and on this casket's back sits a little lonely ghost [open to multiple]

[deadeyedchild]

He can feel Tim leaving him, waking up, and he tries to follow. He doesn't know how. This is all new territory, following someone from one plane of existence to another. He tries to visualize himself holding onto Tim's hand. It's embarrassing but it works.

He thinks it works.

He feels different.

The world feels familiar - not the empty void he'd been inhabiting, but the world, solid and real, tangible. He's here. He's back.

He still feels like he's looking at it through glass, though. He looks down at his hands, which are - sort of there, at least, he knows they're there. He can almost see them. Except not quite.

"Oh come on," he mutters, and no sound comes out. He knows he's spoken but he can't quite hear it. He tries to lay a hand on his own arm and he feels a buzz of static as his fingers pass through himself. Oh, god.

He's a fucking ghost.

This is not quite what he had in mind. He knows it's not what Tim had in mind.

It's better than nothing.

He takes a moment to try and figure out where he is. He finds that he can move, not exactly by walking, but sort of drifting along the ground. He accidentally passes through someone, who shivers violently and looks thoroughly spooked for a few seconds. He is unable to get anyone's attention, or interact with anything.

He has to get to Tim somehow, but he can't really take a train, can he? He's not even sure what part of the city he's in.

So he rambles. After a while he finds it's easier to just move through walls than to try to go about things the normal way. Shortly after that revelation he starts picking up the very bizarre skill of moving up through a building, in and out of offices and apartments.

Travel is easy, but communication is nearly impossible.

He searches, having nothing else he can do, for someone he knows.


[[Jay is wandering all over kingdom come today so if you want your character to have a weird ghost encounter, pick a location and we'll see what happens. It's going to be super hard to notice him if you don't have any kind of telepathic/other helpful powers, but that's okay, we can do short shenanigan threads if you're into that. A quick little ghost encounter! Hey, maybe Jay can overhear some awkward dialogue or embarrassing secrets. Maybe he'll accidentally figure out how to knock something off a counter and then go nuts trying to do it again. The sky is the limit. Have fun!]]

UPDATE: as often happens with this kind of thing we have Jay on a pretty tight schedule now. The Balladeer meets him around lunchtime, and then the line of Rush/Iman - Daniel - Greta gets set into motion sometime after. Greta will be taking Jay back to his building in the late afternoon. If you want to meet him when he's out and about it'll now have to be prior to lunch or snuck in between lunch and his adventure through the former ROMAC apartments. There is still plenty of room in there for nonsense, it just won't be able to lead to Jay actually getting home. SHENANIGANS!

Comments

[singthesong]

In one of the tunnels of Central Park, there's a vaguely familiar guy sitting and chatting with an older and less familiar man. The waking world seems much less stressful for him; there's a couple of instrument cases by their feet, and they appear to be enjoying falafels.

As Jay approaches, the Balladeer suddenly stops talking and turns - not looking exactly at Jay, but scanning the path in his general drection, brow furrowed.

[deadeyedchild]

In some ways the park is more difficult to navigate than buildings. Buildings seem structured for the way he moves, like he can reverberate himself off the walls. The park is open, largely flat. There's no momentum. Maybe that's why you never heard of a haunted park.

He's fussing his way down a path when suddenly, weirdly, he's intensely aware of somewhat looking at him. It takes him a moment to look back.

That guy. THAT GUY.

He has no idea what his name is, and he's - well, Jay's pretty sure it's the same guy. The one from the dream where Tim was all wrong. He knew what was going on in his head, somehow. And he knew Johnny. And Johnny knows Tim.

"Hey!" he struggles to say, still generating no sound. He tries to wave his arms and it feels like nothing. Movement isn't going to help him here. "Can you see me?" Neither is talking. Give him a break, he's frustrated here.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer doesn't react to anything Jay does. He just glances from one side of the path to the other again, frowning. Is that...that isn't Daniel. Daniel's song is many things since his ascension, but "creepy" is not one of them.

"You okay?"

The voice makes him start, and he turns back to his companion, who's watching him with concern. "Uh, yeah." Nodding slowly, he darts another quick glance over in Jay's direction, seeing only trees and open sky. "I'm fine, sorry." Could it be Bee's friend? He's supposed to be trapped in dreams, though, isn't he? It could be unrelated. It's hard to tell when he's only heard Jay through the fog of unconsciousness, but there's definitely something going on over there.

[deadeyedchild]

Nooo no no. Shit, Jay has to do something. This guy is picking up on something, but it's not enough.

He floats himself closer and attempts to sit beside them but that doesn't work too well. He can't really sit on things. He flails vaguely and feels another faint buzz of static as his arm pass right through the guy's chest. Oh. Uh.

That feels horrendously rude. He pulls it back tentatively, watching to see his reaction.

