A short double narrative. Rey meets a ghost with a familiar face, and Ikol
finds her too late.
⚠
Death, descriptions of a deceased person
"Natasha."
The final word, spoken with one of her last gasping breaths, was punctuated with a sense of betrayal and pain. The thought that the ghosts would have a sense of familiarity to them had never occurred to Rey prior to her slipping from her quarters. Concern had pulsed through her as she noted her missing roommate. It'd been far too long since Kady had vacated the suite and while not someone Rey was particularly close to in any of the worlds she'd been present in, Rey still was worried about the girl. And concern for her own safety? It was present, as was all survival instinct, but ghosts did not have the same cultural weight to them for her as they may have to those from Earth.
For Rey?
Ghosts were vastly valuable sources of information to turn to for guidance. And though she understood this not to be the case for the spirits unleashed this week, the innate danger others may have inferred by their very presence was not present for Rey. Perhaps, admittedly, there was some sense of arrogance as well. She could keep herself safe. She could venture out and ensure that her companions were not harmed. Even if the companion in question was one of the greatest battle magicians she knew of.
Stepping from Butler Hall, it was Armitage Hall that Rey chose to enter first. There'd been no rhyme or reason for this selection. It was simply where her feet had taken her and the silence had been far too eerie to go unnoticed. Having climbed up to the top floor, she'd been making her way back down and reaching out with the Force to try to find traces of any lifeforms. Some had taken refuge in these halls and Rey couldn't tell whom they were but she'd verify they were safe. And if they wanted someone to go with them back to Butler, perhaps being too frightened to try to leave, then Rey would have done this as well.
Her focus had been fully on the search for life that when the spirit's grip came for her saber, it took her entirely by surprise. She'd whipped around and it was only then that she glanced upon the spectral face of a woman she trusted across the realities. The surprise remained a moment later when the blade was ignited and was lunged forward against her; all before she could have ever thought to try to stop it. A memory of chaotic waves and clashing blades came to mind and she thought of the regret that had pulsed through here in the seconds after her actions. The thought of 'would Natasha feel the same?' barely crossed her mind before her vision clouded and a stray tear ran down her cheek all before Rey's body fell backwards and the saber followed seconds later with both landing with an unceremonious thud upon the ground.
Thori lowered himself for leverage. He knew that even despite his size and comparable weight to his master, using this strategy -- and all his stubborn will -- tended to work to a degree. Case in point: he was leaning back against Ikol’s grip on his collar with resolve and he was holding up pretty well against the strength of a Frost Giant.
“Stop it, Thori. We’re not --”
“SCENT. THORI WILL TRACK IT.”
“I told you, this was strictly walkies and then back.” How many others had to reason with their pet? Ikol sighed wearily and cast a glance around. The ghosts were still around, but they seemed to give Thori a wide berth. Perhaps the hel-fire spewing from his mouth was enough of a dissuasion, but there wasn’t any telling if that would remain the case.
“REY SCENT.” Thori growled, even as he tugged harder towards Armitage Hall.
That. That made Ikol slacken his grip. He gave the hel-hound a skeptical look. Thori might be one to exploit name drops, but he also had decided a number of Derleth’s occupants were his friends, as well. Rey was a friend. And Thori, for all his faults and gruffness, wasn’t actually a liar.
The collar slipped from Ikol’s fingers and Thori bolted into the building, nose directed down as he snuffled his way further in and up. There were plenty of scenarios that played out in his mind as he scaled stairs and pushed through hallways, but --
Something made a noise. A dull thud. A metallic clank.
Thori had stopped short at the threshold of a classroom, his fiery stare pointed inside for a few long seconds before he turned to look at his master with something that rarely played upon his canine features. He looked scared. Ikol slowed his pace to walk up beside the small dog and set his gaze on the lone figure inside.
It was Rey, but the angle of the body was wrong. She was graceful and nimble, and the crumple of her limbs was especially unnatural because of it. His slowed and staggered steps turned back into a sprint. He dropped to his knees to get his arms beneath her and lift her head -- straighten out that ragdoll posture that was so ill-suited to any living thing.
“Rey? Rey?” He wasn’t a healer. He was barely medically-inclined. She was limp, loose. She wasn’t breathing. He looked down and spotted the charring of her clothing…
She wasn’t breathing.
The sound of something metallic rolling made him look up, but all he saw was Thori nudging the lightsaber with his nose. Rey’s weapon. He stared at it for a few seconds as his mind tried to put together what had happened. He felt dread rising up, but several lives of grim business had given him enough of a collected wit to use his reason before his emotions. “Take her lightsaber, Thori. We’re getting her out of here.”
Because whatever else was real in this moment -- her pallor, her stillness -- he knew he couldn’t leave her here.