[Moscow] Why is it so cold? [Alla]

Alla wasn't really used to being the spectator. Usually others watched the things she did, or, well, the things Burmin did for example. However, this was not the moment for her to shine. At this particular moment the young witch had the role of an observer and that was quite alright. In fact, it was really interesting to watch the scene and it was definitely very unusual. Even given her work place and the fact that she was a necromancer did not mean that she had ever before witnessed the beginning of a person's existence as a ghost nor did she believe that she'd ever be able to witness anything like that again.

It felt strange somehow that the ghost remembered her. Alla couldn't put it into words why but it felt odd, almost unpleasant and yet flattering. It was confusing to say the very least. Well, the whole situation was confusing and it got even more so the longer it lasted.

Alla almost startled when Aylanmaa mentioned Necromancy. It felt awkward to hear the word spoken by a ghost. The girl almost felt guilty, at least she definitely felt nervous. She shrugged when Aylanmaa mentioned that working at a funeral parlour was an obvious job choice for a Necromancer. It was, of course. Yet, it felt strange to hear it spoken out loud by someone who had just died. She wondered if the other dead girl was aware of what she could do and sometimes did when her boss wasn't around. She did not remember which classes had been Aylanmaa's best ones but she seemed to recall that the other girl had not been into Necromancy herself.

"Well..." Alla began, wanting to explain herself and yet unable to put any of her thoughts into words. It was not necessary either. Aylanmaa seemed at least as confused, as thoughtful as she felt herself.

"A new name?" Alla asked curiously. "You do not want to go by Aylanmaa anymore?"

Oyu-maa...Aydiñ...Urana... she tried them all out in her head, trying to imagine herself responding to one, but nothing seemed to fit. The Ghost had always had great respect for names but until this point had never really considered the enormity of bestowing one upon another person...or indeed, upon herself. Those she was considering were all names a much younger Aylanmaa had called her dolls, and had vaguely thought one or might be a nice name for a daughter one day. She laughed a little, coldly and without mirth.

"It's not a matter of choice..." she murmured, irritated. It wasn't Alla's fault, the poor woman was no doubt having a bad day already by now and she was trying to help. But now she felt like she had to explain, and telling someone else about her own culture made her feel somehow uncomfortable, as if she was offering her diary for public reading, or baring her soul. Oh, well. Alla had already probably seen her dead private parts, or would do soon, so what did it matter? "It's a superstition...in my culture; well, in the village I grew up in at least, it was terrible bad luck to speak the name of the recently-deceased aloud. So I need to change, to be..." she trailed off thoughtfully once again. She was going about this all wrong. She was being too restrictive.

"Tarja" she said thoughtfully, trying out the sound. "Tarja..." she decided she liked it, and it was a perfect solution. Nothing connected with her culture, so her parents wouldn't need to find out by accident that there was a Tyvan ghost existing in...wherever she was now. Nothing that was easily traceable; the name of a childhood friend with whom she had long since lost contact...a new beginning. Because that was what this was, in a way. "The first day of the rest of my life...death" she said, and then again came the same mirthless laughter.

"Yes. I'm Tarja now." she said, realising that she had been pacing the floor while she thought - or at least, drifting back and forth across a relatively short space of ground. And she'd done it without needing to concentrate! The newly-named ghost Tarja felt something akin to being pleased with herself. "and I need to...rest?" she felt tired - not physically, she supposed that was impossible now, but mentally. She felt like she wanted to float somewhere in the darkness for a while, and do her best not to think.

Alla listened intently when Aylanmaa or rather the nameless ghost explained about her culture and not speaking the names of recently deceased people. It was superstition, of course. It was something that Alla herself did not believe in but someone who raised the dead did not believe in many such things anyway. It just didn't work for her. However, she did not mind calling the dead girl by another name than the one she knew. It not matter to her if she was Aylanmaa or Baba Yaga or whatever name the girl might pick for herself.

"Tarja," Alla repeated thoughtfully and looked at the translucent figure. Yes, Tarja could work. The laughter of the ghost Tarja sounded hollow and a little scary. While Alla did not feel frightened herself, she felt uncomfortable all the same. This was the first time she was in touch with a recently deceased whom she could talk to and it made all the difference. She felt like she could not touch the body now that she had spoken to the girl's ghost. Maybe Nikolai Daniilovich could continue the work there once he returned.

When Tarja mentioned that she needed to rest, Alla frowned, thinking that ghosts did not rest at all but then again they could not always be actively floating around, could they? That had to be tiring even for a dead person. Without being properly aware of it, the necromancer looked at the clock on the opposite wall and then nodded to herself. It was time for her to leave. She could continue her work the next day or ask for Nikolai Daniilovich's help then.

"Yes... well, it's time for me to go home..." she mumbled. "I guess I'll... see you around..." her voice trailed off as she realised that she would see the body of Aylanmaa for sure but felt less certain that she'd see the ghost Tarja again. However, where would the ghost go? Where could she go? All Alla wanted was to get out now. Hastily she put the body back into the cooling compartment and grabbed her coat and bag. "I'll be back tomorrow..." she offered, feeling slightly guilty for her hasty departure but calming herself at the same time because it had been Tarja who had wanted to rest in the first place.

[Alla out]

She closed her eyes, and she couldn't see through her eyelids, and that discovery brought a sense of relief. Or had she already realised that? Tarja couldn't remember, it seemed as if a dreadfully long time had passed. A whole lifetime, one might say, and again came the mirthless laugh. She could sit - after a fashion - she could move, she could close her eyes to block out the world...that wasn't a bad list of discoveries for one's first day of existence. No newborn baby was ever so accomplished as she! Was it any wonder he was tired?

But when Alla spoke again whatever she was feeling was replaced by fear. Alla was leaving? She was going home? But that meant Tarja would be left all alone with...herself. Her...corpse... She wanted the girl to stay, to sit with her all night, to watch over her while she slept like Mama had done when she was very small and had been frightened by a nightmare. But her pride refused to allow her to say anything. At least her companion would be back tomorrow. Tomorrow would come soon enough, wouldn't it? "See you tomorrow..." she echoed, and then, perhaps too late for the girl to hear, as the door was closing "Goodbye..."

Her words echoed around the empty room, mingling with the fading footsteps and she supposed she would be able to float through the closed door had she wanted to, go into another room, another building, go anywhere she wanted to...but where did she want to go? What did she want to do? She'd had such ambitions, so many plans for her life, and now they weren't going to happen, unless she could find someone to write her exams for her, turn the pages of her books while she was studying...the spark of an idea formed. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. She could still read, so she could still learn things, and there had been cases of sickly students who had gained theoretical qualifications; why couldn't she be one of them? She was just a little sicker than most...she could be the first ghost healer, no, that sounded wrong, the first healer who just happened to be a ghost. People could describe their symptoms and she could tell them which potion they needed to use...

Oh, it was hopeless. She sank to the ground, managing to stop before she began to sink through it, and sat with her head in her hands, though the position brought no relief, no discomfort, nothing. Nothing. That was all she was now.

The lights in the room were dimming; the charm that kept them bright presumably only working when there was a living person there. It was dark outside by now, she assumed. And she didn't know if this was a wizarding area, so even if she had the nerve to move beyond the confines of these walls she had no idea if she could find acceptance or screams.

On the floor of the funeral parlour, Tarja waited in the dark. Endlessly.

[Tarja out. I hope that cheered you all up ]