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The Ghost
Story: The Ghost
Characters: Isshiri, Nolani, Ineku, Kesshare, Ulore, Riluke, Amassa, Kirana, Odaki
Warnings: Creepy child, ghost, death of a child
Notes: This takes place in the Ghost AU, an offshoot of the Too Late AU.
8. Active Decay
He woke up, and it was dark and quiet and broken all around him. He got up and the room wavered around him, but he didn't fall, even though it hurt. He could still smell the smoke. At least Ulore was gone. He looked down and he could see the floor--
He couldn't see people through the floor, he could see the floor through people.
He made no sound as he went towards the door. He tried to open it, but he couldn't touch it.
He whimpered.
He couldn't open the door, and everything hurt.
He was trapped.
6. Putrefaction
She hated walking by his old room.
Mamma had had it boarded up, at least, so no one could see in or use it, but she had to walk by it sometimes, to get from place to place. She went around when she could, but sometimes...
She hated it, 'cause she hadn't gotten there in time, and he was dead and it was all her fault and she could still smell the smoke and hear him crying and once she thought she heard her name.
She stayed as far as she could from where her brother had died.
5. Autolysis
He went there, sometimes, when he wasn't needed elsewhere. It gave him a strange sort of comfort, leaning against the broken doorway, listening for the ghost of his child's laughter on the wind.
His wife didn't understand it, his daughters were scared, but he...being there brought him what little peace he could find, since the murder.
He never stayed long, and never visited at night, when everything turned to silence and a horrible sense of waiting.
But for a few moments, once in a while--the way others visited the urn, he visited the room where he died.
2. Algor mortis
She paid little mind to the room itself--it was simply a location, though it seemed to have meaning for her husband and children.
It was strange, though, walking past. Like a breath of cold night air, no matter what time of day.
And things seemed to just...break there, with no explanation. The walls, the lamps, once the floor. The murderer's fire must have weakened the glass in ways invisible to human eyes. Her uncle wanted to board up the entire hallway, but her husband had begged him not to.
Food for thought. For when she moved against her cousins.
7. Bloat
He'd done what he had to do. He didn't regret it. Really, he didn't.
Well, maybe. The boy had been so young, and he had cried.
He walked past the door, late one night, and thought he heard something creak.
And then it got hot, and he could hear him crying again. The hallway warped, stretching out ahead of him longer than it should.
He tried to put out the flames--the heat was truly getting intolerable--but there were no flames, only heat.
He, too, cried when he died, cooked into the softly shattered glass.
3. Rigor Mortis
She always felt lonely, walking by his room. Lonely, and frightened, and very, very small.
She didn't feel guilty, like her older cousin, or--whatever his little sister felt, she couldn't tell. She just felt...sad. And afraid. And just a little bit angry.
Like how he had probably felt, when he died.
She had a pretty good guess who'd done it, too. There was motive, twisted, but there. She just couldn't prove it. No one alive could.
When she found his body, melted into a rictus of terrified agony, she didn't just suspect her uncle anymore.
She knew.
10. Dry/Remains
He couldn't explain how his son died. He wasn't murdered, like the child had been--even the most adept fire-mages couldn't melt someone from the inside.
He boarded up the hallway then. Whatever damage had been done there, two people had died.
Even if he couldn't explain it.
Though he did, in his private thoughts, ponder the possibility of something...unnatural. He rejected the notion in the light of day. Such things did not exist. His grandnephew had been murdered. His son had suffered a terrible accident.
Still, he would board up the hallway. Let them rest in peace.
4. Livor mortis
She didn't understand why no one visited him. It was the only place her brother was still there to play with her.
She didn't like that he was always so sad, but she played hide-and-seek and tried to make him laugh. It took her forever and ever to clean up all the glass so it was safe to, but then it was lots of fun, even if he sometimes wasn't there and sometimes he just cried and cried.
She kept visiting him, even when she grew up and he didn't.
She was his sister. That's what sisters do.
1. Pallor mortis
He hated himself, a little, for thinking of it that way, but his brother had gotten what he deserved.
All of them knew he had killed their nephew--a seven-year-old child--on shaky justification at best.
He was glad that their father had finally boarded up the hallway. It was a disturbing place, and a sad one. They were better off forgetting.
Even after, he sometimes caught his younger niece wandering that way, no matter who told her no. Even after, you could sometimes hear crying, late at night
Even after, just thinking about it made him feel...hot.
9. Advanced Decay
A little girl decides she wants to explore the broken death wing. She knew the stories. About her great-great-something uncle who had been murdered, about his uncles who had melted, about the things you heard. Imperial children often dared each other to try, but no one had ever gone at night.
She saw him, out of the corner of her eye--a little wisp of a boy, sad-eyed and smoking.
She smiled at him, and waved.
He blinked, and waved back.
He wasn't scary after all, she realized.
