Page 2 of 2 FirstFirst 12
Results 21 to 38 of 38

Thread: Ghost of a Chance

  1. #21
    Emilie
    Guest
    It was going just about as well as could be expected...that is to say, not well. Emilie had never been patient; though the past ...six? years had passed with excruciating slowness she had always been in search of things to do. First it had been to learn all she could of this new life, unlife after death as it were. Then to become useful in her guild, and to find a place among the other warriors. She had learned arcanoi and how to cross the Shroud, though it was here, at her primary Fetter where the Shroud was weakest for her and she could manifest in the Skinlands most easily. She had other Fetters - ties to the Skinlands and the vapid French girl she had been in life, ties that kept her grounded and from Transcendence. But this one...

    Her thumb traced a whorl on the table absently. "I am a wraith. A ghost." She smiled faintly. "I used to live here."

  2. #22
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    A ghost.

    Jack gave a small nod. It was obvious, after all.

    If vampires were a real, tangible thing that could be found in London of all places, then why not ghosts as well? The vampires that Sean had introduced him to – and to whom he had introduced a stake to the chest – had been, by and large, so normal in their appearance and their homes.

    They seemed... human, and that was what made them so dangerous, Sean had been quick to point out. The media painted vampire's either as antiquated monsters, lurking in dusty old castle, or porcelain white supermodels, moping and brooding at the fringes of society. Neither neat stereotype would, as Gabriel Rodermark had done, own a kettle.

    In a world where vampires were real and owned kettles, the possibility of a ghost appearing in Jack's kitchen, dressed like something out of the Crusades, became much more real.

    “I'm sorry,” he said, apologising for – what? The fact that she was here at all, the fact that he was now living in her.. home. “I - didn't know.”

  3. #23
    Emilie
    Guest
    She stared at him, and rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft. Of course you didn't know." She forced her hand away from the table, putting it on her sword hilt, which was not entirely just for show. It didn't exactly work in the Skinlands, though. "My name is Emilie. I need your help. I will keep bothering you until you say yes, so perhaps let's just get to that part and move on? If not, let me know and I can get straight to the more unpleasant things.

    "Not to be completely cliché but my time is short."

  4. #24
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    “Cliché?” Disbelief was written in every line that wrinkled Jack's forehead.

    “I... you tell me you're a ghost and just expect me to – what? Take it on the chin,” he scoffed. “Forgive me if I'm not-” His breath caught in his throat then came out sounding like laughter, only empty of any emotion. “Just – accepting this. That there's a.. fucking ghost in my kitchen.”

    His head falling forward, Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “Look, whatever you need help with, I'm not your man. I'll.. only make it worse.”

  5. #25
    Emilie
    Guest
    She leaned forward, planting her hands on the table, her blond hair wafting through the air as it slowly caught up with her movements. "Regardez ici, joli garçon, tout le monde s'enfuit. Vous êtes il. Excusez-moi but whatever problem it is you have you will get over it. Or you will die, like me, and work forever to get over it. To... move on."

    Emilie bit out a laugh, and added bitterly, "Transcend your grief or give yourself to Oblivion. Better to do so now than wait." Her hands seemed to sink into the table, as though she were grabbing fistfuls of it's wooden innards. "You think your issues are special? You are the only one to feel like this?"

  6. #26
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The string of what Jack guessed was French sailed right over his head, but her next words were like a slap to the face. She talked about death in the same matter-of-fact way as Sean had, like ending someone's life was as simple as flicking off a light switch. Slow, his limbs feeling like lead, he pulled himself up to his feet.

    “Oblivion? Are you telling me to-” Jack cut himself off. That wasn't a line of thought that he wanted to go any further down.

    “I never claimed what I'm feeling is special – but knowing that other people have felt like this sure as fuck doesn't make it any less painful. You don't know what I've been through, so whoever the fuck you are, you've,” he jabbed at finger at her, “got no right to judge me,” he finished, striking the same finger against his own chest.

