(Occasionally I want to write and little blurbs like these just pop into my mind. So these are some little random babblings about Ali that don't fit into any stories yet. Maybe someday...)

May 28, 1905: Ali's 17th or 18th birthday

Alicorne mixed together ingredients, careful not to slosh anything onto the counter. Once she was quite sure she had gotten all of the lumps out she put the cookies on an oven sheet, spacing them out evenly. After she place the sheet in the oven she sighed and checked the time.

She might be the only one to eat the cookies, the house seemed dead tonight. She was alone. How typical.

'Maybe I should check the parlor . . .' She nodded in agreement with herself and walked into the parlor only to find Gervaise sitting and rubbing her stomach. Ali felt her heart sink at the sight, but said hello. Gervaise replied in an uncharacteristically cheerful voice. Ali tried to make conversation, not paying much attention to what she said. Even without trying Gervaise had a talent for making her feel bad. Didn't she have a date tonight? (Did she ever?) Had she seen Gavin? It was as if she knew by heart a list of subjects that would make Ali's knight worse.

Not too long after the conversation had started, the phone rang. Ali answered and when the voice on the other end responded, even though the person tried to disguise it, her heart fell through the floor. It was Scythe. Not sure she could handle this, she chose to play dumb. Once Gervaise had the phone, she quickly made her way back into the kitchen, sitting down.

She sighed and laid her head in her hands. "Happy birthday to me."

(AKA: After Scythe's death. She's a lot more forgiving than Gavin.. or omnipotent OOC Ali for that matter.)

Alicorne walked along until she came to the bridge and stopped. There was no body, so Scythe had no tombstone, though he was dead now. It had gone on so long, his torturous presense at the lodging house, even after he had left. But now, suddenly he was gone forever.

He would probably find some such pleasure in that. He would probably utter some smug comment, something along the lines that his memory would haunt them forever, that he had broken them, or that everyone rejoiced in his death, sinking them to his level.

Ali smiled slightly as she stared out over the dark waters flowing under the bridge. "I'll do you one better, Scythe," she whispered, "I forgive you. And I wish Nicholas well, because whereever he is, I'm sure he's finally free of you." She smiled, knowing that she had meant what she'd said, and hummed softly as she walked away. "Good bye, Scythe."