Sending Night

[Maro]

Sending Night 28th of Winter, 516 AV Early morning rolled around, and Maro rolled out of bed. It was early morning. The sun had not yet risen, but it was the time of day Maro was accustomed to waking at. As soon as he rolled over, there was a shimmer over the other side of the bed. A ghost materialized there and blinked her eyes as if the morning sun was too bright. Maro laughed at her. “You know there’s no sun to make you blink, right?” She glared at him but couldn’t keep a smile from slipping across her face. “I like to pretend I’m still alive every now and again. The least you could do is humor me.” “I’ll try.” He let her follow him to the simple table in their little ramshackle house. “You know what today is?” Autumn paused, trying to think of the significance of the day. She wrinkled her eyes and pursed her lips in concentration, but nothing came to her. Looking at him, she shook her head. “It’s the first new moon of winter.” Realization sunk in, but there was no joy in her eyes, not the way there used to be when this day came around. “The Arriving Night.” The Arriving Night had been celebrated in Black Rock on the first new moon of winter every year. No one knew if it was true or not, but the rumors were that the Stone at the top of the Watchtower flared brighter on this night for lack of the moon. Some believed it was Priskil’s way of bringing hope to the dead. Whatever the cause, more ghosts arrived at the Isle of the Dead that night than any other. In Black Rock, it was a celebration and a welcoming of new friends, a new hope for those who had lost so much. Here, in the light of everything that had happened since the beginning of the season, it was just another reminder of death, death before its time. They had decided several years ago that this day would be Autumn’s special day, instead of her birthday. Her birthday had also become her deathday, and she preferred to not relive that day in her mind. There was little she could do on that day to shake the sorrow and pain of memory. Autumn looked away, trying to drown out the more recent, unpleasant memories, memories of a people hunted down merely for their association with another. “It hardly seems worth celebrating.” “It just seems to be a reminder of things I’d rather not remember.” She nodded. “It almost makes me wish I’d kept my birthday as my special day.” Maro raised an eyebrow and looked at her with his head cocked to one side. When she looked back at him, she saw the question in his eyes and glared. “Almost. I said almost. No day was worse than that day, at least for me.” He nodded. “I’m sorry.” Autumn sighed, probably more for effect and to make her emotions understood. “Let’s just try to make this day a better one than the ones that came before it.” “Mist?” That brought a smile to her face. “Yes, please.” Gathering what little flour and other ingredients they had, he laid them out on the table. First, he lay out the flour in a pile. Then he added the other ingredients one at a time, drizzling honey over the top, then cracking several eggs and dumping them in, and finally sprinkling crushed, dried wraithmint over the top. That finally ingredient, while not crucial, gave the Soulmist a special characteristic that no other ingredient could, at least none Maro knew of. Wraithmint made ghosts experience sensations again, or at the very least gave them memories of what feeling was like, memories so vivid they felt real. Making the dough was a task that could easily become wrote, and that was why Maro made sure it didn’t become that way. If any of the process was treated as insignificant, it became insignificant in the maker’s eye, in their mind, and in their soul, and insignificance did not make Soulmist. Every part was crucial; every ingredient and step was unnecessary on its own. It was the whole of the process that led to success, and every part had to be treated as if it was as significant as the whole. He kneaded the dough with care, making sure the ingredients were wholly mixed but ensuring the dough was not overly worked. It was a fine line, one he still didn’t comprehend fully; he was no baker or cook of any kind. Half the time, he ate his fish raw. But that didn’t matter. He tried, and the effort he put toward the task, the care that he gave to every detail, helped to make the Mist form. Stopping just shy of the completed dough, he left the product on the table before drawing his obsidian knife from his pocket.

[Phira]

28 Winter 516

Phira was usually not one who remembered her dreams, not because she couldn't but because she didn't see the need for it. But the dream she just awoke from was one she wanted to hold on to for a little longer. It started off as her just lying in one of her favorite trees back on Black Rock. It was her favorite because she could see Lady Dira's spire, and it had a nice gap in the canopy where she could see Syna, Leth, and the stars when she wanted to. But as the dream went on she began dreaming of her family, her mother singing as she sat next to the fire helping her little sister Lysia 'dance' (which was just her bouncing up and down on her chubby baby legs), her father making diner.

When she walked into the room they all looked up and smiled at her, and called her over. She went not minding that anything like that ever happened. Not to say her parents never smiled at her or that they never had a good time by the fire. But they never were so jovial. However it was such a nice to be around them even if it was just a dream.

