What Strange Mentors We Become

[Iriah Caitrak]

(Closed)


It still smelt of burnt wood. The fire must have been years ago but she could still smell it. When her fingers brushed against the charred wood they came away coated in the black substance. There was little left of what the building had once been. Some of the walls had been completely devoured by the fire that had ravished this place, leaving gaping holes leading into other rooms with only the charred sticks of what was once furniture. Ash was heavy on the ground and her sure steps left a clear trail from the crumbling front entrance to where she was now, what could have been a kitchen. Truly it was not the safest building for her to be walking through and the wood beneath her feet gave testament to that when it groaned with her every step. Ira was just brave and stupid enough to throw caution to the wind though and ignore the signs around her; after all she could feel lost souls within these walls. So what if the building appeared to be falling apart under its own weight, she had a job to do and a few creaking old boards were not going to stop her. The floor collapsing beneath her might, but that had yet to happen so for the time being she was safe, at least from splinters.

Turning from the remains of the blackened kitchen, Ira turned left down the hallway, peering into rooms as she walked by them but seeing nothing of any interest. They were just empty rooms with vague reminders of what they once were. It looked like just another one of the hundreds of slowly decaying homes in this area of Radasanth. There were souls in here though. They were weak she could just barely feel them, which meant they were close to being pulled into Purgatory, but they were here.

From the silence that covered the house like a thick fog, a set of footsteps echoed loudly throughout the top floor. They sounded in quick succession, like small feet running across the floor. Watching the dust and ash filter down from the ceiling and dance among the beams of light filtering in through the broken windows and holes. Keeping her eyes of the ceiling until the noise stopped, Ira briskly moved through the house, trying to find a staircase to the upper floor. Unfortunately, the only one she could find had been partially destroyed in the fire.

Not letting that stop her, the Calerian jumped up and grabbed unto the last remaining bottom step. It crumbled and splintered under her weight, sending her falling back down to the floor with a loud thud and the sound of more splintering wood as one of her feet went through the floor. Cursing her luck in a language no one in this region understood but her, Ira pulled her leg from the hole in the floor, grateful for her plated leather boots that kept the splintered shards of wood from digging into her flesh. Standing up and brushing all the ash from what had been her nice clean clothes, Ira took a deep breath and tried again. This time when her fingers grabbing at the wood it didn’t break, it protested her weight but held together as she hoisted herself up. Men made this look so easy, but pulling up your own body weight by only your hands was certainly not the simplest task. In fact, but the time Ira had herself completely on the second floor and rolled onto her back, her arms were protesting, her heart was hammering away in her chest and she was breathing rather heavily. Sometimes she hated men and the advantage they had in upper body strength and that sometime was right now.

Taking a few deep breaths and giving her muscles a moment to recuperate—honestly she didn’t think she weighed that much but clearly her arms thought something different—Ira eventually sat up. Turning her head she saw a little girl, maybe six or seven, in what had once been a beautiful dress now burnt at the edges and left in rags. Her skin was smudged with soot and ash and there were streaks running down her cheeks, most likely from her tears. Turning from Ira, the little girl ran from the room and into the darkness of the hallway.

“Wait!”

But she didn’t stop; in fact Ira could still hear her little feet pounding against the wood as she ran. Scrambling to her feet as fast as she could, Ira made it for the hallway but by the time she got there the girl was gone and she didn’t know where she went. She’d have to search the entire upper floor to find her.

[Shadow Reaper]

Sounds drifted through the shadows.

Quiet rumblings and the thuds of small footfalls.
There had been a voice.

In the darkness of a partially caved in cellar something large but insubstantial shifts position. The shadows themselves drifting apart and together in the shape of a form. A slit of crimson the only patch of colour in a place that had not seen anything near so vibrant for many a year.

Movement..
Life?

Run.. fear.. fear..

..Fading..

Within the black two long triangular shadows swept forwards, trailing wisps of the darkness about them as the figure listened to the voices around it.
One of the sparks was moving... A small one.

It runs.. chase.. take.. take..

..Ours.. Fading..

Sceadu grumbled somewhat to itself mentally as the Dark Places continued to whisper their repetitive messages with seemingly no purpose.
It knew this information already.

From even before it had chosen to take refuge within the abandoned building the Dark Places had been whispering word of the life sparks that drifted about and within the nearby areas. The information was nothing important. The wisps of life held nothing of benefit for Sceadu. It knew this from previous encounters with such things. Even some that held a stronger life beat than the ones here had proven themselves useless.

For the most part the wisps ran (or floated as was often the case) from the presence of the shadow form creature. Like so many small beasts the things did not take kindly to Sceadu’s presence and fled from it at the first sign.
It was only those few others who did not run that were of any interest and those more often than not became a pain and a bother. Those that came forwards remained close as if wanting something, begging, pleading in their silent ways. Until it was that Sceadu fled their presence itself. For from deep within itself a feeling stirred at those times when the figures remained close, a feeling unknown and strange. So from a lack of knowledge and understanding doubts and fear overcame it, and thus it ran...

Small.. run.. run..


Life! Strong!

The shadows shift, decrepit walls and tumbled masonry being masked with thicker darkness as the last words gain the shadow creature’s interest. Jaws slightly ajar with words now lost, Sceadu listens instead.

Fear.. small... spark.. light.. It fades.. fades..

Large..


Life!

As ever the Dark Places are vague and unhelpful with their whispers and mutterings.

From the darkness the shadows seem to sigh without wind or sound.
You remain unhelpful!
Where? What is the life? Are you speaking of a wisp or something else? Be more helpful for once! Sceadu’s own unspoken words hiss at the Dark Places in irritation as it continues to shift, adjusting itself to stretch it’s own senses out to ‘see’ what it can. Such limited range results in nothing of substance. Too deep within the depths of the burnt out building the shadow creature cannot reach to where the Dark Places hint there is something of interest as it moves further in places above.

So the dark shifts and fades as the shadows move. The air becoming less solid down there deep within the crumbling cellar as the figure that had been resting fills what’s left of an entrance before moving on.

Sceadu shall go see what the Dark Places are whispering of for itself.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Cursing the luck she’d been bestowed, the Calerian warrior took a few careful steps along the floor. The wood groaned and even cracked a few times, but it seemed stable enough. It could groan, creak and crack all it wanted to as long as it didn’t give beneath her weight. The last thing she needed was to fall through the floor and break something when she hit the ground level, or worse, break through that floor as well. No wonder her tribe didn’t build a second story to their homes. If someone wanted more space in their home they expanded and just made it bigger. Other cultures seemed to have this odd fascination with testing the limits of gravity and placing as many stories as they could on top of each other. She’d seen it in Irrakam too, though she had to admit, stone homes were a lot more stable than wooden ones.

Moving into the hallway, Ira had to feel her way along the walls until her adjusted to the lack of light. Even then, it was still hard to see. Many of the rooms had at least one window in them. Some were others, others grimy beyond all hope of cleaning. But they still allowed broken beams of sunlight to filter in. It was a blessing to her eyes that were not made to see in total darkness.

Slipping into one of the rooms, Ira looked around at the burnt furniture. The remains of a bed were pushed against the one wall, the frame crumbling and falling in on itself. There was debris all over the room, some of it so charred she couldn’t even recognize. Her eyes stopped her sweep of the room when she spotted the same girl sitting in the corner with her knees tucked up tightly against her chest. She was clutching the remnants of what Ira guessed to be a doll and her eyes were closely observing her, as if waiting for her to do something.

Children were always the hardest. Sometimes they didn’t even realize they were dead. Their minds couldn’t fully grasp it. She’d seen ones that screamed endlessly for their parents, parents who were either also dead or who just couldn’t hear their cries anymore. It was heart breaking.

Taking a few steps towards the girl, Ira came to an abrupt stop when she suddenly stood up, every muscle in her tiny body saying it was ready for when she moved to flee.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” Ira didn’t know what to say to her.

The little girl didn’t say anything back to her; she just continued to watch Ira as she slowly began taking steps to the side. Suddenly without warning, she ran for the door, the patch of which was blocked by Ira. Instead of stopping or trying to manoeuvre around her, she just passed right through Ira, which elicited a curse of the Calerian.

“I hate it when they do that!”

Turning on her heel, the Calerian bolted from the room and followed after the girl. Her tiny feet carried her much faster than they ever could have in life and Ira had a hard time keeping up, especially since she worried every step would break the floor beneath her. But it didn’t. The girl didn’t run for long. She led Ira down the hallway and then turned right. Just as the Calerian rounded the corner she watched her disappear through the open door of another random room. Quickly following after her, Ira rushed through the open door only to have to come to an abrupt stop. The floor of the room had been partially demolished by a beam of wood that had crashed through it.

Regaining her balance, Ira looked across the room to see the girl huddling behind the larger form of what could only be her brother. A few years older than her, her had a protective arm around her shoulders as he glared at Ira from the other side of the room.

“Leave, this is our home!”

For such a small person, he voice echoed throughout the room and demanded that she listen to him. But it would take more than a brave voice to get Ira to leave.

“This isn’t your home anymore…” She tried to keep her voice gentle, the last thing she needed was to fight a child or even have them run away on her again.

“Yes it is, now leave!”

Ira sighed; she didn’t know how to deal with this. Adult spirits were easier, children were far too innocent. “Don’t you know that staying here is hurting your sister? I can tell you promised to protect and keep her safe the way you shield her from me but staying here isn’t good for either of you.”

“You’re lying, we’re fine here!”

No they weren’t. They were close to being pulled into Purgatory. “Don’t you feel that tug on your heart? It was barely noticeable at first but it’s been getting stronger hasn’t it?” He hesitated but the little girl behind him nodded her head, “Soon you wont be able to fight against it anymore and then you’ll be taken to a place of sadness and loneliness.” That was a friendlier version of what would happen to them, but Ira couldn’t very well say they’d lose their humanity and turn into monsters.

