With the silver church bells ringing with eerie harmony, London felt the sudden chill of horror and grief as the frosty grass swept around covered ankles of humans. Many wept within the graveyard of London as they stood around a newly made tombstone, the engravings still ripe as the fog swallowed the stone. With tears being soaked into satin handkerchiefs, many slowly began departing, leaving a lone woman to watch lastly over the grave. Dressed in peasant clothing but rich enough to buy a dress of black, a fair woman stood silently above the grave. Her cheeks were delicately tear-stained but gave a soft, porcelain glow. The veil hung over her face, hiding it well but leaving her oddly colored, golden eyes visible and clearly showing in the grey light of the day. The grave that lay below her held her older sister who had currently died from a sickness.

Gently, she brushed her cold fingers against the colder stone and sighed longingly, her breath a fog that curled around itself, as if enjoying the long-lasting sorrow she felt sting her eyes and heart. "Elder sister..." she began, "I hope you are well in heaven."

"But is heaven real~? That is the question." The new voice made her jump lightly, sending her black curls bouncing around her slender shoulders as she looked around wildly. "W-Who...?" Only about ten feet away, leaning up against a wilting tree was a male dress entirely in black. The sleeves of his robe reached passed his fingers as he laid his chin and arms across the handle of a shovel. He wore a rather smooth yet crooked grin, his eyes hidden by long bangs of silver hair. The top hat was black as well and had a black ribbon trailing down almost elegantly, the chilled wind catching it.

"Forgive me for making such a rude introduction~ Eheheh but I am the one who decided to give your sister such a special home." Slowly, she blinked in wonder and fear as everything slowly clicked with what she could observe.

"Then you are...Undertaker?" The Undertaker was someone she remembered when her grandmother had passed away from old age, the coffin having been made from strong mahogany wood and the hinges were soundless. This man...was the one who made the coffin's and inspected bodies of the undead and from the looks of it, he didn't mind such work as his cheshire grin grew.

"Right you are~." He swayed slightly from side to side on the shovel, the rounded edge of the dirty blade digging a bit into the loose earth. "I'm surprised you'd stay out in the cold just to be able to say goodbye to an old friend. You really cared for her, didn't you~?" The edge in his voice almost rang with curiosity but the tone made her shiver. It was like he knew something she didn't. Of course, the young woman had much to learn as she grew up but...that didn't mean she was a child still, did it?

"Of course, sir. Why wouldn't I?" Honey colored eyes looked back to the grave solemnly. "I mean...she was a special friend to me."

The male still had the cheshire grin but it lessened as she spoke again. To him, she was another onlooker who knew nothing about life and death and could only see the facts of the cycle. They leave graves after crying a few tears and merely adorning themselves in the black robes of elegance as their loved ones laid in the ground to rot in eternity. But that was what made him question about life. What if you brought the dead back? However, this girl seemed to love the one underground and it was clear to the naked eye that she was rather special.

Slowly, he straightened, raising his chin from his arms. "Hm, to let yourself warm up from the day and sudden loss, I will prepare tea and biscuits at my place for you."

The sudden change of invitation in his voice made her look up and over to him. "Well, I should go home-..."

"Come now~," he replied coolly with a low chuckle, "I have never had a living guest at my place. So, you should be great company."

Tenderly, the woman bit her bottom lip in careful thought. Would it really be safe with someone like this? He was a stranger and not to mention someone who dug graves and searched bodies of the dead. A light shudder slithered down her spine at the wind and sudden thoughts of gore and blood. "As long...as you do not work while I am around..."

As she looked up back at him, having been messing with her laced gloves as she spoke, the male had his lips pursed in thought. "Well~, I suppose you could stay in the back room as I work. After all," he looked back to her with another grin, saying, "there are murderer's constantly roaming in these streets and I don't want an innocent woman in sight." He raised a finger and waved it as if giving a lecture, surprising her with how long his nail was. It was painted a solid black and was about four to five inches in length. "Come now, I have much to work on and tend to, as well as you, my dear~" He hoisted the shovel of his shoulder and almost started to walk off before he stopped. "By the way, shall I ask for your name~?"

The woman blinked but nodded as she picked up her skirts to follow. "My name is Sarah, sir." The male looked skyward in thought once again, head tilted a bit to the side and letting the black ribbon dangle above the ground. "How lovely, I should say~" He began walking off with the shovel once again. Sarah blushed lightly, unable to help herself at how he commented on her name before she followed him quietly. The woman hoped this wouldn't turn into a nightmare.