you and I both know, the ghost is me; toli pony

[Cassady]

you and I both know, the ghost is me

She is vastly enjoying not looking like a half-dead corpse. Before, people were drawn to the bright purple of the girl, but always they regretted their curiosity when they got close and noticed that she was practically rotting, skin peeling off even as other patches grew back. It was hard to hide true revulsion, and Cassady had lived with that shadow, and even as young as she is she had started to resent it. But now, she is free, and she knows that free Cassady is a different story entirely.

The world seems bigger, brighter, more full of possibilities. She picks her way across the Meadow, where she and her family have been staying, and ventures into the Forest instead. The trees offer a relief from the bright white of winter elsewhere, though they are fewer in the dead of winter; she imagines that in the summer, the green is deep and luscious. Some snow has filtered to the ground here, in bright clumps, but fallen brown leaves make up the majority of the footing, crinkling underfoot. 

The purple girl lowers her nose to the ground, moving some snow and leaves half-heartedly before she looks up again, looks around. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting to see – it’s not like she knows anybody outside of her family, and just a few others. But she settles, cocking a hind leg, to people-watch and think. And maybe someone will come to her.

cassady

for a @[Toli] pony!

[Nier]

 NIER

Mmmm.. he could already smell the next one. Something young and sweet, a bit flowery like the meadow. He lounged in a massive tree like some big ass cat. An invisible one, of course. And it wasn't long until she was there, pretty purple little thing. He was bored, which meant he wasn't feeling too particularly picky. Sure she was a bit young for him maybe. But things could be worse.

So he watched from his perch, chewing --whatever the hell he'd been gumming up idly. Didn't matter, wasn't edible. Just chewing to chew. Quitters never quit and all that. And she walked up beneath him, dipped her pretty head to the ground and nosed at the snow. It was sort of cute. But there were better things to do, now weren't there?

He stood and stretched quietly. The leaves may have rustled, a bit like a ghost, and she looked up and around. This was good so far, nice and responsive. She could be promising. So he raised his wings and dropped down beside her with a cool burst of air. What? He couldn't summon up cold spots, chilly drafts would have to do. Ghost, and all. Except not. Better than a ghost, because he can touch. And touching was fun.

And he did, then. Touch her. He reached an invisible wing and drew the tips of his feathers down her spine. He loved to spook them, haunt them, see how they react. Watch their terror slowly grow. It was fascinating, really. And he was eager to see how this new one would respond to such attentions.

Damn, and she smelled good.

[Cassady]

you and I both know, the ghost is me

A sound catches her attention, and the purple mare freezes, tilting her head and considering the sound, because she can see nothing. No other horses in her immediate vicinity, and for that matter, no other creatures either. She is about to relax – perhaps it was harmless, like a bird taking off or a squirrel now out of her sight – when there is a flow of air across her purple hide, and it’s definitely not natural. Cassady knows “unnatural” and this fits the bill.

There is a surge of hope in her chest – a surge of hope that these are the first signs of a return of her power. The one where she can become – quite literally – a ghost herself. But just as she is thinking that it isn’t quite right – she is the one who should be nearly invisible in that case after all, and if she is ghosty, where are all the other ghosts? - there is a feather-light touch down her back, causing her skin to twitch in response, and she frowns, ears sliding back against her head.

It did feel exactly like the touch of a feathered wing – she should know. It feels the same as when her winged grandfather used to drape his inky black feathers over her at night before they settled down to sleep, and the same as when her winged sister leans into her affectionately. But there is nobody there. Perhaps, she thinks, her power is returning differently, or it is a ghost who can sense that she SHOULD be able to see them, but it’s just, she can’t right now.

Whatever she feels, it isn’t fear. She is nearly fearless – a mare who grew up with the ability to walk in Death, a mare who had powerful protectors as a child, a mare who is used to scaring people herself with a revolting half-dead appearance, a mare who doesn’t really even have fear written into her genetic code. “Hello?” she speaks, and her voice is light and pleasant and female. “If you’re a ghost, I’m not sure I can help you right now. I mean usually I can, but not since the fae took our gifts. Mine isn’t returned yet – or not fully.”

cassady

ooc; um, so the two of them could probably have SO much fun when Cassie gets her trait back and can actually shapeshift into a ghost, with telekinesis and everything.

[Nier]

 NIER

She froze. He smiled. They were off to a good start.
Her pretty eyes looked around, and then they got all hopeful and bright. He frowned. That was not the normal reaction, to be sure. What the hell was she so damn pleased about?

"Hello?" See, that's more expected, yeah. They tend to do that. But then she kept talking and things got weird. "If you're a ghost, I'm not sure I can help you right now. I mean usually I can, but not since the fae..." Yada-yada-yada. No more magic, yeah got it. He had that same problem once upon a time, til this friendly, ugly-ass beastie boy gave them back. Man, was he ugly.

Now he was comfortably invisible at all times. Much better. And she? Well, apparently she had something with ghosts. As he was attempting to be one, that was a little disappointing. But surely they could still find some fun, he was never on short supply of fun. So he stepped up fully to her side, wrapped a big wing around her and pulled her in close. Cute little hug or something. Girls like those, right? He lipped sweetly at her nape, took a nice good breath of her. Mmmm.