“You can make it go away?”

Ira nodded her head, she could, but they’d also go away.

“Can you really?”

Ira glanced down at the little girl. It was the first time she’d heard her speak and her voice sounded so meek and unsure of herself it made Ira want to scoop her up in her arms and hug her.

“I can…”

The little girl smiled and grabbed her brother’s hand, leading him across the broken expanse of floor towards Ira with a large smile on her face. Her brother seemed less certain but he went anyway.

“How do you do it?”

The Calerian couldn’t very well form one of her weapons and attack them, that would be traumatizing and cruel. But she didn’t have to attack them in order to send them to their rightful resting place; anything formed by the Irenian crystal had the ability to do that. It didn’t have to be in the form of a weapon.

Creating two small, spheres that looks like crystals, Ira knelt down and handed one to each of them. “You see those black holes on your chest.” The two children nodded their head, “Drop these into them.”

They hesitated, looking at each other before dropping the spheres through the blackness in their chests. Standing up, Ira watched as their souls faded and turned into small black and red butterflies before those two disappeared. They were off to Sanctuary and safe from Purgatory.

[Shadow Reaper]

Movement.
Lots of movement.

Run.. run.. Fast.. Going!

Yes, it gets that. There’s someone else within the building. A non-wispy thing among the lesser beings. The Dark Places don’t really need to keep repeating such things over and over. Sceadu gets it.

Together.. One.. one.. Now..
Fear..

..Together

A pause in the shadows, the darkness stops moving for a moment.

“-our home!”

Above, higher.
A change of direction as the figure shifts once more. Slipping from one shadow to another with purpose the large blur of black makes its way through bare and burnt remains in search of the best access to the realm above.
Broken, empty.. Bother.

Angry!.. Bright!

Fear! Fear!

Finally. A way up.
A stretching of senses through the shadows of the burnt out room gives hints of a past Sceadu has no interest in. A kitchen of once heavy use and where likely the fire made a life of it’s own for a short while. Not much to be spoken of now, with mostly charred dust and a few hints of burnt wood that may of been table or chair at some point past. Counters gone, a few metallic and pewter items broken beyond repair and little else. No, nothing of importance there.

Stretching a little the shadowform body slips past partially rotted wood and upwards into pitch black. This is the way to go. A dumbwaiter to the level above. Sure, there’s more than one spot where things obstruct the passage up. But when you’re insubstantial and your form is not limited to certain dimensions, such things are not such a bother. Using these various bits of debris as platforms Sceadu makes it’s way up the small passage. Really, it’s a bit more of a tight squeeze than it would of liked but this is the quickest way just now.

Close.. close.. Quiet..

Going... going!


..Quick! Quick!

Now what are the Dark Places hissing about? A burst of speed and the thicker darkness approaches a shaft of light. Consistency changes as a large red eye peers out into the lit world beyond the dumbwaiter’s door. A figure.

Well it could be a figure. There’s little more than glimpses of movement at this angle. Bother. Is this what the Dark Places are going on about? They don’t seem anything special to Sceadu. But then Sceadu can’t even really see them at this point.

Light!
Light!

A silent hiss escapes the darkness as it flows out of the small entrance it had been confined behind. If Sceadu’s going to see what the fuss is about it will need to be closer and well, being out in the hall as opposed to down there in the cramped shaft helps things.

In the hall now stands the shadow of a beast. Or more a beast of shadow.
Something that fills space no matter how large and open it may be, merely with it’s presence. The fact that once you look deep into the darkness it stands within and start to discern a figure with claws and teeth more than capable of rendering you gutless, well, you probably feel you want that space you think it’s taking up back. Ah well.

With the body facing the other way Sceadu changes.

No longer is there the beast but, well, not quite a boy but a young man. The shadows have moved, condensed down into a small more confined shape. They’ve compiled themselves together, moving, twisting and reshaping themselves to gain colour and thickness.
No longer do wisps of darkness float about the form. No longer does the figure bleed into the shadows around it.

Before he’s even done J is walking out of the darker patch of the decrepit hall, off towards the open doorway where the Dark Places are now yelling at him from. Silent steps that should really be creaking under his supposed weight lead him forwards. Nothing but the shadows behind him disturbed in his wake. Really, that dust should have footprints, those dust motes should be swirled as he passes that patch of light, but no, nothing. J leaves no impression on the world around him past an impression of something more, or perhaps less, than a presence.

Going! Going! Too late!

TOO LATE!

J stumbles at the sudden blast of not sound to his senses and almost loses his form. For a moment the consistency disappears. The rather pretty male figure becoming almost as transparent as the ghosts before he’s able to pull himself together again.

Bother.

What was that all about then?

Then there’s a very very strange feeling that tugs at something deep within J.
He mouths silently as he curls in on of himself. Clutching at his own form before stretching out again forwards to where the human figure stands itself. What has it done?

The Dark Places are screaming at him. On and on, endlessly, without pause.

‘Shut up! Shut up! I can’ t do nothing with your noise within me! SHUT UP!’Silent cries go unheard. The Dark Places listen no more than they ever do. Continuing with their cries until finally he can manage to shut them out with a shaky barrier erected in his mind. Thrown up instinctively as defence against the noise. J finally gives himself some peace, even if it’s not exactly stable.
A shake of his head and J looks up. The back of the figure he'd come up to see stands before him now within the room he now blocks the doorway of.

“W-what did you do..?”

He can’t help it. His form is momentarily unstable and the press of shadows required to cause sound are out of alignment and thus his voice shakes. Really, had there been colour in his face to start with it’d probably be lost just now. J’s not his usual self here. There’s none of the happy bubbly body that makes up so much of the human personas of Sceadu.
Instead the pretty boy face looks at the other with a seriousness seen by few of those he’s come across in his short life.

For a moment he looks past the woman to the empty room beyond to scan about. “There were others..” He’d gotten that much before the Dark Places over whelmed him with their voices. That and he can feel it himself, from that same funny place within that had reacted so badly a moment ago to he’s not quite sure what.

Crimson gaze turns back to the living body and frowns. Eyes steady for once he stares at her intently. He doesn’t care just now if she gets lost in his depthless gaze, he wants answers.

“What did you do?”

J stands there. Very much out of place in his surroundings. Then again a spotlessly clean, dirty blonde mop headed, barefooted, pretty boy doesn’t really look in place almost anywhere you’d go.
It doesn’t really help that he’s still a bit shaky and at the edges of his appearance shadow bits keep flickering out to their brothers nearby. That and he doesn’t cast his own shadow among many other things.. Ah well. Maybe none of that’ll be noticed with the whole sudden appearance and the unwavering gaze staring at the lady with the rather accusing question.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She should have been paying more attention to everything around her. Somehow, the presence of another had slipped by her senses and even though she had been momentarily overwhelmed by the sense of the two souls moving on, she couldn’t forgive herself for it. This was her job and months without a single mission had made her rusty, which should never happen. If it had been a Fallen, she would be dead by now. With her back to the creature, it would have surely attacked her and she, being too lost in completing a simple job and freeing two souls would have been none the wiser.

Ira spun around on her heel the moment the wavering voice echoed throughout the silence. Her heart leapt into her throat and lodged itself in her airway, making it hard for her to breath. What she perceived behind her would have been confusing to even the most hardened Calerian warrior. The young man was like no soul she’d ever seen before, even the most corporeal, but her senses fought against her on this one and would not concede to him being a soul. There was no black hole in the centre of his chest where heart and humanity lay on a soul. But there was something not exactly right about him. He looked like a young man in every way, a barefoot young man, but he didn’t even seem fully human. One thing Ira was certain of, she’d never sensed or seen anything like this before.

He had a soul, there was no doubt about it, but it felt…powerful to her. She couldn’t properly describe it, but there were abilities in this man that he himself was probably not aware of. But what was he? His body said human, but the fact that pieces of his form kept flaking off around the edges and disappearing into the shadows as if they were calling to him said otherwise. And then there were his eyes. They were a colour she’d only seen Calerian’s have, a colour that was unnatural to most humans. His were depthless as well, a person could get lost in them but not Ira. It would take more than a serious glare and bright eyes that tried to be cold for her. If she could withstand a cold and emotionless glare from Malagen, she’d have no problem with anyone else, especially this man before her.

Crossing her arms under her chest, Ira finally answered the man, “I released them.” It was as simple as that, she really had, but he would probably not understand this. The most interesting part to her though, was the fact that he had been able to sense them to begin with.

Calerians were a race born for that. To sense, seek out and free souls from Purgatory. How or why was beyond her understanding and she was pretty sure everyone else’s in the tribe. But that was not their concern, they did their job. There were of course few humans who were sporadically born with the ability to see souls, or ghosts as they call them. They can’t release them because they don’t know how but they can sense them, see them from time to time and even talk to them. Ira was still unsure if this man was even human, but it was apparent he had some kind of ability when it came to the dead.

“They have moved on to their rightful resting place, as all souls should.” Perhaps he was some kind of soul she’d never seen before. He didn’t appear to be completely whole. Perhaps he was just looking for a release of his own and if that was truly the case, Ira could indeed help him.

She wanted to straight out ask him what he was, but she couldn’t. Her mouth opened to do so but quickly closed. So instead she continued to observe him, waiting for his next move. If he tried to attack her she was ready and waiting for him, if not, well, she didn’t know what then.

[Shadow Reaper]

There is no mind of attacking from the shadow formed man.

