Truce sets the bag of charred sports equipment down on his Sanctum floor. It had been easy to find a nearby Hockey Rink that held league matches. But shopping for Charlene's size was a bit more difficult. Even so he is sure he has found a good match to satisfy her. And after a bit of lighter fluid and a well-placed match, the equipment is now an unusable pile of melted, singed, and twisted polypropylene, as intended.
Truce had made a deal with the Ghost to keep her entertained while she remained in the Fallen World, though not in so many words or particulars. Essentially it seems easier to keep her out of trouble when she is entertained. As the human psyche goes, however, once one need is satisfied then another persists. He hopes that once she has let go of her malice that her burdens would be lifted. Then again his investigation into her death unresolved, she might remain. He hopes he's making the right decision. Charlene had torn apart her murderer's Ghost after killing his physical body, so she has shown an affinity for violence. He would have to step in if she decides to abuse the gift.
Soon the winter hockey season would start up and she could enjoy the illusion of playing alongside the ice skaters, under supervision of course.
He clears his mind as he places hands upon the remains of the hockey gear. He creates the Imago in his mind, envisioning the physical form restructuring itself into an ephemeral copy. It isn't something he's used to doing however, and the vision fades away. Seems like a lot of work for a troublesome Ghost. His thoughts grow bitter and impatient from the effort but he knows that misplaced frustration would do him little good. He spends more time focusing on the Imago that eludes him, giving it a second try.
Improvised Ghostly Object, 1sux
Something clicks and the spell manifests, the sensation that the Supernal had been drawn down, slipping through the Abyss undetected. Truce raises his hands and performs the rote gestures to peer through the veil into Twilight to observe his handiwork. The equipment's 'ghost' comes into vision, sitting atop the bag, or rather through it with the subtle transparency of ephemera. Looking up, he sees the Ghosts crowded around him, looking expectantly at him and the sudden appearance of hockey gear manifesting in their plane.
"Coooool," says Charlene with an eager excitement, reaching for her gift like a child on Christmas.
"And here I didn't even have a chance to wrap it," says Truce with a wry smile, sharing the enthusiasm.
Chelsea tilts her head to the side, looking confused or perhaps envious, but of the gift or the emotions Charlene exhibited, Truce could not tell. He had explained his work to her and she seemed to understand him for the most part. But it must seem like such a distraction from efforts to find Chelsea's killer. It is no wonder she cannot share in the joy. Truce feels a pang of guilt, but he knows that there is still good to be done, and Truce would not stop searching for clues.
Thomas looks on with limited interest, more pleased that Charlene's attention was elsewhere than on bothering him for enjoyment.
In a moment Charlene has donned the new equipment and is attempting to admire herself by twisting and turning around.
"You look fine," pipes up Thomas.
"You look ready to play for real," adds Truce with a soft smile.
Charlene grins, looking pumped. "Sooooo? When are we going to play? Let's go right now!" she wails excitedly.
"Yes, alright. We'll go. I've checked up on the league schedules. They've only got practices right now, but it's open to the public so there shouldn't be an issue." He decides that he'll print out a more structured schedule later on so he could plan out some time to visit the hockey rink every so often.
Yells echo around the vast room that occupied the rink. The temperature is kept low to keep the ice from melting and Truce keeps his jacket on even after entering indoors. The weather is a fair bit more comfortable. His book bag sits beside him on the bleachers, containing an old yearbook, a ring, and bracelet. There's something dangerous about being surrounded by Ghosts in this public place. He couldn't know who else might see the specters and realize their connection with Truce. It could draw suspicion. But he only plans to bring Thomas and Chelsea this one time. Neither seem very keen to be there aside from experiencing the new sights and sounds.
Charlene is already on the ice, zipping around wildly between the players, and sometimes through them. She cackles with glee at the rush, albeit imagined. She doesn't create any friction even without the skates but the memory of the experience is enough to propel her about. They don't see her, but some still react at times as she creates small manifestations, causing some players to trip, others to recoil at some unexpected vision or feeling. Truce puts his hand to his head and lets out a sigh at this. But still, as long as she's satisfied by the experience and causing the living to fall down stairs. And hopefully it helps her to trust Truce and the advice he's tried to give her.
"Thomas! Truce! Look at me! I'm going to score a goal!" She smacks the ghost puck that he'd made her hard with the ghost stick and it sails speedily into the net, passing right through it. She jumps in victory, floating for a moment before settling back to the ice.
Thomas and Truce share a look, and then a smile, and then wave back to Charlene in support.
Chelsea rests her chin on her hand, staring distantly, unreadable in her thoughts.
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