Surrounded on most sides by trees, the Wistvale Cemetery is sequestered away from the world. Ancient and decaying, mausoleums and headstones wing their way haphazardly among the hills and trees, monuments from a dozen different religions and cultures. The air is still, but the wind has a tendency to pick up without warning.
The dead here are restless, but not aggressive. Many entities still wander this place, and under certain circumstances will show themselves. The undead are warned not to linger in this place long; they have a tendency to find themselves staying, for eternity.
It opens on one side to a farmer's field and a hill, perfect for watching the sunset.
Skulduggery pushed open the rusty metal gate, listening to it creak. He wasn't sure why he was here or what exactly he was looking for. Someone, he thought. Someone important.
He took a step in and his foot was engulfed in the thick mist that hung along the ground. He paused, considering the lopsided and haphazard rows of headstones, monuments, and mausoleums that spanned the hillside. On the far side, in the distance, he saw a farmer's field. All around the graveyard were tall trees, half dead in these colder fall months.
Slowly, reverentially, he walked among the headstones, glancing at each one in turn. Every so often he would look at one and feel as though it were looking back. To these he would tip his hat and move on. He felt as though he were unwelcome.
He stopped at a tall stone bench. Behind the bench knelt a stone statue of a woman, laying her hands on either side of the bench, looking at the ground. Skul wasn't sure if the woman was ever a real person, but in his heart he wished her luck. He sat on the bench and sighed. A force of habit; no air passed his teeth but he still made the sound.
Why had he come? This was probably the twelfth one he'd searched. Top to bottom, every time. It pulled him, the smell and feel of death. Well, not death perhaps. More...the rest afterwards. The idea that there was someone he had to make sure was asleep. A promise he had to keep.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Suddenly the wind picked up. He stood as the mists swirled a bit, somehow growing taller and blocking out the dim dusk sunlight. Leaves flew along the ground. Skul's scarf recoiled, flying out behind him, as did the edges of his suit. He tightened the scarf around his neck and held his hat as he headed in a random direction. Lost...you are lost...you have lost... Whispers. He heard whispers. He froze in place, the world around him growing darker as the sun set. He snapped his fingers, and his fingertips sparked and blazed with a small purple flame.
Who's there? He stood still, listening to the wind as it whipped about him. The whispers grew louder, as if taunting him. Lost, lost, lost...she was here, not long ago. He looked up, startled. Something in him recoiled in fear, terror, and rage.
Who? Who is she? What are you talking about?
The whispers solidified before him, taking the form of several wispy, slinking, vaguely feminine shapes. He pulled his hat down a bit as they followed the wind, whipping around his body. Icy cold fingers caressed his skull, dragged along his spine. Stay with us...she is nothing to you. You don't even remember... Skul batted one away, the feeling of its body like cobwebs.
Get...away from me. Tell me why I'm here. Who am I looking for? They giggled, their touches growing more bold and aggressive. He had to stop himself from being gently but firmly pushed over. One stopped in front of him, taking the sides of his skull in its hands, looking into his eyes. Its eyes were darker, emptier than Skul's own. At least his had the spark of life, of animation and intelligence. These held nothing but sheer cold abyss. She was here, not long ago. But she left. Looking for someone. For you. It leaned forward, its cold, spectral lips dancing along his jaw. Stay with us...forever. She is gone from here. You does not remember and neither do you. Stay with us. Skul felt himself being grabbed roughly by his arms, chilling hands like a vicegrip on his bones. They forced him still, and he felt himself being pulled back, into something. He growled, the fire on his hand growing brighter...and spreading.
I said get away!
The purple flame flashed up his arm, engulfing his frame in bright purple fire. There was a hissing shriek as the things recoiled in pain. He stood as they swirled around him as the flames died down, whispering amongst themselves.
Now. Tell me where I can find her.
She is not here, she left some time ago. But...you may ask the Soulkeeper.
Almost reluctantly, they parted, and the mist cleared a bit, showing Skul a pathway through the headstones to the side of the graveyard that opened into the field. Without a word he walked toward it, allowing the things to slip away, giggling and dispersing into the mist.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
There was a hill in the middle of the field. On it stood another stone bench, a long-dead tree, and a scarecrow. The rest of the field was young, chest-high plants Skul couldn't identify. The Soulkeeper? Was that a person or a thing? Either way Skul had no idea where to go. The sun had already set, and the moon was beginning to rise, shedding an eerie blue light over everything.
He stood in the field, listening to the wind gently blow over the crops around him, wondering why he was there. He looked to the hill and decided if nothing else, he could get a better view. It was steeper than it looked, but in a few moments he stood at the top, straining to make out anything around him.
He....help.
Skul almost started, hearing the tiny voice behind him. There was no one there besides the scarecrow, a shoddily-made one with long twine hair and a hat that covered its face. Knowing enough to not count out the possibility, he cautiously stepped toward it and gently raised its hat.
Help.