Such a very pointless human endeavour really. So far J has yet to find himself harmed by another in a combatant manner. When your opponent passes straight through you and has nothing of which to take a hold of your form, well, you tend to find the whole situation more amusing than dangerous. J holds no fear of the vast majority of those around him, thusly he doesn’t feel threatened and has no need from which to attack. So really, it’s not something to even pass through his mind. J’s yet to learn that threatening is a way in which to get things done. Probably a good thing really.

“Released..?
..How? Why? What for?”

The intense stare remains on the woman though the glower itself is beginning to fade. The tingles are nearly gone now, his form is more solid and he’s no longer so uneasy. Sure, the Dark Places are still clambering against his hastily erected defences but they’re not of consequence just yet.

Mind buzzing, J steps closer to the woman, coming from out of the doorway as he approaches. Not the least bit mindful of her defensive stature or the possible threat she could presume of him. Two years of existence, half in limited confinement means that J’s social skills and ability to read people is somewhat lacking, to put it nicely.

“They’re gone.. “
Finally he actually turns his gaze from the woman and throughout the room once more. Staring intently into the shadows and seeking anything within. Completely ignoring the fact half the floor is missing, it doesn’t even get a moments glance before he’s back to the woman again. There’s nothing more than hints of what was. There’s no longer anything there.
“The wisps, you disappeared them. Why? How? Where?” There’s curiosity pulling strongly within J as footsteps take him closer to the woman still, questions again running loose from his mouth.

He’s caught up short by the woman’s last statement though and the pretty boy face that had been angry not so long ago drops all hints of expression. A lack of understanding wiping blank the expressive plate of his face as he pauses in his step. “Rightfully resting?” A slight frown creases his brow, crimson gaze drifting a moment, then returning, questioning. “There is a place in which to wrongfully rest? Why? Was it here? Why is it wrong?” Evidently the proper meaning behind such a statement is lost on the young man.

J has been resting here but minutes ago. Escaping the hectic life of the city and it’s many many lives. Has he done something wrong in choosing this place? Can this woman make him disappear as well? A half step back as a flicker of unease runs through his inner being. He doesn’t want to be made to disappear as the wisps have. The uncertainty and unease is as plain as the accusations of earlier, J is not one to hide his thoughts and feelings. “Have I rested wrongfull-“

-No.. !

Wrong! Wrong!
NO!

A flinch as with a blank mind the Dark Places find a way through J’s defences and scream within him. Warring at him against the human form, screaming things in their twisted whispered ways, flooding his mind before he can push them out again. Irises gloss over a solid black as for an instant they overwhelm him.

LIES! Light! Lies!
... Taking ours!

OURS!
Make it GO!

OURS-!
-GIVE BACK! OURS!

So many voices. So many whispers clambering to be heard above each other. All crying for things J has no true understanding of, abilities and actions that the Dark Places no more than hint at.
Frustration mounts, building as it always does when the Dark Places tease so. Tease and taunt him who knows no better, who can do nothing about it of his own accord.


He snaps.


“BE GONE! I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR WORDS!”

This time the cries fill more than just J’s own head. The words ripple outwards, disturbing not the air but the shadows themselves, sending them dancing with movement about their many resting places within the still room.

The Dark Places flee.

Shaking, consistency wavering, colours faded with grey overtones masking his entire form, J attempts to pull himself together again. It’s a little harder this time and he’s of an instinct to revert to his proper form, but there’s more to be said with questions to be asked that the Dark Places have aroused of him further. They don’t like this woman. Why? What is it about her that riles them so?

With the shadows receding, unmasking the red within his eyes, crimson returns to his gaze as the young man looks at the woman. There’s perhaps something a little sheepish there. It’s unlikely that such an outburst is received well, not so close and he does not wish for her to run off just yet. Honestly, it wasn’t intentional, just there’s no talking to the Dark Places. They never listen, one must be forceful with them to get anything. Even then it is unlikely you will get anything useable of them past riddles and roundabout words.

“They don’t like you,” a quirk to his lips as a slender hand waves to the shadows around them, his form straightening to something less tensed. Beyond his hand some of the shadows still quiver in aftershock of the outburst. With no actual movement within the room of the solid objects themselves it’s somewhat of an odd effect. Well, to your typical sort anyway. J’s used to the shadows moving of their own accord within his presence. After all they’ve life of their own, as proved by his own existence.

He steps closer, bare foot to dusty floor, “Why don’t they like you? Have you done something to anger them? Are you special?” Perhaps he should be more wary. After all, the Dark Places have heeded him caution deservedly at other times. But then, there are those others again when they have screamed and wailed as before with nothing to be fearful of. They are fanciful guardians, with few words of useful advice and only begrudging trusted for they are unable to be gotten rid of.

“Who are you? What are you? Why do they call against you? Are you harmful to them?” Unlike the woman, J has no compunction against speaking his mind. For that matter it’s a habit that tends to bring him his worst troubles out here in the world. Oh well, at least with his rather childlike manner with the wide eyes and innocent tone he’s got the appearance of one less threatening, if somewhat odd in of himself.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Wisps?

Ira assumed that he was referring to the souls of the two children. She had never heard of them being called wisps before, perhaps that was just another human term for ghost.

The young man before her had a multitude of questions and no reservations about how many he asked her at the same time. It seemed that he was thinking aloud rather than actually asking her, or that he was asking both her and himself the questions at the same time attempting to figure out the riddle before she could answer him. He truly was an interesting character and the longer she stood there watching him the more she was certain he was not a lost soul. His form was slowly growing more and more solid the longer he stood before her, as if he was controlling it in a way and making it, almost like she controlled energy and created objects.

He was also slowly coming closer to closer to her. This didn’t make her uncomfortable or apprehensive, as he had shown no aggressive tendencies towards her so far. But that didn’t mean she was about to lower her guard to some kind of insubstantial creature she’d never seen before. Even when her guard was at it’s lowest she was always ready for the unexpected. It was part of her training, to constantly be prepared. After all, a soul could appear from the blue without warning and her senses were not always searching for them.

So she continued to let him talk and in turn observe him carefully, especially how the shadows in the room tended to reach for him as if they were calling to him, or he was calling for them. She wasn’t quite sure. His last question was abruptly cut off at the end and Ira watched as the constant stare he had directed towards her became blank and the red of his irises faded into a black so dark it blended in perfectly with his pupils. He looked like he was seeing something from within himself. She couldn’t quite describe it, it was as if something within his mind drew him inward and he could no longer see what was around him. It was rather disturbing to see the blank look on his face but it was not a new experience to her. The Shaman in her tribe had often times had that expression upon his wrinkled face as he sensed and saw things she could not begin to comprehend.

Just as suddenly as he slipped into the state he snapped out of it as he screamed into the silence all around them. It was jarring, and scared her half to death. Her heart stopped beating for a minute and then kicked back, tripling its speed and her palms began to sweat and she found herself ready to defend herself if necessary. But he didn’t attack her. In fact, his sudden outburst did not even appear to be directed at her, but something else, something within his mind perhaps. The shadows in the room, the darkness, they quivered at his outcry as if he was screaming for them to leave him alone but the darkness could not speak.

Truly this man was more than he seemed and there was something going on within his mind that Ira could not even begin to understand. Perhaps a corruption similar to what she faced, perhaps not.

After his outburst, his form began to fade and waver and Ira watched with a bit of fascination as he pulled himself back together. Even his eyes returned to normal. When he looked at her, his facial expression appeared sheepish, as if he was embarrassed. That in turn made her release a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and relax a little bit. Just like before, he began asking her a myriad of questions all concerning her and the fact that someone, or more likely something did not like her.

Curling the one corner of her lips up into a small smirk, Ira tried to answer the boy but she didn’t know where to start with everything he’d asked her. “Heh, you really need to start asking a few questions at a time…” In her mind she was the one that wanted to ask the questions, but there was no harm in answering any of his and he might open up more to her if she spoke first.

“I…don’t know where to start…” She sighed, “Though explaining exactly what and who I am would be the best thing to do and then move on from there, I suppose. I am a Calerian. I’m a human born with special abilities that some look at as a gift and most as a curse. All Calerians have the ability to see the dead and travel to other planes of existence. I come from a tribe in Fallien; we train ourselves in a multitude of different aspects so that we can free souls that are trapped in the world of the living and allow them to move on to the world of the dead.

“When a person with regrets dies their soul becomes trapped in the physical world and they cannot move on. Our job is to track down these soul and free them before they get dragged into Purgatory, which is a kind of in between realm.”

Some of the things he asked her she wasn’t quite sure how to answer, or even if she could.

“I do not know why…they as you refer to them do not like me or fear me as I have no idea what you are talking about. Perhaps it has something to do with my abilities. Whether or not I can harm them has yet to be seen as I have not tried and nor do I plan on it.” Unless of course he planned on trying to harm her, but so far he showed no tendencies towards that. Only curiosity, and that was something Ira could understand in abundance.

“Those two souls you sensed earlier and called wisps have been sent to their rightful resting place and yes there is such a thing. A soul is never truly at peace in the world of the living. In Sanctuary, where they have been sent, they are hopefully at peace and without pain…”

She couldn’t be sure as she had never been to Sanctuary herself, but she could hope that it was a magnificent place where one didn’t have to feel pain, sorrow and despair.

“Now let me ask you something…” she said as she crossed her arms under her chest, “What exactly are you and how is it you can see and sense souls? I haven’t met a single person outside my tribe who has such an ability…”

[Shadow Reaper]

“I have been told this,” a murmured response to the fact J does tend to ask too much at once. Concentrated thought doesn’t really come into the process when J talks, things just pop into his head and straight out his mouth without pause between.

J listens as words flow from the woman in answer to his various questions. For once he is actually receiving some! Really, this isn’t the most common of occurrences, most just give the young man odd looks and answer only sparingly if at all of the queries me makes.

