A Mort Lunaire is an immortal being which straddles the line between corporeal and incorporeal, existing as neither being nor entity. They are shapeshifters, but are easily identifiable by their monochrome palette and appearance of being made of dark smoke. They cannot die, but sustain their physical strength by feeding off of the negative auras of living things. Any living thing that touches a Mort Lunaire will fall dead immediately.
-------------- June, 1866 --------------
"Mother, will you play with me?" Cecil asked, bouncing excitedly. "I'm busy, Cecil," She replied, without looking up from her spinning wheel. "Go entertain yourself in the forest or something. I need to keep working, so leave me alone until I'm done." Cecil shuffled their feet, disappointed. "When will you be done?" "I'm not sure. Not for a while. Now go play outside," She replied dismissively. Cecil nodded and left, leaving through the front door, and off to the nearby meadow. They sat cross legged on the grass at the bottom of a hill, weaving a crown of daisies. They weren't deft enough to weave the flowers very well, but it was passable. After about ten minutes, they'd finished their crown, and looked up, only to see something puzzling at the top of the hill.
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A dark grey, translucent figure stood there. Like a shadow, but in broad daylight. Cecil thought maybe it was a trick of the light; but it didn't go away, so they decided to go investigate. They climbed to the top of the hill and stood across from the shadowy figure.
A girl, appearing to be around twelve or thirteen years old (only slightly older than Cecil), with a plain dark ponytail over her shoulder and a modest grey dress with a lace collar. What made her strange, though, was that there was no colour in her, only monochromatic shades such as grey and black. And she was translucent, the sunlight swirling through her like thick smoke.
She smiled at them, and they looked at her in wonder and curiosity, but also apprehension.
When she spoke, it was in a smooth, inviting voice. "Hello. My name's Ada. What's yours?"
Cecil stared at her, and forgot for a second what the question was. "Oh! Uh, I'm Cecil."
"What a lovely name," Ada replied sweetly.
"Are... are you a ghost or somethin'?"
"...Sure. Sure, let's say I am."
"Ah! I've always wanted to meet a ghost! Do you want to be my friend?"
Ada was a little surprised by their enthusiasm and chipper attitude, but she was satisfied with how things were working out. "I'd love to."
Cecil laughed happily and bounced joyfully. "Yay! My first friend!!" They reached out to hug Ada, but she jumped away surprisingly fast, as if they were contagious.
"O-oh! P-please don't touch me..." She stuttered, looking slightly flustered as she tried to regain her composure.
Cecil looked confused and disappointed, but said "Oh, it's... it's okay! I won't touch if you don't want me to." Their face suddenly lit up like a match. "Wait right here!" They said as they ran back down the hill. They ran back up a minute later with a bundle of daisies in their arms. They carefully placed the flower crown on Ada's head. "Tada! D'you like it?" They asked, stepping back to admire their work.
"Thank you. It's lovely," She replied, as a wilted petal fell in front of her face.
The whole thing had wilted and died almost instantly.
