"Avaunt! tonight my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a paean of old days!
Let no bell toll! -lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven -
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven -
From grief and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven."
-Lenore, Edgar Allen Poe
Lenore found something oh-so-delightful about watching the funeral processions go through town. The girl had quite a knack for getting lost, and even though one of Inker's men was right over her shoulder, he seemed bewildered by the strange, adorable, albeit creepy, little girl with white hair and sapphire eyes. She twirled her jumper, letting the skirt swish around her knees, "When do you think Mr. Iggy will be back?" she asked the man, who didn't speak, but merely shrugged. He couldn't help it; she creeped him out.