Lost Carcosa

[Luned]

Lost Carcosa

Closed to Olive
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It is 1943 and the world is caught up in the conflict of World War II. Carcosa is a territory of the United States, a small island off the coast of the Canadian Maritimes and New England, and remains fairly isolated and self-sufficient. It is largely inhabited by fishermen, farmers, and craftspeople, and has but one small city by the same name.

Carcosa's reputation is akin to the Bermuda Triangle of the North Atlantic. It's considered a bad luck place to live by most and has little to no tourist appeal. There are rumors of the strange, unusual, and paranormal, but nothing has been confirmed. Residents are superstitious and diverse, its history long, dark, and complicated, as it was settled by many different peoples, yet no settlements lasted more than a century until recently. There has been evidence of an ancient native culture, but only very little... until now.

---

Twilight in August was a warm, misty thing, and a wooly fog crept across the city to embrace its quiet inhabitants. Carcosa was a peculiar place, new to this civilization but old and creaking under foot. Architecture was fairly modern with structures no more than half a century old, but it was interesting to see the new world meet something more ancient in the aged rubble of the borrowed foundations they built upon. These remnants of past cultures were telling of the island's bleak past, previously uninhabitable to the many tribes and explorers who aimed to call it their own. One couldn't dig a hole for a fence post without discovering an unmarked grave or some material testament to yet another failed settlement, but such a thing was so normal that no one considered it strange anymore. More educated locals knew that the sand and soil of the island was rust-red from a high concentration of iron, but legend explained it much more creatively: it was stained by a cursed thousand years of lost blood.

Outdated oil street lamps lit the end of the street and shone fuzzy in the haze, illuminating one of the more gentrified districts lined with mansion-like townhouses. They were perfectly symmetrical with red brick and white trim, meticulously maintained gardens with wrought iron gates greeting visitors out front. The Goulds lived at 47 Western Avenue, the one with both American and British flags on proudly display from a duet of poles over the front door.

Mr. Gould had been an entrepreneur in London. He and Mrs. Gould met young, married young, and to her delight, to great financial success. After several breathless years of extravagant living and socializing they were blessed with their first child, a cherubic delight they decided to call Charlotte after a particularly pesky great-aunt.

Mrs. Gould was about as good a mother as Charlotte's namesake was pleasant, however, and it was downhill from there. The child grew slowly and learned slowly, much to the embarrassment of her parents, and was soon excommunicated from their attention to the care of a nanny. In hushed receipt of experimental treatments for her frequent seizures, nothing notably effective except perhaps as forms of mild torture, Charlotte grew up to be of surprisingly good character. Though math was a struggle and language not much better, from the day she picked up a violin, she learned to speak with it instead.

At the dawn of the Second World War, Mr. Gould was given an opportunity to relocate. Though it was debatable that he did it out of the interest and safety of his family –– it was rumored Mrs. Gould threatened suicide when faced with separation from her friends and family –– they soon ended up in Carcosa, all three members in tact and not too much worse for wear.

Nannies were slim pickings in a place like that, however, and after multiple failed attempts to ship one over from home, Mrs. Gould conceded and hired a less-than-optimal candidate, the mysterious Miss Anna Smith. Much to her chagrin, Charlotte attached herself to the young woman immediately and showed a drastic improvement in demeanor.

Currently they were quickly approaching the first anniversary of Ania's service. Charlotte had been fixated on what kind of cake the occasion would require, having dubbed it the ever-important "Annie-versary", and had been almost impossible to contain since her mother had mentioned it casually in passing one week prior.

Today was worrying, however. Charlotte had been sullen when Anna brought her to music lessons, something which was usually the highlight of her week, and on their walk back she was abnormally quiet, even for someone of few words such as herself. For the entire six block walk her pale little hand was clenched securely around a fistful of the fabric of Ania's skirt, budging for nothing. At the gate of her house she hesitated, freckled lip trembling. Something was wrong.

[Olive]

"You know, Rajmund's been asking about you." Samuel, the broad shouldered young man sent a teasing look to his younger sister but his smirk fell at the amused snort he received in reply. It was true, Rajmund, the man in question wasn't quite the catch. He had no skills in life and oddly enough always seemed to smell like garlic, but Rajmund was Samuel's best friend so he had to at least try.

