bigapplesauce | I'm not the way that you found me / I'm neither here nor there [closed]

Current Location: Aziraphale's House of Antiques
Current Music: September 29th

Entry tags:

I'm not the way that you found me / I'm neither here nor there [closed]

Jay doesn't bother trying to follow Tim closely - he knows where he's going, and he doesn't want to have to hash out the whole elevator thing again. He focuses on allowing himself to sink down through several floors of hallway, before finally he's hovering outside Tim's door just as Tim's coming up to it. Jay wonders uneasily if Tim had tried to talk to him while he was in the elevator. It's creepy enough that he can spy on people without this additional factor of being able to just vanish while someone presumes him present. This whole situation is unsettling and awkward as hell.

But he is glad to be back, even if it's only sort of.

He drifts into Tim's apartment, where he's spent very little time. Tim had only moved out pretty recently before he re-died, and they'd been sort of avoiding each other. Trying to give space. Something.

Now Jay is pretty desperate for company, and he can't really get it.

What now?

He brushes Tim's shoulder lightly. Just a nudge. Tim has to lead the conversation, here. Won't this be fun for the whole family.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This whole thing is just - it's just -

Well. It's certainly something.

Tim finds himself kind of wishing he hadn't spent all that time moving Jay out. He's gonna be watching over a ghost, and what is he supposed to do? How does he know when Jay's around? He can't just wander around tossing puffs of flour whenever he feels a cold breeze, can he?

Speaking of which.

Tim shudders as the familiar icy creep tinges his shoulder.

"Oh," he says cautiously. "Hi?"

His phone buzzes, as it has been incessantly for the past few minutes.

He looks down at it and sighs.

"We, uh. Might be getting some company," says Tim unhelpfully in what he presumes is Jay's general direction. "Someone thinks she can help."

Oh. Well. That's nice. He'd sure love to ask who, how, etc, but he can't really do anything, can he?

He doubts Tim's going to make much use of the flour trick, and he's almost fine with that.

Should he touch him again? It's weird, just constantly poking someone to indicate any number of things - it might look like he's not okay with that, for example - but is lack of acknowledgment going to seem weirder?

He has no idea how to field this shit.

He sighs, drifts over to Tim's kitchen, looking dully at the mess of dishes. He reaches out toward a roll of paper towels. He drew that line in the flour, didn't he? Greta didn't see it, but he did it. Why can't he do something like that again?

His hand passes repeatedly through the paper towels as he swipes with increasing frustration, until suddenly and for no apparent reason he connects, feels the object against his hand in a burst of pins-and-needle sensation that is over almost immediately, and the paper towels falls gently, unobtrusively, to the floor.

He looks at it, then up at Tim. Did he see that. Did he hear it. Please god.

Tim wanders to the door to listen for footsteps in the hallway. Just like those old paranoid days. Except he never managed to shake that off, not completely. Still the same overly defensive kid.

A soft rattle re-attracts his attention to the kitchen. The paper towel roll spins forlornly toward him, painting a white stripe against the floor. Tim frowns at it, then scans the empty space surrounding it.

Just a passing breeze or a burst of air friction, or something else?

"Was that progress?" he says slowly.

"Yes," Jay practically shouts at him, fucking furious that he can't be heard, and that once again, just like with the flour, he can't do it again. "Yes it was!" He kicks at the paper towels and his foot sails through it and he ends up flipping himself over in the air. Okay then. That was weird. No more ghost tantrums.

He lets out a long, inaudible groan and drifts over, defeated, to tap Tim's shoulder. He'll have to offer a yes/no mechanic if they're gonna get any further.

"All right, all right." He raises one hand in a weak please stop motion as the chill touches his shoulder. "That's - that's good, then. Maybe you're getting more solid?"

He can't prevent the hopeful note creeping into his tone. Maybe this is just temporary. Maybe Jay's just coming back piece by piece.

Maybe Tim shouldn't waste his time acting like he's remotely good at optimism.

What, he doesn't like the cold touch? So how is he supposed to answer?

