piper90npcs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
piper90npcs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
When the parents come back, though, something chill goes up Sam's back. It reminds him too much of the way his dad had been at that last moment, knowing he'd traded his life for Dean's even though Sam hadn't at the time. "What did they do?" he asks the Ghost, turning away from the scene. "Was she a demon of some sort? Did they make a Deal and their ten years are up?"
Yes, he knows from long talks with Dan about the differences in their worlds that the demons where Dan's from don't quite work that same way. But it feels like a Deal come home to roost.
no subject
"Mom, what's wrong-" Dan starts to ask, but his mother places her finger over his lips and shushes him.
"Keep your brothers and sisters calm. Everything's going to be alright." She turns to the other teenager. "You too, Kitty. Everything's going to be alright. Take them to bed."
"We're safe here," their father says, although he sounds like he wants to believe that more than he does. He gestures with a hand to bunker, with its guns and crosses and hatch and concrete walls and alarm system. "What place is safer than here?"
The older kids obey immediately, trying to soothe the younger ones even over clear anxiety, over protests that dinner isn't finished yet, they barely had dessert, hustling them to brush their teeth and go to a small room full of tight little cots where the kids were to sleep two-a-piece. And time in the memory gets gooey, as clearly hours pass and all the kids go to bed.
All but Dan, sitting up and listening at the door even though it's clear he knows he isn't supposed to.
His mother is crying. "She didn't tell us the price. We sold one of our babies, we sold their soul, and if we don't pay up she'll take all of them. She'll take all of us, all of them one by one."
And his father is trying to stay calm. "She can't come collect. You know that. This place is warded against every type of blood magic in the country. She'll just...she'll rescind the contract. We have a month to reinforce the wards, and if she comes near any of them we'll blow her brains out. Hell, she might even hit the landmines, she came close enough today."
"We're so stupid," his mother keeps crying.
One of Dan's little brothers stirs and tugs at his sleeve. "Danny, I had a nightmare."
Dan turns his attention from the door, lays down in the bed next to his brother. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, Eli. Tell me about the last good dream you had instead. So we can replace it."
The Ghost just says, "I figure you can understand what happened next and why he won't talk about it."
no subject
"I mean. Kinda shitty that she didn't tell them the price. At least demons tell you that much." He reaches back, rubbing at his lower back for a moment before he lets out a breath. "They didn't pay it, though, did they? They probably would have been fine had it been one of their lives that the woman wanted as payment, but not one of their kids."
Because that's how it works. Sacrificing yourself is one thing. Sacrificing somebody else? Well, most people wouldn't do that.
Most. Some people are all too willing to do that.
no subject
"So of course they won't pay it. In a month, Dan and his brother will find his mother crucified to the wall with her own ribs. And then year by year the curse will strike again, which is how necromancy works. Up until the witch casting the curse is dead."
In the memory, Dan lulls his little brother back to sleep. And ever so faintly through the door, the sound of their parents desperately praying filters through, and once Eli is sound asleep, Dan folds his hands and mouths prayers as well.
no subject
Sam looks around the room, making a quick count of the kids. And he really, really doesn't like what his mind is coming up with. General age that Dan looks to be combined with the age he is now, carry the two...
He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "He's the last one. He's watched all the rest of his family die and he's got a reprieve because he's here."
no subject
As if that's comforting information.
"I believe you have a friend who said that everyone gets into hunting for a reason."
no subject
He does huff out half a laugh at the thought of his own memories being shown. "You guys don't exactly have a lot to work off of there."
no subject