View source for 2023.08.04 We've got (a) spirit yes we do!

[[Category:Logs]] [[Category:Sark]] [[Category:Jess]] [[Category:Bygones]] [[Category:Wraith]]

{{Infobox Log
|name      = We've got (a) spirit yes we do!
|summary   = Sark catches a Wraith checking out his favorite coffee shop
|icdate    = August 4, 2023
|ictime    = Daytime
|players   = [[Sark]], [[Jess]]
|location  = Witches Brew, Front Room
|spheres   = Wraith, Changeling
}}

This, by far, one of Sark's favorite places to sit. Camped out in the window alcove, he has a huge mug of cinnamon tea and a half-destroyed blueberry muffin in front of him while he idly watches people coming and going on the street outside...and occassionally in here, though a little more cautiously so he doesnt get accused of creeping.

<WRAITH>  A lousy day. Not that the Shadowlands had good days. Or... days, really. In came Jess, the P.I. who never quit; wandering in more in search of a pit stop in a still-standing building than paying much attention to its skinlands counterpart and most likely walking right through something otherwise solid. Her face wrinkled at the whiff of old dead plants, but she took the moment of pause to focus her flickering corpus a little before striking up an ephemeral cigarette. A glance over the shoulder to make sure she was safe, and she visibly unwound a little, finally taking a moment to see what she'd just walked into.

Since she's so used to disregarding what the skinlands folks are doing, she might not notice how, even as she walked past outside, the young blond man lifted a brow and followed her, just staaaaaaring as she walked inside as he quickly came to the conclusion that Joe Schmoe standing next to her CANNOT see what he can see about her.

So Sark says nothing, and instead rests his head on his hands to watch her and look her form over. Clearly he hasnt seen THIS in a while, since he doesnt typically visit the underworld.

<WRAITH>  The detective's corpus regressed a little, inducing a sigh from the Wraith, who subsequently decided to fix it when she got home. "Occult." she offered, pinching the bridge of her nose in appreciation of the palpable irony. "If only... Yeah, if the Puppeteers don't chase me out like the Spooks did." she went on, shaking her head and browsing dusty tomes for a moment before surveying the local skinlings. "Not that it's worth the effort on..." she trailed off, eyes - though hidden behind opaque sunglasses - landing on the odd one out. The cigarette rolled around for a moment while she weighed up the scenario.

Does Sark look away? No. In fact, he raises one brow in curiosity when she actually looks at him, and caaaaasually tears off a piece of blueberry muffin to stuff into his mouth and chew. Rather deliberately, he turns his hand and lightly taps a space next to him with a finger, while leaving that brow raised, to see if the invitation gets telegraphed clearly enough.

<WRAITH>  A pause. The Wraith inhaled sharply and turned her head slightly, as if to begin talking to a travelling companion no longer present, then apparently thought better of it, accepting whatever theory was currently in her head. She approached; cautious, yes, but not afraid. Years of fending of spectres - not to mention already being dead - does something unspeakable to one's ability to feel fear. Although she wore the trappings of a detective, she carried herself more like a sheriff when her hackles were up. "Not human..." she commented analytically, "Not Risen, I'd know by now. Not a Vampire, it's too light out..." she mulled it over. "So either a Wizard or whatever who's doing weird shit - and they all are, so maybe; a friend of HArdy's, or... something new." she finished, hopeing a fair amount that it wasn't yet another new thing on the list.

Sark rumbles softly as he listens to the workings-out as to what he might be. Slowly he nods in agreement with the assessment as she works through it. No, not Risen. No, not a vampire. Then no, not a Wizard. Hardy's name is mentioned and he smirks a little, finally offering, "I know a Hardy, and I dont think I count as a friend of his. I dont think he HAS friends. Just inferiors he allows to hang around him." He pauses, then adds, "But I am, how best to say, in the same ballpark as Hardy. Things that myths and legends are told about, one can say?"

