|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Nov 25, 2016 11:37:36 GMT -6
Sarkany's story captivated Bruse as the man spoke. He especially took note of Sarkany's mention of hunting chaos and entities, which by the man's nod in his direction, he supposed meant he basically hunted metaphysical beings from time to time.
The man shrugged, "If you're hoping for a solution, I doubt there's anything in that. It was a normal life, all things considered."
Bruse waited a moment to be sure Sarkany had said everything he needed to. The spirit's mind then wondered again about the whispering one. Could she have been an entity of chaos? Perhaps something that latched on and never let go? He would never know for sure, but at least knowing some of Sarkany's past might give clues, even if his guess was far off.
"Do you think...your problem...came from your hunts?" Bruse offered, "Your past, especially dealing with spirits and chaos, may seem 'normal', but it is dangerous. Anything can happen when dealing with the dead and those not of the physical world. They can form...attachments. Possession. I personally do not desire such connections, perhaps due to my design, but others do. They crave...life. It's not much to go on, but it could explain some."
Bruse hesitated some, having noticed that Sarkany had indeed sunk back into a dull mood once they got back to the question of his past. He didn't necessarily want to dwell too long in something that was really none of his business, but if the man wanted help, Bruse was willing. "Perhaps there are no ready solutions, but knowing some truth to why pain and problems persist, can help. I don't mean to pry though. If you wish, we can focus on the boy." Tommy glanced up at Bruse briefly at the other spirit's mention of him and then smiled back to his mother.
Just then, Tommy turned away for a moment, looking at something. "Why are you standing over there? Come sit with us!" He got up and rushed over to the shadows, reaching out as if to take a hand.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Nov 25, 2016 21:26:29 GMT -6
Bruse seemed to lapse into thought at this explanation. Sarkany could guess which way the spirit's thoughts were turning - he'd followed the same line of thought many times, as far as he was allowed - and wondered if new eyes might see something he had missed.
"Do you think...your problem...came from your hunts?" Bruse offered, confirming his suspicion.
"It crossed my mind," Sarkany agreed dryly. But he shook his head as the spirit went on.
"You misunderstand," he said, holding up a cautioning hand. "We don't handle the dead. The Guard deals with time. Maintenance."
He glanced briefly at their elderly companion, who beamed back at him.
"A world ages like a mind," he said softly, looking back to Bruse. "It can begin to confuse the now with the past or the maybes, and things...twist. We remind it, and when we can't..." He shrugged. "Then I guess it becomes your problem."
The old woman, eyes on the nearby bulk of a park restroom, was struggling to her feet. Sarkany helped her up gently, accepting her affectionate pat of thanks. She was really not so different from the cases he had known.
"Maybe this is one of yours," he said. "We don't see the dead. It could be that I was possessed without my knowledge." And he shook his head. "But we devoted our lives to the Guard. If this were one of ours, I would know."
Surely. Surely he would know. He would sense it, even in this diminished state. But then, there were a good many things he couldn't sense. Sarkany didn't hear the spirit, couldn't see him. He had no warning as the young man called out to the flickering shade, and he knew it only when she snapped into agonizing focus.
Sarkany reared up as the whispers surged in his head, almost upending the table as he rose. There was fury, terror, and a desperate, overwhelming desire to look behind him. Meet Her eyes. He stood breathing hard, fingers curled savagely into the wooden surface. And then he forced himself to sit as though nothing had happened. The shadow had not moved - no, did not exist. He convinced himself of this.
"Tell him," he said to Bruse through gritted teeth, "not to do that again." In that moment, he hated the boy spirit. Envied him. He went on:
"If he can be helped, I'll try. That was - that is my job. And yours, from the sound of it."
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Nov 26, 2016 10:55:34 GMT -6
Sarkany continued, explaining to Bruse a few details about his role within something called The Guard. He especially found it interesting how the world was viewed as an aging mind, changing and twisting. Sarkany mentioned those who could not be 'reminded' then became his problem. What did all this mean?
"Maybe this is one of yours. We don't see the dead. It could be that I was possessed without my knowledge. But we devoted our lives to the Guard. If this were one of ours, I would know." Sarkany seemed thoughtful of the words he just said, almost unsure.
Bruse gave Sarkany a tilted look.
Just then, Sarkany tensed tremendously, half standing and almost knocking the table over. "Tell him..." He said, teeth gritting and gnashing together, "not to do that again."
