|patience montgomery will bake you a pie (patientia) wrote in uprisingrpg,|
@ 2011-06-02 22:21:00
|Entry tags:||kevin entwhistle, su li|
What: being ghosts?
When: early Thursday
Where: Hogsmeade somewhere.
Kevin hadn't been able to let go. It had hurt more, because he refused to simply pass into the blackness, because he couldn't relinquish his grip on his life. Even when it seemed futile, he was still grasping at something, anything, that would tie him to the mortal world.
Eventually, the pain faded, and everything was hazy instead - like floating in the clouds without the shell of an airplane around him. Floating was a good word, but it didn't quite describe it. Floating implied that there was weight to be floated, that there was enough pressure (whether magical or natural) coming up from beneath him, like water, to hold his weight. Kevin felt weightless.
It felt like an eternity before he was able to see. Then he opened his eyes, and it was dark - it was night. How long had passed since he'd fallen? He looked around, surprised by how high up he seemed to be. He tried to take a step forward, and his foot didn't meet the ground. It was then that he looked down at himself.
He was transparent, and still floating. Kevin blinked and tried to move, ending up doing a half-somersault through the air. He righted himself again and flinched as a tree came up directly in front of him, lifting his hands to brace himself against the crash. But instead of crashing, he was partly inside it, and wasn't that a weird feeling. What had that spider done to him, to give him that ability? Was being bitten by an Acromantula kind of like being bitten by a radioactive spider, or--
The reality sank in as he was thinking it. He wasn't Spiderman, he was a ghost. That meant he was dead, but after a brief moment of confusion and a little sadness, this revelation pleased him. He grinned and moved through the tree, frolicking around and moving somewhat awkwardly until he had figured out how ghost movement worked.
It then occurred to him that everything was awfully quiet, for a place that had been noisy with fighting, last he remembered. It wasn't because he couldn't hear, as a ghost - he had heard his own laughter, and the movement of people in their homes, and the wind in the trees. He wandered through Hogsmeade, searching for someone that could tell him what had happened, what he'd missed - where everyone had gone. He needed to find people. They probably thought he was dead - which, he was, but he was a ghost. A ghost! This was potentially the coolest thing that had ever happened to him.