He thought he might say something, but you know, he didn't much feel like it. So he gave her silent attention instead, everything so sweet and kind like a long-lost friend. His rubbed his nose into her neck. And then he was gone. Stepped aside and gave her a breather, nice gaping lack of his warmth. He wasn't sure it would bother her, but that's why he does it anyway. See what gets her, what pisses her off or sets her aflame. He wanted to figure her out, this little purpled flower.

He walked quietly around to her other side from behind her, nice and slow as he looked her over. A good hard look, studying her curves and edges with an experienced eye.
She might be interesting.

[Cassady]

you and I both know, the ghost is me

No one responds to her query, but somehow Cassady is still not afraid. She stands perfectly still, as if stillness might make her malfunctioning power work better, and moves only her head, brown eyes narrowed to see if that will help her find the voiceless presence. It doesn’t, but she doesn’t give up hope. Carwyn had gotten her wings back, and grandfather his, so it only follows that she will at some point regain her own powers. And maybe – hope beyond hope – only the one she wants!

Cassie does jump when he presses against her, the heavy weight of his wing settling warm across her back, but then she leans into the pleasant touch, enjoying the feel of another living being. Perhaps a normal mare wouldn’t lean into an invisible stranger they think is a ghost, but she is near to being touch-starved. Kellyn wasn’t a good mother to begin with, and she had touched her half-rotting daughter as infrequently as she could to at least maintain some sense of affection between them. Brennen and Carwyn had been better, and were much better after the Reckoning had made her whole again, but nobody particularly enjoys touching someone whose skin is falling off – and certainly she has never had any romantic overtures or been touched by anyone who isn’t her direct family.

And then the touch is gone again; Cassady takes a half-step in the direction towards where he used to be, a small and rather sad sound escaping her throat. “Don’t go!” she bites back any more words, shakes her head, smiles into nowhere because she doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t even think to listen for his movement – after all, she thinks he’s a ghost and while she can touch them, incorporeal beings don’t usually affect the rest of the world. “I’m sorry, usually I can see and hear you.” she continues, in a lighter tone, hoping to tempt the warmth back. “That was nice – the touching. I hope you’re not too lonely.”

Some of her ghosts have been fine – well-adjusted, just simply dead. But some she encounters outside of death are desperate, stuck, and lonely. Sometimes they just don’t travel the same wavelengths as the other dead, and she is the first friendly face they’ve seen. Some are angry – though she knows her dead relatives who appointed themselves guardians of Cassie and Kellyn tend to keep those ghosts away. “I’m Cassady, by the way.”

cassady

[Nier]

 NIER

Her eyes narrowed, and she uselessly tried to find the other in her presence. She startled just a little at his embrace, but then immediately melted into it, a pool of purple warmth against his bare and unseen skin. The feel of her rubbed sweetly into him as his dark nose rubbed so sweetly into her. He liked her fragrance, something floral but wild like sage. Soft, pretty, but wild; all wonderful things in a fantastic combination. He smiled as he stepped away, eager to gauge her reaction to the acceptance and the loss.

One step followed him, with an almost sudden don't go that had his brows lifting. Surprised but intrigued he continued his path around her, studying her like a beautiful experiment. Trying to crack into her outer shell to the soft insides within. "I'm sorry, usually I can see and hear you," she said with a delicate shake of her head and a weak smile. He held back any response, for now, and she continued. "That was nice -the touching. I hope you're not too lonely."

Hmm, no not lonely. Never that. He simply had to find someone if he felt like it, move in and steal affection without their consent. Perhaps it was wicked in truth, but they always seemed to enjoy it so very much. It couldn't be all that bad then if it felt so good, right? Maybe it was a favor he bestowed. Maybe they had a lover that didn't sate their need for affection, and he could just drift in and give them a sweet dream to never feel guilty about. Because he wasn't real to them, he was never real. There and then gone again. Just a dream. Just a ghost.

"I'm Cassady, by the way."
Purple Cassady. Not a pale lavender, not a bright amethyst, but a deep and royal purple that faded like light shining across silk. He moved in on her right side, his heat sneaking and reaching for her first as he stood so near without touching. She could usually see and hear her ghosts, could she? Perhaps she could hear him too, but never see. Never see. Nobody sees.

Caasssadyy, he whispered softly, his mouth resting against her sweet hair behind her ear. She liked the affection though, didn't she? Was it friendly affection she wanted or something more? He pulled his lips away from her, letting his body heat beg for her to meet him this time, coax her closer in heated silence. There was a blurry line between hugs and kisses, which would make them from a friend or from a lover. He knew how to dance that line, back and forth if he wished, how to warp it just a little to earn entirely new reactions. He could be sweet, or he could be heat.

For now he would wait, let her open to him if she would.
Reward her successes with his rare voice and careful touch.

Bloom for me, little flower..

