. But the thoughts were lost as the man in front of her jumped away and prim fell to her knees, gasping for breath and wincing at the pain in her side, and the numerous scratches she knew would now be lining her back from the abrasive brick wall. She dreaded to think what slime now coated hr back – perhaps strange thoughts for a girl who may or may not have just been confronted with her death, but not one had ever accused Prim of being Normal.

It took her a moment to catch her breath and to slow the adrenaline in her system before she clambered to her feet, clutching her side. She lifted her shirt, ignoring the man in front of her for a second whilst she examined the skin and let her heart slow – now the danger was past so had her need for running, and she had come to the conclusion that the man in front of her had been as scared as she, and possibly therefore might not want to kill her anytime in the near future. Still, she felt his gaze and looked up, meeting it only for a second before the old fear clutched at her heart and chest, and she looked away, past him, beyond him, at the wall on the other side of the alley and answered his question.

She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together – the kid? Where they related? No, she realised. That kid had dressed in clothes older than her own (and that was saying something given her somewhat vintage wardrobe), maybe he had been what that man was? Now clarity of pain had gone too, she was doubting the reality of her ghost theory, and the way this man was studying her face was unnerving. The moment of peace ability, of being sure he might not hurt her, had passed, and once more Prim found herself wanting to run.

He... he... he disappeared She told him, directing her words to the wall beyond his head. Who are you? What was that? Why do you care about that boy? She asked her questions, but she did not expect answers. She dealt with the feelings and the thoughts that swam around her mind by asking them, and often most people ignored her.

WORDS! 709
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon, the meanie.
NOTES! nothing to say
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

The last thing Prim was expecting, was answers. They weren’t great answers, far from being literate and grammatically correct of course, but given the situation and what happened to the pair in the previous few minutes, they could be forgiven for sitting on the alley floor and sobbing, let alone being a little incoherent when it came to answering the young blondes somewhat babbling questions. When it came to the hysterical stereotypes often associated with women in tense situations, they could do far worse than choosing Prim as a poster child – even if some of the more traditional symptoms, the screaming and such, where lost to her. Still, having grown up in a place where most her questions were ignored, what often what she had to say was taken as childish nonsense, Prim had grown to never expect answers, or belief... or indeed much of anything to come her way.

It might be safe to say then, that when this man, or boy, she wasn’t so sure now anymore, answered she was a little surprised he spoke back – so much so that her mind now struggled to pull back the questions he had answered, but she had dismissed them from her memory almost as soon as the words had left her mouth. Perhaps not the greatest of habits to have or indeed maintain, but you might agree, not one born without need.

Still, what he was saying took a moment to register in prim’s mind, and a moment longer for the girl to register the meaning of what, at face value, might appear to be nonsense, the ramblings of someone perhaps escaped from somewhere he should not. It took a moment longer for her to gather her nerves and decide what to make of the man/boy stood in the dark light in front of her. Floating through her mind and spinning much above her head where all the new questions she wanted to ask, jumbling together into nonsense the girl could barely register as real, never mind formulate into sentences and words. She dismissed them, pushing them to the back of her mind as she thought on what was the true importance right now.

If, and this was a big if mind you, for now the ‘ghosts’ had gone once again she was beginning to doubt their existence in the first place –perhaps some bad cheese she had eaten, and this was all a nightmare- if these ghosts required help, and if he was truly there too, what had he said, ‘lay them to rest’ then she would help. She recalled with near perfect memory the face of the young boy before he had disappeared... the very reason she had followed him into the alley in the first place. His features had been turned into ones of such terror, such fear, that no child should ever be forced to make that face, to feel the fear that caused them. She had made those faces herself once, a long time ago, so long it might almost seem like a lifetime before... and it was a look and fear she wished no other person to ever have. She had followed him into the alley to help... and if the man boy in front of her also wished to do the same.... well she would try anyways.

There, it was decided, and the girl looked up, the decision burning in her chocolate eyes. ”Okay” She said, a half smile lingering on her lips. ”If you think you can help him... them... I can help you.” . Prim straightened, picking a piece of rust from her jumper and pushing up the sleeves of her jumper to make sure that no more blood made its way into the fabric... she likes this jumper, and the blood already there was going to be a pain to get out, let alone mend. ”But first.... I want to know who you are.... and why... and how... I mean.... how you knew about them-” She motioned to where the ‘ghosts’ had disappeared ”-and i want to know why they attacked us.”

