(Untitled)

[notsoharmless]

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.

Random (

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[shelley_winters]

Shelley glances at the book as she makes her careful, slightly painful way past.

A slight smile. Then she remembers herself.

"Um... Good book?"

[notsoharmless]

"Rather," says Random, without looking up.

"Familliar with Poe?"

[shelley_winters]

"More or less," she says, tilting her head.

"'Quoth the Raven' and such?"

[notsoharmless]

"Yes, only not this one, in particular. I did name my bird for that poem, though."

She thinks a moment. Introductions have suddenly become rather complicated.

"I'm Lyrae Dent."

It doesn't sound bad.

[thedoctorwho]

The Doctor is also standing near the fireplace, idly poking at it as he watches the flames. He catches sight of the young girl and her book.

"It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee"

He sets the poker back into its place.

"Shall I call you that, then? Annabel Lee?"

[notsoharmless]

"And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me," Random replies, half-smiling.

"You can call me whatever you like. I don't mind having it changed."

It gets longer every day.

[thedoctorwho]

"Annabel it is, then. I'm the Doctor. You probably know that Annabel Lee was his last poem, yes? First printed only two days after his death. Some people thought that he'd written his own epitaph. Some even said he did it from beyond the grave."

[notsoharmless]

"I always thought," says Random, or maybe Annabel, "that it was for Virginia Clemm's grave that he may have written it. Poor Miss Clemm, or shall I say Mrs. Poe, unfortunate way life wrapped around her all the time to cause her troubles."

Rather like her own life.

It takes her another minute to get the name.

"Fenchurch's friend?"

[nita_callahan]

As Nita walks by, she catches a snatch of hummed music that stops her.

She turns, and considers Random for a moment, before walking back and settling onto the hearth.

"What're you working on?"

[notsoharmless]

"Finding the tones," she answers, running her hand down another page.

"My stepfather left notes in this book. Notes -- like words, and like music."

She has an eye for tone.

"Figuring out what it means."

[nita_callahan]

Oddly, that stings. She can't quite figure out the emotion, though, so she ignores it for the moment.

"Where'd you find it?"

[notsoharmless]

"In the desk. One that was his, but now it's mine."

She holds up a key, which reads '94.'

Sneaky girl, never even asked her parents.