Bruse turned to see the young spirit trying to interact with the shade. Bruse rose and went to the young man, pulling him a way without even a glance at the other. Bruse's touch gave Tommy a bit of solidarity and visibility, most likely due to the odd charm around the larger spirit's arm. "Now is not the time for company." Keeping his paw on the man's shoulder, Bruse steered him back to the table and sat him down, keeping a firm but gentle grip to allow the man to be seen.
"If he can be helped, I'll try. That was - that is my job. And yours, from the sound of it." Sarkany said once the strange, pained look left his eyes, although some still seemed to linger.
Bruse chuffed. "Ah, well. I don't often guide the dead. But if the need arises, I will do my best. There are other spirits better suited for it. But none that can be found here, at least not now. But tell me first, when you say 'one of yours and one of mine', what do you mean?" Tommy looked antsy where he sat, fidgeting and looking occasionally from where the old woman had gone to and to the shadows. Bruse had to nudge him a few times to get him to focus and leave well enough alone.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Nov 27, 2016 4:58:45 GMT -6
With the troublesome young spirit under Bruse's paw, Sarkany relaxed in his seat. It was exhausting, this endless back and forth between tension and calm, and for a moment he contemplated finding a quiet corner and simply flying for the woods. Of course, the young spirit might simply follow him, and he had never been one to put off his problems.
"When you say 'one of yours and one of mine'," Bruse was saying, "what do you mean?"
Sarkany blinked at him for an uncomprehending moment and smiled apologetically.
"Sorry. Old habit," he said. "I'm too used to thinking in jurisdictions. 'Yours,' I'm assuming, is the dead - spirits and ghosts and the like. 'Mine' would be living entities. Temporal anomalies. A Dreamer, if we're very unlucky."
He glanced briefly at the boy shade tucked under Bruse's paw, and then at the white haired figure making her stiff way back to them through the crowd.
"But I think we should deal with these two first," he said, mechanically returning the old woman's smile. "They're definitely 'yours,' so I'll follow your lead."
At this, the humming shade seemed to radiate content. Sarkany saw the shape flickering its satisfaction from the corner of his eye and turned back to the table.
"Within reason," he continued, speaking to no one - to all of them. "Try anything, and I can promise you will regret it." His voice was light, carrying no hint of the threat, but it glinted savagely in his eyes as he spoke.
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Nov 27, 2016 13:37:15 GMT -6
Bruse lowered his eyes at Sarkany's words. He knew the man still didn't trust him. Probably never would. But then, the task at hand needed to be done, and so Bruse nodded in compliance to Sarkany's warning.
He turned to Tommy. "I think it's time that we complete this final night for you. Is there anything else that you and you living relative used to do together? Something that would satisfy your longing to fulfill your reasons for remaining here?"
Tommy thought for a moment. "Well," He said at length. "We always used to ride the Ferris Wheel together. At the top, and watch the fireworks from the highest point. It was her favorite. And mine." He watched his mother hobble back to the table, looking somewhat more tired than she'd started from earlier in the night. Bruse thought he saw something about her that alarmed him, but he kept it to himself. He suddenly felt he knew what needed to be done, although he was surprised he hadn't seen it before. He wondered if the presence of her son's spirit, although hidden from her, might have triggered it...
"Come then, little one." He said. "Sarkany...I think I may know what must happen. Tommy may not be the only one with...final wishes to fulfill here on Earth." Tommy looked up at Bruse, confused, but Bruse ignored him. Instead, Bruse rose and began to make his way to the Ferris Wheel. Tommy followed, keeping a hand on Bruse's arm as they went. The old woman, who now seemed to ignore the two spirit's presence as she approached, went to Sarkany.
"Tommy, you and I should go to the Ferris Wheel." She said, as if to repeat what the spirits had just said, "I know how much you love the Ferris Wheel and the fireworks! Momma's getting tired though, so let's make it quick." She reached out a knobbly hand to Sarkany.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Dec 1, 2016 13:33:48 GMT -6
Sarkany looked dubiously up at the massive, turning contraption, trying to work out the why and how of it. He couldn't understand what fun humans got out of the thing. Slow and repetitive - and somewhat rickety, he thought - it looked to him like an awkward scrap of spinning metal and faded paint. But the withered hand was outheld and waiting, and after a moment Sarkany took it in his own.
Something in her grip, her butterfly pulse, gave him pause. His gaze flickered to her face and held there, and Sarkany hesitated. If he acted now - he wouldn't think of flying such an old, frail creature anywhere, but human transportation might do - perhaps something could still be done, and the vague thing pricking at his intuition might be lightened or averted altogether.
