ph_logs | [OPEN] She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

[OPEN] She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

Who: Chris Freeman (

thelatechrisfreeman) & you (or maybe you? perhaps you?)
What: the bitch is back, baby!
When: the month of July
Where: various places around the island
Warning(s): discussion of illness and death likely

I said 'I'm just tired', she said 'You're just high.' [Back to Work]
The reason that Chris hasn't been social, like... at all? For about two months now? Post-flood outbreak of pneumonia among patients of the Winterbottom Clinic. They took full responsibility, refusing much in the way of help, and thus their days have been full of treatment and sometimes palliative care for the most frail.

There were also concerns about not burning through the antibiotic supplies for this particular outbreak, which led to some difficult decisions and even more difficult days and nights...

But now, finally, things are looking up. There haven't been any re-infections for a whole week. Chris walks from their house to the clinic proper, looking forward to a shift filled with cases other than infectious disease.

Feel free to swing by the clinic to say hello, now that they've finally emerged from their self-imposed sequestration.

Oh, I make you cringe now; don't I make you cringe? [Something Life Balance]
Newer arrivals may not remember this or not have been present, but Chris was downright weird upon first coming to Marrow Isle. They've apparently reverted back to that, what with being found up a tree, or on a roof, or wandering along the surf's edge and chattering away to empty air.

Perhaps you feel like figuring out what's going on with them?

Lover come hold me, head's on the fritz [Breaking Bread]
Chris could probably cook for themself, sure. They've had enough practice with baking, and simple cooking. But sometimes meals are about more than getting fed. Sometimes meals are about community.

Perhaps you catch Chris at one of the meals after Wednesday service in the Temple of Sacred Roots. Or maybe you notice them sitting at a table at the Oak and Iron some other night. You'll be waved over to sit beside them once they notice you!

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Being stuck isn't just for the living? That's so cruel. His own determination solidifies as he listens.

"All right. I'm in. That little girl deserves better. I want to make today a happier one for her. Tell me what to do. How can I see her?"

"Why don't you go find a comfortable rock or driftwood to sit on, above the tide line? Heckie will follow you. And I'll be right there in a moment. I just have to..." Chris holds up their sending stone, "call a friend for some supplies."

If John thinks to look back at Chris, though, he'll see that they don't use the sending stone. Instead, Chris's eyes glow red and they vanish into thin air. (It was more of an illustrative gesture; Chris is actually calling on one of their non-human ghost friends.)

After some time, probably after John has found his seat, Chris reappears further up the beach. A shape that is only vaguely humanoid, more closely resembling a cartoon drawing of a ghost, in dark smoke with what looks like a tree stump for a head zips over to Chris and hands over a cloth bag. Chris approaches John again, with the tree-ghost thing following them like a shadow.

"Good spot," Chris comments. "Do you know much about meditation?"

"You got it, Boss. Come along with me Heckie? Just going to assume you're following."

It's a lot easier to believe this is all happening just as described when he does check back on Chris in time to see them vanish. Well. Okay, then. There's something to all this for sure.

A little way down the sand, he finds a nice flat rock to rest on. Crichton pats the stone as he sits, asking "This good? Wanna take a seat with me?" He's asking Heckie, of course. Not that he'd be able to hear the answer but it seems polite to offer.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'm pretty practiced with meditating these days. But first, who the new little friend here?"

"This is Rowan," Chris says, with a nod to their tree-ghost friend. "They come from another world, like the rest of us newcomers. We made friends a while back. Rowan didn't have a name then... they forgot their old one, so I gave a new one."

Chris lifts the cloth bag, letting John take a peek inside the opening. There are a few little glass jars of paint inside. "I met my teacher, the Shade, here as well. He's not around anymore... probably has god business to take care of. I learned a lot about symbols of power and protection from him. He usually does tattoos, but we don't need anything that permanent. So, paint."

Chris kneels beside where John is sitting on the rock, and starts shaking the jars for two different colors of paint -- green and blue. "We want you to meditate and focus on... being alive. Being able to change and grow and see the world as it is. That is what Coral can't do, and I'm hoping it will catch her eye. I'm putting protection symbols so you don't get the notice of anything but Coral and regular human ghosts like her. Sound good?"

"Hi, Rowan. You too, huh?" All kinds of different people and creatures seem to be making their way here. Shame about their name, though.

He peeks at the paint bottles while he listens and nods. Shade... a god. So, this is some pretty potent magic, he's guessing. He might have to write some of this down later for further study.

"I'm with you so far. I've got a lot to focus on when it comes to living and growing. Tell me when you want me to start?"

Rowan nods in response to John's question and vocalizes a soft, "Aaan... ump."

"Rowan can only make a few sounds. There are a few other creatures like them who make different noises, but all of them seem smart enough to understand us," Chris explains. Xe carefully paints a few symbols on John's arms as xey speak.

Xey scrub xeir fingers against the opposite sleeve of xeir shirt, and pick up a new paint color. "Just a few symbols on your face. When I'm done, I'll tell you when to start."

Chris hums a little as they apply the last of the symbols. "You can wash it off in the sea when we're finished. The paint is made with natural ingredients like sap and wheat flour, with other plants for color."

And then they inspect him once more, and nod. "Deep breath in, and begin..."

"That's all right. Nothing I can't handle. Do you have a system for yes and no answers?" He got along with his companion droid well enough using the blink twice for yes method.

He's already starting to focus on slowing his breathing as they mark his arms. He closes his eyes, too, when they put the paint on his face and doesn't bother opening them again. Rather than vocalize an answer, he nods to indicate he heard them.

Chris's humming helps him find his center. It reminds him of an old friend, the one who first taught him to meditate. He's asked himself many times 'what would Zhaan do' and the answer almost never fails him. He misses her. He hopes she's proud of what he's become now.

When Chris tells him to begin, he grabs onto that last thought. There was a time, not very long ago at all, when he thought he was done with life. He wanted to be done with it. And now, a year later, he's grown so much. He's learned magic, he's traveled to new lands and found a new home, he's found family, friendship, and new kinds of love. He can just about picture the gentle smile on Zhaan's face, and that look in her eyes that said 'I told you so' without having to say it. As long as life goes on, there's hope. There's always hope. He can become more.

"Not with Rowan. I think they have a hard time focusing. They feel... young."

Chris looks at John with eyes that glow faintly red. The living look fainter than the dead when Chris watches them with their power activated. (Those who are 'more' dead than usual... Angel, Erik, the Shade when he was here... appear sharper, more in focus.) John's presence fades even more to the death-sight, which lets Chris know that it's working. Chris blinks away the glow, and speaks softly,

"It's not a long walk, to the forest where we can find her. Will you take my hand, John? And let me lead you there? You can open your eyes if you like."

Young. That tugs on his heartstrings even more--which is helpful at this point when the goal of this endeavor is to help another young soul.

He does open his eyes out of reflex, but he also uses that to help him guide his hand to theirs. "Yes. I'll follow your lead." And he will keep his eyes open just so he doesn't stumble over a root and trip. That would break his concentration.

"Let's go help her."

"All right, Heckie," Chris says, after John's hand slips into theirs, "lead the way to Coral." To John, they say, "Since I can see him and interact with you, I'm the intermediary. Just getting everyone where they need to be."

Heckie Markas moves quickly up the beach and to the tree line, and Chris follows after, keeping a strong grip on John's hand as they go. The woods are ~~lovely dark and deep~~ still dappled with afternoon sunlight and warm where the light falls. So when a chill strikes, it seems all the colder for the suddenness.

"It was night when she wandered away from safety, and she's carried that night ever since," Chris intones solemnly. "You will likely see her. I can't reliably share my 'ghost sight', but some of those power sigils I've painted on you will boost any natural sensitivity to the paranormal that you have, John."

It may take some time, as the mismatched little party goes deeper into the woods, but Coral will make her appearance. She's a girl of about nine years of age, with reddish-brown hair tied up in two pigtails, face splashed with freckles and dominated by rather prominent ears and a wide mouth. Her brown eyes shine with curiosity as she walks along the path, sturdy leather shoes tapping with almost no hesitation. She looks around, still more curious than afraid.

The fear comes later.

But perhaps not, if she sees John... if he's 'bright' enough with life to be noticed even to her memory-blinkered gaze.

"I'm with ya."

He follows along hand in hand with Chris, continuing to keep his attention on slow breathing and staying calm. He has to work a little harder at it when the temperature plummets suddenly around them. Okay, here they go. He doesn't know what he expects to see. If he has any latent abilities it will be news to him, but he's been surprised by his own capabilities before.

So, mark another tally on the board for this one because there she is, a little hazy, but visible all the same. She's... heartbreakingly adorable. He could easily picture her playing in the sun, catching more freckles on her small face.

Crichton steels his resolve and calls out to her, "Hey there, little lady? What are you up to out here?"

"Oh!" The little girl spins in place toward Crichton's voice, eyes wide with surprise. "I only wanted a peek at the monster, mister! Don't tell my mama!"

Chris whispers, so that only Crichton can hear them, "She doesn't believe that the monster will eat her. Children think they are immortal... and she's wrong on both counts."

Coral's ghost comes a few steps closer, and she is only focused on John Crichton. Heckie and Chris are too ghostly for her to notice, with John being so solid and real and alive in their little party.

"I'm not making any trouble, sir!"

Children think they're immortal. Tragically, part of growing up is losing the belief that the world and the monsters in it won't hurt you. His chest aches for her, that she'll never get to grow up to learn that lesson at all. But he can still help her. He can be one less tragic thing in her world.

"Don't worry. I won't tell," he says with one hand offered out to her. "But you shouldn't go all alone. It's easy to get lost out here."

Coral pauses, looking uncertain as he offers a hand. "Lyndia said if I wasn't scared, I'd find the Pine Devil.... I don't want Lyndia to think I'm a... a coward."

She glances back, toward the deeper woods. "I told her... I'd bring proof... that I found it."

Whoever this Lyndia is, he hopes she feels bad about baiting a young girl to her death this way. He has half a mind to go search the courthouse records to see if anything ever came of it.

"Here's the thing. To me, it sounds like Lyndia is the coward because she's asking you to come out here and do something she's not brave enough to do herself. If she wasn't, she would have come with you instead of asking for proof. I think you should go do something more fun and not worry about what she thinks. The pine devil isn't all that much fun to look at."

He motions with his hand again, "My name is John Crichton. What's yours?"

(Chris, for xir part, does not know who Lyndia is, having never encountered her. Xey know that plenty of families abandoned Marrow Isle while they could... before the barrier went up. Chris isn't entirely clear on whether the Pine Devil was killing and eating people before or after the barrier. But Lyndia and her family might still be in Pumpkin Hollow.)

"I'm... I'm Coral Ellis." She still seems cautious about accepting his hand, because she says, "I never heard of a Cri-- Crichton family before...? Are you new?" Coral stumbles a little over his unfamiliar last name, but she mimics his pronunciation well.

Behind her, there are sounds of underbrush shifting, and a loud 'clack-- skitter' like a rock being kicked. Coral turns, quick and anxious, toward the sound. The forest around Coral and John seems even darker, and more ominous.

"What was that??"

"Yes, I'm new. I moved here recently, all by myself. I work as an enforcer and I read about the Pine Devil. That's why I know so much about it." The best bluffs are rooted in truth, after all.

He turns to where the noise seems to originate, eyes wary though he can't make out much in the dark. "I don't know yet, but maybe you should get behind me in case it's something dangerous."

It's not Chris's voice that John will hear saying, "Here it comes -- her memory of it!"

The Pine Devil that lunges toward them is at least nine feet tall, a huge, hulking beast with jet black fur and blazing blue eyes. Its huge antlers are shiny-dark, perhaps wet with blood. The twisted hands with too-long fingers grasp for Coral and miss, then rake deep furrows in the earth. And it roars again as Coral cowers behind John and screams.

"Pick her up!" Chris shouts. Their own eyes are burning red like coals in the darkness, and the glow faintly illuminates the ghostly face of Heckie to John's vision for just a moment, "Pick her up and run!"

Up to this point, Crichton hasn't ever seen the Pine Devil in person, so he has no way to know this isn't how she should look. All he knows is he isn't interested in getting too close. Even as Chris is shouting, Crichton is already stooping to scoop Coral into his arms. His gaze briefly meets Heckie's, registering shock, but every sinew in his body is already screaming to take flight and his feet quickly obey that command.

"I'll get us out of here," he tells Coral as he cradles the back of her head in his palm to make sure she keeps herself tucked close. He doesn't want to take the chance of knocking her into any trees while running wildly through the dark.

"Chris!" he calls without looking back, "Sound off if you're still with me."

Chris can't come the phone right now! Why? Because they're--

getting flung into a tree. Chris bounces off the trunk and falls to the ground with a wheeze and a groan.

This nightmare version of the Pine Devil has been feeding off Coral's fear for so long that it has gained enough power to lash out at other ghostly beings. And Chris is on the ghostly side of the sliding scale for sure.

But can this nightmare construct handle being swarmed by dozens of Marrow Isle's lingering ghosts? Several of them materialize out of the woods as Crichton runs past, and fly toward the creature -- either to hit it or cling to it and keep it from giving chase.

"I'm scared!" Coral wails, clinging tightly to John Crichton with one arm slung around the back of his neck, and hiding her face against his shoulder. "The Pine Devil is gonna eat me! Eat us both!!"

His eyes are wide enough to show the whites all around as he beholds ghostly outlines pelting past him. He turns to look when he gets no answer and is horrified to see Chris downed at the base of a tree. But those ghosts... are they coming to their aid?

"No," Crichton answers Coral firmly, "No one is getting eaten tonight. I'm not gonna let that happen. I promise you." He keeps running. Saying a prayer in his mind that Chris will pull through, but right now the most important thing is getting Coral away safely. Just this once.

Crichton is correct -- the most important thing is getting Coral to safety. As they get distance from the nightmare Pine Devil, its roars get weaker and softer, and the frightening darkness of the forest recedes into normal, late afternoon warmth.

The nightmare Pine Devil falls silent and Coral lifts her head. "We... did we get away?"

The oppressive atmosphere that resulted from Coral's memories is lifting, scattering like pre-dawn fog in the face of the rising sun. Despite the tear tracks that can be seen on her face, Coral gives a small, hopeful smile.

".... I should get home..." Coral says softly.

He slows from a run to a walk, still breathing hard, but he doesn't put her down yet. Not yet. Just let him hold her safe in his arms a little longer.

"We got away," Crichton confirms for her with a soft smile. "We're okay. Told you we'd be okay."

Home. If only he could take her home. If only that was a real option. He can't tell he it isn't, so, instead, he says, "Which way is home?"

Coral scrubs at her face, then silently points the way down one of the paths back toward the town. She cuddles into the warmth and safety of Crichton's grasp. She doesn't want to walk on her own just yet, either.

For a while, as they walk, the little girl's ghost will feel fairly substantial and solid in Crichton's arms. But as they make their way to the village, she'll fade slowly. If he keeps going and crosses into the village proper, she'll vanish entirely, like morning mist at dawn.

Chris will step up, as if walking through an invisible curtain, on Crichton's left side, and quietly lay a hand onto his shoulder. Nothing is said for the moment.

But they have done something good.

As he starts to feel the weight of her lighten, it's like it's being transferred to a shroud over his heart instead. This little girl he holds safe in his arms is precious in her own right, but at the same time she represents something larger to Crichton. This time, just this once, he was able to change something meaningfully. He stopped the suffering of one little soul and it was good.

He doesn't turn at the touch of Chris's hand on his shoulder. Somehow, he knows who it is without needing to look. He'd kept his faith in Chris, and they have prevailed. Tears leak from his eyes, and his voice is a watery croak from holding back sobs, but something important still needs to be said. To Chris, to himself, to Coral, to whatever hands of fate put him where he needed to be at the exact right time.

"Thank you."

Even if poor Coral cannot yet be free of this island completely, Crichton still feels as if one restless spirit has been soothed this day. His own.

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[OPEN] She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

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