[Ethereal Notions] Death Becomes Him (Cale)

[Hadrian]

Hadrian wasn't sure if Cale was warning about the so-called sweet whisper or ambition in general. In either case, he was still young and still figuring out what he wanted to do with all the knowledge he had accumulated, and the knowledge he would accumulate in the future, for that much he knew he would always do. But the next sentiment made Hadrian smile, cocking his head slightly. "I have studied a bit of the Flux, so I'm learning how the body and the mind to work together, but it is slow process." Truth be told, he didn't have the same knack for personal magics as he did for the more cerebral disciplines of world magic. To say that he did not apply himself, giving his all, to each endeavor would be erroneous. His progress was simply faster with disciplines that relied on an agile mind, while his hard work made slow but steady headway where instinct and raw talent were concerned. A teacher had once told him that, in the end, even personal magics were ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration, and that he could surpass even those gifted with a quick intuition to their magic if he continued to work and work hard. Of course, the math was infallible. And there was also the fact that inspiration was often more dangerous than the painstaking process by which perspiration earned advancement. "Perhaps I'll start spreading rumors that I can petch harder than a normal man, eh?" The vulgarity was not native of Hadrian, but he had heard others speak that way, and Cale had been a mercenary soldier. Surely he had a coarse sense of humor. He was, after all, referring to the wetness of a woman. Hadrian was fairly sure he knew what Cale was talking about. "Lisnar still exists," Hadrian said, rolling with the change of subject. He couldn't know whether Cale had gone back to see it or not, though he presumed so with all those centuries with which to wander. "It was a suburb of Treval in your day, but now... yes, it is an outpost. Perhaps if I feed you enough soulmist, you'll feel obliged to travel there with me and help me unearth pre-Valterrian artifacts." Certainly archaeology fell under the purview of anthropology, and Hadrian had studied both.

[Cale]

The ghost was silent for a long moment, obviously thinking, or simply staring at nothing, It could be hard to tell with Cale. Turning, the ghost eyed Hadrian before chuckling. "Aye! 'Tis exactly how yae' get the 'fairer' sex. Spread a rumor or two, and soodenly' they'll be followin yae' like sheep. Make sur'e to add that you have loads of coin, that'll get 'em reaaal good." Dragging the 'real' he gave the man a smile. Despite his serene expression, his mind was many thousands of miles away. Or more accurately, years. Alahea. Treval. He could still remember her streets, her people. The ideas and the proclamations of a new age upon the marriage of the queen. The 'whiteness' of it all. In stark contrast he had been to the Suvan capitol. A grim, utilitarian place of military efficiency. The sacrifice had been cultural freedom, and in return, Suva was the greater nation militarily. Working for both nations, Cale could remember the Flux that had been used on both sides. In the hands of a master, it had been a terrible thing. More often then not, killing the users as well as the victims. To think, nowadays you could just dabble in such things. Shaking his head, Cale gave a lopsided grin. "Arteefacts? Yae' should know that both countries had been run into the ground after decades of war. There is a 'reason so few 'arteefacts' have been found by your vultures. There issna' much to find. The old vaults are still protected by the .. constructs." A shiver ran throughout the ghost as he thought of those old centurians, still around, guarding what little treasure the Alahean state had left. He would never raid a vault again. Dead, or alive. "The flux is dangerous, even to a masta' user, as I'm sure you know. It's best if you don't know too much, ere' you use it in the heat of battle." Cale's thoughts where distorted. Half of him was screaming at his own fate. A third wanted to move forward, to make something of his new found liberties. A much larger portion wanted to continue his eternal wandering, to forget about these petty peoples, and their miserable lives. For that was what his had been. Combat. Fury. Lust. Greed. In all his years of living, he had constantly been chasing something better. Looking back, he could see that it had never gotten better. Only harder, only new challenges. He didn't foresee this changing simply because the world had ended. He wasn't sure he had the stamina to make another go at it.

