Solo A Discussion of Purpose

[Keene Ward]

The fifty-fourth day of summer, 515 AV

Night had fallen, its darkness cloaking Keene's rocky camp in a heady blanket of humid warmth and quiet, broken only by the occasional scurrying clack of pebbles being knocked aside as eight legged foragers shifted somewhere in the distance. Though the complete darkness of the Ravine had been strange at first, as time had passed within the somber walls of the cavern's basin, Keene had found the night to carry with it peaceful breezes and a time for more than the fitful toss and turn of sleep. He had taken to speaking to the breezes as a coping mechanism for the swell of pain that would rise in his chest if he lingered on a thought for too long, something that had proven soothing in that once it had left his lips to drift in the open air, his petty concerns were given even more pathetic a form that they were much more simply dismissed. It wasn't that Keene didn't believe that Zulrav could hear him; rather, it was more that he spoke for the sake of speaking, his subconscious preferring it be to the wind and air rather than the true idea of nothingness that his more rational thoughts supported it as.

Many things weighed upon him, and Keene's voice was slow, steady, and soft, letting the words drift from him as easily as they slipped into his mind in thought. He spoke often of Boswell, of Mella, of the concepts of life and death, but lately he had found his mind preoccupied with Wilhelmina. It wasn't concern. That was something that Keene had no word for nor any desire to entertain. The winds did not need to understand him to listen, and Keene did not need to explain himself to speak, thus the meditative relationship was beneficial in that it provided just one more avenue through which Keene might better consolidate his thoughts. That night, beneath the occluded sky in the all encompassing darkness, Keene sat with back straight and legs tucked beneath him, staring blankly ahead of him as his lips moved in a soft, contemplative whisper.

"Is it acceptable to leave her as she is?" A slight breath of air had taken up claim through the sizable chinks in his stony tent, not quite enough to draw the telltale whistle of its movement, but it was hinted in its passing as it gently tugged away at Keene's thoughts. "She is a threat in her current state. I should destroy her." Without thinking, Keene's eyes instinctively moved to stare blindly into the darkness before him where he knew Wilhelmina's doll lay atop the majority of his supplies. "I should have destroyed the Nuit master." The breeze settled into an even more lugubrious pace, little more than peace and contentment drifting through its being, playing at the cool mark that adorned his back, exposed as it was to the elements it represented. "I don't know what to do with a ghost... with a child." He let out a sigh, shoulders drooping some as the breath was released before he straightened back, shaking his head. "I cannot keep her as things are." There was a slight ruffle in the air around him, the wind picking up just slightly with a bit more enthusiasm than before.

He rose, pushing himself up off of the ground, moving slowly as his legs once more found their place beneath the greater weigh of his body. "Wilhelmina. We need to speak."

[Keene Ward]

There was no response, not that Keene had expected there would be. In the silence, he took a few steps forward, the small area of his campsite well known to him even in the inky darkness. When he felt as though he was close enough, he reached out a hand, blindly searching until his fingers brushed against stone. With a soft exhale of air mixed with specks of res, Keene lit a small tendril of fire, curling the pale blue light out in front of him in a thin thread. Able to see his surroundings once more, Keene gently lifted the straw doll from its place within the rock tent of his supplies as the fire faded. He could feel the telltale chill that signified the spirit still resided within the well worn straw of the doll's figure, and as the night once more rose to claim his sight, Keene stared down at where he knew his hands to be. "Wilhelmina-"

The child's voice rang out loud and clear, breaking the quiet and sending the soft scurries of the spiders into a startled scuttling as she shouted her response. "No! I don't want to!"

Keene blinked down at the doll, more so out of surprise than anything else, though in the darkness, his gesture was purely reflexive. "I did not ask if you wanted to."

The doll shivered in response, Wilhelmina's frustration nearly palpable. "Just leave me alone!"

"I will leave you alone after you have a conversation with me."

Though she didn't reply immediately, it was apparent that she had not expected Keene's straightforward negotiation. When she did finally speak, her voice was much more reserved. "...Promise?"

