Who: Papa Ghede What: A sad discovery When: October 24th, very early Where: Cirque grounds, London alley Warnings: It's Ghede, so...death. Mentions of mutilation and murder.
So far, London had been fairly peaceful for Ghede. Oh sure, there was a higher concentration of spirit activity than normal, but then, London was a very old city. It had seen a lot of death in its day, and not all of it peaceful. He had taken the time to speak to any of the spirits he ran across on the grounds of the Tower, and some of them had very interesting stories to tell. Ghede had wiled away a very interesting afternoon just listening to them.
Tonight, though, he'd had duties to attend to, and a show to help run. The Cirque waited for no one, not even him, so he'd put on the best show he possibly could. Once it was done, and the spirits released and the puppets put away, Ghede had some time to himself before the gates closed. He was thinking of heading to the Midway, perhaps getting something to eat, when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, looking for the source, and that was when he saw her.
He sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Oh, cheri," he sighed sadly, advancing toward her slowly. In life, Bianca had been beautiful and vibrant, very much alive and inhabiting the space she was in. In death...in death was a different story. Her spirit was covered in wounds, though somehow that seemed like too mild a term for them. Her torso looked like someone had tried to carve her up like a turkey. Ugly, gaping wounds slashed across her abdomen, and her breasts looked as though someone had tried to hack them away. And her throat...the wound was so deep it probably would have showed some of her spine on her actual body.
Bianca's mouth opened and closed, frustration mounting on her face. She couldn't speak, that power had been taken from her by whoever had done this to her. She looked pleadingly at Ghede, begging him to help with her eyes. They were the only way she had left now.
"It's alright, cheri, it's alright," Ghede said soothingly. "Show me, then, if you can't speak. I'll follow where you lead."
Relief spread over her face, and she lifted one hand, beckoning him. He followed her off the Tower grounds, weaving through the crowds of people, doing his best not to lose sight of her. Eventually they were free, out into London proper, and she guided him through a maze of alleys and backstreets. As they turned down one, Ghede felt his spine stiffen. The aura of a violent death reared up and practically smacked him in the face. Down the alley, away from the street, he could see a crumpled shape lying on the ground.
Ghede sighed sadly, rolling his shoulders back as he stepped into the alley. This was the worst part of his job, dealing with the aftermath of those taken before their time. He knelt down next to her body, another soft sigh escaping him. Her eyes were open and vacant, staring at nothing. The wounds her spirit bore looked even worse up close, ugly, ragged, and caked with dried blood. Bianca glided to a stop next to him, her face crumpling as she looked at her physical form. Her mouth opened, and even though no sound came out, Ghede would have bet everything that she was sobbing.
"I'll take you home, cheri," he promised. "I won't just leave you here, I promise." A tiny spark of hope flickered in her eyes, and she drew a small sign in the air. Thank you.