Post by Rachel Phantomhive on Mar 11, 2012 1:07:18 GMT -5
Character Name: Rachel Phantomhive
Sample starter:
The cemetery was quiet except for the sound of leaves scraping against headstones in the winter chill. It was empty, too, if one didn’t know better. But there among the rows of worn, grey headstones, almost invisible, was a figure. Rachel Phantomhive. She stood there among the stones with sad eyes, wearing the same gown, the same earrings, the same neat hairstyle as the day she died. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. Rachel felt restless. And lonely. “If only you were here…” she whispered, looking with an expression of yearning down at the headstone that bore her husband’s name: Vincent Phantomhive. Perhaps this was why he was an angel and she… was not. She was restless. She couldn’t seem to just let go and move on. Not when her darling Ciel was filled with so much pain and walking headlong down the path of self-destruction. What kind of mother would just walk away from that?
She missed Ciel. She missed him so much she imagined that if she still had a physical form the pain from missing him would have been tangible, and yet she could not go to him. That would have been selfish. It would have only brought him more pain in the end and she loved him too dearly to do that to him. She’d left him once already and couldn’t allow it to happen again. So she stayed away, watching from a distance. Because, with Vincent and Anne gone, who else would?
Rachel felt tears budding, and one slid down her cheek like glitter, intangible but existing. She wiped it away and fought the others back because she had spent too much time being the weak, unknowing angel. She had to be strong this time. For Vincent. For Anne. For Ciel. For everyone. She would be strong and she would watch over Ciel, even if he didn’t know it. Even if he never would, she would watch him, because Ciel was her son and there was nothing neither Heaven nor Hell could do to take that away from her.
As the sun rose, and her figure began to fade with the rising light, she placed a hand on the ornate headstone of her husband and whispered, “Until we meet again, my love,” and was gone.
Sample starter:
The cemetery was quiet except for the sound of leaves scraping against headstones in the winter chill. It was empty, too, if one didn’t know better. But there among the rows of worn, grey headstones, almost invisible, was a figure. Rachel Phantomhive. She stood there among the stones with sad eyes, wearing the same gown, the same earrings, the same neat hairstyle as the day she died. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. Rachel felt restless. And lonely. “If only you were here…” she whispered, looking with an expression of yearning down at the headstone that bore her husband’s name: Vincent Phantomhive. Perhaps this was why he was an angel and she… was not. She was restless. She couldn’t seem to just let go and move on. Not when her darling Ciel was filled with so much pain and walking headlong down the path of self-destruction. What kind of mother would just walk away from that?
She missed Ciel. She missed him so much she imagined that if she still had a physical form the pain from missing him would have been tangible, and yet she could not go to him. That would have been selfish. It would have only brought him more pain in the end and she loved him too dearly to do that to him. She’d left him once already and couldn’t allow it to happen again. So she stayed away, watching from a distance. Because, with Vincent and Anne gone, who else would?
Rachel felt tears budding, and one slid down her cheek like glitter, intangible but existing. She wiped it away and fought the others back because she had spent too much time being the weak, unknowing angel. She had to be strong this time. For Vincent. For Anne. For Ciel. For everyone. She would be strong and she would watch over Ciel, even if he didn’t know it. Even if he never would, she would watch him, because Ciel was her son and there was nothing neither Heaven nor Hell could do to take that away from her.
As the sun rose, and her figure began to fade with the rising light, she placed a hand on the ornate headstone of her husband and whispered, “Until we meet again, my love,” and was gone.
