Completed Dead Man Talking

A one side conversation is nice sometimes.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

Dead Man Talking

Postby Alice Weaver on November 17th, 2020, 6:23 pm

29th of Fall, 520

The sun was just beginning to lazily crest the distant horizon, clearly visible throughout the whole city due to its lack of walls. Large Sunberthan rats scampered away from the light as if it burned, kissing at their tails. Merchants were beginning to populate the marketplace, blearily rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and letting out large yawns, preparing for the coming day of ‘sales.’ Faint scuffles could be heard breaking out as a few of the merchants had to beat a sleeping stranger who sought refuge in their stall or some of the rats that infested the city with a broom. The city was beginning to wake up...or fall back asleep depending on the person’s choice of career. What mattered was a small number of people were beginning to walk the streets, seeing what the nightly activities had spat up. And spat up something the City of Anarchy did, signs of late-night violence could be seen in back alleys, cast aside blades, ominous splatters of blood, and even a few bodies crammed into uncomfortable crevices. The dress-cloaked, red-haired ghost drifting down the street in the dawn light was the first to see most of the evidence of the night.

“Gods damn. Just what did you do to deserve that you poor bastard?” The ghost crouched down in a nearby alley, the fabric of her dress fanning out around her, red locks spilling to one side of her head from its curious tilt. The ‘poor bastard’ in question looked to be a sickly man who must have weighed ninety pounds sopping wet, raggedy, faded clothes covered their form. She reached a slender hand down and tried to wipe their face unconsciously, attempting to slough off some of the dried blood that came from the many slashes on his face, and the mouth that hung opens tongueless. Of course, being dead, when her hand came into contact with the man’s flesh it broke apart into a swirl of white, gossamer mist, forming back into some semblance of a translucent hand when she pulled back. “Judging by your missing a tongue I’d say someone let something slip they shouldn’t have huh.” Alice spoke in a soft voice, almost expecting a response, “Maybe you should have hung on and come back like me. It’s not all bad. It has its perks...But also its determinants.” A melancholy sigh. “I am working on fixing some of those issues, in ways you probably wouldn’t appreciate.”

She rose silently, brushing a hand over their bloodied cheek while siphoning off a bit of her shroud, breaking it apart in gossamer threads, spinning it around their body, wrapping it tightly around their torso, and beginning the long, arduous process of pulling the body slowly along the ground, strings straining under the weight of the man, constantly snapping and having to be reformed. “You all get buried in the outskirts, right? Something called the Dust Pit? Yes, I think that’s right.” Looking up from the body being pulled along the ground and the distance she had to travel she just knew it was impossible. “I don’t know how far I am going to be able to take you but...if I was stronger I would just float you there but I’m not. Hence me searching for other methods you see.”
Last edited by Alice Weaver on November 17th, 2020, 6:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Alice Weaver
Crafting A Second Chance
 
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Dead Man Talking

Postby Alice Weaver on November 17th, 2020, 6:27 pm

Alice stuck to the back alleys, moving scant inches every few seconds before she had to reform the strands connecting her to the body, everytime the strands needed to be reformed her body became just a tad more translucent and her mind just a fraction slower. The few people back here gave a look but left her well enough alone. Ghost had a reputation after all, best let them alone. “Where was I? Ah yes. My current predicament and how I am going to fix it.” She restarted, having lost her train of thought after spinning the threads for the tenth time, having moved the grand total of a block with fifteen chimes having already passed. “Gods, I’m pitiful.” She laughed hollowly noticing her progress, the body just lulled limply in response. “Anyways,” She starts dragging them again. “I was thinking magic was a good solution. Stories about the dangers of magic are what I grew up on in Syliras, so I feel I have a good idea of what they can do. Wizards that can throw fire, create barriers, reach across worlds and call creatures, or create life in a laboratory. I don’t know how much of that is true but I’ll guess I’ll find out.”

Alice had to pause to beat a rat off the body with a rock she quickly wrapped in soul thread, causing the body to drop to the ground before she had to ‘grab’ it again. The rodent decided to take the easy meal not realizing that the body was already claimed. “I’m really interested in the last two. If I can’t interact with the world, why not just call someone, or make my own, that can? But you here in Sunberth don’t really like magic do you? I can see why. It’s terrifying. Never make a wizard mad is a rule I think many follow, myself included.”

“Anywhos, tongueless man, you could probably come back as a ghost if you wanted to. My death was a lot tamer compared to yours and I still came back. Mostly because I wasn’t ready yet and was quite angry at the world. It had so much to experience yet it decided I didn’t get to partake in that. So I spit in its face and decided to not die...well fully at least.” Cresting the second block of her journey she felt the strands snap under the weight, dumping the body next to an awning building. Alice went to recreate the threats but the wisps coming off of her were threadbare as she heavily blinked her eyes.

“Huh. Told you I was weak. But I tried. I got you…” She glanced up, checking the street corner, “Two blocks closer.” She smiles shallowly, showing no teeth, as she takes a seat against the building next to the sprawled corpse that was gapping up at the dawn sky. “I thought coming to Sunberth would be a good idea, a place where I could roam free and do whatever I wished. Now I just regret it. Turns out complete anarchy is lonely and it’s not like you are the most welcoming lot…” The rats were already approaching, scampering in the shadows, just waiting for the there-but-not-there-lady to leave, she-who-threw-rocks presence keeping them at bay for the time being, but they were growing impatient.

“Is this really our lot in life? Both of us getting murdered in an alley and getting our corpse eaten by rats. Just sad and unfair. Being a Ghost is much better, in my opinion. I can go where I want, when I want, do what I want, without fear...mostly. I fear no pain but I also feel nothing from the outside, no warm sun, no cool breeze, plus I think I would kill for some pie. But don’t you worry.” She said, giving a comforting pat to the man. “I’ll figure it out so if you do decide to come back I’ll be waiting, solution in hand to throw at whatever of our kind wants it. Maybe it’ll be a specially summoned body that no one would care if we took up residence in, or maybe a body I build from hard work. Time will tell but I’m in no rush. I have all the time in the world to figure it out.” She gives a rueful grin, standing up and brushing off her dress despite it having no dirt on it. “Good luck, tongueless man, on whatever you decide to do with your soul. I’ll leave the rats to their meal now. I’m sorry Sunberth is so disgusting.” And with that final statement her form flicker and blurred, disappearing, as the rats chittered in delight, closing in on their meal.
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Alice Weaver
Crafting A Second Chance
 
Posts: 121
Words: 145803
Joined roleplay: November 7th, 2020, 11:42 pm
Race: Ghost
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Storyteller secrets
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Medals: 1
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