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rainbowfic2012-10-02 07:28 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2012-10-02 07:28 pm
Entry tags:
Lawn Green 8, Bone Black 13, Zing 1
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Paole Part I (Part II)
Colors: Lawn Green 8. sunny skies Bone Black 13. Tomb/Catacomb Zing 1. oh snap
Word Count: 1800
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary/Notes: Mitchell investigates a haunting in a graveyard. This is much further along in the narrative than anything else I've posted.
Hidden at the end of a winding dirt road and enclosed by stone walls on three sides and a forest on the fourth, Caras Cemetery was most definitely not open to the public. Mitchell had called ahead. The groundskeeper, Xenia Gavril, hadn't sounded happy about it, but she agreed that there was something strange about the Paole tomb, and he was welcome to take a look.
Len fiddled in the passenger's sear, opening and closing the tube of sunscreen she had already slathered on every inch of exposed skin. "I should have worn my hoodie. I'm going to have a wicked burn before this is over."
Mitchell snorted. "It's cloudy. You smell like a tanning salon. You're fine."
Len scowled. "Oh, sure, I'm fine. When you get a sun burn you rub some aloe on and it's nothing. I get a burn and I can't leave the house for a week."
"Look, man, bringing you to a cemetery is pushing it as it is. A dhampir in a hoodie at 23 degrees? That's just asking for trouble." Mitchell slowed the car, peering ahead. "I think that's the gate." A tall, brunette woman leaned up against it, lifting her chin when she caught his eye.
"I'm under the twelve percent threshhold and have papers to prove it. You're just being paranoid. Stupid sun." Len opened the door just as Mitchell parked, glaring upwards. "My worst enemy."
"Don't do that," Mitchell sighed.
The woman gave Len a hard look. "Which of you is the exorcist?"
"Seer," Mitchell said, extending his hand. "Mitchell Pathing. I assume you're Ms. Gavril?"
"Indeed." Her grip was steel. "And the assistant you failed to mention?"
"Len Abendroth. She brought the issue to my attention in the first place."
Gavril pursed her lips. "Did she, now."
Len shrugged. "It's an old family problem."
Gavril raised her eyebrows. Len sighed and yanked a bulging plastic envelope out of her pocket. Gavril's gaze flicked back and forth between them as she looked over the paperwork.
Len threw Mitchell a look that said 'can you believe these mundanes' or possibly 'I told you so' or maybe even 'I could have worn my hoodie you paranoid loser'. Probably all three.
Handing the envelope back she said, "I hope you're wearing good shoes, it's a bit of a hike to the tomb."
Behind the gate, countless rows of gray tombstones stretched into the distance, interrupted by a scattering of trees and the occasional statue.
"It's a bit sad," Gavril said. "No one visits these old souls anymore, aside from myself and my staff. More than half of the names are gone." She pointed as she said, "Paole is all the way back there. You can only just see it. Shall we?"
Len stuck close to Mitchell, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Great. I think you like making me suffer."
Mitchell rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to cast a sunblock charm on you? Will it make you stop whining about the big bright ball of gas that sits in the sky half of the day every day out of every year ever?"
Len glared. "The last time you did that you nearly blew me up. I. Had. No. Eyebrows."
Mitchell shrugged. "Seer, not enchanter."
Gavril glanced back at them but said nothing. If Mitchell were here with Cagri one of them would start on about how the kernen used to eat people, or how adept Mitchell was at turning mundanes into frogs -- which was not at all, but they didn't need to know that. Len, being the only dhampir in the city -- or at least the only one not in hiding -- kept her mouth shut.
Mitchell was content to walk in silence, but the more information he gathered on the way the less time he would have to spend with Gavril. "You said you weren't surprised the tomb was haunted."
"Not particularly. There are old rumors, of course, there always are about this sort of place, and certain members of my team are, shall we say, overly sensitive to loud noises in otherwise quiet places, but there are signs. I ignored them, I'm afraid. One doesn't expect to find a haunting in a cemetery. This is where the dead come to rest, not flit about and cause trouble."
