Dusk Rising (A Duskside Story)

[Living Dead Girl]

"What say you, Willingham? Do you think 'Nora would like this?" Though spoken aloud, the girl seemed to be alone as she stood before the lead paned window of a shop just off the main strip of the Market. In one hand, fingers curled about the thin length of carved ivory that led up to the broad brim of a lace trimmed parasol. The other hand set somewhere near her shoulder, stroking idly through the wealth of emerald that crowned her head and spilled in fluid ringlets over her shoulders, deep and serene like secret-laden swamps, all moss and decay.

The shop she stood before had been closed for at least two hours according to a handwritten whiteboard sign in the front window, but that didn't keep her from perusing the wares hanging in the shopfront. Shiny trinkets and jewelry ranging from bracelets and necklaces to brooches and pins and amulets. Some had descriptions, others had only a price tag. The muted slate of her gaze seemed to rest upon an oval bauble dangling from a matte metal chain on a little post made of the antlers of some small creature or another.

The pendant was framed in a gunmetal backing, holding together what looked to be a polished orb of fossilized amber. Inset into the amber was a small insect alongside a jagged tooth. To Acadia, it didn't look as though it belonged together but it was just queer enough to catch her eye. Untold potential, the possibilities of the multiverse, who was she to say what was and wasn't feasible? A small squeak beside her ear prompted a cant of her head and a small, coy smile. "Yes, Willingham, I do believe you are right. It would be quite perfect, yes?"

The whiskered snout of what appeared to be a rat poked out from the curls of her hair, scenting the air before disappearing back into the floral scented nest it called home. Acadia's fingers stopped stroking, content to leave her familiar be. Instead she set her fingers, petite and pale, to the cool glass of the window. Beneath a faded and chipped layer of pink lacquer, her nailbeds were a pallid grey. She frowned when she saw them, the pert pucker of her mouth pulled firmly into a displeased crescent.

Her hand pressed flat to the glass. First again and then through, unaffected by its solid state. Neither was it impacted by the passing of her hand and with a minute twist of her wrist, she scooped up the dangling bauble from its bone perch and drew it back. A roll of her fingers gathered it up into her palm, clasped tight with a clench of her fist as she pulled it all free of the storefront window. Her bounty was slipped into one of the many pockets of her dress and as though she hadn't lingered for the better part of thirty minutes, she continued on, dainty feet beneath layered skirts carrying her away from the bustle of Astra Avenue and back toward the stone bridge and shadows of Duskside.