Levy had no idea how he’d managed to get into this place. He’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, thought he was entering a familiar Avernian Gate, but clearly he’d ended up somewhere else entirely. Cautiously, he entered the Loft, taking a cursory look around at all the unfamiliar people inside.
That sudden ‘Happy Easter’ in his ear made him turn on his heel abruptly with a little jump; he hadn’t expected quite so much exuberance in some little side realm of the Underworld, or... wherever he’d ended up -- he still wasn’t sure where. Nor was he sure just what to reply to cheerful call; it was obvious from the black kippah on his head that he certainly did not celebrate Easter. But as soon as he looked upon Hans, he forgot completely about making a reply at all because... Hans was old. Levy could tell the age of someone just with a glance, and Hans had certainly lived much longer than how he looked physically.
The raspy whisper of the dybbuk in his head confirmed his suspicions: Death hangs heavy, like a leaden crown. It was obvious too
( ... )
Hans turned, and looked over the person who addressed him. Unlike how Hans might ordinarily look- a careful, calculated gaze that took in the measure of a person - right now his look is full of happy smiles and the prospect of making a new friend. Whee! People are nifty.
"Help? Well sure! What kind of help did you have in mind? Would you like to help me find another lager? Or perhaps you would like to pull up an egg and celebrate easter? Isn't this the best holiday? The happiest of all the holidays."
And that sunny smile just kept on coming, looking somehow very strained on a face so unused to smiling even though it was bright as anything. He's also glowing a bit around the edges, as if he had a bit of backlighting going on.
Wow, that was a lot of happy energy, wasn’t it? And... Hans was glowing; Levy wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Nor did the spirit that possessed him, because all Levy heard was silence in his head in response to that very chipper reply. A very-confused stare was all that Levy offered in response for the moment, because he honestly was not used to dealing with anyone dead or undead who were in this good of a mood. It was quite unusual.
When those eggs were mentioned, Levy’s gaze shifted briefly to that basket. He knew better than to take free food that was left lying around in Underworld dominions -- when food was left, it was usually some offering to the dead, and he didn’t feel like it was his right to touch it much less eat it
( ... )
"That makes two of us!" Hans replies cheerfully, though whether he means that he isn't a Christian or that neither one of them is a normal human, he isn't clear.
He pokes his finger through the careful pile of eggshells he'd left when he was more in his own senses, spreading them around the bartop. He feels no particular urge to straighten them up - instead he wears one on his thumb like a comical hat.
"What's your name, new friend? I am Hans - Hans Varner." The accent is German, though right now infused with as much plastic cheer as a Wal-mart smiley face. Have a nice day indeed.
That very happy attitude contrasted so much with the heaviness of death that Levy felt on Hans. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Hans was being honest, but... well...
Some dark secret hides behind that guise.
I know that.
How to delicately bring that up with the issue Levy was facing at the moment; usually the ghosts he encountered were either miserable or angry, and it came easier to speak with them about their problems. Hans was either trying to obscure his history, or in denial of it, or... something. Part of Levy wondered if it was really right to pry, considering Hans was avoiding the issue. But then again, he felt it was his obligation to help people like Hans, and maybe the other man just needed a little encouragement to open up about his plight
( ... )
"Oh! Oh, oh oh," Hans said, clapping his hands together like a delighted child. "You want to talk about that."
He shakes his eggshell tipped finger at Levy. "Tsk, tsk. A man never gives away his secrets so easy. You could at least buy me a drink first!" He giggles as if this is a funny, funny thing.
He's going to hate himself in the morning but right now everything is a bright source of amusement.
"Fair enough, I guess." Levy had been rather afraid of that. Whenever he had to procure something in the Underworld, no one ever wanted money in exchange for an item; they wanted some trinket he was carrying, or a favor. But if this was the only way he could get Hans to open up and allow himself to be helped, Levy decided it would be best if he played along. The lengths he went to help the dead were quite far at times; he truly felt like it was his duty to help people like Hans whenever possible.
