Sometimes, the old mansion called to Dolce. Not that she could control the urge.
Dolce sat in the Tiny Bandage Clinic, gazing out of the window. A light hail was falling outside, and a light frost clung to the edges of the window. Everything in the clinic was quiet, almost too quiet, as she had the house to herself for awhile. She had settled by the window awhile ago with a cup of tea, but she hadn't moved at all. She tapped the side of her teacup with her delicate finger, trying to ignore the urge to revisit the mansion.
The mansion might look old and worn down, but it used to be her home. Not many of the townsfolk knew of the girl that lived on the creepy house up on the hill until noises emitted from the dreary old thing. Now it was just a memory. A black and white parody of what it used to be. There was a time when the mansion was grand, and just about brand-new. Dolce knew this for a fact because she used to live there when her parents-and Pico-were still alive. There were too many things Dolce knew about the old manor the let go. The expensive paintings on the walls, the floors scrubbed by maids until they shone, the aromas of sweets her mother would make…
Dolce closed her eyes.
Sometimes when the mansion's power was too much to bear, she would seek out Nancy and Jones. Not that she would tell them why, she just sought out their comfort. Their comfort was the only thing Dolce needed. It was her form of bliss that kept her on her feet. Besides, the mansion was long gone...ever since Dolce had sworn her oath to become a guardian, she had been away from the house for too long, and by the time she had learned that her parents and Pico were gone, it was too late to save them. She confined herself in that house until it started to rot, and spirits of hatred had taken over her body, transforming her into a puppet of her former self. Pico had returned had returned as a ghost and had guided someone into the mansion to save Dolce, which she had done. Frey...the young woman, a friend of Ventuswill, who saved Dolce. Dolce knew that she had a lot to return in her thanks for saving her. Besides, Frey was unrelentlessly kind to her. Nancy and Jones had taken her in, and Pico was back. Everything should be alright…
Except, it wasn't.
Every now and then, the dreaded mansion called to Dolce. It was in her knowledge that going back there would mean nothing but trouble. She wouldn't have any spirits reclaiming her body anytime soon. But the house carried too many memories. It was hard to think about and not think about living there day upon day...it gave her comfort when her days were filled with despair.
The children at school used to tease Dolce because she was half-elf. Her father was aware that having a relationship with an elf was looked down upon, and even forbidden, but they loved each other, and that was all that mattered to them. Besides, her mother was a beautiful elven maiden, with her big eyes and rose-colored hair...it was hard to not be put into a trance by her. Somehow, it was Dolce who had inherited her mother's looks, pointy elf ears included. Even though she wasn't even a pureblooded elf, she was still judged for it...but Dolce hadn't cared. She had her parents, and that was what mattered the most to her.
But now, with her parents gone and Pico only a ghost, Dolce found it hard to pull herself together. She loved Nancy and Jones with all of her heart, but she was afraid that if she revealed too much of her past, they would push her away. Besides, it's not like they viewed her as her actual daughter. What was she, a stand-in? Normally, Dolce would seek out advice from Ventuswill, but she had fallen ill in the midst of the war between Sechs and Norad. Dolce could tell she wasn't the only one upset. There were the other three guardians, Amber, Dylas, and Leon...but there was also Frey. Dolce didn't know too much about Frey, but she guess that the princess had grown close to Ventuswill somewhere down along the road. Even so, Frey didn't just seem upset, she seemed...depressed. Very different from her usual kind, upbeat-yet reserved-self. Dolce hardly knew her. What kind of comfort could she give? But then again, they both seemed saddened by the near loss of their best friend...maybe they had more in common than she thought, in a twisted way. Dolce made the decision to talk to Frey. Nothing too extreme maybe just a simple Hello or something of the sort. Dolce sighed and shook her head. What a horrible conversation-starter she was. She would try and talk to her, but she had to put the urge in her heart to rest.
The mansion was beckoning her...
Her tea had gotten cold.