Speak with the Dead
Date Action Roll Result
2015-02-27 14:17:03 Truce rolls 7 to cast Speak with the Dead rote at Sanctum [WIT+Occ+Death] (10 Again) 10, 7, 5, 3, 8, 8, 2, 4 3 successes
The Sanctum smells of scented candles, a subtle touch for easing anxieties. They are never quite alone now that the Cabal has formed. The homestead is much bigger with more people. There is more energy here, more emotion. The resonance is that of transition and Truce hopes that it will have a positive effect on Chelsea, their Guardian Ghost. Yet there have been some problems with the arrangment. Chelsea is sensitive to these changes and has not taken them well. Her reactions are more extreme and she seems to be gaining an unusual amount of Essence which only heightens her abilities.

Truce sits in an armchair in his suite, his attention fixed on the ephemeral form of his former lover.

"Chelsea, how are you feeling today?" he asks with a friendly smile.

Chelsea does not sit on the couch so much as hover, but she seems to be pretending to, the way her legs are bent over the cushions.

"I am..." she starts, trailing off as her attention wanes. "I am fine," she states, giving the generic answer.

Truce shifts in his seat slightly, keeping the smile on his face.

"There's been a lot going on lately, hasn't there. A new home. New faces. I just want to make sure you're adjusting well. How do feel about our new home so far?" he asks more specifically.

Chelsea's form blinks, the lines becoming more jagged for a brief moment. "I do not like it," she states, returning his gaze. "It is stuffy."

"Stuffy? What do you mean?" Truce's smile fades as he becomes more thoughtful.

"There is too much. Too much," she repeats. Truce remains silent, allowing her to finish her thoughts.

"Too much life. Too much livliness. I feel swept away, buried. I am not alive. I am not really here." Her form wobbles, swelling and shaking as she floats up higher off the couch. Her hands move to her head as if fending off a headache. "You buried me. I am dead..." she moans, her brows knitting as her ephemeral features contort more violently.

"It's alright," says Truce quickly. "You're still here, you're still you. Death is not an end, but a transition, remember? If anything what you may be feeling is the strength of the connection that keeps you here." He doesn't wish for this to end in another tantrum. There had already been some complaints.

Chelsea seems to calm herself and her form softens. "I am here. Yes. I am fine. The others left though. Where did they go?"

Truce looks confused for a moment, trying to consider her meaning. "The others, Chelsea?"

"The others like me. The violent one, and the quiet one. Charlene. Thomas."

"Oh, well, they moved on. They let go of their attachments so they could pass on through the higher realms," Truce explains hesitantly, wary of how she might react to the news.

Chelsea seems to shrink now, tightning into herself at hearing this. "Is that what you want to happen to me?"

Truce is silent at this. He looks away from her, not quite sure how to phrase his answer. "I want...what I want is for your to find peace. I don't want to see you suffer in this state." Since when did he get put on the couch?

"You want me to go away so you can spend time with your new friends. Those special people like you who laugh at me, the dead girl!" she cries angrily, the echo of her voice resounding in Twilight. "I'm just a burden on you, aren't I? You always talk about the burdens of the world and now I'm one of them!"

  Touch of the Grave
Date Action Roll Result
2015-02-27 14:22:05 Truce rolls 1 to roll for forgotten Paradox (10 Again) 8 1 success
2015-02-27 14:17:32 Truce rolls 4 to cast improvised Touch of the Grave [GNO+Death] (10 Again) 7, 7, 9, 5 1 success
Truce stands from the armchair as Chelsea begins to rise, floating in the center of the room over him. Pain wracks his form as he calls on the Imago, reality snapping back on him in the attempt to manipulate the realm of Twilight. He reaches out his hands and takes hold of hers. "No. No, that's not what I think. No one is laughing at you. You aren't a burden. You are the last piece, the only piece I have left of that girl I knew. Chelsea..." he says, his voice as soft as hers was angry. "You are precious to me. And I wish I could only do more for you. But I cannot control what fate and time has wrought. Things change. We change. And not always for the better."

Chelsea doesn't resist Truce's touch, instead coming down to his height and staring at the sudden bruise forming on the back of his hand. They trail up to meet his gaze with some wonder. Those dark spheres that seethed with vengence and hate seem to pale and dim as the rage is pacified.

"Things...change," she echoes. "But I do not change like you do. I will...try, to help you. But I am...I must..." the thoughts are half formed as she drifts away from him. Truce lets her go, watches as she passes through a wall, stretching along her invisible tether to escape the conversation.

Truce sits back down, wondering over their spat. The city's affairs had claimed much of his time, a consistent problem. But he reminds himself that the Consilium may yet provide him a powerful method of rooting out the Scelesti and giving Chelsea the justice to put her soul to rest.

1 Bashing received to soak Paradox