"Rajmund. Hah! I'd rather marry a horse." Ania turned up her rather prominent nose while tying her scarf securely under her chin, wanting to show off the beautiful carnations she had just finished embroidering onto it. "At least a horse is good for something."

"Ania, I'm about to become a father, I can't keep looking out for you and we're all tired of tip toeing around the subject." With his eyes staring intensely at anything but his sister, Samuel continued. "No one wants to say anything because we know how much you liked Wit, but he's dead and you're not. He would have wanted you to move on. I mean, it's been a year Ania."

Lips pressed lightly together, Ania pursed them to keep herself from saying anything she would regret, and she knew she had a lot to say, most of which would make her grandmother blush. Curse words aside, she was mostly upset that they had all been treating her differently since the accident and now she knew why. A look of stubborn defiance came over her face as she sucked in a sharp breath.

"I see. Well your concern is noted but you can go -

"Everyone!" Her harsh speech was cut short as her father arrived on horseback, his thin frame bouncing as the mare came to a halt and he carefully lowered himself to the ground. "Everyone pack up anything important, we're leaving tonight."

Moving at the drop of a hat wasn't odd for her family and friends, or any other romani that she knew of, but there was something about the way her father was nervously wringing his hands together that frightened her. Despite being smaller in stature than his wife and even half of his children, their father was the bravest man they knew, but slowly over the course of the past few weeks he had become scared of something.

"Where are we going?" Samuel asked, giving Ania a look that said he had noticed the change in their father as well. Their father just wrung his hands some more, shaking his salt and peppered hair slightly.

"America."


__________________________________________________ ___


Ania sat at the small wooden table that adorned her room at the boarding house. A plate with a slice of bread and a glass of milk rested in front of her, untouched as she read the most recent letter from her family for the third time. It had only arrived this morning but it was comforting looking over the elegant words that she knew her father had penned. It was over a year since she had last seen them. According to the note they were moving to a new town again, having been run out of the last one due to a fight. They didn't live with their heritage in secrecy like Ania did and they paid the consequences. Sometimes Ania felt like a coward but she knew this was for the best. She wasn't adverse to a fight, having been raised the youngest to three older brothers, but she really didn't want to ruin what she had going here. Charlotte was a sweet girl and Ania genuinely enjoyed her time as a nanny.

Included in the letter was a photo of Samuel's baby boy, which Ania placed in a small tin box with other little treasures under her bed. Though tempted as she was to stay and forge through the keepsakes, Ania knew she had better hurry or she would be late to taking Charlotte to her music lessons.

Practically inhaling her breakfast, Ania adjusted the plain dark blue dress she was wearing then pulled her long black hair into a simple bun. Fitting in was impossible for her, but at least she could be modest and not make a spectacle of herself! With one last look in the mirror to make sure she was as little exotic looking as possible, she hurried out the door.


_____________________________________

Everything about today was off, or maybe it was just Charlotte, but that was enough to worry Ania. She looked over at her as they arrived back at Charlotte's house and she saw a familiar look in the young girl's eyes. She was afraid of something.

"Lottie." She took the girl's hand away from her skirt and held it with a firm reassuring grasp. "You can tell me if you want, whatever is."

Ania looked back at the house and frowned slightly. If Charlotte didn't want to talk, Ania would walk into the house first to make sure everything was as it should be.

[Luned]

Charlotte just stared at the ground and, before she could offer any sort of response, Mrs. Gould opened the front door. "Ah, we've been expecting you," she greeted them both coldly, as if they didn't live there. "Come in, come in."

Her daughter shuffled inside, the soles of her shoes scuffing on the hardwood floors. Mrs. Gould winced, but remained silent as she showed them into the front parlor. A teenaged girl was waiting there, sitting primly and sipping expertly from a delicate cup of tea. Her golden brown hair was done in perfect ringlets and she offered the others an awkward smile when they arrived. She looked to Charlotte, set down her beverage, and spoke in the most condescending tone imaginable, a high-class English accent lacing her words tighter than her Puritan undergarments. "Ah, this must be Charlotte. Hello, dear." The friendliness was so forced it might've choked the little girl if she was any closer and instead of responding, Charlotte buried her face in Ania's skirt.

