"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Darkness had fallen over the land, bringing with it a most beautiful freedom. One Haunt had never truly experienced before. There is nowhere the shadow creature cannot find sanctum, nowhere their feet cannot now stand. For the first time, they had stood upon the tallest cliff, wind whipping at their impossibly dark locks as they tasted the salt and sea from the most exposed points of Beqanna.
The crude, ambling beasts of the netherworld do not bother Haunt. A shadow is impossible to contain in a world made of shadows. The withering vegetation is of little concern. Not when it has never been the thing that sustains them.
No, all Haunt has ever needed is the darkness. And now, Haunt feasts. Much like the inelegant monsters feast on flesh and fear, Haunt feasts on the darkness shrouding the land. And when they had chanced upon one another in the darkness, gleaming yellow eyes meeting hungry orange, there had been an odd sort of understanding.
Haunt is no kind of meal to them, and as sharp teeth flashed behind impossibly dark lips, it had been clear they are more akin than either would care for.
And so they avoid one another, an unspoken truth kept deep in breathless lungs.
Instead Haunt frolics, pleased to have a world so welcoming at their disposal. It is easy enough to ignore suffering - they have been doing it all their life - but even Haunt cannot remain oblivious. The shadow does understand, even if it is only on the very edges of their consciousness. Mother and Father had instilled something akin to pity in them, and even if Haunt cares for little else, the creature does care for them.
So sometimes they pause. They pause to survey the world - an attempt to understand (for their parents’ sake). This is one of those moments. One of those pauses. A curious glance around a shadowed meadow, a gleaming yellow eye seeking someone else who might impart some kind of wisdom to sustain them until the next time they remembered.
The restless ghost had tried to study the creatures - to his utter disappointment they were what one should technically call alive. They might look like shadows, but they were corporeal enough. Most importantly they could be killed - killed by those do-gooders who thought they should get rid of them. Killed by those who hunted for sport. Killed by one another if they were of a different species. Killed by the same species in fights over territory.
Almost like ordinary predators, but much, much more magical.
He can feel that, the ghost scientist. His tie to the Afterlife is weird like that, magical in itself: it feeds him and it pulls him back when he visits the world of the living for too long. He's dead, or supposed to be, and yet the ghost can visit the living every now or then. On Samhain he can even pretend to be alive, but not for long. Truth is, the Afterlife now has another veil that was breached. Where one tear exists - one that he caused himself, but cost him his life, for what that had been worth - one tear was not enough. Monsters had been carried through it, like a tunnel, like a portal. It's fascinating, but the creatures themselves... so far, they seem a little boring.
Not this one though. This one isn't from their... dimension. This one belongs here, this one feasts on the darkness but not on the flesh of the living. Not on fear or pain. This one just exists.
This one is curious, just like the ghost is. This one is studying.
-have you been through the veil yet- The ghost appears not unlike the shadow has, and possibly with the same intent.
Observe. Study. Examine. Learn.
Not many know what it is to live for knowledge and nothing else.
Live. He smiles to himself. Language is so limiting.
No mind to think. No will to break. No voice, to cry out suffering.
02-25-2021, 10:11 PM (This post was last modified: 02-25-2021, 10:12 PM by BEASTIE.)
B E A S T I E
There are two of them gathered, which is odd enough these days. No one lingers in the darkness amongst strangers without reason, be it good or bad. The monsters are not easily placated. They accept no pleas.
The first one had caught her eye with their matching coats of black. Theirs is set off with green mane and tail whereas her stocky body has livid stripes of orange across her face and matching points on her legs. Strange colors are nothing unusual in this day and age, but to Beastie, no less interesting.
She gathers them, sometimes, to try on later.
She'd waited to decide on the best approach, her bright eyes unblinking. She wasn't afraid, is afraid of very little but darkly curious about everything, and she rarely rushes.
Another approaches and the second horse is what fully decides her. A shadowy creature, not fully of this world but with an intriguing transparency that Beastie knows she could never replicate.
The pair together now feel like a complete setting, a stage where her cue has been called.
Beastie steps forward out of the shade of her tree, shifting her coat silvery black until no orange remains but in her eyes. She catches the words of the ghostly appaloosa and speaks before his companion can answer, her tone light.
"Yet. Will you give instruction on how to rectify the situation if the answer is no?"
Haunt is not left long to wait. A good thing perhaps, given their penchant for easy distraction. In the unnatural night fallen over this world, it would be so easy to mistake the shadow for one of the other beasts (though to Haunt’s own eye, their body has an elegance to it the beasts cannot match). With the pitch dark body so perfectly suited to this darkness, gleaming yellow eyes are their most notable tell. Only the faint outline of their impossibly black body against the night indicates their equine stature.
The ghostly form that joins Haunt proves intriguing at first glance. They have been many places, but this is a sight rarely beheld. Even as a delight curls deep in the pit of their stomach, Haunt moves abruptly, eliminating what distance remains between them.
This close it is impossible to miss the ephemeral nature of the other’s physique, the hollow of his voice as he speaks, or the faint pall of death that clings so stubbornly to those the afterlife had claimed.
A grin stretches across Haunts lips, black teeth hidden in the shadows of the day.
Even as the other asks his riddling question, a second approaches. Haunt’s attention snaps swiftly to the newcomer, yellow eyes surveying this one with an eerie intensity. As the orange fades from her coat, Haunt tilts their head to eye the image she tries to create. It feels somehow incomplete, though Haunt could not hope to put words to that sensation. Or perhaps it is that they have simply grown used to the abyss of their own form.
The grin on their lips widens as she responds so precociously to the ghost. A sudden laugh escapes their throat as Haunt tosses their head in a way that could be seen as either childish or terribly unhinged.
Then, between one breath and the next, Haunt has vanished. The land of death is easy, and the ghost had left such a delightful calling card. In a breathless whisper in the ear of the spotted stallion (a whisper the orange-eyed woman couldn’t possibly hear), Haunt asks “Is this the veil you meant?”
Moments later, they are once more in the meadow, the shadows that had swallowed them spitting them out once more. Only now the creature stands uncomfortably close to the woman, who is most decidedly not dead. “There are so many veils. Do you intend to give me instruction on them all?”
03-03-2021, 08:44 AM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2021, 08:45 AM by Rajanish.)
Rajanish
Ah, what a lovely creature is this. The ghost giggles a bit when the shadow creature proves to be able to shift planes - at least, they can travel themselves, similar to how Raj crosses once a year. Sometimes, he feels stronger, like when he met the crazy woman with her shiny coat. She had called herself a leader, but was as easily manipulated as most. Perhaps on purpose, but the dead scientist had doubted it.
It was fun while it lasted, though. Similar as to this little meeting of theirs, and the shadow creature's trip to Rajanish' realm, and then back again. Nothing in life is a competition to a dead man, but it is good to know that there are non-dead creatures that can cross, and the intelligence is stored for later.
The woman - whose strips have disappeared (fascination is written on the appaloosa's face as the ghost, too, creeps closer to study her) - is not dead, yet she asks a question that could, to her, prove very, very dangerous. She doesn't seem to care. Raj does, in a way, though she shouldn't expect that this means he'll keep her safe. One warning is all anyone ever gets; sometimes none. - the first is always the easiest - he informs her. There: one warning indeed. Does she still want to try and pass? She'll have to be dead or very close to it. He could arrange it, he thinks; he just needs one small disease (not even on her, he can take the mould off a plant, though it's easier if he can use her own sickness - it's faster). The shadow could arrange it too, though it's not the same as passing and probably won't allow her to go through the next veil - the one where the monsters had come from.
- not instruction - the hollow ghost then answers the shadow; - discovery -
Venturing into the unknown is always a risk. If someone else wants to take it for him, so that he can record the results: all the better.
No mind to think. No will to break. No voice, to cry out suffering.
03-03-2021, 02:59 PM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2021, 03:06 PM by BEASTIE.)
B E A S T I E
She notes the dark one’s amusement with a flash of responsive humor in her orange eyes. Her coat ripples and changes, stripes of purple-black climbing up her legs and taking their place like a royal version of the exotic zebra. She cocks her head. Color shifting serves no offensive purpose, but it amuses her and she finds it useful as a tool for confusion and distraction. Often, however, the mare uses it to better suit her mood and environment.
