[Ethereal Notions] Death Becomes Him (Cale)

[Hadrian]

Late Summer, 510 A.V. The last time Hadrian had come to this place, he had met a ghost. That had be interesting, and so he was back to read more about ghosts and spiritism now that he had a bit more first hand, personal experience with the same. That first taste of success had him coming back for more. The siren song of knowledge called him back to the odd spiritism shop, so he went, found another book to read, and took it to the same chair where he had met the other ghost. Sitting down, he was soon absorbed in this different perspective on the discipline, written by an old shaman. He tuned out the rest of the world and probably wouldn't notice a ghost sneaking up on him unless it did... something... ghostly. There were countless names for the same things within a discipline depending on whose perspective one was taking in. Hadrian liked a kaleidoscopic picture of anything, knowing that all narrators were unreliable. One always had to make one's own decisions and interpretations based on experience and knowledge. That was what he considered wisdom. Though he was open to the possibility that he was completely wrong about everything.

[Cale]

He was beyond knowing, beyond conscious thought. The fact that he recognized this probably refuted the previous statement, but if so, it didn't seem to bother the shadow. He was alone. Looking around him, he beheld a white city. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the fact that it was called Syliras. He was back here.. among the Alahean lands. No, that wasn't right. The great fire had purged Alehea. Time had passed, and now the man was among a new era, among a new generation. Time. Slowly ember eyes watched the people go about their daily business. It pained him just watching, so he moved. Something had drawn him here, stopped his mindless travels. Something... new. So the spirit continued to find his way through the streets, until at last, he looked up. He couldn't take his focus from the light, from the area, from.. being. Hardly aware of his own otherwordly movements, a ghost found himself looking into an open room. As soon as he stepped in, an emotion overwhelmed him. It was as if he'd been living the last few years in a dream, and this, this was his waking. He could look down and see his feet, he could turn his head, and realize, that he had a head to turn. For a long moment, he experimented, trying to understand his body. To understand what he truly was. Yet with this experimentation, came memory. With memory, pain. While he wasn't visible to the naked eye, or even the trained eye, something changed in small dwelling. A thousand tiny pinpricks touched every living being's senses as the forlorn ghost relived the pain of his last moments. To the young man sitting in the chair, there was nothing to see, just an empty room. Yet it was unmistakable. A pressence was here, and wether malevolent or not, it reeked of pain, and regret.

[Hadrian]

As a repeat visitor, Hadrian was left to his own devices here even though it was also the proprietor's residence. He stayed out of the way, he didn't steal, and so he enjoyed a small amount of freedom there. The books were interesting, as well as the dead clientele. But Hadrian couldn't tell for sure what broke his concentration on the written word that had held him spellbound not a moment before. He blinked chlorine blue eyes into the empty room, but it certainly felt like someone was watching him. Vance had been visible, but he knew that most ghosts were not visible unless they made an effort not to be. He kept blinking his eyes, this time calling up his auristic vision and then... yes. He thought he saw something now. "Hello?" he asked tentatively. He was feeling a little off, but he told himself that the emotions were probably not his own. He would have to learn to shield soon because he was coming into contact with things that were beyond his ken and that would be a necessary skill. "I'm Hadrian," he said, because it had worked with the last ghost he met. "Do you want to speak to me?"

[Cale]

Noise. The emotion had stopped, he could clearly see now. The things he had been surpressing were starting to come out. His first realization was that he couldn't feel. He ran a hand in front of his eye. He could see it, but it was probably in his minds eye. Many years ago, he had realized that he was dead. Instead of actually coming to terms with it, he had simply started to move. To be anywhere but there. It had been his antidote, to keep moving, to keep travelling. Now, however, he had stopped, something had grabbed him. Latched him into this... place. The noise stopped, and he realized it belonged to a young man. He had never bothered with the living. Not after his demise. They never saw him, never noticed him. He could remember those first years, trying to help those enveloped in the great fire... Shaking his head, he banished all thought. Apparently, this person, and place, where special. Then again, everyone was. He took a moment to study the room. It looked to be a residence of sorts. Perhaps a home. He couldn't exactly remember how he had come here, but he was certain it was within a much larger structure. The stone beneath his feet made the man take pause. it wasn't cold. It was a long moment before the ghost decided to appear. He knew how to do it, but it had never appealed to him. He prefered to be alone in his suffering. The key was to focus on on object nearby. In this case, a small night stand. Placing his hand on the wooden object, he visualized his hand as it would appear in life. Then, there he was. Slowly the head turned, taking in the young man with the blue eyes. To Hadrian, the ghost made for quite a sight. He was only about five and a half feet, and quite skinny. Yet upon closer inspection, the long arms where bandaged from the fingers to just below the shoulders. The bare chest and stomach where covered in scars, and burns. They looked to be battle wounds. The pants where ragged, and the steel-toed boots looked like they where about to fall off. Yet, it was the face that caught the eye. The eyes stared from the depths. In the soft lighting they looked to be almost black. With the surrounding skin was sunken enough to collect shadow. Long black hair dropped down to chest level. Something was very off about the man's physique. He looked for all intensive purposes like someone who had been quite muscular, and then starved for a long period of time. With skin hanging around the arms, and bones sticking out just a tad too far. If he was aware of his appearance, the man gave no indication, instead looking Hadrian right in the eyes. "Wh't Yaoer' es' it?" The accent was beyond thick, almost indiscernible. Yet it sounded like he had just asked what year it was.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian was silent for the long time before the ghost spoke. He could See the outline of a man, the focus of djed, with his auristic sense, and when the ghost materialized, many of the blanks were filled in. He could tell that it wasn't a real body, but it was more real to him than it might appear to most because he could see its 'backbone', the djed that made up the soul, which was more real than flesh according to some. All the while the ghost was brooding, Hadrian waited patiently. If anyone was going to be patient, it would be a magecrafter. Their work required patience and precision in great amounts. He was working on both. He didn't even blink when it spoke, though it took a moment to decipher what he was saying. He even considered answering in the Ancient Tongue, but it was trying to speak Common. He was trying to speak Common. From the bandages to the scars, it seemed as though the ghost had been through a lot before dying, and surely a deal more since. "It's 510 A.V.," he supplied. "After-Valterrian. Summer." He gave the date, then waited for more.

