Solo What They Left Behind

A story of loss.

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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.

What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 30th, 2017, 11:01 pm

What They Left Behind
40th of Winter
6th Bell

The heavy drapes, pulled tight against the enroaching dawn, moved in the still air. In her bed in the Craven manor, Madeira stirred restlessly. A chill was seeping under her blankets; a kind of chill that cut through skin and flesh and rattled bones. The darkness hummed electric, and from beneath her eyelids skittering shapes moved in the fog between waking and sleep.

Her pale hand groped spier-like in the sea of blankets, looking for the wiry fur of her bonded. But the enormous bed was empty. Pulling the empty blankets to her chin, the Spiritist rolled to her back and slowly opened her eyes.

The creature looming over her in her empty bed smiled.

Lips, cracked with bile and need of water, stretched tight over crooked little teeth. Glassy eyes stared unblinkingly down at her, while the crusted sores ran with clear fluid in the corners. Little hands, pale in the dark, reached forward as if to stroke her, the nails peeling and yellow with disease.

"Good morning, Emma", Madeira croaked sleepily.

"Hi", the little ghost beamed, patting her master's cheek and sending bolts of cold shivering through her. "Maddy, why don't I sleep?"

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Alli sleeps. Even Bird and Spooks sleep. Why don't I?"

"Because you're dead, sweetpea. We talked about this."

"Raj sleeps too."

Madeira sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Across the room, hanging on the wall, was Raj: the snarling stuffed head of an enormous tiger. It's yellow glass eyes stared down at the room as if furious with everyone in it. It's bared teeth, gleaming an oily white, made it impossible to belive that the creature was ever human. But it was, once. The taxidermied head was all that was left of Emma's bondmate. Never once had the girl acknowleged that the Kelvic was dead.

"Does he?" Madeira asked, now fully alert in the wake of this strange development. "Emma, when does Raj sleep?"

The ghost drifted back as the Spiritist swung her feet out of bed and fummbled in the dark for the curtains. Emma's eyes drifted to the head and back, looking uncomfortable and worried.

"I don't know. Sometimes he'll sleep for days. He just goes quiet and I can't hear him. I want to sleep too. Maybe i'll hear him better in my dreams."

The greenish light of the pre-dawn gloom flooded the room as Madeira yanked the curtains open. The small, richly furnished space went to ruin almost the moment she moved back into her old room, it seemed. When she moved out at eighteen she kept it immaculate and private. But now, at nearly twenty, she had moved back in with a insane cat, a magic pidgeon, a damaged hyena Kelvic and several ghosts. Furniture had been pushed around the room by the bored spirits, the rug now sported several new stains and a long tear from the clumsy cat, and the powdered remains of a glass vase nobody had owned up to had been swept into the cold fireplace. It had been a very strange few years.

Outside the tall window, Alvadas was cold and bitter. Drifts of snow sparkled as the tip of Syna crested over the kealea mountains. Madeira's breath fogged the glass, but she stood there with her back to the distraut ghost so the little girl wouldn't see her heart breaking for her.

"Sweetheart... Raj is dead, just like you. That's why you can't hear him."

In the reflection of the glass, Madeira watched as the ghost seemed to physically stutter. Her form flickered, her expresion moving from thought, to something confused and frightened, and finally settling on a blankness that was somehow worse than both.

Yet when Madeira turned around, the little girl was smiling. The bright cheerfulness a paper thin shield for her tattered soul.

"I'm hungry." she announced.

"...Of course, baby. Lets go get some breakfast."

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What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on January 9th, 2018, 4:54 am

The servants were up already, quietly shuffling from place to place stoking fires and airing rooms. But the kitchen was quiet for the moment, as the manor slowly woke one room at a time. That was fine with Madeira. She set about making soulmist for Emma, appreciating the quiet.

A measure of gritty black flour, a single whole egg, a trickle of blood and a splash of milk made the fundamentals of the dough. She kneaded it between her fingers on the scrubbed wooden table. Then the pair stood in the enormous pantry and Madeira let Emma choose whatever additional ingredients she would like in her 'breakfast'. The ghost pondered this critical decision for quiet some time before selecting pickled beets ("its such a pretty colour!") star anise, ("look at all the little stars") and ale ("Papa never let me try his before..." ), all of which Madeira dutifully added to the mix.

