Still I Sing Bonny Boys, Bonny Mad Boys....

It was early. Lillith reflected on the cool early morning air as she made her way down to the subway station. The dirty feel and smell filled her senses as she walked down the stairway to reach the first train of the day at 5:30. What a miserable place this is, filled with miserable people Lillith thought to herself, and, as she did so, grinned. This was the type of place for her. Where people huddled together in filth that never seemed to be cleaned to go to places that they hated and continued to hate more each and every day, it was wonderful. As she moved to the open car, a white number one smugged with dirt and grime placed on its doors, she noticed a woman towards the back of the car. Lillith walked into the car, took a seat, and watched as the woman, who seemed to have a lot on her mind, went about picking up her stuff. The woman looked up and at Lillith,
"What?" she asked irately. Lillith just smiled a condescending smile,
"So sorry, didn't mean to treat you like a spectacle." Lillith didn't even bother to wait to see what the woman's next reaction was. The train started.

...................................................

A few hours later Lillith got off the dingy number one train and prepared to emerge once more into the grungy haze that was Washington Heights, but that was not what greeted her. The sunlight hit her face and caused her to throw her hands up to protect her eyes. Since when does the sun shine here? Lillith made her way onward to her shop The Wrath, when she noticed that a branch from a tree in the park she was now in front of had fallen, an old woman was standing over what appeared to be the body of a young child. Lillith stood and stared at the scene before her wearing a blank expression as she took in all that had obviously happened and what that meant, then she turned and jay-walked across the street to her shop. The dog was gone, the cheery lighting in the shop was gone, no remnants of that other woman remained. Lillith smiled to herself as she went in and, even though the sun was shining, believed that, considering all the misery she had seen thus far, today was going to be a wonderful day.

Not With A Bang, But a Whimper

This can't be! It's impossible. No I refuse to believe it! Fey sat frantically staring down at the few papers in her hands. There it was, visible as the sun, but then again here in Washington Heights the sun was never visible. This must be the same. There was no way.
Of course it is. Just read it.
"That voice! Where is it coming from? Why? What is happening? Go Away!"
And yet Fey found herself looking at the pile of papers. Outside Fey heard the faint call of an ice cream truck, as if mocking the childhood Fey knew nothing of, and now wasn't sure she wanted to learn about.
"Stop it! My God! That Music!" Recently Fey had been blacking out more and more, to the extent she realized she couldn't call it spacing out. Things were slipping. Days were fading. People she saw were becoming vague figures in her mind, she knew she'd seen them, but she couldn't remember where. When she'd come to the shop today, the lava lamps were on. Fey never left them on. Finicky had become more distant from her as well. Choosing to stay at the apartment more often then not, and he hadn't had the same familiarity as he used to. On the counter the stack of papers Fey now held had been placed. After reading the first few lines on the top page, Fey had stopped reading.
"The patient shows that there may be far deeper conflicts at work within her. Apart from her outward personality, one which seems to be built entirely upon the joy of seeing others' misery, there is another, more delicate, personality that seems to wish to see only the good in every creature and object on earth. It seems that some childhood incident led to this separation of essentially 'light' and 'dark'. However, whatever the cause, the dominant personality Lillith has been reluctant to share anything about herself, and it appears that the passive personality, who seems to not even have a name, doesn't even know of Lillith's existence, nor her situation."
Fey just sat and stared. What didn't she know? What had happened? Read on, it'll explain enough. The voice had been getting louder and louder, and harder to ignore. Fey didn't want to read on. She wouldn't. No. She slammed the papers on the table and ran out the shop into the street.

.......................................

Fey didn't know how she wound up at the chapel, or when memories started to come back. She sat there with her back against one of the walls of the chapel. Like the world around her it was cold to the touch. She leaned her head back against it, the tears she'd cried had mixed with the dust around her and created streaks of dark against the lightness of her skin. Just a few years ago Fey had left the hospital, but before that.......
"Fey I'm really impressed with the progress we've made. You seem to have really blossomed."
"Thank you Dr. Loomis. I appreciate your kind encouragement." Loomis smiled at Fey, the name she'd picked out seemed so appropriate.
That's right. He helped me pick the name out. Then later.....
"Without her intruding upon your life, I believe that you can live happily." It had been years since Loomis had such a promising patient. "Now, you know that after the session you probably won't remember most of you time here, if any. Anything you associate with her will be erased from your memory." Fey nodded.
"But I'll be free, right? No more of her mind games, she'll be gone. Asleep." A worried look crossed Fey's face. In the past all the various pills out to control this disorder had failed. Lillith always returned. She was just too strong.
"Yes, she should go to sleep. Now remember, there is no guarantee that she will remain gone. But if she will resurface, it is in her personality to resurface sooner rather than later."

