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╰┈➤ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖉
TOPAZ EYES STARED DOWN AT THE SKETCHBOOK, CONFUSION SWIRLING IN THEM. She had drawn a ring with some kind of gem on them, resting in a field of daisies. She's been drawing daisies lately and she couldn't figure out why, she didn't like daisies. They were her mother's favorite flowers so she always made sure to stay clear of them. Yet, flipping through the last few drawings, she's included them in each one.
"Ziggy?" Lockwood's voice pulled the brunette out of her thoughts, her head snapping up as she looked over at the doorway where Lockwood stood in the entryway, staring at her in confusion. "What are you doing?"
She chuckled, moving to sit up. "I was drawing," she stated, stretching her arms out. She had sprawled out on the floor as she drew, waking with a nightmare that she couldn't remember and needing the peace of drawing. So, she made her way to the living room, realizing it was one of the rooms that remained untouched as George seemed to always be in the kitchen, either cooking or experimenting on the skull, Lockwood was in the study, and Lucy would be found in their room or drifting from room to room.
"So, sprawling out on the floor is how you draw?" he asked, the corners of his mouth pulling up.
She shrugged, crossing her legs. "Sometimes."
"Huh," he said, staring at her.
She looked at him, raising a brow. "Did you need something? Or were you just curious?"
"Oh!" Lockwood said, as if remembering why he was in the living room at all. "We have a case."
Ziggy perked up, grinning. "Great! When?"
"Tonight, we leave in an hour," Lockwood said.
She nodded. "Alright, I'll go get ready," she stated, getting up off the floor. She collected her sketchbook and pencils before she walked past him.
⁂
The air was absolutely freezing, making Ziggy shiver while wishing she had dressed warmer. She was wearing a simple red sweater with black overalls and tights underneath with her old red Converse that looked like they were on the verge of falling apart any day now. There was still half an hour before the sun set and curfew rose but they were waiting on Mrs. Hope to answer the door. Her hair was messily braided thanks to Lucy who wasn't even sure if she could braid Ziggy's hair anymore, but she had always put her hair in braids before a case.
Ziggy sighed as Lockwood rang the doorbell again, her eyes staring at her Converse which were much more entertaining than old rickety door with a stained glass window. Mrs. Hope was moving about inside but she wasn't answering the door, leaving the three baffled.
"Are you from the agency?" An old, shrill woman's voice came from the side of them, startling Ziggy who shot her head up as she turned to her left.
Standing mere feet away from the house was a frail woman with grey hair who wore a thick black jacket with a bag on her shoulders.
