[IN DEATH'S EMBRACE]

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

The golden haired vixen checked her appearance once more in the mirror-- looking flawless as usual. Was she vain? Of course. She knew she was attractive. Some people liked that trait, others didn’t, whether or not they cared-- she didn’t. She was who she was and she didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. The girl glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in her bedroom and took a mental note of the time-- 3:21 am. It was always 3:21. No matter what she did, 321 popped up. If she opened a book, bam. If she looked at a clock, bam. It was always there. She knew what it was, though. It was the spirit world-- their energy was causing her to shift her attention to clock to genuinely let her know they were still there. Like she ever didn’t know, though.

The girl shook her head slightly, turning her attention back to the mirror; however, in stead of seeing only herself, she saw a slightly disfigured shadow-like man standing behind her. His face suffered burning in the third degree. His bottom lip was missing, as was his nose. This wasn’t the first time this man had came to her. He wouldn’t talk, though. She honestly had no idea who he was-- with no communication, what could she do? She assumed it was one of the asylum’s mutes that died in, obviously, a fire. Her body spun around as she placed her ass on the counter, staring at the man with pain in his eyes. “I wish you’d tell me who you are…” The girl said softly, taking in his features.

Before anything else was said, Hera’s cat darted in the room and on the bed, hissing at the apparition. Hera shifted her attention immediately to the cat, sighing. “Bad! What have I told you about that?” Her attention moved back to where the man was standing, but he was gone. It was most likely the cat’s fault. She had always had a feeling cats had some sort of connection with the spirit world… it was said by ancient Chinese tales that cats warded off evil spirits… she didn’t know. Like said, she never had the chance to speak with the man that had stood before her.

Her shoulders shrugged slightly as she moved out of her bedroom, turning off the lights and moving to the kitchen. The female grabbed the cupcakes she made and proceeded to the living room. Her eyes shifted down to her aardvark, and a smile crept gently on her painted lips. “Does Ares want to hang out with Mama tonight?” She grabbed her pet’s leash and gently attached it to his collar before snatching up her messenger bag and walking out of her apartment room- Ares following behind her. The girl looked down the hall, catching a spirit drifting down the staircase. See, this was nothing new to her. Half of the time she couldn’t tell if spirits were actually alive or not because of how clearly she could see them. Sometimes, however, they looked more grainy than the living-- she assumed it was because of the differences in the dimensions.

The girl stretched her arms over her shoulders, gave a yawn, and started down the hallway. She honestly loved her gift. There were a good bit of mediums that hated what they were put through-- being waken up in the middle of the night, dealing with loved ones, and so on. But Hera didn’t mind it. She was actually quite fascinated with the spirit world. All they wanted was peace-- most of the time. Now of course she had met her fair share of the “unholy kind,” Hades’s servants, if you will. That was an interesting experience, as well. She had been haunted on several occasions, but would never run to a priest for help. Why? Because that would draw out all the spirits and Hera didn’t mind most of them.

After walking for several minutes and arriving at the asylum gates, Hera pulled out her identification card, flashed it to the scanner, and then was let inside the gated premises. See, that was something new the asylum had tried out-- keeping the place secure. That meant that no one could get in or out without a card. And of course on top of that they had a guard station outside-- just incase something in the system fucked up.

The girl walked inside the building-- which was eerie and rather quiet, just how she liked it. Her eyes took in her surroundings as she walked down the hallways, passing several of the old, troubled spirits that had once been filled of life… sorta. They were at an asylum, so they were as alive as they could be. One woman, who had matted, ratty gray hair, was a regular. Hera had seen her every night. She had tried to talk to her, but the woman was too far gone. She could only laugh hysterically while holding the gashes that bled out on her-- the self-inflicted wounds that covered her wrists… her demise. In other words, Hera didn’t bother talking to her anymore.

Did the spirits bother her? Eh. It depended. Sometimes they did, but normally they didn’t. She had no fear towards them. The only ones that ever gave her issues were the demonic. They generally saw the whole “medium” thing as an open door to fuck with someone’s head. They took advantage of her skills. She wasn’t like most people-- she couldn’t just see them sometimes. Hera generally always saw them no matter how weak or how powerful the demon may be. It was a thing she didn’t care for, but she’d live. Seeing a spirit ahead that often times messed with her pets, Hera bent down and quickly scooped up Ares, continuing to walk down the hall and right through the troubled male spirit that refused to ever move and always stood his ground.

After a few more moments, the girl approached the mortician’s corner, as she called it, and flipped on the lights. Her eyes adjusted to the illumination off of all the metal, the cold room sending chills up her spine. Hera entered the room and set down her aardvark-- who happened to have a sweater on--, placed her cupcakes on the counter, pulled and energy drink from her bag, and walked over to the CD player. The girl popped in a CD that she had next to the player and hit play. What CD? In Sorte Diaboli by Dimmu Borgir, of course. The metal erupted through the room as she smiled to herself. Ahhh yes. The incredibly satanic Dimmu Borgir. She loved them. She really did. They were fantastic, as were most bands like them.

The girl turned on her heels to the metal table, looking at the black body bag that laid for her to take care of. “I can’t ever get a break, huh?” The female shook her head and pulled it quickly back into a messy ponytail before walking over to the small section on the counter that contained several different medical equipment things. The female put a mask over her mouth and quickly slapped on some gloves before moving back to the table and unzipping the bag, her eyes widening slightly. “Daaammmmnnnn.” She said to herself, looking at the multiple abrasions that covered the male’s face… well, what was once a face, that is. “Somebody didn’t like you, huh?” Her attention shifted back to the medical sheet laying on the counter and she skimmed over the details very quickly.

“Was a guard. Had previously been in a fight with… oh of course.” The female shook her head. Who else could it be? “Marcellus Capone.” Her eyes shifted to the table as she stood next to it, still holding her clipboard and sheet as she skimmed over the male. “Huh… previous stab wound.” She muttered, her middle finger and pointer finger gently running over the scar the larger male had on his stomach. “This should be interesting.” It always was…

WORD COUNTxx
¹³³⁴
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{i need to get her to open up to me so I can see what she grew up in ^^}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

"There's a reason for everything," she said simply, a shrug of her shoulders accompanying her words. The other girl looked at her suspiciously, "Do you really believe that?" She laughed. "I'm dead. What else is there to believe in?" The second girl considered this for a moment, and then nodded, seeing the reasoning.They talked for a while, inside a world that was only their own. And then there were screams.

