R.I.P. - Xavier Thorpe | WEDNESDAY

002; a day of many firsts

The girl had grown restless. How far away was this hell hole she would be spending the academic year in. She was practically twiddling her thumbs until she spied a vertical, hanging gothic road sign on the opposite side of where the vehicle was, the words she read were, "Nevermore... next left..." Her vocals were slight and echoing with a silent overture. Rowena's forward position reverted back to slump down in her seat.

Alistair frowned at his daughter's expressions, "You are lucky to be here, Rowena." Today was a day of many firsts.

First time he had travelled with her in a decade and the first time she had heard him speak of anything positively. Yes, it might seem little to anybody else, but Alistair had always been pessimistic with reality. Because someone's initial reaction to a real situation is normally that of intrusive thoughts- of negativity. He was a textbook case of that. Some found it endearing (though, Rowena didn't understand how they could).

The girl did not respond to the patriarch of the household. Part was out of impudence, the other was distraction. Mesmerised by the fanciful iron lettering overhead. She had to admit, she was attracted to the bleak atmosphere that this gate exuded. Rowena refused to concede to her father and be in agreeance with his previous statement, and she also refused to acknowledge that she may actually like it at this boarding school for misfits of the paranormal kind.

That urge to conceal her inner excitement became worn upon the site of this 18th century castle, which was beyond astonishing to Rowena. The storm-ridden atmosphere caused the dreary outset of this historical site to become that oh-so-more illuminated in its presence. It was harrowing and mysterious- which intrigued the girl even more than when she saw its gates.

'It's like I never left...' she heard a known voice in her thoughts. It caught her off guard but as she knew before...

Today was a day of many firsts.

The car trickled into the courtyard- which consisted of one layer of cobblestones and the upper layer filtered with scattered autumnal leaves which dared to leave their trees. All of a sudden, Rowena was once again knocked out of her mindscape when the car halted near to a pair of looming doors- which she assumed was the entrance to her home for the rest of her education.

Her father ushered her out of the car, into the cold plight of autumn. Don't get her wrong, Rowena liked her twisted tales about torture as much as the next person does. But she hated the cold. "No one told me it was going to be cold," she scowled at her patriarch, as he handed her the suitcase.

"You had best get used to it. If you are expelled from here- you're to be home-schooled. Under my watchful eye." The sheer thought of being close to her father for another ten minutes made her skin crawl. Let alone for another two years.

They began watching towards the oaken doors, "I am going to take my chances with the freezing cold," however she knew that her father was colder than any temperature could be.

"Now be on your best behaviour. Don't be an embarrassment to our family." She could assure him that very moment- she always found a way to make an embarrassment of herself, it was always out of her own control. And she didn't know why.

The free wed doors automatically shot open, creaking on their ancient hinges at they did. The inside was cosier, yet the same amount of history was contained within Nevermore's walls. Alistair could see in her eyes, that she was going to fall in love with this place. As he had and as Irene had. A few decades beforehand.

In the centre of the foyer, a towering and beguiling woman stood firmly in her place. A nostalgic smile planted on her cherry lips, with a gleam in her eyes. "You haven't changed a bit Alistair..." The British woman's hands remained in front of her.