[Ethereal Notions] Death Becomes Him (Cale)

[Hadrian]

"Illiam Cale," he repeated, and held out his hand as if to shake. Perhaps it was a silly gesture, but it was the respect he would show any living person, so why not a dead one? "Hadrian Aelius." Full name for full name. The young enchanter watched Cale for a moment, calculating. The White Enchantress had died twenty-two years before the Valterrian if the histories were to be believed and Hadrian had no good reason to doubt the date. If Cale had been a boy at that time, then he would have been a man for the Valterrian, if he had lived long enough to experience it. So he was old. A mercenary. The Reapers seemed a common enough name for mercenaries, but it wasn't one he recalled. He might do some research into it anyway. He liked to know things. "Shinies?" he asked. "Do you mean... soulmist? If you do, yes. I'm not very good at it, though." Still, mediocre soulmist was better than none for a starving ghost, he imagined. If Cale thought he had anything that Hadrian wanted, soulmist would likely be the price. "Are we negotiating?" he asked.

[Cale]

For the first time, Cale blinked, surprised. Then he leaned forward, taking Hadrian at face value as he spoke. Then he extended a bandaged limb, lightly grazing the other man's palm. He knew all to well what could happen if he fully grasped the offering, his touch was beyond cold to the living, and could be quite painful if sustained. "Soulmist? What'n you want in return?" He had no idea what Soulmist was, or what this individual knew of it, but he had been referring to enchantment. No loss. He'd probably need whatever... Soulmist was. It probably had something to do with his current state, but... he'd never really put much thought into improving himself. He was cursed to walk the earth a dead man. It was a bit disconcerting that the average human nowadays knew more about his condition than he did. Although, wandering around for years and feeling sorry for himself probably hadn't helped. What was life? It was something that plagued him. His old self would have laughed. Would have cast aside the question with a joke, or a rebuke. Now, it consumed him. What was he supposed to do with immortal life? He'd always expected to die young. Regarding Hadrian still, he looked about the small room. His existance was cursed, how could he go on? He couldn't fall in love, couldn't fight, couldn't even drink. That is what his life had been. Now he was forced to watch everyone else. The ghost's image suddenly started to blur, with bits and puffs of smoke overriding the edges and outline. Wisps started collect along the shoulders and neck as he awaited Hadrian's proposal.

[Hadrian]

"Soulmist is what you're made of now. It's what you use up the way a wizard uses up djed... energy. I know how to make more, and I can offer it to you to make you stronger. Think of it as food for ghosts. We could trade. Soulmist for a favor. Of course, I'm no great spiritist, so you would owe me no great favor, but a little bit extra never hurt anyone, right?" He sat back in his chair. "Normally I would be more explicit in the exchange, but I don't even know what you're capable of that could help me... But this would be a relatively minor exchange. Perhaps later we could decide if there is reason to exchange more." After a moment, he stood up and put the book away. He already knew the ritual to make soulmist. "You can follow me home, can't you? I'll make it for you there. Or you can hang out here. Your choice."

[Cale]

While the ghost thought, he could feel himself losing solidity. He had never really bothered materializing for long periods of time, and this was about as long as could be maintained. Still, he wasn't sure if he could appear for longer. He should probably start learning about his fate, as opposed to bemoaning it. Giving a snort to nobody in particular, the ghost gave a nod, and extended a smoking hand towards the door. "Yae' soft types donna' strike me as the people who need to learn how to fight. So I think, any anna'll favors will be in reg'rds to my condition." Something to think on. He didn't really have anything to give. Although, who knew? Maybe he needed to learn about things from the two kingdoms? Shrugging to nobody in particular, the ghost suddenly dissapeared. His solidity used up, he could feel his mind already starting to wander. It was always so hard to focus when he faded. Nothing could cage him in this state, and he had no body, no feeling, nothing to keep him anchored in reality. He followed Hadrian out the door, and to wherever the magic man wanted to go. Invisible to the rest of the world, the ghost watched.

[Hadrian]

Content that the ghost would follow him home, Hadrian quit the residence-cum-shop. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could feel a chill prickling that wasn't quite physical, the which he attributed to Illiam Cale. The first book he had read on spiritism had said that once one opened their eyes to that world of spirits, the senses quickly began to sharpen. Perhaps that was already happening. When he came to his father's house, he sneaked into the kitchen, filled a small bowl with a bit of flour, cracked an egg in it, grabbed some cheese, a sharp knife, and a dull spoon, and spirited them -- pun intended -- to his room. With the door closed, he looked around, trying to ascertain where Cale was. The rules of the physical realm only marginally affected ghosts from what he understood, but it was still good to know where he was. When he thought he had the direction correct, he smiled. "You don't have to materialize. I understand that taxes your resources. But you can watch... It'll just take a few minutes, I think." He broke off some cheese and started stirring everything together in the bowl. Though not exactly meditating, he was quite focused on his work, bearing in mind what he was doing. Eventually he was left with a lumpy, gooey paste, to which he added a few drops of blood after pricking his finger with the knife. With only a quick glance in the direction it seemed to him Cale had taken up, he spooned most of the mixture into his mouth, grimacing at the taste, and began to chew. It did become a meditation then; he counted to three hundred, biting down on the mixture in his mouth with each count. All the while he converted his djed into soulmist as he had learned from the books. It was easier this time than the last time with Vance. Already he had a bit of a ritual of his own, though he hoped he could make as good with a better mixture of foods. The raw egg was just nasty. He did notice the change in his mouth, and when the countdown was completely, he spat out a sort of gel into his cupped hands. It was cool, too cool to have just come from the warmth of his mouth. And it glowed a faint white in the light from the windows. It would likely be more impressive at night, but so it goes. He held out his cupped hands to Cale. "Go ahead. Eat it."