[lottawork]

Rush wakes sore, muscles howling a vociferous chorus on a multitude of themes, all painful, all tired, all succumbing to the unforgiving lure of gravity's force and magnitude, his cheekbone darkened and throbbing and bruised.

He rolls onto his back and opens his eyes and places himself:

He deduces that he fell asleep on his floor, mid-equation, twisted in an unnatural contortion of limbs and musculature.

He feels like shit.

He takes the dog out.

Even the dog seems subdued following the events of the previous day, or days, or however long it has been since their walk was unceremoniously interrupted by the Devil and his irritating method of demanding Asadi's full time and attention. Rush grimaces with distaste. He turns the dog toward the park.

He remembers the Devil interrupting their walk in the park with all the subtlety and care of an incendiary projectile launched from orbit.

He turns the dog away from the park.

It is not uncommon to walk one's dog in other parts of the city. He's certain it's not. Choosing to skirt the park is a personal preference, uninfluenced by any extenuating or interfering circumstances, most assuredly with nothing to do with the completely insignificant encounter the day or days before.

He does not, as he will broadcast quite openly and freely, give a fuck. In any way.

He is going to walk his fucking dog, and return to his apartment with its mercifully dark, equative interior, and the day will be otherwise inconsequential. He is confident of this.

[deadeyedchild]

Unfortunately and as is often the case, the day has other plans.

Jay has no idea who this guy is but at this point it hardly matters. It's already been a long fucking day and he's sick of failing at everything. He staggers his awkward ghosty way toward the man and his dog. Maybe dogs actually can sense ghosts, as various movies have intimated.

This turns out to be not the best thing in the world. The dog is old and fairly chill, but it's big, and when it stops short and starts to growl Jay feels an immediate surge of regret. Even if the dog can't actually attack him this is not an ideal situation.

"No, stop that," he says uselessly. If ghosts could sweat. "Be a good boy."

The dog barks.

[lottawork]

The leash goes taut and so does the rest of the dog, its growl pitched low, its nose quivering with fierce intent. Rush stops and regards the creature with tired exasperation.

"Come," he says wearily. He gives the leash a stiff tug.

The dog begins barking - at apparently no one - and Rush scowls.

"Come," he snaps.

The dog's barking lapses into a protracted snarl.

The situation is altogether too similar to certain other occurrences to be safely, wholly ignored. Rush breaks off to scan the surrounding area. He finds nothing objectionable, save for the cursory disparaging looks from any pedestrians. He disregards them utterly.

He kneels in front of the dog in a swift, fluid maneuver, rubbing behind its ears in what he hopes is a vaguely consoling manner.

"Don' fash yoursel'," he mutters, the words pitched soft.

[deadeyedchild]

He watches this guy, noting his bruised cheek, as he tries to soothe his dog. Maybe this isn't worth it. He doesn't want to follow someone around tormenting their dog.

But at the same time the dog knows he's there. That's more than he's had all day.

"It's okay," he says softly, trying to match the guy's tone.

The dog hushes, it seems a little sulkily, still looking up in Jay's general direction.

[lottawork]

The dog quiets with a restive grumble, regarding what appears to be an empty patch of air with fixed concentration.

Rush tracks the trajectory of its gaze before standing, pivoting smoothly, setting down the leash as he walks directly into the collection of air molecules that are, as far as he can tell, the source of some sort of untold canine-related agitation.

A chill coalesces into the center of his chest cavity, his blood congealing to ice.

Rush steps back, and air density returns to its typical viscosity and temperature.

The dog whines.

Rush extends an arm into the ostensibly empty space with steady trepidation, fingers opening, palm up, as if testing for metaphysical or metaphorical rain.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer tenses as Jay get closer, straightening his shoulders and leaning almost imperceptibly away from the ghost as he tries to settle at his side.

It's not nearly far enough to be out of flailing range. He jerks back against the wall as Jay's arm passes through his body, clutching at his chest with one hand. His friend startles a little as well before placing a hand on his shoulder and peering at his face with concern. "Y'don't really seem okay. You need a doctor or something? I know a clinic..."

"Um." The Balladeer shudders, then works up a smile. "Well, maybe I am coming down with something." That's a common symptom, right, chills? He can't think that he's ever been sick before.

He's not sick now, and he knows it perfectly well. All he can do is shoot a sharp look at the empty air on his left as he rises to his feet. "Sorry, Vince. I think I might just head home for the day." Or maybe he'll just go stand in a corner somewhere and try to tell off this ghost that's...wait, did someone just ghost-tackle him? Honestly.

[deadeyedchild]

Jay stares, fascinated and daring to be a little hopeful, as the man straightens up, looks toward him, and then-

-and then walks deliberately into him holy shit. Jay lets out a metaphysical yelp, a noise fortuitously lost in the ether, and windmills awkwardly back. Nooooo. No. Not cool, dude.

