RP:Ghost Whisperer
Summary: Edlin runs into an old friend or something... He doesn't know, but he hopes to give her and Quizzical some closure.
Towering Tenements
Stone tenements rise high on either side of the street, made of granite, the gray stone covered by trellises of ivy. The vast majority of Larket's citizens live here, with its convenient, central location and moderate rents. A steady stream of humanity flows in and out of the iron gates, running up and down the stairs, laughing and talking. It is almost as if this is a smaller city inside Larket itself. Harold, the designer and overseer of the construction of the tenements, has an office on the ground level, where he still offers his services. The street runs into the town center to the east, and off into a quieter part of town to the west.
Irenic was trying to wander far from Rynvale as far as he could with a limp and lack of wings. He meanders pasts the tenements that used to stand tall before they crushed so many people and some of them still living in tents, but the few days he spent looking those months ago he ended up saving quite a number of people by accident. Tawny and scuffed up hands shove into his pockets when strangers approach him and thank him to which he would only give a nod and not accept any prize for it. He wasn't there for them that day, but he was there looking for a young boy. His body language shifted slightly as if he just realized something, but he was actually hearing something and seeing something no one else could. He excused himself from the small group of people that happened to gather until he was earshot away from them with his back turned to them. A nervous habit of his hand running through dusky graying hair as he asks a question in a hushed tone to no one. A pause and another question…. he seemed to be having conversations with something or someone that wasn't there.
Sabrina was in the process of carrying items to the newly finished Ara, stocks were bare but it would be easier to inventory on a blank slate anyway. She spies Irenic and against her better judgement approaches, shifting the gear to one shoulder while she reaches up to tap him three times on the shoulder with gloved finger. “You look insane.” Her tone was not exactly hushed, but he had already done himself the honor of drawing attention. She runs her hand along the bend of his elbow, leveraged by the hand being tucked into his pocket snugly. She’d make a humble effort to drag him off to the side and out of attention central. “Do you even remember me?” She had come to the conclusion that he hadn’t, after being offered no recognition the last few times she had laid eyes on him.
Irenic looked over his shoulder, but saw no one until he had to look down and mismatched eyes recognized her from the last day he saw Quizzical’s body. He's being dragged away now and allows it for he doesn't exactly care what he looks like to other people, but so much for effort. He glanced next to Sabrina at something that would be shorter than her for a brief moment and then back to her to tell her he does remember she tried to save Quizzical, “Oui. Vous avez essayé de sauver Quizzical.” It might be now she notices something off about the Avian for he had the ears, height, favorite scent, and tattoos, but no large velvety ivory wings. In his form during the day he looks almost normal, but cannot speak common which leaves him with his native tongue. Veretian or what we would call, French and it really dulls the usual dry gruff timbre of his voice. At the mention of the death of the orphan he looked a little pained in his eyes, but he was distracted by something next to her again. After a small pause those mismatched eyes look back to her as he asks her if there was something he was neglecting to remember, “Quelque chose oublie?” All the while trying to sort of pantomime so she can somewhat guess what he was saying.
Sabrina didn't need to guess, the Avian race was an old one and so the outline of a base dialect was at some point submerged in her studies. She had rarely heard the language and that was decades ago, and never from the mouth of a true Avian, so while it sounded strange to begin with she could pick up the general idea. There would be no return attempt at speaking it though, it was clear he understood her just fine. "Tried and failed, Irenic... what is wrong with you?" Of course she noticed the absence of wings, a punishment for some crime she had figured, but she knew so little about him since his return and there were whispers that he had been to the other side. There was a great deal she did not understand about that as well, dark arts were more of a witchy trait and she could not begin to grasp the oddities involved. She looks beside her, even slightly behind. What was he looking at? His final question brought a cant to her head. She was confused. He remembered nothing beyond that boy she couldn't save. Now she struggled with the thoughts of telling him or not. By the looks of him he didn't need any more strife in his life. Taking a step back she gives a final look of concern. "I wronged you, you should not trust me." She was even surprised by her words, but it was the truth, the woman was nothing but trouble. Had he injuries worth healing she had purpose for that, but he wasn't right in the head and she did not wish to make it worse.
Irenic made an expression as if he was trying to think hard. A subtle shrug given as he carefully explains, “I’ve wronged a lot of people.” Explains the curse, possibly. “I'm not worried about it,” he glanced away again at something and got quiet a moment before speaking a bit quickly that he’ll tell her, just hold on, “D'accord, je lui dirai. promettre.” That mismatched gaze inspects Sabrina for a moment as he slowly and clearly states to her, “I thank you for trying as you did and so does Quizzical… He knows you didn't even have to try, but the fact that you took a chance on him means a lot to him... He doesn't want you to say you failed anymore and he doesn't want you to be sad about it.” He got quiet again and quickly asked no one if that was all and if he can go to the light now, “Était-ce cela? Pouvez-vous voir la lumière?” Another pause with a sort of exhausted sigh and he rebuked slow enough, “I don't know how to end the curse. It's not that simple,” he realized how odd this might seem and sort of smirks at Sabrina in an embarrassed way, but he noticed her gloves and how odd that is, “why are you wearing those?” It seems warm out and she doesn't looks like she wearing them to go with some fancy ensemble.
Sabrina looked at him in disbelief. Did he really think he was talking to the dearly departed? A shrug. It wouldn't be the first time but then things tied to this realm were rarely gifted the opportunity. She quietly weighs what she knows of his past and tries to puzzle together the reasoning for his current state. This really wasn't her area of expertise so she would have to take his word for it. At very least, he believed what he saw and to deny his belief would be to call him a liar. She did not have the qualifications to make that accusation. When he brings attention to how she may or may not feel she becomes less transparent, the bag is tightened to her form, her eyes looking around them to see if anyone heard. She issues a whisper for him alone. "I am an Ardent, we do not feel." But she wasn't trying to convince him, these past few days it was a reminder for herself. She was still not entitled to it. Luckily he was no longer speaking to her so maybe it was for the better. His final query draws attention to her gloves, a frown befalling her features. A small swallow to drown that odd choking feeling in her throat and she straightens abruptly. "If you need anything, I am at the House of Ara by the river. It has been rebuilt. You know the place?" The place he brought his orphan, maybe he could at least remember that.
Irenic applies his usual nervous habit and smooths the top of his hair back, “feel or not feel, I don't care. He just thought you ought to know.” It seems some of the tethered spirits had noticed him talking to the boy all of which Sabrina cannot see. A short eye roll before a groan escapes scarred lips as it seems the spirits are nearly lining up to talk to him and get their messages across. He straightened up a little uncomfortably, “yeah sure. Ardent person.” He never got a name, again. “I, uh, gotta go though… um. See you around, Ardent.” With that he attempts to limp off in the opposite direction of Ara. Maybe there was a bit of blood spotting where his left foot stepped as he's been walking for too long with a wound through his calf muscle.
Sabrina would have offered to heal him, but he seemed in a hurry to wander off... in the very same direction she was headed. She huffed a little, tightening that bag again. "You know that's not my name." He might have gotten a few wide paces ahead of her so it was a bit of a scurry to pick up his pace at his heels. "What's wrong with you anyways. You are very different." She is watching his wound as he limped forth, still deciding if she should intervene or not. The last person she tried to help pushed her away, a growing trend it would seem. "And bleeding." She might have been tromping all over the boy, for all she knew he was a floater and not a creeper, for all she knew, Irenic had gone bat-shit crazy.
Irenic doesn't mind if she tags along, “the Queen told me your name a while ago… but I didn't commit to to memory.” Bloodshot mismatched eyes glance up at the sun light, “grieving and all.” Irenic probably won't turn her away from healing him, but it wasn't on his mind. “I do not know what you mean. What's so wrong about me?” He knows his memory had been shoddy, but he usually recollects someone after talking with them a bit. He stops once they've made it far enough from the tower and the spirits, but he looks down and pulls up a little on the leg of his black slacks, “oh yeah… about that.” He starts to sit himself on a less worn and grassy part of the trail, “he’s gone… for now.” He mentions about the boy while rolling the leg of his pants up and starting to unwrap the bandage which exposes a little hole on both sides of the leg big enough for a quill. He was shot in the leg. “What was so bad that you did to me, anyway?” The way he asked didn't sound angry or sad, but intrigued as it takes quite a lot of anger him.
Sabrina kneels before him, assisting with the pant leg to secure it just under his knee. "I think I didn't give you a fair chance... maybe should have had more faith." She is poking at the holes, squeezing them slightly to force an oozing of fluids so she could study the color. It looked fairly healthy, in a manner of speaking. She didn't remove the gloves though, just mucked em up in his sticky bird-juice before standing and brushing it off on her pants. "It was a long time ago." She tells him while wandering off trail to a lush growth just off path. "I suppose you wouldn't remember, I don't tend to leave lasting impressions." And it was a good thing. She returns with a handful of greens, chewing some down to a pulp before reclaiming her spot at his feet. The pulp is forced into the holes, then more chewing and more putting until the wound is packed tight with the mess. There were a few bandages and bits of clean cloth on her at all times, and so it was utilized to clean and re-wrap the wound. He might notice a dulling of pain if ever he felt it in the first place. She pulls his pant leg down and gathers her things. "Might want to stay off it for another fifteen minutes or so. Let it expand so it doesn't work itself out."
Irenic quirks a brow, “fair chance at what?” It takes him a moment, “you mean?” He got eerily quiet until she was prodding his wound which earned the sharp sucking of air through his teeth before letting out an expletive under his breath. His eyelids narrow as he scolds her, “what were you doing mixed up with a guy like me, young lady.” He sounds like he's mostly joking, but he is kind of serious. He still doesn't have a name by the way. “I'm seriously questioning your life choices, lady.” He leaned back on his tawny tattooed arms as he looked up at her, “don't take it personal. I don't remember a lot… and apparently make an effort to forget a lot of females.” I'm seriously questioning his life choices. He takes a wild guess, “did I scare you off by not chasing you and refusing to jump through hoops? Sounds like something I do.” A subtle shrug, “but if you didn't want me that was probably a smart choice in the end.” He wondered just how much she actually knew about him because he remembers being quite an unsavory guy. He digs for some gold in his pants pocket, “am I supposed to pay you for your spit, lady?”
Sabrina | "Stop calling me Lady. It's Sabrina. Why don't you know this?" She sighs, staring off to the path towards Ara. "I have been questioning them myself." It was more for herself than anything. She smiles, looking down where he sat. "No. You just didn't deny your love for another woman." She sighs again. "I tend to walk away from complications fairly easily especially since the woman in question is a good woman and she didn't need someone like me intervening." She looks at the gold in his hand. He really didn't remember. "No, I don't take payment. I never have." She looks at him, one pair of mismatched eyes to another. "You didn't deserve to be mislead. Believe it or not, I was a bad choice for you, not the other way around." She gives him a meaningful smile and gestures down the path. "If you're all set, I should be going."
Irenic gives a devious smirk while slipping the coin back in his pocket, “thanks for saving me the trouble? I'm sure being a hundred and forty-five that I couldn't handle the rejection from such a dangerous lady,” his low gruff tone dry with his usual sarcasm. “Ah, walking away is easy, but cowardly,” he still doesn't understand the complication, “but consider this a clean slate.” He looks at the trail she was gesturing towards and motions with her, “if you want to go, Sabrina, I won't be stopping you.” He then motions to his leg he's supposed to be resting for fifteen minutes before relaxing back on his elbows again which causes the soft linen short sleeved short to nestle into the valleys of his abdomen muscles. “I'll just lay here helpless to the robbers and vixen women who walk this very path.” A short dark chuckle.
Sabrina shakes her head. Some things never change. "You have never been helpless, Irenic." She is in good spirits when she takes to the path. "Be seeing you." And a short salute as she heads off. "Take care of that leg."