R.J. was suddenly no longer in the sick girls dreams. She was standing next to the girl she had been conversing with moments before, the girl fast asleep. But still the screams continued. The young woman covered her ears, trying to block the horrible noise out, but they were inside her head, echoing their treacherousness cry around her brain. In a wisp of smoke, the ghost suddenly disappeared.

She followed the creams throughout the asylum, locating them within only a few minutes with an energy she didn't know quite how to control. And though it did only take her a few minutes to find the man who belonged to the screams, it proved to be a few minutes too late. When she arrived, two large guards were hauling someone off, while a third guard stayed lying on the floor, gulping for air through his mutilated face. R.J. went to him, sat by his side, cradled his head.

The moment of dying is a very confusing one for a soul. When it starts to lose hold of the body, the soul becomes disoriented, and sometimes very scared. That was why R.J. could cradle the mans head in her lap at that moment; his soul was confused as to what was body and what wasn't, and it created a circumstance that allowed contact from both realms, spiritual and physical. It was at this stage of dying that the young ghost found she was called to them, and she knew it was her job to help them pass on, just as she helped the living go to sleep when they found themselves restless. She sang to him,

"Goodnight my angel. Time to close your eyes. And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me. I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promise I would never leave you. And you should always know, I never will be far away."

She could feel his heartbeat slow as she sang her song. R.J. knew that he was hearing her; she could feel his soul calm and give way to her music, releasing it's hold of the body that bound it here to earth. She stroked his hair, continuing her song to ease him through his death, her voice and her hands, her very presence even, was soft and comforting, inviting.

Her music worked in the same way as binural beats did, working on the brain and relaying messages through sound. The frequencies worked like pressure points, activating certain parts of the brain-- some released endorphins, others induced depression, some even told the brain to create hallucinations. R.J.'s voice worked like an anesthetic, reducing pain and inducing sleep. When listening to her voice long enough, one would find themselves usually painless, lethargic, or even blissful, sometimes all of the above.

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep. And still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me. When we went sailing on a emerald bay. And like a boat out on the ocean. I'm rocking you to sleep. The water is dark and deep inside this mother's heart. You'll always be a part of me."

She smiled when his soul finally let go. His body went limp. She looked around, making sure his spirit hadn't lingered, which happened sometimes, and then set his body's head down gently on the floor. Just as she did so, another man came in and took away the body. And then R.J. Dissolved into smoke, her job done.

Increments of time measured much differently to spirits. Although it seemed like only moments later to R.J., she knew it was nearly a day later when she reappeared in her wiff of smoke. She looked around, and found herself in the mortuary room, a woman with bright blonde hair in front of her. The mortician, obviously. She stood over the body of the man she'd sang to sleep what seemed like only moments before.

She vanished and then came back again, this time appearing on the side of the table opposite of the woman. Being close to her, she could instantly feel the energy of the woman tapping into her own, which meant that she could be seen and talked to without any effort on R.J.'s part. This blonde woman was a medium, a psychic.

R.J. looked down at the body, and spoke to the woman, her tone of voice very conversational. "I made sure he died peacefully. Though he took quite a beating, I must say." She leaned in to get a better view, "You know, one would think that being dead would make you immune to seeing dead bodies, but it's still sad to see." Vanishing again in her smoke, she reappeared right next to the woman, but was still looking at the body that lay before them. "I wonder if he was cute."

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
eight eight six
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
her song she sang to the guard

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

Hera took a deep inhale of the room, closing her eyes for a brief moment before she would start her work. “Formaldehyde… gotta love it.” The female grinned to herself as she reopened her eyes, staring down at the man with the mutilated face. In all honesty, he was unrecognizable. She wouldn’t have even known his name if the other guards didn’t write it down first. And his name… She skimmed over the sheet hooked to the clipboard before running over his name, “Russell Scotts.” She then shifted her attention back to the male. “I think you pissed someone off, Buddy.” She wasn’t taunting the dead, just talking to them- something she did quite often, actually.

“So apparently you were laying in the hallway at the time of the accident, correct?” Her eyes skimmed over the body, as if expecting him to answer her. Of course she had had bodies talk back to her before, but not this one. No, he was long gone. “Happy trails.” She smiled softly before shifting her gaze back to the clipboard and wrote down where he was found and, from the looks of his body, the time of death. “Looks like… 11 pm… she’s a few hours old by skin discoloration.” She jotted down the number before shifting her attention back to the male. It was always nice knowing at least some of the souls found their ways home- that they weren’t stuck in this asylum past death. She tried to help them if she could, but it wasn’t all that easy for the living to do.

Her eyes shifted to the scale that was attached to the table and wrote down the weight of the male, “One-eighty-seven. Not bad. Looks like… six feet even.” Her eyes began trailing over the body as the pen between her fingers began jotting away at the information she spat out. “Bruises along the neckline. Blood located under his nails- from fighting back, I assume… so that must be the assailant’s blood- well, we already know who that is, though.” The female muttered the last part before continuing once more. “Multiple stab wounds to the face- possibly over thirty, it’s hard to calculate. Not much facial tissue can be seen left, though.” Hell, the man’s face was so red from all the dried blood it was impossible to tell for sure. She knew the guards had cleaned him up some, and they did good enough- she’d clean him up some more after her dissection.

“Time to get down to business.” The female turned her neck to the left quickly and then to the right, causing it to pop several times. She then proceeded to pop her fingers before letting out a happy sigh. “I love my job.” She felt a presence- a spirit in the room with her. She just didn’t acknowledge him or her yet. The female placed the clipboard on the table behind her, and by the time she turned back around, the female figure was leaning over the table, looking at the man. Yup, she thought someone was in there with her. And generally when she had that feeling, she was right. Her eyes shifted momentarily to Ares, her aardvark, but he was happily sleeping underneath a table in the room.

The spirit’s voice echoed through the room, although if someone else was to walk in their they wouldn’t hear her. See, that was the thing. It didn’t take effort for Hera to hear the dead- none whatsoever. She was always easy with communicating with them. “I can tell- this body didn’t speak back.” Hera smirked slightly towards the spirit before shrugging her shoulders. “The ones that don’t pass over normally speak back to me.” A spirit would probably understand, not many others did, though. In fact, they though she was crazy- so she barely told anyone else about her little psychic abilities. “I try to help them when I can- most can be stubborn towards the living.” Spirits were normally terrified, so why would they run to the living? After all, most of the time people that are still alive can’t see or hear them anyways. “Guess they don’t want to get their hopes up.”

