Completed [Maiden District, Apartments] On the Topic of Ghosts

[Isolde Seibold]

Very unhappy now, the Nuit folded her arms across her chest as if chilly, hunkering down. She gnawed at her lower lip, staring at the table for a long couple of ticks, thinking, thinking... but she had to answer his questions now, right? She couldn't think what else to do; she was having a hard time thinking at all. His words had muddled her mind. Send them to Lhex? Exorcise them? If that was the way to help them, then why did it feel cruel to her? Even-- even hypocritical?

She knew why she felt like the latter. Because the Nuit herself was undead, trapped in this life long after she should have died and moved on. Wynry leapt through Isolde's mind, a couple of contrasting images clashing before her eyes in a sickening way: Wynry, smiling and laughing, eyes bright blue, and she turned and raced away with her arms outstretched like a bird's wings, hair flowing... Wynry, lying still and dead on the cold stone floor, a dirty cloth covering her face, arms awkward and unmoving tucked to her sides, and purple bruises standing clear and horrifying against the waxy skin of her pale throat.

The Nuit herself was not going to give up her life and move on. There were things she still had to do to make up for her sins. How could she expect those girls to go...?

But what if it was the only way that they could be happy? For them to be at peace?

But who was she to force it upon them?

The questions swirled in her mind; she put a hand to her face, suddenly tired. This conversation --so short-- was already not conforming to her expectations. She had thought there could be something she could do for them... other than sending them away. How could there be no other alternative?

Still uncertain whether or not she should be telling him, but thinking she needed to to continue the conversation, Isolde sighed out, "Th-They attack people. Well. Th-The older one does. Sh-She attacked me for being-- being what I am." The chakrams whirred and buzzed through Isolde's mind, and in her head they didn't stop inches from her throat but kept going, slicing and dicing her body into a messy pulp. She shuddered, huddling even further in on herself, obviously miserable. "She th-thinks that it's o-okay to hurt p-people who she th-thinks are bad-- like slavers or murderers. I d-don't really kn-know if she's actually-- actually killed anyone--" It was hard for her to force out the word. "--B-But I th-think... it's pretty l-likely she has. A-And her l-little sister... she really looks up to her. Soon enough, she'll be like-- like the older one. Remorseless when it comes to her twisted sense of j-justice."

Gods, Isolde felt like crap, saying that. But it was true. She had already seen the beginnings of it. Kouri convincing Rena that what she was doing was right. And the Nuit had said nothing, keeping her thoughts to herself. Perhaps she should have handled it differently, challenged Kouri-- but she had just been so afraid of displeasing her, and bringing down the girl's wrath.

[Anders]

Anders noticed that Isolde was growing less and less comfortable in their conversation; she was starting to look very reserved and vulnerable. Still, he couldn't bring himself to warm his tone or facial expression. The politeness that seemed welcoming and understanding before just seemed sterile and distant now.

He had, in his time as a spiritist, heard the most depressing of tragedies and the most infuriating of injustices. It was part of life and certainly it appeared to be part of death. It was hard, now, for him to feel any special sense of sympathy for these unknown characters in Isolde's story. On top of everything he learned to separate his emotions from his work. He didn't know many other spiritists but Anders assumed that most spiritists did this.

The final barrier to any real concession was the obvious fact that he was still talking to a Nuit. He wasn't going to put his reputation and his life on the line for a stranger who wasn't even technically alive. He didn't want to believe that he harbored any sort of preconceptions about a certain race but in the city of the pious knights there was just a certain...attitude toward the "lesser" races. And unfortunately, in the self righteous city of Syliras, nuit were even below members of this group, races like the dhani or symenestras.

The ethaefal wasn't being purposely bigoted, but the indignant air came about subconsciously. "Well, if she has killed someone then the knights must be notified..." He gave her a cautious, sideways, squinting glance as he reached for his glass and took a sip. "My very freedom and my right to practice my craft depends on it. I can't have it get out that I kept such a secret from the knights. But telling me all of this, you've now implicated me."

