Ouch Charlie, That Hurt (Solo)

[Aello]

Timestamp: Fall 42, 512 AV Location: Somewhere between Ravok and Syliras The sun had fallen earlier than before. It always did, this time of year. Aello had watched it dip behind the line of trees, as the campfire she'd built smoldered before her. She watched the orange-yellow flame dancing. Casting elongated shadows across the uneven terrain as it charred the kindling. Licked the underside of the teepee formation; long strips of wood she had gathered in her travels. She listened to it crackling, as it spit slender tendrils of gray smoke. Spirals which rose to a blanket of black, an overcast night. Leading it to greater darkness, now that the world was devoid of Zintila's sparkling stars. With her legs folded, Lily managed to find comfort upon her left knee. Her legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth periodically. A kick enough to make the huntress jerk unwillingly if she were not careful. In her hands she held a single raven feather fletched arrow. The dark strips falling away from central stalk. She fanned them lightly with her fingers, stretching them a moment, before they fell back into place. Lily watched with unblinking gaze as Aello's muddied irises swept over the adornment. Making note of all the darkened grains which settled between the fronds. Smiling weakly as she bit her bottom lip, Aello fanned the feathers again, before tightening her grip on the shaft, and pressing the thumb and pointer of the other together. She held them stiffly a moment, before spreading them slightly, and dragging them against the feathers, as softly as she could, so she could rid the black of brown beads. Dirt, which would only serve to hinder their flight. When finished with the first feather, Aello twirled the arrow between her fingers, and moved onto the next of the three, and so on and so forth, before grabbing another arrow from her quiver, and slowly, working at cleaning that one off as well. After a time, the stilled air that surrounded stirred. Rustling the leaves on the trees that had yet to fall, causing the remaining grasses now brown and dying, to sway, and her hair to whip wildly around. After having tousled to its satisfaction, the wind trickled away, but the cool air it left behind did not, causing a shiver to shoot up the length of Aello's spine. She could feel its touch weaving between her knobbed bones as she set her currents arrow down, and retrieved another, soon setting to work. "We're not alone Lily," she whispered, without looking up from her latest. Leaving the young pycon to look around for something she likely couldn't sense, let alone spot on her own. A wary smile then, crept across Aello's lips as she continued on, waiting for the entity to reveal itself. For a time, nothing happened, although Aello's unease stirred, which lent only to quicken the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The pace at which her heart drummed. But after several chimes, the ghost the spiritist had sensed had the care to show itself. It was a taller ghost, although it did hover off the ground in slight, no more than two or three inches. Even so, it was about six feet tall, or close, from what the huntress could guess, and well built. With broad shoulders, a portly belly, and what women oft called thunder thighs. It wore simple white trousers, and matching upper linens, with ripped sleeves, and a slender line of blood running from elbow to wrist. Soiled leather boots covered oversized feet, and a dirk hung from a simple chorded belt. It appeared to be dyed hemp, although the aurist couldn't be certain. A rounded face with low cheek bones, thin lips stretched from cheek to cheek, a faded pink, a hooked nose, and soft green eyes finished the appearance. Muted in death. Fading, wisping about the edges. Lily said nothing as she caught sight of the strange ghost, although her mouth hung slightly ajar. Aello merely smiled weakly as she looked up from her arrows. Watched as the ghost tilted his head to the side, sending blonde curls spiraling down the length of his forehead. Inwardly, the girl could sense that he was questioning why her thigh was glowing. Why something had called out to him- her cursed dagger, touched by the hands of Rhysol and Dira alike. But she was wrong. Her spiritist senses, although tingling, were incorrect. The ghost was not considering the cursed blade, but something of another sort. "Why does it hurt to die?" the ghost inquired, leaving the aurist to blink several times in confusion, as her brow contorted. Furrowing to display as much. "You do realize you're asking a living person why it hurts to die, don't you?" Aello responded, her tone level, despite all that surged within her. The ghost nodded. Unsure of how to respond, the huntress merely passed her fingers over the length of her arrows, in the hopes that it would buy some time. As she worked this method, she could see her companion mouthing, "something has been lost on this one," leaving her lips to curl into a greater grin. "Why are you asking?" inquired the aurist. "Because I'd like to know, why it has to hurt so much to perish," responded the ghost. "Why do you think I'd know?" Aello asked, "considering Lily and I both have yet to face Dira's scythe. To tread along the length of that path." "I was guided here," said the ghost. "It must have been for a reason. To answer the single question, I've always wanted the answer too, since it happened. Anyway..."

