September 21st, 1895- Vigil for the vanished

It had been just over two weeks since the mists had come. Those evil magical mists who whisked away so many people's loved ones including her own. Margaret had been at work at the time, serving tea and cakes in the hospital tea room, a job she was quite enjoying. If only she hadn't been there? She would have been taken by the mists too. That was a relief, or was it? Right now, holding this tiny candle to her cousin Yseult, she couldn't decide whether she was lucky to have survived or unlucky to have missed her opportunity to be rid of this awful magical world for good.

She moved along behind a group of others. She had a mourning dress, it was someone else's dress, taken from their washing line one afternoon. It was clearly made for an elderly widow, it was a very plain and simple embroidered black gown that even after she had taken to it with scissors and a needle, still hung much lower than any of her childish dresses. Around the middle was a light grey ribbon, a touch Maggie had added herself to turn it into her own. She might say she felt pretty, if she felt anything at all right now.

Charley had agreed to come here with her, although she wasn't sure why considering Maggie had been a little distant these past two weeks, preferring to spend time alone when not working. She was just hiding in the little cupboard at the hospital that had become her temporary bedroom, one that one of the kindly cleaning staff let her share with the mops and buckets.

It was her turn next to speak, she dreaded it but had resolved that someone needed to speak for Yseult or noone would, just one more lost working class girl. It didn't stop her from being nervous. ”I don't think I can do this, Charl.” she said with a quivering voice as she reached the bottom of the steps to the podium. Charley had confidence for days, perhaps she might find some way to lend her some.

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Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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An urchin had to be out of place at this sort of gathering. She felt it in her gut, and it dragged a step behind her when she approached. Clawing back toward darkness and freedom, Charley figured, where she really wanted to be right now. Couldn't, but wanted to. If not for the younger girl beside her, the dearest of friends she had in this town, Charley wouldn't have been anywhere near the dreary gathering of folk, acting all solemn-like in black, with their heads bowed, to the degree that made her wonder if they could ever lift them again.

It didn't make all that much sense to her, either, being sad about people just vanished.

Not like they were dead, with bodies to bury. Or trapped at the bottom of some pit. She'd felt properly sad for them, thinking how awful it would be to be dead. Not even a ghost, just dead. Gone from here, off to wherever, never to eat or run against the wind or smell a fresh cutting of flowers again. Charley would have missed all of that, and a few other things, so she could feel sad enough for those properly dead folk. Except that the sort being mourned weren't dead, just disappeared. Not there anymore, but they could still be somewhere, or come back someday.

Charley didn't say that, not to Maggie anyway. The little girl could hardly keep it together today. She looked about to topple right over, and that would have dirtied her new dress. Not that anyone would see the stains on the black fabric, black was a great fabric color when there wasn't anything to be sad about, but Charley'd hold her tongue on that part, too. That was only easy to do here, where she stuck out more than usual in her white shirt and brown trousers. No one here was looking to hear from an urchin, of all people.

Just from Maggie.

Maggie, who surprised her friend by wanting to come around here in the first place. With the way she'd spent all sullen and lonesome for the last few weeks, Charley figured the girl would be the same for a vigil. Seeing Maggie eager, not truly excited but close enough for the time being, to speak at it convinced her to come along as well. There wasn't all that much space for an urchin of Hogsmeade, or the ward child of London, at a vigil for Irvingly. Just enough from Maggie herself, who'd stopped at the steps just long enough to see her face fall in the flickering candlelight.

"Ya don't gotta," Charley put back at her friend, letting the little huff out of her mouth that rose up with the sound of her almost-full name. Her glance off to the side was straight instinct, checking those bowed heads for any side looks or grins. But no, that didn't matter, just the timid girl in front of her, who looked no more ready to speak than to pick up a tray and start serving tea to the crowd. "'Cept I reckon you'd wake to a foot and mouth disease all 'bout yerself."

In the dim candlelight, the urchin couldn't be sure her face was showing the right things to Maggie. There were too many candles about to dance her meaning of it, either. Charley gave her head a little shake, holding back a tongue that wanted to encourage her first opinion a bit more. Or guiding it, anyway, sometimes there wasn't much she could do but talk. "Sure have said summat, a time or two, that I'd rather be takin' back, afore it'd meet someone's ear even. An' this might well be one of those other times, where ya don't wanna go all quiet and miss yer chance. Better that ya regret what ya said, than not havin' said yer bit at all, right?"

That's what Charley would have done if she felt like being herself at all tonight. Maybe that sort of doing was meant for Maggie tonight, if only her friend could see it.

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie nodded to her friend, she didn't entirely understand the words, or the order that her fast mouthed friend put them in, but she understood the intent. She had to choose between fear of speaking, and regret of holding her tongue. When it boiled down it was a much easier choice than she would have imagined, Maggie was no coward, sure, some things scared her, like magic, but she mostly did things and thought about them later. It was probably the reason she had survived to be in Charley's good graces. If Maggie had spoken up every time she got that "probably shouldnt" thought in her mind, Charley would likely have tired of her much sooner.

"Thank's Charley, I needed to hear that. Wish me luck." she grinned though her held back tears and took the steps upto the lectern. The man before her had been well spoken and loud, if a little dull. Maggie felt like a tiny flower as she began to speak. It took her a few sentences to find the right voice to put her emotions to works and her hands trembled around her pieces of hospital note paper. But she did it.

For Maggie it might have been an hour she was up there but in reality it was less than three minutes before she stepped back down and plunged her face into Charley's shoulder, sobbing.

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Charley Goode

  

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