(Untitled)

[vestalstone]

That the sky was clouded was the first thing Pierrette noticed that morning, the day cool and listless compared to some of the scorching days past. She spent her morning and afternoon daydreaming of a summer rain, delighting in the fantasy of dewy grasses and wet earth. She would find herself wandering out towards the beaches and hills to look out

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[somanytitles]

The girl up in the tree was an odd sight indeed. Climbing trees was not a foreign concept to Aragorn, indeed it was a both useful and enjoyable activity. Girl's whispering to fabric up in trees though, was rather odd.

"You have done quite an exceptional job getting up into the tree," Aragorn said, moving toward the base of the tree.

[vestalstone]

Had Pierrette been keen to look she would have found that on any day but this she would have been intimidated by such a man. Taller than Jerome's men and younger than many of them, but even compared to seasoned knights he would have been one to inspire much contemplation. Men of great stature and stance were a far more commonplace happening than they had once been in the past, but even as Piers she had put as much distance between herself and such men as she could.

As it was she barely glanced his way, shimming her way over branches that tugged and caught the soft linen of her skirt.

"There is only one exceptional thing in this place," she disagreed, her pace frantic. "And that is such cruel sorcery."

[somanytitles]

"Is that a dress?" Aragorn asked. It was a lot of fabric, but fine material and cut and bunched in ways that no bolt of fabric would be. He wondered if it had perhaps blown up into the tree and she had chased after it.

"And indeed the island can be cruel many times. I do not know if it has anything like a mind, but if it does it is not a pleasant one. Do you need help?"

[vestalstone]

"It is a token of such an evil I can not speak," she denied, feet scraping against the rough bark. Her fingers and toes were scratched, her skin rubbed with dirt and flaking lichen. "One of which holds no place here. I was a fool to believe I would ever be free of it." She had burned the wretched thing. With the priest Otho and her father ushered away she had peeled it from her unflinching sister, seen the bruises on her hips and the blood on her thighs. She had bundled the mess and thrown it into the cooking pit, and let the flames scorch the fine lace brown.

Such sorcery was evil, and even her inquisitive nature found no joy in it.

[lastof_five]

The jungle was useful for a great many things, most notably Helen's own cataloging of island species and that was what found her there today, trying to see how many distinct species of monkey lived on their island. She hadn't gotten very far, though, before she heard something and looked up to see a girl in a tree.

Pierrette.

"Pierrette? Is that you up there? You're far more nimble than I am."

[vestalstone]

For a moment the situation was far too familiar and Pierrette was struck with it, reminded of how only so many months ago she had been climbing another tree to hear Helen's voice below her. It was enough to slow her, and bracing herself against a branch she wiped furiously at the hot tears on her cheeks. She allowed a moment of stillness, a ragged breath shuddering out of her when she looked to see the gown was still gently wafting in the breeze.

"Miss Helen," she said, finding another foothold and looking down towards the woman. "I am afraid of this place. Not even Ma would test me in this way."

And with that, she hauled herself up even further.

[lastof_five]

That was different than usual and despite her normal hesitation about such things, Helen moved to pull her shoes off to begin the climb up.

"Would you like me to come up so we can talk about it? I can assure you, whatever it is, I won't let it hurt you."

Helen felt close to many of the young people on the island but Pierrette had a special place in her heart because of her gentle nature and her disconnect with the modern era and, as such, Helen was more than a little protective of her and her interests.

[vestalstone]

It was a touching notion, one which gave Pierrette pause and had her craning her neck to glance back towards the woman. She liked Helen, she had never found anything in the wise woman's good nature to spite, and at that moment she craved nothing more than to reach for her, eager for some kind of warmth and comfort where only pain pulsed through her troubled heart. Tears glided quietly down her cheeks, her sniffles muffled as she pursed her lips, breath ragged from straining her tired arms to lift her weight. Her father would have been so ashamed of her just then, acting like the girl he wished she had never been. She was surely Pierrette now, all traces of the headstrong Piers gone from her wet eyes.

"This is evil," she insisted, head jerking to stare back at the innocently hanging gown. "It is nothing but evil. Such a thing should not exist, not when I had burned it to ash long before I fell to this place. Surely this is work of the Christian Satan, for he mocks me of the memory."

[only_son]

There are still moments, fewer now than before yet no less jarring, when Clark is suddenly and tangibly reminded of all the things he can no longer do now that he's on the island. Today it happens in the form of a wispy girl perched in the high branches of a tree. He likes to believe that he's aware of his surroundings, but it's only the faintest whisper of a voice that draws his attention upwards. Back home, the discordant rattle of the branches would have been like thunder.

He sets aside his dismay and shades his eyes with a hand as he peers up at her. Or, at what of her he can see, which is mostly spindly legs and the flap of linen and lace.

"Be careful up there," he calls. For all he knows she's more at home in the trees than on the ground, but the sentiment remains.

[vestalstone]

The sudden voice startles her, just enough for her head to whip aside to peer down past the branches at the stranger standing at the tree base. For s split second her pride is wounded, a girlish fear running through her as she tries to imagine the state she is in. High in a tree with blotchy face and tears stinging at her eyes and cheeks, arms scratched and streaked with dirt and lichen. But as soon as it happens she shakes her head of such silly thoughts and wipes at her nose with her hand, the arms holding balance aching from strain.

