To Be Human II

[Alice Weaver]

5th of Autumn, 521

Alice appeared in a flurry of recombining soulmist moments after blinking away up to the second floor, a static buzz around her form making it obvious that the ghost was excited. The man that was sleeping on a well-stocked bed was completely unaware of her excitement as his breath continued to rise and fall at a rate that was barely considered living.

“This is going to be so fun! These clothes are just step one! I want to feel the mud between my fingers, the blast of the whipping winds…” There was a pause before her eyes went wide, “And a pie! I want a whole pie all to myself! The only thing I’ve eaten since getting that body was a half raw snake, a few unlucky bugs, and swamp fowl. Now is my chance to feel again. One day at a time being free from this senseless hell.”

Though she would never admit it being a ghost wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be and it definitely has had made her life a lot more interesting these past few seasons. Who would have guessed that people who routinely interact with the dead more than the living tended to be just a bit off?

“So many times I wanted to run out bare as the day I was born just to feel something that wasn’t buzzing insects, fetid swamp water, or the squirming of snakes under feet. Yet I have no desire to get arrested for public indecency and scaring half the children on the street. Nevertheless, let us get ready for our first trip out!” She finished speaking to the catatonic body, already pulling out a few things that a physical body could use that she could not.

First placed on the man’s left wrist was a small and unassuming trinket that looked like a black pearl bound in place by woven black leather straps. The last time she touched it she was plagued by visions of the realm beyond where ghosts go when they don’t pass on but get dusted. A dark plane where creatures of horrible make and model consumed the spirit, leaving them just as twisted and dark as they were. It was a place Alice never wanted to go and gave credence to the idea that there were worth things than death after all.

The trinket wasn’t all doom and gloom to be fair to it because impressing upon the ghost how horrible of a place it also gave her a glimpse of how to stave off the few of those creatures that slip through this world...and possibly mind-altering magic of this world.

One particular hypnotist who owned this building came to mind. While Alice accepted the fact that her mind was probably messed with, and for good reason, it didn’t stop her from wanting to avoid any more of that...and possibly learn the skill. A body-hopping and mind-altering ghost sounded like a dangerous combo that Alice wanted to add to her barren toolbox.

The only other magic item she had to gift to her new body was an amulet that hummed with a faint warmth that even the ghost due to the djet it gave off. It was a hand tool that the ghost would most likely get good use out of one day. It acted as a compass to things the user had legitimately lost. And with her measly yet valuable possession, Alice wanted to keep track of it all. It even worked on living things so maybe one day if she grew close enough to a person she would always be able to find them, no matter how far they were.

With that comforting thought, her accessorizing had come to an end as she drifted above the body, basking in the light of a chuck of a fallen star, known as a Twilight Star, and tried to recall how much a much too large of a pie cost one nowadays.


WC: 665

[Alice Weaver]

Alice waited with bated breath, flitting to and from around the room, blinking in excitement from one corner to the other. She was barely becoming visible between the blinks and her soulmist was lagging behind her body giving her a smeared appearance further distorted by refracting light beams.

Knock! Knoc-

The second knock was cut off as Maro’s hand flew through where the wooden door and smashed through where Alice’s face would have been if she finished forming from the blink. Maro managed to keep his composure as a grown woman was acting more like a puppy than an adult, tracking his every movent with a light behind her eyes that spoke of raw, unfiltered excitement.

“Your clothes and jacket, Miss?” He said with an even tone as he held out the bundle.

<Maro does good work.> Alice observed as the tan jacket had lost its brown hue, left with only the barest trace of a muddy grave. “Thank you, Maro! You are a lifesaver.” She quickly spoke, nearly biting her tongue in her haste, before reaching out and half snatching, half taking, the bundle from his hands. “I’ll be out for a few bells. If I’m not back before nightfall maybe let someone know, ok?”

Every the polite housekeeper Maro nodded his head as an affirmative before he spun on his heels and walked down an empty corridor of Infinity, Alice’s door clicking softly shut behind him.