She cut the finished dough into thirds, and rolled it between her hands. She tucked away two portions of the vile smelling concoction into a clean glass jar, the third she inserted into her mouth with a shiver of revulsion.

At that moment a servant came bustling in with a letter on a silver tray.

“Good morning, miss", the maid announce. Ignoring Madeira’s bulging cheeks and slightly greenish colour she set the letter down in front of her. The letter was unsealed, and used the thin, low-quality paper meant for people living in the house. This was either a summons or a job.

She swallowed thickly and looked up to thank the maid, but the woman was already bustling away with a purposeful swing of her skirts.

Madeira opened the letter and read as she worked. She was gently drawing the astral part of her spirit from within her body to infuse and transform the dough. Making soulmist from a living soul was a delicate feat. She turned inward and focused, feeling the dough slowly change into something a little less than physical through her body’s gentle coaxing.

Einar, Madeira

We have had several complaints about a ghost who haunts the Bizarre and harasses the shopkeepers there. The boy, who is reportedly human and seven to nine years of age, has been disrupting businesses and demanding the stores sell to him. Please investigate this matter and act accordingly.

Sincerely, Rune Caitiff-Craven


The letter was dated two days ago. A second note in different handwriting was tucked in the envelope beside it.

Please look into this. I am quite busy with studies and you are far better with children than me.

Thank you

-Einar


Madeira sighed. She has had her cousins foisting all the most unpleasant or least interesting jobs on her for years. At one time she relished the chance to do their work for them, certain that this meant she was making herself invaluable and endearing herself to her superiors. Now she understood what this really was; the spiritual equivalent of janitorial work.

"What's it say?" Emma asked, looking over her shoulder. The girl couldn't read. And now that Madeira thought of it, and neither could Jomi, and she had doubts about Hurik's quality of education. Maybe she should try to teach them.

"Theres a job for me in the Bizarre. Did you want to come?"

The ghost considered it.

"Will Roland be there?"

Now Madeira really did roll her eyes. Emma's fascination with that asshole continued to bewilder and frustrate her.

"I don't know, sweetie. It's a big city."

The ghost considered it some more.

"Will you buy me something?"

"Absolutely not."

"'Kay, I'll come."
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What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on January 20th, 2018, 4:19 am






Madeira stomped snow from her boots before entering the Bazaar. The indoor market was always bustling, but the cold weather seemed to have driven everyone in the city indoors. People stood elbow to elbow at the numerous booths negotiating, arguing, hawking. Shops were selling hot drinks by the door, and further in came the nostalgic scent of mince pies and hot, greasy stew. It was a cacophony of noise and a riot of colour. How would they ever find the little boy in this?

Emma drifted in with her, and was standing halfway through Madeira’s torso in an effort to keep out of everybody's way.

"You're going to give me frostbite, Emma." she waved the girl away with an exaggerated shiver. The market was much too busy and brightly lit. It would be hard too see a ghost in direct light, impossible to feel the chill of it's materialization, and even her sense of smell was useless. And the ghost at her side was flooding that particular Spiritist sense of ghostly presence she had learned over the years.

"But I don't want to bump into anyone." Emma ignored the dismissal and pressed in even closer as a man with a basket full of singing apples slid by them.

Madeira was about to point out that she couldn't 'bump' into anything, but thought better of it. Logic was not going to be useful here.

"It's Raj's birthday today." Emma blurted out as they pushed deeper into the throng, Madeira pulling her cloak resolutely around her body to keep what little body heat she could.

"Is that so?", she hummed distractedly, trying to see between elbows and listening hard for the ghostly child. It was Raj's birthday several times a year. Usually when Emma wanted Madeira to buy her things.

"Yep." The ghost was silent for a moment. Madeira wondered what she was gearing up to ask for, but Emma surprised her. "He's my age now.” she said. "He caught up. He always said he will. That he will be the big one." It might be Raj's birthday every couple of months, but now Madeira realized that Emma had never once announced that it was her own birthday.