"If I were not already being careful, I would not be up here." She called, and began pulling herself up again. The wedding gown had not moved, and still hung on the branch above her like a crestfallen bird, crumpled and lost.

She hated it.

Thinking for a moment, she picked her handhold and called down a second time. "And what have I to fear? With you standing there you may break my fall."

[only_son]

"Wouldn't be the first time someone used me for that," Clark has to allow, his eyes sharp as they track the girl's movements through the branches. She looks nimble enough, but all it would take is one false step or a rotten branch, and it could go bad.

"I'm just going to stay here until you're safely back on the ground, if that's okay," he calls again, worry creasing his forehead. "It's nothing personal."

[vestalstone]

It was considerate, so much so that even in her frenzied state Pierrette could acknowledge so. Another day in another place she may have questioned him, perhaps even found sturdy purchase on some high branch to wait out his leave. But as disrupted as her tempered days had become, there was a distant comfort to know there was someone to stand watch, to be there should her desperate climb leave her a broken puppet, strings cut and left to tumble to sure destruction.

"If you must," she allowed, but her words were mumbled as she straddled a large branch. The gown fluttered in a small gust of wind, hem and sash flapping in the breeze like a mocking flag, pretty and whimsical against the green of the flora.

Fresh tears stung at her eyes, and her mouth grew to a pinched and straight line. "If I were to fall," she wondered. "Would you do something for me?" It was an odd notion to humor, much less with a stranger, but the heaviness which hung on her heart told her to was crucial.

[ghostinthecity]

It was pretty, whatever it was. Annie liked pretty things, liked how they could contrast against other things. There was something pretty about the flash of white against the dark of the tree. The girl was pretty too, in that faraway sort of way. It made sense that they were all up there together.

"Hullo there," she greeted with a wave, tilting her head up towards the branches. "Enjoying a little climb then? It's been ages since I've climbed a tree and even then it wasn't well done."

[vestalstone]

Pierrette was midway between branches when she was startled into looking down, one thin leg dangling off the edge of her perch, eyes red and wet. She wondered if she knew this woman and in her haste and emotional state had merely forgotten her somehow, but as her eyes focused and she wiped furiously at the tears staining her face she came to the conclusion that no, this was just some brazen stranger come to question her.

"What?" She questioned, heart thudding against her breastbone like a frenzied bird. "I enjoy nothing in this," she insisted, streaking her face with dirt when she wiped at her tears. "You should run from this place, an evil sorcery has come to it."

[ghostinthecity]

"Oh."

The moment Annie saw the girl's tear streaked face she regretted what she had said. The smile that had been on her face faded away, replaced with concern and worry. It was never good to be sad and alone.

"Has it?" Perhaps encouraged by suggestion alone, a shiver ran down her spine and she looked over her shoulder quickly before looking back up at the girl. "What sort of sorcery?"

[vestalstone]

"Treacherous sorts." Her tone was grave, and in her mind's eye she could see Anselm scolding her for such an emotional outburst. He would tell her it was a dress, an awful dress which brought far too much baggage with it, but something earthly with no power over her. But she knew this to be wrong, felt in deep in her bones and in the roar of the blood rushing through her body. It was evil, it was sorcery. And she would not be a victim to it, whether it was Jerome's evil or that of Satan himself.

"Nothing which has burned to ash should be reformed, and nothing which has been so tainted with evil should exist. This wretched thing was once an item of joy, now only pain and greed stains the very fibers of it. It is an omen of dangerous tides to come, this I feel."

[provincialbelle]

Belle caught the very tail end of some words spoken (too quiet for her to take note), but it was the height of the girl in the tree that alarmed her. She stopped in her walk to turn her attention to the girl and the object, watching her with wary concern. "Are you...are you all right?" she asked, her attention on the object. "What is that?" she continued, gentle as she could be.

[vestalstone]

Her cheeks stung from the hot tears that stained them, and from where thin reedy branches had scratched the tender skin. Her breath shuddered, scarce and harsh from her chest and when she glanced down through clouded eyes she saw the woman, straight and all and so very far down. She sniffed loudly, fingers clasped tightly against her handholds as her lean muscles strained from pulling her weight.

"Please," she rasped. "This is an evil thing, you should leave it. Such a sorcery has no place here and you should flee from it." The gown wafted gently, the satin of the sash shining fetchingly in a brief ray of sunlight. "It should not be here. It is a foul thing, one which was burned. Evil is taunting me, a cruel ploy is the only thing to bring it here."

[provincialbelle]

Belle couldn't understand how such a thing could be evil. It was, after all, just a piece of clothing, wasn't it? Belle stepped closer, pressing her palm to the rough bark of the tree and staring up at her. "Can you at least come down? Will you come down here and tell me why?" She was worried, she had to admit that much.

[vestalstone]

"It must be destroyed. It can not be here, it can not be found here. If she were to ever come and to find it, it would ruin her, it would break her again this I am sure." She was babbling, her words falling from her mouth unbidden by her mind. But this cruel ploy could not stand, and the gown could not be allowed to flaunt itself high in the canopy, seemingly gentle and whimsical to any passerby. She wouldn't have been able to stand it, to allow innocents to walk by and be caught by its loveliness when she knew the truth of it.

Her arms ached, and her fingers were sore and scratched. She pulled herself up farther, closer now still, and she knew with a few more she could reach out and grab it, even if she thought of touching the soft lace made her stomach churn. "Please allow me this, I am so close."