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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
He gestures at the two women, who have lapsed into an awkward silence again. Both of them look like they're considering bolting in opposite directions. A muscle flexes in Stacia's jaw for a moment, before she cracks her lips to speak.
"Ace told me that the alpha of the pack was executed today," she says. "The Theurge is being kept under close supervision while they try to...deprogram her, I guess. And the other four are dead -- some kind of fight, apparently."
"...I see," her mother says.
"They won't be coming back," Stacia concludes. Speaking seems to have settled her, she no longer looks like she's ready to run. Confident but closed off, not relaxed in the way Dan may have seen her on the rig or on the network. It's almost formal.
no subject
He looks to the Ghost. "I reckon Stacia and her mother don't have the warmest of relationships. Is there anything you can show me of their Christmases to prove me wrong?"
It's not a demand or a challenge; it's a straightforward question, because he suspects this memory isn't over, what he's supposed to glean from this isn't gone.
no subject
"Unfortunately, only her most recent Christmas falls within my purview," the Ghost says. He waves his hand and a misty gateway appears to the same living room as they're standing in, but lit by lamps and lights and bustling with activity. It's very different than the dim and quiet June night between mother and daughter, who haven't exchanged a word since Stacia made her assurances.
"...I'm going to bed," Stacia says. "Don't stay up too late. Like I said, no one's going to come." She smirks, and it's a grim expression trimmed in satisfaction. "They wouldn't dare."
"Sleep well," her mother says and Stacia and her bag dart up the stairs, quickly and quietly as though she's glad for the escape. Her mother waits like she's counting the seconds, then wraps her robe more tightly around herself and moves to the darkest and most secure corner of the living room, as though she's trying to hide.
The muffled sound of a woman's laughter winds its way through the portal to the most recent Christmas.
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"I can see why Bunny's taken to her. I can see why she might could need it." She's so young to be exposed to violence, and that's coming from someone who was using firearms by the age of four.
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The Ghost sighs.
"Secrets within secrets," he says. "That's where the trouble gets in."
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"Are the rest of her family...are they involved in all this? Werewolf pack dynamics and all?"
He senses it's a little different in his world than in Stacia's. Werewolves mostly live in the woods and work in magic society where Dan's from. They don't have homes with picturesque family Christmases the way humans do; their culture is as advanced but too removed.
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"The mechanism of this magic isn't tied to chromosomes," he says. "It manifests equally across sex and gender, just not in this family. It could very well manifest in Stacia's brother's children's children's children, or it could be lost to his line forever. If the magic was ever in her father's family, it's been long forgotten."