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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.]]
Mackenzie Haynes
Past
"A comfortable place, if being off the beaten path suits," the Ghost remarks.
It's a small building, without running water and electricity provided by a rumbling generator but it is comfortable and warm within. Crowded, too, with five people filling its space. There are only a few rooms, with the main one set aside for living space, a hearth, and a kitchen. The interior is decorated in evergreen limbs, a small Christmas tree and a few strands of colored lights that have perhaps seen better days. This is where the Ghost takes people. Sprawled out on a battered couch before the hearthfire is Mackenzie, her eyes closed as she seems to be contentedly napping up a storm. There's an old boombox-style tape deck on the dining room table, scratchily blasting out Christmas carols. Curled before the fire, also clearly asleep is a wolf, mottled grey and gold coat still a little damp from the snow outside.
The kitchen is crowded with three others: one, a woman with olive skin and long dark hair tied back into a braid is in the midst of dressing a cut of meat to go into the oven, chattering away with a dark-skinned young man with a close-cropped mop of curly hair.
"Eli, are you done chopping those potatoes yet? I want to get them on the stove once the venison is in?" She asks with the air of someone used to getting what she wants. Or at least used to being listened to.
"I'm workin' on it," the young man, Eli obviously, says in reply. "Why don't you wake up Kenzie or Howls and get them to help, too?"
"Because," says the third, another young woman with fair skin and strawberry blonde hair she's tucked into a messy bun, "They're the ones who went out and caught Christmas dinner, you dorkus."
"I would've gone if they'd asked," insists the young man with a cheeky grin. The three of them continue to playfully bicker between themselves as cooking proceed apace. The Ghost gives a slight shake of their head before they speak.
"There was a time, brief as it was, when she was warm and surrounded by those she loves. This was but the previous Christmas for her. How much things change," they say in their calm voice, and move to lean over the couch as if they might brush some of the sleeping Mackenzie's hair from her face.
"She was happier then. Or perhaps she might even be described simply as happy. As she is now, I cannot say. It is not my realm to describe the present."
Re: Past
He's caught between his own whole nature as the sort of animal that this family would have caught, dressed for the oven, and his higher awareness' appreciation for the fact that this is a home, a family, possibly one Kenzie doesn't have anymore.
The prickly werewolf herself is not around to see him cast a concerned glance at her sleeping form, so he goes ahead and does it anyway.
just kinda making this up as i go honestly
"Here, on the house," the blonde woman says.
"Thanks, Lydia," Mackenzie mumbles and takes the bottle. She swigs and reaches out to nudge the sleeping wolf with a foot, but Lydia puts a hand on her shoulder.
"Let him sleep," Lydia says and flops down onto the couch to lean up against Mackenzie in a cozy, sisterly way. "It's Christmas."
"Oh, I thought food was ready..." Kenzie mumbles between swigs of home-made beer.
"Nah, it's in the oven and Eli and Gabby are finishing up the rest of dinner."
"Mm," Kenzie murmurs. "At least we're not neck deep in banes like last year."
"Nice to have it off for once, right?" Lydia laughs. "Anything you want from Santa this year?"
"Uhhh, a girlfriend?"
"Vibrator, got it." Kenzie clobbers Lydia with one of the pillows off the couch and there's a dissolution into laughter and playful roughhousing that never goes quite far enough to spill beer, though it comes dangerously close at times. There's no doubt that what's being seen here is family--Mackenzie's family or the closest thing she ever had to it getting to enjoy a quiet moment together. A break from her constant war.
"She had so much only a year ago," the Ghost opines in their maddeningly calm and even voice.
<3 <3 u do u boo
He both does, and doesn't want to know.
no subject
"But she did lose all of this. That much I can say with certainty."
no subject
Bunny looks at the ghost instead.
"What do you want to get out of this?" he asks. "You want her to take something from this, remember it, forget it, what's your goal with me here?"
He'll do anything he can to help any mortal, even this side of their being a child, but he's so woefully lacking in any actual communication with Kenzie. Yet here he is walking around in her own memories, uninvited.
no subject
"To promote an understanding of where you have all come from, to show the commonality. Or perhaps simply hardships. It's not my place to say what you should get from such visitations--only that you should have them and think on them."
no subject
An Easter vision would hopefully have Kenzie running free, frolicking with her friends and her family, not bedded down snoozing for the winter with a kill on the fire for him to be awkward about.
