RP:Poor Unfortunate Souls

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Summary: On the trip to Rynvale to join the rest of the Warrior's Guild, Amarrah makes herself known for the final time before the next journey to the Shadow Plane.

Rolling Waves, Somewhere between Cenril and Rynvale

When the call had been made to head out to Rynvale, the things that had been sent from Frostmaw (their clothing and such) had been packed up and sent on to Cenril to the ship Khitti and Brand were to disembark from, the Tikifhlees included, just in case if they were needed for faster travel on the island. The two (three?) would, of course, make it to Cenril as well. They’d even make it onto the boat. Khitti’d brought along that long-brimmed hat of hers, her armor traded for her favorite black dress to match the hat. It’d been quite awhile since she’d been on a ship, and that was certainly no picnic, so this whole thing felt bittersweet. This was no vacation, even if the trip there might’ve felt like one; they were sailing headlong into danger as usual, and now she longed for a break from it all, despite the plans she’d made for the future. With one hand on her hat to keep it from flying away, she’d linger on the deck after making sure their belongings had been stored in their room properly, staring off into the mysterious fathoms below. ‘Both hands on the rails, peach’ echoed in her mind as she gazed into the ocean, hoping to see a mermaid, a smirk making itself known on the redhead’s features. Damn your rails, Brand.

Brand had hardly stopped griping since the moment they’d laid eyes on the ship. It could hardly be called a ship, even; it was more of a ferry, transporting passengers and cargo from Cenril to Rynvale and back over and over again, never braving the open ocean. And whoever owned it had clearly decided to favor form over function, all for the sake of drawing in passengers with its shiny, keeping them away from their plainer-looking competitors. But Brand couldn’t get over just how -inefficient- everything was. All these frills along the hull created drag, slowing them down. The design of the oars, while pretty, was downright impractical. And what, exactly, was the purpose of replacing the bowsprit with those ugly metal rails? They were allowing landlubber passengers to stand right at the end of the bow -- where the slightest turbulence might knock them overboard -- so they might pretend they were flying. Nay, not just allowing, but charging them ten gold a pop for the privilege, and thirty more if they wanted image of the occasion recorded by the ship’s ostensibly artistic conjurer. It was abhorrent, and Brand couldn’t help but tell Khitti as much, repeatedly and with increasing agitation the longer the line grew for this event. “Doesn’t make a lick of frakkin’ sense. They could get on a wyvern and -actually fly-, but they’d rather get charged three times the ticket cost to pretend to do it here?”

Khitti rolled her eyes at Brand, as she so often did. If he kept going, they’d probably roll right out of her damned head and ‘plop’ right into the sea. “Brand. Shut up.” Well, whatever was left of the trip was ruined by his constant complaining--what hadn’t been ruined by the thought of going to find more bugs and the remembrance of the boat-trip -to- Hollow from Dhavislaav anyway. “It’s a damned tourist attraction and not just a ride to zhe island. Of course, zhey’re gonna charge an arm and a leg for it. You could’ve stayed in Vailkrin or Cenril, you know, or even gone home. I vould’ve been perfectly fine vithout you.” She’d not forgotten about how awkward things had gotten at Larewen’s house, and was choosing to be mildly bitter about it instead of sad. No point in being sad if there’s no feelings to be had there; she knew that was a risk when they made that strange agreement to be more than friends, but not really be an actual couple--whatever the hell that meant “And vhile ve’re on zhe subject, after ve’re done in zhe Shadowfell and vith all of zhis Rynvale business, remind me to never set foot on a ship vith you again.”

“Not my fault they’re doin’ it all wrong,” huffed Brand, folding his arms. He leaned with his back to the rail, surveying the fancily-dressed crew and the even fancier passengers. “Tourist attraction, you say? Didn’t even know there were ships like this. Would’ve picked us another one, if I had. Gorram ship wouldn’t last a day out on -real- ocean.” This was approximately the fifth time he’d said that since they’d boarded.

