[se] skipping stones

He didn’t like it – either Kiada’s approach or the bizarre situation, holding in a thousand breaths as they maneuvered slowly towards the intangible woman. Flimsy, insubstantial, but her voice ricocheting like nettles and thorns; piercing and puncturing together, raking as little knives. He too glanced into the grass, amidst the long stalks, but couldn’t send anything – not alive, anyway, and he had to half-wonder if she was searching for something that simply couldn’t be found.

But the Harpy asked and he remained vigilantly silent, a guard and protective force, until the wraith shrieked again, and then became quieter, dismal, a whisper in the wind. ”My eyes! My boys!” until it repreated like a mantra, in between the most despondent of sobs.

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

Working her jaw, the Harpy takes a slow inhale, fighting away the anxiety that spreads in her stomach at the sounds that leave the ghost. Not only is it a spectral being creating them (not unlike most LongNights), the such visceral sorrow and dismay in the spirit’s voice is enough to set Kiada’s teeth on edge. Eyes and boys, however, give a starting point and Kiada glances up toward Deimos in confusion as to where to start.

Maybe… Eyes? Or if there are other ghosts around? She doesn’t know – so she straightens up, starts to wander a bit closer toward the edge of the river, in pursuit of spectral eyes sitting on the ground. Because in her opinion, anything could happen. Maybe they were just floating around, ready to be returned?

stitch me into all your plans

Bewildered and drawn to silence in the confusion and despondent display, his brows furrowed as the spirit recounted what she’d lost; setting his jaw into a clenching formation. Any relaxation from previous measures and moments had been completely unraveled, and he had to wonder if it was some kind of ruse; a trap, laden and snared, ready for one of them to pluck the right string or wander too close.

But this wasn’t LongNight and the world might’ve simply been unwinding before them – plains upon plains blending together into a strange stranglehold of viciousness and despair. His spine straightened, taut and unyielding all the more as he followed after Kiada, not intending to let her venture any closer to some damnation – and so he too could search for “eyes”. There were no boys to be seen.

Unless others nearby counted – and who was to believe if they were even here as well? His glance went to other wisps of spirits, striving to catch sight of any that seemed young…if that was even the case. He looked at the Harpy out of the corner of his eye again, a protective watch and march, as he finally allowed some speech to flow through his walled chest. “What did they look like?” Either the children or the eyes…

The woman’s head stayed bowed, restless and saddened again. ”Just mere babes, gone, gone gone…hardly more than two.”

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

Confusion blooms as the Harpy searches more, bolstered by the help from the Sword. She’s still tensed, body ready to fight at any moment should things take a turn, but for now it seems relatively handled as they search, glancing around the bank of the river as well as in the grasses nearby.

She listens to the explanation, glancing over toward Deimos when the answer hits and she frowns a little — unable to imagine losing children so young, and certainly not wanting to. But she turns halfway back, spies something faint in the base of the reeds that are nearby, a pair of glowing and fuzzy spheres, what looked to be exactly like ghost eyes if she had any guess. “I think I found the eyes.” She informs Deimos as she pulls the reeds aside, digging into the base to try and pluck them from within.

stitch me into all your plans

He was shocked, and impressed, she’d been able to source any kind of intangible ethers out amidst the scene, but his quick glance to where she pulled reeds aside left him shrugging his shoulders. “Good find. Might as well try it,” and he concentrated on lifting, pulling, tugging at the air around them, until they were lifted from the plants and edges of the embankment. If they could present and provide such objects to the ghost, perhaps it would be enough; but from a safer span in case things went awry.

They managed to shift and churn about in his mastered incantations, long enough to hover before the wraith. “These?” He rumbled, grimacing all the while, while the woman felt around for the spectral filaments, as her hand came to grasp the otherwise delicate and insubstantial webbings in a silent ”Oh…”. He had no inclination of watching to see if she simply shoved them back in, and instead searched the skies, the surroundings for more phantoms – of the very young variety.

After a few moments, his jaw jutted towards a few close to the water – already setting him on edge again. “What about there?” He whispered to Kiada, hoping she could see them too.

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

She, too, was shocked to have found anything of note that could come close to what the ghost is looking for. And luckily for her, having Deimos here means she doesn’t have to touch the ghost-eyes. Flashing him a thankful smile as he lifts the eyes from the reeds where she’d found them and watches as he maneuvers it to hover above the wraith, the oh is met with the Harpy’s utmost curiosity.

Unlike Deimos, she does watch as the specter pops them back in, even though her nose wrinkles with the thought – wondering vaguely if ghosts could feel.

She stands a little closer  to him, letting her iceberg gaze drift around in search for the rest of the wraith’s family, a few settled nearby the water that Deimos whispers to her, eyes landing immediately upon them. They looked like they could be, and she nods silently toward him before she approaches the wraith again, keeping a bit of a distance this time, tilting her horned head down toward her as she points toward those appearing as children on the fringes. “Are your boys over there?” She asks as delicately as she can.

stitch me into all your plans

He watched, uncertain again, as the wraiths persisted amongst the ethers. Following slowly and carefully behind her, his gaze caught the filaments as they meandered around the edge of the riverbank – only to see they didn’t appear human or toddler-like at all. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be wispy tendrils of other animals, pulsing along until they bobbed out of sight, and came back in once more moments later.

Though he wasn’t sure if the ghost could see any better with her newfound, and still not alive, eyes, the wraith’s features altered and changed the moment she seemed to pinpoint upon the trail of filaments too. ”No,” she sighed, and it sounded like it was nearly a whimper – still lingering on the thresholds of hope.

“Do you see any others then?” The Sword whispered to the Harpy, beginning to walk further down the embankment too, dreading that they might be close to the river for a variety of reasons.

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

Trying to focus further on the ghosts at the water’s edge, Kiada’s brows pinch as she realizes shortly after her question that no – they wouldn’t be, and a part of her suddenly feels bad for bringing them up in the first place before she had a chance to actually look. So she takes a quiet deep breath, looking over to Deimos as he scans as well, walking further down the embankment.

She follows, glancing back toward the ghost they’re trying to help, when she spies from the opposite side of the direction they’re going, more little spectral tendrils – as if they’d been silently followed on their trek over here. “Those, perhaps?” She asks in a whisper back, tugging at his sleeve to see if he can see them too.

stitch me into all your plans

It could’ve been worse, he supposed, than dealing with a grieving ghost. Their LongNight experiences had taught them both a range of devastating potentials, and perhaps he was slightly grateful that the phantom hadn’t thought to reach out, attack, seethe, or indulge. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe they’d all long lost that spirit or potential. Maybe it had simply been the Voice’s demons parading in the night, and these ones, had been long forgotten amidst collections of souls, scattered along the way.

Kiada spotted more possibilities though, and his gaze tracked in the same direction as hers, watching the makeshift tendrils and enigmas clustering and coiling around one another. “I see them,” he noted with a nod and a murmur, before opting to make it apparent to the quiet and mourning wraith. “What about there?”

At which her delicate and flimsy head shot up, as if the promise of potential was too great again, and she began walking over, slowly scrutinizing the ether – but saying nothing at all.

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

Working her jaw, she watches as the suggestion is met when Deimos confirms he can see the extra ghosts on the fringes as well – and she watches even more as the one they’re working with, complete now with her sight back, stands and begins to drift toward them. But the silence eats at her, and she wishes that the specter would’ve said something that gave them an idea.

So she heaves a soft sigh, looks up to Deimos with a small smile and a shrug, and starts to follow the ghostly woman, sidling up close enough in silence to see if perhaps the ghosts they’d spotted were in fact the correct ones, or whether they needed to keep looking.

stitch me into all your plans

Perhaps the ghost had been overcome with silence for a variety of reasons. Grief, an understandable quandary that drifted in amongst the emotions no matter living or not. Contentment, maybe because it had been her children…or some other overlapping notions he couldn’t quite fathom – and he glanced to Kiada again, shrugging his shoulders in an echo of motions, but following along in case.

From there though, the phantom seemed to lunge, a movement fast and swift compared to her other slinking motions form before. Not towards them, out of disdain or misery, but some sentiments like hope, dashing across the rest of the grounds and headed straight for the filaments hastening around in lantern lights and wonder. She didn’t give any indication except for the sudden onslaught of emotion – happiness, glee, some kind of satisfaction in the midst, a guttural outcry sparked by reunion, rather than abandonment.

And he drew in one more long breath, shaking his head, as they all began to dissipate and disappear. “Take that as a yes, I suppose.”

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

They follow, footstep after footstep, keeping distance just in case – not wanting anything else to go wrong (or even worse, have another lost soul ask for help in the most awkward, somewhat terrifying way). But it seems they’re safe for now, especially as the ghost begins to run, embracing the others with glee and happiness, so at odds from the teary, grief stricken mother they’d just seen not that long ago.

She sighs lightly, reaching up to rub at her head, at the horn that sprouts there as she looks back at Deimos a little sheepishly. “Never thought that could actually happen.” She says a hint wearily, exhaustion burning on the edges of her posture now. “And now I’m starving. Want to get dinner with me?” She asks, perking up with the prospect, returning to her father figure’s side to slip her arm into his.

stitch me into all your plans

He shrugged his shoulders, relieved at the sight as well; far too used to the ghosts never quite yielding away from their heartache, woe, grief, anguish, or deepest portions of abhorrence. “Nor did I, but Caido has some strange ways,” different, juxtapositioned to the way Helovia or Isilme had done. Perhaps, even after all these years, he simply presumed barbarity would be the first and foremost semblances. But now, if everything rendered correctly, their souls would flicker and depart, back to Mort’s grounds, and all the sentiments they’d ever been told would foster and glimmer.

At the sentiments of food, the Sword wouldn’t waver either. Turning back from the way they’d wandered, he jutted his jawline in the direction of the Grounds in the distance. “Of course. Lead the way.”

deimos

Never let them drain the river of your soul

kiada

A snort leaves her as she shrugs, arms folding across her chest to rub at her biceps as she flashes him a somewhat amused smile. “You could say that again.” It was strange, yes, but better than the Rift had been to her. Better than Helovia had been at the start, when she’d fallen in love with terrible gods and done horrible things to simply retain his attention.

She was different now, though, no longer seeking that attention or power – content to settle down in a cottage in the Grounds with a beautiful, charming man at her side.

Food, though, is a far more current thought that invades her mind, and she beams at him as she takes his arm to guide him toward the heart of the Grounds, telling him all about her favorite café and how he had to try it.

stitch me into all your plans