Solo It's Crowded In Her Head

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 6:52 am

    4th of Winter, 518
The clock on the mantlepiece chimed eight times, and the cheerful bell tones cut through the quiet parlour of the Craven manor. Frode Varlet-Craven sipped from a flowery teacup in his boney, liver spotted hands and eyed his niece searchingly over it's porcelain rim. Madeira blinked sweat out of her eyes, her own hands folded neatly on her lap and her lips tight and bloodless. On the coffee table between them was a beautiful breakfast spread. Pastries and poached eggs and little fruits were artfully arranged with accompanying jams and butters.

"Drink your tea before it's cold." Frode admonished. "It's orange pekoe, I think. And quite tea-tastic! Ehe- ehe- ehe", he laughed his wheezy laugh and succumbed to a coughing fit.

Like a wooden marionette, Madeira obeyed with stiff movements. She broke down each step in her mind, and focused on following through.

Now you must lean forward, Madeira.

Now you must hold the saucer, Madeira

Now you must lift your arms, Madeira

The teacup rattled in it's saucer as she brought the steaming liquid to her lips. She sucked back half the cup in one pull, and the delicious taste of boiling orange seared her throat. She leaned forward and carefully set the cup down on the coffee table between them, fighting the urge to choke.

"How are we feeling now?" Frode wiped bloody spittle from his lips on a clean white linen napkin and sat back on the velvet settee.

Madeira opened her mouth to speak, and the dulcet tones of Vani speech escaped her blistered lips. She swallowed noisily and tried again.

"They're screaming, Uncle."

"Of course they are! I promised the first one out a jar of my finest 'mist." He picked a sugared croissant from the plate of delicacies and tore off a crispy mouthful. "Lady Renee seemed especially motivated.” he continued, dribbling crumbs into his curly beard. "She doesn’t like you very much, does she? Ugh! Raspberry." Pulling a sour face, he set the wounded pastry on the plate in front of Madeira to finish. She watched it leak a pool of bright red jam, her gaze unfocused and her attention inward-facing.

She was a ship at sea, her deck packed with a thousand passengers. They clawed at her wooden hull, ripped out her iron nails, demanding the sea come in and drown them. But she must hold fast. How many ghosts were imprisoned inside her body? Half a dozen? More? This was the opposite of possession, that trauma of the soul where a ghost submits the body to it's will. Fending off possession was child's play. After years of training her body was a fortress, impenetrable to all but the most powerful souls. But never had she tried to wall multiple souls inside her body. Turning it from an engine of siege to one of capture.
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 6:56 am

"Remember the three R's!" Frode waved a buttered crumpet at her, watching her eyes slide in and out of focus. "Repress, refocus, reveal! Here, have an grapefruit slice. There's a good girl."

He poked the dripping sliver of fruit into her mouth, and her blistered tongue recoiled.

"Lets see if you can find out who is wearing you like the prettiest dress. Come on, have a go."

Madeira closed her eyes and let herself leave the parlour behind to spiral deeper into her subconsciousness. It was possible with practise for a ghost and vessel to speak to each other in the privacy of their shared mind. But it was all she could do to simply tune out their soundless screaming. Instead she reaped their memories, dug through their skills, and fastened her soul to theirs to find out their identities.

"Lady Renee Kelling", Madeira began at once. The ghost was the most vocal of the lot, and the most vicious in her bid for freedom. Perhaps she was still sore about consistently losing to her in possession training now. The flavour of her soul was familiar. It slunk through her bones like a disease, pushing against the walls of her determination looking for cracks to widen.

"Emma Chamelle." Her own delusional, ghostly charge. The little girl had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Unable to say no to an adult, especially a Spiritist adult, she had been roped into this training. Her soul was familiar and comforting, the taste both gentle and confused. She poked ineffectively at the barrier of Madeira's soul without any real effort behind it.

"Yaxley Snowsong." The old Vantha was not fighting out but was one of the few fighting inward. His talent for storytelling was his soul’s most telling feature, and his bubbling Vani speech the most corrosive. He was trying to work his way through her throat and eyes, no doubt to take in her surroundings and ask Frode his endless questions.
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 7:00 am

As she searched their souls it became harder to differentiate between them all. Her reaping of their minds was getting shallower and shallower as they slipped through the pull of her soul. Her mastery of her own body was crumbling as she tried to corral them.

"Alexander Craven." A long lost relative with an enduring sense of loyalty. The young man was ruthless in his quest for glory, and it shone hard and bitter through his soul. He was not tactical about his escape. He was bashing against her weary soul with unending force.

"And... Uh..." she surfaced for a moment, her eyes sliding open. Her fingers were tangled into a bloodless fist in her lap. The steady drip of a nosebleed was painting vibrant colours across her white knuckles.

"And?" her uncle prompted, leaning forward over the table, his eyes alight and his lips stained with blackcurrant.

She was a ship at sea, holding herself together with force of will as her passengers endeavoured to throw themselves into the briny sea. Thoughts that were not her own were burning through her, and languages she couldn't understand were trying to fall from her lips. She clutched tight to her soul, lest she lose it in the madness.

Repress.

With a savage burst of will she tried to smother the noise and cap the rampant souls. Her living soul was stronger than theirs. She had to use it to force them down

Refocus.

She breathed deep and centred herself. She traced the edges of her soul and held it's borders against the crushing tide of foreign thoughts and feelings.

Reveal.

"I don't... I don't know who else."
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 7:05 am

"Ack! That's no good, Madison!"