Yep, there was another eyeroll. “Does it seriously matter as long as ve get zhere in one piece? For gods’ sake, Brand, let it go.” Khitti waved a hand dismissively at him, her irritation rather obvious now. Pushing off the rail she was leaning over she heads to the port side, to eye the sea there. “I’m not ever gonna see a damned mermaid, “ she muttered to herself. Further on the ship went, ‘til they reached the halfway point. Khitti’d gotten bored of looking for mermaids at some point along the journey and settled herself onto the deck, her back up against the railing. A ghost ship would soon lumber into view behind her, the souls of the dead sailors that perished with it letting out their mournful wails, crying out to go home. It didn’t take long for Khitti to sense them, and she turned about, peeking over the rails to stare at them. And then suddenly, the spirits began to stare back, fixing their sights on the necromancer, and even making their way towards her. “...Brand? Um.” So transfixed by the incoming ghosts was she, that she didn’t even noticed Amarrah sitting right next to her on the rail, the butterfly’s feelers twitching away as if nothing was wrong, as if she should’ve always been there.

For the first time this whole trip, Brand was actually halfway impressed by one of these so-called tourist attractions. “You didn’t tell me they’ve got a boatside show, peach. Maybe that conjurer out by the bow is good for somethin’ after all.” He too was squinting out at these alleged spirits, trying to work out how the illusionist had managed such a feat. Those ghosts looked… well, ‘life-like’ was probably the wrong phrase, unless he was trying for a pun. Authentic, then. And maybe a bit more spooky than would be appropriate for a bunch of civilian types. Slowly, the gears in Brand’s head clicked into place. “Oh. That’s not a show…” And he was gone, running for their cargo below decks to fetch gods-know-what. He hadn’t even seen Amarrah, hadn’t even registered the way Khitti stood rooted. She’d be fine for the few seconds it’d take him to find what he was looking for. That damned butterfly hadn’t tried anything in ages, anyhow; just enough time for him to start letting his guard down.

Khitti’s brows furrowed as she heard Brand run elsewhere, “Hey! Vhere zhe hell--oh.” Green eyes settled themselves on the butterfly, then narrowed at Amarrah. Suddenly everything made sense--except wherever the hell it was Brand ran off to, that is. “You. Vhat zhe hell do you vant, you awful bitch?” The vampiress stood up, Amarrah flitting about Khitti before hovering just in front of her face. Amarrah said nothing, for now, content on staring at the redhead as the undead continued their path towards the ship, soon ascending up the side as if they were still alive. “You always have so much to say vhen you’re controlling me, so frakking say something!” The other patrons of the ship, if they were not be frightened by what they too thought was just a show via an illusionist, would certainly be running for cover now. Shadow-flames erupted in both of Khitti’s palms as she shouted at the butterfly, the vampiress in quite the ‘kill first, ask questions later’ sort of mood now.

He’d watched her pack it. He knew it had to be around here somewhere, dammit. So where the hell was it? And why had Khitti packed so gorram much? It wasn’t like they were moving here, for frak’s sake. Back in their cabin, Brand was throwing Khitti’s luggage about, searching wildly for the one thing he knew was effective against ghosts: a violin. -The- violin. The violin that had once belonged to Khitti’s sister, Lydia, who was now a ghost herself. If these ghosts were hostile, Khitti would know how to bring them to heel -- but Brand had not a clue if she could do it without that blasted violin. The rest of the people on this frakkin’ boat sure wouldn’t be able to do anything. Useless, the whole lot of ‘em -- he could tell by the way they dressed, the way they carried themselves, the way they had not a care in the world but for who was dating whom and oh, but haven’t you read the latest E.L. Landon book? It’s what everyone’s buzzing about, don’t you know, and -- ah! There it was, the violin. Snatching it and its bow from its case, Brand dashed back out of the room and took the stairs up to the deck two at a time, hoping he’d emerge to anything other than complete chaos. Though, maybe a few of those useless civilians had it coming -- just a little.