  7. #27
    Emilie
    Guest
    "Yes, the pain of the living," she said, her tone sarcastic. "Please tell me how it hurts you to survive and endure your loss here in the world." The more she dwelt on her own life, the more pull the table had on her, a Fetter in more ways than one. She walked around it, her feet making no noise as she crossed to stand in front of Jack.

    "You don't even know what pain is," she sneered, reaching for his shirt. He drew back, nearly tipping his chair over, and she halted, the dark emotions roiling inside her giving strength to her Shadow. Emilie bared her teeth at him, but her face transformed from anger to fear in a moment, and her corpus was jerked backward as if she was standing on a skateboard. The armor she wore melted into fog as she was slammed silently into the table, no better than a drone as she opened her mouth to scream. A strand of barbed wire snaked over her, tying her nude body to the table. The more frantic and furious she became the stronger the effect was, and for a moment she was completely given over to the reenactment of her death, blood pouring from a hundred wounds.

  8. #28
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    It all happened in the blink of an eye: one moment the girl in front of him, a bitter sneer curling into her lips, the next she was torn backwards and writhing about on the kitchen table. Jack's stomach processed it all before his brain did and cold nausea flooding through him, though he swallowed it down with a splutter of a cough.

    “Stop! For fuck's sake just – stop!” He pressed a white-knuckled fist to his lips for an instant, choking down the taste of bile. “I don't know what you want from me.”

  9. #29
    Emilie
    Guest
    It was like being there again, caught in that moment like a fly in a spider's web. The more the panicked the worse it got, and so she forced herself to relax. The imagined pain abated, the barbed wire melted into her skin and armor as it reappeared, leaving behind the scars and raised metalwork. After a moment she flickered out of sight.

    Emilie cursed, drawing on her power to break through to the Skinlands again, stretching against the image of the kitchen in the Shadowlands and pulling herself through the Shroud into existence in the so-called Real World. Jack flinched as she appeared, standing within arms reach of him. She held out a hand, palm down, trying to soothe him. "Excusez-moi, that was... unpleasant for both of us."

    She knelt down, looking up at him where he sat. "I need your assistance. And in exchange I will locate Sean and ensure his safety."

  10. #30
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The back of a hand to his mouth, Jack stared with wide, red-rimmed eyes at the kitchen table. He took a long, shivering breath and tried to convince himself that he wasn't going to be sick. When the woman reached out to him, his gaze shifted to her hand and brought with it all the confusion and shock he'd been leveling at the table.

    “You'll - but how?”

  11. #31
    Emilie
    Guest
    Good, he was listening again. "He is newly born into ze world of ze Dead. A bébé dans les bois, an Enfant. Until he is Reaped Sean is helpless to protect himzelf -" she was losing Jack entirely with this explanation, his face only growing more confused and/or horrified as she spoke. "Oh, merde, vous ne comprenez pas de toute façon. He is like me. A ghost. I will find him in ze Shadowlands, ze ... purgatory for ze dead?" This was going terribly.

    "I can protect him," Emilie said as plainly as she could. "You would not believe ze politics of ze underworld, Jack. An Enfant can become enslaved for hiz entire existence, before being discarded into Oblivion. Zis I would not wish on anyone, least of all your cousin."

  12. #32
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    There were so many words coming out of her dead mouth. Words that might have made sense in any other context, but right now? It was just noise. Enfant, reaped, shadowlands, oblivion. He pressed the heel of one hand into his eyes. There wasn't enough space in his brain to fit all of this in, not when his head was already so full up with grief.

    "How.. how can I help him?"

  13. #33
    Emilie
    Guest
    Her hair was starting to float again, and she was beginning to fade out. Strong as her connection to her apartment was, it was tiring to manifest for so long, and so fully. Emilie remained where she was, kneeling at his feet, but if he looked closely he could start to see the floor through her body. "You help Sean by helping me," she said softly. "I cannot stay in ze Skin- in your world for any length of time. Every ...ghost has what we call 'fetters' - zings in ze real world zat tie us here. Zis place is where I lived. Where I died."

