𝓛. 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑬 ⸻ loving you was like loving the dead . a private , dependant blog affiliated with @itshoco , featuring lianna lotse . eternally thirty-one . woman as eurydice . dead .
where : on a street corner near tangles, helena on her way to her regular dye job ( to be seen with roots showing : the horror ! )
that some people preferred estelle's company to hers was never something that bothered helena. maybe lianna lotse could sense what helena tried to hide : how very imperfect she was in every aspect. but being true to oneself didn't stop lianna from dying, did it ? the bitter thought wells up in helena's mind. nothing to stop her from thinking it except the private shame that accompanies the sting of anger. even now, after death, she can't be honest with the other. “ 'scuse me. ” she says politely instead, eyes locked onto a corner instead of lianna's features. small talk, to anyone else, would have come easy as breathing. when faced with someone who should have been buried, she felt like an awkward tween again, scared of public speaking. “ have to go take care of this mess. ” she waves over her hair. “ maybe get some gossip out of the way. ”
perhaps the point of life is to look when you want to flinch away and close your eyes. perhaps that is what it means to be alive. ''oh, of course,'' lianna says, canting her head to the side as she takes a step back, giving way to helena. they say that isolation is a kind of death; if no one is there to witness your existence then you are not really there. so then why won't they look? why can't they bear to witness her presence? ''it's a small town. i wonder what sort of gossip awaits. does anything interesting even happen these days?'' but does it, does it truly? she tells it like a joke that the younger ought to laugh at, but tell her, tell her please, what she fails to see.
Oh, Nurse Lotse, not even a ring on your finger could save you from tragedy, could it?
Maki imagined she might've been jealous at some point. All girls who dream of nothing but love and love and love would be jealous of that ring on Lianna's finger, and the look on her almost-husband's face whenever she was near. Now, well. What's there to be jealous of? The lost time? The stink of death? The madness lingering underneath pale skin? It was much easier to pity her instead, so that's what Maki did.
“You look—” like yourself, but not fully yourself. Like a ghost. Like something that doesn't belong. “—Nice.” Poor thing, she thought. Poor thing. “I mean, clearly you're not having a very good hair... or face day, but we all have those sometimes.”
this is a game. an age-old one. the one that perhaps maki knows how to play better than lianna, but that's all right, because she'll bite— and play. can she still wear her heart upon her sleeve if the heart in question no longer beats?
''thank you, maki. but you can save your backhanded compliments for someone who actually likes you.'' you are praying, better said braying at the wrong place of worship. you'll get no answer here. it's not a deity that speaks to you, or someone god-adjacent, but a void. void and a woman; one and the same thing. ''i'm sorry. that was mean. i don't know what has gotten into me.'' or what has, somewhere along the way, been forcefully removed. something must've come undone. a stitch or two that grew too loose. or stubborn ribs that no longer wish to house the same old lungs and heart.
📍 a random curb not far from the door's of sancutary church
🗝️ open to all ( no cap )
a short puff of a sigh from casper's lips as he unceremoniously lowers his body onto the concrete curb. there's a lingering throb concentrated behind both temples. an ongoing ache he can't subside with ibuprofen, caffeine, calories or sleep. the past few weeks have melded into a blur of time and space, the ability to recount his exact whereabouts only a haze. however, the feeling all together different than the swirl of his brain after days of sleepless nights coding through a particular tough work sprint. was he getting sick ? there was no time for that in his schedule. " oh sorry ... am i in your way ? " eyes fixating on the figure approaching, " i thought i'd be out of the way here. "
it's hard, of course, to pinpoint what exactly feels wrong; maybe it's her presence that sticks out like an extra finger on a slender hand, or perhaps she is just too persistent, too loud and out-spoken for someone who ought to be a ghost. so she finds comfort elsewhere, a brief moment's reprieve just outside the church, as her sight almost blurs. ''no, not at all. don't worry. the air inside just felt very vitiated,'' stale. perhaps the better term for it would be strange, but that would be impossible to smell. she takes a step forward then, moving on instinct, her thoughts merging like water droplets on glass during heavy rainfall. ''are you all right? do you need anything?''
♱ despite having lived in marrow her whole life, phoebe looks around the potluck and sees too many strangers. of course, there was father romero and the entourage that came along with him three weeks ago, but there were those who used to be familiar, those she used to know but now feel more like foreigners than people she grew up surrounded by. still, phoebe joins in on the camaraderie, forcing a smile as she shows up in her best outfit and freshly baked cookies, determined to be undettered by her uneasy gut. “ they're lemon crinkles, ” phoebe says when someone so much as stares into the tupperware. “ you should try one. tell me what you think. ”
''oh,'' is the first thing that escapes from her dry mouth, soft and round, unfurling like a ball of precious yarn. ''i'm not really hungry nor in the mood for something sweet,'' which is only a half-lie, well-thought out, but still a lie. that's what makes it so easy to tell, but her refusal to comply, lianna fears, will only bring forth more damage than good. forced to think on her feet, she lets a weary smile accompany her weighted words. ''they look amazing, though. i might have to take one before i leave. did you bake them ?''
𓉸 marrow's own LIANNA LOTSE, age 31, passed away on february 2nd 2025. loved ones report that they were extremely DEVOTED and express discontent with rumors that describe them as WISTFUL. according to town gossip, their death was due to FALLING ON THE TRAIN TRACKS IN FRONT OF A MOVING TRAIN — which is strange, because i could have sworn that i saw them at SANCTUARY CHURCH last night.
