The Living, The Dead and The Undecided (Duskshroud pls)

[Malia]

Timestamp: late evening, 5th day of Fall, 209 AV

Rumors quickly made their way through Syliras, was applied to the heart of people and locations by sailors and storytellers, mostly remained at taverns, but also inhabited the streets. Nothing remained unheard by someone who was listening intensively and frequently.

Not that Malia usually paid much attention to what people were rambling about, but this particular tale caught her interest. It was about a ghost. A true, dead, restless, transparent ghost roaming the Syliran harbor. And while Malia didn't have much of an interaction with humans or other living beings, ghosts surely were something completely different. Firstly, because they didn't possess any physical body to judge for quality. Secondly, because they were, of course, dead. As dead as people with a working mind could actually be. Even more dead than the Nuit themselves. That thought delighted her and so she decided one day that she had to seek that ghost and talk to them.

Of course she had been to the harbor before, had walked around the pier and watched ships coming and going along with the waves of the mighty sea. Nature was something that intimidated her a bit – it couldn't be calculated like other people's minds, and if it ever hurt her, she would be left with nobody to blame and nothing to do. Nature happened accidentally, but was also highly beautiful. Those two traits were the main reason why people could find it exciting, Malia believed.

Nevertheless she approached the harbor in late evening, having heard that ghosts liked to roam at night rather than in the daylight, and slowly walked along one street after another. At this time she wasn't paying attention to her steps, making them randomly, because she had no clue where the creature would manifest first. Her grey cloak was wrapped tightly around her thin figure, and everything else that was visible was her pitch-black hair. A rather strong breeze was blowing against roofs and walls, and Malia had trouble removing her hair from her face so she could actually see something.

She hoped that her sight would be good enough to recognize a transparent human-like silhouette, though.

[Duskshroud]

It was another night - and piecing together the fragments that he knew of who he was had already been taxing on Duskshroud's patience. He still - inwardly perhaps - called himself Duskshroud - knowing this was not his name - but similarly he knew it mattered little.

He was long overdue to find out why he was here.

As a frustrating fury took its brief hold on him and he kicked another box off of the pier. The stacked boxes and barrels ruined his view of the water - after all.

Manifesting himself behind the box and sending it flying into the water was a lot easier now. He was blue, almost green in color, a mist swirling about his feet. He could hear echoes of the tide - if they emanated from him, it wasn't of his doing - only happenstance to his condition. He was neither tall nor short, somewhat stocky in build - this misted shadow of a man. His scimitar hung dolefully at his side, but it, again, was nothing more then a reflection.

The water was all that he knew anymore. It was peace. A infinite ocean - a single wave. He stared longingly out across the rippled tides - he listened.

But this moment was quickly spoiled. He was being watched.

He found the woman, turning to face her. Speaking was challenging for him, that is, speaking in any manner that the living would comprehend. But she was different then the comers-and-goers of the docks.

She was dark to their light forms. He still saw the faint shroud of her own spirit - but her body was - unusual. He approached - curious and drawn. He sought and was quiet in contemplation of this unknown before him.

Stirring his voice with a rapt concentration, he nodded courteously, as he would any passenger, and spoke slowly. "Hello, madam." Finishing this, he bowed.

[Malia]

The closer she got to the docks, the stronger blew the wind and smashed her hair against her face. Perhaps she should really look for a body with shorter hair, just out of mere practicality …

Suddenly she stopped. At the docks, right in front of the dark, infinite ocean, a figure was standing. Hastily removing her hair, Malia remained where she was to watch the creature in safe distance. After all, she didn’t know who or what this was, if it was friendly or dangerous, and she needed to protect her ichor, the most important part of her body. The only part that really belonged to her, although she did her best to hide that fact.

The creature looked somewhat transparent, but not fully so, and appeared of a blue or green shade, or perhaps it just reflected the dark water? Mist was curling around it’s feet, which was unusual. She also discovered that it was a man of average size who was staring at the ocean.

Then he kicked a box into the water, creating a loud splashing noise that rang in Malia’s ears, and turned around. Her heart stopped. Her heart …?

The coin had turned and he was watching her. Carefully. She licked her lips, recognizing that she hadn’t been that nervous for ages. Standing in front of a dead person, someone she would never be able to join, was … fascinating. Her fingers almost trembled with excitement. Then he spoke, and Malia noticed how hard that was for him, forming words she could understand. That was a surprise, everyone just assumed that every being which could be seen could also be heard. So this wasn’t the case with ghosts. They certainly felt disappointed all the time, existing in a world they no longer belonged to. She wondered where that place would be where he could speak freely.

