"You're making it very hard to behave."
Lydia smiled to herself in the mirror, her eyes darting to meet the poltergeist before returning to her work. The mirror acted as a split-screen portal; half of it being reflective so she could work on her makeup, the other half a window into the Netherworld and allowing her to see Betelgeuse on the other side. The young woman’s eye makeup was deep and dramatic, accompanied by crimson lips so dark they were almost black.
“Am I?” Lydia feigned innocence as she clasped a choker around her pale neck; the spider broach he’d gotten her years ago for their anniversary.
Lydia grinned up at Betelgeuse and gave the padlock a gentle tug, the chains loosening from the bars and allowing the gate to swing open, ever so slightly. She let out a soft giggle and easily slipped through the opening of the gate, turning to motion for him to follow her into the dimly lit cemetery. She was positively giddy, and her voice was an excited whisper when she spoke.
“Never thought I’d do a B&E. What a terrible influence you are on me, Mr. Beetleman.”
Originally, Lydia had intended for them to either teleport back to her apartment, or catch a cab and cozy up together to watch the passing city lights on the way there. She felt lighthearted and sentimental tonight, and wanted to enjoy a romantic evening walk with her beloved husband.
It was of course, no surprise, that for Lydia, a romantic walk would lead them to a cemetery.
Greenwood was positively beautiful during the day, but at night, it was like an entirely different world. A quiet slice of morbid paradise, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city life. On a clear night, you could even see the stars. Once again, Lydia found herself at Betelgeuse’s side, her delicate hand in his as they walked the footpath that wound through the graves, the faint lantern light their only guide.
Lydia was practically luminescent. Her pale skin and dark eyes, set against the inky blackness of her hair and her dress, made her look as if she were a spectre from a victorian-era ghost story. She excitedly pointed out to Betelgeuse the different headstones and their symbolism–the meanings behind the carvings, the way the monuments had evolved over time whenever a previous style fell out of fashion. All things he most likely already knew, but she enjoyed talking to him about them, just the same.
They came to stop beside a large, old headstone and Lydia reached out to just barely touch the etched lettering with a delicate fingertip, her black nail polish glittering in the faint light.
“You know, supposedly, Mary Shelley learned how to read and write by tracing the names on headstones. Isn’t that fascinating?” She looked up at Betelgeuse then, and realized he’d been staring at her intently for a while, and felt herself blush. “Sorry, I’m being a nerd again, aren’t I?”
If his wife wanted to go into the cemetery, he was going to get her into the cemetery. These were just facts.
“Mmm, I do believe bein’ a terrible influence is part o’ my charm…Mrs. Beetleman,” he answered with grin and with another quick glance about, he went incorporeal to walk through the gates with ease to join her on the other side. Falling into step next to her, he became solid again, taking her smaller hand in his as they strolled through the graves, with only dim lanterns and the light of the moon to guide them. Not that Betelgeuse needed light to see.
Even though he was an expert on all things dead (not to mention helping his undertaker brother bury bodies when he was alive), he still loved to hear Lydia talk about everything she knew about burials and headstones and their carvings. She was like a walking, talking textbook for the history of funerals. Some people may find that odd, but the joy she took in the history of it all and how excited she was with every new thing she noticed….that was what made him hang on every word.
At her blush, he smiled, chuckling, “Yes, y’ are, but I like watchin’ y’ in yer element. Yer glowin’, babes, like yer a ghost yerself. Yer pale skin is lit up with the dim lanterns an’ the moonlight…plus that dress...” He dragged his gaze across her form, looking her up and down and admiring her. “Y’ look…ethereal even.”
“I gotta say…I’m enjoyin’ our romantic walk,” Betelgeuse explained. It was quiet in the cemetery. Though Betelgeuse himself was a noisy ghost, the hub bub of the city did prove to be a bit much for him on occasion. He blamed all the modern technology. All that energy zooming about could interfere with any ghost, even him. So being in a quiet cemetery with nothing but bones, grass, and stone for company was a nice change, if only for a little while. “I’m also glad that any ghosts here are keepin’ t’ themselves.”
At Betelgeuse’s compliments, Lydia felt her cheeks grow even warmer. She smiled, squeezing his hand gently as her eyes dropped bashfully to stare at the ground, settling on a lovely bouquet of wilted lilies placed at the base of a grave marker. Even after all this time together, and even after how passionate they could be with one another, his sweet flattery still surprised her. She felt his eyes on her, burning a hot trail over her skin as he admired her.
“Thank you,” Lydia said softly, finally looking back up at him. He still kept up his mortal disguise, but she could see him there–the corner of his mouth that turned up in a smirk, the wrinkle between his brows.
Betelgeuse was a being of pure, chaotic energy, but even he could appreciate the stillness and the silence in the air out here at Greenwood. He had turned his gaze out towards the expanse of the cemetery to admire it as well, and she continued to walk up the narrow path, her tiny hand sliding out of his grip as she went. She grinned a little at his comment about other ghosts and turned, stepping backwards carefully so that she could still see him and converse with him. When she spoke, her voice was teasing and playful, and she wiggled her fingers at him.
“Well, they’re probably scared of you, you know.” Lydia’s footsteps had led her off the path, until her heel scraped against the base step of a stately, ornate mausoleum. She turned and admired the marble-white structure before slowly ascending the stairs up to a round support column. She reached out, running her fingers across the rough stone before leaning against it and lacing her hands together behind her back. Lydia’s eyes met Betelgeuse again and she grinned down at him. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but you have just a bit of a reputation. Big, spooky poltergeist and all.”
“Of course, you don’t scare me,” Lydia continued, turning her eyes up to gaze at the stars as he crept silently up the path towards her. Out of nowhere, she felt like reminiscing and indulging in nostalgia. She closed her eyes then, leaning her head back against the column. “Even when you appeared as that giant snake to terrorize us all, I was more…curious about you, I guess. Wondered who you were, what other creepy things you could do…”
Lydia smiled to herself as she spoke quietly, enjoying the freedom to admit these things to Betelgeuse out loud. “I used to stare down at Adam’s model, at the little replica of the Winter River Cemetery. Sometimes,” she paused then, and her little pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Sometimes I’d hope to see you down there, looking up at me again.”
Opening her eyes again, Lydia expected to see him at the base of the mausoleum stairs or even right in front of her, possibly floating. She blinked and slowly looked around, her only company the nighttime sounds of the cemetery and her own heartbeat. Betelgeuse had disappeared.
Betelgeuse looked rather proud at her own compliments toward him, especially being called a big, spooky poltergeist, which made him nearly preen. If there was one way to best compliment a ghost…it was to call them scary. “Ah, well, can’t have everyone lovin’ me, can I? Then I’d hardly have th’ time fer those I really like.” Betelgeuse grinned up at her, giving her a wink. That circle of people was very small, and Lydia knew that very well.
Betelgeuse had intended to follow her right up to the mausoleum, but of course, then she said she wasn’t scared of him, which gave him pause. He didn’t want her to ever actually be afraid of him, mind you, but saying something like that? Well, that’s interesting just seemed like a challenge. It had been awhile since he gave Lydia a good scare. The last time had startled her, but in the end she was laughing delightfully. And so had Betelgeuse.
So, with a smirk, Betelgeuse disappeared from view, moving incorporeally towards her and around her, all while still listening to her every word. When Lydia was done talking and noticed she was alone, the iron of the ornate mausoleum opened next to slowly, its hinges creaking with some strain, as it likely happened been opened in decades. Cool air spilled from within the stone structure as it beckoning Lydia inside, while around her the cemetery was still quiet, other than the sound of crickets and the creaking of the few trees within the grounds.
