The morning mist clung heavily around the world, obscuring most details of Morrigan's environment unless she was standing within five feet of it. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, and if it wasn't for her being so use to spending most of her life wandering the darkness, it was unlike that she'd have been able to navigate the unfamiliar territory.

Even Irish summers had been so much colder than what Mystic Falls turned out to be. Lismore, Morrigan's home but not home town, was small, barely scrapping over a thousand people, and homely, with her, her grandmother, and her mother barely being able to leave the house without running into over 20 people they knew who wanted to have long lengthy chats with them. Mystic falls wasn't quite as small, but still smaller then where she and her mother could have ended up if the fates had been different and not us kind to them. And what she remembered from when she was younger and before her mother had moved her back to her hometown, the people were big on connections.

It was going to be fun, fun, fun.

Puffing in the last dregs of her hand rolled cigarette, Morrigan threw it to the ground and stomped out the last dying embers. It didn't really matter if she hadn't though, the ground was covered in a thick layer of dew and wouldn't be catching light anytime soon. But just to be sure.

The Mystic falls cemetery was old. By Colonialist American standards that it. The Graveyard's, and yes there was a difference, that Morrigan was accustom to were far older then the colonies ones', and were always more interesting to walk through in the morning light. The lingering spirts always had more interesting things to say, and better advice to give. The dead of Mystic Falls were all doom and gloom it would seem.

Her father's soul seemed to be no different.

Alexander Addams

March 3rd 1972- June 7th 2000

Loving father and Husband

No-one had been around to really look after her father's headstone, and as such it wasn't in the best condition considering it was only 9 years old. It had started to weather around the edges, and a thin layer of moss had begun to grow around the bottom. No flowers were laid at the headstone, but along the top Morrigan had placed a couple of lit beeswax candles, and a few hard candies that her father had enjoyed in life. Along with a small cake she had baked the night before.

"Okay papa," Morrigan began, where Irish accent coming out strong. "I'm sorry me and Ma didn't get around to visiting you sooner. I've been a little busy and Ma's not really into leaving the house at the moment. I bought you some treats though, so I'm hoping that'll make up for the 9 years of silence on our end."

A small gust of wind blew, flickering one of the candles out. "Fair enough I suppose," Morrigan muttered, frowning at the smoking candle wick. "You have ever right to be angry, but you know why Ma couldn't return, and if she couldn't I couldn't."

Another gust of wind, this one slightly stronger then the last blew, extinguishing another candle. "Now you're just being childish. I said I was sorry about ignoring you, and I'm here now. So," Morrigan plopped down on the ground before smiling at her father's grave. "Are you going to be all moppy and not talk to me or are we going to sit here and have a conversation like adults?"

Morrigan smile fell of her face as a last gust of wind blew the last candle out. Scowling at the three now useless candles, she reached forward and took the cake off her fathers headstone. "Fine if you want to be like that be like that. You're not getting a cake though. This is mine now," she taunted, taking a bite out of the cake. "Delicious."

Pulling herself of the ground, Morrigan shoved the rest of the cake into her mouth as she wiped of dirt, grass, and sticks from her stockings. "I've got to go papa. You don't want to talk to me which is fine whatever, but I've got it get to school. No use being late on my first day. Although, I could just not show up at all…hmmm….."

Grabbing her bag, which she left resting to the side, she bent over and kissed her father's headstone, tasting stone and dirt and just the faintest hint of after shave.

"I'll stop by soon okay? Maybe we can talk next time then huh? Be actual grown up adults."

Pivoting around, Morrigan made her way towards the exit of the cemetery, which led onto a main road. She'd parked her bike near the front of the cemetery, not being bothered to really find the actual parking lot like she should have.

A man in a uniform stood near the bike, writing up a ticket.

Well. Fuck.

"Excuse me kind sir," Morrigan began, picking up pace towards the man.

He momentarily stopped in his writing of the ticket to look up at her frowning. "Is this your boke miss?"

"Yeah It is."

"You're not suppose to park on the side walk you know?"

"I'm so sorry sir, I just, it's been so long since I've visited my father's grave and I wanted to see him before I start school."

Frowning, the man eyed Morrigan up and down. "You're not from around here are you?"

"Oh, what gave me away?" she asked, laying her accent on thick.

"Accent." Well he was a bright one.

"No sir. Me ma and I use to live here when I was younger but had to move after me pa died. We only moved back a few days ago and I haven't had time to see me pa's resting place."

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, but I'm not going to give you a free pass. This is dangerous and illegal."

Rats. The dead dad stick wasn't working.

Reaching forwards, Morrigan grabbed his lower bicep making eye contact with him. For a moment his eyes glassed over and when he looked at Morrigan again, it was as if he was looking at an old loved one. "I'm sorry about my parking Davy," Morrigan began, her accent lost and her voice now a completely different texture now. "It won't happen again."

"It's fine mum," the officer, apparently Davy, said, smiling wistfully at Morrigan. "It didn't cause any harm this time. Just don't do it again."

"Thank you Davy," Morrigan said, letting go of Davy's arm. The man blinked a handful of times, before frowning at Morrigan and walking away. Interestingly enough, into the cemetery.

"That man should really visit his mother more often," Morrigan muttered, her accent back in place, as she climbed on to her bike and took off.