How about that -- a non-Seer who spit out facts instead of rumor. "Yeah, you don't usually find a ghost haunting itself."
Gavril smirked back at him. "I imagine not."
"Has anyone seen it?"
"Not that I'm aware of. One of my workers claims to have seen glimpses, like a sort of mist, but no one else has been ale to confirm a sighting. I can confirm the hissing."
Mitchell tripped over a loose rock, muttering a curse. "Hissing?"
"Mm, yes. Much like a cat, but not quite. I'm unsure how to explain. On several occasions I have smelled what I believe to be blood, but of course the entombed are long dead. No fresh blood spilled for ages."
Mitchell glanced at Len. "Blood."
"Yes, indeed. I've also had reports of footsteps, and a sort of chanting, but I cannot personally confirm either."
It wasn't unusual for a haunting to cause strange smells -- usually the cologne or perfume the person had worn in life, and on one occasion the dinner the person had been cooking when they died -- but he'd never heard of one that smelled of blood. The rest he could explain -- okay, not the hissing, but weird people died too -- but the blood-smell made him nervous.
They had barely reached the tomb when the temperature dropped. It was possible that the ghost's reach was strengthened by the thousands of dead, but that was more theory than fact. Len shuddered; Mitchell wondered how sensitive she was to the dead, or if it was just from the cold.
"It's always been a bit chilly here," Gavril said. The stone tomb lay in front of them, PAOLE carved above the doorway. If Mitchell squinted, he could see a black mist rising from the ground around it. No bushes or flowers grew nearby; even the grass was yellow and wilted, cracking under his feet. Bits of crumbled stone had fallen around the tomb.
"It looks like it's falling apart. Do your workers stay away from the place?" It was understandable; he was pretty creeped out, and he was used to hauntings.
"Oh." Gavril looked confused. "I... suppose I hadn't noticed. I'll get someone to take care of it."
Mitchell furrowed his brow. Every gravestone and marker had been, if no longer legible, clean and polished.
"I don't suppose you'll be needing assistance?" Gavril folded her arms. "Or do the dead dislike the presence of regular old humans?"
Frowning, Mitchell said, "That's all right, I have it covered. Where will you be? I'll let you know when it's done."
She scowled. "We passed the office. It's near the front gate. I'm sure you can find it." And she stomped off.
"That... was weird. She was nice like three seconds ago." Len wrapped her arms around herself. "Are these things always freezing? I think my nipples are going to fall off."
Mitchell shook his head slowly. "There's something... wrong with this whole thing. Len, I think you left out a few details."
She glanced at her feet. "I said it was an old family problem. I thought it was kind of an obvious euphemism." She shrugged. "Definitely dead, staked and everything. But, you know, all misty and walking around."
Mitchell scrubbed his face. "Damnit, Len."
"What? Did I really have to say 'one of my vampire ancestors is haunting his tomb' because I really don't like saying the v-word and I thought you were smart enough to figure it out, okay?"
Mitchell glared at the tomb. "Vampires don't leave ghosts behind, Len. They're pretty much already dead. If there really is one stuck here, then someone trapped it here for a specific purpose. Dealing with an angry, bloodthirsty, self-aware, anchored vampire ghost is a little bit different than dealing with a human ghost that might not even understand it's dead." He took another breath, let it out. "I might not be able to do this, Len."
Len muttered, "Oh," and dug her toe into the dirt. "I thought it would just be a routine... you know. Haunting. Banishment. Wave your sparkly fingers and make it go away."
Mitchell failed to suppress his grin. "My sparkly fingers?"
Len rolled her eyes. "Don't make me tell your boyfriend you're flirting with me."
"Please. Even at one-eighth you're not pointy enough for me."
"Oh. Snap," Len deadpanned. "You sure got me there."