“Now Infinity,” The ghost began, “no peeking.” As she finished her warning she felt the house’s attention turn politely elsewhere as she set the clothes at the base of the bed, precariously balanced on the fluffy sheets. Alice took a stance at the head of the bed her hand clutching at the headboard as she peered into the sleeping body.

“Ok Cavan, let’s go have some fun.”

And without further adieu she broke her form into filaments of soul that arced through the air like the lightest threads. The threads of pale white circled around the body, licking at the body’s outline and piece by piece slipping inside. She took this possession slow, unwilling to have any damage befall this gift.

The threads disappeared into the body after a few dozen hearts as they continued their journey through the man’s nerves, bones, and djet channels. The slow crisscrossing of threads hyperdense as Alice became the soul for the body, feeling every muscle fiber, every inch of flesh, greedily sucked in the soulmist, starved for an astral body to replace its lost one.

The feeling was so much more intense than a regular possession. A regular possession was one that felt like a puppeteer, twisting strings from a distance, but this was deeper. Now there was no puppeteer, no strings, only a single actor under one mind.

Alice regained her mind shortly after fusing, their shared eyes flying open as a grey color ate into the green that was the man’s original eye color as her soul made changes to the body to make it more comfortable. The eyes, after all, were the window to the soul.

WC: 516

[Alice Weaver]

The first thing Alice did was fling an arm over her eyes as the piercing light streaming in played havoc with her new senses. Her eyes rapidly expanded and contracted, desperately seeking equilibrium.

With that simple action, her mind was further assaulted with the feel of the soft sheets ghosting over her skin, silk-smooth, and just a tad bit cool, like five feathers tickling her whole body. A laugh rumbled through her body, deeper than she was used to with it having from a man’s chest.

There was no better way than to wake up feeling in soft, warm sheets, nestled up to their shared neck in comforters. The heat was violent as it was soothing, coming from every angle and reaching every corner of the body.

<I could stay here forever…> She thought wistfully as she rotated in bed, rolling herself in the blankest and landing on her side. Now pleasantly squeezed as well as warm as the scent of fresh linen flooded her nose, invoking a large sneeze.

“ACHOO!” And in a rush of movement, she was sitting ramrod straight in her bed, blankets falling to the side, the moisture-filled air tickling against her skin and causing gooseflesh to ripple like a wave down her body.

As one does when they just get out of bed, Alice sat where she was as her arms raised to the sky, and for the first time in almost seven years, Alice stretched. The roar of her blood loud in her ears and the pleasant twang of her muscles being pulled after sitting still for so long shot a heavenly dose of pleasure through her mind. A dose that only soared higher as she felt the pop, pop, pop, of each and every vertebra relieving tension as she continued to reach for the ceiling.

The act of being alive, the warmth on her legs, and the chill on her upper body and the crack of her body brought a slightly ashamed moan to her lips as her face flushed with fire.

“I’m...I’m blushing?” Alice spoke hesitantly, “I’m- I’M BLUSHING!” Was the triumphant cry as she pressed a hand to her burning face before she moved in a flurry. Blankets were carelessly scattered across the floor as she twisted to hand her feet off the bed, embracing the wet chill of the air as it wrapped around her body so completely.

“That’s right, World. I’m back and I’m here to stay.” She reveled in the feeling of now having a solid presence and even more so in the feeling of cool air rushing into her lungs, expanding the balloon-like organs as her body sweetly encouraged her to keep doing that life-giving skill.

Not one to be kept waiting Alice maneuvered her feet to touch the rough wooden floor. Her toes curled into the floorboards, seeking every crack and imperfection as she committed the texture to memory.

Slowly she pushed herself out of the bed, feeling the Worlds pull on her greaten as she left the soft and squishy texture of the mattress. A wide grin plastered itself to her face as she languorously approached the bundle of clothes she so helpfully procured for herself.