“So you are special, yes?” He gathers that much from her words. There’s quite a lot of puzzlement spreading through his face as she talks on. So many of the words he doesn’t know the meanings to and those few that he does, in the way she places them understanding continues to escape him.

As more words follow, J finds his mind wandering, only half listening to what is said. It’s not really boredom that fills him, it’s just that with his lack of understanding the struggle his mind is putting itself through to put things together in a way he does understand, well, he drifts a little.

He’s not sure where to throw in words of his own, either as question or statement as response to hers. J understands dead. This is a word he knows. Not quite so directly as to of killed himself, but he has seen humans, people, kill animals and creatures of different kinds. Snapped necks, crushed skulls, beaten hides and sliced bodies, all damaged in some manner that the inner light that J can feel in most life forms is released. Sometimes it wavers a little as if lost or confused, usually though they just disappear like those two wisps have. Each time that he has been close to these events, especially with the more bright minded creatures, J has felt an odd sensation through his shadow form. Something that responds strongly to that snuffing of the light within a living body.

Death of a higher being, human, elf, or otherwise, J has only witnessed close by a handful of times and never within contact range. An occurrence J is more than happy to keep as low as possible. Whereas with the brighter animals, J gets only that odd little tug within him, and a murmur from the Dark Places of what is happening. With men and their ilk, J gets a gut wrenching pull both towards and away from the figure and urgent bellowing from the Dark Places. Two forces fighting within his form, wrenching him this way and that as the Dark Places scream within his head their frantic whispered half words. Burning runs through his form, the shadows become electric and there’s a thrill that sparks life through a body that does not truly live.

With so many sensations, so many voices crying out and nothing but instinct to play from, J has only ever done a single action in response. He’s fled. Run from the scenes as fast as the darkness will take his form away. Not once has he been in a position close by during that moment when the light breaks free from it’s body. Always it has been long before, or the time after when the soul has taken itself elsewhere. A good thing when all things are considered. J likely best does to not test the skills he should inherently know on his own, likely things would not end a happy situation.

J snaps his mind back to the words being spoken to him as the lady speaks of the Dark Places indirectly. His crimson eyes light up as he takes a moment to actually look at the woman, “They do not like you.”

Why don’t they like her?
What is it about her that makes them act as so?
Female, obviously. Different to his own alternate female form even if she is the same height. Humans come in so very many variants of minimal changes it’s just amazing, and they can tell when these tiny differences are even just that little bit off! Really, it was to J’s great surprise that it took so long for him to gain a shape that didn’t get him lynched on the spot when trying to discover a guise that would pass as normal, or at least as normal as he could get. Admittedly J still has some issues in this area, but really, most situations don’t call for close scrutiny by those around you so he’s been okay for the most part.

Looking at her J can straight away see one of the main differences between his own female half and the woman. She holds that vibrant warmth of colour that J just can’t seem to manage to wrap into his appearances no matter how hard he tries. Something he takes to be because her colours come from the addition of light as opposed to his own which is the detraction of dark. Because of this he can’t seem to get rid of that underlying grey tone no matter what colours he chooses to be.
Then it is all the typical human things, lumps and bumps in the places that defines one sex. Skin, hair and eye colours.. Now that’s odd. The woman has flower coloured hair, those little pale ones sometimes seen within the sheltered glades of a forest. J’s never seen a person with such an unnatural human colour atop their head.

Without much thought he’s moved closer to her and reached out a hand towards the pale strands of hair. With his mind completely to the strange colouring more questions run from his mouth, “I have not seen this before. Do all your kind have such colour? Are there more colours? Is it because you are different?” A complete change of topic until he catches himself and pulls back. An instant away from actually making contact as curious crimson eyes look back to the face that’s now that much closer. He hadn’t realised he was this close. Were it that he breathed it would be flowing over her face. As it is, with words a slight air flow can be felt, just not in the exact same way it would come from someone who naturally required breath to speak.

With mind trailing back over the words he had heard spoken during his close scrutiny of the woman he pauses. “I don’t have a soul.”

“They said I don’t because of what I am. She said that I’m not good enough, that there’s no way that I could.. because.. I’m not..” His voice cuts, halting as for the first time a truly disagreeable tone comes to his voice. Whoever the she is that he speaks of, J doesn’t like her. Really doesn’t like her.

A slight shake of his head to clear it of such thoughts. Of the woman who haunts him, the tormentor of his formation. He refocuses, forcibly shoving his line of thought away from that strain and onto another.

He’s hardly moved a measure from the woman since coming so close, though he’s not making point of hemming her in. It’s just that his take on personal space is pretty much non-existent. Well, past his own need to not make actual contact with those he comes so close to.

The child like smile returns, dancing in his eyes as he looks into the woman’s own strange coloured gaze. “I am J. I am.. different. I am not sure what I am. They did not tell me. They never told me anything. They made me, they were there, then they were gone. I do not know where they went.” He speaks more candid of himself than he is usually inclined to of late. But then this woman is different. She can hold his gaze where so many falter, fidget or simply flee. It is strange to look into the eyes of another and not see fear, to not sense it leaking from their being into everything around, soaking into the shadows and making them tremble.

“Souls? The wisps are souls? They’re pretty. So bright and colourful.” As he speaks he lowers his eyes, tracing them over the woman’s form. “This is why people shine inside as well? Because people have souls?” A hand comes up between them and hovers just off from touching, following where his eyes go. “.. Shine within. Like you.” Fingertips continue to trace down over her shoulder and along an arm all the way to her fingertips, making sure to never quite touch. “You are bright. Very bright.”

He looks back up again with a slight tilt to his head, hand hovering for a moment before he pulls it away. There had been temptation there a moment to touch. To feel the light and it’s life with his fingertips.. But no, he doesn’t want to hurt the lady with her flower coloured hair. He knows his touch hurts, or something of the sort at least. Not once has he gotten a positive reaction from such a connection with another living being, there’s no reason to think he would now.

His gaze is intent, possibly hopeful as words continue to follow through from his mind out his mouth, “You are different too. You see the wisps when others don’t. Do you see the light as well? Do you feel the pull when there is touch?” Fingers reach for a moment before curling back away again.

For some reason he wants to touch the brightness within the woman. To feel the life flowing through his fingers.. She’s different. He can sense that simply enough. Then there’s the Dark Places and their wailing cautions of her. What makes them cry so towards her? Perhaps the touch would help him to understand. But no. He can’t. He will wait. There is more to this woman that he wants to know. He will ask more still first, then maybe, perhaps.. possibly..

[Iriah Caitrak]

He was still asking so many questions. She was having a hard time keeping it all straight in her head and wondering what to answer first and just how to answer it. Before she could tell he’d been trying to understand her but not all of it must have made sense to him. His understanding of the dead and souls was limited, much like the knowledge any normal human had. Perhaps he was not completely aware of his abilities or how to control them and harness them. Perhaps he was not aware of much at all of himself and just what he could do. Ira didn’t even know what he could do but if he could see and sense souls there was potential. She was not quite sure yet. He was definitely a strange one and she needed to know him better before she started telling him anything more specific about souls and the other planes of existence. She needed to trust him and that was not something she handed out in large quantities. It was something that had to be earned and he was far from doing that.

His eyes were examining her. Looking over every curve of her body in a manner that wasn’t sexual in any way. Only with curiosity, always with curiosity. She didn’t mind. He seemed especially interested in the colour of her hair, which she knew herself was not exactly natural. It turned quite a few heads in Radasanth and even in her home region of Fallien, yet never in Astaka. But then he started moving closer to her.

She tensed at first. Unsure of what he was doing and why he was coming closer to her, her natural reaction was a defensive one. His hand rose to touch the strands of hair falling over her face, but he stopped short before ever reaching them. She would not have stopped him if that was what he was worried about, she would not have pulled away. But still, he never actually touched her. As his hand slowly lowered from her face she realized how close he was to her. He was a breath away from her and that was when she noticed he didn’t breathe. No air passed across her skin even though he was mere inches from her. Oh, there was a slight movement when he talked but that was about it.

Why did he not breathe? All living creatures needed air in order to survive. Surely he was different, but was he not at least alive? A soul did not breathe as they were not alive and thus they did not need air, but he was not a soul. He was something else…something stronger. Something entirely different she’d never before come across. She was about to open her mouth and ask him something when he blurted out the fact that he didn’t have a soul.
She blanched for a moment and felt her head go blank. And then in the space of a heartbeat a million thoughts began to swirl throughout her mind. How could he not have a soul? Everyone possessed a soul, from the tiniest animal to even the most vile human or race on Althanas. They all had them and could not survive without them. They were the essence of life and carried on that person after they died. He must have been wrong. Taking a deep breath, Ira focused her senses on him…but found nothing. Clenching her hands into fists, she tried again but sill she felt nothing. Only that void where there was suppose to be a soul, where there was supposed to be something but he possessed nothing. How could someone be so cruel as to not give him a soul?

Just as that question popped into her head he started talking about her. Ira didn’t know whom he was referring to but she could already feel her contempt for this woman grow. To deny someone a soul was a horrible thing and then to say they were not good enough to have one was even worse. Everyone should have a soul.

Ira listened as he continued to talk, naming himself as ‘J’, which she found rather odd but then his whole existence was rather odd. Especially since he continued to say that he was made. Not born, but made as if a bunch of people stood around and created him for some kind of end and decided to tell him nothing of himself and what he was supposed to do with his life. It was rather sad and Ira couldn’t help the pang of sympathy she felt for this man. Then he tried to touch her again. His hand hovered so close to her skin, tracing her shoulder and down her arm. It was slightly unnerving to have him so close to her but not actually touching her and the whole experience could be classified as slightly erotic, but it didn’t evoke any of those feelings.

