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goneawayworld2020-12-01 08:29 pm
piper90npcs) wrote in goneawayworld2020-12-01 08:29 pm
HERE, HAVE SOME SPIRIT
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.]]
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.]]
no subject
"Sam, have you seen Auntie Stacia?"
The darker-skinned girl in her early teens is not talking to Sam Winchester. Stacia's favorite victim makes a "mfph" noise around a swallow of what ever is in his mug.
"Hey Ponente," he says. "You just missed her. Either she'll be back soon with the plate I set aside for her, or she's going to ambush me again. Here's hoping it's the former, I've already got wolf spit in my ear."
no subject
It had been what had changed his mind about the Christmas he and Dean shared several years back. Before Dean went to Hell. Life was too short as it was.
Still, when he hears his name, his head whips around. Even knowing that, logically, there's no way anybody in this memory could see him or would be able to name him at all. Which is why he blinks at the guy Stacia had been harassing, looking between him and the space Stacia had gone, then back before raising an eyebrow. "Well. I wonder how weird this is for her. Though, I guess, Sam's not that unusual a name."
no subject
"I heard you were swinging through!" Stacia says, finally releasing the younger girl. "Oh my god, did you get taller than me? I think you're taller than me. How very dare."
"It was bound to happen sooner or later, rhya," Ponente says. "You're very short." She laughs and dodges back out of reach when Stacia tries to swat at her. "My mother says you should stop by and see her before you leave tonight. She and the Plague aren't coming out in the cold, but they have presents!"
no subject
Which isn't to say that Sam himself isn't very tall. It's just...well, Ponente has a point, that's all.
"It's good to see her with so much support, though. I know she has her issues with her boyfriend being a bit of a dumbass, but...it's still great to see her surrounded by friends." He makes a gesture, taking in everybody there. "I know that this kind of life gets lonely so easily."
no subject
There's a loud snarl as a tussle breaks out between two of the wolves. Stacia swears and abandons her plate in other Sam's care again, loping toward the fight.
"Goddamnit, I told you two--"
"...And she'll expect to be listened to," the Ghost says as Stacia shifts into her wolf-monster form to scruff the two combatants. Interestingly, her outerwear vanishes instead of being shredded like her Jorgmund jumpsuit.
no subject
And he does notice that the clothing changes with her, which is...different.
It takes a few moments for what the Ghost has said to filter in. He blinks, glancing over at the Ghost with a half smile. "We're social animals. Making social units is...in our blood. It's not surprising that werewolves do the same thing. They have instincts from both sides wanting to do it." Tilting his head, he adds, "Being listened to might be more of a challenge."
no subject
"She's young yet," the Ghost says as Stacia snarls at the wolves in either enormous clawed hand. "Perhaps she'll learn how to assert herself among humans as well." Stacia drops the wolves once they're appropriately cowed and leaves them there, shifting back into her human shape, fully clad in winter clothes.
"You should have just let them have it out," Ponente says as Stacia retrieves her plate from other Sam, granting him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Nope," Stacia says, shoveling some barbecue into her mouth before anything else can happen. "If they want to have it out, they can take it to the Challenge Circle like grown ups. Outside of that, I'm the boss of them and I say they can play the fuck nice or I'll...do something. Something that requires that they hold their tempers. I'll figure it out, divine inspiration will strike in the moment."