"Jomi."
The ghost grunted in leu of a proper response. His concentrations were preoccupied with the shiny brass knob, now slick with soulmist, and the force needed to turn it. The activated soulmist danced around the rounded edges as he struggled to apply an even pressure on both sides while simultaneously turning the contraption from hell.
Suddenly very aware of his newfound audience, the ghosts efforts became more frantic. As a last ditched shot in the dark the ghost called on the energy of his soul core to activate the spent soulmist that covered the knob.
The activated mists contracted suddenly and the heavy brass turned with ease and popped open, much to the ghost surprise. Madeira breezed through the opening, oblivious to her servants struggles as Jomi bundled himself in behind her and filed that move away for later.
The twittering woman behind the counter offered to buy back the dress and was backhanded for her efforts. Madeira eyed her cooly as she lead the ghost to the back of the shop. A rattle of the knob confirmed her suspicions before she stepped back and gave her orders.
"There'll be a greasy little man on the other side. See if he'd be kind enough to open the door for us."
Jomi wasted no time, vanishing with a puff of disturbed air and reappearing behind the locked door, and was met by a meticulously organized room. It looked to be a storage room, rows of hanging clothes and wooden crates carefully lined with thick straw padding were pushed against the walls. Each one filled wth wrapped parcels and assorted cloth bags. A long table dominated the centre of the room stacked high with linen sacks and knick knacks organized by shape and size.
And bent over the long, dark wood table was a greasy little man. His thin blonde whips of hair danced around the emerging bald spot on the top of his head as he furiously scribbled into a leather bound book. Spread out in from of him was Madeira's rings, each one lined neatly with the jewel facing the mans pallor face.
The ghosts mists contracted together, each tendril woven tight against each other to in order to build up his body. The ghosts palm shone a deep red as colour and light flooded his soulmist, creating a unsettlingly [I]real[/r] approximation of a human as he sidled up to the man behind the table. He was so consumed with his works that even the electric chill that preceded the ghosts presence was lost on him.
"Those don't belong to you."
The man gave an indignant squeak of fright and jumped from his seat, his quill dropped and abandoned on the open book. Jomi noted the suspicious absence of an inkwell, and even through he had witnessed the fluffy white quill dancing across the page the feather had no visible ink. The words and numbers were still wet and glistening although they had no significance to the illiterate ghost.
The little man recovered from his fright, his face twisting to recognition and then panic as Jomi's face came into focus. "How the petch did you get in here!" The man stumbled backwards, his hand slipped to his back and grasped at the handle of the blade still tucked into his belt before he paused. His eyes became brighter, flicking from the ghosts eyes to his glowing red palm quizzically and back again. The mans face began to sink defeatedly as the Aurist began to piece together what bothered him about the strangers aura.
"You're a ghost."
Jomi was taken aback by the mater of fact statement. His materialization was flawless, no one had questioned Jomi's undead status since Dira herself had given him the bloodstone. The ghost halted his approach as the man began to stammer out his words rapidly.
"Lets make a deal, yes? That artifact you're carrying" The man pointed to his own palm with the tip of his switchblade. "I can find you another one. In fact you can have any of the artifacts here! Work with me and I can grant any wish you have, surely a ghost would need some assistance."
The man inched closer, his eyes shone with greed as a wolfish smile stretched across his lips. "Avenging your death? Locating a loved one? Anything you need I can find you the tools to achieve it, all I asked is that you work for me. A skilled ghost like you would be a valuable asset to our organization. I'll bet you could get into all sorts of places."
Jomi froze in place, his mind spun as he struggled to absorb the dump of information.
This was a artifact dealer, an underground smuggler of magical goods. And he was offering him anything he wanted in exchange for his services. If he worked for this little man he'd become stronger, fortified by a bevy of artifacts. Madeira's hold on him would be that much weaker, and Edith would be that much safer in his care. He just had to work for him.
The ticks marched on and the ghost eyed the simple wooden door behind them. Envisioning the irate master spiritist that waited impatiently behind it. He considered the offer with uncharacteristic patience, if he could placate her by returning her stolen things he might be able to return later without suspicion. And the ghost could weave another ally into his web of deception...
"...Nah, I have enough Master's to deal with already."
Soundlessly, the ghost shot himself forward, blinking into the man as he threw up his arm defensively. The ghost rushed to push his soul aside and seep his essence into the mans muscles and tendons. He curled his mists around his bones and filled the space behind his eyes. He puppeted the body with a growing familiarity, pulling at his hosts astral body and marching him swiftly towards the door.
The mechanisms were easier when piloting a human body. After fiddling with the keys Jomi threw the door open with ease, stepping aside to allow Madeira to enter.
