Spring the 31st, 520 AV
Sometimes, the best alibi is not your own.
That was where Autumn found herself today. She’d finally decided to start her search for Maro’s soul. Several long nights she had spent at his side, doing nothing but stare at him, hoping he would show some sign of being him, but she and he had already been given one miracle in his return. The world showed no sign of granting them a second.
Yes, Autumn had decided to begin her search for Maro’s soul, and that meant looking into the woman who had brought him here.
Luthisa. The woman would have made Autumn’s flesh crawl, if the ghost still had any, but not for any good reason. On the surface, the woman was a saint. Luthisa had taken in the unwanted and discarded children of the world and given them a home, a purpose. She cared for them and kept them dressed and well-fed. Every need was met. And if anyone questioned what she was like in person, those qualms and queries were put to rest within the first few moments of meeting her. Hers was a warm voice and a warm personality, motherly in all the very best ways.
So why was it that Autumn felt so haunted by the woman? Perhaps it was the fact she had ripped the Maro out of Maro, taken Autumn’s dearest friend and stripped him of all the things that had made him who he was. Perhaps it was the fact that every child under her car lacked the vibrant wonder and fire that made children so… child-like.
For that reason, Autumn had decided she had to investigate the woman and her mysterious workings. However, having a malevolent spirit hovering about was sure to get Autumn noticed, and she was only going to be able to play that hand of surprise once. She wanted to make it worth it. Today, then, she’d have to approach as someone else.
While the living could develop personas and don disguises, no living being could “become someone else” like a ghost could. With possession, a ghost could simply slip on another person as if they were a disguise, ghosts who were good at it, that was. Autumn was not, so her options for hosts were limited. She needed someone weak-willed. Babies were easy enough, but they couldn’t get her to where she needed to go. Besides, Autumn wouldn’t risk bringing a child to Luthisa. Other easy prey included the extremely infirmed, those who were so broken by illness they didn’t care, but Autumn wasn’t so heartless she would force a sick person to make the long trek down the mountain.
Watching Luthisa’s interaction with several of her children, Autumn had learned that the woman was going to be headed down the path to Port Tranquil this day to see if there were any unfortunate children who were “in need of open arms” as she had put it. A pod of Svefra had come into port yesterday, and Autumn was sure this was Luthisa’s way of adding to her collection of soulless servants. A trip that long, for someone sick enough to make possession easy for Autumn, would be far too taxing.
No. Autumn needed a different host, a new prey, and for nearly two bells, she thought of the question, coming up with no answer to the dilemma. Who else could be so weak-willed, easily influenced, open to suggestion? Still coming up with nothing, Autumn began to wander the city, hoping an answer would present itself.
She practically stumbled over it when it did.
It came in the form of a man, asleep against the side of a house, but his had not been an intentional sleep. By the way his body was crumpled against the stone siding, Autumn figured he had passed out midstride, careened sideways into home, and slid down its side to nap off the much too much he had had to drink the evening before. He looked comfortably uncomfortable in the way only drunks could do, and Autumn could only imagine how sore his neck would be when the inebriate finally came to. He was half kneeling, sitting back on his feet with his torso leaning sideways supported against the stone by the top of one shoulder and his cheek. It left his neck craned upward and to one side in relation to the usual line of his shoulders.
This was exactly what she had needed, and she had found it without seeking it specifically. While alcohol only slight affected the will power of those who drank in moderation, it decimated the resistance of those who drank it to excess. He wouldn’t even know what had happened to him, and Autumn was sure that any struggle he put up she could easily overcome. She had every advantage.
With victory already won in her mind, Autumn sank her soul into his body, soul moving past soul to grasp for the familiar points that made it easier for her to latch on to the body. She found them, but there was something difficult about the entire experience, like wading through water when one was used to walking on dry ground.
When her soul was spread through the entirety of his body, Autumn gripped tight to every hold she had and demanded control. At first, it seemed there was no fight. His eyes opened at her command, and his spine straightened as she told it to. Making sure the attachments of her soul to the body remained strong, Autumn lifted one leg and planted it beneath them, pressing down to stand up.
That’s when it happened. Something didn’t respond the way it should. Rather than push them to standing, the leg shoved them partly up, then buckled, dropping them sideways toward the house once more. Not wanting to damage her unwilling host, Autumn made to swing their arm up to catch them, but she was too slow. Their knuckles cracked against the wall at hip height just before their temple collided with the wall again.
Autumn was cannoned forcefully from the body. For a moment, she was dumbfounded. Then, she was angry. If he hadn’t resisted, she would have had them standing. If he hadn’t tried to wrestle control back, they would be on their way. If he hadn’t-
She realized that, despite the blow to his face, he was asleep again. Unbelievable.
Autumn laughed as she realized what it all meant. He hadn’t resisted. That was the best his body was willing to respond. Alcohol stifled human will, but it also slowed the body. Alcohol was her nemesis now, not the man. Alcohol had slowed the body. Alcohol had muddied her connection to their body, and the pain of their face meeting the wall had finished the job.
This was going to be harder than she expected.
