[ Carla does not look like her usual self. She has been frozen in time for years, trapped at the twenty-four she was shot and killed at. It wasn't that the time didn't show on her, her eyes were heavy and her skin was scarred, but she had remained the lithe and whip-sharp creature she had been in her youth. She looks more comfortable now, like she's settled into her skin and let it feel like her own again.

If you asked her how she broke the curse and let her body age again, she wouldn't answer you. It's not a polite topic of conversation to discuss a woman's age, and she had never expected to get this far.

More than ten years since yesterday.

She has a water bottle in her hands, looking out from a balcony that's perched just above the tree line, the house itself built up onto a hill. A familiar estate to some. ]

The gallery opens at eleven, the show is at three. I expect all of you to come. The food's free, as long as you buy something.

[ A wry little smile, teeth still sharp in all of her expressions. She finishes off the water bottle and heads inside, taking the device with her to display a wall of various pieces of art. ]

If you donate enough, you can come home with me for dinner.

[ The smiles are still lewd too. ]


[[ooc; Grownup Carla that was never destined to beeee. Decided to pull her forward in body and mind, so she's doing that art thing in her big fancy house with her pack of monster dogs. Replies will come from ecorche

Can go for action anywhere you like! ]]

I don't recall coming to this place, but I suppose we must have arrived last night. Riff and I, I mean. I wouldn't travel with anyone else. Someone told me it's called 'the City', which I think is rather a stupid name for a city. Cities ought to have proper names, like London and Paris and Moscow and Rome do. Everyone talks about 'going into the city' and everyone knows what city they mean, because they usually mean London, but you can't very well have a city called 'the City' because then how could anyone know what city you mean? It's rather stupid, I think.

Perhaps it says something about the people who live here too, though I rather hope not. Most of the people I've met so far seem quite friendly. I went out into the town earlier today to see it for myself. There seem to be a great many children here, which I rather liked.

Anyway, I've not yet found Riff, but I suspect he's on some errand or other. I'm quite sure he and I must have arrived here very late last night and I couldn't see where we were because of the darkness. I would certainly never fall asleep on the train or in the carriage. That would be unseemly. But I'm not worried. He'll show his face soon enough when he knows I truly need him. He might even see me writing this and come home to tell me I shouldn't have written so much or been so unkind about something. Not that he actually scolds me. He wouldn't dare do that. But he'll tell me these things sometimes. I suppose he means well, though I don't always listen to him. I like it better when he brings me tea and keeps my aunts and uncles away.

I suppose that might be why we came here: to get away from my aunts and uncles. Do you see how I wrote that? With the : and everything? You see, you have to have an excellent way with words and know how to use them properly when you're an earl. And since I am an earl, I have to have an excellent way with words. It only makes sense.

I seem to recall that my father and I visited this place. That was before he died. I think some people must have made this theatre into a hotel, because we've certainly stayed her before. It's quite comfortable, I think. There are two cats here who seem to like me very much. And I think I like them very much too. I didn't have many pets when I was younger, but I suppose now I can have all the pets I choose.

Riff should come back very soon, I hope. Perhaps he's gone to fetch supper. If he doesn't come back, I shall have to find my own supper. And I know he'll be cross if I find something for myself. But I'm quite old enough to do that sort of thing. I've even a bit of money I can spend if I go back into the town again. I went out earlier today to take a look around. It's really a rather pleasant town and I like it quite well. I could easily see myself coming back here to visit again. It is quaint and picturesque but perhaps it is a little peculiar.

I rather like having such a thing that I can write on as I please. I needn't send this like a letter to anyone, nor do I need to keep it to myself as I would in a journal. It's rather like anyone writing something for a newspaper as he pleases, and anyone who wants to read it very well can. It's rather grand, I think.

And I think I will see to my own supper tonight. Riff can tell me that I shouldn't have gone out by myself or that he meant to bring me supper a little later but he can't very well stop me if he isn't here, now can he? Yes, I believe I will go out.

Good evening to everyone in 'The City' and thank you for your hospitality. It is a great pleasure to visit your city.

~Lord Cain C. Hargreaves
Earl of Hargreaves

[ooc: Cain has been aged down! He is now about 11 years old--we've seen youthful Cain before, I'm sure, but this time... This time, he's been aged down to just after his father has (apparently) jumped to his death. Which means that this youthful Cain isn't in his shadow or under his thumb. Expect trouble!]

[ At first the video only shows the dark canopy of the trees above. It shudders and shakes as though whoever's holding on to the device doesn't necessarily understand what it does and that it's filiming. High childish humming filters through ( a butchered rendition of Row, row, row your boat ) and the feed dips as a child - a boy of less than eight - swings into view to clamber over a tree trunk. He giggles when he trips, landing in a pile of leaves and sending the phone itself sliding. ]

Mom, mommy. [ Drawing out the o sound. ] I'm bored of hide and seek. Come out so we can go play with daddy. [ Jumping to his feet. ] He'll make the ne-naw noise and it'll be great.

[ The very edge of the video catches him glance around himself. ] Not s'posed to be in the woods. He'll 'rest us.

( ooc: so stiles is de-aged and lost in the woods. he's a little shit and i don't have a journal for him because work so imagine this dumb kid ok. :) )