open RP, corridors: Camilla as a child.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

(( Camilla has eaten some magical chocolate and is now seven years old. ))

It's a make-believe place, isn't it? She's in a castle. She must be dreaming. It's a beautiful dream, Camilla thinks.

She seems to know where things are, here, in the way of dreams, even though she doesn't remember any of it really. That way's the Great Hall, not knowing what the Great Hall actually is, only somehow knowing its name and if she follows that particular turn in the corridors that's where she'll end up. That's the way out to the courtyard, though she's not sure what's in the courtyard.

Inquisitive, she wanders, that first exuberant skipping long since slowed to a sedate walk.

Comments

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

Silas, still wandering, caught sight of a child meandering down the corridor. He hadn't yet seen any small children here--a few who might be teenagers, but no true children. He might not have paid this little girl much heed, had she not wandered beneath a window, which lit her hair up with a pale golden aura.

That stopped him dead. Camilla's hair did that--was this child another angel? Could angels have children? Perhaps this girl was her daughter.

He knelt, wincing at the bite of the cilice (no, he hadn't given that up yet) and pushed his hood back, hoping his appearance wouldn't send the child running the other way.

"Hello," he said. "And who do you belong to?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla looked up.

She might have been afraid, except that this man was familiar (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1253843.html?thread=63969491#t63969491). How? She wasn't entirely sure, except she knew for some reason he was supposed to protect her. So she wasn't frightened.

"I don't belong to anyone," she said quite seriously. It was true. Her parents were dead. "You could say I belong to my Nana and my brother, if you wanted to. But really I just belong to me." Thoughtfully she paused. "Who do you belong to?"

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

Perhaps not Camilla's daughter, then...a child angel? She spoke of a grandmother and a brother, though...hmm. Her clothes certainly looked much too big for her--the hem of her robe was unhemmed and uneven. Even more puzzling.

"I don't belong to anyone, either." How very true that is, he thought. "What is your name, little one?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla tilts her head. What a silly thing to ask her. He should already know her name; she knows his. "I'm Camilla," she tells him. "And you're Silas."

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

Silas stared, his red eyes round as coins. Camilla? There was a possibility that Camilla could have a child, also named Camilla, but it would not explain how she knew his name. Then again, if she was an angel, would she not know his name? But...she was a child.

For a long, long time he could say nothing. His brain simply couldn't wrap around what she'd told him, so he did not try, not yet. "Camilla," he said at last, peering at her intently. "Camilla. Where have you come from, little angel?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"I was in my room," Camilla answers simply. "Or do you mean before that? The Great Hall. I think."

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

...Not quite what he had meant. Was this real? Once upon a time he would have said no, but this was, after all, a magic school. His head was starting to hurt.

"I think perhaps you should come with me, little Camilla, until we can figure out what precisely is going on," he said at last. Magic school or not, it was probably best if she didn't wander about by herself. Silas had no idea if this child was connected with Camilla, or if for some reason she was Camilla--could angels do that? Could they change their age at will?

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla looks at him sideways. He's Silas and he'll protect her. Those are the things she's certain of in the same way she knows where the Great Hall is. Beyond that, she's not sure what to expect. She's a wayward little thing (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose) and she might otherwise be inclined to wander off. But there's that certainty she's safe with him, and a dim unpleasant suspicion she's less safe without him (where does that come from? just the way things are in dreams, the things you know without knowing why). Anyway she hasn't found anything interesting on her own yet.

"I'll stay with you," she decides. "This isn't a very exciting castle. I had a book but it didn't make any sense. Do you know how to play any games?"

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

Silas smiled at her, inwardly relieved. He didn't know what he would have done if she hadn't decided to go with him--not only was he severly touch-phobic, he had no idea how to pick up a child, and he had a certain hazy idea that you weren't supposed to touch angels anyway. This Camilla might or might not be an angel, but he thought it best to err on the side of caution.

"I do not, little Camilla," he said, wholly unaware of just what he was getting himself into. "You will have to teach me."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla stands on tiptoes to peer over the windowsill. She's not a short child, as children her age go, but it's quite a high sill. "It's too gloomy out to play croquet," she says, a trifle pouty. Little does Silas know the bullet he's thereby dodged. "The ground will be all mucky." She turns back from the window to Silas again. The child's eyes are the same pale inscrutable gray as the adult Camilla's, and the child's gaze the same odd mixture of curiosity and serenity.

"Uncle Hilary reads to us sometimes when it's gloomy out," she tells him. "Would you read to me?"

[ghostorangel.livejournal.com]

It was indeed to gloomy to go outdoors, and Silas was glad of an excuse to stay inside. Her question startled him, however--he had never been around small children, and thus had never read aloud. Little!Camilla--whoever she actually was; he still hadn't figured that out--was somewhat unsettling to be around, but her question was oddly...endearing.

"Certainly," he said. "What would you have me read?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla chews a fingernail and thinks. "The book in my room is in a language I can't read, so even if you read it to me I won't understand." Then she remembers: "This castle is magic. If you want something you only have to ask for it." Which makes perfect sense, for a dream castle.

She raises her little voice: "I want the Blue Fairy Book (http://etext.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/LanBlue.html). Please."

Sure enough, a house elf materialises with the book.

"There," says little Camilla, with a satisfied smile, and hands the book to her guardian/babysitter.