The young man shook his head, his voice as soft as it was unemotional. "I have already proven my promises to be worth little, but I will try."

Ticks turned to chimes and chimes dragged out in the stillness as Wilhelmina ruminated over what Keene had said. Finally, just as Keene was prepairing to speak once more, the child drifted out from within the doll, the edges of her being flickering slightly and mist shifting uneasily as she stared at him with dark, guarded eyes. "Fine. Speak."

The glow of Wilhelmina's soul mist partially illuminated the immediate area around her, casting an eerie glow over Keene's passive features as he nodded. "Why do you want revenge?"

Wilhelmina stared back at him, confusion evident in both expression and her apparent lack of words to reply with. "Why?"

"That is what I asked."

She frowned, bothered by the question first then bothered by her lack of an answer. "Because... He did things to me. Bad things. And things to that man!" Her eyes searched Keene's face, prying for a hint that she had answered the question correctly.

Though he gave no indication as to whether he found her answer appropriate or not, Keene's voice fell into a more thoughtful whisper. "I see." Speaking up with a more audible tone, he continued his line of questioning. "And how would you get your revenge, if you could?"

Wilhelmina's frown deepened. "I'd kill him like you killed me."

Keene nodded, taking the information as wordlessly as he might have someone telling him the sky was blue or water was wet. "And would you be content after killing him?"

"Con... tent?"

"Would you be happy?" Though it was a crude synonym, Keene's previous experiences with the ghost prompted him more towards simplicity over abstract accuracy.

Wilhelmina's frown knit her brows as she thought about the question. The struggle of Keene's postulated outcome of what might happen should she attain her revenge was evident in the swirling storm of the mist that composed her ethereal body, tiny fists clenched in frustration as she considered what killing the nuit might truly bring her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, turmoil still boiling within her as her stare settled somewhere near Keene's feet. "...No."

Keene nodded again, impassive as before. "If it would not bring you contentment, why would you kill him?"

"B-because!" She stared up with indignant frustration at her tormentor, but as she was only met with the grey-green placidity of the young Warden, she slowly let her eyes drift back to the ground that was a few inches below her feet, lips forming a discouraged pout. "Because... I hate him..."

"Is killing the only way to deal with people you hate?"

"I... don't know." She shook her head, hair drifting on a wind all its own as she considered. "Doesn't he deserve it?" Hopeful eyes were raised to meet Keene's impassive stare. "He's bad, right? Bad guys deserve to get killed."

The most Keene offered her was a non-committal shrug. "Is that what you believe, Wilhelmina?"

"I don't..." The child let out a frustrated huff, throwing her hands up into the air. "I don't know!"

Slowly, Keene settled down, sitting with his back against the stone behind him as he stared at his sole companion. "Take your time."

[Keene Ward]

The winds had settled into a steady, subtle breeze, bringing with them scents of the Prairie beyond. The weather had been sporadic, but there had been a stretch of hot days enough to fill the humid air with the taste of dirt and soot, both of with settle on Keene's tongue as he watched the ghostly child squat down across from him, little fingers poking at the doll before her in contemplation. She had yet to retreat from him, and though chimes had passed since she had last said something, thought swirled within her. He remained silent, the entire point of the interaction to gauge whether the ghost could be considered relatively harmless or if he needed to take further precautions against her. From what he could tell, however, she was merely an irrational child fixated on a singular process of thought. Logic and reason were far superior to emotion when it came to things such as the petty ideology of revenge. He wanted to kill the master, but the more time passed, the more he had come to understand that killing the nuit would do little but cause more problems for him. Without even carrying out the execution as it should have been, he had ended up in a mess far greater than he could have ever foreseen. He wanted Wilhelmina to come to a conclusion similar, or to at least see the error of her own emotions. If she doubted herself, it was unlikely she should have time to consider him an enemy.

"Don't you want revenge?" There was a pout in her voice that was paired with accusation. She didn't raise her eyes to look at him, but the feeling of one betrayed permeated her words as she pulled at the doll with impotent fingers.