WORDS! 684
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! So sorry it took me so long! I'll be quicker next time, promise!
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

Prim bit the inside of her cheek, and shrugged a little. You might guess that having her questions answered for a change had a similar effect on the girl as turning on a tap, and she faltered a little at the intonation of his comment, the reason behind his words. Still, she nodded her head, a small curt bob of her blonde curls and watched him walk, pausing for a moment before following at a somewhat slower pace. His legs were longer than hers, his strides took him farther, and Prim was not ready to run after him. Well, at least not yet... though if another manic knife wielding ghost appeared out of nowhere, you’d be hard pressed to see her for the dust.

So instead she followed along behind like an obedient lap dog, though you’d get a slap if you made such a comparison aloud, and listened to what he had to say, surprised somewhat at the detail he was providing, when really she would of been happy with talon, and I kill them, or something along those lines of conversation. Perhaps somewhat strangely however, Prim did not feel the need to offer so much information in return, should he ask for it. Still, perhaps her name would be polite... though she was getting the vague impression that maybe this guy didn’t like talking so much. Or maybe just her – she wouldn’t it past him.

When he paused she caught up with him, quickening her pace enough so that she was at least walking next to him rather than training behind. Whilst he spoke, for the most parts Prims interjections were limited to nods of her head and a mumbled ”okay” as the girl watched the pavement move beneath their feet. She did look up though when he pointed to the house – the very place she had been heading that night, her home, the little orphanage. Her steps faltered for a second. There had been tales of a ghost running around that place for as long as she could remember, but no one had ever seen or heard anything; it was a story told to little kids to scare them into bed tonight. When she had first got there, someone had told it her, and she had spent the next three weeks top and tailing with one of the older girls.
”We... won’t need to break in” She said, running a few steps to make up the distance she had lost in her falter. ”I mean..... That place is an orphanage, and I have a set of keys to the office.” She didn’t go into why she might have such a set – let him wonder about it if he wanted, but she often helped out now she was older, sorting the kids files and helping them get settled the same way someone had once done for her. It was one of the main reasons she was still allowed to live there rather than being moved into a halfway house – that and the few actual beds in such places.

Prim, now with a destination and purpose to her stride, started walking a little faster, partly in a way to defer any questions, partly to put the alley further behind them, and partly because it was cold. Mostly however, because if the ghosts were originating from there, it could possibly put the children in some form of danger, and that was not something Prim was going to allow to happen. After all, they were in many ways, her only family.

Sure, it was a little farfetched, but for the petite blonde this night was certainly moving at a crazy pace, and her imagination was having fun working over time, even if she didn’t necessarily appreciate it. She kept looking over her shoulder, to see if the ghosts where there after all.

WORDS! 641
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! Told you i’d be quicker this time
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

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[prim]

It was no surprise when he caught up with her quickly, Talon’s legs were longer than her own, and to be perfectly truthful, it wasn’t like she had expected to leave him in the dust. If anything, she was surprised he had fallen behind at all, though no such thoughts registered on her features – she was not one who generally gave away such things visibly. It had gotten her into trouble when she was younger, and although she still asked questions like she had... they were not of the same sort. No, Prim did not show most outward emotions easily unless she couldn’t control them, but right now, as she worried about the other children she knew would be asleep, or reading comics, or of Lisa who could very well be asleep in Prim’s own bed right now, she looked outwardly a lot calmer and more collected than she felt. She wasn’t sure of course how long this might last... her porcelain demeanour had fractured several times tonight already in the alley after all; it would not take much for it to shatter completely.

”No” Prim said, in answer to his question, though thinking back over it she might see how he might get that idea. Suddenly, for a reason she perhaps did not understand, she felt like she should at least offer him some explanation... he had tried for her after all, and chances were, he could be as undetermined and confused about her as she was him. ”I mean... every kid in the orphanage is told about the ghost boy in the attic... it’s like a rite of passage to spend a night up there. But... as for them being real? As for seeing it out here tonight,” She looked sideways at him, her eyes brushing his gaze for a mere second before she turned to look ahead once more ”No, I never knew about any of this.”

