Sir Thomas Sharpe (justametaphor) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-10-26 15:49:00 |
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Yennefer meets a ghost version of herself who forces her to confront feelings of her past. Along with Thomas they discuss the dangers of the other ghosts. And Yennefer tries out her powers against an angry spirit.
"You won't be able to fight them all." The warning was simple enough. It seemed an easy solution to stay in her room where the wards would keep her safe. Yennefer of Vengerberg was not a coward, though, and she would not hide away like some scared little girl. Like the image of this ghost of her was. Even still, her heart ached to look at her. It had been decades since she'd really thought about this version of herself, the one who could barely stand, let alone do anything useful. The one with the jaw so twisted it hurt to talk or eat. Yennefer looked down at her own wrists — the scars as a remembrance — one of the two things she'd asked Giltine to keep for her transformation. This apparition did not have them. "I don't need to destroy them all. Just enough to scare the rest of them." The ghostly Yennefer covered her hand with her mouth, as if trying not to laugh. No sound came out though, but there was mirth in those glazed over eyes. Mirth and something else. Pity. Yennefer felt her lip curl up in disgust. She didn't want anyone's pity. She didn't want (or need) anyone to save her. She was done pretending to be some simpering girl, desperate to be important to someone. No, she wanted the power she had, and that would be her legacy. There would be legends about Yennefer of Vengerberg and the people she'd saved along the way. The apparition whispered, "You can think it all you want, but we both just want to be loved. You made your own greatest fear come true." Thomas had been standing — well, sort of hovering — off to the side while the two Yennefers faced each other. While they sized each other up, or down as the case may be, and exchanged verbal jabs which only hurt themselves. To say that he was uncannily contemplative during the interaction was putting it mildly, but everything his Yennefer said felt like it could have been directed towards him. He wasn’t that different, after all. Had he not also just wanted to be loved? And had he not, in his selfish desire to have that love, made his own fears come true? His teeth gnawed together behind closed lips, hard enough to cause pain in his jaw. Not real pain, of course. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt himself in that way anymore. But he could still perceive pain. And he could still remember what it felt like. Emotions had a very complicated connection to the physical form, after all. Even if the physical form was no longer corporeal. He turned his attention to the Yennefer he knew well. The one who had lived in his home for a time. The Yennefer who was taken in under false pretences. Tricked with lies by both himself and his sister. Lured in by a facade of kindness and love. Only to be turned into an experiment. Sold off so that the Sharpes could continue to secure their positions and property. Thomas felt guilty about a lot of things in his life, but Yennefer was one of his greatest moments of shame. He allowed his sister to take in a poor, unloved creature and treat her no better than the beetles that crawled over clumps of dung in the hot sun. And he did nothing to help. Sure, he’d tried to make up for it in the end. Just as he’d tried with Edith. And he’d dedicated much of his time trapped in the second and third floors to protecting Yennefer from the real evil that lingered in those warded rooms. But it wasn’t enough. Centuries may have passed. He didn’t know. Time was endless in Derleth. But it wouldn’t matter. It would never be enough. Some crimes couldn’t be made up for. Thomas swallowed a thick lump in his throat. It went nowhere. “Some of them can’t be frightened,” he finally said. “And us arguing with each other isn’t going to do any good. Many of them pose no threat. It’s the vengeful spirits we need to be mindful of. They’ll do whatever they can to remain in this universe.” "I'll see if I can repair the barrier," Yennefer answered, turning to look between the pair. It struck her then that this was why he sought her out. He knew another version of her, and that version of her was what? Pitiable? Broken? An entirely pathetic sort? Did he feel sorry for her? Yennefer had not been this girl in a very long time, and while she carried that anger with her, she wasn't interested in reliving it. She stood on the second floor, in the center of the hallway, attempting to reach out for the barrier. To see what was left of it. Though it couldn't be seen, Yennefer could feel the tendrils of magic eject from her fingers — stretching, reaching, elongating — to the barrier. It wasn't broken; it was no longer there. As if someone had unlocked it completely. "It's gone completely. There is no barrier left to repair." Yennefer would have to make a whole new barrier, and then somehow get all of the spirits behind it. Would that even be enough? Would it be easier just to destroy them? One by one? Or work out traps? This was going to take a lot of magic. The apparition of Yennefer struggled her way to Thomas, standing just behind his shoulder. Hovering, as she often did when she sensed something coming. "They're not coming back to these floors," she told him. "They've been trapped here too long. They won't want to be anywhere near here." Thomas didn’t pity Yennefer. Either of them. There had been a time in his world when he felt some measure of sympathy for his Yennefer. It was odd to think of her in that way because she wasn’t his no more than he was hers, but it made sense in his head. Made things clearer. Early on, after Lucille brought home that poor, wretched, deformed young woman, Thomas had felt sorry for her. Sorry that she had lived the life she had. Sorry that her life would be even worse at Crimson Peak and then later at Derleth. But those feelings had been fleeting. Thomas learned quickly that she wasn’t the one to be pitied. He was. Lucille was. Edith was. Everyone who was part of the