Bitter History (Madeira)

[Jomi]

61st of Spring, 517
10th Bell

Matilda Horrens let out an exaggerated breath as she watched a mason jar, filled to overflowing with a menagerie of loose buttons and glittery beads, slide itself closer to the edge of the counter it rested on. The once fiery and tenacious force of nature who overwhelmed all her customers with her endless tittering sat slouched in a rickety stool by the front counter. Disheveled and distant, she watched as the jar tilted itself and spun on its rounded edges in a taunting dance before throwing itself from its perch. A few days ago she would have screamed and thrown herself across the small store in an attempt to save her precious treasures. But now all the exhausted woman could do was shut her eyes and brace herself as the clear piercing sound of shattered glass cut through the small storefront.

Betsy Rasoute, Matilda’s childhood friend, sat across from the proprietor. The portly brunette woman sipped her tea from a chipped ceramic bowl in the awkward silence that followed, all the cups had broken after a broomstick had ‘accidentaly’ tipped over and nocked a shelf off its wall mount the other day.

“I see it’s still here.” She injected curtly.

Matilda watched the beads and buttons scattered on the floor. Seemingly carried by an invisible breeze until every last one was hidden under the dusty counters and display cases or pushed between the floor boards.

“Hey, are you listening to me? By Ionu’s finest, woman, get a hold of yourself.”

Matilda’s eyes swept over to regard her friend with a half lidded stare before giving a little shake to clear her head.

“I’m sorry Bess.” She drawled “I haven’t slept well the past few days.”

“No shyke. ”

Matilda eyed a velvet choker from her seat with a mix of wary suspicion and disgust. It had a black velvet band, discoloured with water damage and the grim she wasn't able to brush off, and an ivory cameo of a young woman in the centre. Hair pinned up in an elegant bun with a soft smile to someone off left. She had been sold the pendant no more than five days ago, she had practically been bouncing in joy, it was a beautiful piece despite the damage and was sold to her for next to nothing! Now she understood why the owners were so eager to be rid of the piece.

The damed thing was haunted.

It started with the pendant itself. All of her treasures and trinkets had been pushed around the counter, leaving the cameo alone in a neat ring. Meticulously filed paperwork was thrown about haphazardly, pilfered from drawers and desks and thrown about. Any customers who showed interest in the pendant or even those just unlucky enough to stand too close to it would suddenly turn like drunken puppets and march right back out into the street. And any attempt from Matilda herself to remove the piece was met with the same treatment.

“I’ve sent for a spiritist. Hopefully th-“

A deep bone-chilling scream of rage tore through Matilda’s Jewels and spilled onto the street.

[Madeira Dusk]

The little silver bell above the door tinkled gaily as Madeira stepped into Matilda’s Jewels, but it was drowned out by some angry, inhuman roar that had set the very windows to rattling. There was a squeak of petrified surprise from a large woman on a wicker chair, and the ceramic bowl in her hand flirted with suicide on the ends of her fingers before she was able to catch it. Matilda herself barely seemed to react.

"Good afternoon ladies", the Spiritist announced herself in the agonizing stillness that followed. She put her leather rucksack down by the coatrack and adjusted the collar of her high white blouse before folding her hands demurely at her waist. "My name is Madeira Craven. I understand you have a problem with a haunted artifact, Miss Horrens?"

In an instant both women were on their feet with looks of profound relief.

"Oh thank Ionu! Hello Miss Craven, so pleased to meet you." Matilda tapped towards her and shook her hand with a tight grip that made Madeira very aware of the several gaudy rings she had on every finger. "By the gods, this whole situation has been such a mess. My store is in shambles, it's breaking all my most beautiful pieces, and it won't
leave!"

"And it speaks." The unintroduced friend leaned in to the skinny teenager, her large brown eyes darting around the shadowy corners of the room.

"Kind of like a person?" Madeira matched her conspiratorial whisper, but was unable to stop herself from lacing her voice with lethal amounts of sarcasm. She was willing to bet her family would not get half the jobs they did if people could only remember that ghosts were sentient and could, for the most part, be reasoned with.

Matilda did not seem to catch on to her snideness.