Maybe it was a rhetorical question. It might as well be, because fuck if Jay knows. He can't tell the difference and he still can't tell what he's doing differently that has enabled him to make real contact with objects those two times.

Well, whatever. Maybe this person who's coming to help will actually be able to, you know, help.

This is better, he reminds himself. This is so much better than the fucking cats.

And it is. Even if he can't kick the paper towels.

Finally something Asmodia can ~~maybe~~ help with. She shouldn't have been disappointed Tim found his friend without her help, since it was never very likely she'd be of any use, but if she's going to advertise herself as an adventurer for hire it'd probably be good to show that she's capable of doing something more than asking a bunch of obvious questions.

She finishes prying the location of Tim's apartment out of him (seriously, why is this so hard) as she makes a beeline back to the ex-Rebel building, and it's not long before the elevator deposits her on the indicated floor. "Hello?" she calls as she makes her way down the hall. "Uh, Tim?"

Oh and good, help's arrived.

Relative help, anyway. The string of circumstances that led to Tim actually finding Jay hasn't really given him the best idea of Asmodia's abilities or her degree of competence, but it's not like he's got a lot of options here. And being able to at least talk to Jay would be a plus. A mild plus.

The familiar voice drifts through the crack of the door, and Tim opens it fully to peer into the hallway.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi!" At this point, she'd half expected him to tell her the wrong floor and leave her to wander around all afternoon. Half expected. She strides down to Tim's door, Biscuit skulking at her heels, and comes to a stop in front of him. "So where's this kind of ghost?" she asks, peering past him as though she'll be able to see Jay already. "I mean, I know you can't see him, but I'm guessing you've figured out how to confirm he's actually here."

Jay's curious about who this person is, so as soon as she's in the doorway, he drifts closer.

Oh you have got to be kidding.

What are the fucking odds of this.

He doesn't wait for Tim to 'confirm' anything, just reaches out and brushes her shoulder, accidentally scuffing Tim's when he pulls back. Well, isn't this cozy.

"Hey," says Tim, the word an unintentionally if incredibly unenthusiastic dry pull. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as it feels like Jay just went ahead and refrigerated his back, and he reaches up to rub the area automatically.

"That'd be him," he says. "The, uh, the cold spots. Um."

There's a - a rat of some kind at their feet. Rodent? Thingy?

"Do they allow pets in here?" he asks uncertainly, both unsure of the answer and who he's directing the question to.

Asmodia gives a violent start when a strangely familiar jolt of cold goes through her shoulder. Understanding follows momentarily and she lets out a snort halfway between indignation and amusement. "Little rude," she informs Jay. "Especially when you don't know a person."

She pushes past Tim, not waiting for an invitation (or for Jay to get out of the way, whoops -- at least if she steps through him she'll be half expecting the cold). "And Biscuit's not a pet. Come on, let's do this thing."

Aaaand she walks right through him, all right then. At least she's taking all of this in stride.

How the fuck does Tim know her? What is even happening here?

Sure would be nice if someone explained anything to him.

He floats back, clearing a path for Tim, and looks between them expectantly, waiting for them to 'do this thing', whatever that thing may be.

"Well, uh." Tim flounders, at a loss for words. If 'Biscuit' isn't a pet, what is it? It's furry and small and rodent-like so it definitely seems like some kind of...pet-like thing.

He watches woman and rat go right ahead and cross the threshold uninvited like the world's smallest, most bizarre parade, torn between indignation and bemusement.

"What is it, then?" he asks, indicating the rat pointedly with a tilt of his head, feeling they should at least start with that point since it seems pretty salient? He doesn't want his only potential avenue for communication with Jay getting kicked out for keeping animals in the building.

Yep, she just walked through him, the full-body shiver makes it abundantly clear. Asmodia turns to look at Tim, who seems to be fixating on irrelevant details again, and gives her upper arms a brisk rub as she waits for her teeth to stop chattering. Definitely don't walk through Jay again.