At the part about immunity to the dead, Hera shrugged her shoulders lightly. “They don’t effect me… but that’s a good thing.” It sounded odd, but it was true. It really was good that Hera lacked a lot of emotions. “If it bothered me I wouldn’t be able to be a mortician.” Hera grabbed the scalpel and started at the left collarbone, pushing it down and cutting the skin until she hit the sternum. She then did the same with the right side and carried the line in a perfectly straight line down to the pubic bone- but made sure she cut around the bellybutton. “I’d tell you but I can’t really see his face now.” Hera commented about whether the male was cute- dry humor, she was infamous for it.

Hera peeled back the flaps of flesh, the chest flap falling over the male’s face as the other two flaps hung over to the side. The guard’s insides were now exposed- all the organs, rib cage, and so on. Her eyes skimmed over the body before she glanced over at the cupcakes and energy drink, then back to the partially dissected man. “He was an organ donor.” In other words, she’d be removing all the organs that were of good use- anything that is still useful, at least. The heart- no. Eyes-no. Hell, she really didn’t know if much of anything would be useful. She lifted her eyes to the spirit. “How’d you pass?” She asked before peeling the gloves off of her hands and tossing them in the garbage can- then snatched up a cupcake and began eating it. Yeeeaaahhh… she wasn’t your normal girl- she had a strong stomach on her.

WORD COUNTxx
⁹⁷⁹
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{yay for a reply!}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

Being dead had its advantages and disadvantages. R.J. found traveling from place to place much easier than it had ever been while living-- though she couldn't leave the asylum. She also could pick up on peoples thoughts, especially while they were sleeping. But she couldn't move things, or, at the very least, she couldn't move them very often. She'd have to be incredibly worked up to move a pencil half an inch across a desk. Major bummer in her eyes, but she learned to deal.

"Huh. Bodies talking back. That's got to be some sort of major creepy." She commented, but felt some sort of sense of accomplishment when the woman acknowledged that she had been the one to pass him over. R.J. didn't talk to people often, and now that she could, she felt glad that she was finally getting some credit for the good things she did-- or at least one of the good things she did. It was enough. "They can be stubborn toward the dead, too, let me tell ya. I can usually only help them move on when they're in a sort of in-between state. But if they cross over to the living dead, so to speak, they're usually lost to me."

Then the woman started cutting. R.J. made a face of disgust, and then poofed out of existence, only to pop back a few feet away, sitting on a counter where the details of the cut up body were lost to her eyes. She really wasn't a fan of the whole blood and gore scene. She, of course, would be there if she needed to be, but the young ghost tried to stay away from violent scenes. They made her incredibly uneasy.

She grinned. "Ah well, maybe I'll look over someone's shoulder and get a look at a picture later." R.J. liked the blonde's humor, even if she couldn't reciprocate very well. People were still new to her. And medium was something else-- it would make her day better, if not her week. Especially since this woman seemed to have a similar goal for the spirits stuck at the asylum as she did. A common interest, didnt people bond over that? Maybe, just maybe, R.J. had just met a friend. A sane one, rather than the sick one's she usually kept company with.

An organ donor. Eyeing the boys body, even from where she was, she didn't think that would mean much. A little symbol on his I.D. card wasn't going to help anyone if all of his insides were gutted up. Shame, too. He was a larger man, but fit, and probably was very healthy. So it was somebody else's loss.

"Pass? Oh. A high risk man cut me up while I was visiting my fiance. Wasn't the most pleasant thing I have ever experienced, let me tell you. A guard found me gasping. Kind of like I found him," -she nodded her head to the cut up body on the metal slab. "He held me. Nice fellow, he turned out to be. Never did catch his name. Anyway, bad timing on my part, I guess. He wanted a way out, and accidentally stood in his way... literally. Next thing I know, I'm sitting on the very same table our friend is over there."

She flashed in and out of existence again, this time she ended up standing next to the blonde woman again, facing her. "Name's R.J., by the way. Thanks for not ignoring me. Your name is?" She cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
five nine zero
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
I'm out of practice, so my posts are very short. Sorry!

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

Hera simply shrugged her shoulders at the comment about a creep factor. “It doesn’t bother me… it’s more or less the spirit still trapped inside the body- a few times I’ve noticed that happen. It’s rather…strange.” The female shrugged her shoulders as she looked over the man once more. “It freaked me out the first time- nearly scared me to death- no pun intended.” Hera flashed another grin as she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not very common, though… but if I talk to a body and generally don’t get a response at all, normally from the spirit of the deceased, then I know they’ve passed over… it’s nice to get that every now and then- makes my job harder, though.” The female shrugged her shoulders once again, an action she did quite often, “I love a challenge, though.”

Hera was a talked once you got to know her. She seemed quiet and eerie, but she really wasn’t- she just minded her own business. But generally she talked to spirits non-stop. That was about it. People, it was on and off. Depended on her mood- but spirits? Shiiit. She talked to spirits any time the opportunity came about. They always interested her- anything they had to say was interesting enough. She didn’t mind holding a conversation with one- she enjoyed learning new things, anyways… and talking to the dead was a good way to do just that. See, she already learned something new- that the dead were stubborn either way you look at it.

The female chuckled softly at the other’s words. “That’s interesting.” She seemed unenthused, but she was being genuine. It did interest her. “So you pretty much have to get to them right after the death happens?” She asked curiously, shifting her attention to the male once more. “It’s hard to get some of the spirits to talk- there’s this one guy that was burned alive… I see him almost everyday in my apartment, but he won’t speak to me. I think he’s a demonic entity- my cat hisses at him and he causes me to have hot flashes sometimes.” It didn’t bother her, though. She had her fair share of run-ins with demons. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Some were, but the ones she saw didn’t get her too badly. A few hauntings here and there, but she knew how to take care of those, now.

“I’m sure they have a picture of this guy somewhere with his application- probably a criminal record.” That seems to be how it went at the asylum. Most of the staff members had a criminal record. Hera didn’t give a shit. As long as they paid her what she asked for they could hire whoever the hell they wanted as far as she was concerned. She cut up dead bodies for a living, and she talked to the dead on the side. Now she didn’t explain to the Xavier’s that she expected a higher salary because she could never sleep at night because of the dead trying to talk to her, no, she told them that she wanted a raise because of the fact that she had a doctorate degree and knew what the fuck she was doing. That wasn’t really the case- she just was up all night long and then had to go to work the next day after getting absolutely no sleep whatsoever.