"Yes, and it's obsessed with this necklace." she motioned to an innocent-looking camo necklace on a high wooden counter. The thing might as well have been the eye of the hurricane. It sat resplendent on a little velvet cushion while half a meter around it every other knick-knack and bangle were cleared messily away in a scatter of broken clasps and tangled chains. "It won't let me sell it, get rid of it or even touch it! It's scaring away all my customers", she finished with long suffering whine.

"Is that so?" Madeira chewed her lip thoughtfully as she eyed the piece. The fact that it was haunting something so small and fragile was actually very good news. It obviously cared a great deal for the piece. And if she was going to negotiate with this spirit then there was nothing better than playing the game when she had all the chips.

Ignoring Matilda and her friend's squawk of warning, Madeira lifted the necklace carefully from it's cushion and fastened it around her own throat.

[Jomi]

Shykeshykeshykeshyke.

Jomi unmaterialized, shapeless form raced around Matilda’s Jewels in a panic as Matilda and Betsy recovered from his sudden outburst, soulmist swirling chaotically in his wake. He had never encountered a spiritualist before, he had never stuck around in one place long enough to warrant the intervention of one. But he knew the reputation they had, and he knew he couldn’t scare one off by throwing teacups around like he could for nearly everyone else. He didn’t want to engage with a spiritualist if he didn’t have to. But this necklace was his only lead in finding his bonded and was not going to leave until he got the answers he was looking for.

The gentle chime of bells cut through the deafening silence. Jomi came to an abrupt stop, turned towards the entrance and came face to face with the spiritualist sent by Matilda to deal with him. What struck him first was how young she looked. Nothing like the creepy old crone dressed in black and raven feathers the spiritualist reputation had suggested. She looked like a proper young noble with the way she held herself, with the thin lanky body, pale skin and reddened eyes of an anemic sleepwalker. He watched her closely as she greeted the proprietor and introduced herself, and tensed as she swept over to the counter with the meticulously placed necklace. His necklace.

Don’t do it.

She reached down and palmed the piece in her delicate china-doll hands.

Don’t you petching dare.

And placed it against her throat and fastened the worn silver clasp.

Jomi blinked across the room and appeared directly behind her.

Jomi, still new to the afterlife, lacked any grace or finesse in his possessions. Instead relying on the hosts shock and trauma as leverage to crowd out there souls from their bodies. He tackled her from behind, entering her body from the centre of her back and spread outward into her limbs, absorbing his soulmist into her muscle fibres and wrapping himself in her skin. He felt his essence expand and mold itself to fit its new container like liquid in a vase. His vision blurred as he filled and adjusted to her eyes. He allowed himself a brief chime to adjust to his new host's stature before lifting her hand to tear the choker from her neck.

[Madeira Dusk]

A tick after placing the necklace at her throat, Madeira's breath
hitched in her chest. Her shoulders, usually so stiff and straight,
curled back and strained at the buttons of her blouse. Matilda and
Betsy watched with wordless bafflement as the Spiritist seemed to
suffer some sort of seizer. She recovered after a tick, then reached
for her throat. It was then that the girl they hired for spiritual
pest control just... stopped.

Matilda and Betsy exchanged a glance. Madeira's hand was suspended
centimetres from the necklace, her eyes open and unblinking, and her
body stiff. The proprietor stepped forward and took the girl gently by
the shoulder.

"Miss Craven, are you quite alright?"

Incapable of counterbalancing herself, the gentle shake nearly tipped
the ridged girl over.

Inside her body, her soul and the ghost's were having a silent battle
of wills. She could feel him spreading through her bones, levering her
soul out with a ferocity she was wholly unprepared for. And it was
indeed a 'him'. In the brief moment before she fought back she was
able to dip into a shallow pool of memories. The colour of his
thoughts were male, the taste was hard and angry, and something a
little less than human. The smell of warm fur flooded her senses.

But she couldn't let him go farther. This was going to be her version
of a power play. She had his necklace, she would not let it go, and he
could not knock her around like everyone else.

Unable to push him out, Madeira shut her body down and threw up mental
barriers, and the two entered a siege. By locking herself away in her
own body, the unexperienced ghost would be unable to take it from her.
She then waited for him to give up or exhaust himself. In a couple
chimes she felt his grip loosen, and with a force of will she expelled
him completely. With a start she came gasping back to reality,
gripping the counter for support. There was a squeak of surprise from
her audience.