"I don't see the benefit of revenge." He kept his voice calm and tone cool. There was no point in allowing himself to succumb to the petty desires of his irrationality. He had done so several times before, and it had given him nothing but trouble. While there was something to be said for preventative measures, it was unwise to allow oneself the lack of foresight emotionally charged decisions often demanded.

The ghost mumbled into her knees, retreating back into her pensive reticence. Once more, the chimes stretched themselves between them, marked by the shifting skitters of the spiders in the distance, slight clicks of rocks displaced and legs tap-tapping against stone creating a pseudo-metronome to serve as the backdrop to the pair's collective silence. Keene kept his eyes on her, interest only shown in that his gaze did not wander. He did not understand the child, nor did he understand the greater abstract of the ghost she was. She was, essentially, a mystery that he wasn't sure he could solve - or even that he should solve. There were too many variables and unknowns, but one thing was certain: she could be reasoned with, even if it didn't lead to the logical outcome. That, in and of itself, had given him validation enough that it was worth spending time speaking with her.

"I wanna be happy. I miss mommy." Her voice had become small and lost, wavering just slightly.

"What is happiness to you, Wilhelmina?"

She let out a frustrated sigh, eyes raised with defiance that only loosely contained her misery. "I don't know." Wilhelmina waited for a reply, searching Keene's face for any indication that she'd caused him even a smidgen of the frustration he'd brought her, but after a time of his impassive riposte, she let out a tired sigh. "When I'm happy, I'm not scared. I feel safe." She shook her head, sniffling back a tear or two. "I hate being dead."

Keene found her statements lacking the childish frustration of before, something more honest though still rife with unnecessary emotion. "Would killing the Master change that?"

Shaking her head, the ghost replied without any hesitation. "No." There was dejection in her tone, and the child spoke down into the ground, her voice only slightly muffled by the gesture. "I'm dead and he's not, but if he was, I'd still be dead." Thin lines ran down the length of her face, tears falling unbidden. "I don't know what to do."

[Keene Ward]

Having started the conversation with nothing but questions in mind, Keene found he had no answers for the sniffling mess in front of him. He did not feel remorse or sadness as he watched her, just as she did not seek his warmth or understanding. Instead, the ghost cried in muffled sobs as the Warden watched on, the two little more than strangers in the quiet of the night. The breeze that had been passing over them was pulled and twisted by Wilhelmina's mood, a tinge of loneliness in the undercurrents that drifted between them before disappearing into the shadows. Keene let his eyes follow the wind, leaving Wilhelmina with a small modicum of privacy in the absence of his pensive stare. They remained as two islands brought close by some trick of light before she finally spoke again, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, slightly garbling her speech. "Why am I a ghost?"

The question was more than enough to bring Keene's eyes back level with the pale, shadowy circles that stared up at him with a new found, albeit puffy, resolve. Not one for rhetoric, Keene replied as steady as ever. "I don't know." It wasn't something he had stopped to consider. As far as he was aware, ghosts sometimes were and sometimes weren't. Up until Wilhelmina's death, it had never been close enough to him to warrant any further thought, and given the time at which she had presented herself, Keene had had other things to keep him preoccupied. With the question finally raised, however, there was a distant flicker in his eyes, his curiosity piqued.

Wilhelmina nodded, a gesture oddly sagacious in spite of her small stature and recently sloughed bout of self-serving sorrow. "Grandma Wanda said ghosts are made when the person killed still has stuff to do." She kept Keene's gaze, but her teeth played uncertainly with the bottom of her lip, the edges of her contour shifting beneath the push and pull of the silver mists within. "If we don't kill the bad man... What am I supposed to do?"