Listening to the female’s story, Hera took another bite out of her cupcake. She was always interested in hearing what happened to spirits- it was just something that caught her attention, always did. “Damn… you weren’t even associated with the asylum other than your fianceé and you got stuck in here?” She shook her head slightly taking in the story. “That really has to blow… like big time. I can’t imagine being literally trapped inside of this place- I have to get out of here every now and then.” Sometimes the souls that lurked the asylum could be too overwhelming for Hera- especially, and mainly, when she had multiple entities trying to connect with her at once- that always made her uneasy. She wasn’t afraid of spirits, but she knew they could do damage if the wanted to.

Hera watched the spirit pop in front of her and smiled softly at her. “I’m Hera Marissa Calleis, pleasure to meet ya.” She chuckled softly at the girl’s next comment and shrugged slightly. “I couldn’t ignore you if I wanted to, Hun.” It was true. The spirits never left Hera. She could always see and hear them no matter how badly she tried to ignore them- her powers were just too strong for her own good. “Spirits, to me, are like the living for everyone else. I can see them, hear them, touch them-” and to prove her point, Hera let her hand touch RJ’s, smiling to the female as her hand didn’t go through her like most human’s did with apparitions. “I can even smell them, taste certain things if they want me to… it’s a blessing and a curse, all in all. I wouldn’t change my powers if I had the choice, though… I love being a medium.”

WORD COUNTxx
⁸⁶⁰
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{i fucking love hera}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

"Spirits get trapped inside their bodies?" Yes, she had questions about the dead, because even though she was dead herself didnt mean she was an expert on the subject. R.J. had just gotten the hang of manipulating energy that went beyond her instinctive purposes. It was difficult as hell, but she could do it now, at least. R.J. had always helped the process of leaving the body go smoother, and she knew that sometimes spirits thought they were still flesh and blood, but it had never occurred to her that sometimes the person inside could get stuck there. The prospect was actually somewhat scary, and she was glad that it hadn't happened to her. Funny, how even when dead, she had things to be thankful for.

She nodded at the woman's question. "Pretty much. Timing is imperative. If I'm too late, I'm screwed... or, I guess they're screwed. Unless, of course, they're lucky and pass on immediately and on their own. But that really doesn't happen here often." She shivered at the mention of the demonic spirit-- she'd run into a few of them herself, and the experience had been less than pleasant. And the cat-- she glanced over. That caught her attention," Yeah, most animals are more aware of us than people, cats in particular. They're more sensitive." Most people were inclined to think tat animals hated all forms of ghosts, but it wasn't so. They only reacted negatively towards the ones with a hell of a lot of bad karma surrounding with them, and it just so happened that those ones manifested themselves much more often.

And then she laughed in response to the woman's comment about her association with the asylum. She couldn't help it. Bad timing had condemned her to a place she didn't know that well, with all of hell's beasts just waiting inside. "Yes, well, welcome to my life. Or lack thereof." She grinned. Maybe it was morbid, but R.J. found it amusing to make jokes about her condition. making those jokes is what helped her come to terms with it in the first place, anyway. "I guess it isn't so bad here, though," she admitted. "I have the advantage of disappearing for a while. Well... I will, once I can get a handle on it. And I get the joy of helping people sleep, and living inside people's heads... that can be a break sometimes. So it balances out, I suppose."

R.J. smiled at the woman's name. "Hera. Very nice." She nodded in approval. Hera was the Greek goddess of marriage, and women too, R.J. knew. A very powerful name, in the ghost's opinion, but from what she knew of the woman so far, though little as it may be, R.J. felt that the Hera definitely deserved her name.

Then Hera touched her. She was so shocked, she disappeared for a moment in her smoke, only to reappear a second later in the exact same location. It had been so long since the young ghost had been touched, truly touched. The inbetween state of a soul was one thing, as it involved an emotional connection as well, and touching a gost was nothing like the sensation of physical contact, but just simple touch... it was so amazing. R.J. poked Hera's arm, her eyes wide with amazement. "Whoa. Okay, now that is cool. Sorry, though, you wont be getting any tastes from me. I've lost all my senses... except for hearing, of course. And now, apparently touch. But smell and taste are gone." She shrugged.

"But like, how do you live with seeing us all? If it were me, it'd drive me insane. Were you born with your... uh... gift?" she had hesitated on the owrd, not quite sure what to call it. R.J. couldnt help being curious. She'd only ever directly talked to crazy people since being dead. his was sooooo much different.

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
six four six
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
curious, she is xD

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

Hera nodded her head at the girl’s question. “I’ve noticed it happen several times- that’s what I call it, at least. It’s strange… the body is dead but I can hear a voice coming from it… talking to me. I don’t know, but that’s what I assume it is- I know when it happens that there are no other spirits in the room, so it has to be the one on the table.” She shrugged her shoulders. It was a weird though, most people wouldn’t believe her. She has had several bodies talk to her, though, and whenever they speak in first person referring back to the crime she has to believe that they spirit speaking to her is coming from the body that laid upon the metal slab of a table. What else could it be? Not much… unless Hera was just plain fucking insane- but that wasn’t true… for the most part.

That was strange. “They probably have a hard time passing on because of the treatment at the asylum, or something similar to that… maybe they just want to haunt the staff.” She shrugged her shoulders with a smile on her lips, “it doesn’t bother me too much- I’m pretty much used to hauntings by now.” She studied the female for a moment before continuing her speech, “How does one figure if they’re a a good or evil spirit? Does it deal with the imbalances, or balances, in life, or is it simply however the spirit chooses to act?” It was always an interesting topic to Hera. Anything that spoke of the dead caught her attention almost immediately. She did minor in parapsychology when she was in college, by the way. She didn’t get all the answers she wanted, though.

“I’ve noticed my cat only hisses sometimes, so I’ve always assumed the ancient Chinese were right about them only reacting to the negative spirits.” She smiled softly, “My dog doesn’t react, but he’s just a pup. Ares-” she motioned towards the aardvark “doesn’t respond either… nor does my rat.” She shrugged her shoulders with a chuckle. “I love animals- all my pets are bald, though… Nearly all fur makes me break out- allergies.” It was true. Hell, even her aardvark was bald. Normally they weren’t, but her pet had a genetic mutation of some sort- she was certain it was something to do with inbreeding, because most animals do inbreed. She wasn’t sure, but it was a good theory… right?