He shifted his weight and made as if to speak. But he stopped before his concern could voice itself.
She was standing at the woman's shoulder, arm to arm like an old friend. They were not quite touching, but She was as close to the human as he had ever seen her come to a living being before. As he looked on, She shook her head. The sight of Her stirred up the old, unwelcome emotions like dust in an empty room, but now there was also a peculiar feeling of shame. Sarkany averted his eyes, and there was a measure of peace in conceding.
"Alright," he said softly to them. "Let's go."
The walk to the Ferris wheel passed strangely. In his resigned calm, it sometimes seemed as though Sarkany's steps were not his own. There were even times when he seemed to doze in his own body, mind slipping back into awareness with no sense of the passing time. But he remembered one thing clearly: the woman had purchased their tickets, waving away his own attempts to pay. As they climbed into the gondola and she tucked the change back into her purse, she pulled something from the inner pocket and fell still, finger tracing its faded surface.
Sarkany craned his neck slightly to look down at the little picture. It was old and worn, bent around the corners, but still clear. There was the youth, smiling and tall, even then towering head and shoulders above his mother. There were no wrinkles yet on her features save for the crows feet around her eyes as she laughed, preserved.
Sarkany smiled too, looking down at the image. Reaching back through the long gone years for memories of his own mother, he ventured a compliment that he imagined might please her.
"He looks a good, strong son."
"He was," she murmured, holding the picture as though it held all the light in the world. And they watched the world fall away beneath them in brief silence.
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Dec 2, 2016 11:39:02 GMT -6
The trip to the Ferris Wheel was almost too quiet. Bruse had looked back to Sarkany and thought he saw some sort of realization in the man's eyes, similar to what he himself had felt. He sighed and looked down at the other spirit. "Well, here we are. I'll be close by, but this is on you now."
Once the others had climbed aboard the ride, Bruse floated into the air, body taking on a slightly misty quality. The ride started and the wheel began to turn slowly, lifting the gondola containing Sarkany and the woman into the air. He couldn't help but see the entire thing as one big, ironic metaphor. Bruse watched as the other spirit sat close to his mother, looking between her and Sarkany.
She had brought out some sort of picture by now and Sarkany leaned in to look at it. From his vantage point, Bruse could make out some sort of family photo, showing a much younger version of the woman with her son. Perhaps she was beginning escape her denial a bit...
"He looks a good, strong son." Sarkany said, Bruse guessed it an attempt to lift the veil a bit more.
"He was," Tommy's mother murmured, quietly holding the picture. Tommy looked as if he were about to cry when she said this, and he looked down at the bottom of the gondola, as if to hold back his own tears. Looking back up at Bruse, the larger spirit nodded in Sarkany's direction. Tommy then looked at Sarkany and spoke. The entire situation seemed to lend the spirit some residual energy as he was able to manifest a bit despite not having any contact with Bruse. "Would you mind if I...." His words dropped off, as if unable to continue, ashamed and yet longing, his eyes hooded and forlorn. "I..I just need...one final moment. I need your help."
|
|
|
Post by MP on Dec 27, 2016 21:48:56 GMT -6
Sarkany was uneasy as the flimsy little construct climbed steadily into the air. How these bits of scrap stayed together and how much longer they would hold was anyone's guess. His unease was not helped by the gondola's other occupant, whose heart fluttered like a bird in its ribcage. He couldn't hear it in this shape, but he felt it. He sensed the end hovering on the horizon like a swath of storm clouds, and he knew it wouldn't be much longer now. The thought made him a little sad, not just because of the peculiar half memory this human and spirit pair seemed to bring out in him, but also because the woman had been nothing but kind to him since kidnapping him from his park bench. A kindness born of confusion, perhaps, but even that counted for something.
So when the young man's flickering spirit manifested in front of him, words falling palely into the air between them, Sarkany's aversion faltered. A small, sardonic thought chimed in that, if he refused, there would likely be three dissatisfied ghosts tethered and following him around. He glanced at the frail figure beside him and then folded his fingers in his lap in a gesture of resignation.
"Go ahead," he said, and let his own thoughts go grey and small as he waited for the spirit to do whatever it would.
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Dec 31, 2016 17:15:56 GMT -6
Bruse watched as Sarkany sat still, waiting for the boy to do what he must. Although Bruse had seen many possessions, not many of them very nice or pretty, this particular case humbled him. It was fascinating to witness, and he admired how willing some would be to help those who had passed, even someone as reluctant as Sarkany. The boy reached and touched Sarkany's arm, a gentle gesture that was none-invasive, but more like a guest entering through invitation. It was not forced, or unwanted, and there was no sign of spiritual struggle that Bruse was so accustomed to seeing when a spirit or demon would thieve the body of the living, imprisoning a mortal in their own head. No, this was different.
