In the Dead of the Night || Winter Soldier

Three: Blizzard Roomies!

Be sure to play the songs above when reading the chapters. I find it rather enjoyable listening to some low music when reading a new chapter :)

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A little girl sits atop a purple, plastic child's chair with a youthful glee, a glee only one who has yet to experience the dark hour of reasoning and truth could possibly possess. Naivety and ignorance is found in its purest form in the likes of children, the innocence of a child enough to hold the dark hour of reasoning at bay with creativity, wonder, awe and simplicity.

Her mother, a woman with hair that captures the essence of midnight, blissfully watches her daughter at play, the five year old Victoria Morana Kingsley passing imaginary scones and empty tea cups to the vacant chairs that sit opposite her. Olivia Murphy-Kingsley knew better than to mistake them for vacant however, her eyes fluttering shut as she deeply inhales, only opening them upon the levelled exhale after.

Two spirits, both young, a boy and girl, smile across the stickered table at little Tori. The innocence and creativity of a child does not dissipate in death, rendering them more powerful spirits than a fully grown adult. The boy proceeds to eat his imaginary scone with a fervour commonly found in a starved child, whilst the young girl sips her tea with her tiny pinkie finger stretched up ramrod straight, reaching for the stars.

Necromancy not only allows one to see the dead, but almost entirely bend them to a Necromancer's will. Because of this, most frequently mistake it for an evil, dark art. Dark magic it may be, but light and dark magic can both be used for evil or good, just the same as a gun or knife. Magic is only as evil as the person who wields it. Nonetheless, it is dangerous just as fire is dangerous. Any magic practitioner who forgets this truth, gets burned.

"Monkey," Olivia softly announces her presence in the doorway to her daughter, using her doting nickname for young Victoria. "Time for bed."

Tori's little lip protrudes into a pout upon turning around and hearing the news. "But William and Clary just got here mummy. We haven't even started our sammiches."

Olivia smiles at her daughter's endearing mispronunciations. "I think you mean sandwiches darling."

"That's what I said," Tori affirms, trying to one up the adult. "Sammiches."

"Save the sammiches for tomorrow monkey," Olivia kindly instructs the five year old, making her way over to the tiny bed and drawing back the Princess and the Frog covering. "Every princess needs her beauty sleep."

"I'm not a pwincess." The beginnings of a tantrum begin to dwell beneath the surface of Victoria Kingsley. "Tiana wasn't a pwincess, but she became one! I wanna work like she did, 'cause we're like her right now! Imma work and work and one day, Imma be a pwincess be-cause I worked! And Imma kick any Shadow mans I meet, 'cause I won't let them turn me into a fwog."

Shadow man. Olivia has been forced through the Princess and the Frog more times than she thought humanely possible, but finds no surprise that her little one would despise the main villain. After all, Necromancy is a form of witchcraft, and witchcraft and voodoo have been at odds since the beginning of magic.

"Even workers need their sleep Victoria," her mother coaxes, sitting atop the covers expectantly but patiently. "I'll tell you your favourite bed time story?"

The squeal unleashed could shatter glass, Tori quite quickly sparing the two spirits a farewell before all but launching herself into bed, pulling the covers up to her face and awaiting her favourite bed time story to leave the lips of her mother. Olivia does not reach for any book within the room, for the extraordinarily short story she tells she has known since she herself was a young girl, no older than two. Tucking the young Victoria in, she wears a smile of assurance and comfort than one could only ever receive from their own parents.