Marina had never reached the age when alcohol became a curiosity, so she didn't have any personal opinion of it, and had a hard time understanding any jokes related to it. The ghost did know that it was a rather strange substance, capable of raising people to a state of euphoria or plunging them into the depths of despair seemingly at random. Drinking was a gamble - would it give you happiness or increase your grief? A real double-edged sword. Marina had observed many people who were not indifferent to alcohol, but was unable to make out any kind of consistent pattern of behavior or attitude. Surely, it was created by some joker of a god, to be unleashed on mortals for that god's amusement.
Evidently, the long-coated spiritist wasn't a drinker. The spectre rarely met someone who expressly denounced alcohol, since drinking was one of the few forms of entertainment available to the lower strata. Staying sober did make one less likely to degenerate into a wretch, as could easily happen to someone whose only fun was at the bottom of a bottle. The spectre didn't comment, but smiled faintly at the man's joke, letting him know that she approved of his standing on the matter.
When offered to join him on his walk, the ghost nodded without much reservation, signaling her approval. At the very least, she could enjoy the spiritist's friendly attitude, until he would inevitably demand something from her. The pair moved unhurriedly along the row of ships, with only Adama's footsteps crunching softly against the gravel. The soft splashes of water and the occasional creaking of wood resounded pleasantly, giving the docks a sense of calm serenity, rather than the creepy silence that settled over the other parts of the city at night. Indeed, it was a good place where one could exile oneself at night, to think in solitude, or simply relax. Taking lonely walks somehow seemed to be a highly fitting hobby for a spiritist. For the first time that evening, Marina snuck a curious glance at the tall man, not because he reminded her of someone, but because she was becoming interested in him as a person.
"Quite the spectacle, huh..." The ghost's words trailed off, and she turned her head away from him briefly, her gaze vanishing beyond the dark, barely visible horizon that was visible between the ships. As much as she wanted to forget the recent exchange and treat this Adama as the complete stranger he was, his uncannily familiar statement nudged the unwanted memories back into her mind. The awkward feeling that has plagued her ever since she first laid eyes upon him didn't vanish, despite him making clear that he wasn't anyone she knew; it was becoming difficult to ignore.
"Me? This principality is my home. I need no excuse to visit here." It was the truth, mostly. The concept of home was a rather vague thing for a ghost, and Marina wasn't one of those examples who felt a strong connection to her place of death as such. Zeltiva was somewhere she desired to return to when she got her life back; lingering here in this state was pointless. That's the explanation Marina would have normally offered. But since some time, the city was no longer merely a faceless factor to her, and she found herself wanering back here more often than strictly necessary. She would then haunt the docks for a short while, and leave without getting anything meaningful done. Tonight was supposed to be such an event, but it turned out different this time. Ultimately though, this encounter was going to be forgotten soon. Hopefully. For many reasons, the social call this strange man was making didn't compensate for the strong unease he created in her.
Silence fell between them for another while; somehow, Marina felt more comfortable this way, so she didn't want to break it. The seemingly infinite forest of masts was finally starting to thin; it looked like the end of the docklands was close. The spectre suddenly veered off the road and floated out above one of the piers; a rather flimsy one, without railings. It was obviously in disrepair, and there was no ship docked near it; being on the sidelines, it probably escaped the attention of both the arriving captains and the workers. However, it went rather far out onto the water, and the lack of nearby looming vessels made it less claustrophobic, and the line of sight on the starlit sky much clearer.
Turning back to her companion, the ghost spoke to him, with a hint of provocation in her ethereal voice. "Is there truly no storm brewing in the distance?" Her question was rather random, and the clean horizon made it obvious that there wasn't going to be a storm anytime soon. Still, the spectre was there, halfway out on the dangerously neglected pier. Her dim, unblinking eyes seemed to invite the spiritist to step formward to join her. |
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by Marina Agamand on October 2nd, 2013, 9:18 pm 