"He's--" she starts, then stops again to frown at Tim. How much does she want to tell him? Of course, he's probably going to figure out she's a magic user once she starts using magic in a minute. It'd be kind of obvious to a lot of people back home, too; she hasn't exactly been shy about talking to Biscuit in front of other people. The donkey rat himself blinks beady eyes at Tim from his station at Asmodia's feet, then up at Asmodia with a little huff. "He's my familiar," she explains. "He's also smart enough to know what you're saying, so maybe watch the pronouns."

He groans and rolls his eyes in an exaggerated motion toward Tim, if only he could see it. Really? That's what he's asking about? Eyes on the fucking prize here, man.

And Asmodia's following up on it too, wonderful. Yes, all right, the animal is moderately interesting (aren't familiars like - some fantasy thing?), but he's starting to get pretty impatient to know why Asmodia is here.

He makes a cursory swat toward her, but he doesn't quite have the heart to make actual contact, she still looks so cold from walking through him. He sighs and resigns himself to wait.

Familiar. Okay, that's great. So she's magic? Does that make this a magic rodent?

What the hell has Tim got them involved in, and why is it his fault instead of Jay's this time. This is right up there with accepting a bag of old, unlabeled tapes in the first damn place.

The thought doesn't do much to improve his mood.

"Great," says Tim, shutting the door with more force than intended or needed. He stands back, well away from the source of the cold prickle against his skin, and folds his arms. "So what is it you can do? You said you could help."

"...Magic," says Asmodia like she's not sure Tim's been following this conversation at all. Did she not...did she not explain?

She didn't explain. "Um," she says, abruptly losing her bravado. "I'm going to -- if he's not solid and you can't see him, that probably means he's ethereal. If he is on the ethereal plane, all I have to do is blink and I'll be able to see him the same as if he was on the material plane."

Well.

All right then.

Tim doesn't really know how to respond to that.

"Okay," he says, after a more-than-reasonably-lengthy pause where he just doesn't know how to touch that and then ultimately decides to - not.

If it works, he's decided not to look any gift horses in their goddamn mouths. It's not like his life has been big on gift horses lately. Or ever.

"What should I - " He wavers, looking at her uncertainly. "Do I need to - do anything? Or should I just - "

He'll just. Yeah. Stand back. Let her do her thing.

She waits for a response, just sort of staring at him until he comes to some kind of verdict. No telling what Jay's making of all this, at least not yet. She clenches her teeth in a smile that's not at all reassuring when he finally just accepts the premise, then gives a quick little shake of her head.

"No, no, it's not anything dangerous -- it's an easy one, really, all I have to do is --" She draws in a breath and brings one hand up in front of her breast, twisting it in the air and hooking her fingers just so --"blink."

And just like that, she's no longer on the material plane. Or she is, but for only a fraction of a second at a time, her body apparently flickering in and out of existence in the middle of Tim's living room. The other half of the time she's somewhere that looks gray and murky to her, accompanied by --

"Ah," she says, correcting her stance to face Jay directly. "Jay?"

Jay is equal parts intrigued, dubious, and impatient for her to get on with it - when suddenly she does.

He can't quite tell what's happening from Tim's perspective, but to him she looks suddenly like something on old film, flickering slightly, not in and out, but - she's brighter and then different, still visible, but more like him.

And then she looks at him and talks to him and just like that all he feels is immense relief.

"Hi?" he blurts awkwardly. "Hi. Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Cause nobody tells him shit anymore.

Well, he's not sure what he expected, really. But one minute she's here and the next she's - hopefully wherever Jay is.

Tim blinks. Frowning, he tentatively stretches out a hand to rake fingers through the patch of air where she was, then thinks better of it and snatches his hand back. She's still there, he can see it, just sort of vacillating, flickering almost, like a candle's stilling flame.

All he can do, really, is hope that Jay can see her too. Tim sighs and runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel unbearably anxious at the entire weird-as-balls idea of ghosts and magic. He is so goddamn out of his depth. He was never in his depth. Really, Tim's pretty sure he doesn't actually have a depth.

But maybe something will come of this. The universe owes them at this point.