"Excuse me, ladies.", Madeira wiped sweat from the back of her neck
and smiled for the two shocked women. "I'm going to take this outside.
I'll be back once I've made some progress." She nodded her head
respectfully before turning on her heel and exiting the shop with a
tinkle of the cheery little bell. From inside her blouse she produced
a key on a long chain. By it's direction she would find her house, so
she and her new tag-along could talk in private, without the potential
ballistics of other peoples property scattered about. And he would
follow her. He had to. She had his precious necklace, after all.

OOCJomi doesn't have the juice to take her over, sorry!

Also, I hope this format docent make your eyes bleed. I'm working on fixing it! Comp is on the fritz

[Jomi]

The thin pale hand hovered suspended in front of Madeira’s throat for a long chime.

He couldn’t move. It took Jomi a tick to realize why this body wasn’t responding how it should. He could feel Madeira in there with him but her presence was quiet and inward facing, far from the panicked scrambling he was use too from his hosts. It was as if she had her entire body on lockdown, trapping them both inside a stiff, immovable body while maintaining the cool calmness of a monk on morphine. This wasn't a fair fight, it wasn't even close, and deep inside his mind He knew he wasn’t going to win. Jomi slowly peeled himself off her muscles and bones, gathered in her lungs and let his soulmist ride Madeira deep exhale out of her body. He hovered as a formless haze over the counter Madeira had been standing in front of to collect himself as she conversed with the proprietor. The metal lockets and hand mirrors dimmed slightly as the light shining through the large display windows struggled to cut through his incorporeal form. The dead were decidedly limited in what they could do in the living world so confronting the spiritualist directly wouldn't work, she could withstand his possessions and he couldn't throw anything heavier than place settings.

As Jomi struggled to come up with another plan, Madeira issued her parting words and calmly strode out the door. Jomi’s soulmist shivered indignantly. She was leading him away using his necklace as bait, and she was wholly confidant he would follow her like a lost puppy.

…Puppy.

Puppy!

Jomi shot out of the shops front window like a greased up cannon ball. It only took a handful of ticks to find his new target. A tawny Alvika deerstalker lounged under a produce cart across from Matildas Jewels as her master hawked his wares, a wide splitting yawn showing her gleaming canines. Jomi charged as a barely visible blur and tackled the dog who yelped and twisted in on herself when he touched her soul.

Jomi rose on shaking legs and snarled with a full mouth of predators teeth as he stumbled towards the spiritualist like a haggard drunk. The former Kelvic badger was very comfortable on four legs but the deerstalkers long limbs took adjustment. His strides gradually lengthened as he made to overtake the spiritualist and herd her back to the shop.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira was only a few steps away from the shop when a racket erupted from a vegetable cart on the other side of the street. The vender was on his feet, shouting at the dog under his cart to sit, girl and Nabia, stay. Madeira paused, the cameo on it’s velvet ribbon bumping against the hollow of her throat, and saw the dog. A squat, square thing with a tan hide, pink nose and a wide, floppy mouth. A mouth that was pulled back to reveal its dripping teeth. It was climbing to it's feet in a stiff, drunken way. A way Madeira recognized. She also recognized its eyes, and the way they rolled madly in it’s head before settling with bloodshot, unblinking focus. She recognized it because she had experienced it too.

The dog was possessed.

"Oh shyke."

Madeira lost her cool propriety with that one squeak of sound. Turning suddenly from the professional to a scared little girl as she turned tail and ran.

She didn't know how long it would take for the ghost to acclimatize to the dog’s body. At most she had several precious ticks before she would be forced to run with several pieces missing from her legs. But even as severely out of shape as she was, the Craven discovered a new ferocious energy in her skinny legs fuelled by the hammering of her overtaxed heat. She pushed past people in a frenzy looking for something, anything, that could save her.

Suddenly the street opened in front of her. A yawning pit four meters wide sat in the middle of the busy cobble road as a casual threat to the unwary Avalad. Madeira's arms pinwheeled franticly as she stopped herself from running headlong into the open earth. What was in the pit? She didn't have time to check. She imagined she could feel the dogs hot breath on her thighs.