¹.
NAME LIANNA LOTSE. MEANING MY GOD HAS ANSWERED. NICKNAMES LILI. ZODIAC AQUARIUS. DOB FEBRUARY 18TH . PLACE OF BIRTH MARROW, MAINE, USA. CURRENT LOCATION IN THE DEEP PITS OF AGONY. DATE OD DEATH FEBRUARY 2ND CAUSE OF DEATH FALLING ONTO TRAIN TRACKS AND BEING STRUCK BY A TRAIN GENDER CIS WOMAN. RELIGION AGNOSTIC FOR THE MOST PART, BUT HAS ALWAYS BEEN FOND OF THE CHURCH PRONOUNS SHE/HER. OCCUPATION NURSE. ETHNICITY HIMALAYAN AND AWAETLALA FIRST NATIONS.
².
HEIGHT FIVE FEET SIX INCHES, ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-EIGHT CENTIMETERS. HAIR DARK BROWN, ALMOST RAVEN. EYES BROWN, PROFOUNDLY MELANCHOLIC. SCENT IT USED TO BE THE SCENT OF LILACS AND STRAWBERRIES, NOW IT'S HARD TO TELL. INSPIRATION / CHARACTER PARALLELS EURYDICE ( GREEK MYTHOLOGY ), JANE HENDERSON ( PARIS, TEXAS ), A LITTLE BIT OF ANNA KARENINA PETS TOOK CARE OF A STRAY CAT THAT SHE AFFECTIONATELY CALLED JEANS. PLEASE TELL ME THAT SOMEONE TOOK CARE OF JEANS WHILE SHE WAS AWAY.
³. ( * is the amalgamation of all my thoughts coherent? probably not, but you still must endure. )
this is a simple song, one sung by all. this is a ghost story. therefore it is a love story. born and for the most part raised within the borders of the town they call marrow, lianna was almost always a constant, steady presence; to know her is to know the sun. it always comes back. rises each morning.
her sister, older by ten years, was the first to leave. this set the scene for her the rest of her life was going to unfold — in slow motion. unlike her sister, who had the courage to leave it all behind and trade it for another country, another border, and a man, lianna had a penchant for excessive contemplation and often lived within her own head, rather than a proper place.
this led to her developing somewhat of a fascination with trains from a young age. time and time again, she would rest her sadness on an elbow and watch them pass, imagining herself occupying a seat, or simply a space within the cart. it's how she escaped. every worry, each sorrow and dejection. despite their scarcity, she usually had most of the train timetables memorized, and therefore knew when to expect them.
as a child, she had a habit of picking up and bringing home stray animals at her own expense, but instead of pursuing her veterinary dream, lianna knew she had to settle for something that would actually earn her money in a town like marrow, which later on brought her closer to medicine.
her early twenties she spent traveling to and fro marrow, as she studied at maine college of health professionals in lewiston, where she subsequently earned her associate degree in nursing.
upon graduating, she found herself working at 'the hospital', the nameless place everyone in town knows. it was also a well-known thing that lianna did house visits, private check-ups, and prescribed medications, most of the time free of charge.
the day of her death is still the biggest mystery that surrounds lianna. on february 2nd, 2025, painfully close to her thirty-second birthday, lianna found herself once more by the train tracks. despite the biting cold, she had known the terrain her entire life and had no trouble navigating the place. in the last moments of her life, she could swear that she had heard someone calling her. the rest is blank. most were left baffled due to the nature of her death. did she slip or jump? no one could tell. she died as a devoted daughter, almost a wife, and a humble servant, and was buried by her fiancé.
now let's get into the nitty-gritty parts about her current state, religion, and general view of life. no one in her household had previously been overly religious and she certainly wasn't catholic by birth, but she had found a certain solace in the church. she loved its smell and the comfort it brought her. she was also a firm believer in the natural order of things, such as that there are no second chances, other lives, it's just a thing people tell themselves to pass the time and soothe the ache. this is all that they get. which in turn made her all the more passionate and devoted to those she adored and loved. she wanted to do something with the years she was given and wanted to be remembered. for her kindness, for her love, for the tenderness she willingly displayed. everything else hardly mattered.
how will she react to the fact that she's now nurse feratu? well, stay tuned for the horrors !
⁴.
imagine you can recount the events of your death, explain that day.
''i don't think that there's much to explain.'' this is a ghost story. because it is a ghost story, it is also a love story. the ending's always the same. ''just like on every other day, i was crossing the marrow train bridge. i often had a habit, like most curious women do, of lingering there, watching the trains pass and glide toward the unknown. i sometimes wished that i was the one going somewhere. it had brought me a strange sense of comfort.'' and even stranger sense of longing. sometimes, she swears, the void called to her, beseeched her to come closer.
''something must've happened. it was cold that day. i swear i heard someone calling my name to turn around, but it was too late.'' orpheus calls to eurydice but she doesn't answer; maybe she's been orpheus all along. it's not the flying nor the falling that breaks her; it's the impact. ''i must've slipped. for a mere second, i saw the train lights. none of it mattered, though.'' for she had been loved. ''i only felt sorrow for leaving without a kiss. i hope that he can forgive me.''
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