[Aello]

"Guided here?" Aello inquired. "How?" "I just closed my eyes and allowed my senses to lead me. My heart, really. And when I felt as though I'd gone far enough I opened my eyes and here you two were," the ghost explained. "And you can see me." "What do you mean? Anyone can see you, as long as you choose to reveal yourself to them," Aello responded, before falling silent a moment, as she considered her words and how best to respond to this rather peculiar ghost. "Although, you're right, a spiritist is more likely to sense you than the common folk, if you decide you don't wish to be seen. Or perhaps, don't have enough of the mist left to make yourself known." She paused again, allowed herself to lick her crackling lips. "Ghosts get tired too, although they have no need for sleep, they still deplete, in a way." It was then she offered him a weak smile as the wind picked up. Tousling her long mane of hair. "What are you talking about? Anyone I walk up to, talk to... they don't see me, or hear me at all," the ghost commented. "Perhaps they don't want to," Lily snickered, as a delicate laugh followed. Spilling over her lips like water over rock. Waterfalls cascading down the length of a cliff. Aello turned towards her companion. Her muddied irises darkening as she offered a dark glare, instantly shutting the young pycon up. She smiled weakly then, as she turned back to the ghost. "What Lily here means to say is, perhaps they didn't know what to do with you... say they'd never seen a ghost before. Talking to one can be a tad frightening. Perhaps even, they thought you some perplexing figment of their imagination. Each of your words a hallucination, pointing a finger at their impending complete lunacy." Her eyes sparkled as her lips curled into an even wider grin. Her eyes shifting to the pycon momentarily, before rising to meet the faded as a silence stretched between them. "Or perhaps, as was said before," began the young spiristist, "you weren't exuding enough of your body's make, your soul mist to be seen by them, and being as you have likely not run into another of my kind, they couldn't sense you." She paused. "That is no fault of their own." Again, Aello's smile widened. "But we digress. You said you were drawn to this place to find the answer to a very important question, if it could ever be found: why does it hurt so much to die?" The girl shuddered, it wasn't a very heart warming question. One that seemed to drive all warmth, even away from the fire. Crackling, spitting tiny fireflies. Sparks, as it continued to char and curl the kindling. "So let us delve into it then. Why does it hurt so much to die?" Aello asked as she leaned forward a little. Driving her face towards the fire. Allowing the heat to lick the edges, as shadow danced over. Again she shifted, closing the gap that rested between them, forcing her companion to mold to her form, lest she had the desire to be crushed. "Tell us then, dear strange ghost, just in what manner did you die?" The wind whistled, playing in tune to the wolves that howled off in the distance. Soon, the sounds tapered off, but the ghost's voice, as solemn and alone, did not pick up. Did not fill the emptiness. Aello, uneasy, cleared her throat. "Tell us stranger, just how did you come to die?"

[Aello]