Mitchell frowned at the tomb, rubbing his arms. He'd soloed eighty-three hauntings in the past seven years, and several dozen as his mother's apprentice, and never had one felt so... wrong. Not just dead but broken.
"Mitch? I really don't like the look on your face right now." Len bit her lip. "Is it really that bad?"
"I don't know how to describe it," Mitchell murmured. "It's as if... listen, every religion and spiritual philosophy on the planet has an after-life, right?"
Len crossed her arms. "Uh, most, sure. So?"
"So there's a reason for that. There is one." He put up his hand. "I don't mean there's definitely an Avalon or Heaven or whatever. I mean the dead go somewhere. They don't jut dissipate into the ether. There's another..." He shrugged. "Another place. A somewhere else. You can see it -- well, I can see it, sometimes, when they move on or when I have to banish them. I don't know if it's a bad place or a good place or even really a place as we'd understand it, but I do know that place and this place aren't meant to interact. The living aren't meant to go there and the dead aren't meant to stay here. When they do things... happen."
Len moved closer to Mitchell. "Things?"
"Yeah. If the dead don't move on, that other place and our reality sort of... meld. I've never seen it before, but this..." he let out a breath. "I think this is a deadspot."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I need help." He made a face. There were only two Seers in Krixos he was in regular contact with, and Nieve was busy with her apprentice. He didn't want to bring a thirteen year old into this.
Which left Broker.
"It's a good thing you're the best computer repairwoman I know."
"I'm the best computer tech there is." Len grinned. "Why, do you have to do some special voodoo or something?"
He twisted his mouth. "No, I have to call Broker."
Her face lit up. "Are we going to be on his show?"
Broker and his bastard show.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Paole Part I (Part II)
Colors: Lawn Green 8. sunny skies Bone Black 13. Tomb/Catacomb Zing 1. oh snap
Word Count: 1800
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary/Notes: Mitchell investigates a haunting in a graveyard. This is much further along in the narrative than anything else I've posted.
Hidden at the end of a winding dirt road and enclosed by stone walls on three sides and a forest on the fourth, Caras Cemetery was most definitely not open to the public. Mitchell had called ahead. The groundskeeper, Xenia Gavril, hadn't sounded happy about it, but she agreed that there was something strange about the Paole tomb, and he was welcome to take a look.
Len fiddled in the passenger's sear, opening and closing the tube of sunscreen she had already slathered on every inch of exposed skin. "I should have worn my hoodie. I'm going to have a wicked burn before this is over."
Mitchell snorted. "It's cloudy. You smell like a tanning salon. You're fine."
Len scowled. "Oh, sure, I'm fine. When you get a sun burn you rub some aloe on and it's nothing. I get a burn and I can't leave the house for a week."
"Look, man, bringing you to a cemetery is pushing it as it is. A dhampir in a hoodie at 23 degrees? That's just asking for trouble." Mitchell slowed the car, peering ahead. "I think that's the gate." A tall, brunette woman leaned up against it, lifting her chin when she caught his eye.
"I'm under the twelve percent threshhold and have papers to prove it. You're just being paranoid. Stupid sun." Len opened the door just as Mitchell parked, glaring upwards. "My worst enemy."
"Don't do that," Mitchell sighed.
The woman gave Len a hard look. "Which of you is the exorcist?"
"Seer," Mitchell said, extending his hand. "Mitchell Pathing. I assume you're Ms. Gavril?"
"Indeed." Her grip was steel. "And the assistant you failed to mention?"
"Len Abendroth. She brought the issue to my attention in the first place."
Gavril pursed her lips. "Did she, now."
Len shrugged. "It's an old family problem."
Gavril raised her eyebrows. Len sighed and yanked a bulging plastic envelope out of her pocket. Gavril's gaze flicked back and forth between them as she looked over the paperwork.