I was undeniable now. The scarecrow's pitiful button eyes looked down at him as its head shifted weakly. Its jagged, torn mouth barely moved as it spoke. Skul nodded and looked at the scarecrow's arms. They were tied to the cross-shaped pole it was on, the rope old and rotted. It was easy to untie it, but the scarecrow's torso looked to be held on with two long metal spikes.
I may not be able to catch you before you hit the ground. This may hurt a little.
Just...just get me off this thing.
He nodded, straining as he pulled the metal spikes from the rotting wood, hearing them slide out the burlap skin of the scarecrow. As he pulled out the second one, he hugged the pole, wrapping an arm around her, and pulled the spike all the way.
She was remarkably light, only a few dozen pounds, a head shorter than he was. He was easily able to hold her up under her arms as he gently pulled her away from the pole. He nearly stopped in surprise as he realized he was using "she" in his mind; as rugged and misshapen as the scarecrow was, its voice was definitely female, and its features were at least intended to be. He picked her up in both arms and set her down gently on the stone bench, holding her steady.
Can you sit up?
I...I think so.
It was hard to tell what she was looking at, or any kind of emotion at all. But her voice was distant, as if she were exhausted, or drugged. Skul let go, and she wobbled, but braced herself on the bench. He let her sit for a moment, and sit on the ground in front of her.
Are you the Soulkeeper? The scarecrow raised her head and looked at him, as if surprised.
Y...yes. Or I was. For a while. When...when souls are traveling the world they sometimes want something solid to rest in. Something human-shaped. Something that reminds them of what they were.
She spoke slowly, but strongly, sure of what she was. She raised a hand, looking at it. It looked like a stitched, abused leather glove.
I used to be a normal scarecrow. Souls came and went, using the shape to rest. Until she came. She was so strong, so hurt, so angry and sad and hopeful that she left part of herself behind. She liked this body. I like my body. She is me...or part of her is. She looked at Skul almost pleadingly.
I don't know what I am. Three years ago I looked at the field and knew there was a me, that I existed. That was after she left. She wants to come back, but she can't stay in one place for very long. I remember she was looking for someone.
She slipped forward a few inches, sitting on her knees in front of Skulduggery.
That was you, wasn't it? She was looking for you. If you could find her, bring her back here... She spread her arms.
I would be her, and she would be me. She's missing a part of her soul. I think she left it behind on purpose. She knew you would be coming. If you can bring her back here, we'll be together. Both me and her...and you and I. Skul looked at the ground, shaking his head a little.
I...I don't remember any of this! I don't remember anyone, at least in detail. I don't know that you're...she's...who I'm looking for. How do I know? She was quiet for a moment.
The whole time she was here she wanted to find you. She's all you have left, you know.
Skul knew it was true. At the edge of his brain he knew that the person he was looking for was the only reason he'd come back. Sheer, unguided rage and willpower had made his bones move again, but without knowledge of why. The scarecrow leaned forward, taking off her hat, looking down as if embarrassed.
She wanted you to be together. She...she wanted to give you this.
She put a hand on his chest and kissed him. Unlike the things in the graveyard, this was warm. Something in his mind burst with recognition. There was no flesh there to recognize, to taste, no smell. But the scarecrow held just enough of her soul for him to sense, and his mind he could sense it anywhere, even if he himself could not. It lasted only a moment before she sat back on the ground, putting her straw hat back on, looking down.
Find her. Please. I'll...I'll stay here. If that's okay. I don't feel right leaving here, at least until she's here with me. Skul got up, holding out a hand to help the scarecrow to her feet.
Of course. If I do find her I'll bring her back here. He put his hands on her shoulders, unsure.
Thank you. Sincerely. I at least know what I'm doing now.
She smiled, still looking down, putting her head on his chest, hugging him.
Remember you're looking for the both of us. She's still out there, looking for you. Don't forget that. He hugged the scarecrow back.
I won't. Thank you. I'll be back. I promise.
Reluctantly, he let go, tipping his hat and turning away, leaving the scarecrow to sit in the moonlight.
Last Edit: Aug 5, 2011 15:42:53 GMT -5 by Skulldon
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Skul entered the graveyard from the front gate again, lighting a cigarette in the damp cemetery air. He stopped at the twenty-first headstone on the left, one with an ornate angel, chipped and worn with age. Around its neck was a black wooden case on a strap. He grabbed it as he passed.
He still fumed a bit. He looked back towards town. It was getting dark and he could see the fire still raging. There was the first fire, one that the thief set off, then the one the woman set off. They sort of melded together after a while. The one with the thief still bothered him, because it was partially his fault, and he wasn't sure why he cared it was his fault. There was no one in direct danger, he didn't hurt anyone. Houses are just things, aren't they. Maybe it was jealousy. He wasn't sure.
He saw the Scarecrow sitting on the bench on the hill, facing the fire in the distance. Her glass-button eyes shined with curiosity.
What's going on down there?
Skul sighed, sat next to her, and opened the case, retrieving his guitar. It was oblong and black, shaped a little like a coffin. He plucked a few strings and began to tune it.
Because I had to come make sure you didn't burst into flame.
I can take care of myself out here. You should be helping.
Why? It's not my property.
