faderift | OPEN: Kirkwail

OPEN: Kirkwail

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Ghosts
WHEN: Wintermarch 20
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC post. More content warnings than you can shake a stick at, probably, including allusions to slavery and violence in the body of the log post. Please use appropriate warnings in the subject lines for your own threads.

The storm sweeps in like an assassin: unexpected, in the dark, and throwing sharp pricks of sleet at exposed eyes and noses with expert aim and enough force to almost draw blood if the angle is right. Half an hour after the clouds crest the cliffs is all it takes for the city to retract indoors and huddle around fireplaces, settling in for a long night that will, unforeseen, turn into a long two days.

The Gallows, too, is pelted with ice; the walls of the cliffs and the fortress protect much of it from the worst of the wind, but when it can find a path over or through the walls, it slams through windows or doors to scatter papers and snuff out fires.

In the dark, in the rain, hurrying between towers or already accustomed to jumping firelight casting strange shadows and the wind howling like a wounded animal, people might be forgiven if they don't notice at first. But there's a hanging in the courtyard, a dozen translucent wisps of bodies dangling from the idea of nooses, and there's a girl's voice in the basement of the templar tower screaming for her mother, and there's a ghostly man in the library holding the blade of a knife to his palm and whispering this is it, this is it—or maybe there isn't, actually, when you lift your head to pay closer attention.

But as the night wears on they multiply, and they brighten, and even if you haven't noticed them, they begin to notice you.

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If Six is disturbed by the spirit, by the ghost, she doesn't seem to show signs of it in her dreams. She's exhausted, clearly, from denying and hiding from Sarenrae's ghost, from trying to find a place for peace and quiet and prayer, from trying to find anything that makes any of this make sense - she's used to ghosts, and spirits, and their ilk from her own world, but in Thedas? They seem so much different, so changed from her own recognition that she cannot wrap her mind around it.

The ghost of Adrian pauses, hand hovering near Six's body. His head tilts to look over at Christine, pausing, listening but not understanding. All it's focus is on the woman in front of it, the desperate urge to connect with the memories in her mind that it has allowed it to be brought to life, the whispers she gives - pain, loneliness, isolation, loss, despair. It wants it.

Leaning close again, it whispers a second time, "Cecilia," and Six shifts in her sleep, eyes tightening.

"Leave her be," Christine repeats. It's better to err on the side of caution than to assume the spirit is harmless. These spirits have been tormenting people from the moment the Veil thinned over the Gallows. That isn't to say there haven't been spirits of Hope, Wisdom, Faith and others here as well, but the ones associated with negative emotions are so much more prevalent. Not surprising when one knows the history of the Gallows.

"Let Cecelia rest."

The hand does not stop coming closer to her and it's only then that Six wakes up, lifting a hand to press the heel of her palm into her eyes. It's clear she's exhausted, even dressed down as she is, and her gaze takes a little moment to focus. She sees Christine first, then Faith, and then her instincts have her turning her head to glance over and behind her, eyes widening for a moment as she sees the figure.

For all that she realised Sarenrae was a spirit, there's no disguising the horror and shock on her face when she sees Adrian standing behind her, hand reaching out for her. She yearns to reach back, but with someone watching -

"How..."

"It is one of the Gallows' spirits," she replies gently. "I have tried to get him to leave you alone, but sadly spirits cannot understand a great many things unless they spend considerable time with a person." The way Faith has with her. That spirit still stands nearby, but only observing for the moment. Part of her nature is to allow time for others to suss things out, because faith cannot be forced.

It seems, for a long moment, that Six doesn't hear a single word that Christine has said to her. She's completely swept up n the man in front of her, caught up in the memories of Adrian. There are tears gathering in her eyes, something tight in her throat, and she shakes her head. She wants to believe that he's real, wants to believe that the man in front of her has come back to her, that he hasn't died, but...

Her heart aches and she burns, deep down inside. This is worse than anything the spirit that took Sarenrae's form could ever have done to her.

"How... How is he just a - how is this real?"

Christine moves closer to the table and exhales a sigh through her nose. These spirits are hurting people, because all they understand is making people react a certain way. Then they've fulfilled their purpose. But that doesn't sound very nice to say, does it? It's a practical reason for something that causes so much raw emotion.

"Spirits can read minds. This one sifted through yours, until it found something to show you, to make you feel something."

"What does it want me to feel?"

Six is doing her best to be steel, to be ice, to not let this get to her, but it's obvious that she's not as strong when face to face with someone like him, back from the dead to haunt her. She's afraid to reach out to him, afraid to let her fingers brush the cold metal of his gauntlets and not feel it at all - as if that is more dangerous and deadly than anything else, as if that's a worse punishment than the one of seeing him alive again.

Her eyes turn to Christine, wild and a touch panicked, desperate.

"Will it - he - stay?"

She shrugs in response, because without knowing who this man is to her, she can't say for sure what emotion is meant to be unleashed.

"It could be anything. What would seeing him bring you? Hope, fear, anger, despair? Whatever is this spirit's nature, it wants you to feel that emotion, so it may fulfill its purpose. It knows no other way to be."

The specter is given a quick glance before Christine refocuses her attention to answer the next question.

"It depends on how strong the spirit is. I would think it will fade eventually until it can summon this form again. And of course, it will leave the waking world once we figure out why the Veil has thinned here and set things back the way it should be.

"A spirit should not be seen outside of dreams," Faith adds quietly.