By this point they had reached his car, not that Prim would know any of this of course, and she made as if to swerve around it – the orphanage itself was now only a brief walk away, the files he wanted a few minutes more once they found them in the office. Then hopefully, she would wake up in her bed and imagine this whole entire thing had been a nightmare as such. ”If i’m being honest, i’m still going with this whole thing as being a figment of my imagination, and i’m going to wake up in bed in a moment, and vow never to watch horror movies before bed again.”

She realised then how much she was prattling on, and possibly how dumb she sounded compared to the tall blonde man next to her, who seemed to know so much about this stuff already. Part of her wondered how he could stand it, how he put up with it – if she was brave enough she might have asked, but Prim was far from brave, she had learnt that many years ago.

WORDS! 503
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! Told you i’d be quicker this time
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

No. Prim believed him. She was just, as a psychiatrist might say perhaps, displacing her fear into action, and she’d freak out about it later. Or convince herself it was dream. Maybe she’d pay a visit to her therapist, if the old coot was still alive – she hadn’t been to see her since she was 12. Maybe that was what was wrong. Maybe she had been mugged, and her mind had come up with all this... If Prim truly dwelled on it she would quite likely go Crazy, lose her fragile mind to paranoid delusions about the men with black eyes again, only this time with ghost accomplices. No. Prim was not handling this well, because she was refusing to handle it at all really. In the set expression on her face as headed towards the Orphanage, Primrose Thatcher was concentrating on what she had to do, help this man/boy who was rummaging around in the boot of his car, and make sure that the other children, her family, were safe. Sometimes, prim could confuse herself as much as she could confuse the people around her.... it was no wonder many, many who remembered the fire at least, sometimes gave her a wide berth. Not that she ever noticed.

She was somewhat surprised however when he strode out in front of her – she had said nothing about his other comments, had simply let them register in her mind without comment, but now he was asking a direct question, and there was no way of fobbing it off without an answer. ”Primrose Thatcher. Prim.” She answered, though perhaps not going into as much detail as he could have... and then thought against it. He had offered detail, and already she was beginning to feel guilty about not offering some in return – she just wasn’t one of these people who could be like that... she didn’t have it in her. It was with a soft sigh then that she answered any further questions he might have, answering as they reached the door to the orphanage and slipped the key into the lock. ”And I have a key to the office because I live here, and I have since i was seven. So, no snooping through my file.”There, he was told, and she opened the door into the big house.

It was big... but not for the twenty or so children and staff that lived there. It was late, and most of the kids would be asleep – prim glanced at the clock, - hell, even the social workers would be in bed now too, whichever one was scheduled to stay here tonight. She couldn’t be sure. Either way,. She pressed her finger against her lips, the universal sign for silence, and closed the front door behind Talon. The office was only a few paces away, conveniently labelled with a black stencil across the glass window of the dark wooden door. It took her only a moment to find the key and push it open, letting them both in.

WORDS! 504
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! I moved it on a little, is that kay?
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

Prim knew this office like the back of her hand, so well so fact that even in the gloom cast by the outside lights and the gentle glow of a computer not quite shut down, she knew where everything was. She could tell you for example that her file was tucked away in the filing cabinet on the far left, fourth drawer down, stashed away with the other ‘problem’ files (which the kids whom were not included in this category jokingly referred to as the lifers) and sub divided Alphabetically. Yes, there it would be, safely under T for Thatcher, the edges worn from years of being flicked through, and tucked away within the yellowing pages, and amongst the newspaper clippings, a single, singed photograph of the girl with her parents. She had had it in a frame for a while... but for the last five years it had been in her file.

Prim pulled of her hat by one of the fluffy bear ears and tossed it onto one of the desks, running a hand through her hair to prevent some of the loose strands from sticking straight up. It crackled with static for a second, one she warded off with by touching the wooden desk, less she get a little shock when she reached for one of the metal drawers. Now she was here, however, the girl was a little lost, and not sure why. She knew her way around the files, but those were the files for the kids who had been here as long as she, who had arrived and left during her time – it had been a guess when she thought they would be here – but they could just as likely be in boxes in the attic.