"Fuck," he blurts noiselessly. The man has noted the chill that everyone seems to feel whenever Jay makes his off-brand contact, and now seems to be testing, reaching out toward him. Jay hesitates, staring dubiously at his hand, and then reaches back with his.

Can he take it?

He cannot.

His fingers pass buzzingly through the man's and he yanks his hand back as best he can. Speed is not exactly a trait he possesses anymore. Or if it is he has not learned how to master it.

[deadeyedchild]

Okay, well. That's something. Jay frowns, or thinks about frowning, as the man stands up, making his excuses to the other. Is he going to go somewhere private and try to solve the mystery Jay is clumsily presenting? Or is he really going home?

Even if he does try to solve the mystery, or ask questions or something, Jay's not sure how to answer.

[lottawork]

The reaction is delayed and tentative, incongruous to the all-encompassing riming of the oxygen in his lungs, little more than a fleeting tingle of contact interspersed with the stabbing immediacy of ice once again entering his blood.

Rush snaps his hand back and evaluates the patch of air with open apprehension. Perhaps an entity of some kind. An anomaly, possibly. Properties unique to this particular stretch of space, or manufactured by some incorporeal organism, something with little means of communication other than a brief, arctic touch.

Ice, and all of its distillate potential, gray, unyielding serac spilling to pierce the sky.

He torques the scope of his thoughts to something less liable to incite a compensatory biological reaction over which he will have little control. He stoops to retrieve the leash and turns the dog around with a gentle tug, taking an unerring route to the building formerly owned by ROMAC.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer says his goodbyes, not making a huge rush. Whatever's going on here, it's annoying that it had to intrude on his lunch like that.

Still, if something's going to happen, it's going to happen to him when he's alone. These people aren't equipped to deal with the dead. Even he isn't used to dealing with ghosts, if that's what it is, but...well, he can handle it. He'll make do.

He doesn't ask the entity to follow him. He just walks the path home for a while, then veers off sharply into the Ramble, away from the noise of the crowd. Once he's somewhere nearly silent, standing on a rocky hill in the thick of the trees, he stops and turns towards where he can still hear the sound. It's louder now, still not quite a song - there's static. Why is it always static? It sets his hair on end to hear just that alone, and he braces himself, looking half-ready for a confrontation.

"Do you want something?"

[deadeyedchild]

Following people is a pain in the ass, Jay is quickly learning, but he manages, trailing after the guy as close as he can, clinging to the hope that he's being led somewhere. When the man finally stops and turns to his general direction, and speaks to him, he lets out a soft, desperately relieved laugh - before again having to face that issue of now what.

What can he do? He can't answer in the normal way. He casts around for something to work with. He tries to pick up a rock but he can't touch that anymore than he can touch a person.

Well, at least they can kind of feel that. So far that's all he has.

Reluctantly but choosing not to waste anymore time, not wanting to lose this guy's interest, he reaches out and gingerly dips his fingers through his hand.

[deadeyedchild]

Jay feels himself deflate. Was that it? Is that all he's gonna get from this one?

He shuffles after him wearily, wanting at least to see where he'll go. The dog doesn't seem to like that, constantly, glancing back or making soft little huffing noises, so Jay tries to keep a reasonable distance without losing them entirely, a very difficult thing to pull off.

He's almost relieved when the man reaches the building and starts going in. Buildings have been a lot easier to move through. He floats in through the front doors, waits by the elevator bay, and watches the numbers for the man's floor. He's already determined he can't ride an elevator - the box just passes on up and leaves him behind in the shaft. Which is why he can't ride a goddamn train, either.

He counts the floors as he lets himself drift up, and he gets up just in time to see the man having a confrontation of some kind with a woman in the hall. Curious and having nothing else to occupy his attention, he drifts closer.

[lottawork]

It takes him somewhat longer than the average allotment of time to become aware of the secondary presence outside his door, occupied as he is with the recovering of his keys from his pocket with one hand whilst actively coaxing the dog along with the other - all of which requires more effort than he feels is necessary, given the dog's uniformly unsettled air that has pervaded long past the nameless encounter on the street below.

Keys retrieved, dog disquieted, inevitable encounter looming, Rush fixes Asadi with a cool look.

"Can I help you," he snaps.

[andhiswife]

There's a great deal of comfort to be had from the things that don't change. Greta hadn't really appreciated that before - before the Curse, or the Giant, or the Rift, or, most recently, the Devil. She appreciates it now, though, which is why she's baking as if she has a shop to run, despite the lack of any such thing.

