HERE, HAVE SOME SPIRIT

[piper90npcs]

Who: Three Ghosts and the little New Hires
What: Sharing the Christmas Spirit
Where: Good question
When: Post-Rose Tattoo
Warnings/Notes: Possible violence, angst, likely visions of death.

Are you sleeping?

Maybe. Maybe not. It's hard to tell. This could be another ARE, after all. What you can tell is that the halls are filled with mist, the smell of pine, and the sound of jingling bells off in the distance.

And then comes the wailing.

Tearing past you, screaming like a damned soul, skeletal figures flood through the halls. Some of them wear business suits, weighed down by chains crafted from ledgers and money boxes. Some of them are soldiers, bound by their own twisted weapons. Police, politicians, no one seems spared. Someone whispers, warning you, begging you to pay heed. For you will be visited by three ghosts who are on an errand of great import.

And then something charges with a howl and all goes white. Slowly, the light dims, and the mass of spectral entities is gone. Instead there stands a figure, or maybe two or three of them. For each person, it's different, as they'll have different messages and purposes for each.

One is neither male nor female, the only certain features being a well-muscled, well proportioned body, wearing a white tunic and a beautiful belt of pearl. Its hair is long, white, as if ancient, but no matter how its face changes, there's no sign of age upon it. There seems to be an aura of white flame around its head and, in a voice that belies nothing but charitable warmth, introduces itself as the Ghost of Christmas Past. It will show scenes of someone's past, offering enlightening details with little judgment.

The middle one is a large man on a veritable throne of food, tantalizing and delicious, wearing a fur-lined red robe and a crown of holly upon his head. The Ghost of Christmas Present is a big man, with brown hair, and a booming, jovial voice that can turn blisteringly harsh and back in a single sentence. He'll show what the character was doing immediately prior to their arrival upon the rig. Perhaps what they're doing right now. But he'll also be content to walk either the character's home world or this Gone Away World, viewing the sights and people enjoying Christmas with the character.

And the final one, a phantom in a dark, green robe, green smoke billowing around it. Its skin is pale, pulled gauntly around whatever body part it exposes. The gaze underneath the hood is as cold as the grave, and it would be wise not to try to match that for too long. It remains utterly silent, simply guiding its guest through the Christmases Yet To Come with a pointed finger. It will show how a character dies and how they'll be remembered by others after. It acts cold and merciless, but this very visit is a mission of mercy, one it silently prays will succeed.

The surprise, though, is that they aren't showing the character that history. Instead, they'll be guiding their guest through someone else's life. Maybe just a fraction of it, maybe a full span. But when it's all over, it's as if no time has passed. In fact, no. The characters are returned to an hour before the ghosts visited them.

[[Remember, this isn't your typical memshare. The ghosts are NPCs, but they'll be controlled by the players. They will not show characters their own histories, presents, or futures, only those of different people. They can show the same scenes to different people or different scenes to different people. One person might not even see all three of the Ghosts.]]

Comments

TENTEN

[71lines]

[[So, reply to Tenten's prompts! Or, if you've something to show her, respond directly to this post.]]

PAST

[71lines]

The Ghost of Christmas Past and its guest pause, hovering in the sky over a large town built at the foot of a mountain range, large stone heads dominating the landscape. "Konohagakure," it states softly. "The Village Hidden in the Leaves. One of the great ninja villages of this world. And one of the many worlds that, unfortunately, has never learned the joys of Christmas."

Slowly, it guides itself to the ground, near the outskirts, and gestures for the other to follow before strolling through the scattered crowds that fill the streets casually, gliding through people when it needs to. "Instead, their closest equivalent is something that they call the Rinne Festival. Once a ceremonial day, meant to pray the dead, they now give presents to friends and loved ones. I'll never cease to find fascinating the parallels some cultures come up with." It ghosts through several buildings, leading to a large clearing, with a large, red statue of flame centered in it. Beyond, there are small headstones everywhere, offerings placed around some few of them. "Not everyone forgets the Festival's origins, however."

And one of those who apparently hasn't forgotten is a New Hire with a very familiar hairstyle. She can't be much older than five or six years old now, but she's still near one of the more isolated stones, desperately clapping her hands over her head and pressing them together. There's a bit of uncertainty about her as she prays, but Tenten's still giving it her all. "Mother, Father! Sorry I'm a little late this year! I was busy with the paperwork!" She straightens, kneeling on both legs, hands resting on her thighs. "I don't know if you would have approved or not, but Hinori-san says that it's important to repay favors. Since Konoha's taken care of me all these years, the only way to repay the people here is to take care of it. So I'm going to be a kunoichi, like Lady Tsunade!"

