time for a check up (open post)

[warmheartedly]

KNOW CLARA?

You may then know, more or less, the incident of her granddaughter getting kidnapped by the vampires. It distressed her but she's fine. Honest to goodness she's fine.

It's normal for her to worry for people she cares for. It's pretty normal for her to think of all the worst case scenarios some of them could find themselves in due to their personalities/their histories/their everything.

It's very normal for her to suddenly check on them one day out of the blue, just appearing next to them without a warning or a heads up.

"Are you okay?"

She's totally calmed down about the incident last month. Really.

DON'T KNOW CLARA?

What do you mean by that?

Now you do as she suddenly phases through the wall and looks directly at you during her search for everyone she knows.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. It doesn't matter if there are people there or you're supposed to be by yourself. Suddenly you have a woman staring at you in confusion for a second before it registers in her head that no. You're not someone she knows through passing.

"Um. Oops."

[ OOC: Or make your own scenario in your comment! Prose and brackets welcomed! ]

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[warmheartedly]

"Here?" Ah! He must mean the coffee shop. "I do. It's where I used to live, actually. Once it was an apartment complex but then it was bought off and turned into this."

Looking around, she spots something and (politely) points to the direction of the front door. Her tone takes a wistful quality to it, no doubt remembering the times when she was still alive and well. "There are notches over there on the frame of the door if you want proof. Faint but you can see it. That's where the other mothers and I used to measure our children's heights."

[knightscode]

It makes sense, much more sense why she would be here now, and his face creases in sympathy. Turning to where she points he lets his eyes drift over the door frame, thinking on how much change would have seen. How much it must have hurt to have a home ripped apart and turned into something else. To have the world change around her, and yet be forced to stay an invisible constant.

"That must be difficult," he says, then frowns and turns back to her. "Forgive me, it is perhaps a useless sort of thing to say -- it is only that... I suppose I wish I could do something, it is in the nature of people to wish that, yet your home cannot be given back to you. Your life cannot be given back. It is a bitter sort of feeling, to know you are useless in the face of another's grief."

[warmheartedly]

Her smile is a bit sadder while retaining some of her known cheer. There are some remnants of her life from before all of this. Faint but they're still there and it's enough for her.

"I've been like this for over fifteen years. I've had time to mourn over some things and move on." The keyword, however, is 'some' since having all the time in the world doesn't mean it'll be used wisely. "I guess the hardest part of being a ghost is seeing everything change while you don't. It's such a shock sometimes to see my granddaughter be so tall. First and last time I ever held her, she was simply a baby.

"You're very sweet, though. Thank you. It's nice to meet someone who understands in a way. Sometimes it gets a little lonely even when I'm with friends. Especially given recent events."