She pats your shoulder and steps back, and when you turn your head to peer at her, she's braced herself against the wall instead. "Is this distance sufficient?" she asks, and you blinks.
"Umm.. it's aight," you say, dubious. You have no idea what the fuck she's doing, and the best you can tell is that it's some sort of weird greenblood thing: she does that, sometimes, goes off to do weird shit and claims it's just like, proper behaviour later on. "You gonna have to scoot back on up in a min, though."
Staring at her is pointless, so you shrug, turn your attention back to the ladder and get to work.
As far as you're concerned, any troll could probably see ghosts, if they just tried. It's not like it's hard! It's just a matter of unfocusing your ganderbulbs, and letting them see what they want to see, not what you think they should see.
When you do it, the room blurs to a muddy gray mess, until all that's left is the coloured shapes of trollish forms. Most of them are immaterial, barely more than blood-coloured smudges in the corner of your eyes. Those are the imprints, the results of ghosts rubbing up on each other too much over the course of sweeps: they've forgotten their names and their shapes and even their blood colours, in some cases, until all that's left is a voice and a pan that doesn't know how to use them. The only proper ghost in the sewer right now is a big, hornless blue one, and the leash tying him to your horns shines ember bright in the dark of the room.
You sent most of your ghosts on home when Marduk first sent you that message, but you kept one leashed, just in case. The death rate in the city is super, duper high, which is great, because there's always ghosts around to wrangle if you need it. But it's easier to work with the ones you know, and you've known Castor forever.
"- can't believe you brought a jadeblood into the sewers," he says, as his voice fizzles and sizzles into your hearing range. You can always hear ghosts, if you want to: it's not like looking, where you've gotta focus. It's more like hearing the creak of bones in the floor below, and knowing if it's a ghoul or a revenant. Just a matter of paying attention.
Mostly, it's not worth it. Especially in Castor's case. If he wants your attention, he'll holler, but all he usually does is whine, whine, whine, like he's doing right now.
"Cry more," you jeer. Castor's the first ghost you ever leashed, and he's just a big whiny grub, always acting like he's trying to be your moirail -- or, worse yet, your lusus. He was pleased as punch when you and Mardie started getting friendly, but if he had things his way, he'd have you as stiff-laced as one of her academy pals. "Buck up and bounce, dude? I don't wanna get jumped."
He sighs and gives you a look, the sort that means you'll be hearing shit later. Whatevs: when Castor's not complaining, that's when there's a problem. He disappears up the ladder, balancing each foot and pulling with his arms like he still needs to do that shit, and a moment later, you hear his voice call down:
"All clear."
You bounce with delight. "Okay," you chirp, spinning on your heel to snatch hold of Mardie's hand. She's looking at you like you're speaking tongues, but she makes that face a lot, and you pay it no mind as you tug her towards the ladder. You'll climb up first, 'course, but poor Mardie's blind as a bat, and you don't trust her not to go falling into the pipes as soon as you turns your back. "Let's bail!"
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She pats your shoulder and steps back, and when you turn your head to peer at her, she's braced herself against the wall instead. "Is this distance sufficient?" she asks, and you blinks.
"Umm.. it's aight," you say, dubious. You have no idea what the fuck she's doing, and the best you can tell is that it's some sort of weird greenblood thing: she does that, sometimes, goes off to do weird shit and claims it's just like, proper behaviour later on. "You gonna have to scoot back on up in a min, though."
Staring at her is pointless, so you shrug, turn your attention back to the ladder and get to work.
As far as you're concerned, any troll could probably see ghosts, if they just tried. It's not like it's hard! It's just a matter of unfocusing your ganderbulbs, and letting them see what they want to see, not what you think they should see.
When you do it, the room blurs to a muddy gray mess, until all that's left is the coloured shapes of trollish forms. Most of them are immaterial, barely more than blood-coloured smudges in the corner of your eyes. Those are the imprints, the results of ghosts rubbing up on each other too much over the course of sweeps: they've forgotten their names and their shapes and even their blood colours, in some cases, until all that's left is a voice and a pan that doesn't know how to use them. The only proper ghost in the sewer right now is a big, hornless blue one, and the leash tying him to your horns shines ember bright in the dark of the room.
You sent most of your ghosts on home when Marduk first sent you that message, but you kept one leashed, just in case. The death rate in the city is super, duper high, which is great, because there's always ghosts around to wrangle if you need it. But it's easier to work with the ones you know, and you've known Castor forever.
"- can't believe you brought a jadeblood into the sewers," he says, as his voice fizzles and sizzles into your hearing range. You can always hear ghosts, if you want to: it's not like looking, where you've gotta focus. It's more like hearing the creak of bones in the floor below, and knowing if it's a ghoul or a revenant. Just a matter of paying attention.
Mostly, it's not worth it. Especially in Castor's case. If he wants your attention, he'll holler, but all he usually does is whine, whine, whine, like he's doing right now.
"Cry more," you jeer. Castor's the first ghost you ever leashed, and he's just a big whiny grub, always acting like he's trying to be your moirail -- or, worse yet, your lusus. He was pleased as punch when you and Mardie started getting friendly, but if he had things his way, he'd have you as stiff-laced as one of her academy pals. "Buck up and bounce, dude? I don't wanna get jumped."
He sighs and gives you a look, the sort that means you'll be hearing shit later. Whatevs: when Castor's not complaining, that's when there's a problem. He disappears up the ladder, balancing each foot and pulling with his arms like he still needs to do that shit, and a moment later, you hear his voice call down:
"All clear."
You bounce with delight. "Okay," you chirp, spinning on your heel to snatch hold of Mardie's hand. She's looking at you like you're speaking tongues, but she makes that face a lot, and you pay it no mind as you tug her towards the ladder. You'll climb up first, 'course, but poor Mardie's blind as a bat, and you don't trust her not to go falling into the pipes as soon as you turns your back. "Let's bail!"