It seemed a bit useless that he greeted her when speaking was that difficult for him, but she returned the greeting politely and gave a stiff nod. The big question was: What should she talk about with a ghost? Death? Salvation? Had he seen the gods, or some of them on his way to … transparent-ness? She would have asked a thousand questions, if she hadn’t been aware of the value of time. Perhaps their time was limited. She knew nothing about him.

With a sudden determination she wrapped the cloak more tightly around her thin body and opened her mouth with the black tongue to speak. Words were pouring much more easier than they had for the ghost. “What is it like, to be a ghost? What have you seen on your journey?”

It was only a small moment of hesitation in which Malia considered whether she should tell him or not. She had made up her mind before, after all. “You see, I am a Nuit. As one of my kind I’m interested in what your existence is like.”

Existence … but her life was nothing more than an existence too, wasn’t it? For the first time she wondered whether there were other significant differences between their two forms of existence, apart from being dead and undead (whatever undead meant in her case).

[Duskshroud]

The woman's mouth moved quickly, and Duskshroud heard little of what she said, instead watching her movements and the aura she possessed move with her. He was still somewhat unfamiliar with this life, and nuances - unusual one and all - fascinated him.

Your journey? A perplexing question.

"I do not journey - I seek." Collecting himself, Duskshroud focused more intently on speaking out his message to the woman. "I do not know what it is that I need - I need to know." His voice slowly climbed in volume and speed. "I do not know why I am here - why I have things, what these things are."

In a blink of eye he had turned and was pointing off toward a barrel at the farthest end of the dock, half buried in old netting and refuse. He grew only slightly, his form darkening considerably - malignantly.

They are special - they are meaningless. I am confused I am angry I am ... I am dead Iam... here.IdonotknowwhatitisthatImustdotoendthis... torment. IwanttoendthisIwanttostartoverIwanttoliveIwantto... die.

The furious and near-incomprehensible tirade ended quickly, his form trembling - echoing the building madness within him.

Duskshroud's shoulders shrugged in a mimiced exhaustion, "I ... I am sorry. I have not been... this way very long. I am very confused - frustrated. It is a maddening state. Very much so."

He seemed to shrink a little with this admission, and bowed his head down silently. He had returned to his simple translucent state and stood, as though awaiting judgment.

[Malia]

Malia didn’t move while waiting for the creature’s reply and listening to his words. To an outsider her body might indeed seem lively, although an important part of that life was clearly missing. The shell her mind was residing in clearly lacked something – perhaps because of the fact that she needed to neither breathe nor eat, sleep or drink. A Nuit, one of the undead that roamed the world searching for sense and direction, that was what Malia was.

His first words irritated, but intrigued her at the same time. So what did he seek? Trembling with agitation she listened carefully. Apparently he wasn’t accustomed to the speaking process. Not yet, or not any more.

Then she froze. Confusing thoughts came out of his semi-transparent mouth, his strangely blurred silhouette. So suddenly … Therefore her assumptions had been wrong? All wrong?
Malia refused to believe. With the anticipation for knowledge, perhaps even for an answer, she had come here, had found the right person. And then that person didn’t know the answer himself? Anyway, she told herself to calm down. Don’t lose control. Don’t be too disappointed.

And then she realized that he was trapped in a similar situation than her. As a Nuit she didn’t possess any knowledge about her existence, didn’t know anything about why she was living that way, how she was going to survive for the next thousand years … Trapped in time. Like Glav Navik had suggested, she was the great experiment of Tanroa, the respectable goddess of time.

When looking at the ghost, she realized that he had to feel the same. Trapped in time. Trapped in his own past. Yes, she knew exactly how he felt.

Two, three steps she took before stopping again. Better be careful, you don’t know how far madness has spread inside his mind. But she couldn’t deny that feeling of being connected with him. Still Malia didn’t smile, but rather removed strands of hair from her face, tried to look him in the eyes with her pitch-black ones. “You are not alone”, she spoke softly. “Do you know what a Nuit is? We exist out of time: Our minds do not age, we don’t need to breathe, eat, drink or sleep. We are body thieves. We are lost children created as an experiment. How can your existence be more painful, more confusing than mine?” It was true. She was revealing her whole worldview, her hidden beliefs, just because she wanted him to feel better. Out of pity. And she wouldn’t care if she regretted it later.

“Tell me, tell me anything!”