Back in the present, Fey laughed.
"It was all part of her plan to get me comfortable and then take everything back. She's free. Nothing to stop her, the check-ups stopped a year and a half ago. The world is hers." Inside her head Fey heard a cold laugh. This was it. There could be no other way. Fey had failed in the past and would fail now, but maybe she could leave some goodness in the world.

Fey shut the door to her apartment and took the basket she carried to the elevator. She rode for a purpose today. On the 9th floor, Fey got off. She reached inside her and allowed her feelings to guide her. Outside apartment 982, she placed the basket full of candles and incense for luck and love.

Fey turned and went back to the elevator, perhaps for HER last ride.

Interlude II

Excellent, they're all here. Lillith riffeled through the papers in the envelope. They were all there, the hospital records, back history, paitient statements, treatment records from the institution, everything; even a photo. More important than them being there, though, was what she could do with them. Lillith had been tried for months to get Fey to notice her existance before she'd realized Fey didn't remember her. That's why getting the records was so important. When she chose to, Lillith would become dominant again and push that simple do gooder to the back with these papers. It would all flood back-everything, and then it would be over.

There was only one life up for grabs, and she would do anything to get it.

I Am Nobody, Who Are You?

Brrrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggggg. Brrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggg.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang, but Fey didn't feel like answering. Nobody ever worth while ever call here anyways, she thought to herself, as her normally straight and relaxed figure slumped in her chair. Wait! What am I saying? That's not like me at all. It was true. Over the last few days Fey had felt as though someone were watching her every move, or that she herself was in fact someone entirely different then who she thought she was. She shook her head and picked up the phone just an arm's length away.
"Hello? Yes, this is she. I'm sorry? No, I'm afraid I don't understand. No...I never made a call to your office. I'm not trying to be funny, I'm telling the truth. But.........I see. Well, I might as well. Thank you, Goodbye." Fey set the phone lightly upon its reciever and looked at Finicky.
"That was a lady from The City. Apparently, the files I requested are being sent to my mailbox at the appartment, no need to come in and pick them up. But, I don't recall requesting any files." Fey sat and pet Finicky for a few more minutes before returning to her work, incense today. Within a few minutes she was lost in a different world where her hands worked skillfully and deftly to make the alluring sticks and cones. Finicky, sensing something in the air, moved to the far corner.

............................................

"That should do it," Fey said wiping her hands on her skirt. She cleaned up and went out to take lunch, Finicky happily trotted along with her. On their way to the cafe at the end of the road, Fey stopped in to get her mail. There in her box was a plain manilla envelope. Inside was a paper with a single name written on it, Lillith Sparrow. Who are you? Fey wondered as she turned the paper over in her hand, and as if to answer her question a scrap fell onto the floor. Fey picked it up.

"I am nobody, who are you?"

Interlude

The woman's fingers ran over the counter, in the corner there was a slight whimper from the dog. It was silenced with a single look. Focusing back on the counter, she thought of how easy it would be to just smash this dirty little kitchen to bits, at least its contents. what measly existence this girl had chosen to live. No, I best not. The noise would likely wake her. The woman continued her prowl. She saw the book. As always, it was marked to John Donne, the only one in there by him.
"Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all the past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil's foot,"
I'll tell you where all the past years are, Fey dear. They're here with me.................... just like you.

Get With Child a Mandrake Root

"That's odd," Fey thought to herself as she analyzed the book she'd lost just a night earlier. Every page was there, Fey knew that. She had held the book so many times on so many days that she knew it was all there.
"Where could this have come from I wonder?" Fey placed her keys and bag on the table and walked over to the pillow she used as a type of couch, Finicky came over and laid his head on her lap affectionately.
"There's no way it was there when we left this morning, but there's also no way someone would, or could have known it was mine." Fey looked quizzically at the book again wondering how this could be.
Not that she was upset, quite the opposite. She had no memories of her life before three years ago. The first day she remembered she had woken up in a hospital bed and been told that who she was didn't matter, there was no past for her to go back to or try to resurrect. They had given her money, they said it was her "inheritance", but Fey had never really believed them. And this book. They had said that when she had been brought in, she had made them swear to return the book to her, it was extremely important.
Fey Mandrake wasn't even her real name. In the hospital, the nurses had told her that she acted as a fey child would, so she took the name Fey. As she flipped through the collection of poems, one by John Donne caught her eye especially as it seemed to relate to the fey child and a missing past, and from that Fey Mandrake was born.