WC:536

[Alice Weaver]

There was something so humanizing about putting clothes on to yourself. It was almost a right of passage for children, being able to dress yourself, and it was no less of a big moment for Alice. For the first time in six years, she was able to dress, with clothes she picked, bought with her own money, as wasn’t formed of ethereal decayed djet.

Not only was the act mentally rewarding but the sensations that flowed along with it were simply divine. The ruffle of the fabric against shaky hands, the feeling of the soft textured wool sliding across warm flesh, and the feeling of cold turning to heat as the clothes were warmed by her natural body temperature. Oh, how wonderful it was to run at a temperature that did not cause ice to form at her touch and the sky to flake in snow or hail when she walked in the rain.

All the sensations bound Alice to the idea that it was all real. This was happening and she would never forget that fact. From the heft of walking with leather boots to the rustle of cotton running over cotton whispering softly, she would never forget.

The spirit had to take a moment to compose herself standing in front of her door, taking more time to run shaky fingers over the soft rabbit fur jacket that cradled her body, the cool metal of the doorhandle sending tingles up to her elbow. She took a deep breath as the door opened with a click and creek and she stepped out into the hall.

Instantly her nose twitched with the scents of a working home twisting through her sinus. The smell of fresh wood polish, dry wood, and even the scent of this morning’s breakfast lingered in the air.

“Home. It is not my home, but it smells like a Home.” She let out a sad sigh as a bead of moisture formed in the corner of her eye. “No no, none of that Alice.” She chided herself while raising a finger to wipe away the tear feeling her finger grow damp with the moisture. “This is your home now. A place where you can have an impact. Make this mean something. Use it and open the gates for others to follow. It doesn’t matter if I’m hated for it or Maderia finds it disturbing, it’s my goal, my purpose...but for now, pie!” She finished with a chuckle and shake of her head, repressing the growing depression and anger in her core heading off down the steps.

When you have to abide by walls and objects in your path going anywhere felt slow. She only had to strike a table corner with her hip once to resolve to never do that again. It felt like a knife took her in her hip and she felt that was enough pain for today.

Now limping slightly down the stairs she came into the familiar room of the entrance of Infinity the door already opening as Infinity sensed her intention and threw the Ghost a bone. A bone she was grateful for having struggled with many door handles as a spirit. The pale grey light raced into the home, lighting a strip to the outside bidden with a cool gust of air.

Alice turned her gaze slightly down and lifted an arm to shade her eyes as she stepped through the rectangle of light into a world of feeling, emotion, and light.

WC: 585

[Alice Weaver]

In a daze, she stepped off the porch and onto the rough cobbles that lead away from the Infinity Manor. She tipped her head back as she felt a breeze blow down the street rustling her hair before finding the edges of her jacket and blowing it wide open.

“Petch that’s cold!” She exclaimed as she crossed her arms to pin down the flapping fabric of her jacket against the relentless wind. Her face grew flush at the cold that rushed down her body and the slight dampness that was sticking to her clothes from the overcast day.


“What a day to be alive.” She chirped to no one in particular, drawing a few odd glances from pedestrians at her statement as the day that in all respects was dreary and cold. It was not, as she said, a great day to be alive but to each their own, they thought as they went about their day maybe with slightly more speed to put space between them and the ghost-infested manor.

Alice paid them no mind, distracted as she was by the sights, feels, and smells of the city. The rich scent of the mud was cut through by the fresh scent of recent rainfall. And if she strained really hard she could just barely catch the scent of wet wood and the multitude of wildflowers that dotted the property around the Manor.

Like a child in a candy shop, the ghost given flesh spun in her boots and glanced around the world of sensations at her fingertips. The closest new feeling is arguably the most childish, mud. It rested on the ground thick and syrupy with patches of dryer spots and small pools of water contained within. She crouched down on the edge of the cobbles and reached down, dragging a finger through the substance.