The Ghost clicks its tongue, clearly disapproving, and turns its head to its guest. "There aren't really many other things for a parentless child to do in this village, but it seems a waste to dedicate one's life to death on a festive day like this. Don't you think so?"

PRESENT

[71lines]

The largest of the Ghosts, after pressing his guest to take at least a meat pie, turns. Tenten's in the gym, but doesn't even seem to notice that she's being observed. Which might be why she's going at these robots even harder than she usually does, darting through their grasping reaches and tearing into them with a fury that she doesn't allow others to see for the most part. The Ghost gestures and time slows, allowing some of her blurred movements to be seen with crystalline clarity.

Her knuckles are split and bleeding freely and she's not exactly managing to dodge all of those hits, but now that her motions can be processed it's easy to see that she... Actually, no. She's fast. And she's hitting hard. But while her form is obviously well practiced, possibly even cleaner than Armstrong's, her execution is. Well. Terrible. Her kicks are often off, either slamming her shins into the robots or simply scuffing their surface with the bottom of her feet. She can't seem to block consistently. Almost all of her upper body movements are stiff, pained.

For all that she's clearly, finally, not holding back, this is honestly the worst display she's put on since arriving on the Rig.

"What a waste," the Ghost sighs. "She should be out with friends, but no. This." He clucks his tongue. "But it's not like her present back home is very promising, either." He raises his arm, gesturing to the shadows. Another scene appears within them, of a desert and thousands-no, tens of thousands, nearly a hundred thousand- people in identical uniforms stand in formation. A zoom in on Tenten, looking a little confused, among the ranks. "Going to war at home, and carrying on like this here... We're not going to see much better. without going back a few weeks, and that would be my dearest colleague's domain. But perhaps if Jorgmund hadn't robbed her future..."

Re: PRESENT

[bringinghopewithme]

"And what am I gonna do with a meat pie, huh?" asks the very vegetarian rabbit, warding off the gift, hoping to high heaven that there's no rabbit in it. Gosh. "Give it to a starving orph -"

Bunny cuts off as the vision swaps to Tenten, now, distraught and getting out her feelings and displaying so many more bad ones than she'd probably show if she knew he were witnessing.

He fixes the ghost with a glare. "Then let me outta here, and I'll go find her and - and do something about it." He doesn't quite know what yet, teens still not being his target audience, but alone at least cannot be the best thing for Tenten right now, and he's in the rare position to do something about that. "They don't have a full claim on her life yet."

[71lines]

The Ghost snorts a little, shaking his head. "No accounting for taste," he hums lightly.

And suddenly the Bunny's wrapped up. In Tenten. The Ghost of Christmas Present drops his robe and shakes his head. "And what would you do, Bunnymund? Tell her that everything will be okay? Hug away the cracks in her heart? She's not one of your wards. Perhaps her life would have been better if she were." He circles the fray, and then everything freezes. The Ghost pushes his hand through her back and her disguise evaporates. Gone is the Tenten of old. Now there's merely half of her. One eye is simply gone, a dark socket in its place. Her skin is missing on her left side, exposing raw musculature. "But her life ended the moment she met Rose Tattoo."

He withdraws his hand and the disguise reforms, action picking up right where it had left off. "In her culture, a shinobi is 'one who perseveres'. And I cannot see the future, of course, but in this case, the two of us can see it as clearly as crystal." He heaves a sigh, shaking his head. "You can, too. You remember the trenches, still, don't you? The boys in France, staring across No Man's Land at one another? Perhaps you saw my brother's hand in 1914."

He moves through some of the robots to rest a hand on Bunny's shoulder. "She will not allow herself to be protected. She won't hide while her friends are fighting. How can she persevere?" A squeeze, and he lets go. "If you can, you might make her comfortable. Content, perhaps, if you can undermine her 'therapy' sessions. But you can't make her safe or happy."

[bringinghopewithme]

The Ghost is trying to shock him and Bunny resolves immediately not to let him see that he is shocked.

The unfortunate part of being an empathetic person who's survived to witness all the suffering humanity has to put each other through is that each time, the sight of a devastatingly injured child doesn't become less shocking. He never gets numb to it.

But this ghost will not cry over him. Tenten will not benefit one bit if he cries over her.

"Oh, you mean it's gonna be difficult? Gosh, what ever am I gonna do with a problem that can't be hugged away?" Bunny snorts. "Get outta here with your her life ended. This is why I'm the Guardian of Hope and you're not."