“I can feel a person’s soul if it is still within their living body, yes. When I touch them I can feel the essence of their soul if I want to, but I cannot see the soul until it leaves the body. I do not see this brightness that you refer to, but I imagine it is rather beautiful as a soul is a miraculous thing…”

She took a single step away from him, just enough to give her the personal space she needed. If he kept coming so close to her she just might reach out and touch him to see if he truly was a solid being or not. But seeing as how he shied away from physical contact she restrained her own curiosities.

“My name is Ira Shinkara, but you may just call me Ira. Most of the people in my tribe have strange hair colour as I do, though it comes in many different shades from bright red, to black, to blue and even silver. But if you think that is interesting, you should see what I can do with my eyes.” To make a point of showing him, the swirling silver of her irises changed into the crimson that J himself possessed. It was a small trick, but he seemed amused and amazed at the simplest things.

There were still so many questions buzzing through her mind that she wanted answers to though. Who the they were that didn’t like her, who made him and who exactly was the woman that wouldn’t give him a soul. But before she asked any of these they needed to get out of this rickety old house.

“J, I do believe it would be wise if we leave the house before it collapses on us. It’s not exactly the most stable structure…”

He was practically blocking the doorway and Ira had to manoeuvre around him in order to get out of the room and into the hall. With everything that had just happened, Ira found she couldn’t remember which way she had come down. Instead of going by memory, she followed the trail of her footprints. They left a clear sign for her through the thick layers of dust coating the wood. As she continued down the hall, turning here and there at random intervals, the Calerian quickly noticed that there was no secondary trail of footprints beside her own. If J had indeed made his way into that room through the only door he left no visible trace. True, it was dark, but she was rather certain if she could see her own she would be able to make his out.

Making a mental note to herself about it, Ira made her way back to the broken staircase. Sitting down on the edge of it, she grabbed onto the sturdiest piece of wood she could find and carefully lowered herself down at far as her arms could take her. From there, she released her steel grip and let gravity do the rest of the work for her. The drop was minimal but the moment her feet touched the aged wood it groaned and protested and threatened to snap and break beneath her.

Quickly stepping off the boards, the Calerian made her way out the front door and slipped out into the sunny streets of Radasanth. She never bothered to look behind her. She knew J would follow after her; there was no reason why he wouldn’t. She had answers to many of his questions. Feeling the warm breeze caress her skin, Ira took a deep breath and enjoyed fresh air without taint of smoke, ash and dust

The house she’d just vacated was in the outskirts of Radasanth. A run down place filled with shacks and mostly homeless people that could not afford to live in the better areas of the city. Personally, she thought they were better off down here. The rich truly did not seem any happier than they did, actually they seemed downright miserable from time to time where as these people could still smile. There was farmland aplenty here and in fact the house she had just left had once been a grand building, not a mansion, but it sat in a large property overrun with grass, weeds and trees that no one had cared for in a long time. She didn’t mind though, it made it look more natural, like nature was taking back what man has originally stole from it.

For a moment she just enjoyed the feeling of the warm sun on her skin and the gentle breeze that lifted her hair and cooled the sweat from the back of her neck and brow. Then she walked over to one of the large trees that towered only feet away from the house. In the shade of a million green leaves she sat and rested with her back pressed against the rough bark and her fingers playing over the soft and tiny blades of grass. It was nice to come out of a mission and see so much life around her for a change. Never would she find such a thing in her home of sand.

[Shadow Reaper]

“Pity.. They are very pretty. Bright and pretty.” In a non-harmful way too which really is quite nice for J. Souls seem to be that one light source that doesn’t affect J’s form. Where natural lights, magic glows, fires, etc, all cause J’s form to jitter, fault and fade, souls do nothing to his appearance. Perhaps it’s because the light of a soul doesn’t seem to affect other things in the physical world, and seeing as J’s shadowform is part of the physical world it is not bothered. Really, it’s not something he’s thought on too much.

“I can touch them.. The souls. It’s strange.. I don’t like to. They make me feel funny.” There’s halts to his voice, unable to figure how he wants to word himself exactly with what he wants to say. It’s not something he’s discussed with others before.

With his words he lets her back off, using this as cause to keep himself from further reaching out to touch her. It really is rather annoying this want to put his hand to her and touch that brightness that runs within her form. He can’t really understand why he wants to, just that he does. For now he’s putting it down to his interest in the strange lady with the flower hair’s own odd quirks. He’s not seen someone else before who can interact with the wisps/souls. She made them disappear! Maybe she could do that to him. He’s not sure. He’s even less sure if his want to touch her is some odd desire to want to disappear. He doesn’t really want to disappear does he? He’s not minding existence so much.

Taken from his thoughts by an introduction of names he bursts into laughter. “What a funny name!” J thinks everyone’s name is funny. He’s really not one to talk, though he does of course.

He’s cut short from further making play of her name by the sudden colour show. It’s enough to make J brighten up further and bounce on his toes a little as he watches, leaning that bit closer to observe the change. “I can’t do that.. Everything else but that. My eyes don’t like to change. I don’t know why.” Something to do with eyes being the mirror of one’s soul. As much as J can change his appearance, hair, clothes, colour, form, he can never completely hide what exactly he is. Even though he doesn’t know himself, it’s still a part of him and one that will not allow itself to be truly hidden away. Thusly J’s eyes can never be anything but crimson ringing a depthless black.

“Do it again!” He’s still got an unblinking gaze on her eyes, watching in fascination when she makes comment towards leaving the building. “Collapses..?” The thought had never crossed his mind. Then again such things really aren’t much of a worry when you don’t have a squishable body to harm.

Movement has J stepping aside to keep out of Ira’s way, giving her room to go through the doorway he was still somewhat standing in. He has no problem with her moving, he’ll just follow, he’s not done with her yet. Too many interesting things could happen that he might miss out on if he lets her go. That and the whole general interest in her and all.

So he follows after Ira as she leaves the room and back out into the hall. Silent footsteps that continue to pass over dusty floors unmarked make their way onwards. Down the hall, around this and that corner, onwards just a pace behind or right next to the woman. The whole time J’s speaking his mind, saying different things about the building, asking questions, simply speaking whatever passes into his head. For the most part it’s just idle chitchat, nothing important and hardly a moment left available in which the woman could actually put answers. Not that J seems to notice or care much at this point, he’s just filling the empty air.

Aside from his continual spillage of statements and questions about everything and nothing, J’s not got much interest in the passing world around them. Not even the pause at the broken staircase raises too much interest. He waits for the woman to get down, watching what she does before searching out his own best option for getting down. It’s not really all that difficult. With the way the building’s positioned, where the sun is in the sky there’s a nice big shadow is cast against the wall where the stairs once were down to the ground floor, J does the easiest thing and simply jumps. Sure, that’s a bigger jump than any normal human has any right to be able to make, especially from a standing position, but he does it anyway. That a real human body just wouldn’t make that movement so easily and with no visible effort doesn’t even cross his mind. He gets does the most obvious thing as he sees it.

Whereas there’d been groans and creaking of wood from Ira’s landing there’s not a single sound of protest from the aged wood, the dust isn’t even unsettled by his movements. J has no weight to speak of, he’s just another shadow layered atop the rest, nothing of consequence to the structure. From his position J’s not quite so enthusiastic about moving off the spot. The woman’s headed outside and though he wants to follow, well, he’s not so big on the great outdoors, especially in ‘lovely’ sunny weather. Still, he can’t just remain here and really, it is later in the day so it’s not as bad as earlier..

J remains in the large doorway to the building for some moments after reaching it, just peering out at the bright happy day outside. It’s still all that bit sunnier out there than he’d like but it’s not too bad. The great light’s past it’s zenith and on it’s way towards the horizon once more. Not too much longer and once more the darkness will be covering everything and J will have free roam as he pleases. Till then he’ll just have to make do.

Seeing the woman move to the shade of one of the large trees so close to the main building J’s a little more comfortable with matters. She hasn’t gone too far, that’s good, it’s going to take him a couple of moments to adjust his consistency to walk out from the building and not come across as transparent. So far in his encounter with the woman it hasn’t been so bad in relation to this. With the state of things there had been more than enough shadows and dark places throughout the mansion for him to stand in without having to fuss over direct sunlight. Even for those few places where the windows weren’t utterly consumed by dust and debris there had still been enough gloom within the rooms for it to not be a bother. Outside’s a different manner, especially out here where there’s nothing to create that enclosed atmosphere he much rather prefers. Still, that tree’s not too far and the shadows cast by it look comfortable enough.

J’s out from the doorway and in the shade of the tree with no time wasted in the sunshine. Somehow he manages not to convey the biggest sense of urgency over the whole matter, he’s merely in one spot and then another with no real recollection of him being in between. Sure, he had actually passed through the sky light’s touch and a perfectly natural speed. It’s just that once he’s stood once more within the shade of something he just seems to fit that much better into his surroundings, like as if that’s where he belongs and nowhere else.

Comfortable once more J takes it upon himself to sit, seeing as the woman is herself. So with a wonderful grace of movement he drops down into a cross legged sit right in front of her, retaining that same hair’s breadth distance between them he’d maintained during their stanced conversation earlier. Crimson eyes look upon Ira as he watches her intently, not quite sure where to start with himself now. His tirade of words had been put to pause back there at the stairs and not put back into play since. Thoughts having been elsewhere between now and then he can’t remember the last trail he’d been going on to continue it. Probably a good thing.

So he takes a stab in the dark, “Can you help me?”

[Iriah Caitrak]

He seemed out of place. Uncomfortable and even a little worried. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he didn’t belong outside, in the light instead of the darkness, but more so that he thought he didn’t. The way he moved from the entrance of the house to the safety of the tree’s shadow reminded her that he was not a completely solid creature. In that split second where he entered the light she lost sight of him and then he was right there, in front of her. She did not jump, it did not shock her but it did intrigue her. She wished he knew more about himself, for his own gain and because she truly wanted to know just what he was and how he had come into this world. Perhaps she could help him figure out some of those answers.