"Asmodia!" she replies with a grin, pleased as punch that this worked...if maybe less so with Tim swiping a hand through her shoulder. She spares him a glance. "Don't do that. And he's right here, he's looking..." she squints at Jay, "almost corporeal."

Alright, enough introductions. "I don't have long like this," she says, attention back on Jay. "So if you know a way for us to help you, spit it out."

"O-oh, um-" Great, now the pressure's on. "I don't - I don't know. Tell him, uh, the cats are still watching me. But I'm okay."

This is so awkward. He'd rather just talk to Tim. Talking to him is hard enough, talking to other people is even harder, and doing this awkward channeling thing is pretty well beyond him. On top of that he has nothing helpful to say.

"And uh, tell him," he adds hastily, uncertainly, "...tell him thanks."

"The...cats are still watching you," repeats Asmodia dubiously. She gives a brisk shake of her head -- don't editorialize, just deliver the message and see if there's more going either way. She looks Tim's way as she dutifully recites, "He says the cats are still watching him, but he's -- alright? And he says thank you. What cats?"

"Oh, fuck," says Tim, his expression souring. That's what they need. More attention from other paranormal, powerful, terrifying entities whose purpose they can't define.

He rubs a hand over his face, trying to massage away the budding headache. "They're, uh - they're like the Rift or something, or it speaks through them, I dunno." And their interest in the two of them apparently hasn't waned.

That's just great. Jay a fucking ghost, and pursued by creepy Rift-dictated felines. He says he's 'all right,' but when has their definition of 'all right' ever really meant it.

"Are they, what, stalking him? Does he know what they want?"

This isn't fair to her. She's not their go-between but, fuck - Tim has no idea when he's gonna get the chance to talk to Jay again.

Jay's already responding before Tim even finishes. "No, no, it was just one showed up earlier, didn't even seem pissed that you pulled me out. I have no fucking idea what they want."

What else is new.

"Asmodia," he says, "is there - anything you can do about this? I mean like some magic thing to make me visible or... something?"

"It was just one and it wasn't angry?" This conversation is barely making sense beyond the information that she's landed in the midst of people who have the Rift's attention. And the Rift is cats.

Clock is ticking.

"Uh," she says, because she should be able to think of something, right? Clever magic user, that's her. "Hrrmph. Um." Biscuit chitters, and she groans. "That's not helpful, Biscuit, you know you don't know that one. Ah...not that I can think of, Jay. Sorry."

It wasn't angry? So it was curious? Are they the Rift's latest science experiment? Jay's not in any immediate danger, according to him - but then, Jay was never all that observant despite his stupid choices in extracurricular activities.

Tim is just so fucking glad that Jay's a ghost and they can't fucking communicate.

It only occurs to him after the fact that Jay allegedly said 'thanks'. And as usual, with all his typical grace and tact, Tim just drives on ahead and sweeps that one under the rug.

"There's no way to - to change him back or anything?" The hand has crept up to fist into the hair on the back of his head, unconscious and agitated.

"It's okay," he says quickly, holding a hand out toward Asmodia. "Uh, thank you. Really. Tell Tim I'm gonna - I'll either be here or my place. I'm not going anywhere."

He glances regretfully at Tim, his tense posture, the hand in his hair. "We're gonna figure this out."

She gives Jay a wistful smile, but reaches her own hand out to shake. She's not quite solid on this plane, either, but she's there at least half the time and she's making an effort to touch him. She tries really hard not to make this handshake awkward, but she's probably squeezing too hard again.

"I can do this again tomorrow," she says. "We'll figure something out, or at least you'll be able to talk to --" the spell ends without warning, leaving her solid as Jay seems to wink out of existence but for a sharp chill in her hand, "--Tim. Balls."

The tension in the air seems to stretch and snap like a rubber band before it flickers back to normal. Tim blinks rapidly as if adjusting to a shift in the light, his eyes itching, Asmodia's silhouette flaring briefly behind closed lids.

"Done?" he asks, quiet and anxious, though he's pretty sure her present solidity is a pretty good affirmation. Even if it wasn't, her muttered curse certainly was.