Just as Brand would get back upstairs, he’d hear that familiar voice ring about in his head. [Oh good, Firebug’s finally here. Now we’re one big happy family again.] He’d find Khitti positively shaking with rage, those purple fires lit, green eyes staring daggers into Amarrah. [So, did you like the show, blondie? I could let them get real close-like so you inspect them. Maybe I’ll even let them possess you for a bit and toss you overboard. Wouldn’t that be precious? Letting your little ‘peach’ watch you die? Goodness, I couldn’t do that, though I’d really like to. Father’s expecting both of you soon. Can’t disappoint him, can I?] The ghosts still board the boat regardless, running about terrorizing and haunting people. Khitti wished to hell that Amarrah had a body right about now as she sent a warning ball of fire directly underneath the butterfly, “You touch him and I swear to--” [Swear to who? No one’s listening to anything you have to say, dearie. No one ever does. Not him, not me, not any of those ‘gods’ that’s supposed to keep watch here. You’re all by yourself. They’re all out to get you.] There’s a moment of thought, the gears turning in the vampiress’ head as Amarrah goes on and on--and it’s a wonder that she never thought of it before--for no sooner had the shadow creature zipped her non-existent lips for the moment, did Khitti conjure up another ball of shadow-flame and sear her own left arm with it, right where Amarrah had been planted so long ago. Oh, there was tears to be sure, as that biting pain scorched her arm and her mind. But it was worth it, every bit, as it not only hurt Khitti, but Amarrah as well, the butterfly letting out terrible howls of pain that echoed in their minds and out the mouths of the ghosts Amarrah controlled, only frightening the rest of the passengers further.

Brand wished he had some aspect of Dominic’s approximately never, but damn if that healing water wouldn’t have come in handy about now. Something to worry about later. For now, regardless of if they were useless or not, Brand had tourists to rescue and an Amarrah to put back to rest. He raced through the fray, dodging ghosts and guests alike, tossing the occasional dagger of ice out where he had a clean shot. Not that it was likely to do anything to a ghost -- but heck, maybe it would. He didn’t know. He was no gorram necromancer, nor had he even known much of anything of ghosts and spirits prior to Lithrydel. Yet another oddity of the place to file away and perhaps discuss with Lionel later. Amarrah got no discussion either; why waste his energy? There was no reasoning with her. He only had one word to spare for anyone, and it sure as hell wasn’t for that damned butterfly. “Play.” He offered up the violin to Khitti.

Khitti almost didn’t hear Brand as he begged her to play and the violin was handed over. The only thing that mattered right then and there was that Amarrah was feeling pain, that she was suffering. The thing that -did- stop her, however, was that the pain of that fire was getting to be too much for her--anger and spite could only hold back so much. With a growl, the flames are snuffed out and the instrument snatched up. She played as instructed, and despite the rage that flowed through her music, it...did absolutely nothing. [Oh, honey. Did you really think that was gonna work? You know that’s -my- magic you’re trying to control them with. Just ‘cause you’ve got yourself some fancy new rock to cling to doesn’t mean that magic’s yours. It never has been and it never will be.] As if the violin’s bow were a sword, she swung and slashed at the butterfly, but it only went right through. [Don’tcha want to know why I’m here? I could be killing you lot, you know, and I’m not. Don’t you think that’s weird?]

“Not really interested, if I’m bein’ honest,” growled Brand, whisking Khitti off of her feet and into his arms. But Brand was far from a knight, Khitti was hardly a damsel, and this was no fairy tale. There was no romantic look in Brand’s eyes and no kiss to magically right the world’s wrongs. There was only a simple human, glaring at that spectral butterfly and shooting lightning up her host’s spine. He’d not even given her a warning -- though, to be fair, that would have warned Amarrah, too.

Khitti’s own screams soon filled the air once Brand swept her off her feet in the literal sense and sent that shocking magic up her back. And yet, Amarrah didn’t budge. She just continued to float there, her wings flapping every so often like a real butterfly, and Brand was left with an unconscious redhead in his arms. [Oh my. I’m sure this is going to put a damper on your relationship. Probably no wedding bells anytime soon, eh Firebug? What a shame. Here and I thought you two psychos went so well together. Especially when you two fight. You really -burn- her up sometimes. One can only hope that it’ll happen with real fire one day.] Amarrah was quite beside herself with excitement at the thought. [Come on, you. I’ve got a big surprise for both of you so you best be getting on with waking her up. Probably best to not try that whole ‘true love’s kiss’ thing she’s always reading about--doesn’t work when the love is one-sided.]

Brand turned first back to the chaos, an idea blooming within the fortress of his mind. Amarrah was nothing if not miserable, wasn’t she? The guests on this ship certainly looked to be sharing in that at the moment, but… it didn’t actually appear the ghosts were hurting anyone physically. Maybe they weren’t able to do anything more than terrorize people out of their wits. And mental wounds, they’d get over fast enough. Decision made, then: they didn’t need to be saved. Misery simply needed to be removed from its company. || Brand appeared to be considering Amarrah’s request, though he moved with no great haste. Carefully, he laid Khitti down along the nearest railside bench, and just under it he stowed her violin. It would be out of the way there, he hoped, not easily lost or trampled underfoot. That done, he rose to his feet again and locked eyes onto Amarrah. Seven hells, was she -still- yammering on?! “Not interested,” he repeated, tone dispassionate, and tossed the unconscious Khitti overboard. He vaulted over the rails just after her, and down and away from the ships they’d go, too far for Amarrah to wield her influence over the spirits. That was the plan, anyway. He wagered he could hold a magicked bubble of air over his mouth and nose for long enough to wait Amarrah out, and it wasn’t like Khitti needed to breathe. There were a few advantages to her being a vampire, after all.

Down into the ocean tumbled the Khat, still quite unconscious for the moment. In that head of hers though, something felt off, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Up top, Amarrah flickered out of view not long after Brand had dove into the water after the redhead, her spirits disappearing as well, leaving the boat, its crew, and passengers in shambles and forced to pick up the pieces while their heroes sank further into the sea. [Wake up, little kitty. I think your “lover” is trying to kill you. He shocked you. I saw it. Might’ve felt it too if I hadn’t blocked off that part of your mind. Poor thing, he thinks he can outsmart me. Here, let me wake you up for him.] Shadows would begin to gather around Khitti, giving the water around her a sort of inky look, as if a octopus had just been through there, enveloping the redhead until it looked like she’d be swallowed whole by the blackness. And then came the fire. Despite the water, the shadows exploded into those ever familiar purple flames and awake Khitti did, much like she’d fallen unconscious: screaming. The magic was clearly controlled, as not a bit of it even touched Brand. As if that wasn’t enough, bits of shadow-ice collected in various spots around her, the shards pointed edges directed at Khitti and then sent flying towards her, piercing the bare flesh that was left wide open thanks to her dress, and even slicing through her dress as well. || [Oh good. You’re awake. Now look here, you two.] The butterfly appeared again, looking out of place in the ocean. [Father’s got a little proposition for you two. Well, mostly just Red, here.] The flames and ice would soon fade away, leaving Khitti no less angry than she had been before, but now very much awake. [He can give you what you want when you bring me back--unharmed, mind you! So no more of that burning me nonsense--...but...you need to give him that pretty little stone you’ve got yourself there. And that’s not all...] Amarrah giggled a bit, the harsh sound echoing about in their minds, [You’ve got to help him bring me back from the dead.] A spectral looking scroll, glowing a bright purple, appeared out of nowhere in front of the pair, unrolling to reveal a very detailed contract. Skimming it, one could gather that Amarrah’s father, who is noted as being called ‘Facilier’ has a cure for Khitti’s vampirism. [You see? You’ve got friends on the other side.]

Brand would have torn the wings off that damned butterfly ages ago, if he’d been able. More than anything, it was his powerlessness against her that was infuriating. The shadow being seemed to grow stronger every time she made a new appearance, and she’d not exactly been a pushover even the first time she’d gone on a murdering spree. Sure, he could mark getting Khitti off the ship as some small victory; Amarrah was here with them, which probably -- hopefully -- meant she wasn’t still causing havoc up above. But that was just it: the margins of these victories were getting smaller and smaller. Facing down some ominous contract and seething with impotent rage, Brand wasn’t even sure there was any margin here at all. [We don’t need your gorram help,] he insisted, [nor the help of anyone who’d help -you-. Would sooner deal with Emeritus.]” And that was saying something.

Khitti stared hard at the butterfly as she prattled on, her face shifting from that rage to something a bit more confused, something uncertain. [What about Lydia…?] If Amarrah had a body right about now, a most cheshire-like grin would appear; the silence that lingered for moments after Khitti’s inquiry almost implied such a thing. It was clear that Khitti was definitely considering things. [If you’ll look here--] The section speaking about Khitti’s sister became bolded, glowing a bit brighter to stand out amongst the rest, [--you’ll see that she’s been included in my father’s side of the deal. She’s perfectly fine and hasn’t been harmed--as far as anyone can truly harm a spirit, anyway. I could...even let you see her, if that’d further sweeten the deal for you.] Bleeding still from the ice, and with parts of her pale skin a bit charred thanks to Amarrah’s fire, Khitti turned to Brand, one hand pushing her long hair from floating in front of her face before it and its twin came to rest on the Catalian’s shoulders, the redhead trying to get him to focus on her for a moment, [Brand. Brand, look at me...do you remember what you told me in Vailkrin? When we were talking?] Before I kissed you. Before I made things weird. Before I ruined everything again.

Brand considered saying no. No, he didn’t remember, or no, this wasn’t what he’d meant, or no, and hadn’t she read all the stories of deals with demons and shadow creatures gone awry? But he’d made the mistake of meeting her eyes, and in them found a glimmering not due to light nor water. Seven frakkin’ hells. There’d been a time he’d bested entire enemy squads on his lonesome, and here he was unable to hold his ground against one single woman. Singular. [...It’s your decision, peach.] He sighed, and tiny pockets of breath cascaded up from the one around his mouth, clamoring to meet the sky. [S’got more to do with you than it does me.] But he didn’t approve. That much was clear.

Khitti knew it was a bad idea. Absolutely knew it. It was probably a trap of some sort and she’d hear about it later from the blonde if either of them made it out of the Shadow Plane alive for a second time. Her left hand -almost- touched his face, almost caressed that stubbled cheek of his, and she almost even offered him the faintest of smiles--but then she remembered what’d happened after he’d said those things in Vailkrin, how she kissed him and he went cold again towards her feelings. Well, so too did she in return. There was no show of affection whatsoever, a look of determination in her eye and lips pursed in thought plastered on her features instead. No sooner had those words gotten over to her mind was she spinning away from him and closing the gap between her and Amarrah. [Fine. But no more attacking people. Especially him--] Khitti pointed at Brand briefly [--and Lionel, and the guild. No more. Ever. Or you won’t even make it home to your father. Hildegarde won’t even get the damned chance to kill me because I’ll do it my own damned self.] The contract magically altered itself to fit the new terms and conditions. [Alright, Red. You’ve got a deal.] Amarrah conjured up a quill from the shadows, the nib on the end glowing that same purple. Without hesitation, Khitti snatched up the pen and signed the scroll, Amarrah simultaneously adding just as the redhead was about finished, [Oh, one more thing. You should always read the fine print, Red. This is -probably- going to hurt. A lot.] || Amarrah blinked out of existence and soon the scar on Khitti’s forearm tore itself open, more blood spilled as that once closed font of magic ripped apart, letting loose Amarrah’s powers. The tendrils Khitti once commanded make themselves known, spiralling out of the wound and entwining themselves like vines around her arm. In and out of her skin they weaved like daggers on strings, as Khitti had done to foes in the past with them, making their way up to her throat. There they dug in, there they wrapped around her neck, on the inside and the outside, threatening to snap her neck. All the while, Khitti screamed--though it came out as naught but bubbles--and struggled, trying to pull the tendrils out, but to no avail. [See...you never did say anything about not hurting -you- though, didja? If you -don’t- bring me back, well...I guess we both die. Or maybe, just maybe...only you die. I guess we’ll find out if you fail, won’t we?] The magic died away, or at least it did on the surface. The tendrils sank into her skin like ink, leaving it looking like nothing more than a strange tattoo as the scar healed up once again as well.