[Cale]

The ghost continued to stare, and it became increasingly obvious that A. He wasn't going to blink, and B. He wasn't entirely sure what to do or say. The noises the other man made where very strange to him, and it took a few more seconds for him to analyze what was said. He was quite old. Yet he didn't feel it. He had been wandering, not.. experiencing Scratching at his cheek, the man leaned forward. Looking Hadrian over. Despite his current state, he still had quite a few mannerisms from life. Like how he wrinkled his nose, and chewed on his lower lip. His movements where awkward, and hardly seemed to fit. The arms hung limply as he leaned, and then, in another motion, he was leaning back, still eyeing the younger man. He spoke slowly, trying to ennunciate. "This plae' it is very ... bright to me. Why?" Then, he spoke in an entirely different language, hoping that maybe, just maybe middle common was still spoken. ".. and mayhaps you speak middle common, or even, old common?"

[Hadrian]

Hadrian was having trouble understanding this ghost, moreso than the last. Perhaps it was a very old ghost, so strange and out of it he seemed. Of course, most ghosts likely would be when they were new, still figuring out that they were dead, still trying to learn how to interact with the world around them. "Perhaps because this place is friendly to ghosts," he posited carefully. He looked around again, but there was no one else. The proprietor must have gone out while he was reading. "Perhaps..." The ghost spoke so strangely. Was that Denvali he was speaking? Not that Hadrian spoke Denvali, but from what he understood, that language was an old form of Suvan Common, evolving separately from the rest of the continent for hundreds of years, of course, and probably not so much as it had elsewhere. He tried the Ancient Tongue because, well, it seemed like it might work on this one. "Do you speak this language?"

[Cale]

For a long moment the ghost studied Hadrian. Then, with a snort, and a roll of the eyes, he threw his hand in a nonchalant motion. Sinking down to his feet, he sort of crouched, rocking forward on his haunches. Shaking his head violently, the man let his long hair reel about as he slapped the side of his head once. He recognized the ancient tongue for what it was, but he was far from an educated individual. This person however, seemed to be. It was also in his demeanor. Someone like this had probably never laid a hand on a plough. Still unblinking, the man looked up at Hadrian, and sort of waved his finger at him. "I donna' speake'e' the ancient tongue' anna' you don't quite unnnerstand' common, so keep it to your language eh? Nou, what you be? Donna' lookie like a warman, look like a book reader to me. Maybe a djed person?" It made sense, who else lived in a place that attracted the cursed? Eyeing the room warily, Cale hoped he wasn't about to become some sort of.. ingredient for a spell. He'd never really looked at his condition like that.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian had been known to attempt to outstare a cat, so this was nothing to him. He merely watched the ghost think, wondering about the process of thinking now that he no longer had a brain. Hadrian thought about details all the time, wondered at them long into the night when he should have been asleep, but he had yet to find a way to turn his brain off. Sometimes flirting with overgiving helped him sleep, but it required so much sleep to recover that it wasn't really a viable option. "Book reader," he agreed, nodding. "And djed person. Like Areesa Tallshade, well, except not so good..." If they were going to speak in less than perfect sync with each other, he would use whatever ideas came to him in order to fully explain himself. "And you? Who are you?" He might have asked 'who were you' but that seemed rude, given the circumstances.

[Cale]

Tallshade. He knew the name, and judging by the dubious look on his face, he knew of her demise. He regarded Hadrian with a rather sympathetic stare, is if giving condolences for choosing such a life. Then he leaned forward as he listened to the other man continue. "Aye? Me. Ai, am Illiam Cale." He emphasized the last by taking a bandaged hand and tapping his knee. "Leeda' of the Reapers. A mercenary. Was there when Suva anna Alahea fought their final battles. Tallshade died when I was quite young." He figured that was more then enough details to figure out his life. He couldn't give exact years... because he had never kept track. Rising to his feet in a smooth motion, the man peered about once more before regarding the man. "Magicman, you make the shinies?"