great ghost experiment was to be felt sorry for. Yennefer was a better person than all of them. Stronger too, in many ways. Most people simply didn’t see it because they couldn’t see beyond the physical. ‘Beautiful things are fragile,’ Lucille used to always say. And she was right. But more important than that was what she didn’t say. Ugly things are strong. Hideous things aren’t afraid. Broken things can’t be hurt. That was something that took Thomas a long time to learn. And his Yennefer had helped him see it for the truth. “There’s no way to create that barrier. Not again. It took an incredible amount of power and synchronizing events to put it up in the first place,” Thomas said. He turned his gaze to the ghostly Yennefer. There was a gentle sadness in his eyes. He was weary and tired and it took up too much energy to try and appear normal. So he looked as he did in death. Pale, gaunt. One red eye weeping while his face oozed blood. Blood that twisted and curled in the air like smoke. “We’d be wasting our time trying to restore it. The best we can do is try to isolate and contain as many of the apparitions as possible. And the bad ones…” A visible shiver coursed through his translucent form. He was thinking about his sister, wondering why he hadn’t seen her yet. “Maybe we can find a way to destroy them. Then we just hope that when the campus resets that they all disappear.” He hesitated because what he wasn’t saying was ‘we’. That we’d all disappear. Him and his Yennefer included. The ghostly version of Yennefer still held some sweetness to her, despite all that she'd been through. She trusted him, even after the discovery that he hadn't taken her in from the goodness of his own heart. She understood the lengths that people went through to secure their futures. If she'd had one of those futures herself, she might even have discovered a truth about herself. Instead, she was frozen in time as she'd been on the day of the final experiment. She'd hadn't been scared. Derleth was full of ghosts, and she presumed that one day she'd become one, and her life had been full of so much physical and emotional pain that being free from it sounded like a mercy. Though not entirely confined to her Earthly body, her visage still bore the deformities that left her an orphan and on Lucille's to-sacrifice list. She knew no other way, so when she reached out for Thomas's elbow, there was her usual skittering awkwardness. "We'll work on the bad ones then." Yennefer agreed. If she could catch lightning in a bottle, surely she could trap a few spirits. It wouldn't be the first time; it was just difficult when there were so many differences between the worlds and the rules that dictated them. She'd need to prepare, which meant she'd be confined to her room while she worked enchantments. "I'll need a list. Of the truly awful ones that need to be contained — or destroyed — first. Can you help with that?" Now that the cat was out of the bag, she hoped that Thomas would be more useful than vague dreams about the ghosts on the other side of the barrier. There was something familiar about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on — even if she could in the very literal of senses. There was something that reminded her of Istredd. Perhaps it was the fancy clothes, and the rust that seemed more like dirt. Thomas, for his part, remained firm in his position. The exact opposite of ghostly Yennefer’s skittish unease. It probably gave off some misconceptions. First and foremost being that he wasn’t afraid. That despite the chaos he still had a measure of control. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Deep inside, Thomas was a man who’d allowed another person to dictate most of his life. His life and his love. It wasn’t until the end of his mortal existence that he decided to be his own person. To have an identity outside of Lucille and the horror she’d made of their lives. Yennefer and Edith helped Thomas turn on his sister. It had been a defining moment for him. It was a change that had been a long time coming. But that didn’t make him brave or strong. Being trapped in the warded floors was what had hardened him, but underneath that cold seemingly-uncaring exterior he was still afraid. And not just of Lucille who he knew to be lurking the campus somewhere. But of what would happen at the end of the week. Where would he go — where would they all go — when Derleth reset itself? Would they be haunting the space between universes forever? He didn’t return his Yennefer’s touch, but he did look at her with an encouraging expression. As though to insinuate that everything would be alright. That was a lie, of course, but it didn’t matter. The intention was meant as a kindness. “There are so many that are pure evil,” Thomas said with actual dejection in his voice. For the first time he realized how absurdly impossible this task would be. Trapping the evil spirits from various worlds? Spirits that he and other professors at Derleth had spent years summoning through portals and experiments. He thought of Professor Sanchez. Thomas had never really liked the man, but if he were here they might actually have a chance at reconstructing some of their old work. Thomas’s lips drew into a thin line at the thought of all those old contraptions he’d helped build. How long had it been since he’d actually invented something? A wisp of blood floated in front of his face. “I can do my best. But they won’t be difficult to find. They’ll go to wherever the most powerful people are. Ones that they can possess. Probably with the hope that their power will bind them to the person and allow them to survive the reset. Or they’ll appear in places where people are in greater numbers to maximize the damage and chaos.” "Well, at least I have some bait." Being a powerful mage, with some necromancy knowledge, with life longevity had its perks, she supposed. Aside from the obvious. If she could trick some of the purer evil ones to her, she could destroy them. If nothing else, she could seal them up into objects. A little like she had planned to seal the Djinn to herself, but she would not be the bottle this time. Trinkets and other items, then, perhaps she could seal them