Even outside, the strange man has little to no sense of personal space. He sits as close as humanity possible to her once again without actually touching her. He watches her as he always does, as if fascinated by the simplest things. His exclamation at her ability to change her eye colour proving that point. It had been so child-like and she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered it. Shame that not every person looked upon such a simple thing with innocence. Ira had received many a glare and a cold look because of the things she could do in Irrakam. Fallien was not as trusting as she seemed and the people within its protective walls did not always look so kindly to others, even those that share its sands. It was something she had grown up with and she doubted it would ever change. Even in this strange land people looked at her oddly. She spoke with a different accent, could not always find the proper common term, her skin was dark, her hair fair and her eyes unnatural. If only grown ups could learn to look at the world as children did from time to time, they would find a lot less reason to kill, and a lot less to feel greed over.

When J finally spoke to her again, he asked for her help and when her mouth opened to answer him she found the words hard to speak as if she wanted to say something else but this came out instead.

“I…don’t know.”

In a way, she did want to lie to him and tell him she could. But that would only be cruel, especially since there probably was no real way for her to help him, at all. The only thing she could do was tell him the true. She could try to help him, but in the process of doing that there was a large chance she was going to fail. After all, she knew less about him than he did, she only knew that he could see souls, a trait that so few had.

“I wish I could tell you with absolute certainty that I can help you, but…I don’t know if it’s possible.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her short, purple hair. “I suppose I could help you in terms of souls…”

She could yes, but she didn’t trust him enough with her small amount of knowledge on the afterlife. He seemed innocent enough to her… but still. Ira did not want to come out and tell him that though, it might make him defensive and say things that would only put her at ease, which was not what she wanted. She wanted to get to know him better and then teach him if she thought he was not a danger to others and to himself. If it came to that she would probably try to get rid of him.

“I want to know more about you first…” She looked directly into his piercing gaze, her eyes having already reverted back to their natural state of swirling silver, “Why is it that you do not touch people? Multiple times you have come quite close to doing so to me, but always your hand hovers just that small space away from actually making contact. Even now you sit as close to me as possible without actually making physical contact…why?”

[Shadow Reaper]

“Oh..”

J’s disappointed. It’s quite evident through his entire being, the fact he makes no point of hiding his feelings means every emotion is displayed quite vividly as he feels them. He’s yet to learn that hiding one’s feelings or thoughts on things can be beneficial towards one’s desires. At this point, probably a good thing.

It doesn’t take him too long to brighten up though. More words and there’s some hope! She said ‘I can help you’! Just because there’s other words before this that aren’t exactly lending themselves to complete agreance with that statement doesn’t mean she didn’t say those words. The flower haired woman’s going to help!

“The wisps?”
His head cocks, eyes wide as he stares at the woman. Crimson searches out quicksilver as he watches her, curious, wanting, waiting. He’s not met anyone since those who made him who knew anything of what he is. That she could possibly know something, anything, about what he is, is a treasure beyond measure for J. A hint, a clue, anything about what he is, what his purpose is, is more than he has now and something he has been searching for for so long now. To find someone with an answer to even one question is more than he could hope for and he would willingly do anything for.

A question thrown back at him puts J momentarily on the defence. Though one to babble endlessly on so many pointless lines, to talk about himself, certain aspects that is, is something he has come of habit to skirt around. So many don’t agree with what he is, whatever that may be, and want nothing to do with him once he shows something of his true self. Still, the question’s not too bad and well, she hasn’t run yet, she seems willing to help, to want to help even. He’ll take another go. After all, what’s the worst she can do should she decide she doesn’t want to know of him? Well, perhaps disappear him ..but maybe he wants that.

J’s gaze darts away finally, looking off into nowhere between the shadow of this tree and the next. “I.. I don’t like to.” Well, it’s a half truth. The feelings he gets when ‘touching’ another is something he can’t fully explain, being unable to understand it himself. So very many raw emotions make themselves known when he does. Then there’s the Dark Places..

A light headshake, his mess of dirty blonde hair coming to pause part way over his face as he looks to the woman again through it, “I-..”

With the words escaping him, he sighs. Looking down to where their knees barely miss touching, a hand runs along his leg until it’s just above where contact would be between them, should either of them move that little bit more. “My touch is different.. “

“The light. The brightness inside. I can touch it. It draws me to reach, to touch...”

The hand pulls away from hovering over her knee with a jerk, his gaze returning once more to the silver dance of her own. “When I do, it hurts,” his hands come to his chest, pressing lightly up against the pale loose fitting material seemingly there, “Here.”

“..And the Dark Places.. They scream. They shout. They go on and on and on and they do not shut up.”

Hands fall away again as he looks at the woman, eyes wide and unknowing, innocent in everything he says. So much of himself he doesn’t understand.

“Others do not like it when I touch. They feel it too. The pain, the pull.” But not the thrill that races through the darkness when it takes hold of a soul. This alone the shadows know, cherished by the Dark Places.

The tone of his voice changes, the quiet half whisper disappearing as he continues his gaze to hers. A confidence growing as that pull towards the light within her brings itself to prominence from talk of the spirits within all living bodies.

“I should like to touch you. You are bright. Pretty, very pretty.” Each word has him closer, leaning forwards ever that little bit more, a single hand reaching out to hers.

For the first time an undercurrent of fear comes through in his voice as the air whispers, “Will I disappear?” And yet there’s a wonder there too, that perhaps something different would come of their contact, unlikely though it is.

A strong gust of wind suddenly makes itself known. A swirl of leaves and small debris creating a willywilly around the base of the tree to which the two of them sit. Not a hair, not a fragment of his loose fitting clothing moves with the air flow around them. Instead a light ripple passes through him, effected by the sudden jostle of the great tree’s own shadow to which his own form is partially blended with for the time being.

The sudden rush of wind marks itself as the only sound of life in the ambient noise behind the voices of conversation since J's appearance. The moment J had stepped outside of the decrepit mansion not a bug, bird or animal could be heard nearby. Silence greets J where ever he goes in the natural world. J holds about him the feel of what he truly is and those of simpler minds feel it as they do all their native instincts. Death is to be avoided, none wants to die before their time and thusly life on the smaller scale either silences itself or runs from the presence of the shadowform man.
This is not something J realises, it is merely something he takes as a given having never known any different.

[Iriah Caitrak]

((Sorry for the wait))

She watches him intently. Listening as he explains exactly what happens when he touches another individual, when he touches their soul in fact. He does not actually touch the living body but he reaches to the soul beyond that body. A strange gift, though in this instance a curse for a man who does not understand it, nor can he control it. Perhaps he just needs to learn how to control the things that pass through him when he touches someone instead of letting them control him. But the only way to do that is to familiarize oneself with the emotions and sensations. That would mean he would have to continually touch someone.

Ira couldn’t hide the fact that she did want to reach out and touch him. Her own curiosity wanted to feel these experiences. After all, her soul was not the same as every other. She was a Calerian and she had a corruption within her that no one else knew about and could never even begin to comprehend. Then again, she could barely understand it.

The gust of wind made his body shift and ripple with the swaying of the shadow around them. He truly was not a solid being at all. Ira remembered walking through the decrepit house behind them and seeing him slink from shadow to shadow without leaving a footprint and barely making a single sound.

“I will not make you disappear…”

She didn’t want to and she couldn’t unless she summoned her weapons to her hands. Simply touching him would not send him to the other side like a normal soul, then again if she attacked him with her weapons she was not entirely certain what would happen. He did not feel like a soul, or even act like one. Heck, by his own words and her own senses he didn’t even have a soul so how could she possibly make him ‘disappear’? She couldn’t, well, she wouldn’t know until she tried but she didn’t plan on it. That was just her ace up her sleeve in case this went awry in any kind of way. The man did not seem to be dangerous, but appearances could always be deceiving.

Bringing her hand up, Ira held J’s gaze as se slowly began to reach out towards his already outstretched hand. He didn’t recoil; instead his eyes flickered from her hand and then back to her eyes, uncertainty warring within their gaze. He didn’t pull away, yet neither did he seem extremely comfortable with what she was about to do. The Calerian didn’t stop though. Taking a deep breath, she covered the final small distance to watched as her hand slid against his in a rather strange feeling. It was like a pressure was stopping her advance, not skin and bone and muscles, but pressure. The close contact with it made the darkness within her stir. She could feel it in the back of her soul, like a movement as it once again tested the boundaries of its cage.

The pressure around her hand suddenly disappeared and Ira’s hand passed right through J’s until she stopped it, her hand lying where he wrist should be. Then she felt it. The tug he was talking about, the pull on her soul. It was as if something within him wanted her soul and was clawing at it, trying to rip it from her body. But it didn’t hurt her. She continued to gaze into his red eyes as she fought against the pulling sensation. It was easy for her. The corruption within her reacted violently though. Whether it was trying to protect her or simply using J to try and get a hold of her she didn’t know. It threw itself against the boundaries of its cage, clawing incessantly as it tried to free itself. Ira just reinforced the boundary that kept it sealed. Whatever J was, the corruption within her did not seem to like him.

“It…it feels so strange. I can feel the pull on my own soul as if you are somehow trying to pull it from my body…”

Maybe it affected others more so than her because they had no understanding of their souls and no control over them. Ira might not be in complete control of her soul but she definitely had an extensive bit of knowledge and understanding on it. Not to mention she knew how to utilize it.

She slowly pulled away from him and the sensations running through her body, tingling along through muscles and nerves ceased. If he could utilize such a gift she could truly be a powerful entity and that was both exciting and scary at the same time. He would have the ability to pull someone’s soul straight from their body, similar to how her Ad Atmika enchantment worked. But she was getting ahead of herself. He needed to learn a few things about souls first in order to be able to accomplish something like that and that was only if she were willing to teach him.