It doesn't matter. She can keep some of the results for herself, see that her friends get a share, and put the rest in the lobby for anyone who wants or needs it. Things have been weird since the factions fell, and while nobody's starving or getting kicked out onto the street, that doesn't mean a little free food might not make things easier for someone whose life could use a little easing.

If nothing else, it's a nice treat.

At present, she has her sleeves rolled up past her elbows as she kneads a batch of dough, the radio playing quietly in the background. The afternoon sun is slanting into her apartment, emphasizing the puffs of flour she keeps sending into the air. The downside to such an unusual lot of baking is that it's making an unusual lot of mess, but the prospect of an unusual lot of cleaning doesn't bother her. She'll get to it.

For now, there's kneading.

[etherthief]

She returns his predictably chilly greeting with a wry smirk, which is fucking impressive considering the pang she feels at the sight of that shiner she gave him.

"What, is that no longer your all-important imperative?" She gestures to her dead arm. "Let's get back on track, shall we? Did you get a chance to root through my shit yet?"

[lottawork]

"I was under the impression I wasn't allowed," he says mildly, opening the door with a rattle of keys against wood. He drops the leash to permit the dog to trot in freely, which it does as predicted, and enters with a minimum of acknowledgement to either party. The door hangs open in implicit invitation. "Was that not the deal you procured at my expense?"

The dog pads to the center of the room and whines again. Without need for redirection or breaking his stride, Rush drags a bag of commercially adequate dog food and aliquots a fair portion into the dog's bowl before tipping the bag upright with the toe of his foot.

[etherthief]

"On the contrary, I gave you express permission," she says, stepping in after him. She follows the dog and plops down on the floor beside him as he eats slowly. She motions at her bag, still in its place where she left it two days ago. "Give it here. Lucifer doesn't care what you do as long as it's not 'talk back to Lucifer'. He'll probably like having you around if you prove yourself useful, i.e. fix me up. Who knows, he might be impressed by you puffing up your tail at the Rift, too."

The dog jerks up sharply, lets out a growl and a bark, causing Iman to jump slightly. She looks at the animal, perplexed, and reaches out to stroke his back. "Shhh, shh. Hey, it's okay. No Satan here. No talking cats, either. I assume."

She gives a cursory glance around, but the coast seems clear. The dog is still staring fixedly at nothing. Iman pets him a little longer and looks up at Rush. "What's with him?"

[lottawork]

Rush turns away with an understated eye-roll before returning the appropriated bag, the assortment of vaguely mechanical parts within clanking subtly with each movement.

"Quiet," he says to the dog, shooting it a firm glare. The dog continues to staunchly ignore him, ears and nose trembling as it attempts to sense something that, as far as he can see, is not actually there.

Assuming nothing followed them.

Rush rakes the space with his eyes, the dog's persistent unease edging into the stiffness of his stance.

"There was something in our way, earlier," he informs Asadi tersely without looking at her. "Incorporeal or nonphysical - I thought it was perhaps an unforeseen element of the space we occupied at the time."

He watches Sampson's tail still in his periphery.

"Of course," he says evenly, "I may have been mistaken."

[etherthief]

"What?" Iman's eyes take on a bright, interested look, for a moment looking and feeling like she used to before everything got so damn shitty. "What sort of - did it have molecular differentiation from the air, I mean, were you able to define anything about it?" She hoists herself back up, bag and arm parts completely forgotten; she pats the dog once and then reaches up experimentally toward the space he's staring at so intently.

Nothing feels different for a moment and then something - a very light something, not really a gust but a moving sensation, buzzing, tingling, and cold - passes quickly through her fingertips. She snaps her hand back sharply, and it's only a moment before shock resolves into excitement.

"Holy shit," she says rather gleefully.

[lottawork]

He makes a poorly-executed, horrendously impractical abortive movement, as if to seize her arm and prevent its vector of motion about ten seconds after the fact.

"Might it be more prudent to forestall your proclivity for self-experimentation given your current condition," he says icily, delivering a significant, sidelong look in her general direction. "The molecular air density seemed slightly increased in addition to significantly cooler in what may have potentially been an adiabatic cooling process and therefore I advise," he continues, his pitch rising in harmony to his escalating exasperation, "that you do not touch it."

[etherthief]

"I didn't touch it," she says, rolling her eyes at his typically hypocritical burst of poorly conceived concern. "It touched me."

She pulls her arm back, no longer reaching, and waits, willing the theory to prove itself. And in a moment, as if the anomaly is hesitating, it does: another gentle, tentative swipe through her arm.

"Hah!" she says triumphantly, even though she knows Rush didn't see or feel it happen. "It's aware!"

This is incredible. Is it a new rifty, one that is not like them at all? Is someone reaching to them from beyond the Rift? So many possibilities. She feels energized like she hasn't in days - weeks.