This place looked like a relatively normal cafe, but who could ever tell, really. He'd been exposed to so many levels of weird that he knew by now that things were not always what they seemed. Levy was surprised to find that they actually did accept money here, so he offered up enough to pay for that beer that Hans had requested a few moments before.
"Danke," Hans said, and took the beer to have a hearty swig of it. "Ah, they serve a good brew here. Good, good beer. And eggs! Beer and eggs, eggs and beer..."
More laughter, the soft glow surrounding his face lighting up a little brighter as he laughs.
"So tell me, Levy -- why are you concerned with such things? It's such a wonderful bright beautiful day - why should we waste it speaking of such nasty, ugly things as death?"
He tapped his fingers on the side of the beer. "Let's talk about something else instead. Have you ever heard the Schnappi song? We could have a sing-along!"
Levy waved off that offer for a sing-along; he needed to be fairly sloshed on kosher wine before that was ever going to happen.
He lowered his voice a little before speaking again; he didn’t want anyone else to overhear and think he was a crazy person. It was risk enough that Hans might think that. “Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but there are people like me who have a duty to help people like you.” Becoming spirit-possessed had been a huge struggle at first; just contacting the dead was against the Mitzvot. Over time he’d had to reconcile what he felt was his obligation to what was written in the Torah, and that certainly hadn’t been an easy journey.
Ghosts seemed to just know that Levy could help them; they gravitated toward him when he was around. Vampires were different; most of them told him to get lost. But Hans was something different entirely, and Levy couldn’t put his finger on just what that was because he’d never encountered it before. “I can't make you tell me, but I'm not going to be able to help you unless I
( ... )
"Guess!" Hans said, giving him an impish smile. "Here, here-- I'll make it easy for you-- it will be multiple choice, ja?"
He holds up his fingers (eggshell still on his thumb) to tick them off as choices.
"Choice one- more plastic surgery than Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers combined!" He wiggled his pinkie finger.
"Choice two-- good genes. Designer jeans, perhaps? Do I look good for my age, is that what you're telling me? You can lie to me if you like-- a little flattery is good for the ego
( ... )
Levy listened, resting his elbows against the bar countertop. Choices one and two were impossible; he knew Hans was actually older than he looked. Choice three seemed... silly, so Levy wasn’t as quick to believe that. And five was right out.
“Four,” Levy replied without hesitation, reaching up to remove that bit of eggshell from Hans’ thumb before setting it back on the bar. He commonly encountered ghosts who felt too ashamed to leave this realm because of wrongdoings they committed, who clung to this world in fear of facing a higher power after what they’d done. But Hans wasn’t a ghost, was he? Hans' body refused to physically age much like a vampire’s would, but Levy could tell that he wasn’t undead. It was strange.
“Lots of people in your position say that,” he continued. “But you have to know that it’s you that’s making yourself feel like this. Look, you don’t have to tell me what you did -- but you have to forgive yourself.” Levy firmly believed that G-d did not cast anyone away from him, and he certainly didn’t believe in any
( ... )
That sudden ‘Happy Easter’ in his ear made him turn on his heel abruptly with a little jump; he hadn’t expected quite so much exuberance in some little side realm of the Underworld, or... wherever he’d ended up -- he still wasn’t sure where. Nor was he sure just what to reply to cheerful call; it was obvious from the black kippah on his head that he certainly did not celebrate Easter. But as soon as he looked upon Hans, he forgot completely about making a reply at all because... Hans was old. Levy could tell the age of someone just with a glance, and Hans had certainly lived much longer than how he looked physically.
The raspy whisper of the dybbuk in his head confirmed his suspicions: Death hangs heavy, like a leaden crown. It was obvious too ( ... )
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"Help? Well sure! What kind of help did you have in mind? Would you like to help me find another lager? Or perhaps you would like to pull up an egg and celebrate easter? Isn't this the best holiday? The happiest of all the holidays."