Lips turned down into frowns in a near mirror of the other as Keene found the conversation had led, in a nearly linear manner, back the subject of his own turmoil: purpose. He had found that purpose was necessary for life - and it seemed for unlife as well - but it was much like the wind. There was no gaining it as a possession, rather it was something experienced, something fleeting that became a pursuit of purpose rather than the true attempt at any sort of actualization of it. Wilhelmina, i seemed, had come to a partial understanding of what Keene had come to understand, but there was little he could do - or even would do, had he the ability - to assist her. She was not his charge. She was not his responsibility. He had killed her, released her from the twisted creature she had become and she had remained. The act of murder was not one he found enjoyable. In fact, if he had the choice, Keene preferred to avoid it. He'd almost slipped when it had come to the nuit reimancer, but fortune - or misfortune - had kept him from it and given him time enough to clear his head. What sat before him, then, was a troubled spirit who's hopes had been broken and little else.

Wilhelmina's frown turned towards a scowl. "Maybe I'll... I'll kill you instead!" She lunged forward, but Keene made no move to avoid the fist that hit his chest with a soft thimp before she was unable to maintain her physical form. Letting out an aggravated huff, she drifted in a small circle before doubling back into a dive towards him, the intent to possess clear in the angry glare of her eyes. Keene stared back at her, face impassive, as his djed peeled away into res, a thin layer of it rushing forward, pulling with it the air around him to create a gust of wind that knocked the small child back and away from him, tumbling harmlessly as she let out a frustrated howl. "I hate you!" Several more attempts were made, but they were done so with the futility of breeze wishing to best a storm. Eventually, once the small amount of res Keene had drawn from within himself had faded and Wilhelmina's frustrations had simmered to anguished coals, the child spoke into the ground, her pouting lips and grinding teeth lending an almost husky quality to her words. "Why won't you help me?!"

"I said I would help you." Keene's voice was a still pond in the midst of the cloudy skies that were Wilhelmina's unabashed chagrin. "What you have demanded of me is not help, it is servitude." His brow raised only slightly, the point made."I did not agree to that."

The ghost looked back at him as if he had just struck her. "You- You promised!"

Shaking his head, Keene leaned further back against the stone behind him, eyes drifting upwards to stare up into the darkness where there should have been stars, where there would have been stars back in Zeltiva. "I did no such thing. I said I would do what I could, and what you wanted, I couldn't." There was just the slightest hint of bitterness in his words, but his voice remained calm and steady. "I cannot help you if you do not know what it is you need to do, nor can I help you if you can do nothing but shed tears and shout meaningless words." His eyes drifted from their focus on the onyx canopy above them, settling with an unfaltering stoicism. "Would you help you?"

The child did not reply immediately, her eyes fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet with Keene's impassive stare. She took her time, her soulmist writhing within her like a nest of ethereal snakes, the edges of her body flickering like a candle's flame. "I..." Her finger poked at the ground, the rock passing through her impotent hand with as much ease as the lapping of the ocean's wave against a rocky shore. "No." Slowly, Wilhelmia rose, straightening out to the full height of her diminutive size, only there was a resolve in her eyes that made stature almost obsolete in regards to the nature of the creature who floated before him. Burning, dark eyes finally met his own placid grey-green, and when she spoke, though her tone wavered slightly, the gravity of her words held firm. "I'll get strong. I'll get strong enough that I won't need your help." Keene stared back at her, his face as neutral as ever. "But you're still gonna help me, because you said you would." She clenched her little hands into fists, forcing herself to continue even as her confidence began to dwindle. "You still will, right?"

He had not expected another bargain, let alone a redirection of aspiration quite so drastic, but in the face of the surprising turns their conversation had taken, Keene gave the child a solemn nod. "When you are ready to do what it is you believe must be done, I will help you then."

Wilhelmina lingered for a moment, eyes searching for anything more or less in what Keene said. He meant what he said. He always meant it. There had been times where what he had said and meant could not surpass the reality of the world around him, but in that moment, Keene partook of his own share of resolution. Perhaps, by the time Wilhelmina was ready, she would lead him down a path neither of them foresaw.

As she moved to gather up her doll, she paused, hand hovering over the well worn straw. "...You keep dolly." She stood back up, eyes firm and voice steady. "You keep her and don't forget." With that, she turned her back on him, her drifting form slowly fading into a gossamer glow of off white that was eventually swallowed up into the night. As quickly as she had rushed into his life, she was gone.

[Languish]

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