She did miss them and sat wondering what they were doing right now? Probably what they did every day, and that was why she left, because of the repetitiveness. Even still she missed watching them go about their day. Her mother singing a little song while she hung the laundry, her father's cooking, her baby sister Ila's cooing. Her sister had to be so big by now.

She stepped outside into a sunny Endrykas. She loved that even though it was winter that there wasn't any snow in Alvadas...well in Taldera-Alvadas there was a lot of snow. And it would seem that it didn't matter if Alvadas had controlled weather because of the whole Mowen issue. No matter, she wouldn't think those heavy thoughts today (even though she thought about them everyday). How many Vantha have died already? How many are running for their lives right now? She wished she could help them more, but that was all she could do was wish. She had no way of sheltering them if they came to her for aid.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her head, she decided that today shwas was going to walk in a zigzag pattern. Taking a left, then a right, then a left, then another right until she got to the Patchwork Docks, which was easier to find today than previous days. It only took 45 chimes, a new record.

Work was pretty busy and non-eventful. It was a nice and calm afternoon. After her shift she found that Syna was almost done for the day. She had a couple more bells before she went down completely. She decided that she would take her time getting home. It was nice to be able to just walk around, enjoying the time to herself.

[Maro]

Maro undid the cloth strap that was tied around his hand to reveal the multiple cuts that littered his palm. Nearly every day, he made Soulmist for Autumn, and Soulmist required blood. Drawing the knife across his palm with just enough pressure to break the skin, being careful to not cross any previous cuts, he let his blood drip from his clenched fist into the dough. Once he judged enough blood had been let, he tied a clean strip of cloth around the hand and set the old one aside to wash later. Then, he kneaded the blood into the dough with his uncut hand. The next step was the eating of the dough, so Maro took mouthful and chewed it thoughtfully. Even the simplest steps were necessary for the proper creation of Mist. Chewing the dough, he let the acknowledged each flavor as it met his tongue. There was the bready taste of the flour, the sweet of the honey, the bite of the mint, and the iron tang of the blood. Every flavor made the dough unique. Once the dough was thoroughly chewed so its consistencies and flavors melded into one, Maro swallowed. Meditation was key for the creation of the Mist, so Maro let his focus slip to the full feeling in his belly. It was pleasant and filled him with a warmth. Slowly, his focus turned to other things that made him feel warm. There were the obvious things: a ray of sunshine, a crackling fire, the sheets of a bed, but there were some things one wouldn’t expect. That was where his mind finally came to rest, on the cold touch of a ghost, Autumn specifically. Though her touch was frigid, it always brought a warmth that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being, from his soul or some other unknown source. He was terrible at understanding such things and even worse about speaking of them, but for now, he didn’t need to understand them. All he needed was to know how it made him feel, as if it were the first spark and he was the fire. He concentrated on that feeling, hoping his gift of Mist could give the same feeling back to a ghost. One thing he wasn’t sure of was whether it was all ghosts’ touches or just Autumn’s that made him feel this way. His mind kept returning to the same sensation, warmth, and soon, he was lost in it. When he came back to himself, he did so without any anger at his mind having wandered. The wandering mind was as much a part of him as any specific meditation was, and if Maro was honest with himself, it was a part of himself he truly enjoyed. Readying himself, he shifted to his jackal self in a brief, vivid flash of light. Regurgitating into one of the bowls he had set aside, he marveled at the soft white glow of the gel that sat before him, the gel he had created. There was pride in that fact, though the gel itself was nothing most ghosts would go out of their way for. He stored the gel in one of his little glass vials, corked it, and took another mouthful of dough. When he was finished, he had filled every vial he had, five regular vials and two pendant vials that hung on his now empty Ashl necklace, and Autumn had had her fill. They waited for nightfall to approach, then gathered the Mist and a bell Autumn had received from Dira. They used it as a good luck charm, but it was supposed to have a calming effect on ghosts when it was rang. Stepping out into the fading light, Maro and Autumn began to wander the streets of Alvadas, perhaps for the first time not looking lost as they did so. They couldn’t be lost, as they weren’t searching for a specific location. Instead, they were simply hoping for the chance encounter with a once-living soul.

[Phira]

00 SEASON 516

She walked through the streets, Syna getting lower and lower. It was a nice night in the Alvadas city of Sunberth. The air was warm and a cooling wind blew by occassinally messing up her hair in the process. The city still didn't let rules rule it, and the streets and buildings now took on the atributes of liquid gold and knowing Sunberth it was more like liquid fool's gold. And though it looked like you would sink in the gold, it was actually solid like pavement.

The bell that rang when the temple disappeared echoed through the streets and she stopped. She could still feel the slight bruise on her nose from running face first into the building on her first day here. She smiled at the memory, she had such a hard couple of days here. 4 arms, bumping into an appearing temple, found a job on the beach, a trip down to the Underground, a run in with some very aggressive ghosts, before finally finding what she was looking for. It was hard, but she came out better for it. And now she knew which doors to not open and which streets not to go down.

The thoughts of the ghosts forest came flooding back to her. She still didn't know why all those ghosts were down there, and what they must be feeling. The crying and the screams of pain echoed through her head like she was there again. Those poor people. She grew up with relatively happy ghosts, and had never run into one that held that much anger in. To run into an entire forest; her heart hurt for them. She felt sad for them to have to be stuck down there for whatever reason.

She stood behind a man painting gold Sunberth-Alvadas. It was beautiful the way the sunset hit the gold, and the artist captured it at it's best. Each stroke of his brush made the colors of the sunset more vibrant. He mixed some colors for the gold affect and actually made it look like the gold was running. The only dark colors in the picture were the shadows that were created by Syna retreated from the sky for the day. It was a beautiful picture. She wondered if she had an artistic talent. It would be nice to have some sort of talent, some sort of calling in life.

She watched until he told her to 'get out of his light,' before moving on. She walked in no particular direction and soon found herself turning a corner, running into a man as she did so. It was becoming a habit, but hopefully it turned out as good as the other times.

[Maro]

Maro was not a big man; in fact, he was downright scrawny. Most good gusts of wind threatened to knock him over. That’s why it was no surprise that he found himself on the ground, his things scattered about him. Smiling and brushing some of the dust off himself, he looked up at the woman standing before him. She wasn’t big either, but Maro had been distracted by something Autumn had said to him. Not too nimble on his feet, the gentle collision had made him lose his balance. “Good evening, friend.” He beamed another smile and began to gather the things he had lost during his fall. There wasn’t much as he hadn’t brought much with him from his house. A couple vials of Soulmist had fallen from his pockets and rolled away. One had lost its cork, and a softly glowing, white puddle of Soulmist absorbed into the ground, slowly fading from sight. Picking up the vial, Maro shrugged. “No use crying over spilt Mist.” He scooped up the other vial and placed both into one of his pockets. As his hand left his pocket though, he realized he hadn’t felt Dira’s bell there. Not so certain he had placed it in that pocket, he began to search all his other pockets franticly. It wasn’t much, but it had been a gift from his Goddess and could be useful in their endeavors tonight. “What is it, Maro?” Autumn asked. “I can’t find the bell.” Her bright blue eyes seemed to flash in concern, and she cast her eyes about with him, looking for the simple silver bell. Both their eyes landed on it at the same time where it sat at the feet of the young woman before them. Its beautiful etchings reminiscent of home, of Black Rock, stood out in stark relief in the fading light. There were images of jackals and of Dira, of Death and of the dead, of the island and of the ocean and the battle the two fought against each other on the shore’s line. No one who had been on the island could mistake its outline against the sea. Maro pointed it out to the woman. “Pardon me, friend. Would you mind handing me my bell? It’s important to us. It’s a reminder of home, of why tonight is important. It’s a holiday back home of sorts. Not really a celebration. Just a day of importance.” He didn’t know why he was explaining it to her. Someone who wasn’t from Black Rock would have little care for a holiday that existed only on the Isle of the Dead, but no matter little it mattered to her, it mattered to him and it mattered to Autumn.

[Phira]

00 SEASON 516

She didn't think she hit him that hard, but she in a blink she found him on the ground. "I'm so sorry." Bottles of what she knew to be soul mist and a bell rolled out of his pockets. Who was this guy exactly? She wasn't off put by it, but curious about it. He had so many bottles, one was even spilling out one of them and disappearing on the stones.

He didn't seem to be mad by their collison instead he was in good spirits. He began picking up his things and began frantically searching his pockets for something. It was then she noticed the ghost behind him. It wasn't every day one saw a living person with a ghost friend. Both of them began looking at her and she looked down and spotted the bell he was so desperate to find. She picked it up and looked at the etchings closer. She knew those etchings from any where. Dira and her Jackals, the ocean, the island. This little bell was from Black Rock. She looked at it with nostalgia in her eyes, before he asked her for it back.

She smiled widely, "A holiday but not a holiday? I remember something like that. A silent night to pray for the lost souls of the world. I remember my parents took me to the Tower of the Dead to welcome the ghosts to Black Rock. You are from there too?" Her question was asked with slight excitement. She had met many people, that were all from all different regions of Miza, she had never met another person who was from Black Rock like her. It was hard to relate to people and explain to them where she was from. Most people she has told they expected her to be some sort of death seeker or eerie person instead of the personable, happy person she was. She handed him back his little bell with a friendly smile, "I'm Phira. she introduced herself as she did so.

[Maro]

Maro took the bell from her outstretched hand and let it ring as he held it. The small silver bell let out a single clear note that remained unaffected by the etchings in its surface, a note that stayed on the air an unnaturally long time. It was one of Maro’s favorite sounds in the world, not for its tone or its purity but for the affect it had on Autumn. He glanced her way and watched her worries dissipate in a moment. It was as if everything she had been through, all the terrible things she had seen, had suddenly not happened. They were only forgotten for a moment, he knew, but a moment of peace for all the horror she had witnessed was more than enough. Phira, from Black Rock. A fellow native of his home was the last thing he had expected to encounter on this night, but he was glad he had. Maro felt the night, the celebration, all of it, meant more when it was shared by a multitude, as it was on Black Rock. Tonight, a good portion of the city would be gathered around the Tower of the Dead, awaiting the arrival of ghosts. Three hardly constituted a multitude, but it would be nice if he had another person to help weather the long night ahead with them. He could hardly contain himself as he put the little bell back into his pocket and introduced himself and his dead companion. “I’m Maro, and this is Autumn. I’ve practically lived my whole life in Black Rock, and Autumn died there, so she’s practically lived there her entire death.” It was odd phrasing, but Maro assumed Phira would follow it. “It’s the Arriving Night tonight. Is that why you’re out? We would love the company if you were. Granted, we don’t have the Tower of the Dead to gather at, but if we could find a ghost, we could direct them to the Isle. That would make the night worth it.” Realizing he’d delivered that torrent of sentences rapid fire with no room for a response, he went silent for a moment, hoping she was out celebrating or if she wasn’t that she would join them anyhow, but couldn’t keep himself from asking one more question. “You haven’t happened to see a ghost tonight, have you?”

[Phira]

28 Winter 516

The bell rang out, one solid, pure note, and both the ghost and the man gave off a feeling of serenity for only a tick. She heard the bell and went back to a time where she was with her family and many of those bells echoed throughout the island. She gave a welcoming smile and a shake of her head, ”I only lived on the island for a year until I was old enough to leave, so I really had no idea this was the Arriving Night. But I would love to celebrate it with you and help you find a ghost. I admit I have been feeling a little homesick today so I think this will be the perfect way to reconnect to there again.” she said kindly.

Her smiled turned to a frown when he asked that last question. She shivered thinking about the ghosts down in the Underground, and she could feel a pang in her heart over knowing that there were probably many ghosts of vantha roaming around somewhere. She breathed in deeply, ”Well I haven’t seen any tonight. But I know a place where there are tons of ghosts in the Underground. There is a massive haunting down there for some reason. But they are very aggressive, violent, and sad, and I don’t think it’s a place where we can help any." she said exhaling a long breath, and running her fingers through her hair trying to forget the cries of pain.

She then took a step closer to him so any listening ears could only hear them if they were trying, ”But if there were going to be ghosts anywhere it would be in Alvada-Taldera, inside the castle. I don’t know if you care…there was a massacre in there of about 20 vantha.” Her tone didn’t give away that she was a sympathizer, instead it was just to let him know. She had seen the faces of those 20 Vantha, scared and frightened beyond understanding. She remembered Madeira’s prayer to Dira, and could only hope that they were with her.
”If not that, then I don’t know. We will just have to go hunting. It can’t be too hard, there are many spiritists in the city for a reason." She said with a lighter tone hoping to uplift the mood a little.

[Maro]

There was anguish in her eyes and in her voice when she mentioned the mass haunting in the underground. This was the first time he had heard of the underground, and it piqued his curiosity. But she was right. That was no place for a mere dabbler in the art of spiritism. Mass hauntings generally had some very strong feelings attached to them, often for very good reasons. They usually came about due to very violent deaths in a group of like-minded people, and there was no telling who had committed the atrocity. Even if one knew what one was doing, the spiritist didn’t have to talk down a single ghost; they had to talk down all of them, at the same time. And the ghosts had a way of bringing any single ghost who was straying toward reason back into a similar state of mind with the rest. That, and Maro wasn’t prepared to deal with an aggressive spirit and definitely not a multitude of them. Maro was curious about the underground and the mass haunting, but with the way Phira had spoken of it, he was even more curious as to whether or not she had experienced the haunting for herself. Now was not the time to ask. Instead, he voiced his agreement. “You’re right. A mass haunting is no place for us. We couldn’t help.” As Phira went on though, she told him of a killing, more of a massacre, that had occurred in the illusory Avanthal. Some Vantha had holed up in a reminder of their homeland and had paid the price for it. Laughing at her jab about spiritists, he accepted her earlier suggestion. “That sounds like a place we might find a ghost and one who we might actually be able to help.” Maro knew his ability to navigate the city were laughable. “I’ll let you lead the way, if you don’t mind. The streets of Alvadas enjoy mocking me, so I never get to where I’m trying to go, not easily anyhow.” As she took the lead, Maro happily turned the conversation to lighter topics. “So you lived a year in Black Rock before you were old enough to leave? That’d make you a Kelvic.” He supposed the short fangs should have been a clue but shrugged it off. “I wonder how much else we have in common. I guess homesickness is another. I miss Black Rock, even though my favorite part of it came with me.” He made a quick gesture to Autumn who smiled at the compliment. “I still miss everything else about it, even though I couldn’t say which parts of it were my favorite. I loved the way the waves crashed against Black Rock’s ungiving shores. Even the Omens, constantly watching everything, were more of a comfort than an oddity. I suppose my favorite part though was that the living and the dead were at peace, that ghosts weren’t something to fear, that Black Rock was as much a beacon to them as it was to us.”

[Phira]

28 Winter 516

She nodded and began towards a place she was trying to avoid. She had been in that castle, and had seen the poor souls of those that vanished. The image of the boy with cherry red eyes came roaring to the front of her mind. She didn’t want to see him as a ghost, and she hoped he took her advice that day to accept Dira’s gift. ”I don’t know how much faster we can get there with me in the lead. Alvadas loves to test my patience. I can’t say that I’ve gotten anywhere in an acceptable amount of time.” she laughed pushing down the image of that boy.

She nodded and gave a short chuckle, ”I am. Underneath this human exterior I am a leopard. And I do miss it, but I left for a reason. I felt like there was a bigger purpose for me here on the main land. I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s not on Black Rock.” Her tone was light and she looked over at him and his ghost friend, ”So you are a kelvic as well? And your friend, is she your bondmate?” It would be a first to see a Kelvic bonded to a ghost, but it wouldn’t be impossible would it? If they were bonded before she died, and then she came back as a ghost would they still be bonded? She didn’t see why they wouldn’t be. It was a very interesting subject. At any rate they seemed happy with each other, and that was always good to see a happy ghost.

She listened with a smile at all the things he loved about their home. ”I guess my favorite part of it was the ocean. It was beautiful watching Syna rise above the horizon and see Leth and Zintilla’s stars reflected against the water. But you sound like you really love it there. If you don’t mind me asking why did you leave?” The question was not meant to offend or cause any uncomfortable tension between them. But the way he talked about it and the look in his eyes were enough to tell her that he was very fond of that place.

It was only a few chimes later that they stepped across the threshold into the winter wonderland. It was beautiful but the white snow might as well be stained red with blood with the way this season is turning out. Her clothes changed into the same winter clothes as before, with everything being trimmed with black fur, and they had become considerably thicker. ”Now look out for a big huge ice castle. I don’t think you can miss it, but that is where it all happened.” she said and then turned to him with a cold look in her eye and came close so he could hear her whispered words. ”And don’t think people haven’t noticed us. I don’t think even helping the ghost of a vantha will be looked upon as anything but traitorous. I haven’t seen these hunters yet, so they could be anyone. And from what I have heard about them they will have no problem catching us. All of us.” she said hinting that the possibility of them catching Autumn was as real as any other possibility. She then turned and began walking further into the snowy city within the city.