Private Tales Whisper Wind [Sable]

[Sable Pembroke]

One word. One simple word. Indeed.

The weight of that answer was more crushing than any injury Sable could recall. It hit him like a blow to his gut and he immediately felt ill, sinking to his knees in shock. His hands fell to rest on his thighs and he stared at his upturned palms for several long moments. Despair was a pit most deep.

"I...recall what you told me...when we sparred, those years ago...I just...never wanted it to be...I'd hoped that, of anyone, I could at least protect you," he croaked, unsure where to look given Chasmine's ethereal state. "Seems I failed in that regard as well."

 

[Isabelle]

Ever silent, the little shade peeked from its hiding space, looking to Chasmine as if waiting for approval to come back out. From where it had secreted itself away it could sense the sadness that rolled like waves into the spirit realm, but could not see where it came from.

 

[Chasmine]

What she told him when they sparred? Much of Chasmine's memories of this place had become cluttered and jumbled - a box of puzzle pieces all belonging to different puzzles and not necessarily complete in their collection. Those moments of lucidity, that which remained poignantly with Sable, were not within the the present realm of recollection for her.

As such, her mind simply let the point go.

"Come out now, friend," she said to the little shade, offering a pale and translucent hand to it in the spirit realm, "this being is kind and generous."

Sable's despair, as it turned out, was an excellent source of emotional energy to pull from and Chasmine did so perhaps with a bit of greed, but only for his benefit. Before the book in the aisle, a glimmer appeared within the air as fog coalesced and took form. Soon, with the coldness of her presence spreading as she sapped every ounce of energy from the air, the ghostly apparition of Chasmine stood before him.

"I have come to miss your sandwiches, Sable," she informed him wistfully, "they always had the perfect ratio of condiments."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

"Come out now, friend,"

Sable did not know who this could have been directed at, but he barely cared. Devastation at such a revelation was not so easily skipped over. Yet, somehow, he felt that pain start to slip away from him. Bodily so, like something was drinking it from his very being. He looked up, only to see the spectral form of his long lost friend.

"I've...I've missed making them for you, Chas. I've missed our talks, and you randomly phasing into my room. I wish I could have--" he grit his teeth, choking on the words and biting back the urge to weep. "You...probably can't eat them the way you are now, can you?"

The hurt was still very much pounding at his heart, but Chasmine was not sad, and he doubted she wanted him to be either. The throbbing in his skull was starting to return, but he fought against it as hard as he could. It was the least he could do for her, of all people.

Time to remark on that 'friend.'
"Also, what was that before? Are we not alone?"

 

[Isabelle]

Some odd fear gripped at the shade. She did not come out - not yet...

 

[Chasmine]

"I have no need for food anymore," Chasmine replied with a gentle shake of her head and a small smile pressing itself onto her lips that was not remiss of sadness as well. She did indeed miss food and tea. Tending to her gardens and feeding Kalix's cats. Visiting the owlettes in the crumbling tower of the Blackwood. And yes, even traipsing into rooms unintentionally wherein sometimes she was gifted with a nice conversation instead of anger.

"But my delight of our talks will never fade."

But food alone - what a wonderful thing to miss! His grief certainly could not compare to a freshly baked loaf of bread from Melinda in the kitchens.

"Alone?" she queried with a blink and a wondering look about, "We are never truly alone, Sable."

"In my entire life, I have never been alone. They have always been there, the spirits and the demons. Tonight I was found by a Shade. It has been assisting me with my task but seems quite shy."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Much of Chas' musings were still as cryptic to Sable as they ever had been. She had, however, always spoken of her ties to the world's ethereal boundaries. In the past he'd been skeptic. Seeing her like this, there was no room to doubt.

There was, however, the last detail of her conclusion that stood out to him, tickled at the corners of his addled mind.

"A...'shade?'..."

"But my delight of our talks will never fade."

He shook the thought for the moment, curious as he still was about her current company. Sable smiled, the pain still evident on his mien.
"Nor mine, Chasmine. But will you fade?"

 

[Chasmine]

A curious question indeed and not really one that Chasmine had considered, even if she above most gave death a great deal of time and consideration.

"Perhaps," she replied thoughtfully, "one day I may accomplish what I am here to do and pass on," but what that purpose was eluded even herself. Why she had not passed on? An unknowable thing.

"I do not wish to remain a ghost forever."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

The aching in his head returned at the mention of Chasmine "passing on." This was not the reunion he wanted. It was almost easier to accept that she'd simply been gone before this encounter. Truly he wanted to believe that she'd found a better life, somewhere beyond all the discord and tribulation of Vel Anir. Maybe that she'd run away with Dorian and started over anew.

But no. Instead, she was just...dead. And stuck in limbo, no less. Visions of a little girl being slain by proctors flashed through his mind. Chasmine's visage found itself being substituted in now. Death by the hands of their instructors, their protectors. He grit his teeth.

"I have just two questions: who did this to you?" he raised his head and looked at her grimly. "And can you be restored?"