[Hadrian]

"Well, I will work on that," he said, amused at getting romantic advice from a centuries dead ghost. He had reached new levels of pathetic now. The ghost seemed lost in reverie, though, and Hadrian just waited patiently. He nodded at the well-deserved fear of constructs. The Sahovan variety had tried to kill him either directly or indirectly several times, and he was sure the old empires had worse up their dead sleeves. "All magic is dangerous. The animation of constructs, the Flux... One has to treat the power with a certain amount of respect in order to survive it." He shrugged. "I don't use the Flux for martial purposes, but more for experimentation. But I will always be careful. Thank you for your concern." He smiled, amused that a ghost should bother warning him of such things. He supposed he was a boy compared to the man who had died and the ghost who had survived so long like a dreaming rover. When Cale fell quiet again, Hadrian gave him time. Surely he had a different relationship with time and Tanroa than the living did, but finally he dared a question. "Why are you here? Why haven't you been reborn yet after all this time? Was there some work you left unfinished?"

[Cale]

"Was there some work you left unfinished?" Once more, the ghost blinked. Just once. The single act wasn't enough to mask the sudden change of appearance the ghost started to take. Slowly, much as before, wisps of black mist started to rise from the shoulders. Shadow started to collect around the eyes, and for a long moment, the ghost didn't move. Completely oblivious to everything, reverie consumed him. Was there something you left unfinished?" The wording was different now. As well as the voice. Deeper, yet, at the same time, with a clarity. Gritting his teeth, Illiam tried in vain to raise his arms. The charred limbs refused to move. Every movement was punctuated with pain, and he could only roll on his shoulders while looking at the approaching figure. It's features were just barely contained within a white hood. Long black hair hung down to the breast plate. The armored figure moved slowly, leisurely taking its time while approaching the fallen warrior. One hand grasped a longsword, while the other held a torch in the darkness. Even this paltry light source couldn't mask the darkness surrounding the two. Slowly the mercenary tried to fight the pain, his hands and forearms where black, the skin charred to the point where just a hint of white could be seen peeking out from underneath. He was slow. For every agonizing twitch the battered limb made, the armored figure came closer. All the while, speaking a monologue to himself, as much as his intended victim. "I'd forgotten how resourceful your type can be. Never in a hundred years would I have guessed that you would get away with your sins. The endless sands do a decent job of hiding the stench of your filth." Movement. It was slow, but his arm had finally left the sand surrounding him. While his stinging eyes could make out bits of flesh amongst the sand, he was far beyond pain now. The euphoria had replaced adrenaline, and he could feel nothing. Nothing beyond the weight of his own head. It had become so heavy... Looking back, I can almost, almost understand what you did. For money right?" The figure was before him, yet the white hood still obscured everything. Holding the torch above them, the man crouched down, looking Illiam in the eyes. Yet, for such paltry a thing, to ... to kill? I guess, I'm not too far from you. I'm about to commit the same sin you did, yet, in the name of vengence... and justice. The last was an afterthought, and with a small sigh, the figure stood once more, looking down at the mercenary. Cale had finally raised his own arm in a defensive position, shielding his eyes from the darkness within the hood. After the longest of silences, the figure spoke. You, you cannot comprehend what you have done. Your only regret will be that you have not made enough coin in your miserable life. I hope, that one day, while you are wandering among the living, that you look back, and finally realize what horrible thing you have done. I pity you. This is why I'm going to give you that chance. To die, and be reborn to walk the earth as a shadow. To see, but never to feel. To experience, but never to become. The torch was held far from the two, at the very length of the arm. Yet, the sword was raised, in an off-handed fashion. The man's strength was immense to hold the sword poised over Cale. For a moment the two maintained their scene. A knight holding a sword pointed directly at the fallen mercenaries' chest. "You killed her. Words cannot express how I damn you." He felt the greatest of pains. Something pushed through his leather armor, ripping into his chest, and then twisting. Someone screamed. The scream in the ghosts' reverie was echoed within the small room. A shriek of pure agony ripped through the house, and then, in a torrential cloud of black smoke, the ghost was gone. Almost as soon as it had appeared, the cloud dissapated. A coldness remained within the room. The chill touched everything in the room, and it was a long, quiet moment before it warmed. When it did, something peeked out from the wall. A blackened version of Cale's face peeked out. Red dots stood in for eyes, boring into the room, and as such, Hadrian. "Live a' life. Do some bad things. Pay for it. I am cursed." Then, he was gone again, although, still presumably watching.

