Magic, perhaps a prospect many were most fascinated over. Fanatical and mysterious, the kind of thing many would aspire to have…if the concept so much as existed.
Crusch couldn't deny that she was a fanatic when it came to the mystical arts, although not real there was most definitely a soothing atmosphere it had on her; perhaps it was the brief moments of falsity that she held the ability to do anything as she pleased, be whoever she wanted and achieve things she could've never dreamed of her entire life. A false mask of importance and a pitiful escapism, usually lined across the shelves in her room were a multitude of books catered to a specific genre of her liking; fantasy.
It was a small two bedroomed apartment that she remembered, nothing special yet quite stylized by her tastes and hobbies, the typical modern aesthetics she switched for the old classic taste's to emulate the abode of a witch or perhaps a person who dealt with those kinds of things. She grew fond of that place quite much but what she witnessed in front of her was…well..if she had to explain it, quite dazzling.
Crusch Crowewell had died a little over midnight in her own apartment, the reason? An unexpected suicide, she remembered the day well although her memories fogged most of the details out for her own good but she could remember the long cycle of depression, the spiralling mess everything in her life was trundling down to following her eviction from work and struggling rental fees…quite harrowing memories and at that point she couldn't take it. Timid and hopelessness was a long running trait of her's that she'd long come accustomed to, cowardice was also something simply a part of her character so much so that hope quite quickly dissipated from her body like dissolving bubbles and she'd lost it the moment she'd lost her job.
Main point was, wasn't she supposed to have died? Her death was quick, painless so to speak and although she had zero expectations for an afterlife there was still the lingering fear of where she was going next.
The moments were fleeting but she remembered the light that came a few seconds after that darkness, dim light and then blinking as she woke up in this strange room.
"Where am I?" She was staring at a ceiling, noticing it wasn't that of her apartment which was a dull grey but of wooden bearings and dusty corners, "I'm sure I did it properly right? Hah, as if even I could fail at a task that simple…"
She mused and mocked, noticing a soft pillow like sensation on her back as she slowly rose to sit up right and gazed at the platform she'd been lying on, a strikingly fancy bed and about twice the size of the one she was already using at the time before her death as she smirked.
"The afterlife sure does know how to please its inhabitants" She laughed and slid off the bed, this had to be the afterlife for there was no doubt in her mind that she was either dead or dying, however the point was that her waking wasn't a sign of her living but that she was in a place far more different, for after all; if the weapon hadn't killed her then the head injury was at least fatally wounding.
She slowly stepped foot on a wooden floor, slightly warm to the touch and analyzed the foreign room she was in. Aesthetically pleasing wise and it was completely her type, it was twice the size of her own bedroom not to mention that a bookshelf covered a wide expanse of the place as if encompassing her. She glanced at the far end of this bedroom, finding a wardrobe then a dresser with various cosmetics and hair brushes clustered all over. Taking a single step forward and there was a crunching noise below her feet as she looked down only to realize that she'd stepped on a piece of paper, many in fact.
'What's all this?—'
"Lady Ludmilla, are you awake in there?"
'Ludmilla….?'
There was a flicker and a flash in her mind as the name triggered a reaction from her thoughts, a pain suddenly surfacing in her mind while she staggered back in shock, clutching her head in surprise. Images flashed past her thoughts in random succession, scattered and incoherent but discernibly comprehensible. There was a family she'd never heard of, laughter, happiness and love.
More and more of these images continued to flood her thoughts till she crashed onto the floor and smashed into the book shelf behind her as a few of the books fell to the ground in loud thuds.
"Lady Ludmilla!!" There was a cry from the other side of the door as it was flung open with frantic movements, she was panting profusely, eyes wide as the images started to fade in succession.
"Lady Ludmilla! Are you alright? Lady Ludmilla!?" The maid was in front of her, no, this wasn't simply a maid anymore or just some simple stranger.
"Melissa?" Melissa suddenly froze, gazing at Ludmilla with great scrutiny.
"Yes, Lady Ludmilla" she suddenly grabbed her hand and held up her fingers, "Please inform me of how many fingers I'm holding up"
Ludmilla's expression suddenly froze as well as she smiled with a twitch, "I'm fine"
"M'Lady, please comply with procedure"
"Four, it's four alright!!"