[Cassady]

you and I both know, the ghost is me

She should be running in the opposite direction, not leaning into his touch. Not smiling like a silly girl, as if she has no common sense to speak of. It is his luck that her powers lie dormant, because Bethanie and Sorenson would have advised her to run fast and far, and the Cassady that had grown up with two ghost-guides from the afterlife probably would have heeded their advice. It is his luck that he will have time to earn her trust and affection – however misplaced – before she can earn back her ghost shifting, and have once again two relatives watching her every move. His luck that she probably will tell them they’re the ones being ridiculous, when the inevitably voice their disapproval.

Or perhaps it is her luck. She seeks excitement and adventure, and she is way more likely to find it under his tutelage than theirs.

He’s moved around to her other side, stepping close, and she turns her head towards the feeling, jumping less this time than last when he nibbles behind her ear, down part of her neck. Her name falls from his lips softly, drawn out, and she grins in his general direction, delight lighting up her brown eyes. When he pulls away, she reaches out in return, finding his neck by sheer luck and then returning the grooming gesture, working her way down towards his withers, at the base of his wings. Her sister always said it itched there, just where the feathers met pelt, and when Cassie had been in a sisterly mood it had always been the place Carwyn most liked to be touched and groomed.

It isn’t that she doesn’t, perhaps, want more than friendly – but she doesn’t know anything about that. She doesn’t know how to flirt and touch in that way. This is the best she knows. “What’s your name?” she asks aloud, hoping that will be offered as well.

cassady

[Nier]

 NIER

Her pretty head turned toward him as he came around to her other side, sensing him, feeling the heat of him. He smiled, pleased, and nipped just a little behind her ear and down her smooth neck. Testing her, pushing her. Let's see just what makes you tick, little ghostflower.

A wistful little smile played across her supple lips as he spoke her name, dragged it out in his husky voice. Her eyes lit with a new shine of eagerness, interest, and they found their match glowing in his vibrant green eyes. Or would, if she could see them. And as he purposefully pulled away, she followed. His grin widened as she returned the attention, her deep purple muzzle lipping at his coat. From neck to shoulders to withers, she labored sweetly, and he hummed low at her careful administrations.

She nibbled and groomed where his wing met his solid muscle, and he dropped his wing for her, let it drag and rest against the earth. Mmm, he could get used to this. Most often he was the one giving and giving until they were hot enough to take. He supposed it was a little challenging to play back to someone entirely invisible, but he didn't mind. They were usually worth the time, worth the steady rise to boiling over in desire. Perhaps she would be too. Or perhaps this would not go that far.

"What's your name?" she asked him. He smirked, ever the secretive one at times like these, and only pulled out of her touch. He resettled his milky-white wings against him, and began his motions again. Steady steps took him around her, reaching out to drag his mouth along her, letting her watch him that way. Her neck became her shoulder, along her smooth spine to her hip. A sweet little nip there, simply out of curiosity. Mmm, yes she tasted as good as she smelled.

Then he continued on to the curve of her flank, his mouth slowing, lingering, before drifting away completely. Breaking the contact. He didn't fear his placement at her enticing hind quarters, didn't fear that she would kick him. Even if she did, he wouldn't care much. Name.. he finally repeated softly, remembering belatedly that she'd asked him for his.

His dark nose dragged along her again, tracing the contours of her deep purple figure til he was at her shoulder again. He groomed at her mane again, distracted. The truth was, he wasn't really interested in giving her his name. He loved to hear them moan it, that was true, but he wasn't sure he'd take this one that way. Wasn't quite decided on what to do with her just yet. So many possibilities.

He drew his lips to nibble behind this other ear, humming thoughtfully against her warm flesh. Mmm, he nipped at her neck, soothed it with a lingering kiss.

Name me.

[Cassady]

you and I both know, the ghost is me

He is moving again, walking around her, and she focuses on his movements. Even when he isn’t touching her, Cassie can feel the heat of him, the movement of air, just a sense. The touches are welcomed, and she leans into them, jumping a little when he nips at her hip. It doesn’t hurt – it wasn’t mean to – but it startles her all the same, and she leans away momentarily, eyes widening.

But, when he comes back he is gentle again, and she relaxes. When he speaks, she has almost forgotten that she asked a question. It has been a long time since she engaged in real conversation with anyone except her sister and her grandfather, so she’s not a great conversationalist either. He doesn’t answer the question, and the second nip doesn’t catch her by surprise. She parries this time by reached out to nip lightly back, judging where he is by the most recent of his touches. Like him, the touch is not meant to hurt, simply to engage in the game.

“I’ve never named anyone before,” she stalls. “Ghost seems so unoriginal. Also less like a name than a description.” A pause, a chance for him to offer his actual name, and finally she relents. “I’ll call you Vader, I guess. It’s something I’ll remember.” A name from her past, a snippet; her uncle on her mother’s side that she’s never met, but her uncle and grandfather occasionally reminiscence about. And, well, since she’s talking, she figures she might as well fill the silence. “I’m supposed to be on my way to Nerine. That’s where Grandfather and Carwyn, my sister, have gone; apparently we’re going to live there. Because we can’t live in the Tundra anymore.”

cassady