She was pulled from her thoughts when he spoke, and she found herself returning his smile somewhat. ”Sorry, ”She apologised with a small shrug of her shoulders as she made her decision and started opening the drawers with the older files in. A quick scan however told her that this wasn’t right, they only went back as far as 1990, and she was pretty sure the tale had been round for a lot longer than that, so she slid it closed again. ” Some of the files are on there, but most are hard copies. Nothing as far back as what were looking for though – i mean, my files too old to be on there. We only use it when people are adopted, or move to a different home. ” She had no idea why she was telling him this, but now her otherwise idle hands had something to do, now she felt somewhat useful, her mouth seemed to be moving quite quickly.

She turned, and unlocked a cupboard, pulling open the doors to reveal rows of boxes. She pulled one out, and began rifling through... closer. The dates weren’t right, but they were definitely closer. ”Hmm? ”She looked across at him again, and pushed that box back to find another one, sitting cross legged on the floor. She knitted her eyebrows together, frowning slightly. ”Strange er... observation”She commented, tucking a stray peace of her blonde hair behind her ear. She thought back to the little boy... there had been something strange about him then indeed, his clothes she realised now – it was older than most of her own clothes, and she chewed the inside of her lip as she thought about it, right then she was just looking for older records... knowing a date would probably help, yes. Eventually, she answered. ” i’d say late Victorian – but her... don’t quote me on that.” The left side of her mouth twitched in a brief smile, and she stood up, dusting off her skirt. ”These boxes have got some of the older records in them, ”She said, glancing at the door. ”So, if you wanna start looking... but i think there might be some more upstairs – I’ll go grab them. ” She headed towards the door, pausing in the frame for a second to tell him she would be right back, and left, running up a flight of stairs. She paused at her bedroom door as she made her way towards another set that led up to the attic, and pushed her door open. Sure enough, a little redheaded girl was fast asleep in her bed. She walked in, and stroked back a lock of the girls red hair, smiling softly to herself. There. That was the reason Prim had wanted to help, the little seven year old buried beneath her covers, the closest thing she had to family.

She left a moment later, once a small pink bunny had been carefully replaced and she had removed her blood stained jumper, and Primrose Thatcher made her way up the stairs into the attic, stepping only on the outside edge of the stairs to ensure her feet didn’t make too much of a creaking sound on the old wooden planks. Once safely inside the attic, she found the boxes she was looking for quickly enough, blowing the dust from their tops to check the dates. Wow... some of those were truly old – Prim had never realised how old this building was, or indeed how long it had been used as an orphanage. She had no clue what it had been for that, but, from some of the pictures stashed up here, it looked like it had belonged to a family. She blinked, and coughed slightly on the dislodged dust, straightening from her crouched position to look at one such photograph, wiping the dust from the surface. What she found however, was a surprise, for looking back at her from the old, stained photograph, was the little boy she had seen in the alley. A small brass plate on the frame proclaimed to the world the families name, and Prim grinned, picking it up. Well, this was a start.

Forgetting the boxes, she left the attic quickly, descending the stairs in the same fashion she had ascended them to show the man/boy in the office what she had found.

WORDS! 1018
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! I know it's long - if you don;t like anything i'll change it just got carried awaaaaay...
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

Prim watched the floor as she hurried back into the office, turning quickly as she entered to silently close the door behind her, the handle clicking back into place with the faintest of sounds. She still had the photo with her, tucked up under her arm, and now she turned on the spot once more, taking it in her fingers to hand it over to the man/boy who seemed to be raiding the filing cabinets near the cupboard. Well, if he hadn’t decided to look through the boxes, at least he hadn’t been looking for hers – after all, it was on the other side of the room.

She was a little surprised though when he took her arm, twisting her skin to show the thin line of the wound caused by the ghost mans knife. She quickly pulled her wrist back from his grasp, all too aware that the lines of blood that slashed across the back of her forearms also happened to cut through the scars on her left arm. She was never one to be ashamed of her scars, they were a testament to her survival, but she also knew that not everyone thought of them the way she did – such things aspired a range of emotions from the most seemingly ordinary of people, emotions ranging from disgust, to sympathy... and on one strange little boy envy.