[Hadrian]

Watching Illiam Cale relive whatever it was that haunted him was haunting for Hadrian as well, just the faraway look and the ancient horror. He very nearly yelped at the dramatic disappearance, but managed to bite his tongue. When the chill remained within the room and nobody came to investigate the noise, he managed to get his heartbeat to calm down by controlling his breath, an old trick from meditation. If nobody else had heard the unearthly scream, and if he was feeling this bone-chilling freeze within the air, then perhaps the books had been right: once open to ghosts, one became more aware of them than others. He was eager to ask questions, eager to attempt other of the minor feats that novice spiritists undertook, but he had to remind himself that Cale was a person, if no longer quite a human. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I suppose I should have waited to know you better before asking such a question, but I figured you were dead and beyond such mortal concerns." Clearly not, or he would have shuffled off this mortal coil to be reborn several times over since his last life. "Anyway, I could make you more soulmist if you like. Or we could try some other things if you're interested. Spiritists are supposed to be able to ease a spirit into their body and allow them to share it for a time..." Of course, first Hadrian would want to see if he could defend himself against possession, then allow Cale in with the knowledge that the ghost couldn't hurt him in that way. He had been a mercenary, after all. Hadrian had met some good-hearted mercenaries, but they were still swords for hire. Ethics weren't always their strong suit. "Or if you need some time, that's fine. You can always come back when you need soulmist. Perhaps bring me some tidbit of information or something to trade so you don't feel beholden to me." Though, of course, practice at making soulmist would only help prepare him for other feats in the spiritist's repertoire. He looked around once more, trying to ascertain where exactly Cale was, though it almost felt like he had diffused himself throughout the entire room. Strange, that, but the laws affecting ghosts must be different from those affecting mortals.

[Cale]

For another long moment there was nothing but silence, and then a cough. For something that had once been human, Cale seemed... disconnected. Despite the rather violent turn of events earlier, the ghost re-appeared with a rather calm, if somewhat sad visage. At Hadrian's request, the ghost simply snorted and wrinkled its nose. "What?" While he had heard of possession, he had never pursued it in any form. Wandering seemed far more productive then draining himself trying to make someone move. He had done it once, trying to move a person from a fire, but had lapsed into an unconscious dream state for many months afterwords. Then again, he had spent most of the last hundred years in an unconscious dream state. It was so very hard to hold on. To... be. Shrugging at nobody in particular, the ghost eyed Hadrian. "I guess. I'hve' done it befah. Very draining."

[Hadrian]

"Well, if you're... drained." He shrugged. "I would, of course, make you more soulmist to build up your reserves. Anyway, I'm mostly curious to see if I could repel you. Perhaps another time, though." He realized, of course, that it was probably not a good idea to invite a hardly known ghost to possess one, even in the name of discovery and learning. But he had successfully made soulmist for this one, and he was a pre-Valterrian ghost. Who knew what knowledge he might possess? He at least wanted to form some kind of a friendship with Illiam Cale, even if the friendship was mostly about Cale getting soulmist. "Yes, another time. I'll be returning to Zeltiva in early Fall. You're welcome to join me if you wish. Pre-Valterrian architecture might make you feel more at home."

