The wind was particularly strong, whipping around the spines and carved skulls of Acherus. The sharp, jutting stones made it howl mournfully as the air currents were divided and rejoined, the sound blending nicely with the overall atmosphere of the Ebon Hold.
For Beckyann, the strong air currents were more of a nuisance as they blew her hair in her face and whipped the hem of her dress about, exposing her calves and, one time at least, her thighs before she managed to tame the wildly flapping material. She smirked as she pushed her dress back down, knowing that no one in the Hold would see her where she was or would have cared to look anyway.
She drew her knees up against her chest, her bare feet pressed against the cold stones of Acherus as she sat atop one of the Hold's carved skulls, the view below her a dizzying plunge down to the polluted ground of the plaguelands below. If she peered hard enough, she was even able to see the spot where Lewin must have landed when she'd tossed him over the railing in recent weeks.
While a living person might question the sanity of sitting atop the stone structure in the howling, somewhat chilly wind in nothing more than a black summer dress, for Beckyann it was perfectly normal. She didn't feel the chill, and ever since she'd died and been raised she had lost her fear of heights; they were hardly something to be concerned with when one didn't have many active nerve endings after all. The stone skull was the perfect perch to sit upon for some privacy while she was outside enjoying the view.
She shifted in place, reaching past where she'd left her shoes to pick up the other object she'd brought with her; a battered old journal from her childhood. It had been a diary of sorts as well as the place where she'd first begun recording her earliest spells, and even now she often enjoyed thumbing through it to see what she'd written or to make new entries at the back of the small book. Although she was hardly in the habit of keeping a regular journal, it sometimes was nice to mark important events so she could look back at them later on. She opened the book to make a new entry, the pages flapping in her hands as another gust of wind blew past. She stopped them, her hands holding the book open and she looked down, smiling at the writing there. She began to read, memories flowing through her...
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"I tried my best," Beckyann said, her twelve year old voice brave but holding a trembling bit of sorrow in it.
"I know you did Becky," her father said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. The contact was comforting and made her feel a little better, as his presence always did. "Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can't fix a thing. The poor dear was sick when you found him, and we can't help that. The important part is that you made him as comfortable as you could, right?"
Beckyann sniffled, looking down at the small grave they'd dug in the brown soil, a little rock marking the spot where the bird had been buried, "Y-yes I guess that's true. I just wish he could have gotten better."
She'd found the little bird in the woods near Corin's Crossing. Its wing had been broken and it had been on the ground for some time, and she'd scooped it up and brought it home to nurse it back to health. Unfortunately it had been too ill and too malnourished to survive for long and had succumbed to its injuries after only a few days. The young child had been devastated to find it dead, and her parents had done their best to help her through it by giving the little creature a burial and trying to encourage her to feel better.
They both stood quietly for a time, looking at the small memorial before Beckyann's father reached down and took his daughter's hand, smiling at her, "Come with me Becky, I have something I want to show you."
Curious, Beckyann allowed her father to lead her along by the hand as the two walked around the small shack where they lived, away from the memorial. Beckyann's curiosity grew as her father lead her into the little shed he used as a workshop for the odds and ends that he and her mother did for the people of the Crossing. It was rare that she was allowed in the shop, especially given that she was not very handy with most of the work her parents did, so it was a treat to see inside it.
Her father turned and scooped Beckyann up, plopping her down on one of his workstools and smiling at her. She giggled as she settled into place, craning her head to see the tools and projects he was working on. He blocked her view though, turning and fumbling with things on the surface of the table as she waited impatiently for whatever surprise he had for her.
As she waited, the a shadow appeared in the doorway and Beckyann turned to see her mother standing there, the blonde haired woman smiling at her daughter and holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hand. Her interest further piqued, Beckyann turned around again after smiling at her mother to see her father had turned towards her, holding something in his hands. He reached out, holding it before her.
It was a beautiful little necklace, the charm on it made by hand by her parents and shaped from silver to look like a little bird. For the poor family, the little scraps of silver and lead that were used to make the necklace were worth quite a bit, and the fact that her parents had made her such a thing made Beckyann gasp, her eyes wide as she reached out with her little hands to take the necklace. Shaking, she slipped it over her head, admiring the way it looked on her.
Behind her, Beckyann's mother had walked up, placing a hand on her shoulder and handing her the cup of hot chocolate, smiling down at her, her voice soothing, "We're proud of you Becky. You did all you could for that little bird. You can't always stop bad things from happening in the world, but as long as you do your best that is all that matters. Do everything you can to stop the bad and to make things right. We know that no matter what the future holds, you've learned that lesson and we're both so proud of you."
Little Beckyann beamed up at her mother as she embraced her, her father stepping forward to hug his daughter as well. Locked in the embrace, it was a moment that Beckyann would never forget and something she'd later write in her diary to remember the day. Although that little necklace was long lost to time now, she could still remember the moment she felt it around her neck, the love of her family surrounding her.
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Beckyann sighed, removing her thumb from the page and letting the wind blow the pages around, losing her place in the book. The memory was of a happier time, a time and place that no longer existed and never could again. And yet, as she thought about it, she began to wonder what her parents would think of her now. How would they see her? Would they see the monster she'd become? Would they have been proud of her accomplishments after they died? Would they have approved of Frederick?
Was she truly doing her very best? She could never again stand and stop the 'bad' as they'd put it, but was she doing everything she could? Did she fight the monster within or embrace it?After a moment, the answer came to her, the stray thought popping to mind and slipping into place neatly.
I am doing the best I can for my 'family' now. For my brothers and sisters. For those people who have suffered more than any living person could ever know. I protect them where I can, rein them in where they threaten us all. Can I do any better than this? Is there any greater work I can perform in this state as I am?
Beckyann smiled, shaking her head and closing the little journal in her hands, holding it tightly against her chest. The answer was right there, in the memory of a distant time. Her parents would hate what she'd become, but they would still be proud of her for making the best of her situation. Perhaps, one day far in the future if her soul were ever released from the curse of undeath she would see them again, and then she'd know for sure how they felt. Until that time, she would simply do the best she could, and hope that they would be proud of their lost daughter.
She set the journal down, a smile on her black lips as she looked out over the distant landscape, letting the memories of the past flow through her mind like the sands of an hourglass.
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