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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
Remy looked good, and the cats...she never knew he was a cat person. He'd mentioned he was from further on than she was, so she had to assume this was something that came up later. Rogue looked around she wandered over to the stockings to look at them. "Seems like things are smooth 'nough."
no subject
The Ghost laughs, a hearty bellow as he lets Rogue move about the room. The stockings are all about the same size, but only three have anything in them; the ones with the names Oliver, Figaro and Lucifer in grey, white and orange. Given the fact that Rogue can now place one of those names, it probably isn't a surprise when she notices two more cats curled up on the couch. A couch that Remy passes by on his way back to the kitchen, dropping Lucifer onto the cushions with a scratch of his ears and a quick kiss dropped between the ears.
Rogue will recognize the scents coming from the kitchen as distinctly Cajun. Not gumbo, but a jambalaya, perhaps.
"Smooth enough, yes. Though perhaps a bit quiet." The Ghost still seems amused enough. "Not many would believe he's spending his Christmas Eve alone, would they?"
no subject
"Where am Ah?" Because she couldn't understand why she wouldn't be there, even when they were on the outs she never let him sit through holidays alone. He'd had too much of that in his life already and she'd made a point to make him feel at home and welcome with the X-men.
no subject
"As for you..."
The Ghost trailed off as a knock came at the door. Remy perked up, taking a moment to brush his fingers back through his hair. Which, like so often in his life, was in need of a cut. He looked to the cats. "You guys stay dere."
Which mostly earned him a tail flip before Remy went to the door, opening it to find Rogue on the other side. Obviously, she was going through one of her hair straightening phases, hair currently pulled back into a ponytail, holding a wrapped present in her gloved hands.
Remy leaned against the door, smiling. "Bonsoir, chère. 'Fraid you're early for supper."
The future Rogue would see that her counterpart's smile was a bit fragile, offering over the box. It might take Rogue a moment to realize that the outfit was a uniform. A new one. "'Fraid Ah can't stay, Remy. Things've come up and..."
Remy's face goes still for a moment before his eyes hood, trying to keep from looking as upset about the news as he was. "Je sais. Avengers business, non?" He takes the box, walking over to the tree and setting it down. His fingers dance a moment over two small gifts before taking the larger one, leaving the second one hidden behind the new box and taking it over. "Best give dis to you 'fore you go, den. Might not be back 'fore mornin' an' you know Santa don' come if you ain't slept."
She took the box, which was slightly too big to tuck away in her belt, expression crumbling. "Ah...they don't really need me. Ah could just tell Alex that Ah'm busy--"
"Hush. None-a dat now." Remy leaned forward, kissing her hair. "We both know how dis sorta t'ing goes. When you gotta save de world, you gotta save de world."
no subject
She nodded with the gift but after another moment something seemed off, she knew the expression by feel even if she'd never seen herself making it. That was nerves and guilt and a bit of desperation and she didn't like where it was headed one bit.
"No! Girl you get yer backside in there an talk ta him!" She fumed at her other self and saw how Remy slid so quickly into his quietly cool demeanor. He could pretend everything was fine while a building collapsed around him. But she knew him better than that. And if she did then this future version of her had to as well. Just what the hell was going on?
"Yes stay, stay an make it right. Things take both of you to do right." Rogue watched as he encouraged her to leave, to go off and help the Avengers, of all people. She'd done her best to make good for years after what happened with Carol but it'd never felt like her place to be with them.
"Don't let her go! Tell her you need her you damned fool! An you need him too you dunderhead." She was furious at herself, well the one still in the doorway. And mad at how casually he was taking all this and letting her walk out when what they should be doing in being together. "Least take him with you. Yer better together than either of you are apart. Dontch'a see that?"
So this was his present, or nearly so and her future. "Two stupid prideful fools."
no subject
Remy shooed the other Rogue out the door, promising to save her some jambalaya, but the world had to come first. The usual thing for them. Had it been the other way around, she'd have done the same.
He walked over to the tree again, picking up the second gift that he'd passed over earlier. Wide and flat, probably jewelry that wasn't a ring or earrings. And if Rogue looked over his shoulder, she'd see her name on it.
He looked at it a long moment before opening a drawer on the table and tossing it in. Then he went to the window, looking out so that he could watch Rouge fly away with a wry smile. "Mebbe next year, huh, chère?"
no subject
Justifications that she knew would melt away when someone said they needed her. But didn't Remy need her too? Wasn't he every bit as important? She was off saving the world but he, he was her world.
Rogue slumped down into the couch, strangely there and not there in this bubble of his life. She felt like she wanted to either scream or cry, but she did neither. She just sat. "But yer right, we do this over an over an over. Like we ain' learned anything about it by now. Least ways how important it is ta spend time with the ones who make savin' the world matter."
Somewhere she had to think that Mama Irene was shaking her head at her, what she wouldn't give for five minutes with the woman to get her head straight.
no subject
They really shouldn't offer this, even though it's not REALLY against the rules. But what were they about, if not changing things now to make things better later?
no subject
(Continued in the next Ghost's thread)