Jomi loomed with barely concealable contempt over Madeira’s large four post bed on the top floor of the Infinity house where she was tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs. The house had gently opened the windows and drew back the curtains as the sun rose, filling the room with crisp winter air and a soft early morning light. It watched the ghost with what felt like a pout as Jomi stood over its creator, it waved the north facing window curtains in an attempt to draw the ghost to look out and appreciate its new flower garden it had created the night before. Jomi pushed patience out through the psychic link that tied him to the house, which the house answered with more aggressive curtain flapping. But as of that moment the ghost had a more pressing concerns to deal with.
It was a daily ritual that first thing Madeira did when she got up in the morning was to make soul mist for Emma and Jomi but today it was taking longer than usual for her to wake. When the ghost finally went to investigate her tardiness he found her wrapped in her sea of quilts. So quiet, so peaceful.
So vulnerable.
Jomi quietly phased out of her bedroom door and hovered over the winding metal staircase on the other side as he regarded the door handle. Luckily the layout of the house had very little doors, since the shiny brass knobs the opened the the bedrooms and bath on the second floor were something he had trouble with. The ghosts fine motor skill were close to non-existent with caused an endless amount of problems and required extreme concentration in order to rotate the slick surfaces around fully.
A ribbon of pearly white mist stretched out from his midsection and wrapped itself around the doorknob. The ghost pulled up the latent energy from his soul core to activate the thin tendril and after a a few slips trying to get the right amount of pressure the mist finally caught and slowly the knob turned. Once the door had cracked open Jomi brought back both of of his arms until his hands were parallel to his shoulders with palms flat and facing out. He concentrated on bringing the mist swirling around his body back to his core, slowly and methodically his body gained more substance and the edges of his body solidified. And using all the force he could muster threw his open materialized palms at the door which hit the wall with a resounding crack sending dust bunnies and flakes of peeling wallpaper raining from the ceiling.
The ghost spoke with a heavy and proper accent, raising his voice to a near shout that cut through the still room like a fart through a fancy dinner party.
”It was so nice of you to come all this way Madara. Lets go see what my Mistress is up to, she'll be so thrilled to see you.”
It was a daily ritual that first thing Madeira did when she got up in the morning was to make soul mist for Emma and Jomi but today it was taking longer than usual for her to wake. When the ghost finally went to investigate her tardiness he found her wrapped in her sea of quilts. So quiet, so peaceful.
So vulnerable.
Jomi quietly phased out of her bedroom door and hovered over the winding metal staircase on the other side as he regarded the door handle. Luckily the layout of the house had very little doors, since the shiny brass knobs the opened the the bedrooms and bath on the second floor were something he had trouble with. The ghosts fine motor skill were close to non-existent with caused an endless amount of problems and required extreme concentration in order to rotate the slick surfaces around fully.
A ribbon of pearly white mist stretched out from his midsection and wrapped itself around the doorknob. The ghost pulled up the latent energy from his soul core to activate the thin tendril and after a a few slips trying to get the right amount of pressure the mist finally caught and slowly the knob turned. Once the door had cracked open Jomi brought back both of of his arms until his hands were parallel to his shoulders with palms flat and facing out. He concentrated on bringing the mist swirling around his body back to his core, slowly and methodically his body gained more substance and the edges of his body solidified. And using all the force he could muster threw his open materialized palms at the door which hit the wall with a resounding crack sending dust bunnies and flakes of peeling wallpaper raining from the ceiling.
The ghost spoke with a heavy and proper accent, raising his voice to a near shout that cut through the still room like a fart through a fancy dinner party.
”It was so nice of you to come all this way Madara. Lets go see what my Mistress is up to, she'll be so thrilled to see you.”