Mrs. Gould looked to Ania. "Your services are no longer needed," she said matter-of-factly. "You will receive one month's severance pay. I've asked Mr. Singh to drive you home."

Lottie whimpered against the fabric of Ania's skirt as her mother tried to pry her loose. "Come now," she sighed impatiently. "You're old enough that you need someone proper and educated looking after you." The woman didn't bother disguising her pleasure in seeing Miss Anna Smith go.

[Olive]

Ania's muscled tensed in unison with Charlotte's as the girl's mother appeared. Ania knew the woman well enough to know that her arrival never meant anything pleasant. It was now just a matter of finding out what flavor of poison she would be spitting out this time. Though, despite her expectations for foul play, Ania could not have predicted this.

She looked back and forth between the three women, Charlotte, her mother and the replacement. Was this really happening. Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare at Mrs. Gould who should count herself lucky that Ania didn't throw any of her grandmother's favorite curses at her. Ania thought about her family and what they would do if they were in her position. Probably start a fight and kidnap little miss Charlotte to live with them on the road in their caravan. Yes, that didn't seem like the best idea. No wonder they were always being run out of town. Ania needed to be a tad more diplomatic than that, even if it went against every fiber of her being.

"I see. Well I do wish you the best of luck. Should you ever need any help with Charlotte, you will know where to find me." She sent the young girl a sly wink before heading for the door. This wasn't over yet. Ania still had a few tricks up her sleeve, and worse comes to worse she might call in her family after all. Surely Charlotte would do better with them than the alternative! But that was a last resort.

As she closed the door behind her, Ania let out a heavy sigh and roughly pulled her hair out of the tight bun. She needed a break. Maybe a glass of something strong was in her future.

[Luned]

Ania was allowed to leave, and as she did a muffled shriek that signified the start of a tantrum rang through the cracks in the door. Charlotte became inconsolable and it would be her new caretaker's first test of competency.

Meanwhile, a stylish town car rolled up like a rumbling ship out of the fog, drifting and bouncing over uneven gravel to pull up to the gate. It stopped with a squeal of brakes and a young man in uniform stepped out, stepping around to open the passenger side rear door for his charge. "Good evening, Miss Smith," he greeted her, white teeth stark against his dark lips as he offered her the most genuine, albeit modest, smile she'd seen all day.

Seth Singh was a beacon of hope to those who found themselves a little out of place in the world. He was a pretty little picture of unlikely success, having strayed from the footsteps of his similarly skilled father to purchase a car and start his own business. Elsewhere it may not have flown, but here in Carcosa, there wasn't much competition.

Once the man got a good look at Ania, however, his expression relaxed into a gentle frown. "Are you alright?" This was a bit personal coming from a mere acquaintance, but in the same way bartenders earned unsolicited confessions, there was something reassuring in the warmly professional way he ushered her into the car.

[Olive]

Ania stared at the man for a long moment, wondering why he was getting so blurry, then she realized she was on the verge of tears. Uhgh, not now.

"I'm fine." The reply came out more shaky than she had hoped, and she took a quick second to wipe her eyes while he was opening the door, hoping he didn't notice, but goodness he seemed like he actually cared. Maybe it was part of his job, or a trait to acquire more tips. Ania couldn't blame him, she and Samuel were quite the pickpockets in their youth.

Ania sat down in the back seat and fussed with the sleeves of her rather drab dress. Apparently trying to blend into the crowd wasn't the answer, they wanted her to look like that girl. Blonde, soft features, perfect ringlets. Well that wasn't going to happen, so she just needed to stick around until the woman quit. In all her live long days she never imagined she would be rooting for little miss Charlotte to throw as many tantrum as possible.

"I was fired." She spoke, without realizing she had said it out loud. What kind of magic did this man have to make her feel so comfortable with talking to him. Well that was the last of it, most definitely.

"Though I don't plan on giving up that easily. Miss Charlotte belongs with me because I actually care about her and if they think that I'm..." Ah she was doing it again. "N-Nothing, just forget it. You can drop me off right there, thank you."

