The art of betrayal.

by **Jomi** on October 8th, 2018, 6:11 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

"Roth-sam." The silver hair woman repeated, her voice was strong and she projected it well. She had to since she insisted on standing no less than four meters away from the person she was speaking to. She jabbed her withered finger at the ink circle she had drawn on a map of Satru Peak that she held out at arms length.

"Roooooth-saaaam."

Jomi seethed as he struggled to keep his shape and pull his erratic mists closer to his core. Spirals of the fine, fluid like mists twisted about his form, shifting his features and betraying his lack of emotional finesse. With great effort he wrangled his mists back to create a semi solid boarder around his body, bringing more colour and definition to his materialization. He had come to the Cosmos centre covertly in search of a Spiritist, someone with which he could make a bargain with should his relationship with Madeira turn sour. However, Jomi was use to dealing with Madeira and Allister, people who understood his sentience, stability and ability to converse like any other race. Which made this reminder of how the world typically sees his kind all the more infuriating.

"Speak! For the love of all that is good in this world speak to me you incompetent old hag!"

The ghosts carfefuly constructed body dissolved, no longer being able to concentrate on maintaining it in his volatile emotional state. A thick rope of the mists broke off, activated by the turmoil that rolled through the ghosts form, and swept over the nearest desk.
Papers scattered as the ghost hurled a small, intricate crystal bell at the far wall. The crystal struck the wall with a hard resounding
crack

The frightened old woman gave a small cry as she crouched and threw protective arms over her head. Tears welled in the valleys of folded skin beside her eyes as the hard, purposeful tap of leather boots rounded the corner from the back room of the Center.

Youchi Dawn-Sakana, owner of the Cosmos Center, took in the situation with hard, narrowed eyes as Jomi's tantrum fizzled out, having finally allowed himself an outlet for his frustration. He made no effort to re-materialize himself as the proprietor helped her secretary to her feet and ushered her out of the room, all while maintaining a cold burning eye contact with the ghost.

"What do I have to do to get rid of you, spirit."Youchi's words were hard and impatient as she stood back at a safe distance.

Jomi took a moment to answer, carefully choosing his words.

"I'm looking for a spriritist or spiritism shop and directions on how to find them."

"There's a spiritism profess-"

"Not that one."

"You'd be looking for Rothsam then."

Youchi exhaled heavily through her nose as she picked up a ruined parchment from the ground, big blotches of black ink bloomed over its surface where the inkwell had been thrown onto it. Taking a discarded charcoal stick she scribbled out a simple paths and landmarks on the untainted corner. Explaining them to the ghost as he leaned over her shoulder, studying the lines and squiggles intently.

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on October 8th, 2018, 6:12 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

The wooden door of the Sartu Peak appartment door was carved with strange shapes and lines that rippled across the surface in a way that felt deliberate, like the reapeating shapes and lines that covered the pages of Madeira's books. Jomi narrowed his eyes as he walked through the description that Youchi had given him. The Den of Lost Souls' she had called it. The ink soaked paper fluttered in the ghosts hands as he looked over the clumsy lines. His thin activated shroud balanced the paper precariously, two thin tendrils pressed down on either side, using pressure to keep the paper in place since he had no fingerprints or textured skin to hold it.

Satisfied that he'd found the right place Jomi worked to put himself together the best he could. His mist packed down and twisted until they conformed to the proper human shape, colour rose from the concentrated mist and definition was etched into his face. Jomi looked down at himself with pride, his newly created lips stretched into a crooked half-smile. He was getting better at controlling his materialization, he almost looked like a real person.

A sudden heavy thump from within the apartment rattled the door startled the ghosts already frayed nerves. His visage flickered as
the ghost began to have second thoughts.

He was afraid of spiritists. It was a deep visceral fear born of true danger, he knew what they could do, and how little effort was needed to remove his soul from the cycle of death and rebirth. Madeira's face flashed in his mind, his mistress and spiritist, the first person to take him seriously, she had been looking for his bonded with him in the slum of Alvadas and the ports of Riverfall. He had relied on her and her protection and companionship for years. Now that reliance was what drove him to the door of a rival spiritist.