The ghost grunted in leu of a proper response. His concentrations were preoccupied with the shiny brass knob, now slick with soulmist, and the force needed to turn it. The activated soulmist danced around the rounded edges as he struggled to apply an even pressure on both sides while simultaneously turning the contraption from hell.
Suddenly very aware of his newfound audience, the ghosts efforts became more frantic. As a last ditched shot in the dark the ghost called on the energy of his soul core to activate the spent soulmist that covered the knob.
The activated mists contracted suddenly and the heavy brass turned with ease and popped open, much to the ghost surprise. Madeira breezed through the opening, oblivious to her servants struggles as Jomi bundled himself in behind her and filed that move away for later.
The twittering woman behind the counter offered to buy back the dress and was backhanded for her efforts. Madeira eyed her cooly as she lead the ghost to the back of the shop. A rattle of the knob confirmed her suspicions before she stepped back and gave her orders.
"There'll be a greasy little man on the other side. See if he'd be kind enough to open the door for us."
Jomi wasted no time, vanishing with a puff of disturbed air and reappearing behind the locked door, and was met by a meticulously organized room. It looked to be a storage room, rows of hanging clothes and wooden crates carefully lined with thick straw padding were pushed against the walls. Each one filled wth wrapped parcels and assorted cloth bags. A long table dominated the centre of the room stacked high with linen sacks and knick knacks organized by shape and size.
And bent over the long, dark wood table was a greasy little man. His thin blonde whips of hair danced around the emerging bald spot on the top of his head as he furiously scribbled into a leather bound book. Spread out in from of him was Madeira's rings, each one lined neatly with the jewel facing the mans pallor face.
The ghosts mists contracted together, each tendril woven tight against each other to in order to build up his body. The ghosts palm shone a deep red as colour and light flooded his soulmist, creating a unsettlingly [I]real[/r] approximation of a human as he sidled up to the man behind the table. He was so consumed with his works that even the electric chill that preceded the ghosts presence was lost on him.
"Those don't belong to you."
The man gave an indignant squeak of fright and jumped from his seat, his quill dropped and abandoned on the open book. Jomi noted the suspicious absence of an inkwell, and even through he had witnessed the fluffy white quill dancing across the page the feather had no visible ink. The words and numbers were still wet and glistening although they had no significance to the illiterate ghost.
The little man recovered from his fright, his face twisting to recognition and then panic as Jomi's face came into focus. "How the petch did you get in here!" The man stumbled backwards, his hand slipped to his back and grasped at the handle of the blade still tucked into his belt before he paused. His eyes became brighter, flicking from the ghosts eyes to his glowing red palm quizzically and back again. The mans face began to sink defeatedly as the Aurist began to piece together what bothered him about the strangers aura.
"You're a ghost."
Jomi was taken aback by the mater of fact statement. His materialization was flawless, no one had questioned Jomi's undead status since Dira herself had given him the bloodstone. The ghost halted his approach as the man began to stammer out his words rapidly.
"Lets make a deal, yes? That artifact you're carrying" The man pointed to his own palm with the tip of his switchblade. "I can find you another one. In fact you can have any of the artifacts here! Work with me and I can grant any wish you have, surely a ghost would need some assistance."
The man inched closer, his eyes shone with greed as a wolfish smile stretched across his lips. "Avenging your death? Locating a loved one? Anything you need I can find you the tools to achieve it, all I asked is that you work for me. A skilled ghost like you would be a valuable asset to our organization. I'll bet you could get into all sorts of places."
Jomi froze in place, his mind spun as he struggled to absorb the dump of information.
This was a artifact dealer, an underground smuggler of magical goods. And he was offering him anything he wanted in exchange for his services. If he worked for this little man he'd become stronger, fortified by a bevy of artifacts. Madeira's hold on him would be that much weaker, and Edith would be that much safer in his care. He just had to work for him.
The ticks marched on and the ghost eyed the simple wooden door behind them. Envisioning the irate master spiritist that waited impatiently behind it. He considered the offer with uncharacteristic patience, if he could placate her by returning her stolen things he might be able to return later without suspicion. And the ghost could weave another ally into his web of deception...
"...Nah, I have enough Master's to deal with already."
Soundlessly, the ghost shot himself forward, blinking into the man as he threw up his arm defensively. The ghost rushed to push his soul aside and seep his essence into the mans muscles and tendons. He curled his mists around his bones and filled the space behind his eyes. He puppeted the body with a growing familiarity, pulling at his hosts astral body and marching him swiftly towards the door.
The mechanisms were easier when piloting a human body. After fiddling with the keys Jomi threw the door open with ease, stepping aside to allow Madeira to enter.