When they disappear, it seems natural. The setting itself, ghostly, foggy and marked by anticipation, promises the unusual.
It’s rare for Beastie to feel as if she is the most alive and grounded in a group, but as they reappear, so close she can feel the strange cold from their body, she feels very solid and of the earth. She has never had contact beyond the veil, but her interest has always existed. Where others shy away, Beastie simply wants to understand.
To whoever’s detriment, even her own. Boundaries are meant to be broken.
She edges closer to the dark shadowy being as they speak, her side nearly making contact with his. It’s her subtle way of proclaiming that very little makes her uncomfortable or afraid. Death, after all, is just another world to learn.
Beastie shifts her focus to the translucent appaloosa, whose apparent fascination with her parlor trick she is vain enough to appreciate.
“I rarely agree to proposals which don’t outline the fine print.” she responds evenly. She isn’t a child, for all her curiosity, and while she isn’t in terror of the end, rushing heedless into the embrace of this stallion seems unwise. At least, for this purpose.
Still, she inwardly longs to know more, to know what the two of them see in the place beyond this one.
“And have you discovered much?”
She lets the question slip past her usual guardedness, aimed towards them both, her interest too much to bear.
It would be a mistake to imagine Haunt either alive or dead. They are neither, and somehow both. They do not require food, only shadow. Their heart does not beat and breath does not fill their lungs except to speak. They exist as something other. Something more and less at the same time.
The spotted stallion who calls himself a scientist would no doubt find all this both interesting and useful, but as fate would have it, Haunt makes a very poor test subject. Their whims are too fickle. He could not hope to hold the shadow for more than a moment, just as one could not hope to hold a wisp of smoke. The moment Haunt grew bored of such indecorous attentions, they would be gone as swiftly as an exhale.
For the moment however, Haunt is perfectly happy to play to the tune of the fiddle the ghost now plucks. It hardly matters that he knows of Haunts ability to traverse the afterlife. They could not part that particular veil for any but themself under normal circumstances. And now, with the borders worn so thin, any could cross if they truly wished it. Haunt merely takes advantage of a shortcut.
As the woman presses even closer, coat once more melting into stripes (these ones violet), Haunt hums in quiet contentment, pleased to have found a creature so free of boundaries as they are.
With a wickedly delighted gleam in their yellow eye, Haunt leans closer to the striped woman, whispering now in her ear. “I think our ghostly friend has great lusts and a frustrating impotence, don’t you?”
Grinning, Haunt withdraws abruptly, silent form moving forward, towards the ephemeral appaloosa. Head tilting, they address their newfound friend with a candid cheer. “You offer discovery but not a price. How will we ever know if you can afford it?”
The price is not for Haunt. After all, they have already discovered so much. Enough to keep the scientist busy for ages. But truly, what incentive does Haunt have to barter their time away for the amusement of a ghost? They would be bored within moments.
04-21-2021, 06:51 AM (This post was last modified: 04-21-2021, 06:51 AM by Rajanish.)
Rajanish
The dark and spotted ghost grins at both the other horses. They're so very much alive. Rajanish doesn't feel any sort of thrills any more, he has to live through others to make a connection to this world above.
He is a little disappointed, but then again can appreciate, that the mare doesn't give in to sheer curiosity at the cost of everything. She holds on to life, because it is what she knows - the ghost could argue that it is not over when one is dead, he is living proof, but perhaps her fears can keep her safe. For now.
What's interesting is that the shadow creature is much the same - living. This is what makes the ghost-stallion's head curl in their direction, then smiling. -I don't know. You don't either- That's the whole idea behind diving into the unknown, isn't it?
The mare's question is more intriguing. -the usual and more; this shape comes with limitations and with upgrades- As an example, he shifts right through her, ending up on the other side. Then, he moves to try the same with the shadow creature, hovering close enough to touch.
Can a shadow be touched by a ghost?
No mind to think. No will to break. No voice, to cry out suffering.
