When Simonne opened her eyes again, she was colder.
She knew she was colder, partly from the warm feeling of what should have been the cool evening air on her skin. She lifted on hand up and saw it was much bluer than it was before. Simonne stood up unsteadily, nearly tripping on the shards of ice and rubble that lay around her. Simonne took a sad look around at the frozen remains of her house, and with a jolt realized there was still a slight weight on her head. She reached up, knocked off the tiara, and watched it fall onto a slab of ice. She also noticed her backpack lying a few meters away, so she walked over to it and put it on.
Simonne looked back at the tiara, whose jewels were still shining energetically. Sighing, she walked back to the golden crest and picked it up gingerly. The magic had saved her and, whether she liked it or not, she needed it. she pulled out an old strip of cord, looped it through her belt and the tiara's center, and thusly fastened it to her belt. To be easy to reach and use, but only if she needed it.
"You know, you could at least say thank you," a voice puffed softly in her ear.
"I could," Simonne murmured as she stepped carefully through the remains of her home, her heavy backpack rustling as the books and clothing writhing shifted around. "Could but won't."
"You'll come around," Simonne winced as she realized the tiara probably would get a 'thank you' out of her, if it wanted one.
Simonne began walking through the city, where everything was either completely destroys, on fire, or both. She looked around nervously, worrying she might be the only one in the city who survived the attack. Then she heard a shout.
"No!" It sounded like a little boy was yelling nearby. "No, don't leave me again!" Simonne began walking towards the child's voice, hearing a distinct tone of sorrow in it, and hoping whoever it was wasn't being hurt. She stopped when, as she rounded a pile of rubble on a corner, she saw the boy.
He was a very little boy, and looked to be about five. His short black hair seemed to never have know a brush or scissors. He was dressed cutely in plain blue overalls, a red-and-white striped shirt, and red tennis shoes. Oddly, two tiny, razor-sharp, bright white fangs stuck out of his mouth, and his grey hands reached up to rub his blood-red eyes as he began to cry. Simonne walked a little closer, until she was close enough to hear the demon-like boy sniffle.
"Why do you have to go?" the boy began to sob pitifully, and Simonne set her backpack down. "Mommy..." Simonne realized, despite his ghoulish appearance, he was still a child. She couldn't leave a child alone in the remains of a city, where anything could come and hurt him. either way, she was in no position to judge by appearances, as her teeth were sharper than his, and her skin was turning blue. Simonne ran up to the boy, her black shoes clicking on the pavement as she hurried towards him before anything else could. He looked at her, too sad to be afraid as she crouched to wipe a tear from his eye. She didn't speak, but nodded to the boy sympathetically.
Simonne stood up, thinking. She wanted the boy to know that she was a friend, and the best thing she could think of was to give him a gift. She turned to the town's toy store, which was a little distance away, barely in sight. She ran over and looked at the pile of toys spilling out of the broken front window. Right on top, as through put there specifically for her to find, was a bright, brand-new blue bear, with bright pink buttons for eyes. It was perfect, and the least destroyed toy there. She picked it up gently, not wanting to rip or soil it, and returned to the boy, who was looking around fearfully. It looked like he didn't expect her to come back. She handed him the bear, and he hugged it, a smile slowly growing on his face as he looked up at her.
"Hello," Simonne said softly. "I'm Simonne. What's your name?"
The boy wiped the gathering tears from his eyes. "M-my name's M-marshall Lee," he stuttered a bit, still not quite done crying. "You can," he took a deep breath and calmed down. "You can call me Marshall... if you want."
Simonne nodded, faintly surprised that such a little boy like Marshall could be so articulate. "How old are you, Marshall?" she asked, wondering at how her voice could be so soft.
"Six," his eyes flashed with slight excitement. "But I'll be seven soon."
She nodded. "Are you here with anyone else?" she asked, wondering at why anyone would come to the destroyed city.
Marshall frowned, a mixture of sadness and anger filling his expression. "No. My mommy just left me, and I-I don't know where my dad is..."
Simonne rested a hand gently on his shoulder, worrying that he would begin to cry again. "It's okay. I'm sure your dad is fine," she looked around a bit warily. "Do you know where your mom went?"
Marshall looked at her. "Yeah. She went home, and told me to stay here with my daddy. But daddy isn't here..." he let out a growl that was deep, inhuman, and... sad? "I don't know why she never wants to see me..."
"It's okay, Marshall," Simonne smiled reassuringly. "Hey, how would you like to come with me?"
"Really?" He brightened up, his eyes filling with hope.
"Yeah, of course!" Simonne laughed softly. "To be honest, looking the way I am, it's not likely I'll be able to find any other person who would want to stick around with me."
"I think you look pretty," Marshall Lee grinned at her, revealing a mouth full of tiny, razor sharp teeth. "Everyone gets nervous around me for some reason, too!"
Simonne chuckled bitter-sweetly at the thought of people being mean to Marshall, and him laughing at them for it. She stood up without another word and held her hand out to Marshall. He set his tiny hand in it and they walked over to Simonne's backpack, which was where she left it. She put it on, and started to walk through the city with Marshall. Neither know where they were headed, but either way, they knew they were going together.