Oriel had been restless since her great-grandniece had told her about the witch who might be able to help. Having one's soul tethered and trapped in a jar for over a hundred years tends to do that, especially when the prospect of freedom is talked about. She didn't appear at first, content to listen as her darling niece explained the situation, the curse, even if she did wince at the phantom pain the tale always sparked in the gaping wound in her chest.
She always made sure it was covered when she appeared to those friendly with her. Her family especially. Her sister Cassandra had fainted the first time she had appeared to her once the jar had been given to the family. Luckily, her granddaughter was not as fragile. Sweet Orilena, named for Oriel, the young woman, had explained when she discovered the jar tucked away in the attic of Cassandra's home after her death.
When she felt herself being passed in the jar, Oriel appeared to both women in the room, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, hiding the wound, but not the trickle of blood stains towards the hem of her crisp white blouse. She smiled warmly at her great-grandniece, her ghostly palm reaching out to cup her cheek tenderly, earning a tearful but warm smile in return despite the chill her touch sent through the living flesh.
"À bientôt, douce enfant." She whispered, her voice echoing just a tad in the home of the woman her kin trusted with her fate, before turning to face the witch with a more polite smile and curtsey, "Doctor Oriel Ravenmoore, mademoiselle, a pleasure."
@alyafae
