A/N: I don't know what this is but it wouldn't go away.
But I am using my free choice space on Swarla Summer because I think it fits.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
She stood, still as a statue, and watched as the stone mason finished polishing the gravestone. She shivered; it was a bit chilly for June, and she'd been standing in the misting rain for over three hours watching him work. She needed to see this through, needed to watch it being done.
Strong arms were around her waist, a sharp chin on her shoulder, holding her close, offering support. She leaned into it; the strength, the warmth, the support.
A few steps away and in front of her, a small woman, shrunken by life and grief stood; equally still, a small, blue umbrella resting against one shoulder as she watched, with rapt attention, as the stone changed under the man's craftsmanship. The woman sniffled, occasionally wiping at a tear.
The man ran a cloth over the stone to remove any remaining dust or debris and carefully stood, old bones creaking in protest at the position he'd been in for so long.
He approached her somberly. “Alright, then?” He asked her, voice quiet, reverent.
She nodded and slipped her hand into her pocket, handing him fifty quid.
He frowned at the money. “You've already paid, missus,” he reminded her.
She nodded. “I know, that's for you; a tip for doing the work on a day like today.”
He tipped his hat. “Thank you.” He seemed lost as to what to say next. I'm sorry for your loss didn't seem appropriate.
She simply nodded at the other woman and he nodded his understanding and went to speak to the woman, who still hadn't moved.
“Alright, darlin'?” Carla's voice was low and gravelly in her ear.
Lisa nodded, keeping her voice soft as she answered. “Yeah. I don't really feel anything, if I'm honest.”
She felt a small hand slip into hers and squeezed it slightly. “You alright, Bets?” She questioned her daughter quietly.
“Yeah. I am. I'm glad you did this. It was the right thing to do. The park later, right?”
“Yes. After we warm up a bit at Roy's; maybe have a bit of lunch.” Lisa affirmed.
The small woman walked over to them, her face lined with too many years of grief and uncertainty. “Thank you.” Her voice tight, hoarse with tears yet to be shed. Lisa knew that the woman wasn't much older than she was but, the years had not been kind to her.
“I'm sorry it took so long,” Lisa told her. “I'm sorry for your loss and for whatever part I played in it.”
The woman patted her arm. “You've nowt to apologize for, love. You brought her back to me. Not your doing, none of it. You were a victim n all, too, werencha?”
“Will you join us for lunch? We're just going to a little cafe for something warm and filling. Maybe … maybe you could tell us about her?” Lisa offered, hoping the woman would accept.
The woman looked at her for a moment, as if assessing her sincerity, before nodding. “Aye, I think I'd like that. Thank you.”
She turned back to the stone.
Tia Wardley
a beautiful soul gone too soon
Missed forever
22 August 2004 – 6 December 2021
“She weren't a bad girl, you know?” Mrs. Wardly said softly. “Just …”
“I understand,” Lisa reached out and squeezed the woman's hand.
The four of them turned and left the cemetery together, heading to Roy's.
Later, Lisa would witness the removal of the plaque from the park bench; Carla and Betsy by her side.
And the last reminders of Rebecca Swain would finally be removed.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
A/N: I chose a random birth date for Tia Wardley; my headcanon is that Blecky knew she was leaving the night she “died” - Tia Wardley's body lay unclaimed in the morgue so Blecky made her plan and her escape. Hence the different death date from Blecky's.
Thomas sighed as he checked his watch yet again. He much preferred the isolated station to a bustling crowd, but that didn't mean he enjoyed waiting in a different country at night.
“It shouldn't be too long now. It said we have thirty minutes,”Rachel assured him, glancing up from her conversation with Aris. His quiet huff was drowned out by the sound of Teresa turning a page, half focusing on her book.
“If you're so bored, why don't you do something to pass the time?”she suggested.
“There's nothing to do,”he complained, mixing up his rubix cube again. He could solve the stupid thing with his eyes shut at this point. It was only a challenge for so long. It was essentially a fidget toy at this point.
“We could tell stories?”the olive-skinned boy suggested, zipping up his jacket.
“May as well,”Teresa sighed, closing her book. As she placed it in her purse, Rachel stood, stretching her arms out. The pop made Thomas wince, an audible crack from her hips to her neck.
“I’ll start,”he offered, a malicious grin on his face. She shot him a look to just be normal for once that he completely ignored. Thomas couldn't help but notice he was practically foaming at the mouth, as though he had been waiting all week for this. Still, he leaned closer to Teresa, their legs brushing together on the bench as they paid attention to whatever he had managed to come up with this time.
“A long time ago, there was a shy schoolgirl named Kashima. She did her best to keep her head down and stay out of everyone's way. She was always working to blend into her background, no matter what it meant.”