away somewhere. That would work. Yennefer was all business, making a list of items and spells she'd need to contain them. Spells she could use to destroy them. Potential banishing spells. She'd been facetious when she'd spoken to Jaskier that Witchers weren't everything when it came to monsters, but the truth was: they could use his help. All of his signs were small one-handed spells that allowed them to use their weaponry at the same time, but they could be effective with magical backup. "I'll head to my room to prepare, then I'll —" Perhaps she should have considered that if another ghostly version of herself and Thomas were here, that some other ghost might appear. The air turned frightfully cold; Yennefer's breath was clearly seen in the air in front of her. Her breath was shaky from the cold, but not fear. "Well, here's a time to test out my banishment spell." Get back to work! Yennefer could see no way this ghost could speak. His body was very badly burnt, as if his skin sloughed away in the aftermath. Meat and bone were seen beneath it. His eyes were blank holes, but Yennefer felt that he could still see her. While the man was naked — his clothes must have burned — there was nothing but horror to look upon. She'd seen this kind of burning before. Almost never a full body of these types of burns, but blacksmiths often had massive accidents that caused the skin to slough this way. GET BACK TO WORK, I SAID! She could hear the ghostly version of herself let out a soft cry. The physical Yennefer wanted her to go away. She was a reminder of a time she hated, when she let other people control her. It wasn't something she wanted to relive. Ghosts had minds, and that was how you could bring someone back temporarily. Telepathy was an easy way in, and this ghost appeared to have a one track mind, even as he suddenly raced forward with supernatural speed. Yennefer locked eyes with him, and as soon as she connected, the floating bag of see-through flesh stopped. She tilted her head one way, it mimicked her. The other way, it did the same. Good. She had it locked. "Leave this place," she commanded. Her hand reached into its chest and she sent out a powerful blast wave, dispersing the ghost and its particles in every direction. It howled in pain and faded as soon as the last bit of light from its spirit was gone. Yennefer's nose was bleeding. There were so many ghosts that had been trapped in the second and third floors that even Thomas, who’d been trapped with them all of this time, didn’t know them all. Some were small and frightened, even as spectres. Others were more bold and pervasive, taking up as much space as they could. Many of them disintegrated into the world they’d formed behind those walls, becoming little more than waves of energy. And then there were the ones desperate to cause pain and horror. And if they couldn’t cause that horror on the living then they would do so on the dead. Thomas tried not to blame any of them for being the way they were. It was life that made them that way. Life and all of its tragedies. And he didn’t have room to speak. He may have been more level headed than some, but that didn’t make him better than them. And it didn’t make him less horrible. Thomas had committed terrible crimes in his life. And no amount of kindness bestowed upon others in death would make up for that. When the ghost appeared his reaction was to do something. But Thomas hadn’t really experimented with his abilities outside of the warded floors. He wasn’t certain what he could do. If he could do anything. Granted, he had an inkling that he had some powers. He was almost certain he could possess the living. And he could probably attack his own kind. But whether he would survive either ordeal, well, that was another question entirely. And Thomas was still selfish. He wanted to help. But he didn’t want to be destroyed. Not without resolving some of his own unfinished business. Is it even possible for you to resolve it? he asked himself. He didn’t know. And despite his years (perhaps centuries) of time to think about it, he hadn’t really given it much concern. He thought he’d be trapped forever. No, this was Yennefer’s moment. Let her see what she was capable of. At least then they’d have more information. So, Thomas stood back, offering his own Yennefer the comfort of a steadying hand, while the living Yennefer fought the burned spirit. He didn’t expect to feel a pang of guilt after she succeeded. Shame for having done nothing to help. And fear. Because if Yennefer could do that to one of them, then perhaps she could do that to any of them. And conversations between walls didn’t necessarily make one friends. “That may not be enough to use against the stronger spirits. You’ll need someone else to assist you. Perhaps someone who can help strengthen your magic.” Thomas paused. “Or someone who can distract with their own magic while you cast your spells.” She'd felt the ghost's anger and rage and blind hatred. Of who? The people he thought were below him. He'd been pushed to his death into a furnace during a protest by hundreds of men who were scarred and angry. Get back to work, he'd screamed at them to no avail. Clearly he was a foreman of some sort, and Yennefer felt very little sympathy for him. If you treated people so poorly that they wanted to throw you into a furnace alive perhaps you deserved what was coming to you. She swiped her nose with the sleeve of her hand. Yes, she was going to need help. From someone who wouldn't want to raze the entire Green for the balance she'd need for this. Someone who could be a battery, however temporary, maybe. Or someone who could boost her power while using their own spells. "I have a few people in mind," she answered hollowly. She didn't like relying on others, but she could work with a team. She had in Sodden Hill, and maybe if she had been below with the others instead of watching from above, they might not have been in such bad shape. "Get me that list," she instructed before turning and walking down the corridor. She needed to prepare and bottle as much chaos as she could before she set out to destroy the damn things, and Aretuza help the person who unleashed this evil on Derleth. |