Madeira was becoming more powerful by the day, she had infiltrated the Dusk tower and was working on spreading her influence to their new home. There was no way for the weaker, subservient ghost to stand up to her should she turn on him, no one to turn to if she decided her chaotic ghost was a hinderance for her goals. He needed allies.

'Is this betrayal?'

The thought stung as Jomi faded through the wall of the apartment, he was going behind the back and conspiring against the most important person in the dead Kelvics new unlife.

'It dosent matter.' the ghost told himself as he steeled his nerves, stepping into the cluttered mess of the large dimly lit room. 'Edith
is the only one that matters.'

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on October 8th, 2018, 6:17 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

Jomi was taken aback by how stereotypical the room was. Everything that jumped to the forefront of the average persons mind when someone mentions 'spiritism' what throw about, almost haphazerly, in the room. Animal bones, raven feathers, iron nail, vials of blood and at least one human skull spilled off the tables and shelves, all illuminated by sporadically placed candles that cast a sickly yellow glow over the entire room.

Jomi crept through the unsettling decor with a rather bemused interest, momentarily forgetting what he came there for. Instead of tracking down the Spiritist that was holed up somewhere in the apartment, the ghost found himself poking around the assorted unsettling items. He approached a small table that was placed in a spot of prominence in the back of the room near the center of the wall. It was draped in bright red cloth with a clay bowl placed in the centre framed by an unnecessary amout of long bone hilt daggers, each carved with scars of battle. One of the blades wickedly curved edges gleamed in the candle light, it's hilt depicting a woman astride a tiger easily twice the size of Raj, holding a spear. The tigers jaws were locked around the what looked like the thick scaled end of a snake while the womans spear was thrust above its head at something behind the curve of the hilt. Images of the snake woman, Sanya, that had lived with Allister and Madeira in Riverfall flashed through Jomi's mind as he drew energy up from his core. Using his will and concentration he drew out and activated a strand of mist that floated towards the hilt, eager to see what was being hidden on the other side.

Only to be pushed up against an invisible barrier.

"Oh come on!"

Redirecting his mists, the peeved ghost snached a candle off a neaby shelf and brought it down to the floor. Sure enough, thirteen obsidian black
nail heads gleaming with traces of soulmist dotted the floor, circling the small end table entirely.

"You must be new to this life, to be caught off guard by such a novice trick."

A sudden creak of hinges announced the arrival of a dark figure. Rothsam climbed up from the cellar shirtless and covered in the same strange marking that were on the door. Even in the low light Jomi could make out the long ropes of muscles and hard calluses that covered his body, all coated with a liberal amount of bone dust.

Jomi's mist vibrated in embarrassment as he looked over the Myrian. Unsure of what to say the ghost instead used his focus to fold his shroud inwards, packing his straying mists together and giving his body greater definition.

"I assume you're here for soulmist?"Rothsam chuckled to himself, finding amusement in the ghosts unease. "I'll make you some, for 10 kina."

"Does it look like I have pockets, shykehead." Jomi deadpanned.

"Found your tongue have you?" Now the spiritist truly laughed, his deep baraton voice echoed in the closed space. "In that case, there are other ways you can pay."

"I'm not here for mist."

Rothsam closed the distance rapidly, long easy strids ate the space between them until the pair were uncomfortably close, forcing Jomi to drift back.

"A favour then?"

"A trade."

At that the spiritists eybrows drifted towards his hairline, more amused than intrigued.

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on October 8th, 2018, 6:25 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

Jomi brought his mists in close in an effort to still the vibrations that still wracked his form. His mists wound through him until they were taught and dense, giving him a semblance of solidity.

But no matter what he did the shivers and flickering of his mist continued, not out of fear anymore, but guilt. He stood in front of a stranger, a spiritist, about to sell out the only one who gave a shyke about him anymore, and the pain it caused him was almost physical.

"What can you offer me that one of the dozens of freelance spirits in this city can't."

"Information and access to Madeira Craven, the new Spiritism professor at the dusk tower. She's the strongest spiritist I've ever seen, even more so than the Matriarch of the Craven line she was born from. She's officially here as a part of an information trade between the Dusk and Craven's but she's outgrown them and is plotting to insert herself into the politics that govern this city." Jomi's voice dropped to a consperitaly whisper, as if the woman was set to appear out of the walls at the mention of her name "Having another spiritist in the city would inconvenience her, I have no doubt in my mind that she'll come after you eventually."

