madelaine wants many things in this apparent death and that’s mostly for people to suffer in ways that she has done. for them to feel the consequences of her actions when things go awry.
she sighs, trying to flit through the inner most workings of her mind, a random jumble of different thoughts and ideas that are constantly flowing through her brain. it’s hard to focus, and the noise is so loud sometimes that she twitches slightly. it comes across as though she’s receiving a bolt of energy or an anxiety shiver that works it’s way up her spine.
“your kindness is enough,”
she says, shifting to stand towards where mira currently stands. watching as she stands there amongst semi-rotting foliage that litters the ground. this place has long since been abandoned, there is no caretaker that comes to wash the stones away, to cut the grass.
“i appreciate you coming to talk with me. sharing bits of your own life. it’s fascinating, seeing how others manage to work through struggles and such on their own and overcome potential downfalls.” she’s rambling now, words leaving her lips just to hear the sound of her own voice.
it’s overgrown and yet somehow, there is an eerie sense of peace surrounding the area. madelaine cannot explain it, but it brings comfort. maybe it’s’ the accumulation of lost souls coming to comfort her, she is not aware, but she likes coming out here sometimes. it’s quiet and refreshing and just. it’s a reminder that things never turn out as they’re supposed to.
“revenge is best served cold, they always say. i don’t know if i’d prefer it icy or steaming hot. guess it probably depends on the situation.”
she says, chancing a smile in mira’s direction.
“do you speak with the dead often?”
she asks, a tilt of the head. she’s curious about mira’s own experience with those in the afterlife. secretly, she’s wondering if she’s the favorite, but considering she just unloaded a whirlwind of emotions onto mira’s plate, she’s assuming that she’s not.
“i didn’t used to.” she answers the question honestly. “for a long time, i didn’t talk to much of anyone - i was so scared to be seen as the weird girl talking to myself because other people couldn’t see what i could.”
she turns away from the makeshift graveyard. she can’t stomach the sight of other spirits creeping into the clearing to mourn their own loss of life - and being forgotten.
“my mom taught me that i should talk to spirits more. you have a story to be told and you want someone to listen.”
there are some spirits that are angry, tired of living in a world where they couldn’t be heard. those spirits are dangerous. if just talking to someone and letting them know that there’s at least one person in the world that can still see them - hear them - and feel their pain helps ease that pain? she would.
“i couldn’t save people when they were alive, but maybe i can save them from losing themselves now?”