The ghost remained silent for a long time as his body pulsed. The outer edge fading, as he had. It seemed the tip of a candle. The wisp of flame before all blew into spirals of grey smoke. The girl's eyes were fixated on his own; one over which a grey sheen hung, as though he had been blinded. Finally, his lips parted as he blinked another time. He seemed to like to blink; and not from here to there. "That is difficult to say," the ghost replied. "For I do not know the manner of my death. Although, I have often thought on it. What could of occurred." He paused a moment, as though considering his words. "I know in that moment of death, that my heart hurt greatly. That it felt as though someone had driven their hand past my ribs and into my chest. Had grabbed the organ, and squeezed it with all of their might. Until it could no longer pump, and my blood ran down their fingers." Again, the ghost paused as he waded a little closer to each of the companions, huddling next to the fire. A heat he could no longer feel upon his skin. A warmth, he would never again, truly love and know. "I know also that my sides ached, and there was a sharp shooting pain by my hip. Like when you cut your finger on a piece of paper, but worse. So much worse, as though someone had jammed a nail in it. Or a spike. Something long and sharp." Aello nodded, "which hip?" she asked, not so sure why she had, why it mattered at all. "The right." There was a short pause, for no one knew what to say then. "So what were your thoughts?" Aello asked. "How do you think you died? You said you had some ideas of your own." The ghost shrugged its shoulders. "I suppose someone murdered me. That I was stabbed, although I wouldn't know why, considering how wildly accepted I was. No one should have wished me ill will. Even so, it remains possible that someone drove a dagger into my side. A knife, a nail. A spike." He paused, "and yet, with the speed in which my life fled, and the area that would have been afflicted, it does not seem enough. It is said there isn't an organ there that when pierced would have caused me to die. And blood, it could not have flowed away quickly enough to have me die of loss. And if it had... I didn't feel its cool air. The way it trickles down the skin. Nor do I remember feeling dizzy, as one does when it has drained." The ghost fell silent. "It is possible you had enemies in places you didn't know," Aello whispered. "Or someone killed you by mistake." The ghost looked at her with a puzzled expression. "You may have looked like someone else they wanted to kill." She paused. "Either way, it sounds like you were stabbed. But... there is no blood on you now, which means, you either don't see yourself as dead, or there was none... it is said your kind shows themselves as they want to be seen. Or how they remember being seen. So perhaps that is why you don't depict it. You were never sure if it was there." Again, each group fell silent. "Do you remember which came first?" Aello asked. "The pain in your chest, or the one by your side?" The ghost shook his head. "Why does it matter?" "The pain you describe sounds like that experienced by those whose hearts fail them. Perhaps, if you were stabbed, you grew so greatly filled with fright, that it gave out, leading you to your death," Aello explained. "Although it doesn't truly matter, I suppose. You're dead now, the manner of death hurt, and that is more than understandable. The moment of your death should have hurt all things considered. And yet... you should know that, shouldn't you? So what keeps you tied to this plane if you know the answer to the question whose answer you seek already? Is it that you want to know precisely how you died, with a certainty before you go? Or is it something else, that weighs more heavily on the confines of your mind? And this question was a mere ploy of sorts? To see if either of us knew what the petch we were talking about?" Aello fell silent as the wind picked up. Whipping her chestnut colored hair wildly about her. Sending the sparks the fire spit flying, and the smoke in the opposite direction of where she and Lily sat. "A test, to see if we were worthy to serve in any way we could?" the huntress finally wore on. "Surely, there is something else on your mind then. You had to know all of this before you came to us. It is only common sense. So what is it? What is on your mind? What is your true question? And the real reason why you remain in this world? Unable to return to the cycle?" Your unfinished business.

[Aello]

The ghost remained silent for several moments before he spoke again. "Perhaps you misunderstood the question," he began. "I know why it hurt to die in that final moment. Where life gave way to what came after, but not why it hurt after. Why I still hurt after having died," explained the ghost, causing Aello to raise a single brow. "As was mentioned before, neither of us is dead, so it would be difficult to say, considering how we never experienced this ourselves," the spiritist began. "However, some assumptions could be made. Perhaps, you have stayed behind because you feel an emptiness. A sort of longing for a certain sense of understanding. Of things- ranging from your life, to the people in it, to the manner of your death." Aello shrugged. "Your unfinished business lying somewhere within all of that. That hole within your heart." She paused, "is that the sort of pain you are describing stranger, a void? Where all should be filled? Complete, now that time is up?" The ghost considered a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "No, I do not feel empty," it responded. "Or, at least, I don't think I do." "Then perhaps the pain is simply that you know you have unfinished business, but perhaps, you don't know what that may be," Lily suggested. Again, the ghost shook his head. "No, that's not it, for the question is my unfinished business." Aello sighed. "Describe the pain to us then. That you feel." "It is the same as in the moment of my death. The clutching at my heart. The throbbing in my sides," explained the ghost. "Perhaps it is a sense of urgency then. An overwhelming desire to understand why this is," Aello suggested. "Perhaps. But what does that matter? I still don't understand why it hurts." "But don't you?" asked Aello. "Don't you see? You hurt because you do not know. You cannot know just what ails you. What brought you to die. What keeps you stuck now. And so you hurt, because you so desperately want answers which no one can provide you." The ghost stilled, the edges of his form still rippling. "Perhaps, young maiden," he responded, before floating away. Into the areas the fire failed to illuminate. "That would make sense enough, although it still hurts. Not to know." Aello nodded. "And perhaps, it always will, unless you let go." "Let go..." he whispered before backing away further, through a number of trees with fattened trunks. Diamond backed bark peeling away from a central stalk. "Let go..." The wind swept away his words as he faded. And was no more.

[Accolade]

Aello

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Philosophy	+ 3 XP
Rhetoric	+ 2 XP

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Lily the comedian
•	A ghost with a question

Notes :

Another good read, though that was a bit creepy. Well done!

The Sylir has spoken

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