(Usually, she would sag back into the house and declare that the end of it, but she pauses to watch the boy flick back over his photos and... wait!
A surprised laugh leaks out of Lucretia, rusty from disuse. It sounds more like a door creaking, than a laugh. He sees her. He's caught her on his camera! She can't remember the last time she'd been visible to anybody. Feels like years, feels like decades.
She hides in the ceiling and watches him stalk from room to room, searching for a sign that somebody is pulling a joke on him. While Lucretia would love to stay here and mess with him a bit more, she's hyper aware that pulling anything on a paranormal activity-esque level may scare him right out of the house never to return, and she's aching to be noticed, for somebody to talk to.)
You can see me, (she sighs, her voice light like wind, like a draft. While Taako scans the room, she drifts down from the ceiling and draws herself solidly together, more so than she's done in a while. She resembles a woman in her mid-twenties; she has on a jacket and jeans, with holes in the knees. The jacket was red once but Lucretia can't remember how to make parts of herself colours any more. She's transparent, devoid of colour though not of features. The outlines of her are bright as anything.
She has so many questions for him she's nearly vibrating with excitement. Maybe for now, it's best to stick with the basics.) What year is it?
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A surprised laugh leaks out of Lucretia, rusty from disuse. It sounds more like a door creaking, than a laugh. He sees her. He's caught her on his camera! She can't remember the last time she'd been visible to anybody. Feels like years, feels like decades.
She hides in the ceiling and watches him stalk from room to room, searching for a sign that somebody is pulling a joke on him. While Lucretia would love to stay here and mess with him a bit more, she's hyper aware that pulling anything on a paranormal activity-esque level may scare him right out of the house never to return, and she's aching to be noticed, for somebody to talk to.)
You can see me, (she sighs, her voice light like wind, like a draft. While Taako scans the room, she drifts down from the ceiling and draws herself solidly together, more so than she's done in a while. She resembles a woman in her mid-twenties; she has on a jacket and jeans, with holes in the knees. The jacket was red once but Lucretia can't remember how to make parts of herself colours any more. She's transparent, devoid of colour though not of features. The outlines of her are bright as anything.
She has so many questions for him she's nearly vibrating with excitement. Maybe for now, it's best to stick with the basics.) What year is it?