"That's great Em", Madeira smiled down at her. "Now he can be the big brother, right?"

The ghost shrugged and looked at the floor.

"Now, I know that face. What's wrong sweetheart? Did you still want to be the big one?"

Ghost's didn't cry, not really. But there were things that betrayed when they were upset. Emma's form flickered as she picked at the scabs between her fingers. Her head was bowed, but Madeira could see the jut of her trembling lower lip.

"No, Emma, wait." she kneeled in the middle of the busy market path, inspiring annoyed tsking as people were forced to swerve and avoid her. She looked up under the mousy curls of hair to see the girl’s face screwed up in a kind of hopeless pain.

"Oh sweetheart, it's ok. Why don't we celebrate your birthday this time? It can be just the three of us, and then you'll be caught up too. We can have presents and play games-"

Emma vanished.

"Emma?" Madeira was thrown by the suddenness of the blink. What just happened? Why was she so upset? Madeira got to her feet and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Emma!"

"Oh dear!" A woman about her own age stopped as she made to squeeze by and took her by the elbow. "Did you lose your sister, or child?" Her green eyes were wide with concern.

"Something like that", Madeira smiled sadly.

"This is such a dangerous place for kids to get lost, it's so awfully big. Don't worry, I'll help you find her!"

"No, no," Madeira sighed, detangling herself. "It's quite alright, she's already dead."

She nodded appreciatively to the shocked woman, and continued further into the bustling market, now looking for two lost children.
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What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 28th, 2018, 4:44 am




After nearly a bell of wandering in the Bazar sick with worry, a high, childish voice cut through the crowed.

"Please! I can pay you back. It's his birthday!"

The steady flow of people was deflecting like water around a rock, creating a bubble of space around a merchant stall. Everyone was looking away and moving quickly, eager to leave the scene. Suspicion spiked, and Madeira fought through the river of people and broke through to the isle of empty space in the packed market.

"Em-" she gasped, but never finished. It was not Emma.

A little boy, with the glassy transparency of a weak ghost, was standing before a tobacco seller. Untidy black hair over olive skin and narrow eyes pointed to his Vantha heritage. To those with children, his clenched fists and soundlessly stamping feet was a sure sign of an impending tantrum. The Spiritist saw the angry snapping of his agitated soulmist and concluded the same thing.

The tobacco seller, obviously uncomfortable, fearful, and at a complete loss as what to do, was standing behind his counter. He was doing his level best to ignore the child and act as if nothing was wrong. His eyes roamed around the crowed of people staying well away from him and his stall with a force casual air that bordered on desperate.

"It's for my Grandpa! It's his birthday today and I've been saving up all season!"

Madeira stepped forward, and both males looked around at her approach. The child, eyes swimming in angry tears, was unperturbed. But the merchant looked at her like a drowning man might look at an approaching ship.

"Miss!" he shouted robustly and slightly too loud as he attempted to drown out the ghost's pleas for attention. 'Welcome m'dear. What can I geh you dis fine dee?!"

Madeira held up a quelling hand and smiled for the anxious man. “One tick, sir." she said, then turned to the ghost. "And what's your name?"

The boy looked shocked to be spoken to directly.

"Um, Vesta."

"Hello Vesta. Did I hear that you're buying something for your grandpa?"

The boy nodded.

Madeira knew the first order of business was to get him away from the merchant and the crush of people. Ghosts were volatile and the living feared them. The merchant was losing business and Vesta would get no help here. It would be best for her to get him away as fast as possible, and that would mean getting him what he wanted.

"Ok, why don't I buy it for you. Then if you stay by me I'll help you carry it out, deal?"

If he was shocked to be spoken to, he was completely dumbfounded to be offered
help. After a pause he nodded again.

"...Then you'll need to tell me what you want", she pointed out gently.

'Um... Yah, I want that. Please" he said, suddenly subdued, and pointed to a pale wooden pipe that sat on a little velvet cushion on the counter. "And Sywart."