Thomas rolled his eyes at the cliche start, his arms crossed over his chest. Elbowing his side, she silently scolded him for being a grouch.
“Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage them. Her classmates were constantly having fun at her expense, carving cruel names on her desk and cornering her in the bathroom. Still, she continued to try to avoid any trouble, even when it made her life harder than it had to be.”
Rachel nodded along as she bunched her hoodie in her fists. She was leaning forward in anticipation, always one for a tale.
“When school was out one day, she and her other classmates were waiting for the train home. There was a delay that kept them there longer, and after ten minutes, everyone was antsy. That's when some of the girls got an idea for entertainment.”
Teresa absentmindedly squeezed Thomas's hand, leaning her head against the wall.
“As poor Kashima was waiting there, she felt someone shove her. When she tried to go back, to leave to any kind of safety, a crowd formed. The taunting and laughter left her face burning in humiliation, her pleas to be left alone going unheard.”
Thomas was tapping his foot against the concrete, his leg shaking as he waited for the next part.
“They couldn't hear the train over the noise. When she tried to run, someone shoved her onto the track, making her fall back. Before she could even scream, she was split clean in half, separating her torso. Her legs were obliterated under the wheels, leaving a mess of blood. Now she haunts train stations late at night, dragging herself on her elbows. She looks for other people to ask if they’ve seen her legs. And when you don't have an answer, she cuts yours off instead. She's known as the Teke Teke because of the sound of her body scraping on the concrete, a trail of blood following behind her.”
The three were holding their breaths, their eyes wide and focused. The shivers up their spine, the feeling of someone or something watching them, left them stuck in place.
“Wait, do you guys hear that?”he asked, his brows furrowed as he looked around. When the others followed suit, scanning for whatever he was talking about, he grabbed Rachel’s shoulders as he yelled, “Teke Teke!”
She screamed as she smacked his hands, nearly falling back. The other two did the same, with Thomas scrambling on the bench as if he was going to be pulled into the earth.
“You asshole!”she insulted, repeatedly slapping his chest. He laughed as he playfully grabbed her wrists, a satisfied grin on his face.
“You're not funny,”Teresa snapped.
“I thought it was funny.”
“Of course you did,”he wheezed, catching his breath.
The laughter and voices slowly died down, leaving them sitting there patiently. They looked back at the tracks like it could make a train appear.
“Teke. Teke.”
“Seriously, Aris. Stop it,”Teresa demanded, glaring at him.
“That-that’s not me,”he whispered.
She didn't want to believe him. None of them did to be honest. Because the alternative was much darker than a joke.
But his face was losing color like never before, his shoulders visibly shaking.
“Then, who's-”
“Teke. Teke.”
“Oh, hell no. I am not waiting around for this. I’m not,”Thomas promised, grabbing his bag.
“I-I’m sure it's nothing,”Rachel lied, digging her nails into her palms.
“Yeah? You willing to find out?”Aris reminded her, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he looked at her, urging her to follow. Teresa was already two steps ahead, her purse secured as she was running up the stairs.
“It's just a story,”she tried to convince herself. Logic means mythical stories don't come to life when someone tells them. Logic meant understanding that sometimes coincidences are extremely disturbing. That could have been anything. A stray, a creaking track, someone above them. There was no proof it was a dead girl.
“I don't want to stick around and see. Please, Rachel? Let's just find a different way to the hotel?”
She was stubborn as ever, refusing to look anywhere but ahead. She was smarter than some story. She thought they all were.
“Teke Teke.”
“Fine, fine. Let's go,”she gave in, forcing herself to stand. Before they could find out if it was really just an old legend, they were long gone, leaving whatever the hell this was behind.
Summary: Jon and Robb are investigating Daenerys and trying to figure out the best way to complete their mission. They finally catch a break, capturing a member of her guard, and Jon has hope he can finally get some answers on the intense attraction he feels towards Dany. But it turns out they weren't the only ones with tricks up their sleeves.
Preview: Yet again he had woken in a daze, his eyelids sticking together as he blinked in the dark, disoriented and wondering what was reality or dream. His brother’s worried face hovered over him, blurred at first, but becoming more clear with each waking moment. When Jon sat up with a groan, Robb rushed back a step to give him space to do so, squatting down to sit on a boulder.
They were back outside the city where their tent was hidden in between trees at the base of the sacred mountain that overlooked the Dothraki people.
“You alright?” Robb asked, reaching for a wineskin and handing it to him.
Jon took it, then recoiled at the ordinary human’s blood that filled it. That earned him a confused look from Robb, rightfully so. Vampires never turned down human blood once the aroma filled them, the frenzy starting at first sniff; even when one overindulges to the point they feel the uncomfortable slosh of their near bursting belly, they would drink it down greedily.
Instead, human blood smelled increasingly bland and unappetizing after each taste of her.