Closing Time

Fey finally seemed to come out of her daze. She shook her head, what had she been thinking? She had noticed that her moments of spacing had been getting more and more frequent. Maybe I'm getting tired and should take a few days off? Fey looked at the many new candles cooling under the glass on her counter. Some of them quite pretty and complex with a second layer of different coloured wax in a spiral down it, perfect for combination magic. She had spaced out the previous day and made these. As she picked up a white and green one, Fey had a somewhat fuzzy memory of seeing an elderly lady earlier in the previous day. She'd seemed so sad, no more alone and in need of a friend. If I saw her, why didn't I invite her in, especially since it has been so cold lately. That's not like me at all. This thought worried Fey, though she didn't know why.
Patpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpat The sound of a fresh batch of hail brought Fey out of her thoughts. The sun was setting and Fey wanted to go home now. Because of the terrible weather, Fey had left Finicky at home, and without Finicky, Fey didn't even want to risk walking in the dark. She locked the door and opened her umbrella, no real help, but it offered comfort. As Fey walked down the road, she saw a large black van, without any sort of markings, make a turn down Baker St.. It reminded her of something, but what? Something somewhere in Fey's mind whispered remember, remember me, ever so faintly, but she still heard it. Fey's heart skipped a beat, could she finally be remembering? was the past returning? but try as she may, Fey couldn't get the voice to return, nor could she remember what the van reminded her of. Somewhere Fey heard a police siren in the nearby distance in both the city and her mind, what was happening?

And out of door hath showers, and mists, and sleet....

Bang! The branch smacking against the window outside startled Fey back into her reality. She had been sitting quietly thinking about nothing, staring would be the more appropriate term she supposed. The day, overcast as usual, hadn't really yielded much interesting events. She'd had a couple of customers in, one came in during a particularly satisfying stare and hadn't known (or wanted to say) what it was that she truely wanted, but Fey had placed her on the right path; although, she wasn't sure the path would lead where she wanted. Fey cocked her head towards the side, Maybe I should have left her be and not given what she wanted. In general, Fey's philosophy was live and let live, but sometimes she couldn't remember the Taoist ideals and "go with the flow".

Finicky walked back into the shop.
"Where had you got to? You know you shouldn't be out late with that woman about." Finicky just smiled at her.
"Looks like it's getting a bit dark, we should start heading back to the apartment, ok?" Fey got up and went about her normal motions of closing shop. When she reached the door, she checked her bag to make sure everything was secure in there, she'd spent most of her lunch checking for her poetry book, but couldn't find it or anyone who had seen it. Not even the young boy that she'd see periodically in the area had been able to tell her what may have happened to it.

Walking down the street, Fey periodically would have to hold her long hair down from the random gusts of wind, she disliked the wind at times like these when all it did was redden her cheeks, muss her hair, and make her cold. Finally, the pair reached the building and went inside. Fey had been planning to go straight home, but the lure of the elevator proved too much. She got in and pressed 7, a button she'd only pressed once before. The ride started. At one point the doors opened and Fey saw a lady, dressed questionably-not in fashion but occupation-looked into the elevator, made a face and went down the hall to the staird, Fey didn't think she had seen her, but only the other person. Fey stayed on the elevator for a few more floors. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor, and Fey and Finicky went back to their room and Fey almost tripped over something while walking in, a small bag with something in it. Upon opening the bag, Fey found a book of poetry with a part of Byran's poem Don Juan underlined:

An in-door life is less poetical;

     And out of door hath showers, and mists,
        and sleet,
With which I could not brew a pastoral.
   But be it as it may, a bard must meet
All difficulties, whether great or small,
   To spoil his undertaking or complete,
And work away like spirit upon matter,
Embarrass'd somewhat both with fire and water.

This is the Way the World Ends......