Cool, creamy, and highly textured was the feedback that raced up her pointer finger as she quickly drew a smiley face in the mud. Not only was it confirming her possession of senses but she finally had the easy ability to leave her tangible mark on the world. No hard work manipulating soulmist and being bound by an arbitrary weight limit but just a simple drag of the finger. Barely any effort on her part. It was almost unfair how easily the living could make their mark on the world, but she supposed that was a downside of being dead. She no longer was meant to have the ability to leave her mark on the world and any little scratch or scrape she could make on the surface was worth every drop of blood, sweat, and soulmist to do it.

“Enough playing in the mud,” she spoke to herself, feeling the faint vibrations of her vocal cords cascade through her chest as she finished doodling a stylized version of her name within the surface of the world.

With a faint chuckle, the now human ghost stood while wiping her finger across the patch of wet grass to her left, feeling the collection of dew accumulated and wash away the silt stuck to it. However, a few stubborn particles remind underneath this body’s longer fingernails. A good reminder that while she could affect the world easier now so too could the world touch her effortlessly.

“It would be embarrassing to get murdered twice in the span of six years, no? And I do not think I would find another soulless body anytime soon...unless I could make one? Can you filter out the soul of a body like this one? Hrmmm...what even is the soul…” The ghost mused as she began to walk along the cobbles delighting in the sensation of feedback from touching earth and stone as she entered the semi-busy streets of Lhavit proper.
WC: 632

[Alice Weaver]

If Lhavit was beautiful and awe-inspiring when dead it was even more so when your senses were burning from both ends and lighting on fire from even the smallest sight, sound, scent, or even touch. It took a large chunk of Alice’s willpower to just keep her mouth from hanging agape as she had to fall into a steady breathing rhythm with a deep look of concentration.

Much like an oversensitized baby, she felt as she might burst out in tears any moment as she caught the scent of sweat, oversweet food, and all other manors of strong scents. She found that the few herbal stores she passed were the worst. The harsh tang of medicinal herbs blew her sinuses clear of anything they might have been clinging on to and whipped the membranes into overdrive. It had been almost ten chimes since she passed that herbal store in the large, wandering circles of her route and she still had that blasted scent of mint stuck in her nose.

“It has to be a mint thing. Madeira had mint that I could smell as well. Does mint simply have such an obnoxious scent that it pierces even the veil of life and death? Good on the mint plant I guess but please stop.” She bemoaned mint’s reality-warping scent as she rubbed her nose to try and force the scent to leave her alone.

Alice this day decided she did not like mint. It never did anything for anyone but act as a weed and burn your nose with its scent. It was at that moment she walked past a quaint teashop whose name she could not remember because the scent of mint tea drifted out and churned her stomach. She did not even have time to enjoy the scent of the other wonderful teas, chamomile, cinnamon, and even a chai-like mixture choc-full of cardamom before her legs were moving before she even realized it. Her now reactive body triggered its fight or flight from a simple if aggressive strong scent.

The wet wind that raged through her face as she bolted down the streets finally blew that awful scent away and cleared her mind putting forth a new barrage on her senses. This time the wind was not the thing triggering the overload but her own body. Now that she was not in a life or death situation with the chance to get eaten by an overgrown lizard or bit by a viper she realized that a living body was very loud.

The sloshing of an empty stomach that let out a loud rumble at the sudden activity. The pounding of her heart in her breast that tapped an unhappy rhythm as it fleed the dreaded mint. And not only were there the sounds of activity, the blood rushing, the rustle of clothes but there was also the feel of bodily motion. The twist and extension of muscles, the burn of stiff muscles being squeezed and stretched as her legs made impacts on the road below. Her eyes darted around as her flight brought her four streets over faster than she ever ran before only brought to a halt when she noted the few odd starts she caught in the corner of her vision at her quite random flight.

Deciding at the tenth person to give her a look that she was far away she went through the process of calming the body. Now not a puppeteer she had to go through the motions of a few soothing words to her subconscious that now had direct control over something and convincing the second her just below the surface that the scent is gone. It did not take much but it took a few thoughts as slowly the heart rate slowed and her legs stopped moving in a rapid cadence coming down from its runners high at the end of a street that opened into a large plaza in the shape of a square that had a good few people of all makes and models wandering around. The pedestrians listened to the artists or dipped off to speak with vendors that nestled themselves away in offshoots from the plaza.