Was she gone yet? Brand had -really- had enough of ol’ Lemoncakes for today. For a lifetime. For seven lifetimes. Up Brand swam once the tendrils had faded, pulling Khitti up with him if necessary. He said nothing, even when they reached the surface. There was nothing to be said. || The ship hadn’t gotten far; finding it again had been simple. Climbing back up the side of it, on the other hand, that was a mite more difficult. The boat’s paint coat and polish made everything even more slippery than it would have otherwise been. Worse still, when Brand successfully made it over the edge it was directly into a group of gaudily dressed women, fanning themselves and recovering from their recent haunting. The nearest shrieked and fainted at his arrival; Brand simply glowered at the lot of them and marched for their cabin belowdecks, picking up the violin along the way.

Khitti could only stare at her arm as Brand dragged her through the water back to the boat. Only when they reached the aforementioned ship did she realized he’d brought her that far. She’d tear her other arm out of his grasp and climb up the side of the boat after him, hissing disdainfully at the women along the way, leaving the others who’d not fainted just yet to join their friend in unconsciousness. Khitti’d not trudge along quite as quickly as Brand, inspecting that ‘tattoo’ along the way until she also made it to their cabin. She had nothing to say either at this point, but she was sure as hell expecting the Catalian to blow up at her any time now.

Drip. Drip, drip. Brand was leaving a trail of water behind him, down the stairs and through the narrow corridors with the tacky carpeting. He’d not bothered wringing his clothing out, instead allowing it to weigh on him, clinging and cold. A bit of seaweed had hitched a ride on his vest -- how had that gotten there? They’d not even gone particularly deep -- and he flicked it away. It flew to the pinstripe wall and stuck there, a fleck of green against a backdrop of tan and cream. A moment’s fumbling with the room key and Brand was inside their room again, and -- oh. Right. He’d really made quite the mess in here, hadn’t he? Brand set the violin down on the bed and retrieved the first fresh clothes of his that he laid eyes on before making a beeline for the washroom and locking the door behind him. He was already within and in the process of peeling off his shirt by the time he heard Khitti catching up. He could almost -feel- her through the doors and walls between them, braced for explosion, but it would not come. Not from him, anyway.

A water trail of her own was left behind Khitti as she made her way into the room, tired eyes taking in the wreckage he’d left earlier. Whatever clothes of hers that was on the bed was tossed onto the floor for now and the violin set aside elsewhere. She hesitated before doing anything else, then pivoted towards the washroom, then back to the bed, then back to where Brand was. The steps needed to get to the door would be taken, and then more hesitation as she lifted her hand to knock. But...there’d be no knock at all, for she thought better of it, and returned to what she’d been doing before. As she undressed, the weight of her waterlogged dress and boots were lifted, but sadly, not that of the weight of everything else--in fact, it only worsened. The more she thought about it, the less she thought about everything else. Khitti couldn’t focus enough to even figure out what to wear, the sound of clothes being thrown frustratedly around the room loud enough to be heard by the blonde in the next room. Instead, she opted for one of Dominic’s shirts--for she’d even packed some of his clothes just in case--put it on and crawled into the bed, hiding away under the covers. There were tears now to be sure, but she kept quiet about it, as much as she could anyway; she didn’t want to be anymore of the burden that she was sure Brand thought of her as right now, knowing that it made him uncomfortable when she cried.

