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It had been four months, and Moira still came back to that same spot almost every day. Four months and Weirdmageddon was beginning to fade, a distant memory in the minds of it’s survivors. But she still came to that place where the statue was. She didn't know why. The event hadn't scarred her any more than it had everyone else, so it wasn't really revenge related. But she sat there for hours and just.. talked. Rambling on about this and that. Her latest achievement of the occult, her frustration that not even nearly dying had made her any dearer to her parents, just things that needed saying. Why speak to an inanimate object? let alone an inanimate object that had nearly laid waste to the entire town and by extension, the world? By emotional standards, she should hate him with everything she had in her. Try to destroy the damned thing. But that didn’t happen either.. Maybe she just needed someone who at least looked like they were listening. If that was the case, the stone creature did it’s job well enough. Still, she couldn't help but wonder.. What would happen if she shook the outstretched hand? She had wondered that the first time she came to the place, but instead sat down and read the book she had brought. Four months later and the desire to know still wasn’t any less.. The day she turned fifteen, she came to the spot in the forest as usual, but instead of sitting down next to the statue, she stood infront of it. “You better not screw me over for this..” And grasped the outstretched stone hand in her own.