Anders then had a very sudden surge of curiosity. He had witnessed loved ones fail to realize that a loved one was better off in Lhex's judgment than as a deranged ghost; he had seen people to worried about their passed loved ones to allow something such as an exorcism. He had even come across those who were too afraid to allow him to stand up to a ghost on their behalf. This situation, however, was truly surprising. He wasn't sure how a nuit had become so passionate about anything let alone two random creatures.

"Isolde, why are you so concerned about this, anyway?"

[Isolde Seibold]

"Well, if she has killed someone then the knights must be notified... My very freedom and my right to practice my craft depends on it. I can't have it get out that I kept such a secret from the knights. But telling me all of this, you've now implicated me."

The Nuit shook her head softly, but somehow the gesture came off as a concession, not a denial. "I-- I can't stop you," she said, though her tone struggled to remain light. She rubbed a hand at her face, and tried not to let how upset she really was show. She was supposed to help these girls, she had come here to do that. She hadn't come to force them to-- well, to die. To move on. She couldn't do that to them, could she? No. It would be like destroying them, wouldn't it? Sure, their souls would move on, into the next life-- but the two little girls she had known, Kouri and Rena, would practically be gone forever. Like how Wynry was gone, and Vaughn, and even Kale. Isolde's family, all her brothers, her parents, her old friends... all of them gone, and they would never come back to her. Like how the ghost girls' parents were gone from them. They only had each other as far as she knew. Each other... and maybe her. They trusted her, didn't they? Yes, they did; Kouri would not have let Isolde walk Rena home --the two of them alone-- if she had not trusted the Nuit to take care of her sister. She couldn't betray that trust... she couldn't force them away when they didn't want to go. But if there was no other way-- then what else could she do? She didn't know what to do...

"Isolde, why are you so concerned about this, anyway?"

The Nuit glanced over at the Spiritist, brow furrowed, blue eyes tired beyond all measure, the paint under her eyes standing out very darkly. She tried not to let the hurt into her voice when she responded; how could she expect him to think that she might actually care about the girls? She couldn't. She was a Nuit. A terrible person, a horrid body-snatcher. She was supposed to be evil; she was evil, she couldn't deny that, practically a monster. No, she couldn't blame him for wanting to know her motivations, for not trusting her. Sometimes she could barely trust herself. "B-Believe it or not, I care about them. I w-want them to be healthy, happy... And I d-don't want them to hurt anybody, or get hurt th-themselves. Th-There's already too much hurt in the world-- they d-don't need to suffer from it, as well. I-Is that wr-wrong of me?" The question was almost belligerent, her tone hardening by a degree... and then she sighed, slumping forward, huddling in as if cold. No, this meeting had not gone how she thought it might. She had thought it would clear up her questions, give her an idea where to start to help the girls. It only made her doubt herself.

She wanted to be angry at Anders, but couldn't bring herself to do it. He was only telling her what he knew, what she had asked. She couldn't blame him if the answers weren't the ones she had prayed for. Finally she drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly, saying, "I-I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful to you for your help. I'm just-- just disappointed. I r-really thought I c-could h-help them." Her voice trembled, and she looked down again, taking a deep breath, angry at herself, too, that she had thought that she might have been able make things better. She shouldn't have wasted her hope.

OOCSorry for all the depression; she gets like this sometimes. ^^'

[Anders]

Anders recognized the dejected posture in the nuit across from him. Her face somehow looked worn even for that of a walking corpse. She had come here for help and clearly, he had offered none. None that she felt she could use, anyway. Whatever it was that she wanted from him, and he had started to figure out what she wanted but there was no way he was simply going to help a dangerous ghost just continue existing as a dangerous ghost, she sure as shyke hadn't received it from him.

Despite everything, for this one simple fact, Anders felt like he had been failing in his profession. Someone needed help with a ghost and he was failing to help her. The fact that she was a nuit was exceptionally peculiar, it wasn't invalidating.

So what was he to do? He couldn't accept an irresponsible amount of risk; not as an ethaefal in this human city and its brutal penal system. But if he attempted to help this ghost move on, that was a responsible deed, was it not? Surely the knights couldn't punish him too harshly for trying to ply his trade for the good of the city! Perhaps expulsion would be as far as a possible punishment could range. It was certainly better than say...a beheading with no trial.

"Look," he tipped his head down and finally conceded. His voice was soft but his face was stern, showing the gravity with which he held the matter. He wanted to help her and he wanted to do it in a way that softened her spirit. On the other hand, he wanted to make sure that she wasn't taking his gesture lightly. She needed to understand the grave consequences to which he would be making himself vulnerable.

"If you tell me how to meet with this ghost, I will do what I can to guide her in such as way as to help her find peace. I will help her to happily and voluntarily move on to the next stage of her existence. But here is the problem I see. You seem to have come to me hoping for some advice as to how this ghost can continue evading the attention of the authorities, perhaps how she can continue going about her business...maybe hurting the random civilian every now and then...all while remain unnoticed. Unfortunately, I don't work with vigilante solutions and I don't work in some secret subculture of the supernatural world. I work in a city known as Syliras where there are Knights whose job it is to protect us all from threats. Tell me where to find these ghosts and I will do everything in my power to help them."

OOCNo worries, its what I love about your character in this introduction! Besides, Anders is very much not giving her what she wanted anyway.

[Isolde Seibold]

A strange mix of anger and trepidation entered the Nuit's features, and she looked sharply over at Anders, curling her thin, pale fingers into a small fist. "Listen. I don't want to help these girls get away with whatever it is they're doing. No! I want to help them stop doing it altogether. I don't relish the th-thought of them h-hurting people, and I certainly wouldn't want them to go around doing it, no matter the sort of people they attack. Them killing criminals --or at least, people they believe to be criminals, who they think "deserve" it-- isn't a valid excuse for their behavior and it never should be. Hurting people simply because they're "bad" isn't the answer to make this city a better place; helping them is. Or at least leaving them to be dealt with by the Knights. That is precisely why I want to help these girls. I'd thought maybe you could give me a way to-- to, I don't know, to fix them, to mend their broken psyche. Not tear them down, or get rid of them. They deserve a chance as much as the people they hurt. Though from what you've said so far, helping them in the way that I had hoped isn't really an option."

Her words came to a sudden halt, the sheer amount delivered seeming to strain her for a moment, her fingers uncurling and then twisting once more into a tight fist.

And then the last of he'd said seemed to dawn on her, and she found herself shaking her head, something like fear dawning in her eyes. "Y-You have to u-understand--" She looked about ready to reach out a hand to grab his arm, but seemed to think better of it and retracted her limb to her side once more. "I d-don't think th-this girl w-would take k-kindly to-- to a Sp-Spiritist c-coming a-after her. Even i-if you h-had peaceful intentions. I think you might make her feel th-threatened, or sc-scared... and s-she would be as l-likely to attack you a-as t-talk to you." Oh gods, now Isolde had to worry about Anders going after Kouri and trying to what--? Make her move on? The girl would not listen to him for a moment. She would probably happily decapitate him with those strange, spinning blades of hers, and then go merrily on her way.

[Anders]

Unfortunately, Anders was of the opinion that this conversation had gone as far is it possibly could have. There was nothing left to say; the two of them had shared their thoughts and the spiritist had come to his conclusion.

"Isolde, I am sorry." His speech was flat and emotionless; the window for making concessions had closed. "I will be seeing the knights about this matter." He didn't feel entirely guilty though. In fact, he doubted that they would do anything anyway. "I am a random, citizen bringing forth an unsubstantiated claim about a ghost whom I have never even seen in the first place. They will likely ignore the entire claim but I will have to extricate myself from the legal dangers by informing the authorities."

