Lea has always liked kids. Even though her heart is pounding, adrenaline making her fingers twitch (she has a much stronger 'fight' reflex than a 'flight' one, she wanted to wreck that place, in her heart of hearts), she crouches down to the little ghost-girl's eye level too, tucking sweater sleeves over her fingertips. The memory of those--it must have been thousands, really--grasping hands won't leave her any time soon, and it's hard to resist glancing back.
"Not if we get him first," Lea says. "We've come to find him. What is your name?"
There is a hesitation. "Sabrina," she says, finally.
"I'm Lea, and this is Wolfgang," Lea tells her, indicating Wolfgang with a tip of her head. Seeing ghosts is always many things, often sad, but a little child ghost is the worst. She can guess, vaguely, how long this girl has been trapped here, but not whether her death precedes the activity they're following here. For all she knows, it could have been nesting in this city for centuries, waiting to make its move.
"I followed you," Sabrina admits. "Are you really looking for the bad man? He'll hurt you. He makes people hurt themselves and they--they get ugly. Like monsters."
no subject
"Not if we get him first," Lea says. "We've come to find him. What is your name?"
There is a hesitation. "Sabrina," she says, finally.
"I'm Lea, and this is Wolfgang," Lea tells her, indicating Wolfgang with a tip of her head. Seeing ghosts is always many things, often sad, but a little child ghost is the worst. She can guess, vaguely, how long this girl has been trapped here, but not whether her death precedes the activity they're following here. For all she knows, it could have been nesting in this city for centuries, waiting to make its move.
"I followed you," Sabrina admits. "Are you really looking for the bad man? He'll hurt you. He makes people hurt themselves and they--they get ugly. Like monsters."