Timestamp: 40th of Spring, 516 AV.
The Solarwind Apartments. Boo had probably wandered past the fancifully named building several times before, but had never known its true purpose. He supposed he might have sooner had he not been directed to the Okomo Estates when first arriving in Lhavit. Forty days since then, he had not encountered a reason that would bring him directly here. Until now.
There was a crumpled scrap of paper in his pocket, folded and unfolded countless times that the creases were worn and frail. He could rip it straight and true, so indented now were those lines. But of more interest were the assortment of words scribbled upon it. More precisely, it was an address. Not written in the clear and concise manner of today's standards, offering a room number for example, but instead it was a little more cryptic than that; more of a general direction than a precise location. Still, Boo mused, how accountable is a ghost giving directions?
It had all come about by accident in fact, Boo having sensed the spirit's gloomy presence while taking a stroll along the path that led by the Rainbow Falls. He always associated that place with the first time he had met Kelski, sitting on her rock trying to catch a delicious fish. But further along, where the path narrowed and the forest trees either side seemed to loom in a watchful manner, his neck hairs had tingled. Long story short, he had come to find the ghost of a Lhavitian hunter by the name of Jensen. The fool had fallen foul of the local wildlife years earlier, catching a finishing blow from a particularly nasty beast that had found itself defending its young. Meanwhile, in an affectionate display of sentiment, his friends had seen fit to bury him right there in the forest. However, Jensen was not as happy with the arrangement as they might have hoped. There was the unresolved matter of a pet.
Nemo was its name. Jensen's pet dog that is, trusted and faithful companion that had died several seasons before its master. Some even theorized that the loss of the dog had been to Jensen's detriment when it came to his wilderness skills. As if the death of his beloved dog weighed upon him greatly, he began to make mistakes, getting sloppy in a domain where sloppiness was not tolerated. The rest of course was history.
In any case, Jensen had held a small ceremony for Nemo way back when, burning the mutt into a pile of ashes which he then carefully stuffed into a small ornate jar. The jar itself, Lhavitian made of course - Jensen would not have it any other way - had taken pride among the hunter's possessions. However, as was Jensen's tradition before heading out on the hunt, he gathered what he considered his most valuable items, before proceeding to stash them under the floorboards. The man had never before been robbed. But when it came to his beloved ornate jar and other trinkets, there was no sloppiness at all.
Then he died.
Boo looked up at the building staring back down at him. He went over in his head how best to knock on a stranger's door and asking permission to root around under their floorboards. If he was lucky, nobody would be home and he could be on his way. But that was stupid of course. He would only be putting off what he had already agreed to do. This was a matter of putting a ghost to rest, an endeavor he never took lightly. No, it was simple. He would have to see this through, or shame on him for ever calling himself a spiritist.
Inside the building now, Boo assumed a more alert demeanor, keeping his senses switched on for anyone that passed him by or could see him. Not that he was doing anything wrong, but for some reason he felt a little jittery, as though he had to put on a good show of trying not to look like he was up to anything strange. Eventually he came to stand before the door he believed to be marked on the scrap of paper, the final boundary between him and Nemo's ashes. Now all he had to do was cross the threshold. Well, it wouldn't be the strangest thing I've ever done, would it?
With that, he gave the door a light rap three times in quick succession. Waiting for a response, he glanced up and down the passageway, wondering just who might be waiting behind that door and what tact he might best use to get what he needed.
The Solarwind Apartments. Boo had probably wandered past the fancifully named building several times before, but had never known its true purpose. He supposed he might have sooner had he not been directed to the Okomo Estates when first arriving in Lhavit. Forty days since then, he had not encountered a reason that would bring him directly here. Until now.
There was a crumpled scrap of paper in his pocket, folded and unfolded countless times that the creases were worn and frail. He could rip it straight and true, so indented now were those lines. But of more interest were the assortment of words scribbled upon it. More precisely, it was an address. Not written in the clear and concise manner of today's standards, offering a room number for example, but instead it was a little more cryptic than that; more of a general direction than a precise location. Still, Boo mused, how accountable is a ghost giving directions?
It had all come about by accident in fact, Boo having sensed the spirit's gloomy presence while taking a stroll along the path that led by the Rainbow Falls. He always associated that place with the first time he had met Kelski, sitting on her rock trying to catch a delicious fish. But further along, where the path narrowed and the forest trees either side seemed to loom in a watchful manner, his neck hairs had tingled. Long story short, he had come to find the ghost of a Lhavitian hunter by the name of Jensen. The fool had fallen foul of the local wildlife years earlier, catching a finishing blow from a particularly nasty beast that had found itself defending its young. Meanwhile, in an affectionate display of sentiment, his friends had seen fit to bury him right there in the forest. However, Jensen was not as happy with the arrangement as they might have hoped. There was the unresolved matter of a pet.
Nemo was its name. Jensen's pet dog that is, trusted and faithful companion that had died several seasons before its master. Some even theorized that the loss of the dog had been to Jensen's detriment when it came to his wilderness skills. As if the death of his beloved dog weighed upon him greatly, he began to make mistakes, getting sloppy in a domain where sloppiness was not tolerated. The rest of course was history.
In any case, Jensen had held a small ceremony for Nemo way back when, burning the mutt into a pile of ashes which he then carefully stuffed into a small ornate jar. The jar itself, Lhavitian made of course - Jensen would not have it any other way - had taken pride among the hunter's possessions. However, as was Jensen's tradition before heading out on the hunt, he gathered what he considered his most valuable items, before proceeding to stash them under the floorboards. The man had never before been robbed. But when it came to his beloved ornate jar and other trinkets, there was no sloppiness at all.
Then he died.
Boo looked up at the building staring back down at him. He went over in his head how best to knock on a stranger's door and asking permission to root around under their floorboards. If he was lucky, nobody would be home and he could be on his way. But that was stupid of course. He would only be putting off what he had already agreed to do. This was a matter of putting a ghost to rest, an endeavor he never took lightly. No, it was simple. He would have to see this through, or shame on him for ever calling himself a spiritist.
Inside the building now, Boo assumed a more alert demeanor, keeping his senses switched on for anyone that passed him by or could see him. Not that he was doing anything wrong, but for some reason he felt a little jittery, as though he had to put on a good show of trying not to look like he was up to anything strange. Eventually he came to stand before the door he believed to be marked on the scrap of paper, the final boundary between him and Nemo's ashes. Now all he had to do was cross the threshold. Well, it wouldn't be the strangest thing I've ever done, would it?
With that, he gave the door a light rap three times in quick succession. Waiting for a response, he glanced up and down the passageway, wondering just who might be waiting behind that door and what tact he might best use to get what he needed.
