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@catherinemarseilles
[Elodie nervously curtsied in front of her grandmother, but smiled as warmly as she could manage despite her heart racing] Thank you for planning the event, and for inviting me.
The pleasure is all mine, Emily. After all, I had to see Sophia brought into the world. Not to mention, this event is all about family.
Gratefully sobered up from her encounter in the kitchen, Clara turned, hearing the thick velvet of the matriarch Marseilles. She’d seen pictures in Liam’s house, spoken of her with him at night and been debriefed by Bishop over lunch in Manhattan, but nothing came close to the cat eyes of the woman who dominated all other Marseilles-spawn. Meeting Catherine’s gaze evenly with her own, Clara beamed politely, offering her hand out in humbling contrast to the usual Stephenson way. “I’d say that means quite the successful turnout, wouldn’t you?” her brows arched, eyes bright. “Clara Stephenson. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
"But of course," the Matriarch replied in a smooth manner as piercing blue eyes analyzed the girl before her. The whiff of residual alcohol did not escape the woman's notice, and when a hand shot out to exchange greeting, Catherine moved at her own pace to to meet the outreached palm and covered the other's over the top with her own. There wasn't an ounce of warmth in her smile. "Ah, Clara. I'm glad you could make it. How is Bishop?"
Yeah, it is. May I leave now?
Not at all. Haven't you realized that whining does nothing for a girl your age? Liven up, Raime. You're as approachable as a dead fish right now.
I’m sure she did her best, Grandmother. I’m sorry, Grandmother. I did try, but I didn’t quite inherit the same natural grace that you have.
I don't keep incompetence around. She'll have to go. Notify my assistant that we will never require that planner's services again. [Playing Liam little attention as she flips through the schedule.]
Hm. I do wonder if it's that mouth of yours is the cause of you being all black and blue.
You’ve thrown a successful party, Grandmother. Everything really is beautiful.
Less than there should be. I should fire the silly girl that made such a mess.
...ah Liam. Unkempt as ever, I see.
The room is rather packed.
A spark of her old ambitions showed through as she returned the smile with a playful eyeroll. Annabel really just brought out the shitty parts of her, “My poor hair.” She let out a breath, “What about…a comma patient, Anna? Someone who isn’t living rightfully…I don’t think anyone is going to willingly give up their body, and I’m only so capable of convincing people to do what I want,” she smirked, inclining her head, “The better half without the people skills, remember?”
There appeared to be a glimmer behind Annabel's smile this time, like she was holding onto a secret. "It does take a certain wickedness to get people to bend to your ways."
"I only need to borrow the body for a little while if I take the right one...like a witch," she gave a casual shrug as if the idea just occurred to her, and hadn't been on her mind the entire time.
Deering hasn’t needed me since you’ve been gone, Anna, but I’m glad you don’t want my body. Brunette doesn’t suite you.
[Hunter laughs, trying to slip back into her role as Annabel’s shadow…but its hard…and she’s weary of it.] Did you have anyone in mind?
"That's about to change, then," She let out a childish laugh before offering Hunter a coy smile. "I could pull off brunette, but come on, Hunt, we both know that if I were going to be in your body, I'd dye your hair blonde." She paused and let her eyes lightly glance over the brunette's features. "But blonde really wouldn't suit you."
I haven't picked anyone out, but I think if I'm going to get a second chance, I want to do it as someone important.
She pulled away and stared into her friend’s eyes. She thought over her knowledge on ghosts, and wiped at her face. "God, do you know how miserable I’ve been without you?"
She attempted to smooth down a strand of Reed's hair, but without a body, the lock remained still, and she let out a sigh. "I've been keeping an eye on you, even though you can't always see me. You're supposed to be enjoying this, Reed."
The brunette moved forwards and wrapped her arms around her favorite blonde, tears leaking out of her eyes. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. "Please explain to me how you’re standing in front of me right now."
She couldn't feel Reed's arms wrap around her, but the gesture itself made her feel improved, a bit like the girl who had everyone wrapped around her finger. "I'm a ghost, there isn't much to explain. It sucks."
You mean when you’ve finally reached the other side?
No. When I'm finally back where I should be, I'm not giving up.
I don’t want to do it, but if it comes down to you hurting someone, and getting rid of you for good, I will make the latter happen.
In response to Annabel's sudden spike in emotion, the air around her became cooler, and she drifted closer to Lance. "We'll see about that," she dissipated into nothing, her ethereal form lost with the breeze.
Clearly, you’re not quite dead - you’re a ghost. There’s a difference.
That's one way to think about it. I'll be happier when people can't walk through me.
I’m sure no good will come with whatever plans you have. There’s already an unbalance, don’t play with spells, Annabel Jane, and don’t seek out a witch either, otherwise—just don’t do anything except focus on finding your door.
Otherwise, what?
An unwelcome one.
Didn't your mother teach you it's bad to speak ill of the dead?
You do have a certain glow of iridescence though. I actually died in 1910, so I guess I’d be considered a first generation Marseilles. I’m honestly not sure what happened to our family after that point, I tried to stay away to protect them.
If you can locate your corpse and it hasn’t begun rotting, and you can locate a powerful witch, I know of a little Eastern European legend that might somewhat give you your life back.
Yeah, but I'm wearing the same outfit I died in. Wow, you're practically an artifact. Our family got caught up in the witchy voodoo, but then we dwindled down into nothing, but the help. No one in the Marseilles family has been able to cast a spell for centuries.
I know a witch, he was the one who performed the spell that killed me. I'm not interested in coming back helpless again, though.
You somehow manipulated Nate into performing the bonding spell and it cost you your life, and it could have killed him too. You’re dead because you wanted something you couldn’t have.
Lance, I need you to help me make this right, not point out all of the things I did wrong. If you won't do that, I'll find someone else who will.
