*rises violently from the grave* I LIVE!

Sweet lord, it's been almost a year O_o I'M SO SORRY

So a lot's happened in the past year. I fell into Undertale, Marvel, and various other fandoms, and I got stuck on how to proceed with this story. Very stuck. Hopefully you guys are still interested in reading this story, but if not, then I understand. It's been a while. Regardless, I'm going to finish it!

Enjoy this admittedly short chapter, and the bomb that I'm dropping onto your heads :P

Chapter 28 - Whimsy Walker

Christmas was less than a week away, and in Edgely Manor, it was being received with both excitement and morbid horror. Valkyrie and the Pups were both wrapped up (puns!) in the Christmas cheer, and even roped a reluctant clarity into helping with decorations and buying presents. The Dead Men didn't dare get in Valkyrie's way, preferring to keep to themselves this time of year. Christmas was a time for family, which none of them really had anymore, for various reasons.

But they didn't complain about the cheesy Christmas songs being blasted from the radio, or the tinsel and pine needles that got absolutely everywhere, or the constant replays of classic Christmas movies that they'd grown sick of at least fifteen years ago, for Valkyrie's sake. She was young, and her family was still with her; she deserved to enjoy the holiday to its full extent while she could.

They would've spent all their time hiding away in the Sanctuary, but sadly, they weren't free from the mind-numbing cheer there, either. Mesmer had used her influence (both psychic and authoritative) to get the staff to decorate every room possible. Ghastly was just thankful she'd shown some restraint, and drawn the line at a few garlands, wreaths, and other simple decorations for any other holidays that the Sanctuary staff celebrated. He didn't think he'd be able to handle the sight of tinsel wrapped around the Cleavers' scythes like last year, or pine needles littering the floor and making a mess of his clothes. Although he was a little miffed at the obnoxious blinking of the light-up tree someone had placed on his desk whilst he'd stepped out for a coffee. Setting his drink next to the pile of paperwork, he unplugged the distracting ornament before getting back to work.

The peace didn't last long though, before he was distracted yet again by the shrill shrieks of Tipstaff echoing into his office.

"Miss, I can't allow you to go in there! Elder Bespoke is working, you need to schedule a meeting with him!"

Ghastly didn't hear anyone answer, so he assumed that the Administrator was being ignored. His assumptions were confirmed when the door to his office opened and someone walked in. Without knocking, might he add, but that was hardly more irritating than Tipstaff's distressed yelling.

"Miss, I must ask you to leave!" he demanded loudly, rushing in after the woman, who was now stood in front of Ghastly's desk and looking a little lost. She looked young, seemingly not much older than twenty, with a petite frame and an almost fragile demeanour about her. Long, light brown hair was tied up in a plait, and stray strands were held back by a yellow headband. Her clothing was a simple affair of denim jeans and a loose white t-shirt decorated with roses.

But it was her eyes that caught Ghastly's attention. Pale, pale blue, flecked with gold, tired and stressed as if she hadn't slept in a while.

He recognised her from somewhere…

"It's alright, Tipstaff," Ghastly said calmly. "I have time."

For a moment, Tipstaff could only flounder for words before he just nodded and left. Ghastly put aside the paperwork in front of him and gave the woman a friendly smile.

"Please, sit down, Miss," he offered, gesturing towards the empty chair in front of his desk. The woman nodded and sat down. "What's your name?"

"Whimsy," the girl said, her voice soft but taut. "Whimsy Walker. It's nice to see you, Elder Bespoke."

Whimsy. He'd heard that name before.

"Please, just call me Ghastly," the tailor requested, feeling a need to be friendly towards her for some reason. "How can I help you, Miss Walker?"

"Umm, it's just Whimsy. I… I need your help with… trying to… How do I put this? My brother's in prison, and… they won't let me see him, not even when I call ahead. It's been almost a year, and… I'm really worried. He's not replied to any of my letters, or called me, and… I think something happened to him."

As she spoke, she grew visibly upset to the point where she was blinking back tears, and Ghastly felt his heart go out to her.

Whimsy carried on, her voice strained, "I thought that… that maybe… maybe you'd be willing to help. You knew him, and… I know you were friends once, so… could you at least make a call? Ask them to let me see him? Please, I'm really worried about him."

"Of course," Ghastly said, ready to go and find the file that contained all the contacts for Ireland's gaols. "What's the name of the gaol?"

"Shelainn Gaol," Whimsy replied quietly.

"And your brother's name?"

"Erskine Ravel."