For all that he has done so much to successfully steer his world in a kinder, gentler, more protective, less painful course, he has failed and failed and failed again. And allowing himself the indulgence, the selfishness of wallowing over his failure, of making Tenten's pain about him, or even of ignoring it, would only make him fail more.

He hasn't survived this long, doing the work he's done, by falling apart every time he fails a kid.

Bunny looks straight at the half-skinned vision of Tenten, allowing just a little bit of compassion to come through in his gaze. "Undermine her therapy, got it. You got any more concrete advice about this kid, or are you fishing for postwar therapy? Because get in line, mate, we could all use it."

[71lines]

The Ghost raises his hands and shakes his head. "I just think that you have other people to spend your time on. Tenten is, after all, 'the most prepared for this environment.' You weren't wrong. But this was to show you that things are slipping away, not to highlight your failings with her in particular."

He turns, fixing Bunny with a firm, disappointed look. "Who are you missing? Who's not getting checked in on enough?" He leans in, scowling, and pokes at the oversized rabbit with a finger. "You've spent so much time focusing on the ones who are at, or across, the cusp of adulthood that you've missed the one person who needs the Easter Bunny."

YET TO COME

[71lines]

The spectre says nothing. He refuses to even entertain any attempts at conversation. As the mists around them fade, they reveal... destruction. As far as the eye can see. Off in the distance, giants can be seen battling, while screams and moans fill the air around them. The spirits of the dead rise around them, paying them no more than a disinterested glance before flying away to meet the fate that awaits them after this. Living ninjas in uniforms swarm over the battlefield, doing everything within their power to keep the death toll from rising. Sometimes they're even successful. The ground vibrates as a world-shattering explosion occurs far in the distance, a brilliant light filling the sky before fading. The medical corps does nothing beyond ducking and covering their heads for a moment before getting right back to earth.

Being shown something like this, it's probably predictable where he seems intent on leading his guest. But that doesn't mean he's slowing down any. Not that his pace is exactly breakneck. He moves like he knows there's no hurry.

[turntex]

Despite the ghost's silence – or perhaps because of it – Dave doesn't shut up. His running commentary is a stream of consciousness ramble, drawling with a hint of Texan accent at moments, dipping to a mumble at others. His own voice is a preferable sound to the screams and clashing of metal.

"Shit, I thought this was supposed to be holiday-themed," he's saying at one point. "Unless this is a holiday wherever the fuck this is. National Battlefield Mass Murder Day. How do you even decorate for something like that? Does Walmart have an aisle for that shit or are you just supposed to paint the walls with the blood of your enemies? Fuck, I'm messin' around here but that's actually probably a real thing for trolls. That'd be a lot more colorful a paint job at least, goddamn."

Nonsense babbling aside, he floats along after the ghost, none too eager to hang out here longer than he has to.

[71lines]

The Ghost pauses and stares up at the sky during Dave's diatribe. Sometimes, people just don't appreciate drama. How's it supposed to be ominous and spooky when the guest won't shut up?

It heaves a sigh and continues on, shoulders slumped now, pausing only to look around, as if Dave had distracted it from where it'd been heading. Making a slight course correction, it glides through the battlefield. The destination: a veritable forest of ninja weapons and tools practically coating the area. And off in the center, held up by the broken half of a spear, is Tenten, looking no older than Dave last saw her. She's still got the bruise on her face she had at breakfast that morning.

What she doesn't have is the other half of her face. That's simply gone, but a layer of dust and rubble hides the worst of the rawness.

The Ghost folds its arms over its chest and looks away. It's not going to bother to even pretend this is a world shaking surprise if Dave's not going to be properly awed at the display. Chatterbox.

[turntex]

If the Ghost was hoping for drama and reverence, it should have picked up a different guest.

Dave follows along. If he notices the Ghost's clear disappointment, he doesn't let on that he does. And for what it's worth, he definitely seems surprised when they come upon Tenten, nearly bumping into the Ghost as it comes to a halt in his bewilderment.

"Woah, hold up," he says, "Keep a firm grip on the upwards direction, just...what the fuck? This is supposed to be future shit, isn't it? It feels like future shit. And yet..." He gestures vaguely in Tenten's direction, "This looks like we're talking in hours, not years or weeks or even days. So unless there's a ninja army out there in the apocalyptic wasteland about to get their war on, that means..."

He falters, brows drawing together as he tries to make sense of it. Goddamn, he's never been the puzzle-solvey person in any group.

"What the fuck does that mean? Is Tenten getting sent home like, right now? Is this your way of telling me I'm losing my ninja buddy? Use your words, dude, you're stressing me out here."