    She shrugged slightly, apologetic. "Which you saw, malheureusement. I can manifest only where my connection iz strongest, which means where my Fetters are." Emilie watched Jack's face for signs of understanding, and continued, "While you help me, I will help you, which means I need to be more mobile. Zere is a wraith in ze Shadowlands zat I must defeat. He was a powerful mage in life and a horrible person in death, and with your help I can stop him."

  14. #34
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    What Sean had told Jack about the supernatural would just about fill up the back of an underground ticket. The gist of it was, don't trust them. Put them in the ground when the opportunity presents itself. At no point had he said, work with them. Help them to defeat their enemies. But...

    If there was even a small chance that this ghost, this woman, could make sure that Sean was at peace, wasn't that worth trying? There was every chance that if Sean had been alone that day, he would have made it out alive. If he hadn't been looking out for his rookie of a cousin.

    Irritation crept into Jack's voice as he pushed his hand back through his hair, then met the ghost's translucent eyes with a pleading look.

    "Christ, just tell me what to do. In plain English."

  15. #35
    Emilie
    Guest
    She sighed, the sound filling the room like an eerie breeze. A paper fluttered off the counter and drifted toward his feet. "Go to Paris as soon as possible. To zis address." Emilie pointed an increasingly ghostly finger at the paper, tracing letters that glowed and then settled into what appeared to be black ink. "I will meet you zere."

  16. #36
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    "Paris?"

    Incredulous, he fished the paper from the linoleum floor. His face wrinkled at the sight of it, as if somehow the idea of going to Paris was more ludicrous than the knowledge that a ghost was living in his kitchen table.

    "I - don't know. I... need some sleep," he said, already swaying to his feet. He moved towards the kitchen door, but something halted him. Frowning, he turned and paced towards the back door, testing to make sure it was locked.

    "I can't promise anything right now," he went on, head hanging low. The back door rattled as he gave the handle a firm tug; it was locked. Pushing the slip of paper into his back pocket, he turned to face the table once more.

  17. #37
    Emilie
    Guest
    She was standing on the other side of the table, her form growing more and more transparent. "Bring somezing with you zat Sean would have a strong emotional connection to. Zis is very important!" Emilie's voice was fading, and she spoke louder to try to compensate, a shout that sounded to Jack a mere whisper. "I will bring him with me to zat address, but without ze object he will no' be able to manifest!"

    Emilie felt the Shroud pulling closed around her, leaving her in her apartment in the Shadowlands. She sighed, raking her hand through her blond hair, nearly tearing it out with her hasty movements. Hopefully it had been enough to convince the Hunter. She would need to rest before she could go looking for Sean, and there was no time to spare.

  18. #38
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    A week later

    The days had rolled by, just as the city rolled by now. The afternoon sun glanced against the windows of the Réseau Express Régional carriage. A cap pulled low on his forehead and a pair of sunglasses shading his eyes, Jack sat with shoulders hunched, low in his chair. Every minute or two, exhaustion pulled him down towards sleep – until light flashed against the window-pane or a jarring tone signaled the departure from another stop. In a half-sleeping state, he imagined that he could spend the rest of his life like this, never getting anywhere, just rolling around the same set of tracks, drifting in and out of awareness of the world. Once, someone sat down next to him, but he blinked and they were gone.

    By the time he reached Mairie d'Ivry, he'd slept a total of twenty-five disjointed minutes. He shuffled out of the station, hefting the light backpack on his shoulder, the strap chaffing. A glance down and he shook the bracelet of his heavy-wrist watch. Sean's watch. It was mid-afternoon. Paris. What was he doing here?

    He fumbled in his pocket for a piece of paper, a printed map. It was a quarter of an hour walk to the address Emilie had given him. From another pocket, he fished out his mobile phone. It warned him that he had five missed calls, labelled: Work. A series of text messages waited, unanswered, containing words like where and when and unauthorised. Jack flicked the notifications away, unable and unwilling to process them right now. Instead, he thumbed directions into his phone, plugged an earphone into one ear and let the dispassionate voice of the map app guide him towards the Rue Pasteur.

Page 2 of 2 FirstFirst 12

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •