ph_logs | September Mini - Ghost of the Past

September Mini - Ghost of the Past

GHOSTS

THE

PAST

The Visitor's Center

Just where the sands of Tawny Beach begin to fade into soil, grass, and cobbled roads, there is a new building. Much like the House of Cards, it seems to have appeared from nowhere overnight. A large and round structure of tastefully stacked stone, it seems to fit perfectly in between the town and the marina, with an exterior door facing each side and at both entrances. It reads, "VISITOR'S CENTER," in bold letters.

In mailboxes throughout town, there are flyers, advertising "offworlder visitation" running from September 6th to 19th. "Make appointment today!" it advertises cheerfully.

Regardless of which side you enter, the same receptionist sits at the desk on either side--- a pretty-faced young man with braided black hair, wearing dozens of pieces of delicate golden jewelry. He is working hard on some sort of paperwork or taking some phone call when you come in, but he quickly sets it aside to welcome you. "Hello! Welcome to the visitor's center! Would you like to make an appointment?"

Your host artfully dances around questions regarding the place, its abrupt construction, its purpose, and what your appointment actually entails, assuring you it's "self-explanatory." He'll gladly inform you that "people you know" are here for a visit, but won't say who or why or for how long. But you'll sign up for your appointment anyway, for one reason or another. Perhaps you don't even really know.

At the time of your appointment, you are sat down in a tasteful meeting space of your choosing (the options are listed below) and your guest is brought in. But it is not who you expect. In fact, in all likelihood, you do not know this person at all. But don't worry, they've been briefed, and they'll pass the information along to you if asked.

You see, you are not here to meet someone from your own past, at least not at first---- you're here to meet someone close to one of your friends or neighbors. And they're here to speak about that person to you.

Take as long as you need. The Visitor's Center does not close.

How It Works

Visitors.
Each offworlder on the island can have up to 2 "ghosts of their past." This is not meant to be literal, as these so-called ghosts will generally be no more dead than any other offworlder. Your ghost can be anyone who "haunts" you in some way, which can mean whatever makes sense to you. It does not necessarily need to be someone with a negative opinion of you--- it can be someone who loves you very much! This person can be from any point in your timeline, including after the incident that brought you to Pumpkin Hollow. It can also be a past version of yourself. Regardless, your own visitor is not actually the person you are here to meet. Your visitor will be meeting with one of your friends or loved ones from the island, and you will be meeting with someone else's "ghost."

When speaking to a "ghost", you will notice a few things about them. The first is that they do have a sense of where they are and what they're doing---- they know that they're here temporarily, and that they've been asked to speak about or on behalf of someone they know. They're aware of who the person is that they've come to speak about as well, and they seem to have all of their memories intact aside from being a little fuzzy on the actual process of getting here. The second is that in most cases, they seem to have regular needs like any living person. The upper floors of the visitor's center have hostel-like sleeping areas, bathrooms, a cafe, everything a person might need. The third is that they seem to be weirdly forthcoming when asked questions. Perhaps you're not familiar enough with the individual to notice such things at first, but it becomes evident that they're pretty open about the person they're there to speak about even when they don't seem to want to be.

Want to speak to your own visitor? That can be arranged--- but your ghost must speak to someone else first. But not to worry, there's plenty of time. (Despite the IC dates, OOCly this can be backtagged as long as desired!)

Locations.
There are plenty of places to meet with visitors within the Visitor's Center. If you'd prefer a more public meeting space, some lounge areas have been set up on the beach, or the cafe or recreation area within the center are all available. The beach meeting spaces consist of clusters of folding beach chairs or picnic blankets, and while swimming season is largely over, the view from the beach continues to be stunning this month. The cafe is a quaint bistro on the rooftop of the center with a round serving station in the middle and outdoor tables around the outer walls, which feels both spacious and intimate at the same time somehow. And the recreation room is an interior space on the second floor full of spaces for communal games, some of which are too modern to be there. (Not electronics, but definitely Cards Against Humanity.)

If you'd prefer a more private space, there are a number of tasteful meeting rooms, including those with tables as if for a more formal meeting or those with couches or chairs. One of the latter sort even has a fireplace!

However, visitors are not able to go further afield than the beach. If they attempt to go into town, their feet will plant themselves firmly to the ground outside. They will not be able to be pushed or lifted to get around this, and anyone who attempts to force it will be summarily accosted by the staff and their appointment will end immediately. They may not be eligible for another.

Rules.
As far as OOC rules go, there are a few perks and limitations worth knowing. Any "ghosts" that you write are eligible for AC bonuses for the characters they are attached to. If you are writing a ghost for another player's character, you may decide where the AC bonus goes, but please make a note on your activity check indicating what you're doing. You may write your ghost from your existing journal (with or without a unique icon for that ghost, just as long as you make it clear), or create an independent journal for the character. As mentioned before, you can absolutely play a ghost for someone else. If you would like to have a non-member friend drop by to play your ghost, you may absolutely do so if you clear it with a mod, preferably by having said friend send the mod journal a PM. Be aware that if you recruit an outside player to write a ghost for you, you are responsible for their behavior, and any AC-length threads on their end will not be eligible for transfer because that will just kill Drake probably.

Characters appearing from Ghosts of the Past can also appear in the Villain's Lounge or be apped in later as permanent characters (but not both, as the two are mutually exclusive) and will have some unique lore from entering the game this way!

Ghosts are not capable of lying and will generally feel more compelled to be forthcoming when speaking to anyone OTHER than the person they're here to represent. However, they cannot be forced to meet with anyone they do not want to see or to answer questions they adamantly do not wish to answer. The compulsions are relatively subtle. They also do not have to volunteer information they weren't asked for if they don't want to. None of these compulsions are present if they speak to the person they are there to see. Their memories are generally accurate to whatever point you bring them from, meaning that they can be whatever you want.

If you're visiting with your own ghost, please be aware that threads between two characters played by the same person are never eligible for AC and this is still the case in this instance.

Staff.
Last but not least, there's a chance that you may encounter the staff of the Visitor's Center around. There are two men and two women--- Daanon, Caspian, Reyelle, and Nephera, respectively. Those here in February may recognize them from Merrymeet. They look fairly normal, generally appearing as humans (or an elf, in Nephera's case), but in reality they are the members of the Court of Betrayal. Whenever they speak about their "Manager," they are referring to Eligos. However, this is not immediately obvious, especially to those not familiar with these particular demons. If you know, you know! [ I will be keeping my demon thread load super light, so please feel free to handwave interactions with them as you see fit! If you want a demon thread, please reach out to me for plotting. -Rose ]

CODE BY MARWOOD

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"Oooh, I got chills," he mocks. She still doesn't snarl his name as well as Scorpius used to.

"What will be? There will be nothing. You talk as if it's the fulfillment of something but it's not. What do you get when everyone's dead? Nothing. You get nothing. It's just over."

It does worry him, though, the idea that she has something more within her that she can't control. It sounds too familiar.

"Who is 'He?'"

"Our loving Father, of course."

He'll find her. Even a world away, He can find her, she's certain.

"What comes after the final sacrifice is not mine to question. What I will be - what everyone will be - depends on how the world is reshaped. That is an affair for higher powers."

"Loving. Sure." Weird definition of love if you ask him. Most loving parents want their kids to live long happy lives.

"Sounds like a cop-out answer to me. Those higher powers don't give a shit about you. You're a tool. As soon as they're done using you you'll go right on the pile with the rest of 'em. You have no idea what love actually is and you never will. That's just sad."

She laughs, something cold and brittle.

"Gods, you sound like someone I know. Only he lamented his position, a dead man walking. Why is it so impossible to you to comprehend that I understand that I am a vessel for His will? It is the reason for my existence. I understand what my life is meant to be. And I know exactly when I will die, and how. These things are not unknown to me. I am not eternal."

What did he think final meant? Did he think somehow that everyone did not mean everyone?

"That thing you call love - that version of it, we've never needed it. Or will you still claim you feel it, knowing what we will do and what we have done? You can't stop it. The only reason I am so open in this place is because none of you can stop me."

She cannot die a lasting death here. None of them will follow her, when she returns. So why not horrify them and leave scars in her wake, for her own amusement?

"I will continue. And so will she, when this place releases her."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," he says with a morose shake of his head. It really is like talking to a brick wall.

"It's a good thing the you of the future is a lot less scared to question her life's worth. It's going to work out a lot better for her than it is for you. Out of your ashes, she'll rise to be something more."

On that, he rises too, and moves decisively to the doorway. But, he's not about to leave without one last parting shot.

"I do love Fever. I'm going to go tell her that right now, because it does matter. And you'll never understand that emptiness you've felt all your life without it. Hope that keeps you up at night."

The answering disdain in her gaze is something endless, but he doesn't have to see it long.

Meanwhile, the Fever he's more familiar with will take his call - she's at the Temple, but she'll be done soon, and will gladly meet him outside of it and go wherever he wants to go. True to her word, by the time he heads over, she's stepping out, gently nudging a particularly empty headed orange cat out of the way with her foot.

"Christopher, no," she scolds, keeping him from getting whiskers shut in the door. Looking up to Crichton, she tries to smile. "So, you ignored all my warnings."

Christopher's feline antics provide a much-needed moment to breathe for him, but the respite is short-lived when he sees the way Fever is trying so hard to smile and yet... not quite selling it.

"I did," he answers with a conciliatory amount of shame in his tone. "But I'm not sorry for it. If you're worried what she said was going to make me hate you then let me put that to bed right now. I love you, Fever, as a friend and as a deeply trusted companion. That hasn't changed. Every single thing that woman said and did was aimed at trying to sabotage this life you're fighting for and like hell am I going to let her do that. It only proved to me how much my respect for you is earned."

For a second she's quiet, looking at him with an expression that can only be described as keeping herself together. Contained, to herself.

"All she's been doing is telling people the truth, Crichton." Her voice is soft, even as she wants to turn around and go back into the Temple, waiting for him to realize he's made a mistake. "The truth is what wants to undo this life. Not...not her."

Whatever he's been told, whether it be her own mountain of corpses or her own death, it's true. And that's what she's been telling herself to be ready for, when it unravels.

(It still hurts.)

"Fever," he says in gentle reproach. "If you want to get technical about it, what wants to undo this life you're building is the Father that made you like this."

She looks so ready to bolt that a part of him longs to reach out and grab her to make sure she can't, but he knows how he'd react to that so he doesn't. He offers his hand out to her instead.

"She told the truth the way she sees it. She said she didn't need to be loved, that her purpose was enough and she didn't care that everyone including her would die. Is that the truth?"

At first, speaking is hard. She looks at him, trying to find the accusations, the fear, the revulsion that she's seen. What she knows she's earned. But there is none of it. Just John Crichton, who knows about Father - the one who doesn't deserve the title she gives with love to another. But the one bound up in her blood regardless, woven into what makes her up.

She reaches out to take his hand, and holds it tight. Tight enough that it's obvious she's trying to take strength from it. There's a part of her that howls that she doesn't deserve his comfort, his friendship, his care. It won't stop her from holding on.

"It used to be."

But not anymore. She doesn't want to live like that anymore. Gods, she wants to live.

"C'mere," he says with a little tug on her hand, not to let go but to pull her closer so he can get her into a hug if she'll let him.

"That's what I thought. I'm sorry I didn't see what you were struggling with before, but I do now. I want to help you keep going. I love you, Fever--all of you, not just the nice and pleasant parts. That's what the past version of you couldn't understand. That's what loving someone really is."

He looks at her as seriously as he can, not letting her evade his gaze. "You can be more than your past. You can be more than the purpose you were created for. You already are."

She says nothing for a long moment, more collapsing into the hug than anything else. It's loud, so loud in her head, the thoughts that say she's not more yet. As long as he's bound in her, as long as she still feels the way she does, everyone's still at risk. All of those people are still dead. If she could weep, she might have - but still, she can't pass that barrier. Only feel it all in her chest as a storm, and exhale, shaky, trying to steady herself again.

Tell that to the others, a very small voice says. Gods, I'm trying, I'm trying,-

No. She doesn't get that. She forfeited the right to that protest the minute she chose to not lie about it. The minute she chose to get closer to people. Endure. This was always expected.

What isn't, though, is the support. From him, from those that understand innately, from other sources. So she makes herself keep breathing, even so.

"...I should have told you myself."

She could have never told him herself. Not that much.

He holds her close, a sturdy pillar for her to lean against. He can't imagine the turmoil she's in. And he knows that no matter what he imagines, the reality of the blood on her hands is so much worse. But she's his friend and he's not going anywhere. If he could love Aeryn, for all her faults, then Fever is no different.

"I understand why you didn't. But now I know, and I'm still by your side. You don't have to do this alone. Don't shut me out, Fever. Let me help you."

Please, she wants to say. Kindness like this is something she feels she doesn't deserve. But to say that aloud is impossibly self-pitying, telling him what to do when he looked her other self in the eyes. Doubtlessly, she told him things that should make his blood curdle. And yet, he's still here. In answer, she hugs him a little tighter, hoping that conveys it more than trying to place the sentiment in words.

"It could be dangerous for you, sticking around like this. On your head be it."

Please stay, even so.

It more than conveys the sentiment. He understands the struggle to accept when others say you aren't the complete monster you believe yourself to be. If everything he went through that made him feel that way has left him able to help someone else on the other side of it, then maybe it was worth going through. If it means he's still a monster, then at least he's in good company. Regardless, she's stuck with him.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, Fever," he answers solemnly. She's not joking. The Dark Urge was convinced this would end in blood, and he thinks that conviction still lurks. It might even be right. So be it. He can live with the danger. At this point, he's not sure he'd know how to live without the danger.

"I've got faith in you. It ain't ever gonna be perfect, but I know you can be more."

Pulling back enough to look at his face, it'd be hard not to read the open relief in her expression. He's taking it seriously - and still saying that. It's more than she could have asked of anyone.

"And I have some precautions in place, for when I'm not."

To protect him, and everyone else. Maybe one day, they won't be necessary - but they're currently in place, and that makes it easier.

"Can you tell me what those are or would that defeat the purpose?"

He's still completely serious. As serious as he was when he was asking his closest friends to stop him if Harvey ever took over again. If Fever were to ask for the same in return, he wouldn't hesitate. He's lived through the nightmare of hurting his own friends without meaning to, he'll do whatever it takes to spare her from that.

"They're no secret. There's at least five people in town who know enough to know that should I lose control, that I need to be restrained, subdued. Killed, if it's prudent. If it saves on the suffering."

A beat. "Not all of them know everything. But. Enough to take me seriously."

"You can count me as another one of 'em," he tells her. "You're a better hand-to-hand fighter but you've seen me shoot. If it's important enough, Fever, I won't miss."

A pause.

"Buuuut, if it's all the same to you, I'll probably call for some backup first. I'm no heavy hitter, but I'm friends with enough of 'em."

This shouldn't give her cause to smile a little. All the more reason to do so.

"Call whoever you want. As long as you remember I will thank you when it's over."

A pause.

"And now as well."

The smile fills him with relief. He was betting on her feeling similarly, but it still felt a little risky promising to kill her as a gesture of goodwill. What interesting times they continue to live in.

"I asked the same of others, once, you know? When Harvey was still a problem. You're welcome, Fever. I hope it helps you sleep a little easier." He knows it did for him, in a weird way.

"Valdis is on my short list to call, in case you wondered. No one I trust more than her." He staked his life on it once already.

She nods, and although she hasn't quite let go of him, it's not so desperate at the moment.

"Valdis knows all this about me, actually. I told her soon after we all arrived on these shores. She won't be surprised if you come calling in those circumstances."

Or if Fever hasn't called out already. She doesn't often think about that particular bond, but it's there, in case of an emergency. In case she's alone and can no longer bear it.

"...do you have more questions?" Tentative. She has to keep being honest.

"Good. I'm glad to hear she's already in your corner." Even better, he won't need to explain if that moment ever comes.

"A few," he admits. Though, they are less about what she is and more about how she's doing. "Is this why you have headaches so often?"

"No, thankfully. That's more physical."

She lets go enough to take his hand, bring it up to the back of her head. Under the hair, there's a scar, less than an inch long.

"What I've pieced together is that I got surprised. I'd like to say it was a fair fight, but...I got stabbed in the head. Didn't have the good sense to die from it. It took my memories instead, handed me headaches in their place. Makes things murkier from time to time."

And it needed to happen. It's the best thing that ever happened to her. It's the worst thing that ever happened to her.

"The circlet helps with all of that. Keeps it clearer. Makes it somewhat less painful."

He doesn't resist letting her guide his hand to her head. His eyes go wide when his fingers find the scar tissue there.

"Jesus..." he breathes in amazed horror. "I'm sorry it still causes you that much pain." But, if this is what changed her from the woman he met in the visitors center to the woman she is now, he can't exactly say he's sorry it happened.

"Might seem a little superstitious of me, but I'd like to think you surviving was fate. You're still needed. So, I'm glad you're around. Warts and all."

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September Mini - Ghost of the Past

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