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With four sequential sharp, matching cracks, her nails pierced the red skin of the chilly apple. A belated fifth nail made it sound remarkably like gunshots, emanating from where Alethea sat, waiting for her cousin to return from her checkup. As if the medicine Malifer was taking was helping with her- her delusions. Alethea's cousin had always been insane, and all of her prior experiences only backed up the blind girl's conviction.

She sat on a small couch, letting her heels brush against the violin case. The silk of her baby blue, Victorian-esque dress rustled against the soft cotton of her seat. She raised the apple to her mouth and took a bite, then turned to face down the hallway. Footsteps had been approaching from that direction, and Alethea was curious to hear who it was.

There were definately two sets of footsteps. But, as far as she could tell, there was no accompanying swish of clothing for the second set. Nor was there a clank of armor, as some inmates insisted on wearing. In fact, unless the second set of footsteps was nude, she was hearing things. She heaved a sigh and stood, lifting her violin case with her. "Who's there?" she said, her voice rather melancholy. The tenor of her voice matched her appearance, that of an angel, albeit an angel with extremely short hair. "Please identify yourself, it's only polite."

"Stop what?" She tilted her head the barest bit, shifting just slightly. Oh, how she wished for her sight, especially in situations like this. Her face settled into a frown. "I don't think I'm doing anything offensive," Alethea continued, brushing her hand across her top and making sure it was all in place. The ribbons weren't twisted, the fabric wasn't bunched, but... "If you're worried about me being violent, don't worry. I'm not an inpatient here, but my cousin soon will be. I'm here as her... escort."

"There's no one there," Alethea said, her voice holding a tone of finality. "At least, not that I can see... though I can't really see anything." Her fingers- the onces not ensconced in her apple- drifted to near-invisible scars on and across her misted green eyes. "Although I can't hear your mister Fowler, either. Perhaps I am going deaf." It was entirely possible, knowing her horrid luck.

Alethea smiled, though it was slightly more of a grimace. Obviously this girl was one of the poor people stuck in here. Maybe she'd become friends with Malifer, she though sardonically. "And you as well, Miss Lewis. My name is Alethea Parris," she said in response, almost automatically. She dropped a nearly-perfect one-handed curtsy, her other hand being full of red apple.

A redhead appeared over Alethea's shoulder. "Cousin Aleth," Malifer said, her own delusion shadowing her. "We're almost set to go." The teenager was dressed in black pants and a white blouse, her hair cropped almost shorter than her cousin's, though it had a rat-tail in the back that reached to the small of her back. "Quell and I will meet you back here, don't you dare move. Dad would kill me if I lost you. You know you're his wet dream." Her face ripped into a sneer as she brushed past Charity; Quell remained behind, having run into Fowler.

"Hello there," he said pleasantly to Charity. "Nice to see there are others with a decent sense of fashion." The blonde hallucination straightened his cassock and continued on his way, leaving the original three alone.

Alethea didn't seem to have noticed anything, even though Quell had also run into her.

Alethea nodded. "She's not exactly the nicest person I know," she said dryly. "When her father took me in, she wasn't so very happy. We have to share a room, you see." She paused, taking a conservative bite of her apple. If she had not been blind, she would have seemed to be studying Charity. "So... what kind of things do you like to do?" Her voice was more hesitant now.

Her smile drifted back, much truer. "Oh, really? What do you like to read, Charity? I mostly play music, but I've been reading a lot of a story called Angel Sanctuary. It's very good, if slightly melodramatic." Alethea resettled her skirt. "Have you read Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer? It's..." Here she hesitated, looking around as if for Malifer. "...it's a vampire story," she admitted. Her pale cheeks blushed a pale pink. Her uncle didn't really like romance novels, and Twilight was through-and-through a dark romance story.

She tilted her head. "I've never read about him," she said in great curiousity. "I guess I'll just have to hope they have a copy in Braille somewhere." Alethea smiled, just barely a little wider than before. "Do you like music?"