[Ethereal Notions] Into the Unknown (Flashback)

[Ryshaltze]

Season of Autumn, Day 55, 508 AV

Ryshaltze entered Ethereal Notions, touted to be the top haunt, pardon the pun, of Spiritists and the dearly departed alike. His gait portrayed reverence, for the atmosphere that this place seemed somehow sacred to him, and an instinct within him likened this place partly to the library where one have to keep volume to a minimal low and to respect the books. In this case, it was definitely not books. The light shining through the window was impressive, and the presence of a real window showed either the owner's luck or connections was strong enough to secure such a location in the huge castle. It also served as a metaphor for hope, perhaps, for it looked like a shining beacon in the midst of the darkened shop and he appreciated the decor, whether intended or not.

He had arrived in an attempt to find out more about Spiritism. He found himself to possess a minor talent in this area of magic when a desperate ghost had tried to possess him years before but no avail. A more powerful spiritist who happened to be in the area resolved the matter speedily, and explained to him what happened before telling him that he had potential in the area should he pursue it. Ryshaltze had no idea where this talent came from, especially when he was sure that that his Drykas incarnation had no link to spiritism at all, and so was pretty sure that this skill manifested in one of his earlier incarnations, whose memories he could access upon triggering a certain event related to the skill.

"Excuse me, is there anyone to provide assistance?" He called out, seeing as there is nobody in the room, he was unsure of what to do. He did not want to seem too intruding as well and so remained in the first room that he arrived in after entering.

[Leviathan]

"Perhaps you could." Eerie, a soft voice uttered softly in the very room Ryshaltze was standing in, the same room that was empty, yet apparently was not as void of life, or death, as Ryshaltze thought. Standing behind him was a small creature with large shining Green Eyes staring straight up at the man. It was a mere child, how she had gotten there, surely was difficult to imagine, but she was definitely there now. The little girl lifted a small dirt covered hand up towards Ryshaltze, perhaps a handshake? There was something strange, although most wouldn't notice, there was just an odd feeling, perhaps several suggested thoughts of who, or what, this girl was. After several minutes being alone with the girl, footsteps were heard approaching, yet from another room, it was the woman known as Whisper, Whisper Addison, owner of the building, and master of Spiritism. The moment the woman stepped into the room her long blonde hair fell down across her shoulders, as if some brief wind hand come and pucked up said golden locks and scattered them briefly, and behind her was a man, her fiancée, Duncan. Duncan was said to have been dead, anybody that knew about the Syliran Knights knew of him, but the fact that he stood there now, tall, and as solid as Whisper herself, suggested the stories to be false, his death a mere myth. However, Ethereal Notions was renown for such strange occurrences. The dead rarely stayed on Mizahar once departing from there bodies, but on even rarer occasions did they return to their bodies once slain. Duncan should not look this real. Whisper approached Ryshaltze briskly, yet her eyes were locked on the small child next to the man. The girl, understanding something in that gaze that Ryshaltze could not, smiled faintly and walked silently out of the room. Silently, as if her feet never once touched the floor or her body did not cast a shadow from the lone window up above as she passed. "Please forgive her, she was so young." Whisper spoke, almost begging in apology for the child's behavior, which originally seemed quite kind, yet unnerving at the same moment. "Here, have a seat. You don't seem like one that has come for a brief visit and a quick departure. How can I help you sir?" Whisper lead Ryshaltze to a large chair against the wall, and in the meantime her companion Duncan left the room, following after the small girl, yet his movements no louder than raw, settled, heavy silence.

[Ryshaltze]

The Ethaefal's heart skipped a beat when the soft voice drifted upwards. He had sworn that the room was empty, and yet the appearance of this little girl defied the laws of natural sciences. She lifted her hand towards Ryshaltze, but he continued to look at her, partly stupefied and partly wondering what she really is. She looked like a normal young girl, fair enough, but she emanated something that made him feel that she was more than that. Or less.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Ryshaltze was jolted out of his stupor, turning his head towards the appearance of the owner of the building. Whisper Addison - master spiritist and beacon of light to the confused departed. Behind her was a stately man, confident in his gait which suggested that he was at home here. His comfortable proximity with Whisper suggested familiarity or maybe intimacy. From what information he'd gathered in the local taverns about the place and a certain Syliran Knight before entering here, this man was most probably Duncan, Whisper's ghostly fiance. He did not really believe that, for Duncan seemed quite alive here, completely unlike the ethereal form of the lost-looking young girl moments earlier.

Whisper led Ryshaltze to a chair, and soon they were alone when Duncan and the young girl left the room.

"Not to be rude, miss Addison, but uh, are they, y'know, mortality-challenged?" His usual witty self was still being currently held up in the traffic, and he was left un-eloquently stumbling. He shook his head as if to clear up his mind, and remembered his original purpose.

