Autumn was long practiced with patience. It was her most consistent companion. Ghosts who lived driven by the cheaper emotions of hate and rage ran the risk of snuffing themselves of existence or, worse yet, going completely mad and losing all sense of self. These ghosts lived a truly sad existence. When those ghosts held on, they were no more than empty shells of what they had been. But a ghost who made patience their greatest ally and their most potent weapon could outlast everyone and everything but themselves.
Existence for Autumn had been one long wait after another interrupted here and there by shorter waits, but Candace’s parents weren’t accustomed to it. The time they had to wait for Rasika to return with Alessia wasn’t long, but by their building anxiety, Autumn could tell it felt too long for them. As soon as the Catholicon’s lead physician was through the door, Candace’s mother was by her side, pushing the child into Alessia’s arms.
Alessia had little bedside manner to speak of but was a damned fine physician, both things which the people of Lhavit seemed to know, the former of which they overlooked for the benefits of the latter. After examining Candace and finding her completely healthy, it took Alessia several chimes to get the child’s parents understand this, and only when Alessia suggested they stay the night so the child could be routinely monitored did the couple truly settle down.
Their waiting done, they settled in and kept vigil over their child, and Autumn was content to wait once, settling herself into a secluded corner. The day was wearing on, and even Lhavitians with their warped sense of time and sleep needed some sleep at night. She noticed too that stress and worry had taken its toll on the parents. It didn’t matter what their normal sleep schedule was. Right now, their lids were heavy; their postures, exhausted. It wouldn’t be long, but even in it was half a day, Autumn had time to wait. She had all the time in the world. Eventually, exhaustion, worry, and the general need of the body to sleep took hold of both parents, she crashing out on the cot, he draped over the arm of a chair, and Candace gurgling inanities at the empty ceiling above, and Autumn’s patience was rewarded with undisturbed time with the child.
If she had wanted to, Autumn could have just drifted into the child, beginning her possession unannounced, but something about Candance, something about the way she reminded Autumn of her time with Maro, made her take a different route. Drawing on the wisps of mists that coiled invisibly about her soul, Autumn willed them into form.
Most of herself she kept in minimal detail, letting the lines and curves of her body fade into the hazy whirl of mist beneath her shoulders, but her face she was certain to pay extra attention to. Babies needed certain features to recognize a face, and Autumn didn’t want to frighten the girl. Stranger were strangers though, and it was possible that despite Autumn’s best efforts the child would be scared by the appearance of someone she didn’t know.
Hesitantly, Autumn peered over the edge of the crib where the child pondered the ceiling devising observations that would never be revealed to the world and talked nonsense to it in childish high hopes that her utterings could change her world. It took her several ticks to realize Autumn’s arrival, and when she did, her gurglings subsided into silence as her green eyes got big.
Unsure if that was a sign that Candace was about to cry, Autumn hushed the child, smiling brightly and whispering so she wouldn’t wake her new friend’s parents. “Hi, Candace. You don’t know me yet, but we’re gonna be good friends.”
Candace’s wide eyes crinkled, and a smile burst across her face as she voices what could only be taken as a question.
Autumn nodded. “Mm-hm. Maybe even best friends, if you’re lucky.”
Autumn doubted that, but it sounded like a nice thing to say. This child was a means to an end, but that end was a long way away. If Autumn had the child’s cooperation, it would make her practice more potent, her training that much more effective. When she was ready, she could move on to unwilling hosts, but that wouldn’t be any time soon. Still, she had to begin somewhere. Before she ran the race, she had to learn how to walk. Baby steps.
Autumn was patient. She could weather anything until she had the strength to face it. Whatever insignificant obstacle lay before her, she could surmount it, but some obstacles were not insignificant. Madeira was one of those, perhaps. Autumn couldn’t be sure if the spiritist was an obstacle, if she opposed Autumn at all. More than likely, the woman only saw Autumn as a minor hindrance, if she even took the time to concern herself with Autumn whatsoever. She wasn’t the only obstacle thought. There was the Red Lantern’s mistress, Madame Belladonna. She hadn’t been pleased when she had learned of Autumn’s presence and checked in often to Gweneveh’s room to assure herself the ghost was gone.
Gweneveh was perhaps the only ally Autumn had. Her and maybe the baby lying in front of her. Summoning enough mist into her arm to make it recognizable as such, Autumn reached down into the crib but stopped with her hand hovering just over the child’s head. A deep green, Candace’s eyes stared at the hand and its many details, much more intricate than the ceiling above them both. There was a pause when neither moved and neither spoke, but Autumn was patient. Candace broke and giggled another inane chortle, then reached for Autumn’s materialized hand.
Pulling her hand out of Candace’s reach, Autumn shook her head. “You are curious.”
When the child’s hands dropped down, Autumn reached down again and pulled the mist back into the materialized core of her arm. In this way, when her hand brushed Candace’s cheek, there wasn’t the unpleasant tingle that a materialization as potent as hers could bring. Instead, there would just be an icy chill, a familiar cold that somehow warmed the heart. It was in this same way Autumn had left kisses on Maro’s cheek most days before he went out to work.
Many people were put off by such a touch, recoiled from the cold, but Candace was special. Or crazy. Or broken. Maybe just a baby. Autumn couldn’t decide which. At Autumn’s touch, Candace winced, the screwed her face up tight as if she were about to scream, then smiled, then yawned, then back again until she herself was so confused she forgot what it was she doing or what was being done to her and how she felt about it. Her baby eyes went somewhere else for a moment, then came back to the present and a smile came to her face. She giggled once more.
As slowly as she could manage, Autumn gathered her mist and flooded it from the rest of her down through her arm, where it pooled in her hand and trickled slowly out into the child. Entry, Autumn had found, was one of the most difficult parts of possession. Too bold, too brash, and the host would reject the ghost immediately. There had to be a certain amount of subtlety. Most ghost, except those well-practiced in the form, couldn’t win in an outright confrontation, a battle of the wills. The souls that inhabited bodes were comfortable in them, more familiar in them that any invaders would be.
Mist traveled into Candace, strand by strand, so slowly she knew nothing of it. This way of entering another was in equal ways intimate and conniving. Despite it sense of dishonest secrecy, the ghost had to be aware enough of its host’s response to its entry to gauge how quickly it should go. This was perhaps the most jarring transition for Autumn. The fading from one existence into another. As more of her mist emptied out of the world and into Candace, Autumn became less aware of the way she saw the world around her and more aware of the body she was inhabiting and the way that body saw the world. The more of this awareness she gained, the more she faded from her materialized existence., details slipping away one by one until ever the blue of her eyes went out. Candace was about to open her mouth in question, only to realize it wasn’t hers to open anymore. |
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by Autumn Rose on November 10th, 2019, 5:39 pm 