Alice took this relaxing scene as a chance to lean her body against a nearby brick building, letting her chest rise and fall as she had a grin stuck across her face. From that short-run, her body was already leaking droplets of sweat that twisted down the side of her face and weighted the body’s finger-length brown hair down.

<Being alive is messy work, isn’t it?> She thought to herself as she dragged a jacketed arm across her forehead and looked at the wet patch of salty preparation that clung to the fabric. <Maybe I’ll finally be able to use that bathroom that’s so wonderful in the Manor. But anyway, my flight from the mint was not planned but at least it brought me to a good central location. And from here...from here I know where to go next.> She thought to herself as she pushed herself off the building wall and strode with purpose. The idea of confections sitting forefront in her mind, conscious and subconscious alike.

WC: 869

[Alice Weaver]

The place she had set as her destination was well spoken of in Lhavit as one of the best breakfasts one could get on the whole mountain. The quaint place was known as The Sunrise Nook and was attached to another popular place in Lhavit called the Shooting Star Inn. The Sunrise was known for its friendly atmosphere, amazing pastries, and the most important fact to the ghost, that it closed shortly afternoon. If she rushed she should be able to get there with a chime to spare and get one of those famous pies.

As she twisted through the streets of Lhavit, at times having to stop and ask for directions, she heard the distant boom of a thunderclap just over the mountain range followed by a heavy breeze. Many turned to look towards the direction of the sound trying to gauge how far away the clouds were. A good portion of the crowd decided that the clouds were close enough and decided to quickly wrap up their business and seek shelter at their homes. Alice was unbothered by the approaching storm, however, reasoning that a little rain never hurt anyone, especially when there was a pie on the line.

Besides, the coming rain was helpful in clearing the streets of the city’s citizens making the travel to the Sunrise Nook all the quicker. And in a blink of an eye, Alice rounded a corner and spotted the simple red and white striped canvas portico that shaded the heavy crimson dor that marked the building as the Sunrise Nook. A few partons were still entering and exiting the building the door seeming to be in a constant state of motion as people came and went. Some left with full bellies while others left with tarts, pies, and other such confections held tightly within their hands.

Alice could feel her growing excitement as she made her way towards the door, delighted at the chance to finally taste something made with love that did not try to kill her first as she went to eat it. No more snakes or insects or lizards for her for a long time.

The spyglass handle of the door grew warm under her hand as she pushed down and opened the door into the Nook. The scent of warm baked goods rushed out and curled around her body like an inviting hug as she stepped inside.

WC: 401

[Alice Weaver]

Alice knew that the Nook was a wonderful place even before her foot crossed the threshold. The warm sound of conversation, baked goods, and breakfast permeated every surface of the shop as pastries of all kinds rested under the protection of a glass case. People were already forming an orderly queue waiting in front of a wooden bar where a few servers rushed behind, throwing parceled goods at the waiting guests and swiftly collecting money and bidding them a fair day...despite the impending thunderstorm.

The ghost in human form quickly formed a spot in the queue to stake her claim in the line. Her eyes locked on a large pie that sat filled to the brim with so very red cherries that were suspended in a thick and glossy syrup.

<Six more to go!> Then there were only four...then two...and finally one as Alice felt her growing excitement at the prospect of her prize. Only to be totally crestfallen when the Woman and Child in front of her purchased the large cherry pie she had her eye on. Her shoulders slumped and even if it was pedantic and childish and began to step out of the line, despondent that the one thing that she was so excited about disappeared.

Just as she was about to step out of the line a red-haired woman called out to her.

“Sir, wait! Just for you. Fresh out of the oven.” The red-haired angel smiled across the display case.

“Really! Ahem Really?” She controlled herself as she stepped back up to the counter, already fishing out the amount of Kina that was needed for the pie, four kina to be precise.

