'Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust.'

[ultraviolet]

okay, so this is Rupalia's history, I've written it in two parts. The brown text is the past (well it all is, but you get the idea) and is written in third-person, the black (or default, depending on which skin you're using) is Rupalia herself telling the story, and is in first-person. As a rule, the present will describe Rupalia as she is now (prior to any roleplaying, as she hasn't yet) and the past will describe how she died, how she aquired magic.. and so on. Hopefully this won't be too confusing, if it is, let me know. (:

comments are very welcome!

--x--

The mother uni sat in the office with the grace of a fragile chinadoll; she felt if she moved too much, she'd break. Blinking, she stared around the room tearfully, taking in the dreary office, the peeling wallpaper and the desk in front of her, which was scattered with evidence and typed documents. The door behind her clicked; the reason she had been waiting here had just arrived.
The reason, clad in a buisness-like attire, walked softly into the room with a briefcase, turned around the desk and sat in the leather armchair opposite the uni. The lupe pushed his fingertips together in front of him and studied them.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said quietly.
"That's okay, detective, I wasn't waiting long." she replied, just as quietly.
There was a silence. The lupe continued to study his hands, and the uni watched him tentatively. She seemed to be expecting something.
"So... sir, do-"
At this point she broke into restrained, racked sobs.
" - do you know who killed my daughter?!"
She withdrew a laced hankercheif from one of the pockets of her skirt, and dabbed her mascara-stained eyes, still sobbing.

The sight of the crying woman opposite him made the detective recoil slightly, internally. He handed her a tissue box, but offered no words of comfort.
He made contact, through his grey, watery eyes, and prepared to break the news.

"I'm sorry. None of the evidence points to any specific person, and every suspect we have has a solid alibi. The murder was well-done."
He got out of his chair, and walked over to the window behind it, peering through the vertical blinds. The lupe sighed tiredly.

"I'm afraid the only one who knows who murdered Rupalia, is Rupalia."

The mother's sobs became louder, and she felt as if she was spilling her soul.

[ultraviolet]

Death is a funny thing; as soon as you've got it all figured out, it jumps out at you, changes its mind, and makes you think more about it all over again.
I mean, a lot of people talk about the afterlife, right? Sure they do. Just not a lot of the people that are truly dead are in any sort of state to share with us, to spare us of this mystery.
Okay, truthfully, yes, I have died. No biggie. Okay, well it was the end of life as I knew it, and the beginning of everything I know now, but really, it wasn't so bad.
But it certainly wasn't painless. I remember, I was only a little girl.

I remember everything nowadays. Protector of the Graveyard's Treasures is not a job in which you forget faces.

[ultraviolet]

warning: this is slightly grisly, I haven't made it too graphic so everyone can read it, but there is murder. Just a heads-up. (:

Tick. Tick. Tick.
The young uni tiptoed down the staircase with extreme caution; if she woke her parents, or worse still, of they found her sneaking biscuits after dark, she'd get into all kinds of trouble. A large grandfather clock ticked loudly from somewhere within the darkness. Holding the candle in one hand, she descended the stairs, walking around the especially creaky parts. The candlelight flickered and sent wavering light around the main room where the staircase lead; it illuminated things far away only slightly, but objects close to the uni were brightened up nicely.
Her slippers scuffed the rug as she made her way towards the kitchen, her eyes scanning the counter for the grail; the Biscuit Tin of Double-Chocolate-Chip Cookies. Placing the candle on the counter and reaching for the tin, she tip-toed over to the kitchen table, pulled herself up onto a chair and opened the tin.

Rupalia, being seven years old, innocent and young, had a life full of family, friends and chocolate-chip biscuits. She wasn't a spoilt child, she'd been brought up on good morals, and her life was full, warm and happy.
Being seven years old, Rupalia had no idea about such things such as magic, death, and murderers.
She never expected anything to lurk within the shadows that wasn't just as benign and standard as a shadow.
Rupalia, being young and innocent and happy, never dreamed of the flash of candlelight against obsidian; the strike of stone between shoulderblades; the thrust of a knife driven through her back, piercing her spine.
A gasp of shock escaped her lips, a soft 'Oh,' of understanding. She barely had time to scream.
She never knew that anything as cruel as a murderer, who watched her bleed to death, satisfied, even existed.
The shadow left.
Now with the full knowledge of all the dark things within the world, she exhaled for the last time, and the lights in her eyes faded.
Rupalia's limp hand slid off the edge of the table, dangling from her shoulder, the half-eaten biscuit falling and landing in her own blood.

No-one was there when Rupalia died. No-one knew that the world had gotten a little less sweet until her mother entered the kitchen that morning and uttered a scream that all of Neovia would hear.

[ultraviolet]

I sighed, clutching my staff and watching the tip of it glow black. I know what you're thinking, glow black, right? It made everything around it slightly darker, and right at the center of the glow it emitted a wavering, soft-purple light. I smiled. I liked my staff.

It was pretty long, about halfway up my shoulder, ridged, strong, and carved out of mahogany. Small stones, dull at the moment, were affixed into various ridges and knots of the wood. When I used magic, the stones would shine the same black-purple as the tip, which curled at the end, with a small stone hanging from it by spun silver. This acted as a lantern, and always glowed. The others usually remained dull.
The lantern contained the essence of a dark faerie, and allowed me to wield the magic of protection. As a rule, magic cannot work in any Neopian Graveyard because souls are at rest here. The dead should not be dishonoured by any disturbance, including magic, by the word of Ilere. It was because of her that I got this job, and why I could use magic here. But normally I didn't need to - graverobber were normally uncommon.
Occasionally, however, I had to step in.

A bird whistled softly in the wind and the trees rustled; my cloak billowed softly around my feet, brushing the leaf-strewn floor.

[ultraviolet]

Her soul struggled to float upwards when she died. She didn't want to die. Not now. Not yet. She cried endlessly, her thoughts in distress. The dead took pity, eventually. They couldn't accept her so young. So pure. But she would need a place.

Rue opened her eyes. It was morning. She was lying on the floor of the kitchen. Sunlight peeked through the kitchen window.
"Dust the counter for prints, detective."
She sat up. Police were walking around the kitchen, taking photos, marking things with chalk. She stood up, and walked over to one of the policemen, her small, feathered wings fluttering slightly when she walked.
"Excuse me, mister."
The policeman continued writing things down on a ledger. "Sir?"
She nudged his trouser leg, only to discover that she couldn't. His trouser leg kept evading him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't touch him. She couldn't feel it. Like he was only a hologram or something.
There was a sob from somewhere inside. Rupalia ran into the foyer, her slippers still scuffing the floor.
Her mother was crying, her wings around her. A detective was next to her, offering words of sympathy.
"Ma?"
Rue ran over to her mother and tried to hug her.
She ran right through her.