Your'e a Spiritist. she screamed at herself as she searched desperately for a way around. And the secret of Spiritism is that the whole practise is ninety percent bribery and threats. Bullshyke your way out of this.

She shoved her fingers underneath the velvet choker and pulled. The clasp dug into her skin painfully before snapping around the back of her neck. Then she held her arm out straight over the void, letting the necklace swing by it's tattered ribbon in her clenched fist, as she turned to face the rushing dog.

"I'll do it. I swear to gods I'll do it." she tried to snarl, but through the cracking of her voice a cornered, animal kind of panic was showing through.

Strands of hair had shaken loose from her neat bun, and her pale face was flushed and gasping. The Craven was not made for any kind of physical exertion. And if the dog choose to push her into the pit or drag her away she would not be capable of physically stopping it. But she had it's necklace. It's important little trinket. And she had to hope that would be enough to stop him.

OOCI give you full permission to bite/maim Maddy if you so wish. I'm aware I kind of left myself open to it. You can even headbutt her into oblivion as long as whatever's in the pit doesn’t kill her.

[Jomi]

Jomi furiously back-pedalled as madeira came to the edge of the pit and threw her hand over with his necklace clutched in her fist. She spat her words at him like a general but there were cracks in her voice; she was more scared than she let on. The ghost and the spiritualist stared each other down for a few intense ticks as confused Alvads scuttled past, hoping to avoid whatever lunacy was going on there. Jomi racked his brain for a way out, some way to take back what was his and escape. But the truth was he was tired, two possessions in less than a chime had worn him out and he knew he didn’t have the stamina to keep chasing her. But if he gave up the dogs body and faced her as himself he would be giving her all the power. The fear of being mauled was the only thing he had over her, once that was gone he’d have no choice but to go along with whatever she wanted, if he ever wanted to see his necklace again.

Nothing for it then.

Summoning all the strength he had left Jomi coiled the dogs legs under her haunches and launched her at the hand clutching the worn velvet ribbon.

But Jomi, still unaccustomed to the dogs body misjudged his trajectory and collided with Madeira’s torso in mid air with a fleshy thud leaving the jaws to snap at the empty air above her shoulder.

For a moment, human, ghost and dog were all falling into an all consuming black. The sounds and smells of the city of insanity dimmed as the mouth of the hole raced away from them only to be suddenly and abruptly cut. Even the air that was a tick ago roaring in Jomi’s borrowed ears stilled and were soon replaced by a roaring of a different sort ticks before they were all hit by a wall of water. Nabia's mind kicked into survival mode as the water filled her nose and open mouth, ejecting the exhausted ghost out by force of will and making her break for a soft light that shone into the murky depths. The dog broke through the surface with a wet, hacking retch as she worked to expel the water from her lungs while Jomi trailed along behind. He squinted out of habit at the midday sun that shone bright and clear, illuminating the riding arena in the Unstable Stables and the horse trough the trio had just fallen out of. Several horses nearby screamed and ran off with tails high as the strangers emerged from their feeding area. The Deerstalker launched herself from the shallow wooden container, tipping it and sending the trio sprawling in the loose hay as she tucked her tail between her legs and gave a frightened, painful howl before running away on shaking legs.

Jomi tried his best to pull his soulmist closer to his core, curling in the wispy tendrils to make his body more solid but he barely had the energy to be seen, no more than a dim outline was visible. But Madeira would know he was there from the cold prickling that covered the left side of her body where Jomi was wrapped around her, as if he were trying to hold her down.

"Give it back. It's all I have left, don't take it from me!"

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira exploded out of the half-meter trough in a froth of foamy water and a gasp. The thing tipped over almost immediately, expelling the human face-down into the wash of mud as several horses gave snorts of panic and fled. Her pack seemed to land directly on her lungs as she tried to suck air into her waterlogged body, and her sodden dress had wrapped her legs in a strangle hold. Everything hurt. Madeira lifted herself to her hands and knees just in time to see the dog, now wholly herself, flee with it's tail between it's legs.