“Yes really.” The woman laughed, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. You new here?” She spoke while she continued to wrap the pie in crinkling brown baker’s paper.

“Ah yes. Yes, I am. My name is Cavan. And you are?”

“Wow, you must be really new here then. My name is Ajah. I run this place, nice to make your acquaintance and I hope to see you around, Cavan. You have a good eye for solid pies.” She finished with a chuckle as she took the kina out of Alice’s outstretched hand and smoothly passed the wrapped pie to Alice. The large and weighty pastry radiated warmth up her arms.

“Thank you. And I think I will.” She threw a smile at the woman’s retreating back as she smoothly stepped out of line with the pie in her hands. The perfect spot to eat in already blooming in her mind as she exited the store with a pep in her step and her mouth already full of saliva at the prospect of the sweet.

Purchases :

Large Pie- 4 Kina

WC: 457

[Alice Weaver]

Alice found herself back in the square Surya Plaza for the third time this day, now burdened with a large cherry pie wrapped in paper nestled under her arm. Her eyes were set on the transparent skyglass structures that emerge from the plaza at regular intervals. They stretched like gossamer spiderwebs from one peak to the next, suspended over the large mass of open-air that sat in the valley between the peaks of Lhavit.

The wonderful view that overlooked the misty valleys and rolling clouds that were rapidly closing in on the plaza seemed like just the right place to enjoy a taste of life. Right. On. The. Edge

Her mind made up she wandered her way through the now mostly empty plaza and found a skyglass sky bridge that was further away from the more traversed bridges. Through her search finding one that was off to the side of the Plaza and in addition to having a slight dip that brought in slopping down below the platform of the Plaza. Perfectly out of sight and out of mind the skybridge was. The perfect place for the ghost to enjoy her danger, pie, and view all at the same time.

She was not going to lie walking out on a skybridge with winds blowing was a bit concerning now that she had a real fear of falling to her death. Which would be her second death, albeit a bit more embarrassing to fall to your death than the tragic mugging victim of a robbery gone wrong and a sharp knife. But she digressed, focused as she was on banishing the thoughts of awkwardly falling to her death as she walked across the glass bridge, that like all well-built bridges, swayed slightly in the breeze to keep from snapping into a million pieces.

It was a short but quite terrifying adjustment period learning to walk on a swaying object as her boot-clad foot kept running into the side of the bridge. Or once her hip-checked into the side of the railings and she stumbled, nearly tipping her pie over the side in surprise.

She, at the point, decided that almost a quarter of the way across the bridge was fine enough, as the amusing thought of tipping a pie onto someone way down below was discarded. So Alice took the position, leaning against the railing of the bridge back almost level with the rail as she placed the pie between her arms and ‘sat’ on the other railing behind her. A comfortable lean, if a bit stretched, was what she was going for and created the perfect nestled location for the shinning pie, right in front of her face.

As she was licking her lips her mind whispered a tiny yet important note to her.

<I forgot a fork...or a knife...hell even napkins. Whoops.> The ghost it seemed was still very not used to everything that went into being again as the small things kept escaping her, such as breathing. She was just glad that she could feel when she forgot to breathe in this body when a burning sensation bloomed across it and remind her to take a breath. It was a very handy thing to have around she had to admit.

But back to the task at hand and the issues that were summarily circumvented by Alice digging a hand into the now cooled pie under an overcast sky. The ooze of the filling, the soft but firm squish of the baked cherries all activating a multitude of good feelings in her brain as something just felt right eating things with your hand. A feeling of rebelliousness and childishness was quickly overtaking her as she could distantly hear her mother scolding her for getting mud all over her dress and not acting very ladylike.

“And I’d do it again, Mother. Anything for my brothers.” She whispered to herself, recalling the memory of where she had to smack around an older boy for teasing her younger brother and getting herself thrown in a mud puddle for it. She walked away from that with a muddy dress and the bully walked away with a bloody nose and wounded ego so she called that a win in her books. Once again she shook her head to clear the memories, being alive again and having physical reactions to emotions and sensations unlocking memories that the ghost forgot she ever had, as her finger made contact with the crumb crust.