Brand wasn’t sure what to say. It was an impossible situation; he could see that more clearly, now that the adrenaline was beginning to subside. It wasn’t as if Amarrah would have likely given up if Khitti had simply refused. She’d shown up and caused chaos until she’d gotten what she wanted. The bitch may as well have taken control of Khitti and forced her signature on that ‘contract’ of hers, for all the choice she’d really given. “She’s gettin’ stronger.” He called loud enough for Khitti to hear. “We don’t finish this soon, it’s not gonna matter -what- you signed or if either of you even intended to hold to it.”

Khitti frowned as she stared at the ship's wall, sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes. “I know…” There's a pause for a bit before she asks, “Do you zhink it vas a bad idea…? Even if I hadn't...and ve couldn't get rid of her...Hildegarde’s gonna…” She didn't say it; she didn't need to, of course, because Brand already knew. “I just…” Her own adrenaline had worn off too, and now that she was thinking clearly, she was definitely starting to regret. She should've listened to him, thought things through better. Khitti hadn't had any other choice though...did she? Dwelling on it, as she did with most things, she realized something--there’d been no showing of Lydia. As if she couldn’t possibly feel any worse, or stupid, about this whole situation. Never sign contracts without the other party doing what they said they would first, you know. But then...just then...when everything seemed absolutely awful and wretched and all of the other adjectives you could think, there’s a disturbance in the Force. For Brand, he’d hear nothing on the other side on the door. No sniffling, no other regrets or concerns voiced. Perhaps she got up and left? Well, when he’d finally come out of the other room, he’d find himself face to face (or face to back, rather) with the spectral form of Lydia. Unlike Dominic and Brand, Khitti’d not even laid eyes on Lydia since those days oh so long ago in Dhavislaav--now she sat there in the bed, wide-eyed, almost as if she, well, saw a ghost.

Sudden silence or sudden noise meant trouble of one sort or another. Lessons from the Daggers, #31. Brand emerged from the bathroom at the abrupt sound of nothing, still somewhat damp and now shirtless, the towel he’d been using to mop water out of his hair wrapped around his neck. And, well, it was not as bad as he’d feared. Just a ghost, no big deal. -The- ghost, really -- the only one worth mentioning. “Sup, Lydia,” he said to her back. “Or, Amarrah-assisted projection of Lydia. Whatever the case may be.”

“Well, you’ve certainly not changed one bit, “ was said to Brand, the ghost not even bothering to turn around despite the fact that her words were directed at him. “Still as skeptical as ever.” There was even a bit of ghostly eyeball rolling too. Lydia’s focus was mainly on that of her sister, though, as Khitti was ever so entranced by her mirror image standing in front of her. “He’s right though, funny enough. I’m not really here. That little butterfly of yours is getting help from those ‘friends on the other side’ she was talking about.” Khitti’d finally get out of bed, take the necessary steps over towards Lydia, and would try to touch her, though to no avail as her hand would go right through Lydia. Khitti feigned some sort of cool, unaffected look towards this, but, Brand would likely know better.

“So, zhen, vhat’s zhe point of you being here, if you’re not really here?” Khitti turned away from both ghost and human, busying herself with finally putting away her belongings. “Because, despite the fact that Amarrah is probably one of the worst beings in existence now, both her and her father are bound by that contract that you so quickly signed, “ Lydia’s tone grew quite stern and just a bit angry then as she continued, “Khatja Elysse von Schreier, bist du verrückt?! Wenn wir nicht schon tot wären, würde ich dich töten!” It sounded a hell of a lot like Lydia was berating Khitti in their native tongue; somehow, Khitti still managed that aloof expression, as if she were still quite used to this, despite the sixteen years since the last time she was yelled at by her slightly younger twin. Well, to be fair, she was used to it, as Brand had been the one to fill that void for the past year.

Even after over a year spent hanging around Khitti, Brand hadn’t had much opportunity to pick up the language of Dhavislaav. (It wasn’t like she had anyone to speak it to who’d understand.) Still, he’d definitely picked up the word for ‘crazy’, and that tone was universal. “Yeah, she’s a real nutter, isn’t she?” Brand didn’t have to feign his calm; seeing Lydia was hardly cause for excitement after the shiz Amarrah had just pulled. “Runs in the family, from what all I’ve seen.” And with that, he retreated back into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind him. If he was going to have to deal with -both- of them, he was gonna do it with his gorram shirt on at least.

