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It had been curiosity that had brought Partridge to the cemetery. He had heard of its beautiful statues and, being an artist, though only a painter, had lead him to the local cemetery one dreary October night. Jacket zipped, camera stored and sketchbook put in his bag Partridge had set off on his electric scooter an hour before sunset, excited to take pictures of the statues, get some ideas for some paintings hopefully. He parked his scooter just outside the cemetery, where he immediatley noticed a statue of a woman, beautiful in her solemn duty of watcher of the dead. He was for sure going to get some good ideas for this! He made his way through the cemetery, taking pictures of graves, while also getting terrific angles of the beautiful statues, the mostly in tact ones, in the light of the setting sun, and to him it seemed as if they turned there heads just so, as if to make themselves prepared for the shot, or to avoid the piercing light of the evening sun. He was talking about statues though so that couldn't be possible!...though he was getting ideas for work if it pissed him off again (he was petty, forgive him, he was a former homeless man given power and a task, of COURSE hes entitled to power trip occasionally, that and he didn't get the promotion, again.) He went further into the cemetery, noticing the destroyed state of some of the statues, the rubble of little imps, the horrifying, yet devastatingly handsome man on his side, who Partridge had turned away from for just a few seconds to observe another statues, only to turn around and its partially destroyed face was looking right at him, had it always been? Partridge wasn't very sure anymore. He picked up some statue, a small one, at least the tiny bits, of a small demon creature. "Did someone who disliked demonic imagery destroy these?" He wondered aloud, not expecting an answer, though he could swear he heard the shift of stone on stone. Okay, this place was becoming a bit too eery for him, especially as the sun set and the moon began to appear visible in the night sky. Of course...the darkened sky and light of the moon did make this another prime opportunity to get some more photos in for later reference. "The pains of being an artist." He said to himself, not particularly bothered since, despite their state these were very beautiful statues, Especially the woman from earlier, which he could still see, as if she was maybe a foot away...oh wait, she was!? He blinked, as if trying to process what he maybe saw, and in the next second, she seemingly was gone, back to her solemn watch. "So, I think I have enough reference then?" Yeah, and he was definitely getting out of there, Nervously, Partridge put his things away, then , constantly looking at the statues, he made his way to the entrance of the cemetery, only looking away once he was back at his scooter. He sighed in relief, putting his things away in the seat storage, then hopped on and started his scooter, but not before he looked back one more time, the statues of both women seeming to look directly at him, waving, but he blinked again, and they were not. Yeah, he wouldnt be coming back here very often, beautiful statues or not.