"Madeira."

"You must learn control! They are beholden to you! Don't let them disturb your lovely breakfast. Go on, eat up."

Her fingers found the edge of the wounded croissant and she stuffed it into her mouth. The taste of blood and raspberries was a hot coal on her burnt tongue, but she chewed mechanically and swallowed. Half of her was present with her uncle as he prattled on about the skills she should know as a rising Spiritist, the other half was quite absent.

Control. She must learn control. But it was simply a matter of time before her hull smashed and the ghosts escaped. This was a test of endurance, and she was nearing the end of her abilities.

But she must remember, for the ghosts it was not a test but a game, and soulmist was the prize.

Groping for another morsel from the tray, she grasped the first thing her fingers found and ended up stuffing an entire cube of butter into her mouth.

She couldn't control them, not in these numbers. But if she couldn’t control the players, perhaps she could control the game. The thought lanced through her, and she smiled despite herself. Frode paused in his rambling and eyed her suspiciously.

"I will give you each a jar of soulmist if you stay." she croaked, her voice firm but cracking with the pressure.

There was a chime of reprieve as the ghosts stopped their attack in confusion. She could almost feel their minds turning as they weighed Frode's offer of Master level soulmist for the winner, with Madeira’s offer of slightly lower quality soulmist for everyone.

Across from her, Frode threw back his head and laughed.

"That's it Madeline!"

"Madeira."

"What's Spiritism without a little skulduggery!"

Madeira allowed herself a small spark of pride. She tugged her napkin from under her plate and stemmed her bleeding nose. Her hands wen’t shaking anymore. Renee was the only one putting up any resistance, and Madeira hardened herself against her singular attack. Without multiple attackers, she used her full concentration to wind her soul through Renee's and hold her own against the ghost. The rest sat inert and complacent in her bones on the promise of soulmist for everyone.

"But that's not enough", Frode picked up a jellied fruit and inspected it between his fingers. "If you resort to trickery you better make sure you're the best deal on the table." He popped the fruit in his mouth and smiled wickedly. "I revise my offer. First one to say their name gets my soulmist and my special favour."

Madeira 's hands clapped over her mouth as half a dozen ghosts flooded her throat and jaw. The surprise attack knocked the air out of her lungs and it whistled between her teeth.
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 7:07 am

Ripping her consciousness through the fray, Madeira sought the soul she recognized most and dragged it forward. She led Emma Chamelle into a graceful possession, pressing their minds together and mingling their thoughts. She let the child take her body and focused her own soul on filling the empty space and forcing the rest aside.

Emma tottered in her body for a moment, blinking with Madeira's eyes and flexing with her fingers. Frode took in the child's clumsy moments and her rather dazed look, and chuckled. Emma did not say her name. She was scared of Frode and comfortable in her servitude to Madeira. She merely  looked down at her hands and fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Well played!" Frode looked delighted to be outsmarted. "But what are you willing to risk?" He clapped his hands together, sending a plume of powdered sugar into the still air. "The first to choke my niece to death from the inside gets all the soulmist a Master Spiritist can provide."
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 14th, 2017, 7:09 am

Madeira turned inward and shut her body down. She found the edges of her form and rushed to fill it, flinging her soul into the empty spaces. Eyes rolled back and muscles jumped in her jaw as she grappled with the invading souls, pushing them away with the wake of her charging soul.

The air in the parlour popped and shivered as the temperature plummeted. The delicate plates and cups and teapots smashed as invisible bands of soulmist whipped them away. The heavy drapes over the windows blew apart, revealing high drifts of powder white snow piled against the glass. At once the room was crowded with ghosts. Old men and little girls, Human and not, stood around the room looking windswept after being forcefully exorcised by the gasping, red faced Madeira.

"Are you insane?!" she roared thickly through the renewed gushing of her nose.

"I've been told so, yes", Frode nodded solemnly, dabbing jam and sugar from his knees. "If you want to play the game you must be willing to lose! In this profession you risk death or worse. Never forget what you're playing with! Now look, you've gone and ruined breakfast, Maisy"

"It's Madeira." she snarled. The young blonde got to her feet amid the smashed porcelain and swept from the room, slamming the door closed behind her.
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It's Crowded In Her Head

Postby Allassanachassanya on January 28th, 2018, 5:37 pm

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Grade Rewardsss
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Madeira

Skills

Meditation: +1
Spiritism: +4
Negotiation: +2

Lores

Frode Varlet-Craven: Insane and a hard bargainer
Meditation: Using mantras to concentrate
Frode’s mantra: Repress, refocus, reveal!
Spiritism: Using your body as a prison
Spiritism: How to manage several ghosts in one’s body
Spiritism: Recognising Yaxley Snowsong’s soul
Spiritism: Recognising Alexander Craven’s soul
Negotiation: Offering a better deal, but at what cost?

Notes

This was a nice little read! I enjoyed the way you wrote Frode. In a way, I couldn't tell if his forgetfulness was on purpose or not- either way, it was a good way of showing the lack of respect the elders of the Craven family have for their ward. Madeira too was delightfully polite... apart from at the end. ;)

I'm afraid I didn't give you the full 5xp in Spiritism for this thread because you're at quite a high level, and the last couple of posts were a tad short. :) If you don't agree, please talk to me about it! :nod: I look forward to seeing whether or not Madeira will stand up to her family, and to her further exploits into the skullduggerous (not a word, but just roll with it) world of Spiritism.
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