Skulduggery. Skul stopped like a child scolded. Scarecrow's eyes were as impassive as ever, but Skul felt real disappointment.
Finding her is important, but so is keeping hold of who you are. She took his hand.
You were kind. I remember that, very strongly. You can't forget who you were, or who you are. I know it's hard to stay...human, but you need to try. For me. Skul was silent for a long time.
I'll try. I can't make any promises.
That's all I ask. Are you going to go help with the fires? Skul paused.
After this song. Okay? Scarecrow sighed and shook her head, leaning against Skul's shoulder as he played.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Now you're mine for eternity, My love you for will never die, A peaceful perfect harmony, 'Cause dead girls don't....cry...
Skul let the last note hang in the air.
Crow?
He felt her breathing, slowly and steadily. Which, in itself, was weird, but old habits died hard. He carefully set his guitar on the ground and gently lowered Scarecrow to lay on the stone bench. She shifted ,but did not wake. He wondered why she needed sleep or if she even did, but it didnt matter much. He took off his suit jacket and laid it over her, picking up his guitar and replacing it in its case, and putting the case back on the angel. He felt a little more...human, as he'd promised. How long it would last was anyone's guess. He left quietly, shutting the gate gently, promising himself he'd get some oil for it later...
Last Edit: Aug 12, 2011 6:11:53 GMT -5 by Skulldon
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Zaedus entered the graveyard, with hesitation. He was sensitive to the spirit realm, having had many encounters with the druids and shamans in his clan. He reached for the Jawbone hanging from his belt
Baelzar....Maybe you will come to me here, the spirit energy here is strong...
Zaedus continued walking through the rows of graves, waiting.
Zaedus felt a prickling on the back of his neck as the wind picked up. There were voices at the very edge of his hearing, whispering to him. His brother? He looks for his brother....he will find no souls here... Something brushed his muzzle, a cold caress. Except his own. His brother suffers in the afterlife...endless torment. The whispers turned sinister, taunting. How does that make you feel? He curses you with every breath...your fault....your fault.... They got louder and louder, coming to a head, almost shouting. Then a single soft voice broke through the sound.
Ladies, please.
Instantly the whispers stopped. Standing some distance away from Zaedus was a scarecrow. She was patched, dirty, ripped, and rotted, and stared at Zaedus with dirty glass-button eyes. Sharply contrasting the burlap and straw she was made of was the crisp black suit jacket she held around her shoulders.
I am sorry. They get anxious around the living. She cocked her head.
Why are you here?
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
The cold embrace made his hair stand on end, the fact they knew of his brother also put him on edge. He broke from his concentration to try and break the torrent of voices when he heard the scarecrow speak.
What manner of enitity decided to inhabit a scarecrow? If I may ask without offending.
Post by Sabalae'lochan Do'afin on Aug 13, 2011 23:24:53 GMT -5
Eerie, this graveyard that drew her attention away from the living and toward the deathly shadows. Sabalea'lochan was not sure why she was here. Was it the tendrils of fog that weaved their way around her legs and around the graves? They were mesmerizing she had to admit. Though that wasn't what drew Sabalea'lochan to this place.
This place had a crushing weight to it, something that most places did not. It reminded her of something, the stench of death and wet moss perked her interest. This graveyard felt like the darkest depths of her home where she had spent her childhood. The suffocating atmosphere and the chill was like a warm blanket. How ironic that something cold could be warm. Even more ironic was that Sabalea'lochan could find this place so comforting.
She paused mid stride and reexamined her surroundings. While Sabalea'lochan was thinking she hand wandered farther and farther into the graveyard.
It was not my decision. I would have preferred something else. Something less...dirty. She shrugged.
My reason for being here is much less important than yours.
------------------------- Sabalae heard something, echoing on the wind. A slow, sad sound, at one screeching and harsh and slow and pleading. The fog obscured her vision, but the sound came from the east end of the graveyard, to her right.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Post by Sabalae'lochan Do'afin on Aug 14, 2011 0:10:31 GMT -5
She couldn't see, it was like the fog had a mind of its own; and maybe it did. Sabalea'lochan strained to see something but there was nothing but darkness and gray gloom. Her attention was drawn to the east by her curiosity and the need to see again.
Hello...?
Her voice trembled, it sounded so small and quiet in this place; and that noise on the wind, it chilled her more then the damp did.
Is anyone there?
Sabalea'lochan whispered as she stumbled blindly into the fog.
The only answer was more of the sound. As she got closer, it seemed to organize itself into a sad, slow bit of music.
The moon shined through the fog above her, suddenly silhouetting the shape of a figure reclining on a long stone sarcophagus, torso propped up by an adjoining wall, a violin tucked under its chin.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Post by Sabalae'lochan Do'afin on Aug 14, 2011 0:26:38 GMT -5
Sad, why?
Sabalea'lochan came to a stop and gazed upon the figure with the violin, each cord struck made her heart ache with sadness; but who or what was it? She pulled the hood of her cloak over her eyes and stood still in the shadows, watching.
Numl...
She whispered the drow word for sad very softly, for this was a sad moment.