What They Left Behind
40th of Winter
6th Bell
40th of Winter
6th Bell
The heavy drapes, pulled tight against the enroaching dawn, moved in the still air. In her bed in the Craven manor, Madeira stirred restlessly. A chill was seeping under her blankets; a kind of chill that cut through skin and flesh and rattled bones. The darkness hummed electric, and from beneath her eyelids skittering shapes moved in the fog between waking and sleep.
Her pale hand groped spier-like in the sea of blankets, looking for the wiry fur of her bonded. But the enormous bed was empty. Pulling the empty blankets to her chin, the Spiritist rolled to her back and slowly opened her eyes.
The creature looming over her in her empty bed smiled.
Lips, cracked with bile and need of water, stretched tight over crooked little teeth. Glassy eyes stared unblinkingly down at her, while the crusted sores ran with clear fluid in the corners. Little hands, pale in the dark, reached forward as if to stroke her, the nails peeling and yellow with disease.
"Good morning, Emma", Madeira croaked sleepily.
"Hi", the little ghost beamed, patting her master's cheek and sending bolts of cold shivering through her. "Maddy, why don't I sleep?"
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Alli sleeps. Even Bird and Spooks sleep. Why don't I?"
"Because you're dead, sweetpea. We talked about this."
"Raj sleeps too."
Madeira sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Across the room, hanging on the wall, was Raj: the snarling stuffed head of an enormous tiger. It's yellow glass eyes stared down at the room as if furious with everyone in it. It's bared teeth, gleaming an oily white, made it impossible to belive that the creature was ever human. But it was, once. The taxidermied head was all that was left of Emma's bondmate. Never once had the girl acknowleged that the Kelvic was dead.
"Does he?" Madeira asked, now fully alert in the wake of this strange development. "Emma, when does Raj sleep?"
The ghost drifted back as the Spiritist swung her feet out of bed and fummbled in the dark for the curtains. Emma's eyes drifted to the head and back, looking uncomfortable and worried.
"I don't know. Sometimes he'll sleep for days. He just goes quiet and I can't hear him. I want to sleep too. Maybe i'll hear him better in my dreams."
The greenish light of the pre-dawn gloom flooded the room as Madeira yanked the curtains open. The small, richly furnished space went to ruin almost the moment she moved back into her old room, it seemed. When she moved out at eighteen she kept it immaculate and private. But now, at nearly twenty, she had moved back in with a insane cat, a magic pidgeon, a damaged hyena Kelvic and several ghosts. Furniture had been pushed around the room by the bored spirits, the rug now sported several new stains and a long tear from the clumsy cat, and the powdered remains of a glass vase nobody had owned up to had been swept into the cold fireplace. It had been a very strange few years.
Outside the tall window, Alvadas was cold and bitter. Drifts of snow sparkled as the tip of Syna crested over the kealea mountains. Madeira's breath fogged the glass, but she stood there with her back to the distraut ghost so the little girl wouldn't see her heart breaking for her.
"Sweetheart... Raj is dead, just like you. That's why you can't hear him."
In the reflection of the glass, Madeira watched as the ghost seemed to physically stutter. Her form flickered, her expresion moving from thought, to something confused and frightened, and finally settling on a blankness that was somehow worse than both.
Yet when Madeira turned around, the little girl was smiling. The bright cheerfulness a paper thin shield for her tattered soul.
"I'm hungry." she announced.
"...Of course, baby. Lets go get some breakfast."
WC: 654
Her pale hand groped spier-like in the sea of blankets, looking for the wiry fur of her bonded. But the enormous bed was empty. Pulling the empty blankets to her chin, the Spiritist rolled to her back and slowly opened her eyes.
The creature looming over her in her empty bed smiled.
Lips, cracked with bile and need of water, stretched tight over crooked little teeth. Glassy eyes stared unblinkingly down at her, while the crusted sores ran with clear fluid in the corners. Little hands, pale in the dark, reached forward as if to stroke her, the nails peeling and yellow with disease.
"Good morning, Emma", Madeira croaked sleepily.
"Hi", the little ghost beamed, patting her master's cheek and sending bolts of cold shivering through her. "Maddy, why don't I sleep?"
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Alli sleeps. Even Bird and Spooks sleep. Why don't I?"
"Because you're dead, sweetpea. We talked about this."
"Raj sleeps too."
Madeira sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Across the room, hanging on the wall, was Raj: the snarling stuffed head of an enormous tiger. It's yellow glass eyes stared down at the room as if furious with everyone in it. It's bared teeth, gleaming an oily white, made it impossible to belive that the creature was ever human. But it was, once. The taxidermied head was all that was left of Emma's bondmate. Never once had the girl acknowleged that the Kelvic was dead.
"Does he?" Madeira asked, now fully alert in the wake of this strange development. "Emma, when does Raj sleep?"
The ghost drifted back as the Spiritist swung her feet out of bed and fummbled in the dark for the curtains. Emma's eyes drifted to the head and back, looking uncomfortable and worried.
"I don't know. Sometimes he'll sleep for days. He just goes quiet and I can't hear him. I want to sleep too. Maybe i'll hear him better in my dreams."
The greenish light of the pre-dawn gloom flooded the room as Madeira yanked the curtains open. The small, richly furnished space went to ruin almost the moment she moved back into her old room, it seemed. When she moved out at eighteen she kept it immaculate and private. But now, at nearly twenty, she had moved back in with a insane cat, a magic pidgeon, a damaged hyena Kelvic and several ghosts. Furniture had been pushed around the room by the bored spirits, the rug now sported several new stains and a long tear from the clumsy cat, and the powdered remains of a glass vase nobody had owned up to had been swept into the cold fireplace. It had been a very strange few years.
Outside the tall window, Alvadas was cold and bitter. Drifts of snow sparkled as the tip of Syna crested over the kealea mountains. Madeira's breath fogged the glass, but she stood there with her back to the distraut ghost so the little girl wouldn't see her heart breaking for her.
"Sweetheart... Raj is dead, just like you. That's why you can't hear him."
In the reflection of the glass, Madeira watched as the ghost seemed to physically stutter. Her form flickered, her expresion moving from thought, to something confused and frightened, and finally settling on a blankness that was somehow worse than both.
Yet when Madeira turned around, the little girl was smiling. The bright cheerfulness a paper thin shield for her tattered soul.
"I'm hungry." she announced.
"...Of course, baby. Lets go get some breakfast."
WC: 654