Len threw Mitchell a look that said 'can you believe these mundanes' or possibly 'I told you so' or maybe even 'I could have worn my hoodie you paranoid loser'. Probably all three.
Handing the envelope back she said, "I hope you're wearing good shoes, it's a bit of a hike to the tomb."
Behind the gate, countless rows of gray tombstones stretched into the distance, interrupted by a scattering of trees and the occasional statue.
"It's a bit sad," Gavril said. "No one visits these old souls anymore, aside from myself and my staff. More than half of the names are gone." She pointed as she said, "Paole is all the way back there. You can only just see it. Shall we?"
Len stuck close to Mitchell, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Great. I think you like making me suffer."
Mitchell rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to cast a sunblock charm on you? Will it make you stop whining about the big bright ball of gas that sits in the sky half of the day every day out of every year ever?"
Len glared. "The last time you did that you nearly blew me up. I. Had. No. Eyebrows."
Mitchell shrugged. "Seer, not enchanter."
Gavril glanced back at them but said nothing. If Mitchell were here with Cagri one of them would start on about how the kernen used to eat people, or how adept Mitchell was at turning mundanes into frogs -- which was not at all, but they didn't need to know that. Len, being the only dhampir in the city -- or at least the only one not in hiding -- kept her mouth shut.
Mitchell was content to walk in silence, but the more information he gathered on the way the less time he would have to spend with Gavril. "You said you weren't surprised the tomb was haunted."
"Not particularly. There are old rumors, of course, there always are about this sort of place, and certain members of my team are, shall we say, overly sensitive to loud noises in otherwise quiet places, but there are signs. I ignored them, I'm afraid. One doesn't expect to find a haunting in a cemetery. This is where the dead come to rest, not flit about and cause trouble."
How about that -- a non-Seer who spit out facts instead of rumor. "Yeah, you don't usually find a ghost haunting itself."
Gavril smirked back at him. "I imagine not."
"Has anyone seen it?"
"Not that I'm aware of. One of my workers claims to have seen glimpses, like a sort of mist, but no one else has been ale to confirm a sighting. I can confirm the hissing."
Mitchell tripped over a loose rock, muttering a curse. "Hissing?"
"Mm, yes. Much like a cat, but not quite. I'm unsure how to explain. On several occasions I have smelled what I believe to be blood, but of course the entombed are long dead. No fresh blood spilled for ages."
Mitchell glanced at Len. "Blood."
"Yes, indeed. I've also had reports of footsteps, and a sort of chanting, but I cannot personally confirm either."
It wasn't unusual for a haunting to cause strange smells -- usually the cologne or perfume the person had worn in life, and on one occasion the dinner the person had been cooking when they died -- but he'd never heard of one that smelled of blood. The rest he could explain -- okay, not the hissing, but weird people died too -- but the blood-smell made him nervous.
They had barely reached the tomb when the temperature dropped. It was possible that the ghost's reach was strengthened by the thousands of dead, but that was more theory than fact. Len shuddered; Mitchell wondered how sensitive she was to the dead, or if it was just from the cold.
"It's always been a bit chilly here," Gavril said. The stone tomb lay in front of them, PAOLE carved above the doorway. If Mitchell squinted, he could see a black mist rising from the ground around it. No bushes or flowers grew nearby; even the grass was yellow and wilted, cracking under his feet. Bits of crumbled stone had fallen around the tomb.
"It looks like it's falling apart. Do your workers stay away from the place?" It was understandable; he was pretty creeped out, and he was used to hauntings.
"Oh." Gavril looked confused. "I... suppose I hadn't noticed. I'll get someone to take care of it."
Mitchell furrowed his brow. Every gravestone and marker had been, if no longer legible, clean and polished.
"I don't suppose you'll be needing assistance?" Gavril folded her arms. "Or do the dead dislike the presence of regular old humans?"
Frowning, Mitchell said, "That's all right, I have it covered. Where will you be? I'll let you know when it's done."