Rothsam's dark lips drew back into a thin line as he furled his brows suspiciously.

"And who are you exactly?"

"Jomi. I've been serving her for the last two springs, she trusts me with her life."

"So what made you change your mind then. Why deal with another spiritist?"

"Networking, I have to keep my options open." Jomi lied smoothly. It wouldn't do to have the Myrian know of his disadvantage, and how much he needs him as an ally.

Rothsam pulled a chair from the centre table and sat down heavily in it. Bringing his hands up to his face he rubbed at his temples hard, as if the pressure would dislodge some of the disbelief.

"So what did you want in return for this?"

"I hear whispers of you from the other spirits, they say you are a mage. I want you to teach me your magic."

"No."Rothsam jumped to his feet at a speed of someone half his size and marched back to his carving table. "I ain't teaching Flux to a ghost. You can petch right off with that."

Jomi vanished, blinking himself in the Myrians way, his eyes were cold and piercing as he spat out his words. "She's a hypnotist, she's used her magic on her students and employers. She taught it to herself, and she gets more adept every day. You are petched without me"

Rothsam paused for a tick mid-stride in front of the ghost, his muscles bunched and rolled with his movements as he brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. His lips curled up as he struggled within himself, the information the ghost could provide about a potential rival was invaluable, but it would mean crossing over a very clear boundary he had created for himself. Only fools would teach a ghost how to use magic.

"Alright then you listen here." The Myrian stepped forward once more, invading the ghosts space, this time Jomi didn't move. "At the twelfth bell every fortnight you come to me, then you tell me everything I want to know and nothing less and I'll teach you Flux. You don't show up, or I find out you're lying, the deal is off. Understand?"

"Yes."

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on October 8th, 2018, 6:29 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

The pair stared each other down for a long, uncomfortable chime. Staring into each others eyes as is they could suss out the thoughts and motivations that lay behind them. Finally relenting, Rothsam let out a great heaving breath and stepped through the ghost, waving him over as he approached a large, stuffed to overflowing, burlap sack hanging by ghostnails on the wall.

"Flux is the manipulation of the astral body to push the physical beyond its limitations. You no longer have an astral body, but you can manipulate one." With a flick of his wrist, the spiritist invited the ghost into his body. Jomi blinked forward, meeting no resistance as he enveloped the dark man's muscles and bones. Rothsam's soul moved aside to allow Jomi to take up space beside him, it being very used to the presence of foreign souls.

"Feel the muscles in my left arm, feel how they move, notice the fibres of the muscles and the tissue that connects them. Now feel my soul, and how it connects to it." The graceful possession flooded the ghost with sensation as the Spiritist flexed his fingers. "focus on that, the connection. Dig deep into my soul and find where it comes from."

"That is dijed, the source of all power in a living soul. Drag it forward, build it up, let it seep into the muscles and sinew and exceed the limits of the body. Direct the power where you need it most, and strike."

Rothsam and Jomi moved as one, their graceful possession fluid and unhindered as the ghost soaked up the knowledge his teacher offered. Jomi stilled his mind and focused, much in the same way he'd activate his mist in order to interact with physical objects. He reached into his core in order to draw on the Myrians dijed, directing it outward and letting it pool in his arm. The tension and stored energy within the muscle fibres peaked, releasing with punishing force as the fist hurled towards the bag. Stuffing spilled from the overstuffed bag as it burst open, the pop of the thick fibrous stitching tearing was loud and grating as the fist connected.

The Myrians head was filled with the screams of the overtaxed ghost, the pain radiated outward from Jomi's core like the bite of a souldart. The graceful connection severed as the ghost, exhausted and crippled with pain, released the possession and faded away. The shock and strain of manipulating living dijed was past the limit for the inexperienced ghost, leaving him without the ability to even be seen.

Rothsam pulled back and flexed the spasms out of his arm, stretching it over his head as he laughed at the empty room.

"I'll be seeing you again, Jomi!"

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya