RP:A Ghost, But Not Quite

Scenic View of Hollow

Christian sat upon the edge of the precipice, eyes closed to fully embrace the flowing breeze over skin, through snow-hued hair. Lips moved, producing no audible words, just incoherent mumblings and mutterings; a conversation with nature itself.

Kirien was not there a blink ago, and although his arrival upon the hilltop is distinctly abrupt, it is silent. He appears as if from nowhere, rising directly from the ground itself in a soft hiss of displaced earth and pebbles. Standing at the very edge of the cliff, he does not feel the dizzying sensation that might grip most and instead is swaying gently in time with the wind, quiet and comfortable, and altogether serene. After a lengthy pause, the genasi’s head tilts a fraction, his hand lifting to brush in a half-hearted manner at some dirt still clinging to his shoulder. He blinks across at Christian then purses his lips and makes a small, vaguely indignant noise.

Christian had no reason to feel ill-will toward Kirien; had no reason to feel, yet understood and perceived the righteousness in the genasi's anger, as if the very air moved with that single huff translated into a more coherent language. Still, Christian didn't move from his spot, yet emerald eyes opened to peer across the forest below in silence for moments before words were found without hesitation, confidence exuding from each passing syllable. "You've changed, Kirien. It's to be expected. The world is a transcendent beast, constantly evolving at the hands of its inhabitants. To be clear, I won't apologize for leaving you behind. I own my actions; however, I should have given you the respect of a formal departure." Sometimes serenity is the most uncanny force in the universe.

Kirien spends a very long moment regarding Christian sidelong before he turns, fully, and even leans over a touch so as to make a point of squinting at him. It is not as if he can look at the man more closely through by bridging the gap and narrowing the distance between them, as his eye is no longer functioning...but Kirien’s perceptions extend so far beyond mere human vision, and right now all of them are centred on the curious man sitting just along from him at the edge of the world. It seems he makes assumptions, this man, perhaps ones with an acceptable base, but assumptions all the same. Since Kirien does not recognise him, that is really all he cares about. “...Hm,” he says eventually, and blinks. “Confident, aren’t we.” Drawing back, the genasi straightens upright, vulpine ears perked up, the faintest of amused grins curling his lip. There is an uncharacteristically feral edge to that smile that rings familiar to the denizens of the Underdark. “Are you one of my ghosts? Odd, though. I don’t remember you. If you were important, the sight of you should have prompted -some- memory. But...nothing.” The words are nonchalant, indifferent.

Christian hung his head with a smile. "I'll be one of your ghosts, now and forever, and I'll repay my debt in protection, should it mean my own safety. After all, family protects one another to their dying breath. Rational thought will never break such a bond." Christian stood from his position before inhaling deeply and titling his head to vaguely face Kirien before securing his hands within the confines of pockets. "I hope you've kept my coat safe. You deserve that, at least."

Kirien wrinkles his nose, displeased. “I don’t like ghosts.” It’s all carefully enunciated because he wants to make that fact firmly clear. His ghosts are not quite the conventional kind, although they haunt in the same way, flitting to and fro just out of reach, forever reminding him of things lost and irretrievable. “And you are not one of them. I would remember a ghost, even if it was only vaguely.” At last he lifts his gaze from Christian and returns to facing the abyss, though his scrutiny of the other is not quite finished and continues unseen in the background. “There’s not an inch of you I recognise,” says Kirien, blinking a second time. “Not your face, not your bones, nor your feeling or your heartbeat. Your echo isn’t clinging to that coat, even - there are other things...old, indistinct things, but not you. You can’t be a ghost.” His ears twitch, though, and after a pause he glances at him again. “We’re family?”

Christian wasn't relieved; hell, he wasn't anything. Unmoved, and unabashed in regards to the situation, he'd simply state, "Christian. Brother to Kasyr and Satoshi. By default, I assume, we're connected. By more than you know, likely, but if you're content not remembering, I won't force you to, nor could I. Maybe it was all a delusion from the start -- surreal. Reality, that is. Surreal. Your existence has meaning to me, and that's worth something." Christian couldn't blame Kirien, nor would he. He'd then simply rock back and forth upon his heels, turning his gaze to the sky above.

Kirien recognises one of those names, at least, and the other by some sort of shadowy extension. “Chickadee,” he murmurs while Christian continues talking, the genasi half-attentive and bemused. Then, his head jerks back up, a dark frown levelled upon the man as he snaps, “I am not ‘content’ in being incomplete. One day, I might remember everything. Whether or not you are a part of that, ghost or otherwise, remains to be seen.” His shoulders twitch in what might have been a shrug before Kirien promptly falls to lie on his back, legs dangling over the precipice, staring blindly at the white nothingness of the open sky. “I might not ever be the same ‘Kirien’ again, but...I am Kirien at my core. That’s one thing that won’t change.” And it’s all he has. For a moment, he wonders if the stars are blinking above his head; then he asks, “Why were you speaking to me? Before. I could hear you. It’s why I came here.” It had tugged at his soul, the instinctual pull to answer that which spoke to rock and stone and world - for that is Kirien, at his core.

Christian spoke a simple word, "Reconciliation," before his rocking ceased. "As the earth is to you, as the ice is to Satoshi, the wind is to me. Unlike the two of you, I cannot control it, cannot bend it to my will -- those days have come and gone -- but it is, and will always be, a part of me, and I, a part of it. I carry its message, and it, mine. It doesn't matter if you're the same Kirien. I'm surely not the same Christian. That doesn't change the fact: just as the air we breathe, you will always be a part of me."

Kirien listens, both to Christian himself and that extension of him; the crisp breeze that ruffles his auburn hair and, whispering across the cliff top, threads its breath through the gently waving grasses and convinces them to sing. Though he does not require air to survive, he inhales it all the same, tasting clear skies and serenity. Somehow he ends up smiling, this one more light-hearted and open than the vicious expression from before. “Then I suppose it goes both ways. So long as you’re walking in this world, you’ll be a part of me.”

Christian nodded, leaving his head down, allowing those words to sink to his very soul. "Call loud enough, and I'll always come running." With that, he turned his back to Kirien to head from the area. Wind stirred at Christian's feet, a gale which consumed his form until he became a fleeting image, a spectre, though not entirely unattached from reality.