Her golden ringlets caress her white slightly rosed cheeks as she makes her way through the shadows keeping away from the sun and at one with the dark. Her deep blue eyes sparkle and shine as she looks around her an air of childlike curiosity to her, yet her movements are strangely adult, her posture upright her white almost porcelain hand clutching at a beautiful china doll the exact replica of herself. Her red rose lips holding a soft smirk yet they are moist and luscious, her eyes, the only adult feature on her hold a mystery and a question which would never be answered, there were no answers, there was nothing to know. Her golden ringlets bounce and shine in the light yet the beauty of her features is twisted in to a grotesque adult doll trapped in a box suffocated by her own beauty an age beyond age in a youthful cell. Anger plagues her blue eyes and she brings her doll closer to her almost hiding it under her dark green velvet cloak that reaches past her waist and stops before her ankles, the hood of the cloak remains down letting the full mass of golden ringlets shine through. Under the cloak she wears a dark rose pink dress a garment that you would perhaps dress a doll in beautifully decorated with black and white lace a blue sash around her waist. Thin white endless kisses seem to have stained her smooth white cheeks an image innocently warped her feet moved effortlessly as if she were a ghost. A lost soul. Perhaps she was but that did not matter anymore. The doll she holds is the one doll she had left their rest with there pretty porcelain faces smashed in with pokers and there lovely satin dresses burned to a crisp in a fire. She was Claudia.