Solo Die Quietly

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

Die Quietly

Postby Madeira Dusk on April 16th, 2018, 9:38 pm

    45th of Spring, 518
The tea was growing cold in Madeira's hands, and her legs had long fallen asleep across the edge of the wooden chair, but she did not move. Beside her a tall young Akalak man fidgeted in his own chair, his eyes constantly flicking to the slanted beam of sunlight that fell through the skylight. They both faced a large bay window in the spacious sitting room that looked out over the harbor, watching the white capped waves far below as they waited.

"And this happens every day?" Madeira broke the silence.

"Every day."

"Same time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was another chime of silence. The Akalak cleared his throat and asked if he could make her more tea. She politely declined.

"How long have you owned this house, Reyansh?"

"I've lived here all my life."

"Any deaths in the house during that time?"

"My father, Ebrahim."

"Your family lived here?"

"Just my father and I."

"Mother? Siblings?"

"Never met her, and no."

Another chime. The Akalak tapped his meaty fingers together in an uneven, staccato rhythm, his eyes on the spot of sunlight as it moved slowly across the floor. Then, with a creak of overburdened wood, the Akalak turned in his seat to look into the back corner of the room.

"Here she comes", he said.

A chill set into the room that seemed to rise from the floor like a morning mist. The candles and lanterns set on nearly every flat surface guttered in their holders. Madeira turned, and saw a Konti ghost walking straight down from the ceiling like she was descending a flight of stairs. She was dressed in a long shirt and apron, her legs bare but with wool socks on her feet, like she had just spent a relaxing day in the kitchen. Yet she was emaciated. Her scaled cheeks were hollow, her mouth no more than a dry, open wound across her face. In her sunken face her blue eyes were wide and round like liquid marbles, their gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

She walked unsteadily but with purpose, with one foot in front of the other like the living did. She strode straight passed the Spiritist and her client like they weren't even there. Then in front of the big window she held her arm, nothing more than skin stretched drum-tight over the bone, out in front of her at waist height with her fingers closed in a loose fist over some invisible object. She tipped her fist, her eyes still fixed straight ahead, as a buzzing echoed from the corners of the room.

The noise was a burrowing thing Madeira could feel all the way behind her eyes and in the roots of her teeth. It took her a long moment to realize the sound was the ghost talking. The voice wasn't emanating from her materialized form, but it was her, whispering with a sound like a cloud of flies over a corpse. Madeira listened hard, and could just make out the words that droned on and on in an inflectionless mantra:

"peoplearenotgoodtoeachotherpeoplearenotgoodtoeachotherpeoplearenotgoodtoeachother"
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Madeira Dusk
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Die Quietly

Postby Madeira Dusk on April 16th, 2018, 10:44 pm

The Akalak sat motionless in his chair, his face set and firm, but an aura of uneasiness rolled off him in waves. If Madeira had not been there she was sure he would have abandoned all pretense of bravery and left. She leaned towards him and whispered.

"You don't know this woman?"

"Of course not!" he hissed back, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it, his expression closed and bitten.

"Hello Reygrath, can I speak to Reyansh again, please?"

"You can speak to me, witch."

Madeira let it go for now. She got cautiously to her feet and moved beside the Konti ghost. She waved her hand in front of the woman's face, snapped her fingers in her ears, and otherwise tried to grab her attention. The woman did not react, but stared straight ahead, her lips moving ceaselessly. The noise was starting to feel like an itch, like it was crawling under her skin. She shivered, and noticed her own mouth was watering like it did just before she was about to be sick.

Up closer she could see more details in the Konti's appearance. There was a wet spot on her thin shirt, and through it she could see her nipple was dark and swollen. Beneath her apron her abdomen was slightly distended, which was really only noticeable by her emaciation. But whether that was a pregnancy or simply malnutrition Madeira couldn't guess. Starvation had carved deep hollows in her collarbones and the space between her breasts. Her fingernails on both hands had been ripped off, and her hair ended choppily at her chin. Madeira wondered if she had eaten them.

"Who are you?" she asked, fighting the impulse to cover her ears against the noise. "What's your name?"

No answer. Yet after a moment her lips stopped moving, and blessed silence, the sweetest sound Madeira had ever heard, rushed to fill the empty space. The ghost retracted it's hand and let it hang heavy at her side. She watched the bay out the window, not really seeing it, then vanished. The woman blinked away, and the room suddenly seemed a little brighter.

Startled, Madeira reached out with her learned spiritist senses. She could still feel the ghostly presence in the house, but it was somehow muted. Almost as if she were inert.

Madeira and the Akalak looked at each other across the empty space. A sheen of sweat had collected on the Akalak's upper lip and reflected the lamplight. He was back to fidgeting with his large hands in his lap.

"Okay." Madeira nodded, hands on her hips like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Okay."

"Have you ever seen anything like that before?" the Akalak ventured, as polite as ever. Madeira realized that if an Akalak were to be possessed it would be impossible to tell.

A Konti died of starvation and is wandering your house like it's a completely different house in some strange pattern and does not respond to stimuli besides what she sees ratting around her own head and speaks about betrayal with a voice like a thousand dying wasps and what the petching hai was that!?

"...Ghosts vary wildly in behavior. It would be unlikely anyone has", she intoned thoughtfully instead, ever the professional.

This seemed to satisfy Reyansh. He sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, hanging his head. "That poor woman. What could have happened for her to look like that?"

Madeira knew exactly how, and she suspected he did too. Both their minds turned to dark places at the thought of her weak, hungry body. The bright spring day outside suddenly looked very far away. She shook herself out of the thought.

"So... What will you do about her?" he asked after a moment.

"I don't know yet", she admitted. "When does she come back?"

"She does this in the morning at the sixth bell, then again at the ninteenth bell."

"Then I think I should stay here tonight. Do you mind?"

"Only if you find your own petching food. I'm paying you enough as it is."

"Thanks, Reygrath."
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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)
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