[Shadow Reaper]

It’s that strange feeling.. Stranger still for the fact J is actually allowing the woman to put her hand through his. There’s resistance, his own habitual pulling back from her internally as her hand approaches and goes within his, but he remains still, focused on what’s happening.

She had said she wouldn’t make him disappear.. but could she anyway? Just by touching him?

The tingles, the tug.. pull of life’s strings begin as nothing, a murmur at the back of his mind as her hand passes further through his. The crossover between her limb and hers becoming stronger with each moment until were he to curl his fingers he could grasp those lines of dancing light webbed within her flesh. The temptation is there, so strong.. so very strong.

It’s only her steady gaze, those strange colour changing eyes on his own blood bound ones that keeps him from acting. Keeps him from clutching at the life she contains so strongly within her form.

Then it hits him.


NO!

NO!

NO!


The Dark Places screaming, shouting, yelling, clamouring at every sense for his attention.
They burst within his mind after having been quiet for so long. Once more gathered in strength and number to batter at defences fallen from ill attention.


Take! Devour! Destroy!


TAKE!

OURS!


NO! NO!


His eyes glaze over. Mind numbed with pain as so many voices compete within him, shout, proclaim, order him in so many directions he can’t keep a focus on the real world as he makes an effort to combat them.


Wrong! Take! Destroy!


OPEN!


J’s mind snaps back.
He falls backwards upon the spot, hands splaying to catch him before he falls flat upon his back.
He stares.
Eyes wide, with whites ringing the crimson as he gazes unblinking upon the flower haired woman.

Inside her is something.. Something the Dark Places.. He’s not sure. Do they want it? Do they want it free? Do they want to destroy it? Or do they want her? Is she what they don’t like or is it that thing?

He can’t think, the Dark Places are still screaming at him, making his form unsteady and shudder as he attempts to keep himself together. He wants to run. He wants to flee. He doesn’t want to be here. She’s doing this to him. She’s making the Dark Places unbearable!

But..

She has answers. No one else has answers. She knows things! She can help! She said she would.. didn’t she? He’s not so sure now, not with all the voices in his head carrying on, over and over, saying so very many different things. So many things that make him want to flee, to curl up, to hide, to fade, to disappear.

There’s a war going on within J and it’s all because he let her touch him. Let her put her hand within his.. This is why J doesn’t like touching others. Too many feelings, too many questions, too many things he doesn’t understand about everything.


Suddenly he stills. They’ve gone quiet, the Dark Places.

The silence is deafening as he sits there, propped upon his hands unmoving, waiting, waiting.. What are they doing now? Why have they gone quiet?

He’s nervous, confused, so torn up inside that his physical form is straining to retain itself due to all the pressure from within. He can’t keep this up. Something’s going to break and it’s probably going to be him.

He looks to Ira again, eyes still wide, though among the fear is wanting, yearning.
He wants help, he needs help, he’s making himself stay because she’s the first sign of it he’s had in his short life. Yet she’s doing this to him. He’s never had another creature create such conflict within him, not any living ones, the Dark Places don’t count. Nor has he had another cause such strong reaction from the Dark Places themselves.

“What did you do? Why? What’s within you? What’s in there? It’s Dark, like the Dark Places.. but..” his voice breaks, cracking so often it’s a good minute before he can form all the words and get them out.

He’s struggling to hold himself together, to keep this form up. It’s obvious not only in his voice but by his appearance as well. J’s become decidedly greyer, the colours he so vigorously clings to in his human form having become faded, dull. He’s also melding with the shadow of the tree they sit within, fingers and hands, toes and feet, even the seat of his pants blending with the weave of the grass and the pattern of the dappled leaves.

There’s something out there. The Dark Places are biding their time. They haven’t decided to just leave him alone, J knows that. Not after such a reaction would they just leave him be, no, they’re planning something.. And he doesn’t like that. That the Dark Places are planning something make him extremely uncomfortable. He’s never given them credit for having mind enough to do such a thing. That they are, and he’s certain of the fact, does not bode well.

So he twitches, fidgets and frets, unable to keep still. He needs to know answers. He needs to know what that Dark thing is within the woman. Does she have a Dark Place captured within her? Is that what it is? Is that why they Dark Places dislike her so much? Because she’s captured one of them? Or is it something they fear? Or want? Or is it the woman?

The same questions just keep going over and over in his head, pulling him apart further and causing him to stress more. None of this is getting him anywhere, he’s merely making himself more of a mess.

So he watches the woman, even as he fidgets and frets, form disappearing upon him. The only thing in the shadows moving as they themselves remain still in accordance with the Dark Place’s own silence.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She had wanted to touch him to see what would happen to her. He had the ability to feel and reach out to souls and she wanted to know what that would do to her if anything, but she hadn’t considered the consequences that may take place inside of him. Her contact seemed to disturb J quite a bit and made her feel guilty for only thinking of herself and not him. It was his body after all, if she could call it a body at that. Even as he struggled to hold his wavering form, she felt the urge to reach out and help him. But she can’t touch him. Not anymore, not after witnessing what contact with her can do to him. She wouldn’t be able to help him, she wouldn’t even know how. In the end she would just end up hurting him more and that was the last thing she wanted.

So she waited, as he fought with whatever voices plagued his mind and as he struggled to maintain himself. Even when he fell back onto the grass, she waited, knowing that she could do nothing but watch him. His form shifted and changed, he started to loose that solidity and he began to blend into the shadow they were sitting in. But he held on in the end and persevered over whatever it was he was struggling with, even finding the ability to ask her just what it was inside of her. That was when she figured out what disturbed him so much.

Abhrapatha…

It wasn’t just because she was a Calerian, it was because of the fact that she was different from the others and there was her own little Dark Place inside of her, though much different than J’s. That’s what he had pulled on and sensed and which had probably sensed him back. She had a tight wall around that corruption but someone could still sense it, feel it and it’s influence slowly leaking into her mind and soul.

J had answered all of the questions he could that she had asked; now it was her turn to explain a little about herself. Even if she didn’t want to. Even if she wanted to lock that part of her away forever. She couldn’t run from it.

“I guess you could say it’s my own little Dark Place, J.” She didn’t really know how to fully explain it to him. “When someone like me releases a soul from Purgatory, all of the evil that soul did once released from it’s body is taken into the Calerian as corruption and later dispelled when it reaches it’s limit within us.”

Twice corrupted and still alive, just what kind of monster am I?

“However I’m a little…different than the others of my kind. I use the corruption; I keep it within myself and use it to become stronger and faster. It makes me a better fighter but in turn I am always struggling to keep control of it. For should I ever slip up, it would surely take control of me and I would become nothing more than a monster. That is the last thing I want…”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her short hair. Her eyes travelled away from him as she looked back towards the house they had been in not to long ago.

“Perhaps your Dark Places are attracted to mine, perhaps they want to free it and let it take control of me like they try to take control of you. Or maybe they’re scared of it. I really don’t know as having it inside of me is as much as mystery and new experience as you struggle with your own Dark Places.”

Ira didn’t really know what to tell him, what she could tell him anymore. It worried her that the things within him might be able to reach out to Abhrapatha. If that were to happen she didn’t know if she’d be able to fight back and win.

[Shadow Reaper]

J sits there, watches, listens as Ira talks.

Purgatory. That word again. J’s not sure of it, something important to her though. What was it she said before? Did she say something before? He frowns slightly, the thoughts buzzing uselessly through his head before her words catch him again and he goes back to listening.

So she does have one of the Dark Places trapped within her. No wonder they’d made such a fuss when she’d made contact. The Dark Places are constantly talking to each other as it is, they search each other out, to find one trapped, hidden away.. Really, his own thoughts are mute on the point. The possibilities are beyond meaning in his mind.

Still more words and concepts he doesn’t understand, though he is trying to follow what’s being said and to gather the meaning behind it all.

“Y-You keep a Dark Place?” He frowns, “To make you.. stronger?” Now that’s a novel idea. To use the Dark Places instead of having them use you. That would be something useful for him to learn should she be willing to share.

Fighting isn’t really the part that interests him, but to be stronger, faster, to be able to control the Dark Places and make them do his own biding. The struggle isn’t a bother, he does that anyway, from the moment he’s been free he’s been able to hear them, see them. To be fighting them still, more, it’s no different to now. That they could take him over, well.. He doesn’t believe that could happen. They’ve never come at him in such force as to actually be able to control him, influence, but not physically control.

A word catches his interest, “Monster?” Wide crimson eyes blink a couple of times, “That’s.. bad?” He’s still fidgeting, having to keep himself there, solid and contained. He looks uncomfortable as he speaks again, “I’m a monster.. thing.” Well, he’s been called it often enough to believe it, and all things considered, he is

J remains silent for a bit as he thinks on this before he’s brought back to correct Ira’s words. “They’re not my Dark Places. They’re just the Dark Places. They’re everywhere.. Anywhere that’s dark, shadowed, they’re there. They whisper, they talk.. all the time.” Eyes travel over the dappled shadows created by their tree and further before coming back. “Sometimes they’re quiet, usually they’re all noise. Saying things I can’t proper hear or understand. Saying them over and over.”

He frowns, “I don’t like it. So I yell.” Thin blonde brows furrow further, “and they shut up. Never for long.. but they do.” There’s a small sigh as he looks to the flower haired lady again. “You don’t hear them.. No one ever hears them. But they are there.. even if you can’t see them or hear them. They’re there.”