Once the boy's spirit began to absorb into Sarkany, he made his presence and intentions known.
"I won't pry, I promise." The boy said in Sarkany's mind, letting his host know that he did not intend to abuse the privilege of using Sarkany's physical form to communicate. Once in place, and with only taking control of Sarkany's voice and hands, the boy reached and took his mother's hands. "Mom..." He said, low at first. The old woman looked up at him, without the slightest bit of surprise.
"I knew you were there, Tommy." She said, voice crackling slightly. "I always knew you were there." She gave Sarkany's hand a small squeeze.
"I've missed you, Mom. I didn't want to leave you. I'm sorry."
While the two interacted using Sarkany's physical body, Bruse rose quietly from behind and sent a stream of thought-speech to Sarkany within his mind. "If you need me, I'm here." He said, the thought sounding like a deep mental echo.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Jan 6, 2017 12:02:34 GMT -6
Sarkany drifted, almost slumbered in his own mind as Tommy spoke through his voice. To watch this exchange would be an intrusion - even if the body was his own. But he still felt the first word, "Mom," drop like a stone from his tongue, a foreign shape formed by an unpracticed tongue. In his thoughts he turned away, leaving both mother and son to themselves. There was a voice waiting for him in the nothing.
"If you need me, I'm here." came Bruse's voice, deep and echoing in his mind.
Sarkany's control was perfect. There was no hitch of recognition or response in the borrowed body; his answering thought was grey and smooth as a winter pond.
"Stay out of my head, please."
The Shadow swarmed quietly in the corners of his consciousness. It was a wonder how many people could crowd and jostle into one mind. And there was not much of his left. Did the holes not concern them? Perhaps they only made it easier to get in.
Sarkany allowed the musings to wither and fade. He drowsed and rested until, at length, it occurred to him that he had neither moved nor spoken in a long time. The gondola was descending, inch by uneven inch, toward the ground. Sarkany stretched and found that the movement was wholely his own. He felt no sign of the young spirit's presence.
The woman had drifted off in the silence. She seemed disoriented when he shook her gently awake, but she went with him willingly enough. He shepherded her from the ride and into the humming crowds, feeling almost protective. A silly thought. Why get attached to such a frail, temporary creature? It wouldn't even be very long now.
"I'll take her home," he said to Bruse, quietly.
She probably didn't need his help for that. With the boy spirit gone, she seemed drained and small, her movements mechanical, drifting like a stream-swept leaf towards some inevitable end. It would be enough to accompany her back.
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Jan 8, 2017 11:01:46 GMT -6
"Stay out of my head, please." Came Sarkany's response. Bruse could almost laugh. This one certainly was distrusting, and whether he was speaking to the boy or to Bruse was uncertain, but once again Bruse could not blame him. At least he was there, quiet but unharmed, and the boy spirit hadn't crossed any boundaries.
"All is well outside." Bruse assured, and remained hovering near the gondola to keep watch. Although he could telepathically communicate with Sarkany, Bruse remained out of Sarkany's mind. He had no need to try and connect like the boy did. Sharing a mind was something Bruse had only done twice in his entire time on Earth, and even then, it was different from this sort of possession-sharing. After a while, Bruse heard no further communication from Sarkany, and came to the assumption that he had probably retreated to some distant corner of his mind to wait it all out. From outside of the man's mind, Bruse had no idea what kind of exchange was going on between Sarkany and the boy, but he could only guess that they had some sort of agreement while the connection was made, otherwise he would see the familiar signs of a struggle from Sarkany, sweating, vocalized pain, and sometimes even seizure-like thrashing. Signs that Bruse was used to seeing in the presence of evil or demonic possession.
For a while, Tommy conversed in a low, shaky voice with his mother, and his mother replied weakly with a likewise shaky voice. Overall, it consisted mostly of memories, reminiscing on old times, favorites at the festival, and Tommy's childhood. After a moment, the two went quiet, and Bruse could see that they both seemed to be softly crying. Tommy took his mother into his arms, hugging her tightly, with a mixture of sadness and happiness on his face. When he finally let go, his mom slumped back into her seat, still alive but very weak, and Tommy rose from Sarkany's body. His own form had taken a much more faded look, like an afterimage lingering where a picture had once been.