It was dark out. Fey hated the dark. How could anyone trust something that concealed dangers. Evil. That was the word Fey used to describe the dark. It was the only thing that Fey felt truly deserved the word. Closing the curtains and turning away from the window that led to a seemingly unending blackness and to the room that flooded her with light, she sighed.

"Fey, don't you see there's nothing out there to hurt you? The dark is no different from the light. What are you going to do when you must live out on your own?" Fey hadn't known what to say, she could only look at her mother silently.
"As usual, you just stand there silent. Waiting. What are you waiting on?" Why did mother insist on always asking the questions that Fey had no way of answering? She had gotten better. Since finding Finicky, Fey had been able to sleep without a night light and withstand the dark inside rooms. There she knew she wasn't alone. It was late. Fey was tired, so she called Finicky over and went to bed.

*************

Pit...pat...pit...pat..pat..pat.pat.pat.patpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpat. That was the sound Fey seemed to wake up to most mornings here in Washington Heights. Not that she disliked the rain. Really it was a good part of the world. Fey just wished that the sun would make a consistant appearence in Washington Heights more often then not. Finicky whinned beside Fey and went over to the door frame of the bedroom to scratch at it.
"I'm comin' Finiy, don't worry, I won't make you hold it in. Even on a rainy day." Fey laughed at Finicky. Whenever he had to go out and they were in the apartment he seemed to act like he was asking for some great favor.

Fey walked to the coat rack, Finicky by her side, and put on a coat, grabbed an umbrella, and stuffed her crotched hat into her bag along with a plastic bag.
"Let's be off!" She opend the door, and the pair went out.

Fey and Finicky turned into the vacant lot and walked to the far corner of it. While Finicky did his business, Fey politely looked elsewhere. It was then she noticed the stand in the lot had been reopend. Once Finicky had finished, Fey was pleased to find there would be no need for the bag and began to walk back to the side walk. The reason for the use of the vacant lot as apposed to the park was simple. there were so few nice areas in Washington Heights Fey figured Finicky could use one of the least pleasant parts and leave one of the nicest ones unspoiled, atleast by himself.

Reaching the sidewalk, Fey decided to go out for some coffee. The rain wasn't that bad after all, and she had her umbrella jauntily held above her head. Walking past the now unvacated stand, Fey was struck. Not physically, but with the sight of a great bird perched on a shelf. It wasn't alive, Fey could see that, but the state it was in wasn't natural. From the earth it came, and to the earth it should have returned, all of it, for the next generation. Fey suddenly became aware of a small, strange woman looking back at her. Averting her eyes, Fey hurried herself and Finicky down the street towards the traffic light.
Deep breaths Fey, deep breaths. Everyone has a reason. It is just her being herself, you are not the one to judge, or you will be judged. Despite her attempt to calm down and just accept the woman as she'd accepted everyone else, a cold chill went down her spine as she thought back to that bird.

The Hollow Men

Fey sat on her stool behind the counter that had the cash register facing her. Her shop, The Wrath, was lit and warmed by the help of a small space heater. The overhead lights were hanging ones with metal bowl-looking coverings that cast the light under where they were in round pools upon the floor. There were two lava lamp lights around the world too. One purple and red, and one green and blue. Her shop was simple, small, two stories. The front room was where the shop was. In it there was shelving unit near the door. It held crystal ball stands, candle holders, incense burners (metal, wood, hanging, stick, cone), both harmless incense and harmless candles. These things were, in Fey's opinion, safe to let someone steal, it was the contents in the glass counters that lined two walls, and the one that prevented people from going to the back room without her that needed to be guarded. In these cases she kept articles of the curio and the occult, all made for good magic, but, like people, these things could be corrupted. The cases held tarot cards, candles and incense specific for certain spells, certain herbs (some of which were poisonous), athames, crystal balls, and various other objects with which one could do harm with.
While Fey wasn't particularly busy at any point in time, she did have some loyal customers who came by, some from Washington Heights, others from other towns. They came for her handmade soaps, incense, and candles. Many-a-day Fey would sit with a small portable oven heating wax to make candles, making soap, or crushing and mixing various herbs and spices for her incense. Rolling the cone incense in her hand, Fey felt at peace. This small simple job, it was amazing how centering it was. All day, this is what she did. Today she was making daimiana incense. If people were going to try to get high, they might as well do so on a legal herb that wasn't quite as powerful as the elusive Mary Jane. Besides, you would have to burn a lot of incense to get high off of daimiana in the incense form. That was just how it was. Not that fey judged people who smoked daimiana, or tried to use the incense for their own purposes. She herself burnt the incense, but only in order to relax. It was a wonderful relaxant.