And that sunny smile just kept on coming, looking somehow very strained on a face so unused to smiling even though it was bright as anything. He's also glowing a bit around the edges, as if he had a bit of backlighting going on.
Reply
When those eggs were mentioned, Levy’s gaze shifted briefly to that basket. He knew better than to take free food that was left lying around in Underworld dominions -- when food was left, it was usually some offering to the dead, and he didn’t feel like it was his right to touch it much less eat it ( ... )
Reply
He pokes his finger through the careful pile of eggshells he'd left when he was more in his own senses, spreading them around the bartop. He feels no particular urge to straighten them up - instead he wears one on his thumb like a comical hat.
"What's your name, new friend? I am Hans - Hans Varner." The accent is German, though right now infused with as much plastic cheer as a Wal-mart smiley face. Have a nice day indeed.
Reply
Some dark secret hides behind that guise.
I know that.
How to delicately bring that up with the issue Levy was facing at the moment; usually the ghosts he encountered were either miserable or angry, and it came easier to speak with them about their problems. Hans was either trying to obscure his history, or in denial of it, or... something. Part of Levy wondered if it was really right to pry, considering Hans was avoiding the issue. But then again, he felt it was his obligation to help people like Hans, and maybe the other man just needed a little encouragement to open up about his plight ( ... )
Reply
He shakes his eggshell tipped finger at Levy. "Tsk, tsk. A man never gives away his secrets so easy. You could at least buy me a drink first!" He giggles as if this is a funny, funny thing.
He's going to hate himself in the morning but right now everything is a bright source of amusement.
Reply
This place looked like a relatively normal cafe, but who could ever tell, really. He'd been exposed to so many levels of weird that he knew by now that things were not always what they seemed. Levy was surprised to find that they actually did accept money here, so he offered up enough to pay for that beer that Hans had requested a few moments before.
Reply
More laughter, the soft glow surrounding his face lighting up a little brighter as he laughs.
"So tell me, Levy -- why are you concerned with such things? It's such a wonderful bright beautiful day - why should we waste it speaking of such nasty, ugly things as death?"
He tapped his fingers on the side of the beer. "Let's talk about something else instead. Have you ever heard the Schnappi song? We could have a sing-along!"
Reply
He lowered his voice a little before speaking again; he didn’t want anyone else to overhear and think he was a crazy person. It was risk enough that Hans might think that. “Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but there are people like me who have a duty to help people like you.” Becoming spirit-possessed had been a huge struggle at first; just contacting the dead was against the Mitzvot. Over time he’d had to reconcile what he felt was his obligation to what was written in the Torah, and that certainly hadn’t been an easy journey.
Ghosts seemed to just know that Levy could help them; they gravitated toward him when he was around. Vampires were different; most of them told him to get lost. But Hans was something different entirely, and Levy couldn’t put his finger on just what that was because he’d never encountered it before. “I can't make you tell me, but I'm not going to be able to help you unless I ( ... )
Reply
He holds up his fingers (eggshell still on his thumb) to tick them off as choices.
"Choice one- more plastic surgery than Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers combined!" He wiggled his pinkie finger.
"Choice two-- good genes. Designer jeans, perhaps? Do I look good for my age, is that what you're telling me? You can lie to me if you like-- a little flattery is good for the ego ( ... )
Reply
“Four,” Levy replied without hesitation, reaching up to remove that bit of eggshell from Hans’ thumb before setting it back on the bar. He commonly encountered ghosts who felt too ashamed to leave this realm because of wrongdoings they committed, who clung to this world in fear of facing a higher power after what they’d done. But Hans wasn’t a ghost, was he? Hans' body refused to physically age much like a vampire’s would, but Levy could tell that he wasn’t undead. It was strange.
“Lots of people in your position say that,” he continued. “But you have to know that it’s you that’s making yourself feel like this. Look, you don’t have to tell me what you did -- but you have to forgive yourself.” Levy firmly believed that G-d did not cast anyone away from him, and he certainly didn’t believe in any ( ... )
Reply
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