Private Tales Whisper Wind [Sable]

[Chasmine]

On the third night of her return to the Academy, she'd chosen the library.

Here a favorable medley of memories provided a refreshing drink after the dearth of melancholy. In the woods she'd come upon Everleigh Ebersol and spoke of death and freedom. In her room she'd made the acquaintance of Salak who reminded her of painful things and brought to light the stinging of grieved familiarity. So it was to the library she looked next, confident that perhaps she might find a sign of her little cat's presence.

Instead she found books, askew and untidied. Left abandoned on tables or shelves within the stacks. Even now, she could not help herself. Once she'd spent free hours organizing these very places - and so now, too, she endeavored to do the same.

Or at the very least, she would try. One book at a time, even if it took her all night. So she started with the first book and focused all her effort into putting it back where it belonged.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Even as she was now, Chasmine was not alone. In the lonely hours of her time wandering the Academy's spaces a pair of eyes watched her, curious, withdrawn. Perhaps the spectral woman would feel the weight of that gaze upon her as she sorted the library's mess, that built in instinct to question whether one was being watched persisting even in death. Or perhaps she'd hear the quiet shuffling that did not emanate from her solemn work. They were not eyes that would be familiar to Chasmine. But they were, once, to someone.

---

Sable lay on the floor of what was once his dorm room. The space had been emptied some time ago, yet miraculously none had been made to claim it yet. He'd kept the key for reasons he didn't know, and for purposes he could not explain he sometimes returned to the Academy to stare at his own ceiling. It was in these small, sleepless hours that Sable could find some small degree of peace. Of silence, away from the ever encroaching madness that pulled at the edges of his psyche. There was a comfort here.

He recalled a simpler time. When his dear friend Chasmine had popped into his room from beneath his floor and startled him to pieces. Or any of the other times she had phased through his door or ceiling or window, sometimes just to say "hello." He missed her. To date, he still did not know where she'd gone. She'd never been built for this life...perhaps she'd fled somewhere more peaceful. That was a nice thought. A comfortable thought.

Comfort surrounded Sable like a blanket. He thought more of his friends. He thought of Chas's eyes. As he drifted, so too did the image of her. From distinct to distorted. From Chasmine's to...someone else's. Who were they? Why couldn't he place it? As sleep finally took the weary warrior, he fell away thinking of those strange, familiar eyes...curious...withdrawn...

 

[Chasmine]

As she was now, Chasmine was rarely ever alone. The population of the spirit realm was unfathomable, and when she traversed areas such as the Academy that held long histories of death ... well, it was like moving among the throngs of a city quite often. Here in the library it was usually quiet and she could not say for why. Perhaps there were tomes or objects here that case a buffer of the weaker sorts. Or it might be simply that death had not been so common occurrence in this particular place.

Either way, she enjoyed the peace, even if she was not completely alone.

Practicing polter, as she had come to refer to it in her mind, with books was proving to be a trying challenge. There was not much in the way of emotional energy or warmth to tap into, which was forcing Chasmine to use her own reserves of power. Dedication to such a thing had not recently been of necessity, but Gilram probably would have said something inspiring or supportive to encourage her to keep at it. Who knew how such abilities could be of use to her in her quest to rejoin the living.

To the normal person, they would not perceive Chasmine by the table, nor see any glimpse or glimmer of a ghost. Appariting in the living realm took energy and sometimes even concentration. For now she was focusing entirely on the action of moving solid objects: namely the book sitting open on the surface before her. She reached forward, nothing more than spot of cold presence floating in the air, and envisioned herself grasping the hard,, leather bound cover in her hand.

She lifted her hand in the performance of closing it. Several pages ruffled in an non-existent breeze and fluttered in the right direction, but the book remained open.

"You are quite a lonely book," she remarked to the book, noting the crisp edges and corners of the pages. Barely used, hardly read or handled. She wondered what subject could be so scorned as to leave a book as abandoned as this one. Perhaps it only wished to spend more time with a reader, to feel wanted and appreciated. Chasmine could understand this desire on a deep, personal level and so instead of trying again, she leaned forward to read.

"Would you like to read with me?" she asked no one in particular but the presence that had been haunting her haunts.

Sable Pembroke

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Perhaps it was Chasmine's demeanor that drew the attention she'd garnered from those prying eyes. That charming, disarming whimsy she'd once radiated in life might have translated into an aura of welcoming peace in death. Whatever it was, the presence observed as she went about her polter, watching as the spectral woman whiled away at the waking world.

This limbo was so often nightmarish. Like a maddening hallucination from which a stranded soul could never wake. Purpose was difficult to recall, difficult to hang on to. The distraction of watching the books be moved about, stacked, and closed was welcome, enchanting even.

When Chasmine spoke, her ghostly words echoing out into the space between, at first the presence ducked away and hid. It was the nature of the entity, to fear and to hide. It no longer knew why exactly, but doing so had meant safety. And yet...

...Would you like to read with me?...​

 

[Isabelle]

The shadows within the library coalesced. From around corners of bookshelves and under tables they slithered together and pooled on the floor beside Chasmine. Slowly they burbled upwards and took shape. A shape they had not taken in some time, a fragment of a distant memory.

A solid black form manifested, human in shape, but small and lacking most distinct features. Long, messy, white hair unfurled, and the head of the form shook it about as it fell into place. A white covering also fell over the form's body, like a silk night gown or a shirt that was too big.

At last the entity opened its eyes. A hollow, white stare that bore into Chasmine with prying, deep curiosity. A shade, Chasmine might have known the little thing as, in the shape of a young girl. She looked up at Chasmine and blinked, then turned towards the table, put her hands on its edge, and peered over at the book.

She did want to read with her.

 

[Chasmine]

A shade. How curious. Usually they were quite menacing things, but this one was diminutive and quiet. Chasmine's spectral self looked to it as they shared the space by the table in the spirit realm, a place where they could see one another as plainly as a living person might see a bird in a tree.

The geist smiled calmly as it took in the presence of what she surmised to be a youth - shades were a bit more difficult to tell and often they presented themselves as something other than their true forms. Either way, Chas was content to have the company of a well-behaved spirit. Especially one that wanted to read.

"One reader brings a book contentment, two gives it a home." Perhaps after they both shared some pages, the book would be willing to close and return to its slumber a bit more at peace with the world.

And so they read together in silence, filling the pages with spiritual warmth. Chasmine waited until the shade had finished before gesturing to the book and turning the page. With each turn the action became easier, the parchment more familiar like a new home might with time and personal touches. After finishing a chapter she felt sure of their connection and, with a quiet thank you to the book reached to close it.

The book closed easily and with a sigh from its pages.

"Now to put it back," she said to her companion, "will you help me?"

 

[Isabelle]

The little shade cocked her head at the statement, but seemed to understand well enough. It didn't speak, but its feelings could be felt. In the minutes that followed there was contentment and peace, but always the lingering notion of fear. At a moment's notice, the shade was ready to bolt back to where it had come from, dispersing its form and hiding once again. For now, though, Chasmine had calmed it.

"will you help me?"​

Again she turned her head and blinked at Chasmine. Then back to the book. The shade slid beneath the table and put her arms up. Inky fingers phased through the tabletop around the book's edges, and the shade began to try to carry it. Like Chasmine, her ability to effect the physical world seemed limited, but the meaning was silently expressed all the same:

*...Okay...*

 

[Chasmine]

It was the intent and thought that counted the most here. Chasmine's ghostly expression leavened at the obvious enthusiasm, and carrying that same energy through her own gesture she leaned to lift the book.

In the living realm, the book slowly began to hover mid-air, and as the two spirits worked together it followed a journey away from the table and down the stacks.

About halfway to its destination, a student walked in to the library. Now, given the nature of things at the Academy, something so mundane as a floating book would hardly cause a stir. With the variety of powers in magic at play here, there might be a handful of students who could manage such a thing.

"H-hello?" said the Initiate after coming to an abrupt stop.

The book dropped almost immediately as the nature of concentrative effort broke.

"Maz, is that you?" the telekinetic could certainly be playing tricks, though tricks wasn't really Maseno's speed.

Silence. The library was quite still. The student looked around suspiciously, Chasmine detected his growing anxiety and latched onto it. Much as she disliked causing fear in others, it was a powerful emotion to harness and might just be the ticket to getting the rest of these books put away. She moved towards him, still yet unseen but certainly felt. The student gave a sudden, unexpected shiver and took a step back as all the hairs on their arms and back of their neck stood on end.

"This isn't funny! Stop fucking around!"

"Would you like to read this book?" Chasmine asked curiously, her disembodied voice echoing faintly toward him as she moved to pick it up again. To his eyes the book lifted off the ground of its own accord.

"Here," she said and began to move toward him, and the heightened sense of fear he emanated bolstered her presence to the point that she became an apparition within the living realm. A ghost of Chasmine Grey.

"You-" he gasped, eyes growing wide, "you're dead!"

Chasmine looked down at herself with curious delight as if he'd remarked on a haircut, "Yes, thank you for noticing."

The boy yelped, dropped all his things, and took off back out of the library yelling about ghost girl.

 

[Isabelle]

"H-hello?"

In an instant, the shade sunk into a puddle and slid beneath a bookshelf. From beneath it peered out, naught more than an inky blob with spotlight eyes, interested in what might unfold but too afraid to be fully "present." The little shade observed as Chasmine dealt with the intruder quite handily and, when all was said and done, she slithered out and returned to her childlike form.

The shade then ambled over to Chasmine and tugged on the leg of whatever clothes her spectral form had manifested. When the shade was sure she had Chasmine's attention, she raised her hands above her head and gave the young woman a tiny applause.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Sleep, of course, never lasted long. Sable was soon ripped from the comfort of its depths by muffled shouting.

"G-ghost! Ghost girl, in-in-in the library! Holy shit!"

He groaned as he pulled himself off the floor and into a fetal ball, still in the waking process. "Ghost girl?" Even in his groggy state there was both nostalgia and curiosity to be found in that phrase. A distant memory from a simpler time called out to him: a time in the quad where he'd asked Chasmine about her otherworldly sightings around the school.

That's right...he'd asked about...the ghost of a little girl...? But why? He could feel his temples tightening for even trying to prod at the question. The initiate that had gone running and shouting had probably just gotten spooked about...well, who knew? A reflection and a breeze, maybe? Even still, there was something about the words that made him want to see for himself...even if it was only to gain some foolish form of closure.

Thus, the young Dreadlord stood and walked into the lonely midnight halls...

 

[Chasmine]

The tug on her robes was an odd feeling. Sensation as a spirit didn't quite translate the way it did with living flesh. It felt more like a tingle of energy but still garnered the same response. Her pale faced turned to look down at her little shade companion, a smile slowly blooming in place of the frown the departure of the Initiate have left behind.

"Perhaps it was the wrong book?" she queried as she looked down to the book in her ghostly hands, "What a shame. I thought the Theory of Conductive Morphological Magic was quite interesting."

Ah well. A book for every reader but not always a reader for every book. At least this one had them for a short time.

"Shall we?" she asked the shade, holding the book out once more for her assistance in putting it away.

 

[Isabelle]

The shade continued its silent, inquisitive stare at Chasmine, but something resembling the flicker of contentment, like her own form of a smile, could be felt in the air. Once again the little entity did its best to aid her new acquaintance, this time pooling on the floor beneath the book before rising up, lifting the book with her stubby, childish hands.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Familiarity and an odd, buzzing discomfort mixed within Sable's head like cream in coffee. Something was amiss, he just couldn't place it. Not yet, anyways.

The library had long been a refuge for Sable in his time at the Academy. Avid reader that he was, he took comfort in both fairy tales and historical epics that lined the archive's shelves. Diving into those stories were one of the things that inspired him to be what he had tried to be for so many years. A protector...ha!

What a naive notion that had been. Time had proven again and again that defending others was not Sable's calling. The dull throbbing in his head began to return. The closer he got to the library, the worse it got. Hopefully he'd have his answers soon, then he could go back to his floor and try to garner what fleeting moments of peace he could.

He looked ahead. In the pale moonlight that filtered through the Academy's stained glass windows, he could see the great, oaken doors that lead to the familiar hall of books. Not much further now...

 

[Chasmine]

Though the effort to move a book was quite a feat for a ghost and a shade, they managed to do it. In the dimness of the barely-illuminated Library, the ghost looked up at the book on its shelf with a sense of somber contentment. Perhaps it mirrored that which she thought the book might, too, be feeling. Now a chapter more read than not, and snugly tucked in between its neighboring tomes, right where it belonged.

Belonging ... a notion she was not personally familiar with. Not even yet among those who lived under the wing of Gilram. Not even here in the place she once called home. How simple a life it was for a book to know it, and yet perhaps so fleeting as it was taken into the next set of hands to be used, abused, abandoned and likely rarely brought back home.

"Shall we help another?" she asked the shade, and so to work they went.

One book after another, home again home again jiggity-jig.

 

[Isabelle]

The little shade stared at Chasmine blankly, then began to dutifully and eagerly continue aiding her new acquaintance. For the moment, there was peace and contentment.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Not to last.

Sable reached the door to the library and placed his hand on it. A chill ran through him. What exactly had the manic initiate fleeing down the hall seen here? And why was Sable suddenly...what, was that anxiety he was feeling?

He shook his head and pushed his way inside.

The moment he did, the shade once again sank into a puddle and vanished into one of her hiding spots, and the book it and the ghost had been moving tumbled to the floor and landed with a dull thud.

Sable blinked. He'd definitely just seen an object suspended in the air, however briefly. Perhaps that initiate hadn't been too far off base. He hadn't had the foresight to bring a weapon with him, so instead he muttered under his breath, citing his usual incantations. Amber barriers coated his fists a moment later, sparking to life from the aether what was effectively a pair of magic knuckle dusters.

The towering young man stepped cautiously into the room, eyes darting about as dread filled his stomach.
"Who goes there?" he asked with all the authority he could muster. "You're not supposed to be in here at this hour."

Surely just another initiate fooling around...right?

 

[Chasmine]

Seemed they were destined to be interrupted tonight. The presence of Chasmine had followed the journey of the book back to the floor as her little shade once more pulled back to the shadows. Quite the flighty little thing, but such were the way of shades. Mischievous, aloof, sometimes shy. Chas leaned down to retrieve it, grasping the book about the edges and lifting it once more from the floor.

To Sable, the book lifted from the ground seemingly of its own accord and floated there in the air, middling height.

Chasmine blinked as she looked to the new person, their tall silhouette and the color of their spirit quite unmistakable to her.

"My apologies Sable," said her disembodied voice gently, "it seems I have lost track of the hour."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

The book once again lofted upwards, and Sable took a guarded stance. Something was clearly afoot here, but--

"My apologies Sable, it seems I have lost track of the hour."

His body went rigid and his brow fell. That same chill from before ran through every fiber of his being. A voice...familiar, unmistakable. Surely this was a trick, but...if it wasn't...

Sable's throat was rough and parched, he realized as he tried to croak out a single word.

"...Chas?..."

 

[Chasmine]

The book floated. The silence stretched. A sense of patience lingered amidst the coldness of the air surrounding it.

"I am hesitant to offer you this book. The last person ran off and I should very much like for you to stay a while. I could use some help with the books on the higher shelves and you are quite tall like Kristen."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

A sound emanated from Sable's chest, somewhere half between a laugh and a scoff, but wholly exasperated all the same. Yeah, that was Chasmine alright. That didn't make this situation any less confusing, but she'd always had a penchant for her spectral magic.

"Chas, uh...I'm not going to run off, no. What's going on? Are you using some kind of invisibility magic? Where are you? Where have you been? I thought you'd abandoned us, or--gods, I have so many questions..."

 

[Chasmine]

He wouldn't see it, but she smiled ever so faintly to hear he would not run off. Of course, how silly of her. Sable was strong and courageous, she could not recall ever seeing him run from anything.

"Invisibility?" she asked, looking down at herself, "No, I am merely focused on my task."

In the air the book shifted, then began gently bobbing down the aisle, "Curious, I do not recall this many books being left out before."

 

[Sable Pembroke]

As fanciful as ever...

"Your...task. Putting books away? Why can't I see you?"

He stepped around the corner of the aisle to continue observing the book as it hung in the air. It definitely seemed like she was carrying it, but Chasmine was decidedly not there. Even despite how decidedly strange this all was, Sable felt the most lucid he had in months. Just hearing Chas' voice was calming...

"Oh, yeah, the Academy has been fairly short staffed since the Bloody Graduation...I think the old curator is gone now."

 

[Chasmine]

The book turned down into a row of stacks, coming to a pause just near the end as Chasmine turned to face the shelves. Slowly, carefully, she maneuvered the book up to slide it into its open place there.

"Manipulating objects in the living realm takes a lot of energy and focus. There is not much energy here for me to draw from, not even the warmth of a fire in the hearth and I have already used the last boy's fear to show myself to him."

That emotional energy had since siphoned off.

Sable would then feel that overwhelming coldness pass through him, like a brain freeze setting upon his entire body, as Chasmine returned back to the main aisle for her next literary quarry.

"I see," she replied in regards to the Curator, "hopefully a new one will be assigned soon. I cannot stay to fulfill the task much longer."

Another book in another side row of stacks, left open on the holding shelf at the end. The pages began to listlessly turn, "Are you a Proctor now?"

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Chasmine's words tumbled through Sable's head like a ton of bricks down the side of a mountain, and his heart sank lower than he thought possible. The chill he had earlier hitting its crescendo as he felt something pass through him drove him even lower. Not something. Someone. Chasmine. He turned to follow where the cold had went.

"'Living realm'...Chas...are you...dead?"

He couldn't even focus on the question she'd quickly followed up with.

 

[Chasmine]

"Indeed," Chasmine replied brightly, as if Sable had told her a book was quite noble or interesting.

"You seem surprised," she followed up after a moment of pause, "curious. Everyone at the Academy was so certain this was my fate, and yet surprised to learn that it has come to pass."