Yes, you.
She hesitated to be so direct. Did he really not understand? His incredulous tone sent her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach.
Or maybe he did understand what she’d meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to believe that these souls truly needed him. They couldn’t leave him alone. Not until they’d either realized the meaning of their existence or fulfilled their life’s purpose; both of which seemed to require Noven somehow.
Amrita shut her eyes with an exasperated sigh. Abu was far better at explaining these things. He’d been patient and tolerant, calmly listening to her blatant ignorance with that slightly silly tilt of his head as she spewed on about ghosts being unintelligent and insane. He would ask her questions to challenge her beliefs, and counter her arguments with logic and reason. In truth, it took her a long time to accept his entirely altruistic philosophy. How could she expect to convince Noven of such things, so quickly? She’d barely had experience handling ghosts on her own, let alone influencing their murderers.
There was no time to dwell on Noven and her own naivety. Amrita’s focus quickly shifted to Henry as he pummeled forward. She heard his target yelling from behind her when she jumped to get her partner’s attention, hoping that Henry would stop once she got in the way. He didn’t.
His vengeance passed through her in a momentary gust of freezing mist. It struck her like a million tiny needles, the cold pain surprisingly amplified by the experience of Henry’s own pain infused within his soul’s substance. Amrita shrieked as she fell to the ground on her hands on knees, tears flowing down her cheeks.
She was way past her breaking point. Not only did she feel like she was physically torn to pieces, but her mind felt torn as well. On the one hand, Amrita desired to free Henry from suffering - if only based on her ideals and pure instinct. On the other, she figured that the only significant way to help was to let Henry use her body to his own free will. Did that mean that Noven needed to suffer? He hadn’t said much of anything to plead his case against being a traitor. Why try and save him when it was clear that he was the catalyst for the passage of nearly every undead soul in the room?
And that was when it clicked: she didn’t have a real reason to hurt him. Despite being a killer, Noven had done nothing to justify physical punishment. Most of the ghosts in this room were murdered according to a reasonable sense of morality. As far as she was concerned, his intentions had been pure, even though his actions were far from it. The room rumbled in conjunction with her sudden realization, cracking her wall of unwavering resolve.
Amrita turned to see Henry drunkenly beat down his former friend, who oddly wasn’t fighting back. She could see the rage in his deadened eyes as he delivered every bone-crushing blow. It was strange to see such force in an ethereal form. Impossible, even. Especially when she could see his hands pass straight through Noven’s shielded face.
Trying to focus on something she could control amidst the near absurdity, Amrita strained to get back up on her feet, only to fall back onto her rump like a frail little girl.
Petch. She winced, groaning in utter frustration. The room full of ghosts stared blankly at the scuffle unfolding amongst them. As much as she desired to free their souls, Amrita knew that she meant practically nothing to them. Her relationship to Henry was the only thing they vaguely understood, but other than that, she was just another one of the living. The thought of her insignificance crossed her mind just as a shrill, feminine voice broke through the noise of the dead.
Amrita slowly picked herself up. She watched and listened as the sickeningly gorgeous young woman sauntered over to the men on the floor. Who IS that? She seemed to be a friend of Noven’s. But when he bolted for the wall and sent the whole room hollering in response, she wasn’t sure whose side the woman was on. She needed to know. She was through with this madness, and she needed answers.
“Why?” Amrita shouted across the room. “Why shouldn’t he try?” Amrita began to walk closer to the pretty redhead, both in awestruck wonder and burning curiosity.
“Why does he even matter to you? To both of you?” Her voice shook as she tried her best to stay calm. She turned her gaze to Henry, hoping that he’d hear her sincerity through his inebriated haze.
“Sweetheart, I want you to get the atonement you so desire. And you know I’ll do anything to help you. But why does he deserve to die?”
There’s no such thing as someone deserving to die. But Amrita could accept that some people strayed so far from morality that death might be necessary for the protection of others. But how far from morality has this man strayed? Was it right to allow him to suffer without giving him a chance to explain himself?
She could feel herself desiring Henry’s wholehearted fulfillment far more than evenhanded retribution. The almost desperate need to see Henry happy was stronger than her circling moral conscience. It consumed her.
And she would genuinely do anything to grant him what he wanted.
oocAgh, this took a lot longer than I expected! And I feel like my writing doesn't flow the way I'd like it to, lol. Finals are making me lose my shit
But seriously though, if you want Noven to wake up soon, let me know.![Tongue :P](./images/smilies/tongue.gif)
She hesitated to be so direct. Did he really not understand? His incredulous tone sent her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach.
