piper90npcs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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.]]
YET-TO-COME
Instead of a skinny boy and an amused older woman, though, the kitchen holds a young man and a young woman. The sounds of laughter come from another room, the raucousness of large families catching up after time away from one another. The kitchen is quieter, though, with only the two talking quietly to one another.
They have similar features, marking them as siblings, with the same auburn hair and white patch at the forehead, though the man's is wider and more prominent than his sister's. Their eyes are different, though, with the young man having inherited his father's distinctive red-on-black while the woman's are green.
She's adding something to a pot on the stove as the young man shakes his head. "I can't believe he taught you his famous gumbo recipe! I'm older than you!"
no subject
Seeing the children was not what she expected. The facial features, the coloring, the eyes.. Rogue's hand went to her mouth to cover a gasp. Those children couldn't be the result of anyone but her and Remy.
She moved closer to listen in on the conversation and look at the two. She was transfixed by them.
no subject
Even though it's not meanly said, the young man pulled back a bit. "Look, Ray, I know I haven't been around as much..."
She rolled her eyes, putting the lid on the pot before turning back to him and crossing her arms. Looking very much like Rogue herself in the moment, even if her accent was entirely Remy's. "Ain't we had this conversation about a thousand times? Papa never faulted you for goin' to Xavier's. Jus' 'cause he couldn' keep doin' it doesn' mean he wasn' proud of YOU."
no subject
"Well, ok, so obvious aside, how did that happen? Ah mean..look at 'em. They're practically all grown up."
Rogue was looking at them, so hard and so intensely that she didn't feel her eyes welling up. "So perfect."
no subject
"It don' excuse me from bein' gone so long." Oli's accent was coming out more the longer he spoke with his sister. "I should have come down more often, not jus'..."
Rae sighs, walking over and putting her hands on her brother's shoulders. "You may've gotten Mama's powers, but you're more like Poppa dan either of you ever wanted t' admit."
That, at least, seemed to set the young man's jaw for a moment before he raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one taking over the Guilds."
"Didn' say I ain't got any of it. But personality wise?" Rae gave him a half grin, then reached up and slapped his cheek lightly. "Come on. Get off yer ass an' come learn how to make de gumbo. Megan will thank me."
no subject
Though she noted his sister didn't have any fear of touching him, he worse no gloves and didn't seem to be taking any special precautions. Could he.. did her son have control? Tears fell freely and Rogue sank to her knees, overwhelmed in relief that maybe she hadn't ruined someone's life by trying to be part of it.
Se needed a minute to pull herself together while the children, heck they were adults really as much as she'd been when she joined the X-Men anyway, talked. She staggered to her feet. "Where's me and Remy? Are we old? Ah bet he's a handsome devil still, an me, did I get all plump and rosy cheeked? Maybe we're not that old yet huh?"
Then it dawned on her, this was the silent spirit. "Oh right, yer the one that don't talk. Well, maybe you can just point the way?"
no subject
It was a house that Rogue knew, even if that knowledge came from Remy's own memories of growing up there. Though the familial home in the Garden District was better maintained, now that Candra was long gone. The hall was lined with pictures, many more than there used to be. There were the old pictures, of Jean-Luc and Henri, then later with Remy mixed in. There was a picture of all three and Tante Mattie when Remy turned 18, then the pictures became various group photos of the X-Men along with pictures of Remy and Rogue together, including a picture of their wedding.
That was when the pictures became interspersed with pictures of the children, often with Rogue, though a few with Remy as well as they grew up. Then, around the time Oli looked to be maybe ten, the pictures changed. There were fewer of them, with several showing the children with a woman that Rogue would recognize as her mother. Then Remy was back, but without Rogue.
There was a table toward the end of the hall, with a picture of Remy and Rogue dancing in the same outfits as their wedding picture, with a candle lit in front of it.
no subject
There were pictures of the X-men she didn't remember being taken, they all looked so young, so happy. Smiles on all their faces, playful poses and pranks caught mid way through. Back when times weren't so dire and life had seemed like maybe...
Things matured as she moved down the hall and she paused for a long time in front of a picture that was obvious a wedding and there was that weak in the knees feeling again. Her dress was stunning, and the setting was beautiful and flowers and everything looked perfect but none of that even mattered. There was only Remy and the expression on his face of absolute love and adoration that he was looking at her with. Her heart lurched in her chest with a surge of emotion she hadn't even known she was capable of feeling. "Oh, Remy."
She didn't want to look away but felt compelled to move along the hall to the rest of the pictures and saw a shocking sight, herself making a face as Remy grinned madly, his ear pressed to her rounded belly and giving a thumbs up to the camera. A proud papa if ever there was one. If she hadn't already seen the children that would have made her knees give way for sure.
She studied each picture carefully from there on out, greedy to learn the details of their lives and try to imagine the stories of the moments where each one was taken. It wasn't long before Remy became absent from them and she stepped back a few paces to see if she'd simply missed him somehow. But no, no Remy going forward...and no her. And then there was Raven with the children but the light nature of the earlier pictures was gone. Eventually Remy was there again but without her.
Then she noted the large picture, the wedding dance and the candle beneath it, the candle lit in remembrance. Rogue's head fell forward, her watery vision obscured by white and chestnut locks.
"Yer the one that tells folks bout their death, how the world goes on without 'em." She nods, her voice thick with emotion. "Ah fergot that was yer part in all this."
She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, straightened and tried to compose herself. "Ah'm ok with it, really Ah am, so long as you can tell me that they are alright. Tell me they are safe an happy an that's all Ah need."
no subject
The Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come, though, still didn't say anything. But they didn't need to. A pair of loud squeals came from the room to the right, where all the family sounds were coming from. A set of toddlers barrelled out toward the kitchen, strawberry blonde hair around their shoulders. "Poppa! Poppa!"
Oli came out of the kitchen, catching both kids up on his arms with a grin. "What are you two doing over here? Aren't you supposed to be staying with Mama and Tante Mattie?"
"Takin' after their grandparents, they are." Mattie came out of the living room, still looking very well for a woman who had to be over a century and a half old. But, then, Rogue would know better because Remy knew better. She aged slow. "De LeBeau side, at least. Can't say I know enough 'bout deir mama's family to be talkin' 'bout 'em so."
"Let's just say I'm kinda hoping the next one takes after Megan's family." He paused, then added, "In some ways, at least."
Mattie smiled at Oli and Rae behind him, and the two strawberry blondes with black and green eyes. "They'd be so proud of you both."
no subject
And she wasn't there for them.
Mattie came out and Rogue gasped again, it was turning into one of those bad telenovela soaps for her with how she was reacting. The woman hardly looked a handful of years older than when Rogue had first met her in Remy's memories.
It was the past tense that hurt, she'd assumed that she was gone, but she'd hoped somehow Remy was still there just maybe busy. Guild work or... something. He had to live, he had to.
"Is... is being with me what makes Remy... is it why Remy dies?" She asked the Ghost. It was the hardest question she'd ever had to ask and the one thing she wasn't really sure she wanted to know the answer to, because what if that answer is yes? Then she only has one choice.
no subject
They don't answer out right, but instead look back to the picture and the small family. Which is answer enough, perhaps. Even if she WERE the reason that he dies, which isn't to say she is, would Remy have it any other way?