"Look, she's not gonna take kindly if I point out that humans don't stop maturing until 25. They don't like that. I wanna help her, but if you've got insight as to how - teenagers and young adults ain't exactly my target audience. I could use the insight."
no subject
"You see her as a predator. A wolf, because that is what she is. But like all creatures when wounded, she seeks to hide it. For her, showing that she is hurt, showing vulnerability would be the same as admitting that she is weak and helpless. Two things she has been taught to despise in herself by her people."
Re: Past
This isn't Stacia's first peek at other people's memories, but Kenzie seems determined to nap through this instead of acknowledging what's going on. Plus, this time it seems to come with a guide, so it might be a different style of peeking? Either way, Stacia's most interested in Kenzie's packmates. Eli, Howls, and two who's names she hasn't caught yet.
"I'm guessing that the one with the braid is her alpha," she says to the Ghost. "Who are the others?"
Re: Past
"You are correct. The woman with the dark hair is Gabriela, though she was also known to Mackenzie as Deeds-Above-Words. She was the leader, a philodox. Wise and thoughtful in her judgements." The blonde woman is heading towards the couch, beer-bottle in hand now and the Ghost's attention returns to her as the bottle is offered towards a restive Kenzie.
"That is Lydia, Hymn-of-War, the galliard. Creative and joyful, always ready to listen and lend a listening ear. Mackenzie loved her dearly, though in a way that also caused her much pain. I do not think she ever spoke of it to or with anyone." As the pair on the couch chatter and rough house and laugh, the Ghost wanders back towards the kitchen.
"He," the Ghost says, "is Eli Mourns-the-Prey, a Theurge. Irreverent despite his duties, he made her laugh. He was like her brother." The young man was leaning against the counter with a beer in hand, chatting with Gabby now. Something about how his mom made mashed potatoes?
"And this," the Ghost says, indicating the sleeping wolf, "is Tia. Howls-Too-Much. The ragabash, always asking questions. They would say that her deed name should have been 'Why?' to tease her."
Re: Past
The information about Lydia earns the Ghost raised eyebrows along with the nod as Stacia absorbs it. That would make the loss even worse, since the Litany would compel Kenzie to swallow it down and keep it private. She wonders if the "anyone" Kenzie had never spoken of or with included Lydia. At least there are no Philodox around to complicate that conversation; Stacia has more leeway as a Ragabash to provide support without judgment.
"They sound like good people," she says. "I'm glad that they were in Kenzie's life, for however tragically short that time was. Is their totem here too?"
She was used to her pack's Goat hanging around somewhere nearby, especially when there were festivities to be had.
this took me a long time bc i hadn't thought of their totem yet
"Caribou provides much to her children and asks that they provide much in return. Alas that they should provide so much of themselves in service of the Nation, in the end."
no subject
She looks down at Kenzie, then around at her pack.
"Think your area of expertise can flex enough to give me tips on how to talk to her? It's a sensitive enough topic that I'm not sure if my usual "gentle bullying" style is appropriate."
no subject
"She thinks in terms of needing to be strong, of needing to continue being a good warrior. She does not see her grief as a wound to be healed, but a shame to be hidden or ignored. I do not know if my advice will help, but what she needs is understanding without judgement. A way to let herself be vulnerable and not think herself weak for doing so."
no subject
"Don't we all," Stacia says dryly. Pity sucks, and a lot of Garou seem to read sympathy and empathy as pity or at least forms of it. It's why she usually takes the so-called gentle bullying route, where she makes not talking about a problem more difficult than talking about it. It at least lets her channel the judgmental tendencies she can never quite shake so that they're toward the behaviors rather than the person.
But losing your whole pack...that's rough. Not only have you lost a friend, a close companion, even a family member, with all that such a loss would entail, but you feel it. And that's just one pack member. Kenzie lost five, she lost her entire support system in one go. And Garou aren't meant to be alone, even ones on a vengeance quest.
"Maybe I should just..." Stacia waves a hand in frustration. "Sit on her and make her listen to stories about my dead packmates until her empathy overcomes her dumb toxic programming. Maybe that will work."