The harder texture of the well-baked crust was in stark contrast to the gooey filling of sweetened and candied cherries, requiring a lot more force to crack a piece off. The sensations that went with breaching the crust of the pie were also different as she felt a few pieces wedge under her fingernails and apply a firm pressure between the bed of her nail and where the flesh fused to it. It was, oddly, one of the more deep and tactile experiences the ghost had experienced today and one of the highlights. It was such a small part of the body yet it could feel so deeply was simply amazing as the sense of conflicting textures made her toes curl with anticipation of the fact that this tactile sensation was soon going to be followed by a flavor sensation.

WC: 888

[Alice Weaver]

The chunk of pie that was roughly excavated from its base sat with a faint warmth in Alice’s hand. The juices of the cherries already making a run for freedom by sliding down her arm to wrap around her wrist. The juice was so red it must have looked as if she had slit her own wrist and the juice was a flow of her lifeblood dripping to the sparkling skyglass below. Bit and pieces of the messy handful splattered playfully to the ground around her, a few unlucky pieces getting ejected over the side of the bridge and left to the mercy of the wind and gravity, ripped out of sight rapidly.

The ghost raised her hand to her mouth, pausing the chunk of pie before it touched her lips, and let the smell waft into her nose. The smell of browned butter, fresh cherries, and sweet cane sugar were at the forefront but underneath it all there was the acidity of citrus of some kind. It was most likely lemon, that not only balanced out the teeth-rotting sweetness of the pie but expanded and elevated the depths of the cherries to a level that the two fruits could never achieve on their own. Together they were greater than the sum of their own parts, a fitting lesson for a ghost who was currently residing in a body the needed her to function.

Without her, this body would never walk again and without this body, she would never feel again. It was here that Alice swore that she would protect this body with all her being. Not just because this body was her ticket to finding out how to become human again but it deserved to be treated with respect and enjoy in the good life that Alice enjoyed through it. Maybe if she got good at fixing those with her condition she could figure out a way to give this body its own life, its own soul once more. She got the feeling that he would like that as warmth spread from the chest of their body.

But enough contemplation, there was a pie to be eaten! Alice shook off the mood she put herself in as she restarted her hand reaching toward her mouth and without further hesitation placed the fragment of pie into her waiting mouth. As soon as the mess of cherries and browned butter crust touched her tongue her mind lit up like a thousand fireworks. The sweetness of the cherries was a solid middle pitched that was bolstered by the low base of the savory butteriness of the crust and before all the flavors faded from her mouth there was the high pitched crescendo of citrus that wiped the palate clean and wanting for more.

The ghost was no longer able to control herself, like a man in the desert at an oasis, and set about devouring the pie. Chunk after chunk, piece after piece, was ripped from the pie and then shoved into her mouth. Tears began to stream down her face in ugly streams, mixing with the blood-red of the cherry juice that coated the bottom half of her face. It was not until the pie was three-quarters of the way gone that the ghost had enough to pause her consumption, shocked at her actions.

She backed away from the sweet teetering on the edge of the glass bridge in disgust, the gentle sweetness of the pie turned thick and overwhelmed her mouth as she stared at her stained hands, no, someone else’s stained hands.

“What have we become, Alice.” She whispered to herself, “What are we anymore that we fight so bitterly over this piece of sensation. It’s a pie for Gods sake yet it’s as if it’s the only thing in the world keeping us alive. We are so far gone…” She realized to herself, staring at the cloud overhead as a thick raindrop fell from the sky and splashed across her sticky and stained face.

More raindrops followed as one by one a steady staccato of rain began to beat down on the bridge. At the moment a light drizzle but the close sound of booming thunder promised heavier rainfall to come as she stood, exposed to the elements on the open bridge. Frozen as her clothes became sodden and heavy. The juice of the pie was washed from her face as a gust of wind combined with the rain sent the mostly eaten pie tumbling into the abyss below.

WC: 752