She scowled. "We passed the office. It's near the front gate. I'm sure you can find it." And she stomped off.
"That... was weird. She was nice like three seconds ago." Len wrapped her arms around herself. "Are these things always freezing? I think my nipples are going to fall off."
Mitchell shook his head slowly. "There's something... wrong with this whole thing. Len, I think you left out a few details."
She glanced at her feet. "I said it was an old family problem. I thought it was kind of an obvious euphemism." She shrugged. "Definitely dead, staked and everything. But, you know, all misty and walking around."
Mitchell scrubbed his face. "Damnit, Len."
"What? Did I really have to say 'one of my vampire ancestors is haunting his tomb' because I really don't like saying the v-word and I thought you were smart enough to figure it out, okay?"
Mitchell glared at the tomb. "Vampires don't leave ghosts behind, Len. They're pretty much already dead. If there really is one stuck here, then someone trapped it here for a specific purpose. Dealing with an angry, bloodthirsty, self-aware, anchored vampire ghost is a little bit different than dealing with a human ghost that might not even understand it's dead." He took another breath, let it out. "I might not be able to do this, Len."
Len muttered, "Oh," and dug her toe into the dirt. "I thought it would just be a routine... you know. Haunting. Banishment. Wave your sparkly fingers and make it go away."
Mitchell failed to suppress his grin. "My sparkly fingers?"
Len rolled her eyes. "Don't make me tell your boyfriend you're flirting with me."
"Please. Even at one-eighth you're not pointy enough for me."
"Oh. Snap," Len deadpanned. "You sure got me there."
Mitchell frowned at the tomb, rubbing his arms. He'd soloed eighty-three hauntings in the past seven years, and several dozen as his mother's apprentice, and never had one felt so... wrong. Not just dead but broken.
"Mitch? I really don't like the look on your face right now." Len bit her lip. "Is it really that bad?"
"I don't know how to describe it," Mitchell murmured. "It's as if... listen, every religion and spiritual philosophy on the planet has an after-life, right?"
Len crossed her arms. "Uh, most, sure. So?"
"So there's a reason for that. There is one." He put up his hand. "I don't mean there's definitely an Avalon or Heaven or whatever. I mean the dead go somewhere. They don't jut dissipate into the ether. There's another..." He shrugged. "Another place. A somewhere else. You can see it -- well, I can see it, sometimes, when they move on or when I have to banish them. I don't know if it's a bad place or a good place or even really a place as we'd understand it, but I do know that place and this place aren't meant to interact. The living aren't meant to go there and the dead aren't meant to stay here. When they do things... happen."
Len moved closer to Mitchell. "Things?"
"Yeah. If the dead don't move on, that other place and our reality sort of... meld. I've never seen it before, but this..." he let out a breath. "I think this is a deadspot."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I need help." He made a face. There were only two Seers in Krixos he was in regular contact with, and Nieve was busy with her apprentice. He didn't want to bring a thirteen year old into this.
Which left Broker.
"It's a good thing you're the best computer repairwoman I know."
"I'm the best computer tech there is." Len grinned. "Why, do you have to do some special voodoo or something?"
He twisted his mouth. "No, I have to call Broker."
Her face lit up. "Are we going to be on his show?"
Broker and his bastard show.
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I'm not even particularly familiar with these characters and that line made me cackle with glee. Well done.
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Thank you!
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Also, Len is a great character! I like her already.
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Thank you!
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Thanks!
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There's a really nice balance between action, dialogue, and exposition here. Mitchell picking up on the wrongness of the situation and realizing what the problem at hand is flowed very naturally, so the reader wasn't too far behind or ahead of him.
That last line had me rubbing my hands in glee. I'm guessing these two will get along like a house on fire: lots of screaming, and you're lucky if anyone makes it out alive?
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Mitchell and Broker get along best when they're on opposite sides of the city and forget who the other person is. So essentially... yes. :D
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Thank you!
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