[Luned]

Seth drove on as Ania broke down in the backseat. "Now, miss," he replied calmly, his voice reflecting warmly against the polished leather interior. He didn't slow down when she announced her stop and instead cautiously rounded a precariously foggy corner, but he did take a moment to extract a pristinely pressed handkerchief from his pocket and offered it over his shoulder. "I promised I would deliver you home safely. Take some deep breaths."

Shortly thereafter the boarding house rose from the mist before them and Seth pulled up, putting the car into park and emerging to open Ania's door before she could collect herself. He held a calling card in his hand and, after helping her out, gave it to her. "If you have trouble finding new employment, don't hesitate to reach out. Have a good night, Anna."

The chauffeur closed the car door with a soft thud behind the distraught young woman and stood to wait watchfully, making sure she got inside safely before his own departure. The light was strange, twilight mellowed into indigo dusk. Droplets of condensation hung visibly in the air, floating past the headlights with the gentle, cool breeze that tugged one curl of raven hair out of place and draped it across Seth's concerned brow. He wasn't a particularly handsome fellow, nor tall, but he cut a pleasing figure with the sharp angles of his meticulously tailored driver's uniform.

[Olive]

Ania's tears had dissipated by the time the driver handed her the handkerchief, but she did appreciate the gesture and took it between her finger and thumb, admiring the handsome embroidery along the edges. Seth was a kind man. They had never really interacted but he had a reputation for being reliable and his tan skin gave her the familiar feeling of home, though she would never tell anyone that. She still had a facade to uphold. Speaking of facade, Ania pulled her hair back into a loose knot and smoothed the wrinkles on her dress. She was still angrier than ever over what just happened but luckily she had inherited her mothers 'pick your battles' attitude and knew if she wanted to get Miss Lottie back, giving the girl's mother a black eye wasn't going to help any.

"Thank you, again." She stepped out of the car and held out his kerchief in exchange for the card, carefully looking it over before tilting her head back towards Seth, or rather the misty outline of where he was.

The fog clung to her hair and clothes like a blanket of sweat and she honestly didn't care for it much. It took her long enough to look respectable in the morning and she didn't want to have to put on a repeat performance. "I'll call this number if things don't work themselves out tomorrow... take care on your drive back."

Tucking the card neatly in her pocket, she nodded her head to the misty form of sharp angles and crisp lines before retreating back into the boarding house. She wondered if the new Nanny had pulled her hair out yet. She hoped so.

[Luned]

Seth accepted the handkerchief and folded it precisely before tucking it back into his breast pocket. Amber eyes watched Ania as she disappeared inside, and as she closed the door she'd hear the faint clap of a closing door and rev of an engine as he pulled away.

On the table at the end of the hall where Ania's room was sat a newspaper; Mr. Morse, the elderly tenant across the way, must have left it there. The headlines read something concerning: a German plane had been spotted not far off Carcosa's coast and, paired with a U-boat sighting not long ago, it was enough to rouse the island's inhabitants from their detached emotions toward the war. It was no longer something far away, something that affected other people. It could be coming for them, too.

If Ania checked her pockets that evening, she'd find Charlotte's favorite green hair ribbon. It was a deep hue with a lot of blue in it, and the girl had explained once as she sleepily inspected its shiny contours under a lamp that it was her favorite because it looked like the sea. The ocean wasn't blissfully blue in Carcosa like other places; it was a dark and bottomless thing, not for swimming or sailing, but to respect with caution. One of Charlotte's favorite things was to sneak up into the widow's walk for hours at a time just to look out and watch, as if she thought something might be coming.

It might have been too much credit to say Charlotte put it there on purpose, but either way, it was an excuse to drop by if and when Ania felt inspired.

[Olive]

Ania held the turquoise colored ribbon, each end pinched between two fingers and outstretched in front of her. She wondered what she could do with it. Taking it back was an excuse to see Miss Lottie again, but was it too soon? The new Nanny might not yet be out of her mind. Ideally a few days would have been best, but Ania knew she would just drive herself crazy sitting around in this small room for that long. It had to be tomorrow.

_____________________

The next day, dressed in the most modest of all her outfits, Ania took off for the long walk to Lottie's house. She considered calling Seth via the card he had given her, but it was a favor she hadn't earned yet, and she was hoping to save that call for an emergency, like if this plan fell through.