therookery | bring out your dead

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Baroness Frédérique Durfort-Lacapalette, Brother Jehan Mercier, and Valentine Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: CHASSEURS DE FANTÔMES
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: From Kirkwall, listenable anywhere
NOTES: Your favorite people!

—will come try to stop us, [ Jehan is whispering when everyone's crystals come to life, but it's capped off with a sigh as he realizes it is too late, too late, alas. ]

They must know [Val, in a stage whisper. He hardly cares about being heard.] Inquisition. We have been in Kirkwall for how long now? Long enough that some of us have seen shades. Spirits. Ghosts.

Inquisition, these are but exaggerations. Do you know how we know this to be true? [He’ll tell you. In a second. The dramatic moment is slightly spoiled by a sudden sharp intake of breath, and a loud SPLASH.] Sacre-- the oar!

Careful! [ Freddie is there too, naturally. ] Keep it in the lock-- there. Inquisition [ she begins again in Val's place ] we have heard your tales of supposed hauntings, but we three have spent countless hours toiling in these Gallows and have not seen a thing! Not one spectral wisp! And so, you see, we cannot help but doubt. We are women--and men--of the sciences, after all. It is merely our nature.

Men and woman of the sciences, [ Jeannot corrects, because who doesn't like being corrected ] and of faith, merci, and we do not mean that anyone is lying. Of course the Veil is thin here. But surely not so thin as the stories.

And so, we have returned at night--which I am sure we can all agree is the most appropriate time for ghosts--to give the spirits the chance to prove all of you correct by revealing themselves to us.

Do not be afraid for us! This is not even the tenth most foolish we have ever been, particularly Freddie and Val, and so far as I can tell they yet survive—we would welcome advice, however. Where have you witnessed these spirits reaching through the Veil? Were you doing anything to attract their attention?

And how do we attract their attention? Tell us, so we can try for ourselves! Must we cause a great scene, and commotion? Must we SHOUT? We are willing to shout-- O, SPIRITS! HEAR US, AND APPEAR! WE WOULD WITNESS YOUR--

[ muffled muffled something like a hand has been clapped over his mouth. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ser Wren and I found a dead child in a crate the other day. The ash from the wraith took days to wash out. Happy hunting.

The ghost of a dead child, or the body?

[ Something in the way she asks makes it sound like she's taking notes. ]

Who gives a toss, we killed it.

[ Science gives a toss, Teren. ]

So it was not already dead?

[a pause.]

...maybe?

[what even is an ash wraith]

[ more slowly, as if speaking to a small (living) child ]

What did it look like? Did it look like a child?

[The tone isn't lost on its recipient.]

You want to try asking again with your head back out your arse?

I apologize, did that come through wrong?

[ if you guessed she meant her tone, you'd be wrong. Louder, and carefully enunciated to remove more of her accent: ]

WHAT DID IT LOOK LIKE? DID IT LOOK LIKE A CHILD?

[There are two potential courses of action here: Teren could get mad and yell back and lose her shit, or she could try to take control and end a bad conversation.

She's tired. Maybe the latter will have to do.]

No, it looked like a little bunny rabbit.

[ Perhaps such nonsense would dissuade some from continuing. But alas for Teren, Freddie is that particularly virulent breed of troll that is best fed by responses in kind. ]

Indeed, how singular! So it looked like a rabbit, but you divined that it was instead the spirit of a child, no doubt taken the form of a beloved pet?

No doubt.

Could it have not been the spirit of an adult with an unhealthy fixation on small animals?

It's not impossible, but I don't especially care.

(no subject)

aventuriere - 2017-04-29 20:07 (UTC) - Expand

doneisdone - 2017-04-30 19:57 (UTC) - Expand

You had such a chance, and you complain now of laundry?

Madame.

A chance to get my throat near torn out by a creature of sentient dust. Wear your good armor.

[Was this supposed to be a deterrent because Val is actually now more excited. Any ambient background rowing noise is rowing being done by his friends. He is here now to converse.]

Sentient dust, you say? But it wore the form of a child? Did it respond, at all, to questions or to attempts at making its acquaintance?

No.

[Which question she's answering, she doesn't specify. Maybe all of them. Except probably the first one, because she did say that.]

But you did say, madame.

No to everything else, then.

Then where was the sentience?

In the dust, fool boy, as I said.

A better answer. In which particles particular?

...the... dusty ones?

Ah, but dust is not made up of dust. Dust is the name that we give to the collection of particles. It is a great many things under a single name, much the way that an army is made up of divisions and ranks and classes, armed with many weapons, but called simply by a unit: an army.

We must first ask: what is dust?

[A long silence.]

...what in the name of Andraste's tits are you on about.

degenere - 2017-04-28 15:26 (UTC) - Expand

doneisdone - 2017-04-30 19:58 (UTC) - Expand

degenere - 2017-04-30 22:05 (UTC) - Expand

doneisdone - 2017-05-01 06:17 (UTC) - Expand

degenere - 2017-05-01 16:48 (UTC) - Expand