Helen is sitting on the edge of the lake in the moonlight, considering ways of killing herself that might not allow her to return. She feared attempting to drown herself wouldn't even kill her properly, and letting herself starve was far too dangerous; even the few days without Pandora had strained her humanity and control a bit farther than she ( Read more... )

Though she's loathe to admit it, weeks of feeding properly under Pandora's supervision has made Helen calmer. Saner, at least in one sense of the word. Enough that she feels she can trust herself, going to the Mansion ( Read more... )

Helen has been awake for a little over a week now ( Read more... )

Helen is reading on the porch, though her eyes often flick up and out at the grounds, the way one does when enjoying the day is more the object than getting through one's book. Her look is thoughtful, but not strained.

She wouldn't mind company, old acquaintances or new.

Helen is poking around the Mansion, warily. She's been here long enough that she really does need to know where things are, other than the kitchen and the library. She's still wearing a cross quite visibly, and a light silk scarf around her neck ( Read more... )