"Actually, I am here to ask my lady to grant me a boon. I have always been interested in the interactions between the living and the not-so-living, and having heard of your specialty in the field, I was most hopeful of gleaming a bit of your expertise." Confidence crept back into his voice as he gradually regained his ground after being caught off-guard from the earlier encounter.

[Leviathan]

"So, you've been interested in the deceased that cannot, or will not, reincarnate?" Whisper slowly looked around the room, each second her gaze jumped to a different area, but focused on the emptiness, as if she saw something there. Her faint smile slowly faded as her head slowly turned back towards the Ethaefal, her expression, shifting painfully slowly from that smile to a frown, and an almost infuriated look, was almost terrifying. It was the sort of fear stricken into the hearts of men that only a woman could deliver, or more so, a woman in love. Yet, in spite of her obvious indignation to Ryshaltze's, which was enough to cause even the bravest of Syliran Knights to shake inside and soil their full suits of armor, she kept her words gentle and kind, though she was unable to mask the angered tone of voice. "I'm sorry my unnamed friend (there was a hint of sarcasm in her obviously angered tone), but I cannot help you. If you are seeking out those lost souls for your own amusement, I suggest you leave Syliras." Whisper Addison continued to look down at Rys as she stood only a few feet to his left, hovering over him as if she was moments from calling all the angered spirits within her home to come and torture him, possess him, ruin him to the best of their abilities, and a thought flashed through his head, as if put there telepathically by the Spiritualist Woman in front of him, she could do just that. Whisper then, suddenly, turned around and took a few steps away from the man, lifting a fragile pale hand to her face and placed it gently across her forehead. She was tired, the eyes suggested so, the movements were slow, almost sluggish, painfully contrasting to her small slender form. She took a moment there, breathing slowly, recollecting herself, then she turned slowly to face Ryshaltze one more time. "Forgive me, that was rude. These spirits, I cannot simply exploit them, their pasts, simply for an interest. I will... I will let you meet Duncan."

[Ryshaltze]

For some reason, he had offended the spiritist, and it was evident in her response to him. It was strange, how he had faced down larger and more terrifying creatures than her, but yet now he felt as if he were a small ant squinting up at a large giant glaring at him. This was the imagery that popped up in his mind when he envisaged this exchange.

Own amusement?

His terror began to shift into righteous anger as he attempted to defend himself, and indignant fury that swirled in the storm that began to gather in his eyes and he formed the appropriate retort. He was about to, however, but was cut short when she turned around and suddenly looked like a fragile and tired woman. Ryshaltze was confused again, suddenly the remarks that he had in mind seemingly over-kill, for he would feel most just when she was a (in his mind) terrifying monster, but now when she so obviously displayed her fatigue and mortality it would seem ridiculous to think of such a notion.

Duncan.

Ryshaltze nodded; maybe he could get her fiance to see sense. It was an inane assumption to make of him, when she accused him of thinking of exploiting lost souls for his own entertainment. His indignant fury was justified, for that thought was far from his mind. Would one learning archery in order to hunt for food to feed his people be considered a heartless murderer when bows are able to kill from an impersonal distance? Would one learning swordplay to defend the right to live for himself and his loved ones and also to protect the defenseless against the malicious be branded a demon for learning the very art that takes lives away? Would a herbalist be accused as a poisonous witch when the very same science can result in the contrasting opposites of death-inducing toxins and death-defying healing potions? It was by the very same comparison by which he wished to further his knowledge in this area. Her sentiment that all spirits are innocent, lost souls are a romantic thought not relevant to modern society. Spirits are just like humans, and just as there are wicked humans, the same could be said for spirits. There are even malicious undead beings in ethereal form, such as the Desolate Ones, that only an expert can combat.

He sighed and awaited the man who was once a Syliran Knight. He hoped that he could talk sense into the ghostly being, for if even he could not listen to simple, plain logic, it would be pointless to continue.

[Leviathan]

Several moments passed, silence was heavy, like a think blanket smothering a child who was too weak to pull themselves from underneath its engulfing embrace. Perhaps he would notice, perhaps not, but Whisper had become very still, looking at him, but not seeing him. She might as well have been a perfectly crafted statue, cold, gazing emptily into nothing, she was no longer herself. Duncan's appearance was instant and sudden. There was, however, another presence in the room, and being a novice in the craft, Ryshaltze would easily detect said presence, the young girl standing in the room, as far away as possible, hidden in the corner, watching. Whisper's mouth was opened, only so slightly that her breath would be faintly felt if one was to hold a hand to her lips, but the voice that radiated from her person was not her own, it was deeper with a hint of energy and vigor. Ironically, it was Duncan. "I see you have worried my fiancée. What do you call yourself stranger? Perhaps she does not trust your motives because she does not know you." Dunce lifted his, or actually it was Whisper's, hand, offering it to shake hands with the newcomer, Ryshaltze. It of course could not be surely known, but it would appear that Duncan was enjoying this, controlling the body of Whisper just to communicate, perhaps even show off, to Rys. "My name is Duncan Favrie, Whisper Addison is my Fiancée. I ask that you'll forgive her, she is very protective of us. She lives to help me, to help her." Whisper's hand would slowly move, pointing towards the corner where the Green-Eyed ghost child. "In her defense, more often do others come for a scary story than to truly learn. I assume you have questions?" "Be careful what you ask, becoming too attached can be dangerous."