Hera chuckled at the female’s morbid little joke- she loved it. She really did. There was nothing that she loved more other than people who knew how to take a joke. Honestly, Hera wished she knew this girl before she passed on… why? Because she reminded her of herself- in a way. Hera liked to assume that after she’s dead she’ll crack jokes like the other girl does. “You need to come help me sleep.” Hera grinned slightly at her own words. It was true, she really got little to no sleep most of the time. It was horrid, it really was. She wished she could sleep, but it didn’t happen too often. Oh well, she wasn’t going to worry too much about it. If it happened, it happened. She got lucky on nights where she fell asleep without any trouble… but like said, that didn’t happen too often. When it did, she slept five hours tops.

“I was born in Greece.” Hera smiled at the name, she missed her hometown. It wasn’t the same in what was considered the United States. “Our people thrive on art and philosophy… it’s so beautiful there- so much history.” She could have gotten a job there, but she chose not to. After all, there were little to no mental facilities that she wanted to work at in Greece, so she stuck to one in America. It wasn’t bad, and people didn’t die all day everyday, so she did have time to do whatever she wanted every now and then. Hell, when there wasn’t a body she got paid to pretty much straighten up the room and clean. Other than that, she just roamed the asylum talking to lost souls. Most people assumed she was a patient by the way she walked down the hall talking to- what looked like- herself.

A chuckle escaped Hera’s lips at the girl’s reaction to being touched, and simply smiled as the action was returned. “I’ve gotten that reaction before.” She picked up another cupcake and began eating it as she listened to the girl. “When most spirits try to touch humans they only leave a tingling sensation- chills down the spine and whatnot. When one touches me, it’s like a normal touch from the living- I’ve assumed it’s because of my ability. It doesn’t bother me… until they find out and wake me up at night- that can be pretty annoying.” She grinned slightly. Spirits had always seemed to enjoy knowing that they still had their sense of touch- and they used it quite a bit after they found out. It was nice to see that it made them happy, though.

“Incredibly strong spirits are the ones that leave marks on people- bruises, scratches, and so on. Normally the demons.” Hera turned with her back facing the girl, took off her trench coat, and lifted the back of her top, exposing what appeared to be claw marks going down her back- covering it from top to bottom. If it wasn’t red from bleeding, it probably wouldn’t be too noticeable- most likely would be covered by her tattoos. “That happened four days ago when I had to go down to the basement. There’s some bad shit down there…real bad.” She put her top back down and turned her attention back to the other female. “The demons don’t like mediums- they try to scare me off a lot, it’s not going to happen, though… good tries, but failures in all.” Let’s just say Hera wasn’t too welcome at the asylum.

“I just deal with it. I’ve gotten used to it. And I’ve had my gift ever since I can remember- and I remember being about… five or so and seeing a man standing on my dad’s farm. He was just standing there… staring at me. I told my parents, but they didn’t see anything, took it for a child’s imagination, and dismissed it.” She shrugged- apparently most mediums get that response from those around them. “I assume I was born with it… Like I said, though, it really doesn’t bother me unless I’m trying to sleep. But to me, seeing them is no different than seeing people. They’re always here- everywhere. If I opened the door to the morgue right now I’m sure I’d see three of four in the hallways. It’s just like people to me, though. The only difference is that most people don’t randomly start bleeding from a neck injury or something that happened fifteen years ago.” She shrugged, “But I have difficulty telling the difference between the living and the dead sometimes… that’s how normal it is to me.”

WORD COUNTxx
¹¹⁸⁰
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{yay for a reply!}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

"No, not the treatment, though I suppose it could have a part," the ghost responded. She didn't know much about being deal, but she had picked up a few bits of information here and there at her time at the asylum. "there's something about the energy here... its like, sticky, almost. That's what gets us stuck here here. I'm not sure about other places, but when passing, there's almost like... a jelly, I guess you could describe it as. And since a person's spirit gets really confused when it starts to pass on, it's really hard to get stuck in." She shrugged," That's what I'm for, really. When people die, I act basically as a lubricant to help them pass over." That was what she had figured out only a few days in, actually. She had heard a woman dying, her screams echoing in R.J.'s head. Now, she had already found out how to sing people to sleep, as it had only been instinct, and she had found that singing to the dead had worked exactly the same way.

R.J.'s eyebrows crunched together at the woman's question about how a spirit decided they were good or bad. "Um... I don't know. I think that's decided either before we die, or maybe how we die. You know, bad energy stays that way, and good, respectively. I guess you can qualify me as one of the good guys, but I don't really have a choice in the matter, really. I work upon instinct. And I think everyone does, but I couldn't tell you for sure." In truth, the young ghost had never given the idea much thought. It was just something she had taken for granted. The good were the good, and the bad were the bad. It never even occurred to her to question it.

Rebecca nodded at the woman's explanation of the animals. She was never bothered by them, personally, so she figured her assumption was probably correct. As she had stated earlier, she believed animals to be more sensitive to her kind than people, though it was that possible just the cats that could tell they were there, she didn't really know. R.J. looked down at the aardvark and smiled. Yes, it was certainly an odd pet to keep, but it was really cute, too. "Animals are nice... I don't remember if I liked them or not." She admitted. She had lost a lot of memories since dying. Her knowledge and preferences of animals had gone away with them.

At the mention of helping Hera sleep, R.J. brightened considerably. "Sure, I'd love to. I think I can work past any ghosts, or at the very least, I can try. I'm sure you could use it." She grinned. R.J. liked the prospect of being able to help anyone always making her happy, but helping the only person that she could actually have a normal conversation with? That would be completely amazing. Even the thought of it brought a grin to her lips, practically stretching from ear to ear.

"Mmmm, Greece. that sounds nice. I've never been." She hesitated before adding," At least, i don't think I have." Again, forgetting memories. It was a bummer, really.

The ghost flashed in and out again, this time moving back to the counter she'd previously been sitting on. She listened to the mediums story, the girl's interest written all over her face. Honestly, R.J. couldn't even begin to understand how a child so young could have the coping abilities to grow up and be a full on medium, being able to function throughout society without getting herself thrown in a loony bin. Well, technically speaking, Hera did wind up in a loony bin, but not really for the purposes one would suspect. R.J. found she had a respect for Hera, being able to deal with her gift the way she did.

"Huh. Now, that's pretty cool. Cool... bloody scary, too. And amazing... and other words I can't really bring to mind at the moment. " She grinned. R.J. really liked Hera, and not just because she was medium, though that definitely didn't hurt.