In, out, in, out all day long. Not a lot of people, but a few. At one point, an inibriated man stumbled into the shop. He looked around and approached the counter. Fey had just lit a cone of daimiana incense. The man looked at her.
"I need to find mmgmgmmm.."
"Sorry, I couldn't catch that last bit of what you said."
"I need to find someone." Just like that. The polite smile Fey had carefully been supporting faded, like everything else. Her world went black.

Fey woke up in the back room of the shop. When she sat up Finicky ran over to her from where he had been lying. Fey pet him and rubbed her head.
"oh dear. It has been a while since a black out like that." They used to happen more frequently Fey reminised. Originally she had thought that they were caused by some sort of health issue; however, she'd realized eventually that the memories lost were very person specific, so Fey just assumed what ever happend didn't effect her and therefor had no reason to know what happend.
She blew the candle next to her out.
"Come on Finicky, time to close shop." Fey and Finicky went to the front. Looking down at the counter, she saw a ten dollar bill on the counter. She picked it up. Getting her bag, Fey and Finicky walked to the door. She stopped. Frozen. It was dark. Fey's heart filled with terror and she began to panic within her mind. What should I do? Maybe I could stay here tonight. Finicky whined beside Fey, beckoning her to the darkness beyond. He wants to be fed. We have no food here! Fey knew that she had to go back to the appartment, she didn't want to cause the poor animal pain, lord knew he'd sufferd enough before she'd found him.
"O.k Finiy, we'll go home, but you have to hurry you know." She took a deep breath. When she reached the door, she prepared as much as she could. She opened the door and locked it so that when she closed it it couldn't be opened again. One foot in, one foot out Fey reached for the light switch. Making sure that Finicky was outside she flicked the switch and stood for a moment in complete darkness. Her heart sped up. She shut the door tight and ran. Down the street. It was just a short distance and she walked it every day. But here, now, it seemed the greatest distance in the world. She reached the corner and turned to the left. There were the doors. Something fell out of her bag, but that didn't matter. Right now she had to outrun the blackness that surrounded her. She held the door open for Finicky and ran into the dimly lit lobby. Beyond the lobby was her hall. At her door she calmed slightly, pulled her keys out and opened the door. SLAM!!!! Fey quickly locked the door and slid down to the floor with her back to the door. Finicky came up and licked her face, sweetly reminding her as to why they had to come home.
"O.k, o.k let's eat." As she walked to the kitchen, still upset, Fey looked into her bag. Her book of poetry had fallen out. She had been collecting poetry in it for over three years. The loss of the book was as if a friend had died, but it was gone. Here at Washington Heights what got lost stayed lost.

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie

Fey stood in front of the freezers in Manny's Grocery Store. She'd already gotten the dog food, carrots, apples, some beef and beans to make chili, three potatoes, and some sugar cookies. All that was left was to get the milk and tea. She reached out and grabbed the skim milk carton closest to her and placed it in her basket. Walking towards the aisle the tea was on, she heard a loud crash. Upon reaching the aisle, she saw a woman pushing her cart down the aisle quickly and a young clerk picking up the coffee cans that now littered the floor. She'd recognized that woman. She was the one who always got off on the 5th floor, she remembered because she'd tried to keep her eyes averted from Fey's presence nearly as much as Fey did to hers.
Fey's attention was brought back to the mess in front of her by the mutterings of the clerk.
"I can't believe she just left this for me to pick up. Bitch."
"Here let me help you," Fey said bending down.
"Thanks, they're supposed to be stacked in a pyramid." The pair was finished picking up the mess in a matter of minutes.
"Thank you again, I just don't get why some people feel that they can just leave their own messes to others to clean up."
"I'm sure she has a good reason for rushing off. Maybe she'd left something on the oven." Fey was hoping that by suggesting that she had a good reason to rush off the clerk's aura would lighten and her less than understanding words wouldn't come back to haunt her. No luck.
"Maybe, but more than likely she's just a self-centered cow." With that the clerk walked off.
On her journey home, Fey thought over the clerk and wondered why people could think such mean thoughts about others without knowing the whole story. It was one of the problems of the world. Ever since Fey had decided that most world problems were attributed to people not being understanding, or even trying to be, she had done her best to only think positively of others. Fey knew that there had to be a reason bad things happened, and that Karma did exist. It had to. Just like fate. It was meant to happen. She was meant to find apartment 81 in Washington Heights and Finicky.
Back at the building. Fey had deposited the groceries and gotten Finicky. She had planned to go straight to her shop to open after lunch, but decided to take a ride on the elevator first. Going up the elevator another person got on. He was thin, looked under-nourished and tired. He looked at her with such a calculating stare that Fey had to look away. Fey didn't even wait to see which floor he got out on or if he was even going up or down. The next floor that the doors opened on to admit someone into the elevator Fey got off on with Finicky. Deciding she had better go open up, Fey chose to use the stairs. Outside the building Fey turned right and walked past a small fenced in area. When she reached her shop, The Wrath, she paused, as did Finicky, and, before opening the door and going in, looked to both sides, not because she was scared, she had no reason to be. The Sun was still up.