Suddenly a cool prickling, like a blanket made of shards of ice, covered her left side. There was a quick, hot spike of panic in the Spiritist as she felt the familiar contact. But it was gone as quickly as it came. There was a desperation in his touch now, and a sharp electric pain as he tried to materialize around her. But he was to weak. And with the dog long gone, he had nothing left to threaten her with. The ghost spoke to her for the first time then, and begged for it's trinket.

The necklace!

Madeira brushed her hands through the mud, and surfaced with the stained cameo on it's choked velvet ribbon. The thing looked worse for wear, but it had miraculously survived. She held it in her closed fist as she pushed herself to her feet. A realization came to her then, with the sharp edges of the necklace pressing into her palm. An idea that wove tendrils through her mind like ink in a glass of water. Her dull blue eyes lit up, and she dropped her backpack to her feet.

"Ok." she said, wiping at the mud on her cheek with an equally muddy hand. "Ok, you can have it back. But first."

From the depths of her rucksack she pulled out a jar of soulmist. The opalescent substances curled languidly at the bottom of the container, and seemed to react to the ghosts presence as she held it out to him. But without her permission, he could not take it. So it sat there, mocking him.

"I can be helpful to you", she began. "If you can be useful to me."

She wanted him, and it showed in her hungry eyes as they found the edges of his fading form. He was weaker than most, she knew by his possession and how quickly he tired. But to have him. To have a ghost servant. Even if she could hardly handle the angry creature, it was too much to pass up. Everyone in her family had ghost servants; they lived in the Manor, trading soulmist for favours. Madeira herself was always too weak to be of much interest to the various ghosts when there were more powerful Spiritist's around. But this was her opportunity to change that.

"You can't take care of the necklace on your own, even if I were to leave it behind right now. You'd be forced to chase it around forever. But I can take care of it, and I can take care of you, if-" she held up a finger, as if to poke the words out of the air "if you work for me."

She didn't look like much of a Master in that moment, with her dress sticking to her skinny legs, her hair undone and half her body streaked in mud. But her eyes were alight and determined, and her mouth was the sharp curve of a scimitar.

“If you need a body, I have one that’s been trained in possession since I was small. If you need soulmist, I can make that for you. If you need protection from other Spiritists, tell them you are mine and they will leave you alone.”

[Jomi]

Jomi watched as Madeira gathered herself and stood to her full hight with the last treasured piece he had left of his bondmate clutched in her fist. For the first time since his death he felt truly weak and helpless.

His eyes briefly lit up with hope when she offered to give his property back to him, only to narrow suspiciously when she continued to lay out her terms.

"If you can be useful to me'

He watched her as she pull a jar of heavy white mist from her bag and held it out to him. And for a moment he could have sworn he could smell its contents. It curled languishingly up the side of the jar closest to him as if reaching out, calling him closer. But his invisible form reflexively coiled away from the jar and her words.

When Jomi died his bonding instinct died with him, but some traitorous part of him still craved that leadership and company. He wanted some sort of connection to someone, to feel wanted and useful again. But to become a servant to someone other than his bonded felt almost sacrilegious.

But the bitch was right, he couldn't take care of the necklace by himself. And she had already proved how weak he was, so how would he be able to find Edith on his own? He needed a partner, and the skinny waif was the only one offering any sort of support.

Jomi barded his teeth, and hissed out one final word dripping in venom.

“Okay.”

[Madeira Dusk]

"Okay."

Even given reluctantly, pulled through the teeth of a snarling mouth, it sounded like victory. The triumph ran hot and fast through the Spiritist's blood. He belonged to her now. Not in an unbreakable way, or even in a safe way, but as something built on threats and bribery. He was more than she could handle, and less than she needed, but he was [i]hers[/].

With a twist she had the jar open, and with a flick of her wrist the soulmist inside scattered over the fading ghost. The locket went safely into her pocket.

"What the hai are you doing here?"

Madeira flinched and turned to see a tall, confused looking Dykras behind her. He was looking at the overturned trough and scattered mud and hay with his eyebrows slowly traveling into incredulity. The soaked Spiritist pulled self consciously at her clothing.

"Oh, I apologize. We dropped into a pit and fell out of your trough."

The man sighed, but accepted the explanation without comment.

"Well, you better get going. You're spooking the horses."

She nodded and motioned to Jomi to follow her. "Come on." she smiled, her blood still singing. "I'm taking you home."