”It’s nothing, i’m fine. Just from the guys knife – s’not deep and it doesn’t hurt so. Yeh.” She reached across with the hand that wasn’t holding the picture frame and scratched at her shoulder absently, hoping that this man/boy would go back to the way he had been before. She had preferred it she thought, almost when he had been all business, when he simply wanted to get rid of the ghost. Business and detachment she could handle, generally, from stranger’s people she did not know. Prim had few friends in this world, and though it was not of her choosing, she had become a creature of habit, a creature who felt somewhat without air if people began to act in a way she was not used too. Perhaps, the sooner he started thinking of her as weird, as a freak, the better. The he could be just like everyone else, and they could go on with their lives.

She bit her lip, and grounded herself in the pain, before glancing up and meeting the taller man/boys chin with her eyes. ”I found this, in the attic”She told him, real with no need as it should be sort of obvious. ”You see? The boy in the middle, next to the two girls? That’s him. The boy in the alley, the one who disappeared.” She tapped the glass with one of her nails for a second, pointing him out, and then ran her finger down the dust to the brass plate at the base of the frame. ”Look, all their names are on here... we just have to figure out which one is him.”

WORDS! 502
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES! Not as long this time...
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[prim]

Prim rolled her eyes, though mostly at herself that Talon. She probably should have checked the damn plaque herself before running downstairs and shoving the picture frame under her nose – now she just looked like an idiot considering the severe lack of male names engraved onto the small brass plate at the bottom. Ah well. Who knew if she’d ever see Talon the man/boy ever again anyway. She was almost entirely certain that he was going to disappear into the night with his information, do whatever it is people like him did to sleep at night, and then she too could climb the stairs to her room and snuggle beneath the colours with the little red head currently already sound asleep. Then, she could get back to trying to believe that the events of the night where little more than a dream brought on by the stress of university.

Chewing her lip, she smiled glibly as he read of the names, cursing herself silently for all of about a second before she let the moment pass. Who was she? Since when did Prim Thatcher care what other people thought of her? She never had now, and she certainly wasn’t starting with a man boy with blonde hair, buff arms and well. She wasn’t sure. There was something about him – something sad. Living amongst people who all had a story to tell had given the girl a way of telling when people had something of a sad past – that and of course the small fact that she could tell what was wrong with people with a simple touch.. as long as said thing was diagnosable. Most people just thought her intuitive about their depression, nosey about their family’s health or indeed, simply gifted at what she did. Of course Prim herself had no way of knowing that she had a psychic ability, one that had been passed down through the genes of her parents.

Whilst he sat down at the computer, prim put the other boxes she had got out of the cupboard away, half listening to his muttering about the dark ages as she lifted the cardboard box back onto the shelf. Her top lifted as she stretched revealing an inch of pale scared skin at her waist, but it was an inch that soon disappeared as she fell back to the balls of her feet and tugged the vest back down. She closed the cupboard doors behind her and leant on the desk, half sat on the old pine as she waited for Talon to find what he was looking for. She glanced over when he pulled up the web pages, but she was too far away to the read the small print. Well, yes, that would explain why this place had been called what it had, though at the same time it was a pretty sad story.

Chewing on her lip absently (a habit born out of boredom when she was younger, prim now chewed on her lip when she was bored, thinking, and most often when she was uncomfortable. ) and nodded as he explained, the good little listening girl she had grown up to be. She remained where she was, staring at a small spot on the wall as he got up, turning her head to look over her shoulder when he spoke, frowning back at his own funny look. Did she want to go? Mount Hope cemetery – well she knew where that was. Her parents, whilst not buried there, were in the cemetery a few blocks away – she passed it on her way to visit. She took a moment to think about it and finally nodded, slipping from the desk and following him. ”Ye – I won’t sleep till I know it’s over anyway. Then I can go back to pretending it’s just a nightmare...” She half smiled as she past him, pausing to lock the office door back up. If anyone asked about the photo still laid on the desk in the morning she’d just tell them the truth – she’d found it in the attic. ”Umm, i know a shortcut to Mount hope if we’re walking?”

WORDS! 691
STATUS! complete
TAGS! Talon,
NOTES!
WEARING! CLICKYY
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

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