[Ryshaltze]

Ryshaltze simply waited, occasionally taking a glance at the direction where Duncan and the child had walked off leaving the petite woman with him. He was vaguely aware that Whisper had stopped, but he did not notice the fact that she had became unnaturally still. Something more urgent tugged at the back of his mind, and he suddenly felt a presence at appear at a corner of the room. He could not quite put his finger on it, and he strained his eyes, trying to make sense of it. It was as if his brain screamed at him that, yes, there is someone there, but his eyes were disagreeing that, no, stop hallucinating.

"I see you have worried my fiancée. What do you call yourself stranger? Perhaps she does not trust your motives because she does not know you."

A man's voice, strong and confident, boomed and interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the source of the sound, expecting to see the form of Whisper's fiance, but instead still seeing Whisper standing there. He raised an eyebrow in query, and was more or less answered when the voice continued speaking from Whisper's very own mouth.

"My name is Duncan Favrie, Whisper Addison is my Fiancée. I ask that you'll forgive her, she is very protective of us. She lives to help me, to help her. In her defense, more often do others come for a scary story than to truly learn. I assume you have questions?"

He followed the pointed hand to the very same corner that he had tried to figure out earlier. It was now that he realized that, with prompting, he could feel the same presence of that young girl. He returned his attention to the body of Whisper Addison.

This is it. Possession.

Ryshaltze tried not to seem too alarmed and casually shook Duncan's (or Whisper's??) proffered hand. "Yes, I do see the merit in her disgust, for what you say does make sense. I might have done the same if I were her." He replied in a form of mediation, for he did not want ill blood between them to occur accidentally.

"I do not seek to exploit the innocent," He began in a bid to clear his name. "But I admit in having a curiosity that far extends beyond that of normal 'scary-story seekers'." He waved off the mention of said seekers dismissively. "It is my intent to seek greater knowledge and understanding in Spiritism, for knowledge is a powerful tool that can provide hope for the lost, and salvation to the weak. Ignorance is my enemy, and it is to this effect that I seek to remedy this error, for I do not want to accidentally cause harm from ignorance."

[Leviathan]

There was a smirk in his voice, obviously Whisper's frozen form did not move so much as a twitch, but just they Duncan spoke, sounding so human, was an obvious sign of sarcasm. "Innocent? I am unfortunate to have died and to have left my love behind for now. I am unfortunate that I never got to see my wedding or sire a child, I am unfortunate to be so young and have seen so little, yet died so soon in life. But innocent, I am not. Not even the knights of Syliras (which he was one of in life) are innocent. That girl over there, she is innocent, but many ghosts, most I'd venture to say, are not innocent, and that is the reason they remain. Vengeance, selfishness, anger, punishment, the reasons for remaining here are vast as the ocean, however, few are different, are lost. (a finger once again lifted to point to the child in the corner) And there are some like myself that cannot bear to leave until my responsibilities are finished. Friend, Whisper trusts you now, or more so. We will teach you a little, something, but know the risks involved. Possession is addicting, and once the ghosts in this house sense your soulmist, they'll probably try and take you." With this, Ms. Addison blinked, the first time in what appeared to be a good ten minutes of conversation, her vision was probably blurry, faintly dry, maybe even aching. She rubbed her eyes softly as she turned around and left the room without a word, but in the place she stood, a figment of a person was standing, slowly he began forming back into the person, Duncan. It was his soulmist, which was correctly named as he looked very much like a man formed of a faint smoke-like substance that began to flow together, and eventually forming him as a whole. In Ryshaltze's and Duncan's state, possession would have been simple indeed, but Duncan was not cruel, he knew that would not please Whisper, and she was the only thing he "lived" for now. "We're going to have you produce some soulmist for us, you can find out yourself what to do with it, how to use it. All I can say is that it is manipulated easily by those who have a talent for such a thing. Whisper could hurt me, and do so to great lengths if she so desired, and she is not above punishing those ghosts which fail to obey the rules here. Now, I believe you have been startled, or at least somewhat surprised at what you have seen, but I do wish to have your name, Whisper may not be so bold as to ask for it, but she also wishes to know what to call you." Duncan's lips slowly formed a smirk as he watched Rys, who was completely defenseless against the body-less man, how ironic. He supposed once Whisper was done, that would be switched around, if he stuck around that is.