A moment’s pause and there’s a thought on what was previously said, something that’s only just clicked in his mind and J suddenly changes his demeanour. He becomes just that little bit perky at the prospect as it swirls through his head, “Could you show me? Teach me?” J’s form stills finally, holding itself together better than it’s been doing for the past few minutes, his gaze intensifying. “Show me how to control it. Make me stronger, faster?”

Then, because things have been going along too nicely and well, one could say the Dark Places do not like the prospect even if they’re not really exactly a sentient being.



TAKE!


J’s mind is blown by the sudden force behind the scream. A scream from a million million voices, all working together, echoing one after the other the exact same message. Creating chaos enough that it’s not just the shadow world they come from that shakes, but the world outside too.

He can’t hold it, can’t control himself under such an onslaught, one such as he’s never come against before. The human facade disappears, dissolves away to reveal the true form, turning back into it’s natural shade and shape.

The mass of shadows lunges, leaps to engulf the woman and steal away what the Dark Places holler, bellow to be taken. Death on four legs as a shadowform.



OURS!




“NO!”


Sceadu misses, leaps over the woman instead, hits the tree and bounces back to where it had been a moment ago. There’s a moment of pass through, where the darkness that is the Reaper makes contact through Ira. Where the pull, the want, the drive to take what the Dark Places want flashes through it’s mind. But Sceadu will not, it will not harm the woman. Not the first being that has been willing to speak with, to offer help, assistance to itself.

For a moment Sceadu stands there, revealed in full for what it actually is before the flower haired lady.

A Reaper, but not merely of human kind. This is Death in it’s more base form. The savagery, bestiality from when time started, when nature was everything and man was nothing. Death at it’s most primal.
A beast, an undefined creature made of the darkness. The large sinuous form easily larger than the woman were it to stand bipedal, it’s form flows and ebbs, sometimes heavily built, at others lithe and flexible. Claws like scythes sprout from large padded feet, similar form following from the grasping fingers that tense upon the ground, melted into the shadow of the tree. A short muzzle that opens to a maw filled with jagged shapes of ripping and tearing, again undefined as one becomes many then one again, repeating as a constantly shifting mass. One could imagine it as shaggy furred were it made of something more than rippling shadows, a high ridge from between it’s ears to between it’s shoulder blades the longest by far, only competed by the wisping flags of it’s tail.

The defining points of Sceadu’s appearance, it’s size, stature, apparent health, all depend on those viewing it. For it is after all, an embodiment of Death and Death is many things to many beings, changing constantly through a lifetime. Never the same from one to another once the subconscious is delved. Thusly the Reaper’s body shapes itself as to it’s viewers opinion.
Were they to fear Death and it’s many aspects, there is no limit to the horror to which Sceadu’s appearance would take upon before their eyes. For those who are willing, accepting of what is to come, the teeth are not so sharp, the claws not so lethal, the creature not so dangerous, merely another being, here with it’s own purpose that cannot be denied.

Large crimson eyes stare, solid red but for the black pupils, the only slash of colour upon a being of varying shades of black. Wide, fearful, the pupils narrow slits of darkness that still hold that endlessness one could disappear into forever.

“I-I..”

Whispers of words, felt as much as heard as the darkness forms the shapes to make the sounds, pushing the air through their depths.

Long pointed ears lay flat, the entire bestial form quivering, fading, fluctuating in it’s consistency of shadows as it stands there. Sceadu hadn’t meant to. It didn’t mean to. It’s sorry but doesn’t know the words to say as such.

The Shadow Reaper flees.

Form rippling, swirling, taking up the darkness around it, Sceadu leaps once more. This time it doesn’t bounce back off the tree, instead it climbs up, hooking it’s claws to the shaded side of the tree to take itself up, up and away. The living shadow races to be among the branches where it’s large form is less distinguishable among the varied tones of light and leaves. From branch to branch it leaps, dances, takes itself away, slashes of darkness between the dappled light, hints of it’s movement. From one tree to another, always keeping to the deeper shades cast by each as it goes.

The Dark Places are squealing, singing their delight, offering their words of advice, help, hinting from the shadows needed for Sceadu to continue it’s way beyond the perimeter of the estate.

Two hundred meters away a black mass drops from above to the top of a crumbling wall. A rock shifts, dust flares up, but there is no other sign. In the time the rock takes to roll, tumble and fall to the over grown paving below, Sceadu’s gone. Disappeared to the streets beyond, from shadow to shadow, to the call of the Dark Places.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She hadn’t anticipated it. To say that her guard was down would be a lie; it had been up the entire time she had been conversing with J. But that didn’t mean she’d expected the following event, who could have? One moment their conversation had been fine and the next the form that was J changed. Something within him shifted, she could feel it and then the form she had come accustomed to changed into something else, another form.

It was almost like that of a giant dog that constantly shifted and rippled with movement even while it stood still for that brief second. She never got a true look at it before it leapt at her, just the shape and the eyes. They were so bright against all the shadows, all the darkness. Had he not missed, had he not pulled himself away from her she couldn’t say what would have happened. All she did know was that her instincts took over and forced her to roll to the side and her weapons to form into her hands. Cool steel caressed her calloused palms and fingers and begged for her to use it, but she didn’t. She didn’t need to. They lay dormant in her hands as she crouched in the soft green grass staring into the face of a creature she’d never seen before in her life.

A bestial form, perhaps his true form that no matter how much she looked at it, it could not appear to be that menacing to her. J’s true form was that of death and death was something Ira dealt with on a daily basis, she had no fear for death and thus J’s form did not scare her. Teeth that should have looked ready to rend her flesh from her bones look dull to her eyes and claws that to some looked as if they would pierce their flesh could do nothing more than bruise her. Still, even though no fear gripped her, no words were able to escape her slightly parted lips. She could only crouch there waiting to see what he would do next.

For endless seconds they stare at one another as if waiting to for one to break the stalemate. Then a simple word ripples through the silence. His eyes seem scared yet searching for acceptance and understanding in her at the same time. She can’t truly give any, not yet for she doesn’t understand him but she can show him no fear, which is exactly what she does. Before she can even react, he leaps into the air once again only this time he flees into the tree they had taken refuge under to talk. In the shadows of the many branches his forms disappears to her eyes and she is unable to follow him, even though her eyes desperately search from shadow to shadow attempting to see anything. Seconds pass and she hears nothing, sees nothing and knows within herself that he is gone but still she is unable to look away and unable to drop her weapons. She’s still expecting him to come back just as suddenly as he appeared to her before. But nothing finds her, only the gentle breeze of a cool Radasanthian wind. Nothing more.

A sigh escapes her lips and she finally looks away from the tree to the ground below her. What else could she do but leave? She couldn’t track him or follow him and she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Her half swallows slip from her loose grip. The sharpened blades dig into the soft earth and then disappear as if they had never been. Taking one last look at the rotting house, Ira turns and walks back to the street, back to the Inn. In the back of her mind she has the feeling she’ll meet J again some day. Another place, another time, but until then she wonders what will become of him.

[AdventWings]

...And what a read this is. Good job, both of you! :D

Story

Continuity - 5

It almost appeared to be a random encounter, story-wise. Not very good for making a story, although it does leave enough room for future encounters. There was so much potential that could happen between them and still move along the rough plot... therefore, this short bit pretty much left me wanting.

Setting - 7

Good, vivid scenery that reflected upon the character. Perhaps a bit too much emphasis from Ira, but thankfully not too much. Watch out for over-descriptions and negligence on other aspects, Ira.


Pacing - 5

The way both of you play off each other's posts was slightly off-beat with all the looping back. Although not so grave in application, it still made the story develop too slowly. Some behind-the-scene PMs could do the trick with playing off each other's posts, but that is for you to discuss on your own.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 6

Fairly OK for the both of you. I spotted several misspelled words from both, but the form in which Shadow Reaper used came off as having more in the end. Mainly in the use of commas and sentence structure. Some of the sentences had an odd feel to the wording which could use some tweaking. For Ira, there were a few instances that your word choice came off as repetitive and overly flowery. Not a big offense, but it can make for a fairly dull read. Also, for Shadow Reaper, there was that switch from Past to Present in your first post. But from there on, you kept true with Present Tense in your subsequent posts. Try to stick with one or the other during an entire thread, please. It makes the reading less prone to tripping the readers' attention.

Technique - 6

Not so much that caught my attention. Shadow Reaper seems to have a good grasp on his literary techniques with using varying text sizes to signify verbal tones. Try some metaphors and alliterations in your posts next time, but don't use them too often!

Clarity - 6

Some parts of the posts did not really quite make sense with the overall theme, such as the inclusion of so much detail on the house while it only served as the backdrop for much of the thread's setting. The significance of the Tree as well, which could greatly be expanded upon. Overall, it was fine and easily enjoyable. I just felt there could be so much more gained in the story here.

Character

Dialogue - 7

Both characters, especially J, sounded interesting and enjoyable. The part where Ira explained her "Specialness", though, sounded a bit odd coming from a strong-will lady such as herself. It just semed unlike her to open up to a complete stranger so easily. There was not a lot explained why as well, even if she did say it was because of J's innocent eyes.

Action - 6

It was bearble, for the most parts, but still quite enjoyable.

Persona - 6

J shone particularly well here while Ira appeared a bit dull. J's innocent display was particularly captivating and only enhanced by the sudden shift in physical form.

Miscellaneous

Wild Card - 6

Nothing extraordinary, but nothing bland either. The clash between Present Tense and Past Tense by both writers was particularly annoying, but it did not distract from the reading... too much.

FINAL SCORE – 60!

((Rewards + Spoils))

Ira Shinkara receives 2100 EXP and a bag of 175 GP materializes at her waist for some odd reason. Maybe the two young spirits gave them to her before they disappeared...?

Shadow Reaper receives 900 EXP and 200 GP. Now, where on Althanas could that have come from...?

Have fun in your next encounter, Nya~! :D

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.