Beckyann slowly sank down into the sun-warmed grass, a smile on her face as she settled her dress around her. The black silken material lay across the green lawn like a pool of darkness, the fabric glinting in the light of the afternoon. The tips of her designer shoes poked out from the edge of one side of the fabric as she idly reclined.
In front of her was a beautifully carved headstone with a loving inscription on it. It had two magically burning candles on either side of the words in black iron sconces, and around the base if it was a small reflecting pool with additional, floating magic candles. All in all, the entire memorial was a work of art, carefully crafted to the smallest detail and lovingly maintained. It was sights like this that stirred a small part of what was left of her humanity, and she often sought out the most beautiful memorials amongst those in Stormwind's cemetery.
As she sat and reflected on the monument, her black-painted nails casually ran across the blades of grass all around her. She plucked a few, idly rubbing them between her fingers before letting the wind take them, her eyes glued on the inscription as she pondered what it meant to have a family that loved you so much that they would create such a work of art.
"Hey! Just what do you think you're doing?! Get away from there!" a voice drifted over to her, sounding angry.
Beckyann turned, frowning as she saw a man in a flowing white robe approaching at a march. Belatedly she realized that she had pushed her glasses up on her head to better read the inscription, and obviously the man had spotted her and recognized what she was. She stayed where she was, sitting in the grass as he stormed over.
"I said get away from there you foul thing!" the man declared, coming to within a foot of the edge of her dress that was pooled around her.
Beckyann looked up at the man, appraising him before responding in a calm tone, "Why should I do that? Is this cemetery not a free place within the city for citizens to come and visit? Why am I to be excluded from this peaceful place, and why by a man of the cloth?"
The man's eyes bugged at her response and he straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. His billowing white robe fluttered as he shifted in agitation. He barked out a barely civil response, "Because you are an evil thing and this is a holy place meant for goodly folk to mourn their lost loved ones!"
Beckyann sighed, slowly reaching out and grabbing the hem of her dress as she rose, keeping it orderly as she came to stand upright. She idly noted that her efforts did not stop the man, who was clearly a priest, from taking a glance at her still-shapely, if somewhat undead legs before her dress fell into place. She smiled in wry amusement.
A man of the cloth indeed.
She tilted her head, curiosity crossing her face, "And why am I evil? Because of what I've become? Because of what I've done? It was my understanding that evil is a conscious choice, and that to be evil, one had to commit evil intentionally."
The priest offered her a glare before gesturing at the monument, "Because you are here to defile the graves of honest men and women who deserve rest!"
Beckyann blinked at this, looking at the memorial before replying, "I am doing NO SUCH THING sir. This monument is a thing of beauty, a testament to the love and honor that the family of the deceased gives to the dead. I would never despoil such a thing."
This seemed to take the priest by surprise, and he stopped glaring long enough to give her another look over, "You lie. Your kind always despoils the resting places of the dead. You are MADE of evil, and everything about you is tainted with it!"
Beckyann sighed, rolling her eyes before absently bringing a hand up to check her nails, "We could go about this all day, but I will be honest with you. Yes, sometimes I do enter the resting places of the dead and 'defile' them as you say. The tombs and crypts that I visit are of people whose family has long since passed into the next life. I can assure you that the dead do not give a damn about these little monuments, and the places that I enter are not tended to or cared for by the living any longer. It is no different than archaeologists that unearth ancient burial sites. At all other times, the dead that I handle are criminals or malcontents who this society has cast off and who they would not care a thing about. Do you HONESTLY think I would risk the wrath of the living by coming to the middle of this city and defiling a grave? Do I look like a complete idiot?"
The words seemed to stun the priest for a moment. He alternated between glaring at Beckyann and peering at her to see if she was serious. He sputtered a few times, his hands waving almost comically in the air, "You are still made of foul, evil magic! The very Light burns creatures like you! You do not belong here, or anywhere else!"
Beckyann sighed, shaking her head, "As I said before, evil is a conscious choice. I could have slaughtered you the minute you blocked the sunlight I was reclining in, but I CHOSE not to do so because I am NOT rampantly evil. I cannot control what was done to me, or what the make up of my form is!"
She paused, giving him a critical look, "And believe me, I would NOT be here, within a city of the living, if I had a choice. But what choice do you give me? If I go somewhere alone, to mind my own business do you think your kind would leave me be? Or would you grow suspicious of what I was doing and track me down? Is it better to be secretive and hated, or risk going out amongst you and at least doing enough good so that you and your kind leave me be? Or am I hoping for something that I am simply never allowed to have now?"
The priest shook his head, his eyes narrowed and his face stern, "It would be better for all of us if you leave. Actually, it would be better for all of us if you had never been created. You are an abomination to the Light, regardless of the honeyed words that might slip from your mouth."
Beckyann's composure failed for a moment, and she leaned very close to the priest, her black lips curled into a sneer, "I did not ASK to be created. I did not ASK the Scourge to torture me to death. I did not ASK to watch my nation die a horrible death. Do not presume to think I am ASKING you for permission to exist. You will find that, when forced to, I can commit quit a bit of what you call evil to protect my rights under the King's law. Good day to you sir."
In a huff, she gathered her skirts at her hips and stormed off amongst the headstones, her movements signaling her fury. Behind her, the priest merely shook his head sadly, making a blessing in the air in the direction she had headed before turning to rededicate the headstone and ground where she'd been sitting.
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