Or maybe he did understand what she’d meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to believe that these souls truly needed him. They couldn’t leave him alone. Not until they’d either realized the meaning of their existence or fulfilled their life’s purpose; both of which seemed to require Noven somehow.
Amrita shut her eyes with an exasperated sigh. Abu was far better at explaining these things. He’d been patient and tolerant, calmly listening to her blatant ignorance with that slightly silly tilt of his head as she spewed on about ghosts being unintelligent and insane. He would ask her questions to challenge her beliefs, and counter her arguments with logic and reason. In truth, it took her a long time to accept his entirely altruistic philosophy. How could she expect to convince Noven of such things, so quickly? She’d barely had experience handling ghosts on her own, let alone influencing their murderers.
There was no time to dwell on Noven and her own naivety. Amrita’s focus quickly shifted to Henry as he pummeled forward. She heard his target yelling from behind her when she jumped to get her partner’s attention, hoping that Henry would stop once she got in the way. He didn’t.
His vengeance passed through her in a momentary gust of freezing mist. It struck her like a million tiny needles, the cold pain surprisingly amplified by the experience of Henry’s own pain infused within his soul’s substance. Amrita shrieked as she fell to the ground on her hands on knees, tears flowing down her cheeks.
She was way past her breaking point. Not only did she feel like she was physically torn to pieces, but her mind felt torn as well. On the one hand, Amrita desired to free Henry from suffering - if only based on her ideals and pure instinct. On the other, she figured that the only significant way to help was to let Henry use her body to his own free will. Did that mean that Noven needed to suffer? He hadn’t said much of anything to plead his case against being a traitor. Why try and save him when it was clear that he was the catalyst for the passage of nearly every undead soul in the room?
And that was when it clicked: she didn’t have a real reason to hurt him. Despite being a killer, Noven had done nothing to justify physical punishment. Most of the ghosts in this room were murdered according to a reasonable sense of morality. As far as she was concerned, his intentions had been pure, even though his actions were far from it. The room rumbled in conjunction with her sudden realization, cracking her wall of unwavering resolve.
Amrita turned to see Henry drunkenly beat down his former friend, who oddly wasn’t fighting back. She could see the rage in his deadened eyes as he delivered every bone-crushing blow. It was strange to see such force in an ethereal form. Impossible, even. Especially when she could see his hands pass straight through Noven’s shielded face.
Trying to focus on something she could control amidst the near absurdity, Amrita strained to get back up on her feet, only to fall back onto her rump like a frail little girl.
Petch. She winced, groaning in utter frustration. The room full of ghosts stared blankly at the scuffle unfolding amongst them. As much as she desired to free their souls, Amrita knew that she meant practically nothing to them. Her relationship to Henry was the only thing they vaguely understood, but other than that, she was just another one of the living. The thought of her insignificance crossed her mind just as a shrill, feminine voice broke through the noise of the dead.
Amrita slowly picked herself up. She watched and listened as the sickeningly gorgeous young woman sauntered over to the men on the floor. Who IS that? She seemed to be a friend of Noven’s. But when he bolted for the wall and sent the whole room hollering in response, she wasn’t sure whose side the woman was on. She needed to know. She was through with this madness, and she needed answers.
“Why?” Amrita shouted across the room. “Why shouldn’t he try?” Amrita began to walk closer to the pretty redhead, both in awestruck wonder and burning curiosity.
“Why does he even matter to you? To both of you?” Her voice shook as she tried her best to stay calm. She turned her gaze to Henry, hoping that he’d hear her sincerity through his inebriated haze.
“Sweetheart, I want you to get the atonement you so desire. And you know I’ll do anything to help you. But why does he deserve to die?”
There’s no such thing as someone deserving to die. But Amrita could accept that some people strayed so far from morality that death might be necessary for the protection of others. But how far from morality has this man strayed? Was it right to allow him to suffer without giving him a chance to explain himself?
She could feel herself desiring Henry’s wholehearted fulfillment far more than evenhanded retribution. The almost desperate need to see Henry happy was stronger than her circling moral conscience. It consumed her.
And she would genuinely do anything to grant him what he wanted.
oocAgh, this took a lot longer than I expected! And I feel like my writing doesn't flow the way I'd like it to, lol. Finals are making me lose my shit
![Smoke :smoke:](./images/smilies/smoke.gif)
But seriously though, if you want Noven to wake up soon, let me know.
![Tongue :P](./images/smilies/tongue.gif)