In the charred husk of the Crone Farm. Certainly growing fresh grass and weeds where it could. Time hasn't stopped even if she hadn't done anything with the property itself. Stood Alice Hart, Priscus of Haunts and Senechal of the Domain...screaming.

Loudly and wildly.

Zephyrus Himself carried her wordless cry of frustration and anger and more, up and away. Far enough that no one cared to notice the near feral snarl coming from the throat of a marionette.

More Wraith then Women the Doll prowled the edges of the farm, yanking the faded yellow tape off of where it was still secured, even after all this time. Snarling at it as the tape fell to the ground with nary a sound. It was offensive, and a subtle proof of what had happened here. Of what was lost.

Alice couldn't be like this in Court.

...she couldn't even be like this Below.

She could only act thusly alone - or where her brothers and sisters should be gathering.

Alice didn't know what she was doing. Only what seemed to be right

She moved, prowling no longer. Her smooth and sometimes jerking limbs twisted together only to fall apart. Alice swayed in the winds - Zephyrus' embrace. His breath sliding against her spine, and pulling at her hair and skirt.

She wasn't cool or composed there was no ice left, only water. She snarled and writhed and let the canopy of the night swallow up the sounds made, anything to keep out the silence.

The Wraith thrashed and hissed and snarled.

Alice didn't think she'd every be okay with the silence ever again.

She'd never let the water freeze.

Even if that made her a little more...rabid.