What does this spirit bring her? It's not hope, necessarily, or fear, or anger... But she can admit to feeling despair. She looks at Adrian, sees him come closer, and she can feel the depth of her heartache, the way that the tears spring to her eyes again as she thinks about him. She recognises the emotions, but she doesn't know what to do about it.

Looking to Christine, she sees the other woman and breathes in, deep and slow, trying to calm herself down. She doesn't seem to note Faith for a long moment, captivated by her own spirit, the haunting of her heart.

"I... I know him." That must be obvious, surely, a hand moving to brush hair from her face, her eyes, to bring some kind of focus. It seems wrong, somehow, to speak of just what he means to her when this is not something she can prove to be real, but she breathes out sharply all the same.

"I knew him, when he lived. He was my teacher, my trainer. I... I miss him."

More each day and yet somehow less, unsure how to manage the twisting emotions inside herself.

The other woman's expression is easy to read, and Christine feels compassion for her. No doubt this is a great shock — even more so for a Rifter who knows little of the Fade and the spirits there.

"The spirit sensed it and created his image to show you. I know this will sound cold, but the spirit did it because it is its very nature. Doing this fulfills its purpose. I tried to make it go, but it didn't listen. It's very hard for spirits to understand." Her head turns a little, looking back at Faith out of the corner of her eye. "Unless they spend a great deal of time with a person."

Each second she spends looking at Adrian is another second that her heart feels like it is going to break all over again; she wants to send him away but she doesn't want him to go, desperate to wrap her hand around his and feel his touch on her cheek. She has missed him for so long, with such depth, that it feels completely impossible for her to do anything but gaze at him with her heart in her throat.

"Do... Must I make him leave? Or will he go alone?" Adrian leans closer, soft, whispering her name, and she shakes her head. "This... This is not his place, is it?"

"The Veil is stretched thin," she replies gently. "We must find the source and put it back to normal, because not all spirits are as benign as this one. For now he can stay — if it doesn't cause you pain — but no, he does not belong here in your waking life."

Dreams are another story. It's the place where consciousness visits the Fade and spirits can push forward to influence people. But coming so close to the waking world is dangerous.

Six's knowledge of the way that magic works in Thedas is limited - it was something that was Adalia's area rather than her own, with magic gifted to her through divine means - but she thinks she understands. The gateway between the world of spirits and this one is breaking and thus they have come to this side, seeking... Whatever it is they need.

"It does not cause me pain." A lie. There are tears in her eyes still that betray her. "How might we discover the source?"

Christine shakes her head. "I'm afraid I don't know. I'm sure those in the Rifts and Veil project are working on theories of what could be done, but until then, we must wait."

"And they will remain until then?" A frown, something tense colouring her face now. "What of other people, seeing other ghosts?"

"I am no expert, but I think some will stay until they feel their purpose is fulfilled. Others might not be powerful enough to linger long in these familiar forms."

There's a crease in Christine's forehead as she thinks on some of the scenes she's witnessed or heard so far. Nothing really related to her, thankfully, but scenes from others' lives.

"They are seeing a variety of things, both good and ill. And that will probably remain or go as I said. It all depends on the strength of the spirit."

"So the spirits of this world have the same failures as the ghostlike beings of my world." Six had done a great deal to fight against the ghosts and spirits of her own world; it's not a surprise that Thedas has its own version of them.

It's hard to tear her eyes away from Adrian, but she forces herself, looking over at Christine instead.

"Can I force them to leave?"

"Perhaps." Christine may know more of spirits than most, but that doesn't mean she can determine how each one will act. She can only guess base on their nature.

"If it's clear they can't make you respond how they wish, they may grow too weak from the attempt and will leave."

"I do not know what he wishes." Her sadness? Her heartache? Her pain? He is getting that, surely - but if it is taking Adrian's face does it have his memories, too? His knowledge? Or is it no more than a reflection of what she knew, deep in her heart? Her tears burn again.

"Perhaps - perhaps we should go elsewhere."

Christine dips her head slightly in a nod. She doesn't want to rush her, but if this is causing her pain...

"Perhaps we should. I am Christine. I believe the spirit called you Cecelia?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Christine."

She looks distinctly uncomfortable, glancing back at the spirit for a moment before she takes a deep breath.

"I... My name is Six."

"Oh, my mistake." Though she assumes the spirit pulled such knowledge from the woman's own sleeping mind, and it's therefore probably what she was once called.

Christine is about to gesture that Six should come with her when she remembers Faith and turns slightly to acknowledge her.

"This is Faith. She's also a spirit, but a bit more knowledgeable about the waking world. She isn't like the rest of the spirits running amok."

Six does not know what the spirit might have done, but she can make the assumption; Adrian knew her as Cecilia, nicknamed her 'six', was not alive to witness her claim a new name. She had been young, desperate for attention, for something to guide her and lead her, and she had accepted the love he had given her. It had been limited, but she had wanted it; a gentle love she had thought she had deserved.

Pushing herself up, Six makes sure the strap her clothes back in place, lifting her head up and trying to stand tall.

"I am glad to meet her." She offers an awkward bow. "And you."

Christine smiles faintly and Faith stands silent, observing the bow, but not returning it. The spirit does a great deal of observing so she can ask Christine questions later.

"Likewise. Come; let's head outside for some fresh air."

[ ooc: feel like winding the thread down soon? ]

Six's eyes dance over the spirit again for a moment, comparing the image of Christine's friend to the one of Adrian still hovering behind her before she breathes out.

"Will that help?"

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OPEN: Kirkwail

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sounds good to me!