As one redhead finally shut up, the other sort-of-living one glared at Brand as he wandered back into the other room. Do you feel that Brand? That’s daggers in your back. A lot of them. They’re from her eyeballs. Let her hatred flow through you, except through lots of bleeding and death. Okay, but don’t actually die. I guess. Anyway. Khitti slammed the boxes closed and she finally turned around to face Lydia again, “Are you done? And, I zhank you very much to not speak to me in zhat language. If you really -have- been here zhis entire time, I’m certain zhat you’ll remember zhat I vas banished! As in, no longer part of zhat country, no matter how much I frakking talk about it.” Now, it was Khitti’s turn to do the yelling, it seemed. “And as for -crazy-, how about zhe next time you vant to help, how about you stay zhe hell out of our heads?!” She was, of course, referring to those dreams Lydia helped mold while they were either asleep or blackout drunk. “You ruined -everything-. Again. Because you can’t quit meddling even after you’re over a decade dead.” -What- Lydia ruined wasn’t elaborated on, and a tense silence was left instead in its place.

“Look...I’m not here forever…” Lydia would start after what seemed like ages, “And, I think it’s even time for me to go soon.” The expression on Khitti’s face would soon shift to something a bit more desperate, green eyes searching about as if this stupid room on the ship had answers for her. “I don’t want you to come here. In fact, you and I both know it’s a bad idea. There’s...things...here in the Sanctuary, things that I don’t know if you’re ready for yet. But…” Lydia stepped to the side, or did that weird sort of ghostly gliding rather, so that she’d be out of the way when Brand re-emerged from the washroom, “...I want you to be careful. Use your head. And, actually listen to him for once. He might be a jerk, but you know he means well. He -did- go through all that trouble of saving you from that dragon...”

Brand poked his head out of the bathroom first, then the rest of his body, now fully clothed, followed. “Ghostfruit has a point. Dunno about ‘means well,’ but near enough.” ...Really, Brand? ‘Ghostfruit’ is the best nickname you can come up with? Okay then. “Look, whatever Lemoncakes has got cooked, it’s surely a trap in one sense or another. Knowin’ that goin’ in has some advantages, at least.” He paused, collecting his thoughts, plugging variables into the tactics algorithms in his brain. “Too many unknowns,” he declared after a time. “We’ll take an extra week or perhaps a few -- time we can spare now if she’s truly formed a truce. Gather people to our side, whoever’s willing to make the trip. Pore through that book Emeritus gave you. Establish contingency plans. Whatever comes to pass when we get there, we’ll have done our best to be prepared for it all by the time we get there.”

Lydia actually managed a smile for Brand, albeit a sad one, but a smile nevertheless. “That’s not quite what I mean, but I’ve no time to explain. I have faith that you’ll do everything in your power to help her get here safely.” And then, Lydia was gone; clearly, that would have to suffice as a goodbye for now. Khitti was left to stare at the space that her sister’s ghost had occupied only moments ago, a sinking feeling now wallowing around in her gut. Things felt bittersweet; this was not how she’d planned on seeing her sister again for the first time in years--then again, it wasn’t really something that she thought was ever going to happen until Amarrah mentioned it months ago. The redhead didn’t say anything at all, no snark, no nothing. Instead, she shifted her line of sight to Brand for a moment, then went right back to deal with all of those boxes she’d brought with them, stacking them as neatly as they had been before. Why -did- she bring nearly all of their stuff with them?

“Everyone’s got so much faith,” Brand muttered, doing his part to pick up the mess he’d left while searching for that violin of Khitti’s. “In me, or in their gorram prophecies, in their gods or fate…” Was he speaking solely to himself, or was this something he expected Khitti to have some kind of an answer for? He didn’t make it clear either way, but thereafter fell into a brooding silence.