Madeira looked at the tall, rough hewn stones that marked the entrance to the Lapis Park and scowled. They were tall, jagged things, about as tall as an Akalak. The grey stone was shot through with white veins that reminded her uncomfortably of a map. Deep fissures like open wounds revealed the deeply purple crystals inside.
This was another thing about Riverfall that baffled the Avalad. Admist their ridiculous adherence to straight lines in architecture, their insipid, lukewarm fashion, their strive for boring, predictable perfection in all things, their fascination with nature was one more thing she just did not get. Every space not put to perfectly functional use was required (by law, no less!) to be a neatly groomed pocket of green. The three parks, endless gardens and several
menageries all seemed to be for people who fantasize about living closer to nature.
It seemed like all of Riverfall worshiped nature like nature doesn't want them dead. They worship it's beauty and forget that the most beautiful things in the world were made by people. Could nature paint a mural that bends your sense of logic? Could it write a song that makes burst into tears? Could it dig the gold from the ground and twist it into a mesmerizing work of art? No!
Of course, the last time she had been in a garden was in Alvadas. The infamous Garden of No Return had her dragging her disease wracked body through kilometres of hedge maze, running after an adulterer and chased by a murder, and spat her out several days later with a strange artist she had just met. The incident had soured her opinion of gardens somewhat.
So she scowled at the flanking rocks, and all they represent. And when a gardener passed and gave her a strange glance she scowled at him too.
Riverfallians. They're all insane.
It was approaching the ninth bell, and the park was mostly empty. From deep inside she could hear birdsong and the chattering of squirrels, and below that the babble of slow-moving water. With all the shadow activity this season Nessela had said that people were not be going about as much frivolous activity, such as walks in the park, as much as they would have that time of year. Which was actually quite helpful for their purposes. You didn't want people around while preforming an exorcism.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?" A kind-faced human man paused on his way out of the park, holding a hooked lighter on a long stick used for lighting lamps. "You've been standing there since I came in. Is something troubling you?"
Madeira uncrossed her tightly laced arms, pulling the cuff of her white blouse over the bracer crossbow on her wrist and busily smoothing the lap of her dark trousers. The rucksack on her back gave a mysterious glassy jangle.
"No, not at all", she lied smoothly. "Are you the caretaker?"
The man chuckled. "I take care of the lamps and Priskil's stones. The park pretty much takes care of itself." He turned the back of his hand towards her, so she could see the mark glowing faintly in the morning sun that claimed him as a priest of Priskil.
"Then you must know of the ghost that's haunting the park?"
"You're the Spiritist they hired?"
"Yes."
He nodded. "Well, yes, I do. She'll pop out of the bushes and scare the families every now and then, but she is a gentle soul. She just babbles to herself and seems sad and lost most of the time, poor thing. Hasn't hurt anyone as far as I can tell. You'll go gentle on her, won't you?"
Madeira squinted at the man like she had never seen one before. "You know", she smiled crookedly, "I think you're about the first person I've met that has ever spoken on behalf of a ghost."
He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a small returning smile. "I believe there is good in all people. And just because they're dead doesn't mean they're no longer people."
Well, she agreed with the last part. Madeira nodded to express her agreement, and looked back at the towering stones and what lay beyond. Gods, she didn't want to go in there. She'd get lost and never make it out. Or worse, there could be something much more dangerous than ghosts in there.
"Good luck on your business, Spiritist. May hope light the darkness in your path", the priest blessed her, and turned to leave.
"Goodbye, Priest. Stay out of the shadows."
"Always do, m'dear. Always do."
Then he was gone, and she was once again alone in the park entrance as the world got lighter around her. She couldn't stay there much longer. If she wanted to finish the exorcism before the brave few who wanted to leisure in the sun she had to start quick and find the bloody ghost. Madeira stood there gathering her resolve for one tick.
Two tick.
Three tick.
Dammit.
Muttering darkly to herself she rolled up her right sleeve and dug a souldart out of her wrist bracer. With a precise jab she nicked one of blueish veins that ran through her pale skin like marble. With gentle pressing she managed to coax the gory ink from her body and with it drew a lopsided sixteen point star in her palm. Now, who should she call to help? Not Emma. The girl was too delicate for an exorcism. Jomi? He was possible to control if she held the long arm of retribution over his head, but her uneasiness might prove too delectable a bait for him to pass up.
Hurik? This she pondered. The man was braver than Emma and more loyal than Jomi, yet he was unpredictable. While she could count on Emma getting spooked and fleeing, and count of Jomi to throw her to the wolves, she never knew what her newest servant would ever do in any given situation. Well, she had never had him on an exorcism before. Maybe now was the time to test it out.
Closing her fist over the painted star, she focused on the gold ring that sat resplendent on her third finger. Inside she could feel the pull of Hurik's soulmist. She focused on that, on the tiny sliver of the ghost, and used the blood circle to open its connection to the greater whole. She fed it power from her own soul, until the pull doubled, tripled, and became an irrisiatble force dragging the ghost across the space separating it from its mists.