[Cale]

For his part Cale had followed the winding streets, keeping an eye upon the other man. As they approached the rather large residence, and Hadrian ducked in, Cale took a moment to study the surroundings. Giving little notice to the fellow as he gathered ingredients and food stuffs from the kitchen, Cale focused on a nearby counter. He imagined laying his hand on the top, trying to remember the shape, what it might feel like. Nothing happened. He simply didn't have the energy to ... 'materialize' as Hadrian had put it. Looking about, he realized Hadrian had moved on. Making his best guess, he dove down the hallway and found the mageling stirring, and starting what looked to be a rather simple ritual. Not overly familiar with magic, Cale knew a few basics. Djed was used. Djed being produced by the body. Djed could be formed and manipulated. Although, any one of those facts could be wrong. He didn't even know how to read, so magic had never really interested him. Still, it was a good starting point for his own abilities. Soulmist was his form, his body per se. Looking down, he saw nothing, but sensed his own ethereal presence below. It was hard to describe. You didn't 'look' so much as focus on things. One of the many reasons the ghost liked to let his mind go. If you thought about it too much, it would drive you mad. As Hadrian spat out the jelly into his hands, Cale focused on it, moving a bit closer. It was strange, unlike the things around him, it took no effort for the ghost to grasp it, as he did so, the outline of his arms and wispy body came into view. The glowing stuff was cupped, and then swallowed, the light giving an eerie glow to the entire being as it was consumed and distributed throughout his form. The feeling was exceptional, in that, he actually felt something. Better was the term. Like a pond that had been refilled after a long drought. The feeling quickly faded, and Cale felt much as he did before. Appearing again, Cale seemed a bit more transluscent, obviousley taking liberties with his appearance so that he could stay longer. "Sad. Our language's cannae' describe the feeling. Something, is neva' for nothing. What favoor' did you have in mind?"

[Hadrian]

"It worked," Hadrian said, pleased. Watching the ghost gain strength, both with his auristic vision and with his newfound spirit sense, he filed away what he saw for later reference. "I don't really know what to ask for," he said. "I'm new at working with spirits of the dead. Information, I suppose. I can feed you for information. From what I understand, when your reserves are filled, you'll be more like... yourself." He wanted to see if he could withstand possession now, but the idea still frightened him. He tried not to let that fear show on his face, and he calmed himself so it wouldn't show in his aura just in case ghosts could see that, too.

[Cale]

The ghost rolled his eyes without blinking, and sort of moved over to the corner, peering about the younger man's abode. The room was small, and he wasn't entirely sure that a woman had ever appeared in such a place, but the sheer amount of papers and books gave the long dead merc pause. "Yae' mention new. Some kind of apprentice?" Peeking about, the man seemed to crack his neck before looking back to Hadrian. "Annae' where be your woman? She should be cleaning camp." Wether he was referring to the room, or the whole house was up for debate, but the ghost took no notice, instead bending down and eyeing a sheaf of papers. He'd never bothered with such petty things, but he assumed that useful things rested between the pages, what with the kid able to make.. soulmist. You certainly didn't learn that at your local pub.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian sat himself down. The creation of soulmist wasn't so very difficult, but he was new at it and it did take some out of him. He started munching on what was left of the cheese, and he sucked at the end of his pricked fingertip to staunch the dribble of blood he had made. When Cale began to talk, Hadrian watched and listened. "I'm no longer an apprentice," he said, "but spiritsm isn't my forte. I'm just teaching myself, basically. When I get to a point where I can't learn any more on my own, I will see about finding a teacher if I deem it worth my time." He blushed and mumbled, "And I don't have a woman. No time. Ah... I'm not exactly prime material for ladies. But this is my father's house, anyway. We're in Syliras, which wasn't around when you were alive. Soon, in the fall, I'll be going back to Zeltiva, which was still a part of Alahea before the Valterrian." Wondering if Cale had any other questions, he continued to eat and watch. After another glance at the ghost's aura, he relaxed his eyes, letting the auristic spectrum disappear from view so he wouldn't overgive. That was the last thing he needed to do while visiting home.

[Cale]

The ghost couldn't believe his senses. What kind of world was this? Shrugging to nobody in particular, Cale eyed the cheese and blood as Hadrian dealt with both. "Always time. Even with pow'hr your body won't be satsified." Tapping his chest he cocked his head at the ceiling as he scratched at his neck. "Don't feed the body, yae' cannae' expect it to do what yae' want. Prime Ma'teial is in the mind. You are teaching yae'self magic. If that donnae' get the ladies wet, nothin' will." He knew of Zeltiva, of Syliras. He'd watched the latter during its founding. Wondering at the silly knights and their silly tree. They seemed to have made something of it however. The white city had grown, and prospered. He had hardly noticed during his long sojourn. Hoping he had gotten his previous point across, he blinked. "There is an outpost, a place called Lisnar, built upon the ruins of Treval. 'Twas where I was born." A shake of the head, and he sort of slumped, obviously lost in thought.