"...Tommy?" Bruse asked, hovering close to the boy's form. Reaching out, the form swirled beneath Bruse's paw, loose and distant. He too was weak, fading, and in a quiet slumber-like trance. Just then, Sarkany gave a long stretch, as if he was waking from a long nap. He gave the woman a gentle shake, and she returned in a state of confusion. Already her own spirit was drifting, its edges visible around her form. Her time was drawing near an end.
Bruse nodded at Sarkany's statement of taking her home. As they made their way off the ride, the larger spirit followed, keeping a close eye on the woman as well as Tommy, who seemed to be in the same mechanical auto-pilot as his mother. There was a single thread that was now attached to his mother's spirit, and Bruse noticed that the boy was no longer attached to Sarkany. As sad as it looked, Bruse was relieved that when the woman did pass, perhaps the two could continue on from this world together, and neither had to be alone any longer. Once they'd made it just outside of the festival, and shiver ran through the old woman's aura, and she began to drop to her knees. There was a light, like a halo, that began to glow around her edges, cascading and pulling as if to escape some dark trap. The woman's breath was labored, tired, and as she laid back, her eyes fluttered up at the form that was Sarkany. "My son....where is my son..."
"I'm here, Mother." The boy said, now clear as day. He too had the same glow to him, illuminating him in a light that seemed to take him back to how he must have looked when he was alive, crisp and clear. Kneeling down, Tommy grasped his mother's hand, and a soft smile spread across the woman's face. Bruse looked to Sarkany, calm and somber. "It's time." Already, she was beginning to pass, her spirit clinging just barely to her form.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Jan 8, 2017 12:22:19 GMT -6
Sarkany caught the woman as she dropped to her knees, lowering her carefully to the ground. She weighed hardly anything at all, her frame light and fragile as a bird's. The thought made his heart hurt, and he stood and stepped away even as he boy shade came forward. Other humans came running toward the still figure, some shouting for help, an ambulance.
"It's time," the voice spoke into his mind.
As they gathered around her, jostling and buzzing, Sarkany turned away for the last time and vanished into the crowd. Let the creature watch if it wanted. He had no desire to see more, or to be seen.
He walked mindlessly, hands in his pockets, eyes to the calming skies. Eventually the crunch of pavement turned to grass beneath his feet and the stars were soon lost behind a veil of treetops. When he came to a lonely bench, he sat down upon it with a small sigh. He had come to the park again - maybe even to the same bench where this had all started. It was quiet now, and dark with the fireworks over. He could see Her sitting on the empty space beside him from the corner of his eye, Her face a blur. There in the dark beside him, She seemed small and harmless.
"You got what you wanted," he said softly. "Are you happy now?"
No, he felt dissatisfaction still. An almost bitterness. For once, he listened. Her whispers were soft and indistinct, like something heard from a long way away. He couldn't even make out the voice. Perhaps She wasn't saying anything at all. Or perhaps he couldn't hear.
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Jan 11, 2017 16:36:24 GMT -6
A crowd began to gather, giving Bruse a wide berth, to group around the frail old woman. He took a few nervous steps backwards as a few of them gave him sideways, accusing glances. The glares were a stark reminder of his visibility due to the prop on his arm, and the fact that he was still among a supernatural festival sent an even more alarming thought through his mind. Did they think he caused this? Bruse backed away slightly, exiting the surrounding crowd, before turning to walk away so that he would not be such an eyesore, or worse, a suspect in this unfortunate event due to his dark image.
Despite removing himself from the crowd, Bruse gave a final glance back to witness the boy and his mother, now both spirits, rise up from the body below. They seemed so happy, finally reunited and as they drifted apart from this world into the next, Bruse couldn't help but feel a small pang of sadness. He was glad they could be together, but the loneliness he felt in their wake was something he had never quite gotten used to, even after witnessing death among the mortals on many occasions. They always went...somewhere. And yet, he remained, without ever quite belonging in the first place.
The prop rolled about on Bruse's arm, reminding him that he needed to return it to its owner. Just as the thought occurred to him, a voice sounded from behind him and he looked back to see the old man. "Great! Just great, yeh've dun 'em a service, yeh have! I'd come here ter collect meh prop, gunna need it fer the next sorry soul. Wanted teh tell yeh you'd dun good by them too though, sonny." Bruse removed the prop and handed it to the man. Once removed, Bruse's image disappeared from the view of mortal eyes once more, and the old man winked before turning on his heel and strolling back the way he'd come. For a while, Bruse stood and watched him before remembering Sarkany. He'd gotten up from helping the old woman down, was he still in the crowd?