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
six eight four
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
*insert random witty comment here*

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

“Huh…” The only word that escaped Hera’s lips as the other female spoke. It was quite an interesting theory, to be honest; however, this theory, so to speak, actually had factual evidence. What would that be? Well, the ghost standing in front of Hera, actually explaining the situation, was all the facts she needed. She believed the girl without a doubt- which was something hard for Hera to do. “That kinda reminds me of the movie Poltergeist…” It was one of her favorite movies, especially for the 80s, and it was pretty good, she wasn’t going to lie. She had often thought about what it was like whenever someone finally did pass over… or when they were stuck inbetween, for that matter. It always struck her attention… why wouldn’t it? The girl was a medium, for Christ’s sake… she practically lived for this shit.

“Right, right… that makes sense. People who live a negative life are that way in the after, and good the same…” She thought about the idea, taking another bite of her cupcake. “So ultimately the stronger side outweighs the other.” It sounded a bit like Buddhism, but it did make sense. Maybe that was how all things were decided- like the gods. Their deeds decided if they’d be playing on sides with, say, Zeus or Poseidon, or if they’d be with Hades or Nyx. Yes, she really was actually into that stuff. Of course her job almost contradicted her beliefs, but fuck it. She loved dealing with the dearly departed- and she felt it only made her beliefs stronger. Certain religions just didn’t make sense to her… at all. The main? Christianity. She’d dabbled in it, like she did most other religions, but it wasn’t for her… at all. There were so many questions she didn’t have answers to, and that didn’t appease her. Why would a supposed “forgiving” god throw people ill with horrid disease… it just didn’t work for her.

Believing in Greek mythology was something many, many people didn’t do anymore- even if they lived in Greece. Hera loved being the “outcast” in the world… it made her that much more unique. She believed everything had a purpose in life, if it didn’t, why would the gods waste their time making it? Yes, when she had problems, she prayed to the god who was in charge of that issue. If her pet was sick, she’d pray to several gods- the one of animals, and of illness. It took time, but in the end she felt as if it helped her… she felt better. And instead of wasting her time praying to one god continuously, and irritating that god, she was praying to several to answer individual problems. How could one god make everything? It just didn’t make sense… at all. Then again, most people didn’t believe in her stories. Hundreds upon hundreds of gods and creatures that control the world? Eh… not to mention demi-gods, and so on… it just felt right to her… isn’t that what religion is about, anyways?

“I love all creatures.” The female smiled down at her aardvark, watching him toss about in his dreams. “Even the smallest of creatures have meaning in life… no matter what they are.” She shifted her attention back to the entity. She did strongly believe in everything she said. Hell, she didn’t even get bothered by bugs… they had purpose, did they not? Roaches, grasshoppers, beetles… everything was put on earth for a reason. The gods wouldn’t waste their time on a pointless creature, after all. “But not everything in life is ‘good.’ Every being has animalistic instincts… some just control them better than others.” And then you have some, like the people in the asylum, who were “blessed” with gifts from the god, Maniae- the god of madness and insanity. She believed that someone struck with certain illnesses didn’t pray enough to the god of that illness. For example, Hera was vain. She believed she had often failed to pray to Narcissus- the god of vanity.

“I would greatly appreciate it.” Hera smiled softly to the female, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have often prayed to Hypnos, but I assume he is busy somewhere else.” A grin played on Hera’s lips as she shrugged her shoulders. Most people didn’t take her seriously when she spoke of the gods, and she didn’t expect anyone to, in all honesty. “I think that the spirits are too overwhelming for Hypnos… after all, he’s only a personification.” The female tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she let her eyes shift to the dead body on the table. “I bet a lot more people would pass over if they had their penance of coins for Charon- the ferryman.” She was being serious, too. See, this is why people thought she was crazy. Once she got comfortable, she began to speak of the gods… oh well.

Hera chuckled softly at the female’s reaction to her story, nodding her head in agreement. “At first it scared the shit out of me- once I actually came to grips with what I was… now… it’s just everyday life. I expect it and nothing less. Like everything else, it just takes some time getting used to, and I have devoted a lot of my time to my ability and to the spirits that come with it.” She picked off a gummy brain from a cupcake and popped it in her mouth, licking the icing from off of her fingers. “Dealing with the dead is just as normal for me as it is for a person to breath… it just happens. I’ve had quite a few run-ins with some demons, none-the-less. They don’t appreciate my powers because oftentimes I dismiss their attempts to “frighten” me- I’ve seen it all before…”

WORD COUNTxx
⁹⁶⁷
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{yay for a reply!}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

The ghost didn't respond to Hera's comment about the movie. She didn't remember seeing it, but then again, she didnt remember watching any movie. Apparently the information wasn't important enough to carry over from life to death. Or something like that. R.J. had never really found a rhyme or reason to the memories she still had and the one's she didn't to her, they were just random.

R.J.was surprised at the amount of pleasure she received just by talking with Hera. In all honesty, she knew she had been lonely, but the ghost hadn't realized how alone she had really been. And so it was relieving to finally be able to talk to someone. But it was saddening too.

Sometimes ghosts had the opportunity to pass over onto whatever world was next. Whether it be finally finishing unfinished business or something else entirely, R.J. didn't know. What she did know, however, was that she herself would never pass on to that place. Her job was here, and it always would be. It wasn't like some sentence she was forced to carry out, but it was the way it was. She didn't mind all that much, but her eternity meant watching countless people pass, people she both liked and didn't like. R.J. knew that one day, Hera, the beautiful blond goddess in front of her, would also die. And then R.J. would be alone again. That was simply how it was. And the thought brought a heaviness to R.J.'s heart that she hadn't felt since her death.

But she couldn't wallow for long, because when Hera began speaking again, R.J. found herself latching on to every word. "Hmm...." she thought about what Hera had said for a moment, about every life having a purpose and meaning, and how not everything was inherently good. And R.J. found that she believed the woman, and knew that when she had been alive, her views had been very similar, even though she was sure their religions didn't parallel. "What about ghosts? Do we have meaning too? Even if we are still dead?" She asked curiously. R.J. had never given much thought in her life about the dead. Naturally, the topic intrigued her now. Though really topic intrigued her now. After all, she had all of eternity to think about it.

Though she knew a little about Greek mythology, R.J. found herself quickly losing understand of what Hera was saying. Hypno's was easy to recognize for her, and even if he wasn't, the name was an obvious inclination of what he was the god of. However, Charon she knew nothing of. She thought for a moment, trying to reach into her limited knowledge, and then gave up. "I'm not sure who that is, the ferryman. I don't remember him." She gave a little apologetic shrug, "I don't know much about the gods. I was Catholic when I was alive... Wait, no, I was raised Catholic." She corrected herself, putting little bits of her life together in her head. "I think... I don't know what I was after that. I can't remember." She made a pouting face for a moment, and then gave another shrug. The ghost tried her best not to dwell on her life. "But yes. Just call my name anytime and I'll sing you to sleep, and make sure you can stay that way for at least a little while." She offered helpfully.