He took a dismissively casual sip from the glass of ale. "If you do not wish for me to contact them directly, then it is all that I can do." He then took another deep, gulping drink from his ale, finishing the rest of it. "But please, Isolde, feel free to come to me again if you need my assistance. Come see me if you change your mind about them or if you have any other difficulties with the undead.

He stood up in a gesture to show that he would be leaving. At the same time, his manner was not rushed, he would sit if Isolde truly had some other need or something new to say in their conversation. There was a softness in his eyes as he spoke again. Anders didn't mean for it but it was a condescending, arrogant footnote on his conversation with her this morning. "Or even if you find that you need help with your own search for rest," he added. "Come see me."

[Isolde Seibold]

Isolde knew he was well-meaning. She knew that. So she simply nodded when he said that he would be going to the Knights, not looking at him; what else could she expect? That was practically the only sane thing to do. If she was-- was stronger she might have gone herself. But she wasn't. And she didn't know if she quite believed that there was nothing she could do for the girls. He had said that there wasn't, and he had spoken which such finality, as if there wasn't a glimmer of hope for them, besides exorcism. She believed him. And at the same time, she didn't want to believe him, and so the whole thing felt different. Odd. Off. Like she didn't actually believe him after all. But she did.

Gods, she was going in circles. This was going to get her nowhere.

She stood as he stood, not knowing if she should try to shake his hand or not. This entire encounter had left her with a bitter feeling like curdled sadness, and she hoped it wasn't towards Anders, who was helping in the only way he knew how...

And then he said it, causing a chill to thrill through her from head to foot. "Or even if you find that you need help with your own search for rest. Come see me."

Mutely, so suddenly and unexpectedly terrified that she physically could not force herself to speak, the Nuit just shook her head. Once he had turned to walk away, leaving his mug behind, she sank slowly back into her chair. There she stayed for a long time, flinching when the bartender came round to collect the mug. She felt incredibly brittle. Like anybody coming along could break her any second. Her thoughts were confusing; feverish and sprinting one second, struggling along, gasping for breath the next. Anders' last words tumbled around in the middle of her confusion and fear, causing the fragility that seemed so likely to shatter her.

What had that offer been? What the petch had that been?
Could he do something to her?

...

What could he do to her? Could he-- could Anders exorcise her? Force her to move on? She didn't know anything about Spiritists, what if he could? What if he could, and he had wanted to, the moment she'd come to him. What if he had invited her into his home, putting her at ease, answering her questions... and then had somehow surprised her, hurt her, or-- or-- or however it was done? Gods, what sort of power might he have over her? Or-- Or was this sudden screaming fear, was it all for nothing? Or was she just doing this because she wanted to know what it would be like to be Kouri, or Rena, and to have someone like him show up at their door? A Spiritist? Someone so completely terrifying because of what they could do. Someone to be so feared it made you feel like you would just fragment into a million tiny, shining pieces?

The Nuit was gasping for breath, legs pulled up close to her, arms tucked in, head down. People were giving her strange, almost fearful looks. Somehow she didn't care. That breakable feeling had taken over and she couldn't get it to leave. She needed to leave. She needed to get home. Safe. Alone. Safe. For a second, she couldn't remember where home was --she thought of the Outpost, and Wynry and Vaughn flashed into her head-- and she grew all the more panicked. And then she remembered, and she went wobbling out into the street, grasping her hands to her chest, to her heaving lungs, unable to catch the breath that she didn't even need to survive.

OOCEnd scene. A bit of a panic attack. Nothing to worry about.

Anders, needless to say, you freaked her out with that parting statement.

[Emblem]

Congratulations! You Get Glorious Experience! Isolde Skill Points Earned Rhetoric 2 XP Storytelling 1 XP Lore Earned Searching for Help All the Wrong Answers A Troublesome Goodbye Anders, Spiritist Other Shenanigans: Anders Skill Points Earned Rhetoric 2 XP Observation 1 XP Lore Earned Dispensing Advice Isolde, Nuit A Troublesome Goodbye Other Shenanigans: Comments : Good thread guys, shoot me a PM with any questions, concerns, compliments, or insults!