[h2][center][color=lightpink]Aphrodite[/color] & Eleanor[/center][/h2] [center][hider=Aphrodite][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1b/c3/94/1bc3940a8a24d36308e9b2bf5f3f4d78.jpg[/img][/hider] [hider=Eleanor][img] http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/053/6/9/blind_by_hobbittiponi-d5vt52s.jpg[/img][/hider][/center] Tucked into a corner of London stands a copper haired girl, barefoot in a stained sundress, knees bent as if to take in a large breath of air and left hand dangling, holding an expired bottle of pills between grimy fingertips. Though she herself was unkempt, dirt underneath chipped fingernails and wild mane in knots, the alleyway she stood in was immaculate, though a light dusting of dirt covered the area, a stark contrast to what it had been when she first stepped foot into it a year ago. Surrounding her body were wilting flowers, anemones once a myriad of colours, dying tulips attempting to soak in the rare sunlight of a London day. Even a teddy bear was placed in front of her delicate feet, as if an offering to the girl frozen in time, yet it was transparently obvious that the stuffed animal was not newly placed; its ears were still damp from rain and paws caked with dried mud. It had been laying on the pavement for a long time. The street urchin with freckled cheeks and a dirty mouth had been turned into some sort of altar for the homeless, a patron saint to the unfortunate. Destitute little children with sticky hands and wide eyes played ring around the rosie around her and beggar women pressed pennies into their palms before her, wishing for Lady Luck to smile down upon them, but they soon stopped their pilgrimages when the girl showed no signs of waking, and refused allowance for their children to play there as well. Men did not usually visit the macabre sight; once, months ago, an old man had sat by her side every day, but soon, even his visits began to dwindle. The beggar women assumed he had died - they could think of nothing else that would force the elder whom had so vehemently denied giving up on the girl, but the children, frank as they were, simply believed he had given up hope. "Mommy, is she ever gonna wake up?" A little girl poked her mother's side and pointed at the statue of a woman. She often came to the narrow alleyway with her daughter to think. It had once been swamped with curious eyes, but now it was generally vacant - no one came around any more. "I don't know, darling." The woman replied, counting the pennies in her lap absently. She would soon have enough to buy her daughter a new pair of shoes if she saved wisely. "I'm going to make her wake up!" The daughter declared. "You do that, sweetheart." With a determined look on her baby cheeked face the girl hopped away from her mother and began jumping up and down in front of the frozen woman's unmoving eyes, waving her arms frantically. "Wake up, wake up!" The little girl screeched, "Mummy says I shouldn't sleep so long and that it's bad for me so it must be bad for you too!" Miraculously, ironically, at that exact moment the bottle of pills slipped between the woman's fingers and hit the pavement, her knees following a second later. The little girl's eyes bugged and she opened her mouth. "MUMMY - " "Oh, God," Eleanor moaned, her voice raspy as she covered her ears against the shrill sound. "Please don't yell. It hurts." But it wasn't just her head that hurt - the migraine forming between her eyes was only the tip of the iceberg. Her knees felt like she had been shot in both of them and her slim fingers cramped something fierce - she had never known such pain in her life. It felt like she had been unconscious for weeks. Eleanor had never been sick in her life; had she suddenly been struck by something that had been hiding in her immune system for years? A heart attack, stroke? She tried to swallow. It felt as if her throat was lined with sandpaper. Then - the old man. Her heart jumped into her throat and Eleanor struggled to stand, pushing herself up on wobbly arms. "I've got to go - " "Please stay," Another voice, this one older, warmer - must be the little girl's mother, Eleanor surmised, "You've just woken up, you've been asleep for so long - " "How long?" Eleanor interrupted, unadulterated fear engulfing her. If she wasn't there to take care of the old man, who would? He couldn't have lived on his own, he just couldn't. He was so weak, so frail - "Maybe a year, I think." The other woman responded hesitantly. "A year?" "I know it sounds impossible - " "It sounds like bullshit!" "Just let us help you!" The other woman's voice was firmer than it had been, a motherly tone that she had obviously perfected with her rambunctuous daughter. Eleanor cursed, but, feeling herself wobbly on unsteady limbs, acquiesced to the woman's plea. She was in no state to walk, much less go searching for her old man. She allowed herself to be lowered onto the woman's ragged blanket and was close to succumbing to sleep when something soft and small was pressed into her cheek. "This - it's your teddy." A timid voice said. Eleanor's lips curled upwards and her breath evened out. __ [color=lightpink]"The beautiful do not rest in alleyways with vagabond women and mendicant children."[/color] "I'm not too concerned with beauty. You shouldn't be either." [color=lightpink]"You are awfully self-assured for such a homely girl."[/color] "I wouldn't know. I don't know what I look like." A pause. [color=lightpink]"Your eyes. They don't work."[/color] "No. They never have. I've never needed them to."