"Huh. Well, then you're pretty tough. I'm even afraid of them, and I'm just like them. But they make me feel really horrible a lot when I'm around them. And sometimes they hurt me." She shivered. She remembered having all of her atoms torn apart by one of the demon's she had run into. It had been the most excruciating thing she had ever experienced, dead or alive. " I'm impressed you can deal with it all so easily. Especially with them."

R.J. whisped away in her smoke, disappearing from Hera's side to reappearing sitting cross-legged on the floor about two feet in front of the woman. She looked up and smiled. "Why'd you pick a job working with dead people if you can see them all the time anyways? And even more than that, crazy dead people!" Sh laughed. "Seems to me like you're just asking for trouble."

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
seven one three
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
sorry it took me forever!!!

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

Hera thought for a brief moment about the ghost’s question before nodding her head. “I believe so.” She smiled towards the female and licked some of the icing off her finger, still in thought. “There has to be a purpose if one is stuck in this world. Perhaps your life ended so soon because your journey has just begun, my dear.” The female pulled herself up on the countertop, taking a swig of her energy drink as she let her eyes skim over the deceased guard. “Your life on earth was cut short because this place wasn’t for you- the gods saw something more in you- something you could use in the after.” She nodded her head in agreement with herself, her eyes shifting back to the apparition that stood before her. “Gods, your “God,” you get my point.” The female smiled, letting the other know of her intentions- it’s not like she was trying to force her beliefs, but by nature, she was used to saying “gods” before anything in a singular form- she was a polytheist, after all.

“If you, or any ghost for that matter, had no purpose serving in the afterlife, then why would you be here?” She questioned, pulling her boots off and letting them clank against the floor. “It makes no sense. It would be pointless for you to be here with no apparent reason- it just depends on which god you serve and which way he or his enemy plans to use you. For example, if someone was a “Christian” and went around killing people, they’d probably be taken to the afterlife in the name of Lucifer, right? So your god must have seen something in you that he needed- something good… to help others in the after. ” She smiled at her own reasoning, leaning her head against the cabinet behind her as her eyes lifted towards the light in the room. “Just like me… if Zeus sees something in me, I’m sure I’ll be staying beside you in the afterlife- connecting with mediums, hopefully, and helping them through their struggles.” Some would hate the idea of spending an eternity on earth, but Hera would enjoy helping those around her- especially ones that had the same issues she has…

Hera nodded her head at the females questioning, a chuckle escaping her lips. “To each his own.” She smiled softly. “Charon is the ferryman in Greek mythology, as they call it. He pretty much chills out in hell and won’t let any people- dead or alive- cross through to the gates unless they have their penance to pay him- normally two coins or so. If they have it, he takes them to the gates, if not, they’re pretty much fucked.” A chuckled, once again, escaped Hera’s lips. She was like an encyclopedia with Greek mythology. She knew so many stories- and like said, she believed a high majority of them. People always found it… interesting that she was a mortician, a medium, and on top of it believed in Greek mythology. After all, that doesn’t speak of any afterlife- but she saw that everything could have error. The legends of Greek mythology were passed down from generation to generation, so of course it was possible to have some shit a little out of whack. Some thinks seemed to fairy-tale like to her, others made complete sense. That’s just how she worked. Hell, she knew a lot of people like that. Some Christians didn’t believe in every story in the Bible- like a man being swallowed by a whale and living- come on, really? It’s all fairytale mumbo jumbo. Even if Hera was a Christian she wouldn’t believe that story.

“That sounds lovely- I really need some sleep.” The girl smiled as she watched the female. It was probably obvious that she was in need of sleep- the girl had bags under her eyes a majority of the time. Sometimes she put on makeup to cover that shit, other times she really didn’t care- like now. It was early in the morning, anyways, why would she care? She wasn’t interacting with anyone- well, anyone that was alive, that is. Plus she was very confident in herself- looks and all. Hera knew she was an attractive female- sexy, if you will. She wasn’t going to have low self-esteem, hell, she was pretty vain at that… but there’s nothing wrong with that, right? She knew she was hot, so why hide it? Shouldn’t everyone flaunt what they’ve got if they’ve got it? Maybe that was just her reasoning- then again, she was diagnosed with “narcissistic personality disorder-” blah. She didn’t see where thinking she was hot and talking about it was a disorder, but most doctors are quacks, anyways. “Anyways,” she continued, pushing aside her thoughts, “if there are too many demonic spirits or other spirits lurking around my place to get me to sleep, don’t worry about it- an attempt is better than nothing at all.”

“Ya’ know… that’s a damn good question.” Hera chuckled softly, thinking about the question. No one had really ever put it like that before. The blonde shrugged her shoulders as she glanced over to the dead body once more before letting her eyes move to the spirit. “I guess because I’ve always had a fascination with death and the human body.” And this is why people always think she’s a secretive serial killer or some shit. “Ever since I was little death has fascinated me. I would look them up online- yes, I know that’s probably not normal- no matter how gruesome the death was. It never gave me nightmares, and the idea of death wasn’t a fear to me like it was for most people… it was… intriguing. I wanted to work with dead bodies- and I’m glad I did.” The female thought what she was going to speak of next before opening her trap, “And working with the dead bodies has brought me closer to spirits- and demons- and allowed me to experience all the much more with each group. I’ve been haunted numerous times, but I know how to banish a lot of demons from the premises. I’ve helped quite a few spirits pass over, and have rekindled the love and hope that families have shared…” She shrugged her shoulders, “A lot of people say I’m very callous and emotionless with the families of those that have passed on, but I’ve never had much emotion to begin with- plus I never have really not been acquainted with spirits from people I love that have passed on- they’re always here to me… And it’s nice getting to let some families know that their loved ones are still present, I guess. I do have a heart- somewhere deep, deep down.” A snicker escaped Hera’s lips as she swung her legs back and forth slightly.