He just wanted to play.
Characters: Isshiri, Nolani, Ineku, Kesshare, Ulore, Riluke, Amassa, Kirana, Odaki
Warnings: Creepy child, ghost, death of a child
Notes: This takes place in the Ghost AU, an offshoot of the Too Late AU.
8. Active Decay
He woke up, and it was dark and quiet and broken all around him. He got up and the room wavered around him, but he didn't fall, even though it hurt. He could still smell the smoke. At least Ulore was gone. He looked down and he could see the floor--
He couldn't see people through the floor, he could see the floor through people.
He made no sound as he went towards the door. He tried to open it, but he couldn't touch it.
He whimpered.
He couldn't open the door, and everything hurt.
He was trapped.
6. Putrefaction
She hated walking by his old room.
Mamma had had it boarded up, at least, so no one could see in or use it, but she had to walk by it sometimes, to get from place to place. She went around when she could, but sometimes...
She hated it, 'cause she hadn't gotten there in time, and he was dead and it was all her fault and she could still smell the smoke and hear him crying and once she thought she heard her name.
She stayed as far as she could from where her brother had died.
5. Autolysis
He went there, sometimes, when he wasn't needed elsewhere. It gave him a strange sort of comfort, leaning against the broken doorway, listening for the ghost of his child's laughter on the wind.
His wife didn't understand it, his daughters were scared, but he...being there brought him what little peace he could find, since the murder.
He never stayed long, and never visited at night, when everything turned to silence and a horrible sense of waiting.
But for a few moments, once in a while--the way others visited the urn, he visited the room where he died.
2. Algor mortis
She paid little mind to the room itself--it was simply a location, though it seemed to have meaning for her husband and children.
It was strange, though, walking past. Like a breath of cold night air, no matter what time of day.
And things seemed to just...break there, with no explanation. The walls, the lamps, once the floor. The murderer's fire must have weakened the glass in ways invisible to human eyes. Her uncle wanted to board up the entire hallway, but her husband had begged him not to.
Food for thought. For when she moved against her cousins.
7. Bloat
He'd done what he had to do. He didn't regret it. Really, he didn't.
Well, maybe. The boy had been so young, and he had cried.
He walked past the door, late one night, and thought he heard something creak.
And then it got hot, and he could hear him crying again. The hallway warped, stretching out ahead of him longer than it should.
He tried to put out the flames--the heat was truly getting intolerable--but there were no flames, only heat.
He, too, cried when he died, cooked into the softly shattered glass.
3. Rigor Mortis
She always felt lonely, walking by his room. Lonely, and frightened, and very, very small.
She didn't feel guilty, like her older cousin, or--whatever his little sister felt, she couldn't tell. She just felt...sad. And afraid. And just a little bit angry.
Like how he had probably felt, when he died.
She had a pretty good guess who'd done it, too. There was motive, twisted, but there. She just couldn't prove it. No one alive could.
When she found his body, melted into a rictus of terrified agony, she didn't just suspect her uncle anymore.
She knew.
10. Dry/Remains
He couldn't explain how his son died. He wasn't murdered, like the child had been--even the most adept fire-mages couldn't melt someone from the inside.
He boarded up the hallway then. Whatever damage had been done there, two people had died.
Even if he couldn't explain it.
Though he did, in his private thoughts, ponder the possibility of something...unnatural. He rejected the notion in the light of day. Such things did not exist. His grandnephew had been murdered. His son had suffered a terrible accident.
Still, he would board up the hallway. Let them rest in peace.
4. Livor mortis
She didn't understand why no one visited him. It was the only place her brother was still there to play with her.
She didn't like that he was always so sad, but she played hide-and-seek and tried to make him laugh. It took her forever and ever to clean up all the glass so it was safe to, but then it was lots of fun, even if he sometimes wasn't there and sometimes he just cried and cried.
She kept visiting him, even when she grew up and he didn't.
She was his sister. That's what sisters do.
1. Pallor mortis
He hated himself, a little, for thinking of it that way, but his brother had gotten what he deserved.
All of them knew he had killed their nephew--a seven-year-old child--on shaky justification at best.
He was glad that their father had finally boarded up the hallway. It was a disturbing place, and a sad one. They were better off forgetting.
Even after, he sometimes caught his younger niece wandering that way, no matter who told her no. Even after, you could sometimes hear crying, late at night
Even after, just thinking about it made him feel...hot.
9. Advanced Decay
A little girl decides she wants to explore the broken death wing. She knew the stories. About her great-great-something uncle who had been murdered, about his uncles who had melted, about the things you heard. Imperial children often dared each other to try, but no one had ever gone at night.
She saw him, out of the corner of her eye--a little wisp of a boy, sad-eyed and smoking.
She smiled at him, and waved.
He blinked, and waved back.
He wasn't scary after all, she realized.
He just wanted to play.