Oh the Places You'll Go!!!!

Fey Mandrake didn't live on the 5th floor. As she the elevator doors of the 5th floor slid shut, Fey looked at the buttons of the elevator, each one leading the small metal box that smelled mildly of alcohol to a new floor. It was then she became aware that some one was talking to her.
"Are you going up?" The man who'd asked her was tall, taller then her at any rate. She noted he'd pressed the button for the 8th floor.
"Oh, yes! The 10th floor please, thank you." Fey flashed him her quick little smile she'd mastered through years of practice, then went back to looking ahead of her in silence. The elevator reached the 8th floor, the doors opened, and the man stepped out. The doors shut, went up two more floors, stopped again, the doors opened, but Fey didn't move. The doors shut again. Fey reached forward and pressed a button. She had lied. She didn't live on the 10th floor, she lived on the first, apartment number 81, her favourite number. a square of the square of 3, a sacred number and oh so perfect number. However, when not at her apartment or shop, the elevator was one of Fey's favourite places to be. Not because she liked enclosed spaces, she didn't. No, it was because every time the elevator doors opened she was in a different and (relatively) new place. Also, with the building being so big and many residence, with every ride Fey was likely to see someone new, she never met anyone she saw, but she saw them and that was enough. Fey liked people, that's why she owned and ran a shop next door to the diner and, although the shop was two stories, chose to live in Washington Heights. While it was more of a financial stretch for her, the day she had looked into living in the apartments the first one shown to her was 81. Fey knew it was a sign. She had to live in that apartment. She just knew that by living in apartment #81 she would one day meet someone important, it was fate, why else would apartment 81 be open in the building next door to her shop?
Fey approached the door, her patchwork dress just barely touching the floor. She should hem it. She wasn't very tall, but she wasn't short either. She had long wavy hair that formed natural loose rings towards the bottom. Both her hair and eyes were brown. While she had a shapely figure, she spent most of her time wearing jackets or sweaters to cover most of her figure up. She looked down both sides of the hall before she opened her door. Not due to the crime rate, more to see if anyone was in the hall. She ducked inside, no one to see today, oh well. Fey was sure she'd meet whoever it was outside her door, although, being very shy, she wasn't sure how she'd do so. She barely managed to talk to people long enough to sell things in her shop.
Her apartment was small, but livable. There was a bathroom, a kitchenette that was connected to a living room type space, one closet, and a very small bedroom. The only door in the whole apartment was the front door. The other doorways had hanging beads in them, except that to the bathroom. That doorway was covered by two pieces of fabric. She made her way to the bedroom, which consisted of a mattress, a light, and Finicky. Finicky was one of life's good parts that Karma had been kind enough to make pass Fey's path. She had found Finicky one day while looking around the graveyard. The poor dog was half starved, probably a family pet that had gotten lost and never looked for. She called him Finicky because when he'd first come to live with Fey, that's exactly what he was. He was the only man in her life, and they were happy. Every morning they went to The Wrath and opened it. They stayed there most the day, and around 6:30 closed and returned home. Fey wasn't sure what type of dog Finicky was, but that didn't matter, he was a good dog, and cared for her as much as she cared for him.
"No new exciting people today Finiy. C'est la vie. Come on boy, lets have some dinner."
"Arf!arf!" With a couple of barks of agreement from Finicky, they made their way into the kitchenette to eat.