Once she had her big, angry, red-bearded servant focused in her mind, she called him by name.
"Hurik!"
This was another thing about Riverfall that baffled the Avalad. Admist their ridiculous adherence to straight lines in architecture, their insipid, lukewarm fashion, their strive for boring, predictable perfection in all things, their fascination with nature was one more thing she just did not get. Every space not put to perfectly functional use was required (by law, no less!) to be a neatly groomed pocket of green. The three parks, endless gardens and several
menageries all seemed to be for people who fantasize about living closer to nature.
It seemed like all of Riverfall worshiped nature like nature doesn't want them dead. They worship it's beauty and forget that the most beautiful things in the world were made by people. Could nature paint a mural that bends your sense of logic? Could it write a song that makes burst into tears? Could it dig the gold from the ground and twist it into a mesmerizing work of art? No!
Of course, the last time she had been in a garden was in Alvadas. The infamous Garden of No Return had her dragging her disease wracked body through kilometres of hedge maze, running after an adulterer and chased by a murder, and spat her out several days later with a strange artist she had just met. The incident had soured her opinion of gardens somewhat.
So she scowled at the flanking rocks, and all they represent. And when a gardener passed and gave her a strange glance she scowled at him too.
Riverfallians. They're all insane.
It was approaching the ninth bell, and the park was mostly empty. From deep inside she could hear birdsong and the chattering of squirrels, and below that the babble of slow-moving water. With all the shadow activity this season Nessela had said that people were not be going about as much frivolous activity, such as walks in the park, as much as they would have that time of year. Which was actually quite helpful for their purposes. You didn't want people around while preforming an exorcism.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?" A kind-faced human man paused on his way out of the park, holding a hooked lighter on a long stick used for lighting lamps. "You've been standing there since I came in. Is something troubling you?"
Madeira uncrossed her tightly laced arms, pulling the cuff of her white blouse over the bracer crossbow on her wrist and busily smoothing the lap of her dark trousers. The rucksack on her back gave a mysterious glassy jangle.
"No, not at all", she lied smoothly. "Are you the caretaker?"
The man chuckled. "I take care of the lamps and Priskil's stones. The park pretty much takes care of itself." He turned the back of his hand towards her, so she could see the mark glowing faintly in the morning sun that claimed him as a priest of Priskil.
"Then you must know of the ghost that's haunting the park?"
"You're the Spiritist they hired?"
"Yes."
He nodded. "Well, yes, I do. She'll pop out of the bushes and scare the families every now and then, but she is a gentle soul. She just babbles to herself and seems sad and lost most of the time, poor thing. Hasn't hurt anyone as far as I can tell. You'll go gentle on her, won't you?"
Madeira squinted at the man like she had never seen one before. "You know", she smiled crookedly, "I think you're about the first person I've met that has ever spoken on behalf of a ghost."
He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a small returning smile. "I believe there is good in all people. And just because they're dead doesn't mean they're no longer people."
Well, she agreed with the last part. Madeira nodded to express her agreement, and looked back at the towering stones and what lay beyond. Gods, she didn't want to go in there. She'd get lost and never make it out. Or worse, there could be something much more dangerous than ghosts in there.
"Good luck on your business, Spiritist. May hope light the darkness in your path", the priest blessed her, and turned to leave.
"Goodbye, Priest. Stay out of the shadows."
"Always do, m'dear. Always do."
Then he was gone, and she was once again alone in the park entrance as the world got lighter around her. She couldn't stay there much longer. If she wanted to finish the exorcism before the brave few who wanted to leisure in the sun she had to start quick and find the bloody ghost. Madeira stood there gathering her resolve for one tick.
Two tick.
Three tick.
Dammit.
Muttering darkly to herself she rolled up her right sleeve and dug a souldart out of her wrist bracer. With a precise jab she nicked one of blueish veins that ran through her pale skin like marble. With gentle pressing she managed to coax the gory ink from her body and with it drew a lopsided sixteen point star in her palm. Now, who should she call to help? Not Emma. The girl was too delicate for an exorcism. Jomi? He was possible to control if she held the long arm of retribution over his head, but her uneasiness might prove too delectable a bait for him to pass up.
Hurik? This she pondered. The man was braver than Emma and more loyal than Jomi, yet he was unpredictable. While she could count on Emma getting spooked and fleeing, and count of Jomi to throw her to the wolves, she never knew what her newest servant would ever do in any given situation. Well, she had never had him on an exorcism before. Maybe now was the time to test it out.
Closing her fist over the painted star, she focused on the gold ring that sat resplendent on her third finger. Inside she could feel the pull of Hurik's soulmist. She focused on that, on the tiny sliver of the ghost, and used the blood circle to open its connection to the greater whole. She fed it power from her own soul, until the pull doubled, tripled, and became an irrisiatble force dragging the ghost across the space separating it from its mists.
Once she had her big, angry, red-bearded servant focused in her mind, she called him by name.
"Hurik!"