[Cale]

It was rather typical of the young mage. The dead mercenary could only roll his eyes at the ceiling. Language was a simple thing, and couldn't possibly convey the... surreal experience that had become Cale's unlife. 'Reserves' was a silly word. It didn't feel like that at all. More... like... with each bit, he became whole. As if solidity and form could be maintained if he had enough. Instead of answering the mage, the ghost moved forward, his form becoming more translucent with each step. When he was right in front of Hadrian, he stopped, and leaned forward, almost within kissing distance. It was a strange scene, the young man, staring into the eyes of a translucent imitation of a human. Unperturbed, the ghost used one word as a question. "Possession?" It was hard to tell if he was asking about, or if he could.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian attempted not to gulp when the mercenary ghost stepped up into his personal space. Living humans were rarely so close to him, and there was something strange about having a ghost there. While he realized they were having issues with communication, he wasn't sure yet how to rectify that problem. He wanted information, practice, wisdom, and Cale probably didn't want to be treated like a specimen to be observed and studied. But what did he want? They could not trade properly until that was laid out on the table. Hadrian had learned a thing or two about economics growing up with his merchant family. He stood his ground, though. In his mind, he called up shields and walls, energetic fields that would supposedly prevent a possession. It should work, unless the ghost was a master possessor, but Cale didn't seem in touch with the world enough for that. "You can certainly try," he said, chlorine blue eyes glittering with challenge.

[Cale]

Chortling to nobody in particular, the ghost slapped his knee, and gave a predatory grin, while dancing back a few paces. Giving Hadrian an excited wink as he rubbed his hands.... and then... he was completely still. The basics of possession had always eluded Cale. He found brute force seemed to work best. It was hard to describe. Who was he describing it to? A frown, and a shake of the head. The thing with possession was, that it was alot like materialization. Simple practices. Along with realizations. The first, was that he couldn't see. Not in the physical sense anyway. He simply... 'focused' and then he interpreted a vision of the surrounding scene with objects. If he didn't focus Cale found everything blurry, and incomplete. Much like how he appeared to others while materializing. Materialization required him to focus on a single object, and ... remember. To remember how it felt, tasted, and all of the other physical properties the living associated with an object using their senses. Possession was much like that. He simply had to 'focus' on Hadrian. It went a little bit deeper however, and required a rather.. delicate hand. The last being a thought. To take control of someone, required him to focus on the persons 'essence'. Viewing humans was alot like how Cale envisioned the 'true-seers' saw the rest of the world. He only saw.. impressions, and important details. He had to focus on the surrounding 'scene' to get an idea of how the person actually looked. It was all very complicated, and a bit silly in the mercenary's mind. His best chance at success involved inserting himself into the other persons 'impression' Rubbing at his head, the ghost seemed to pause, obviously still deep in thought. Then, Hadrian heard a shriek. It took a second for Hadrian's eyes to adjust to the blinding speed in which Cale had just dissapated. The only thing remaining was a black cloud of.. smoke. Then, two red dots shone from within the cloud, and a hiss was heard. Cale made his move, not being restricted by physical attributes, and not materialized, the ghost crawled forward, peeking into Hadrian's essence. Peeking wasn't really an accurate term, more.. smelled. The human was scared, but not in a way that Cale expected. Instead... he seemed... almost anxious. As if this was all a test and he was determined to pass. There Containing his glee, Cale could almost feel the boy's aura. Focusing on the thing, he tried to get a bearing. He could see/smell... Books. Lots of books, and words, and various magical writings. Then, they where gone. Blinking. Cale peered about. He could tell Hadrian was still in the room. Yet, Cale couldn't sense him at all. His essence had dissapeared, leaving the ghost stumped. Re-appearing before Hadrian, Cale gave a low growl. "Yae' dinnae' have anythin' too possess. Where you be hidin' it?" As if it was all perfectly clear, the man tapped his foot impatiently. Then, on second consideration, he rolled his eyes and re-iterated. "I can't possess you. Why?"