Erin came to the cemetery to meditate. It would seem weird, sure, for anyone not in her position, but her meditation was just a little different. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as she approached the gates. Her purple peacoat was unbuttoned, hands in her pockets at her sides. She had on a knee length skirt, and a well worn green teeshirt. It was late and a little cold, so there was a green and white scarf wound around her neck. Her messenger bag was secured across her chest, the bag itself resting on her left hip.

They were tall iron, covered in ivy. It wasn't ivy that had been planted there in hopes of covering up the rust of the gates, no, it was ivy that had just sprung from the ground and wildly covered the fence, the large concrete pillars that held it and the fence that seemed to wind itself around the sprawling cemetery. Erin's feet crunched on the dried out ground. Mud from the last rain had dried into a pattern of cracks and crevices that resembled the desert floor. The moon was shining bright enough, and there was light spilling over the stones casting hard shadows as Erin walked.

The best place for this particular kind of meditation was located all the way in the back of the cemetery where the stones had no names. In places where loved ones were well cared for with flowers and constant visits— this was less effective. No, no, it was all the way in the back where the forgotten people and their forgotten souls rested that always was the easiest place to see what Erin wanted to see.

Making her way back there, she settled on the bench that was also the grave of some rich banker from some time well before she was even born, let alone in Rhydin. And she closed her eyes.

Focus. That was the hardest part. To breath and let the air flow through herself, feeling every molecule. The slight pang in her chest from all the smoking she done over the years, the tingle in her toes from her too small shoes, the feel of the cold bench on her legs through her skirt, the breeze on the back of her neck and the slight stirring of her hair. Erin focused on a flame. A single flame. It flickered with her breath. In. Out. In. Out. She watched it flicker and thought of nothing. Everything was the flame. She was part of the flame.

Passion. This part was easy. She drudged up anger, pain, betrayal. She took it all from where it sat in her stomach rotting her and she welled it up. Pushed it together into a color— into red. And the red filled her vision, ate the flame, the calm. Her hands got hot, her face reddned and she was ready for the rest.

Push out side of yourself. And like a ripple in water her consciousness opened up, pushed out, expanded. She broke some unknown barrier. Couldn't even feel it anymore....it was just slammed through and once she knew that it was all over.

She opened her eyes.

It was no surprise all the spirits in her vision now. She was used to them appearing at the end of this excersize. They were there with all their pain, anger, hurt...with things uresolved for them' It was no wonder they were stuck, unable to move on. There were so many, too many. Man, woman, child, adult, elderly....it didn't matter.

There was a man and woman, simply dressed. A couple perhaps" They were seated, simply waiting. Their visage held faint hope, but it was hope nonetheless; there was an elderly gentleman, dressed quite well. Bold colors and jackets and well fitted breeches. On his knees, he looked to be silently weeping, shaking his head as his face was buried in his hands; there was a rather rough looking woman, scowling, rocking back and forth as her arms wrapped about herself, occasionally gnawing on her lower lip; there was a rather beautiful woman, standing before a tombstone with a rather forlorn expression on her face. Blonde hair fell past her shoulders, caressing the purple fabric she wore. Brown eyes were unmoving, unblinking as she simply...stared off towards nothing.

It was them, and many more, that dotted and littered the cemetary now, just slightly out of focus, trapped in their own world, unable to do anything for others, unable to do anything for themselves.

Erin had to keep her focus if she wanted to see them. And this is where the meditation came in. She was able to keep it for minutes now. Sometimes nearly a half hour. Her breathing was regular, her eyes glowing a faint purple as she stared into the world she could not yet enter. Watching, waiting...she wasn't sure what she was looking for, but the exercise itself calmed her. Kept her centered. And she watched as long as her mind would let her.

The hazy spirits about maintained their activities, which wasn't much other than waiting. They didn't speak, they didn't move about much, they simply kept on with what they were doing. Perhaps some had done it for days. Others" Weeks, maybe months, and surely some had to have been there for years....They yearned for some sort of comfort and closure, yet were never able to obtain it.

One did move and act however, even if just a little. The purple clad blonde. Her lips parted, perhaps in a sigh, perhaps to speak, but no sound came from her. Not in the realm of the living at least. Slowly, she settled down to her knees, forlorn expression lowering to the stone in front of her, but she didn't seem to see it. Not really. Not the letters carved there, nor the faded purple ribbon tied about the stone, just above some wilting flowers below it.

Violets, to be exact.

Erin was struck by her, all clad in the same color, so haunted, with that strange resemblance to....and so she blinked. And it all was gone. It was nothing but an empty moonlit cemetery once more. With a sigh, she stood up to take a look at the stone with the purple ribbon tied around it. Just out of curiosity, really.

Erin gasped.

Her mouth hung open for a moment as she tried to get her mind around it. Then she shook her head and looked again. Delicate fingers ran over the carefully carved letters there.

"Oh no..." And without another word, Erin turned and hurried from the cemetery. She had some thinking to do.