 

[Chasmine]

She was quiet for a time following those two questions, a wistful and weary smile watching Sable. Everyone wished to know who had brought about her death and, truly, Chasmine could not really say who was to blame. Herself for believing someone had finally begun to care? Or the demon who had abandoned her within the gates of the unlife. Perhaps it was her own lack of ability and power to be able to keep up. Perhaps he'd not meant to leave her behind at all.

But all those suppositions made not one difference at all.

The spectre turned back to the book she'd been focusing on and once again gave it her attention. A delicate and faintly glowing hand lifted toward it, gesturing to the book to slowly close its cover.

"That is why I have come back to the Academy," and with both hands then reaching forward to the book, though never truly making contact, she lifted it up into the air and levitated it back into place. Sable would feel the pull on his emotions, the creeping of cold.

"To live again through the spirits of others."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Some small fire still burned within Chasmine's soul, it seemed. Embers stoked on by a determination he did not know she had.

Even so, it seemed she also maintained that same haze that clouded her mind for as long as Sable had known her. That, or she was being intentionally obtuse about answering Sable directly. He never could tell with her.

The uncomfortable chill and the sapping of his energies was unnerving, but no more so than the idea of his dear friend being dead, yet somehow still talking to him.

"I...see," he didn't. "And how is that going? How does it work?"

 

[Chasmine]

A very good question. Chasmine supposed she hadn't taken the time to gauge how it was going, so she did just that. After a few moments, a quaint smile affixed itself to her face.

"It is going well," she said, moving forward and past him to the next shelf with an abandoned book, "some time ago it was nearly impossible to effect the physical realm."

With her hands she once more repeated her previous actions, gesturing as if to pick up the book without ever really touching it and lifting it up to be nestled back into its place.

"I have not yet learned just how it will work, but I am certain I have a long way to go."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Huh. Sable let out a huff of an exasperated laugh.
"I won't claim to get it, but it sounds like you've got some determination about you. That maybe you're getting stronger. That's something, at least."

Silver-white circles surrounded by inky black peaked from the gaps between two of the books Chasmine had just tucked onto a shelf. Sable caught the movement, and for a moment their gazes met before the shade ducked back into hiding. Was it because of Chas that he could see...whatever that was?
"Alright, I have to ask: what the hell is that shadowy thing that's following you about? It's...unsettling."

 

[Chasmine]

It was nice to hear some positive reinforcement from another, though Chasmine now was more aware of how often people sneered and joked and lied with her than not. Difficult was it to tell just how genuine the praise might be, but in the end it barely mattered. She'd gotten here on her own and even without Sable's kind words she would continue to work hard at progressing her abilities, for her own sake.

"That is my shade friend," said the ghost, smiling faintly in its direction, "it seems to be quite curious of you. Perhaps if you sit on the floor and read a book aloud it may appear to you."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Read to it? Yes...yes that seemed the correct thing to do. There was the strangest feeling of nostalgia within Sable's chest as Chasmine made the suggestion, a call that he could not resist. Such a strange sensation, and a stranger request; what reason did he really have to comply? If nothing else, perhaps doing so would bring some degree of happiness to his old, undead friend.

"Right..." he complied, scooping one of the fallen books off the floor. He eyed it's cover: a book of children's parables. Such a specific work to be left still upon the ground. Was it by chance? Who could say?

Sable sat as instructed, folding his legs in upon themselves and opening the book. Tired as he was, with just enough moonlight to do so, he began to read.

 

[Isabelle]

Unease. That was the emotion that the little shade conveyed to Chasmine now. But it, too, could feel and feed upon the emotions of the living, though perhaps not as effectively as she could. Nostalgia, warm and welcoming, radiated through the room. The shade could not help but feel drawn to it.

The bedtime stories being poured into the room only served to increase the efficacy of that lure. Slowly, though Sable did not notice it while engrossed in the pages, the shade came out of hiding. It eventually came to sit in front of him, similarly cross legged, staring intently at the young man as he spoke life to the dusty old texts.

But perhaps, among the warmth, Chasmine might be able to feel the rising energy of tension within the room, like a fraying violin string on the verge of a loud and sour break.

 

[Chasmine]

She waited in calm silence, a somber gaze watching as the little shade made herself comfortable before the large Dreadlord on the floor. It was nice to hear Sable reading the story - a curious sort of dichotomy to the savagery of their lives. After a short while, when it seemed her little friend was less unsure, she moved to kneel down beside it, folding to sit on her knees and listen as well.

When Sable's story came to an end, Chasmine could not even say that she knew what story he'd told. The ghost had been far more interested in the minutae of his expression while he read and the sensation of emotions radiating off of him.

"See?" she said to her shade friend, gently looping a faintly glowing, translucent blueish arm around the smaller, darker shape beside her, "I told you he was kind. This is Sable. He used to make me sandwiches when I got stuck in walls."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

With the story complete, Sable looked up to look upon the being he was reading to. He was surprised to see the form of what looked like a little girl, stark white hair and jet black skin, with vacant circles for eyes staring back at him. What was it that Sable had asked Chasmine to look out for all that time ago? His brow creased and his head began to throb in pain. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

A name whispered itself through Sable's mind on repeat and danced across his tongue, daring, threatening to be spoken. Three little syllables forced themselves from Sable's maw, affecting an innocence that he had long since shed.

"...Isabelle..?"

He asked of the shade so softly, so carefully. A tinge of hope, foolish as it was, marked the name. Sable was confused, saddened, elated, and more all at once. Had she been here all this time? Stranded and alone? Chasmine had seemed to be able to bring her comfort, even wrapping an arm around the little girl's shoulder. Sable reached forward, ever so gingerly, knowing that he likely could not truly touch the phantasm before him even as dread began to violate every corner of his mind.

 

[Isabelle]

Fear. Unadulterated, crippling fear. It radiated from the shade of Isabelle Marshall in great, paralyzing waves. A tsunami of terror plunged the room into aching dread as the space around the trio began to grow darker. The shade watched as Sable's hand drew near to her face, and an unparalleled malice joined that ungodly aura of abject horror.

Sable repeated the name once more, this time more confused but less hesitant than before.

"Isabelle?"

Her hair roiled as though it were caught in a breeze and streaks of white began to roll down the shade's featureless face. Abruptly, a cracking noise could be heard, and the shape of a huge black spike erupted from the side of the girl's neck. Then another, from her sternum. Then one from her eye, the back of her skull, her stomach, her arms, her legs, everywhere. And she screamed. A horrid, bloodcurdling shriek that echoed through the halls of the library.

Sable could do naught but watch as Isabelle replayed her death before him. Watch, and begin to froth at the mouth. The young man's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he began to choke on his own spit, his limbs rapidly jerking about. As he toppled to the floor, perhaps it would be clear to Chasmine: Isabelle was causing him to seizure.

 

[Chasmine]

The turn of events was a bit like watching an avalanche. The first poor tidings a somber crack of emotion that thundered soundlessly through the confines of the library. The next the slow descent of the first wave. Chasmine, for all her experience now with the nightmares oft' inflicted upon the living by the dead, for several moments detached to watch the scene unfold - listless with curious wonder.

How quickly Isabelle's torment surfaced and began the tumble or horror upon one of the few she might yet still agree was a good person. Her arm withdrew, and much like watching the slow lumbering gait of a snow shelf dropping from on high, she witnessed as the long-past memory of death collected momentum and built in power until the tumult became too much and overtook Sable Pembroke there before her. He was suffocating in his own fear and guilt while the disaster that was Isabelle continued onwards, incapable of stopping or being stopped.

If Chasmine knew one thing, it was that these horrors would eventually run themselves flat as the avalanche would slow upon finding smoother lands below. But... Sable might not survive the event long enough to wait it out. So she would have to provide a bulwark against it. Rising from the floor, Chasmine moved herself between the shade and its target, pressed her hands together at her front with the tips of pinky, pointer, and thumb each touching the opposite, while middle and ring bent to second knuckle.

She began the mantra that would calm anxious, lost, vengeful spirits to help them find ease and comfort, to encourage them to move on, to shield them from the living. Behind her the image of Sable became hazey and disconnected, as if looking at him through frosted glass, and that same darkness brought on by Isabelle dispersed outward to the nether. The library faded from view as she depleted the shade's attachment to the living realm.

You can choose to be free of your fear, anger, pain, and past... she told the shade, You do not have to suffer them anymore. I will show you the way onward if you would but accept.

 

[Isabelle]

In the calming haze that Chasmine enveloped Isabelle within, the shade suddenly tumbled backwards onto her rear. Her hands and feet scrabbled at the floor to push herself away, then the girl curled herself into a fetal ball, hands clutching the top of her head.

Snapped from her fervor, the strange spikes melted away to nothingness. For the first time, Chasmine would be able to hear Isabelle: the simple sound of a scared little girl crying. Echoing and sourceless, the shade's voice would fill Chasmine's mind just as Chasmine had invaded hers.

...Sorry...sorry...didn't mean to! Didn't!

Those same hollow eyes gazed up once more at Chasmine, a deep sadness resonating through the space.

Can't go. Not yet. Want to...but, truth, not know. Sable not know. Has to. Has to! HAS TO!

With that, every fiber of Isabelle's tenuous being fought to escape, to flee back into whatever esoteric depths she had hidden for so many years within the Academy. Sable was safe, now Isabelle wanted to be, too.

 

[Chasmine]

The sadness resonated with Chasmine in a way that Isabelle likely would not ever understand. It was a story she'd heard and witnessed countless times before, only from different figures, different voices, different circumstances. The spirit realm was endlessly populated with lost souls and Isabelle was but a drop in an ocean.

I understand, Chasmine's gentle tone said back, one day we will find your truth and it will be known. Go in peace now.

With her hands still set as before, she slowly curled her fingers inwards to loosely coiled fists then released her hands outwards with fingers splayed as if dispersing a handful of fireflies. The hold on the pulled veil lifted, allowing the shade to retreat back into the shadows of the spirit realm.

The library around Sable fell still, its natural dimness returning. The cold abated, replaced now only by the faint chill of Chasmine's presence as she reappeared beside him, knelt near his head on the floor.

"Well," said her ghost breathlessly as she peered down at the young man, "wasn't that an interesting encounter..."