WHO: Charity Norman & [OPEN!] WHAT: Charity is returning from home after a rather depressing funeral. WHERE: The art room. WHEN: Today, this afternoon. RATING: TBD
A completely blank stare, it's what Charity Norman has been wearing since she recieved the letter from her family's lawyer about the death of her parents. Completely blank. No grin, no smirk. It was strange seeing Charity without her perpetual grin, nor any witty riddles or sayings to speak of. Completely emotionless and devoid of expression was then how she was returned to Cheshire Crossing. As promised the 'knave of hearts', brought her back in the alotted time, and without injury.
The kind-hearted gentleman handed her bags off the nurse greeting her, as Charity clutched to her violin case. Dressed in a corduroy Victorian styleddress. A pair of black patent leather mary jane shoes were on her feet. The nurse gave Charity a rather sympathetic smile, and told the girl she was all right to go and mingle with the general population. Not even bothering to look the woman in the eyes, Charity just slinked off, her movements listless and silent.
Turning down the hallway, she headed for the art room. Entering into the empty room, the girl didn't bother turning on the lights and just went to the window where she recieved the news of the death of her parents a few weeks prior. The sky was murky grey, as snow silently drifted down from it's clouds. The natural light from the purity of the white snow was all that shone through that plate glass window sending a chilling glow of white light into the room. Haunting, and captivating at the same time, Charity placed her violin case on the window sill, and opened it's case. Placing it beneath her chin, the bow was poised delicately as a somber a-flat rang out over the strings as she instantly began to play such a depressing song.
Piercing, and alluring hazel-green eyes closed to concentrate on the music playing from the violin, the notes slow, and flat like a funeral dirge. If she was capable of crying, she probably would be doing that at the moment, but instead her sorrow played out through her instrument. Coppery curls were pulled back with a black velvet ribbon, as a few strands framed her face. Body swayed slightly to the music, allowing the notes to wrap her up in a comforting blanket. In the darkened art room, standing in the light from the snow outside it was a dramatic look. Back facing the entrance, she faced the window, and allowed the light from the snow to hit that round face of hers.