Walking with the Ghost Part 2
Title: Walking with the Ghost Part 2: Born on the Bayou
Universe: World of Darkness, Werewolf: the Apocalypse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A chance encounter out in the swamp may be the key to the sept's salvation.
Eset wasn't sure how to describe the smell of the swamp. Rotting vegetation, stagnant water, living creatures working hard to make other living things dead. It was alive and moving and she was never going to get the damn mud off her jeans. And these were her last pair.
She knew she should be glad to see such vital, wild places still in the world, but it didn't mean she wanted her clothes to smell like rotten veggies.
But she didn't dare travel along the main thoroughfares, not with those damn leeches still following her. If they wanted to catch her, they would have to do it on the ground of her choosing. Lets see how tough you are outside the city, she thought murderously.
She almost didn't spot the ghost lurking amongst the weeds. It was a dark eyed girl in a white nightgown that clung to her dead frame like it was wet. Long back hair hung lankly in front of her face, and her skin was fish-belly white.
"If you ask me to get you out of a well, I am so gone," Eset whispered.
The ghost looked at her curiously, walking up to the soggy Silent Strider and reaching out a hand as if to touch her. Eset stumbled back, and the ghost looked surprised.
"No touchie!" Eset warned, her fetish eye flashing despite the lack of light. The ghost withdrew her hand and disappeared.
"Good fucking riddance," Eset mumbled. She glanced around to make sure the ghost was really gone and saw something that made her breath catch in her throat. She stumbled forward, reaching out to brush her fingers over the glyph. "A caern? There's a caern out here?" she whispered.
***
Giselle D'arcy, forever 15 years old, dripped ghostly water on the old wood floors as she whispered her secrets to the Guardian. The werewolf listened quietly as Giselle spoke. Down in the kitchen, Beau rattled the locked knife drawer, as was his want.
"Company," the Guardian whispered. "It's been so long since we've had company. We shall give her our hospitality."
Giselle, who climbed down into the well 18 years before, smiled.
Company was coming.
Universe: World of Darkness, Werewolf: the Apocalypse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A chance encounter out in the swamp may be the key to the sept's salvation.
Eset wasn't sure how to describe the smell of the swamp. Rotting vegetation, stagnant water, living creatures working hard to make other living things dead. It was alive and moving and she was never going to get the damn mud off her jeans. And these were her last pair.
She knew she should be glad to see such vital, wild places still in the world, but it didn't mean she wanted her clothes to smell like rotten veggies.
But she didn't dare travel along the main thoroughfares, not with those damn leeches still following her. If they wanted to catch her, they would have to do it on the ground of her choosing. Lets see how tough you are outside the city, she thought murderously.
She almost didn't spot the ghost lurking amongst the weeds. It was a dark eyed girl in a white nightgown that clung to her dead frame like it was wet. Long back hair hung lankly in front of her face, and her skin was fish-belly white.
"If you ask me to get you out of a well, I am so gone," Eset whispered.
The ghost looked at her curiously, walking up to the soggy Silent Strider and reaching out a hand as if to touch her. Eset stumbled back, and the ghost looked surprised.
"No touchie!" Eset warned, her fetish eye flashing despite the lack of light. The ghost withdrew her hand and disappeared.
"Good fucking riddance," Eset mumbled. She glanced around to make sure the ghost was really gone and saw something that made her breath catch in her throat. She stumbled forward, reaching out to brush her fingers over the glyph. "A caern? There's a caern out here?" she whispered.
***
Giselle D'arcy, forever 15 years old, dripped ghostly water on the old wood floors as she whispered her secrets to the Guardian. The werewolf listened quietly as Giselle spoke. Down in the kitchen, Beau rattled the locked knife drawer, as was his want.
"Company," the Guardian whispered. "It's been so long since we've had company. We shall give her our hospitality."
Giselle, who climbed down into the well 18 years before, smiled.
Company was coming.