WORD COUNTxx
¹¹⁴²
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{i am so sorry that took so long T_T!}

[REBECCA JANE CORRELLA]

~~i hope you never look back~~
~but you never forget~

[/i][/b]

~all the ones who you love~
~~and the place you left~~[/center]

She grinned at the thought that she had purpose, especially since what Hera had said was completely logical. After she had died, R.J. had started having a hard time having faith in anything other than logic, and it was rare when faith itself and logic intertwined. So the way Hera explained it, it was odd how much it made sense. And it could be applied really without the thought of the Gods, or a singular God or however one was going to see it. Why would something come into existence without a purpose? The idea of complete randomness among the world just didn't seem right. So the mediums explanation seemed logical, and could be applied with faith... That seemed more right to R.J. The explanation just fit better.

R.J. considered what her purpose was, exactly, and why she could have been cut short of her life. She supposed that she hadn't been utilizing it all that well, as she had spent most of it following around her first fiance like a puppy, up until the point where she met her second fiance. Other than that, R.J. realized that her life had been pretty insignificant. She had basically no meaning until she had met that high risk patient who had ended her life, and the guard who had rocked her into death. That sound, his singing, had been the last thing she remembered in her life, and now that's the exact action she performed to all the dying, she sang them and rocked them. That was her purpose, she supposed. And it really wasn't that bad. At least she helped people, and the joy she received from it was worth losing her life for.

"How common are mediums?" The ghost asked curiously. "I mean, I'm sure there are tons, but obviously they aren't widely accepted for their gifts, so it must be rather hard to open up about seeing us." She imagined how difficult that would be-- living with an extra sight that no one around you has, or, at the very least, no one would admit to having such a gift. "Have you met any other like yourself?" Now that she was on a role of asking questions, R.J. was bound to just her curiosity get the better of her, and she was likely to just blurt out questions without taking into account general politeness. But from what she had gathered of Hera, she doubted the medium would mind.

R.J. furrowed her brows in confusion. "Coins? Like, money?" It may have been a stupid question, but she was genuinely curious. The idea of paying money to get across made sense to her, sure, but how would one get that money to pay the ferryman? She pondered for a moment what the answer could be, and then just waited for Hera's answer.

She smiled at the woman's explanation, and then vanished in her puff of smoke and came up right next to Hera on the space left over on the counter. " That's sweet," she said," what you do for them. It's good for the living to know that the dead are still here. And it's great when people like you, who can actually see us, are willing to tell them." She paused for a moment, and then said a bit softer, " Sometimes I wonder if they forget about us when we go. I know they mourn, but they move on with their lives and leave us behind. I don't blame them-- how could they know we're here? And it wouldn't be right to expect them to mourn forever, but still..." She thought of her family, the people and faces in her head she could barely remember. And even though she couldn't find the details of her life, of them in her life, the dead girl still missed her family. And she hoped that they missed her as well.

~i hope that you always forgive~
~~and you never regret~~

~~word count~~
six four five
~~tags~~
hera
~~outfit~~
ssseeexxxxaaaayyyy
~~lyrics~~
my wish-- rascal flats
~~notes~~
blah... iots crap xD sorry

[HERA MARISSA CALLEIS]

Ah yes. The commonality of mediums. It was something that Hera wondered about herself, honestly. “I honestly think that everyone has a little bit of medium in them.” The girl shrugged her shoulders before kicking her feet back and forth. “Some people just can access it and other people can’t… in my opinion. I think it has to do a lot with one’s spirituality and how they view the paranormal and stuff like that. Like some people want to tap into the spirit world; other people just don’t believe in it… I don’t know.” The female gave a soft sigh before glancing at the dead body again. “I think there are a lot more mediums than accredited. Some are just scared of their power and want to try to escape it- they don’t want to be publicized and known nation to nation.” Like her, for instance. She was a medium, an open one at that, but the last thing she wanted was for everyone to know who she was and everyone to hold her up because of her powers. She wanted to be herself- free and away from the media, unlike those idiots on the television that do their job for the wrong reasons.

Maybe that was wrong for her to say. A lot of people believed that individuals should be able to do whatever they wanted to do and all of that shit, but Hera really… she was iffy on it. Yes, she was all for free will and shit, but she didn’t like the idea of selfish people running around and abusing their powers for the almighty dollar. That was fucked up. She helped people for free; at least she tries to. She never wants to use someone and try to gain some sort of financial benefit in the name of someone else. That wasn’t how she worked and that just wasn’t who she was. She didn’t like the idea of doing something for people, but charging them a fee- a very expensive one at that. Some of the “mediums” out there were fake as hell, anyways. They made it merely a guessing game… they guessed about who died and dates and just got lucky most of the time.

“I have met a few mediums.” Hera let her mind flash back to those people, remembering every intricate detail of their face and their so called spiritual encounters. “A few were very credible… the others, not so much. Most people that claim to be mediums either abuse their privileges or are fake, in my opinion.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a soft sigh. “I don’t think any person with good intentions would charge people to speak to their loved ones. Maybe if they donated money to a fund helping the gifted, but I know most don’t. They are praised on TV and made to be some kind of god… but they’re not. All they are are selfish assholes living in mansions and not having to really work a day in their life. You don’t see me running around and charging money to let people connect with their departed ones… I guess that’s what makes me different.” She wasn’t as near as heartless as everyone made her out to be.

Hera smiled at the next question. She enjoyed talking about Greek tales a lot more than she should. “Something like that.” The female cleared her throat before she continued, “They’re called obolos. It’s not really to him money, but it was once used as a form of payment. An obol is practically the same thing as a drachma- old Greek currency- but worth more than just one. They have images on them- typically something to do with the ancient Greek culture.” The girl took a deep breath. “When a loved one passes away, according to Greek legends, you’re supposed to put a obol over or in their mouth.” And that was a story she stuck to. It actually annoyed her because she had gotten in trouble at the asylum for putting obolos over the deceased’s mouths. It was “not her choice to make” or some bullshit. She just scoffed it off and kept going, honestly.

Hera simply shook her head at the girl’s question. “No, I don’t believe anyone fully forgets. Some have the ability to move on, but there’s always going to be that one day that memories come flooding back. It is practically impossible to forget a deceased loved one. I have had many people talk to me after years upon years of their loved one dying. I’ve had women come to me crying ten years after their husband died. It doesn’t just vanish- the love or the memories- they will always remain.” That is one thing the girl firmly believed. She doubted that anyone could just forget about someone they really cared about… she knew she wouldn’t be able to, at least. Then again, all she really had was her mom and dad.

WORD COUNTxx
⁸²⁶
OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^open
PETxx
^{ares the aardvark.}
LYRICSxx
^{in death’s embrace by dimmu borgir}
NOTESxx
^{taking forever, once again.}