The social worker held tightly to the young girl's hand. "So you will get off of this ferry, and we will go to your new home." The dark-skinned woman pulled the small girl up beside of her, "Your uncle has agreed to take you under his legal care, at least until your mother is located." The woman was talking to the small, regally dressed child, but it was like talking to a wall.
The girl did not want to go to this... uncle. What if he was mean? What if he hurt her, like those other families had? She had the scars. Both mentally and physically. She simply stared at her feet as the boat continued toward her new home — Manta Carlos. That was what Mrs. Happy had called this place.
As the ferry docked, the social worker helped the child down — they had been told that she would need nothing more than the clothes upon her back and a toy; though it was not like she had any toys. Red eyes study the social worker thoughtfully, before the girl spoke out, "Will he be nice to me?" She inquired, her voice quiet, soft, and afraid.
She was taught not to speak unless spoken too — speaking out of turn had often gotten her hit. She pursed her lips for a moment or two and then she tipped her head back to study the woman again, as she spoke. "I think he will be nice. He seemed to be quite surprised, though."
The little girl stared down at her shoes as she walked off the ferry and onto dry land. "He did buy you this outfit, Cybil." The woman reminded the young girl, who nodded softly. "I know. And it is so pretty." Mrs. Happy chuckled and smiled down at the strange girl.
She caught sight of a horse-drawn carriage for tours around the city and inquired, "Would you like to take a tour? Before going to your uncle's home?" The child's dull ruby orbs peered toward the carriage with some show of excitement, and she breathed, "Yes... Yes."
Cybil and her social worker paid the fee for the tour — and for the next hour and a half they were taken through the city, shown many historical sites — many of these were houses with histories. And then, Mrs. Happy asked the carriage driver if he would mind dropping them off at a specific location — and upon his agreement, gave him the extra pay and the address.
"Look at this play, Cybil!" The woman exclaimed, as she helped the small girl down from the carriage. "Goodness." Compared to the trailers that Cybil had lived in all of her life, the manor was exquisite — it was like another world! Mrs. Happy had never seen many lovely mansions like this, however; she worked with children who almost always never left the care of the state... except this one had. And she was glad.
Cybil studied her new home, before she allowed Mrs. Happy to start forward. The social worker was quick to knock on the door, and the child had once again resumed staring at her feet. "Stand up straight, now, Cybil." The woman murmured, watching as the girl stood properly, hands clasped behind of her back, gaze firmly on her feet.
@Tom Marvolo Riddle
The girl did not want to go to this... uncle. What if he was mean? What if he hurt her, like those other families had? She had the scars. Both mentally and physically. She simply stared at her feet as the boat continued toward her new home — Manta Carlos. That was what Mrs. Happy had called this place.
As the ferry docked, the social worker helped the child down — they had been told that she would need nothing more than the clothes upon her back and a toy; though it was not like she had any toys. Red eyes study the social worker thoughtfully, before the girl spoke out, "Will he be nice to me?" She inquired, her voice quiet, soft, and afraid.
She was taught not to speak unless spoken too — speaking out of turn had often gotten her hit. She pursed her lips for a moment or two and then she tipped her head back to study the woman again, as she spoke. "I think he will be nice. He seemed to be quite surprised, though."
The little girl stared down at her shoes as she walked off the ferry and onto dry land. "He did buy you this outfit, Cybil." The woman reminded the young girl, who nodded softly. "I know. And it is so pretty." Mrs. Happy chuckled and smiled down at the strange girl.
She caught sight of a horse-drawn carriage for tours around the city and inquired, "Would you like to take a tour? Before going to your uncle's home?" The child's dull ruby orbs peered toward the carriage with some show of excitement, and she breathed, "Yes... Yes."
Cybil and her social worker paid the fee for the tour — and for the next hour and a half they were taken through the city, shown many historical sites — many of these were houses with histories. And then, Mrs. Happy asked the carriage driver if he would mind dropping them off at a specific location — and upon his agreement, gave him the extra pay and the address.
"Look at this play, Cybil!" The woman exclaimed, as she helped the small girl down from the carriage. "Goodness." Compared to the trailers that Cybil had lived in all of her life, the manor was exquisite — it was like another world! Mrs. Happy had never seen many lovely mansions like this, however; she worked with children who almost always never left the care of the state... except this one had. And she was glad.
Cybil studied her new home, before she allowed Mrs. Happy to start forward. The social worker was quick to knock on the door, and the child had once again resumed staring at her feet. "Stand up straight, now, Cybil." The woman murmured, watching as the girl stood properly, hands clasped behind of her back, gaze firmly on her feet.
@Tom Marvolo Riddle
