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Marigold had always been a bit of a precocious child, and when her abilities, her skills in working with the arcane, became a little more obvious, no one that knew was really surprised.
As a mystic, Marigold was a quick learner; she was smart, involved, and devoted to her cause. She made it far that way, giving herself a name among her peers.
Of course, this rise couldn’t maintain itself, not before a long fall. No one really knew what it was that went wrong, that night. It was a faulty problem, one that only the investigators involved really knew the extent of, other than Marigold. After the incident, however, she was unwilling to speak about it. No, all anyone really knows is that there was an accident, one that ended in death, in tragedy, and that she was the center of it.
It was an accident, certainly, one that she couldn’t have caused, but that didn’t stop her from taking the loss and failure to heart. Years passed before the young mystic would once again work with anyone, stepping out of her hovel for the first time when asked about the Department of Abnormal Occurrences.
Now, she’s back in the field, but she’s changed quite a bit from the young, ambitious mystic she once was. Now, she’s withdrawn studious to the point of obsession, searching desperately for anything that might have saved the people she cared about, something to fix the hole in her heart. And she hopes, desperately she hopes, that this just might be her chance to help herself.
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