Lifting up into the air, Bruse soared overhead to get a better view of the people gathered below. No sign of Sarkany. Perhaps he too wanted seclusion, away from the mass of people. From his vantage point, Bruse thought he could see a figure walking away towards the park, some distance from the light of the festival. Drifting forward, Bruse followed quietly, and as he caught up, he saw Sarkany seat himself on an empty bench. He looked tired, perhaps sad, most likely a little of both. And the shadow was with him.
For a moment, the two sat in silence, before Sarkany spoke to the whispering girl, "You got what you wanted," he said softly. "Are you happy now?"
Bruse was above them, gazing down with worried eyes. Sarkany was speaking to her, and then she spoke back, which was something he thought he'd never see after all the times Sarkany would pretend and insist that she not be acknowledged or spoken to. The sounds she made was incoherent, even to Bruse, and he wanted so badly to get closer so that he could hear. Settling gently to the ground, Bruse landed some distance behind them, and laid down onto the grass. He didn't want to intrude, especially with Sarkany's current state. He still didn't understand the burden that Sarkany carried with him, and perhaps he never would. Sarkany wasn't like most of the mortals or supernaturals that Bruse had met over the years. He wanted to help, but was still unsure of how exactly he could do so. For now, though, Bruse figured it might be best to wait. Their paths were sure to cross again, and in the meantime, perhaps the feeling of Bruse's presence, watchful and protecting, was all that Sarkany needed after a night like this.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Jan 18, 2017 12:16:56 GMT -6
With no response given or expected, Sarkany settled back on his bench with a sigh. Back where he'd started after all that. And yet, he did feel somehow changed, as though some small stone in the corner of his conscious had finally shifted and cleared the way for a landslide. He supposed there was no harm in that - to feel glad for those two.
He glanced again to the hazy figure and saw not the empty face, but the back of the dim head as She stared at something. He followed Her gaze to the empty grass. A brief, wary stare. And then he laughed softly, understanding.
"Followed us, did you?" he said. "Going to grow a tether of your own at this rate."
He raised his hands in a peaceable gesture, though he couldn't guess Bruse's exact position. Krahe. Not to be ungrateful. I realize you didn't have to help."
A pause.
"I suppose I wasn't entirely fair to you," he added, softly. It was as close to an apology as he would get.
He fixed the spirit - or its rough location, at least - with a measuring look. It was strange that Bruse was still here, now that the two were gone. Why had he followed this far? Sarkany considered being suspicious and then let the idea go. He didn't really believe the creature meant him harm anymore.
"Are you here for..." he began, and trailed off, turning mind and body away from the end of that thought. He simply nodded at the spot beside him, trying not to think of the vague occupant waiting there. Another thought occurred to him, and his voice curled wryly. "Well, I'm not about to kick the bucket any time soon, so don't expect another easy out."
|
|
|
Post by Pearl Dragon on Jan 27, 2017 10:10:42 GMT -6
"Followed us, did you?" he said. "Going to grow a tether of your own at this rate." The girl was now staring back at Bruse, causing Sarkany to notice Bruse's presence. The thought of forming a tether to Sarkany as well was a humorous thought, but Bruse doubted such a thing would ever happen. Earth spirits were strange in how they worked, but Bruse himself had never quite held that sort of tethered connection to a mortal, only a close bond through loyal friendship and even that was rare.
"Krahe. Not to be ungrateful. I realize you didn't have to help." Bruse gathered a sensed feeling from the first unfamiliar word and deciphered it with a forgiving meaning. The rest was clear to him, but he lowered his eyes in thougtful silence. Perhaps the man would learn to trust Bruse some day, and perhaps not, but this seemed to be a start. The large spirit would have answered in kind, but a small wave of exhaustion swept through him and so he remained quiet for the time being, allowing Sarkany to continue to apologize, though Bruse thought it was unnecessary.
Just then, Sarkany gazed fixedly in Bruse's direction. "Are you here for..." Bruse looked up at him with a questioning look. "Well, I'm not about to kick the bucket any time soon, so don't expect another easy out." He was assuming Bruse was there to now help with his problem of the whispering shade. Bruse stood from where he lay and slowly approached the man on the bench. The air would become chilled the closer the spirit got, and as he leaned over Sarkany's shoulder, he spoke in the man's ear in a deep whisper. "I can help." He said distantly, "When you're ready."
|
|