The touch is unexpected, and he spends his last visible moments sort of staring at her hand. He was just making a vague gesture, but she actually made contact.

It's kinda nice.

"Yeah?" he says, watching unhappily as she winks back into regular existence. He sighs, feeling immediately lonely, looking away. "Maybe he should invest in a fucking ouija board."

"Yeah," sighs Asmodia. "Yeah, I'm done." She runs her fingers through her hair in a gesture that looks awkward without her horns visible to explain their stunted trajectory, then shakes her head. "It's not really that he's, uh, transformed. I was right, he's on the ethereal plane -- it's, uh. Between here and the shadow plane. What we need is someone who can perform a planar shift, or maybe make a gate. All I can do is kind of, you know. Visit." Her shoulders slump and she mutters, "Once a day."

"Do you know anyone could do that?" he asks, and he doesn't even dare to force a sliver of hope into his tone. Her despondency makes it pretty obvious that they've been left with shit luck on that front, as usual.

His arms curl around him in an involuntary defensive gesture, half-folded and half-hugging himself.

"Well. Thanks," he mutters. "For what it's worth."

"If we were in Absalom I could pay someone to do it inside a week, but here..." She shakes her head. "Maybe someone else has come through that has the right skill set. At least you know what he is, and I can tell you he's not turned into some kind of undead or whatever." Because wouldn't that suck.

"...You're welcome."

"Yeah," he mutters. Undead. Her universe sure sounds appealing and safe for all ages.

He'd take over it his, any day of the week.

"I dunno if you - I don't have much." He'd feel like a complete cheapskate if he didn't at least offer, so he reluctantly tugs out his wallet and starts thumbing through it, only to find himself at a loss. What's a reasonable sum for getting someone to act as conduit for a kind-of-dead ghost person?

Yeah, there's probably not a real common market for this.

"Oh! Oh, right!" She was doing this for pay, wasn't she? It's more like being back in Nirmathas, bartering mending and healing magic for supplies, than it is like taking commissions for retrieving relics. She didn't exactly do much, didn't have to slay anyone or even steal anything.

"Twenty dollars?" she suggests dubiously, not sure if she's asking too low or too high. "That's enough for a couple meals, right? Unless you wanted to pay me in eggs or something, done that before."

"Twenty bucks is fine," says Tim, faintly bemused as he obligingly fishes out a twenty and hands it to her. "It'll cover some choice groceries."

He's not sure if she's really as accustomed to living on a budget as he and Jay is, but it helps if she lives in one of the former faction buildings. At least he's got something of an income. Though not, Tim recalls with a pang of anxious guilt, for much longer if he keeps missing work days.

"Thanks," he adds, stuffing hands back into his pockets with a shrug. "For, uh - you know."

No haggling means that she probably underpriced it. Well, you win some and you lose some. Asmodia accepts the bill with a cursory glance (bizarre as this paper money is, at least the numbers on it are nice and clear, not too much danger of mix-ups) and pockets it, making a mental note to actually price check some of the more common goods and get a better idea what things are even worth.

She offers him a reassuring smile. "No problem," she says. She feels competent for the first time in ages, like she's actually been able to do something. That alone would have been worth the trouble. "If you need to talk to him again...I can only do that once each day now, but it's no trouble, really."

"I'll - keep it in mind," he says, earnest despite the crawling need over his skin to get away, think everything over - why are the cats there, and what do they want with Jay - and ducks his head in a short nod. "Well. I got your number."

"Yeeeah." That's a phone thing, isn't it? She's pretty sure he's talking about the phone. "I'll, um, see you around, then," she says, heading for the door. She gives a vague nod in the general direction of the apparently empty room. "You too, Jay."

"Yeah," he says, not sure what else to say, if there is anything else to say. He's probably putting Jay to shame with all this shrugging and noncommittal grunting, but at least he knows, concretely, that Jay is - relatively - all right.

He wait until she's gone before closing the door fully, then breathes out a very loud sigh.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm not the way that you found me / I'm neither here nor there [closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject