(Fledinem)
Fledinem stared at the hand that was intruding into his chest. He felt no pain. And yet, he could feel it, an icy hand clutched around his heart. His chest was numb. His lungs had frozen.
He couldn’t breathe.
The others stared at him in disbelief. Walter’s eyes were icy pinpricks of rage. With furious scream, the ghost plunged a second hand into him. Fledinem had to move, had to do something, and he was powerless as the ghost parted its hands, splitting something within him in two. He struck at Walter with his fist, but he just went right through.
He felt some defence within his mind straining to repel the intruder. He felt that defence give way.
With a yank, Walter dragged himself inside Fledinem’s body. Fledinem’s entire body went numb. Ice filled his veins, stretching to every part of him. And then, Fledinem felt his whole body go slack.
He could breathe again.
He clutched at his chest. Then looked behind him. Had the ghost gone through him? Nothing. There were nothing but shelves of books. He turned back to the others. They continued to stare, mute and horrified. He said:
“That was weir-”
His hands moved of their own volition.
Panic filled Fledinem as he watched as his arms moved completely on their own. He tried to take a step back, but his legs weren’t his own anymore either. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords remained relaxed. His entire body was no longer under his control.
His hands reached down to his backpack.
He couldn’t control his eyes. He couldn’t control his eyes. A helpless passenger, Fledinem could do nothing but watch as the hands opened the flap. He was suddenly very aware of the dagger in his gear.
His hands clutched around something.
Fledinem couldn’t even close his eyes as his body pulled out the library book, and put it tidily back on the shelf.
NOOOOOoooo!... Oh wait, what?
A wrenching sensation. A flood of warmth. Fledinem felt as the possession ended, and Walter re-entered the library. The ghost was shaking slightly, and looked almost as horrified as Fledinem.
From far away, Fledinem could faintly hear Walter saying something, as the ghost turned and looked around the room at the adventurers.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he apologised. “I don’t normally do that…”
Nobody said anything, and after a moment, Walter spoke again.
“But please please please, can we just leave all the books in the library?”
***
That was the end of orientation. Fledinem was still a little shaken as he was led by the others out of the library.
The sensation of the ghost sliding through his flesh, the icy chill…
The feeling of being a puppet, dancing on strings…
It was only when he suddenly felt sunlight on his skin that he could shake the last of the ice from his mind. He blinked. He had been led outside. The greenery of the garden surrounded him. The smells of carefully cultivated fragrances stroked his nose with a delicate caress. He could feel the wind, and the warmth of the sunlight.
He was then body-tackled by a large heap of fur.
Lupa had come barrelling around the side of the building. She had sensed his distress, and had been unable to get to him. Fledinem happily accepted the slobbery canine licks as Lupa made sure he was all right.
You were afraid, Lupa seemed to say. But now, pack is here.
He gave the wolf a tight hug. “I’m glad pack is here,” he whispered.
Someone coughed. Fledinem looked up. Dovakiin was standing there, sitting on the step of the front porch. Solstice was lurking near the door.
“I figured you might want to see your friend,” the old dragonborn said.
Fledinem felt a rush of gratitude. “Yes, that was helpful, thanks.”
“That was a damn stupid thing you just did.”
Fledinem’s brow furrowed at the sudden gear change. “Wait, what? Why? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The dragonborn’s hands were held clasped together on his lap. “You antagonised a ghost, who happens to also be the boss’ son. You deserved what you got, and honestly got off lightly.”
Fledinem’s sense of justice flared at this. “But he was the one who was being a jerk!”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re our employers. I should slap some manners into you, for disrespecting your possibly-elders.”
Solstice joined her hackles raised. “Well, why should he be polite? Turns out Jezediah Vance was keeping a pretty big secret from us! Two undead kids, just floating around the manor. Both unstable, and a hairline trigger from murderous. No one mentioned that on the way in! Don’t any of you want to talk about that?”
Dovakiin sighed. “…Yes, I'll admit, that’s pretty strange. But-”
“Strange?! Last I checked, the undead were an abomination, constantly looking to suck the life out of the living! They have to keep one upstairs away from company to keep us all alive! Isn’t that ringing any alarm bells?”
“Yeah!” said Fledinem, who was very opposed to the idea of abominations generally. “That’s right!”
“Look, I know that Reverence isn’t down for the undead,” Dovakiin said, raising his hands in a placating manner. “But let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions here! I mean, if any of my kids died and… lingered, I could definitely understand not calling in the local exorcist just like that. Sounds like they’re dealing with it.”
Solstice looked at him strangely. “Aren’t all monks in Heldsgard trained in Reverence? Why are you ok with this?”
Dovakiin looked slightly uncomfortable. “I was more always stationed in Paramount…”
“Ach, you’re all cryin’ o’er nought. That Walter ghostie is fine,” a voice sounded from the hall. Bran emerged from the shadows of the doorway, carrying a hip-flask that was took a swig from before continuing. He sounded utterly certain of what he was saying.
“That one," he continued, "he’s a button. I dunnae know about Clara, but Walter was as non-confrontational as they come. Seemed thoroughly embarrassed a’ what he’d done, just for possessin’ ya. Those aren’t the nasty kind.”
The group stared at him for a moment, before Dovakiin asked, “What’s the nasty kind?”
Bran’s eyes became hard and distant. His hand twitched slightly. “You don’t wanna know.”
He took another swig from his hipflask, and walked off.
***
(Bran)
Bran could hear the others continue to argue as he walked deeper into the manor.
He could just about hear Solstice say some vow or pledge of some kind, before storming off, but he wasn’t really listening. He shook his head sadly. That girl was going to get herself killed one day. The dragonborn had good instincts, but looked a bit rusty – trying to get back into the game. Bran liked the giant.
He shook his hipflask, and the small slopping sound that greeted him made his stomach drop. Empty already? But he wasn’t… his mind was too clear. The voices, summoned by Walter in the library were starting to get loud again. It wasn’t enough!
No, Bran, no need to panic. You’re getting lots of gold on this job. There’ll be plenty more. And in the meantime, you just need to find some in this manor. Let’s try the kitchen again.
He quickened his pace, a tear rolling down his face, and he said a silent prayer for the other adventurers that they’d never have to encounter the nasty kind of ghosts.
The kind that never left you.
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