"That's a very lovely pipe." she nodded to the ghost. "I'll take eight ounces of Sywart and the pipe. How much?", she asked the merchant, searching the pocket of her dress for coin.

"5 gold" the merchant said, half a tick too fast. Madeira was sure he had pulled the number out of thin air in the effort to get them away faster.

She handed over the requisite gold, and the man moved on autopilot. He wrapped the pipe away in a little cloth satchel, and packed a little leather drawstring bag with the fragrant pipeweed from a jar on the shelf. He handed everything over to Madeira, gave her a jolly and soulless "an' a good day to yeh!" and was not sad to see the back of them.
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What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 28th, 2018, 4:50 am




Like with Emma, walking with the little ghost acted as a buffer as people crammed together in order to give him a wide berth. But unlike with Emma, Vesta didn't seem terribly interested in standing halfway through her pelvis in order to avoid them too.

"What's your name, Miss?" he asked, walking straight through a hat stand and scaring the wits out of the clerk standing behind it.

"Madeira, It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same, Miss."

"So it's your grandpa's birthday today? Why don't you tell me about him."

Vesta's face lit up with a childish enthusiasm at the question. He stood a little taller, and spoke with a deeper voice he must have thought made him sound grown-up.

"He's called Terras Coolwater, and he's the meanest man you'll ever meet." he said proudly, throwing out his chest. "He likes to drink and smoke and he says bad words even though Grandma smacks him when he does. He calls me Big Man. He's promised to teach me to fish this year."

Madeira looked down on him. His eyes were agleam with a fierce pride, his lips curved with a smile full of love and self-assurance. He would have been very handsome, if given the chance to grow up. But her eyes were roaming the burnished colour of his skin and the eyes that no longer change colour, and something in her heart tightened.

"Vesta, what day is it?"

"What?"

"I've forgotten", she lied. "I can't remember if there was something else I had to do today."

"It's the twentieth of Spring, Miss."

"And the year?"

"Five-hundred and seventeen, Miss. Are you alright?"

That was nearly a year ago. He must have been one of the hundreds slaughtered in the Vantha genocide. Which meant his grandfather, his entire family, was either dead or had fled the city. And he was still here, reliving this day. She smiled to cover up the breaking of her heart.

"I'm fine, Vesta. Just making sure."

He accepted this answer without question, so sure he was in himself. There was a bounce in his step as he thought about this gift he would give this person he love. Madeira was so focus on watching him, that she saw the reaction on the ghost before she saw what he was reacting too.

"Why are you crying?", Vesta asked, his voice loaded with the sneering boyish assumption that he wouldn't know because he, of course, didn't cry. He was bending forward slightly to see under a table ladened with copper pots.

"Emma!" Madeira gasped. Dropping to a crouch to see under the table herself, though she didn't need to see the ghost to know the girl was there.

Emma was scrubbing furiously at her face with the back of her transparent hand, her voice was thick and defiant as she declared: “Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Guys!" Madeira put a hand on each of their chests, feeling the chilling cold of their stirring soulmist and the slight resistance of it under her hand. "No fighting. Emma, this is Vesta. Vesta, this is Emma. Why don't you come out, baby. We're going out for a bit.

The two glowered at each other from around the Spiritist.
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Madeira Dusk
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Posts: 1774
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What They Left Behind

Postby Madeira Dusk on June 7th, 2018, 4:12 am

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Person One

Skills
  • Rhetoric: 1xp
  • Socialization: 4xp
  • Cooking: 1xp
  • Negotiation: 3xp
  • Investigation: 2xp
  • Logic: 1xp
  • Acting: 1xp

Lores
  • Emma: “Raj sleeps too”
  • Emma: won’t acknowledge Raj is dead
  • Cooking: making Emma’s “special soulmist”
  • Lore of taking over Einar’s responsibilities
  • 40th of Winter: Raj’s birthday
  • Lore of signs of an upset ghost
  • People: Vesta the ghost
  • Spiritism: removing a ghost from a scene
  • Acting: pretending to forget

Awards & Retribution


Notes
User avatar
Madeira Dusk
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1774
Words: 1599220
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 11
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (3)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)


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