<WRAITH>  Equal parts relief and frustration flashed across the Wraith's face, though she finally found the comfort to glance at the seats and sit down in the one most likely to still take her weight. "Oh, I'm not the only one who thought he was weird, then." she nodded along, even briefly cracking a slight smile, "That said he wasn't exactly doing much of a job guarding the underworld or whatever his job was. Place is a shithole." she paused, reflecting on old memories. Reflecting perhaps more on the fact that she bothered to carry those memories with her. "Jess. Local... grassroots lawbringer, I suppose." came her impromptu introduction. "Also corpse extraordinaire, if you follow mortal headlines."

Sark hehs softly at her comment about Hardy, "When he left, I was in no hurry to try and meet him again. As far as I am concerned, good riddance. There is only room for his ego in the space he is in." When she introduces herself, he pauses for a moment to glance over, maybe just making sure there's noone within immediate earshot before he offers, "Sarkesian the Gilded. I think you might be the first person full of, aha, spirit, I've seen in a long time."

<WRAITH>  "Few and far between these days." Jess admitted in response to the scarcity of cognizent Wraiths, with a somber nod. "Any that don't get overwhelmed by Nihils usually pack up and head out to hide under the Hierarchy's skirt." she lamented, casting a glance outside as she mentioned nihils. She tapped away ash from her cigarette, not that it was getting shorter, and thought for a moment. "Maybe I should be gilded..." she mused briefly. "Must suck being a legend and having to hide it, huh. Even gotta watch what you say to us imaginary folk nobody can see."

Sark nods slowly, "Well, Im a kid to them so it really just looks like Im talking to my earpiece now instead of talking to myself." He winks at that, then slowly nods again, "And there is that. People get all scared and want to kill things they dont understand, so hiding becomes necessary, because while one of them doesnt pose a threat, a few million with nuclear weapons...do."

<WRAITH>  "Funny how many people I've met these last few years who were killed by what they didn't understand. Prospect isn't exactly full'a Mitties, though." Jess pondered aloud, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Thankfully, even if they figure out we're here, nukes don't particularly scare us. Well. Okay, I guess that's not entirely true, but semantics."

Sark rumbles a little as he thinks about that, then slowly nods, "You're right of course. Cant scare the dead by threatening to kill them again, after all." He pauses to drink some of his tea, then nods at it, "I would be polite and offer you some, but I suspect it doesnt do you any good. Anything equivalent I CAN offer you? I mean, you came to sit down and talk, I could at least be polite about it."

<WRAITH>  Jess waved off the notion. "I won't bore you with the details, but we don't really have, ah..." she considered her words briefly - not a topic that came up too often. "Bodily functions, like you know them. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix, assuming nobody blows up your house." she grinned a little, then paused for thought. "Oh, I guess a nuke going off -would- fuck up all my-" she stopped herself short. "My house." she went with instead.

Sark mmms, "At the very least, it wouldnt leave a whole lot over here to look around at, so I imagine that might make things pretty boring." Her dismissal of food or drink is allowed to drop for now while he munches on another piece of blueberry muffin and swallows, "I havee loads and loads of questions, but Im sure you have rules that say you can't answer them. Probably?"

<WRAITH>  Jess opened her muth to answer, but paused as conflicting answers came to mind simultaneously. "I-... well, yes, but no." she broke a chuckle through her usual nonplussed countenance. "The Dictum Mortuum isn't to be fucked with. But, well, firstly, I don't really give a shit. Also, if the Hierarchy knew even half of my crimes I'd be up for a lot of torture followed by being thrown headlong into the Tempest to be torn apart by oblivion itself." she nodded confidently, without a hint of embellishment. "Also, you're obviously not mortal, and the good old DM doesn't say anything about interacting with the embodiments of legends. So yes... but, no."

Sark tilts his head and looks thoughtful at that, "Now THATS an interesting response. Because I thrive on information and knowledge. I will happily trade information for information, should you be willing to be forthcoming, and I will blatantly admit, others like you are one of the groups I know damned near nothing about. Just the few things you've mentioned already are all terms I've never heard of before."

<WRAITH>  Jess perked up a little at the idea of trading off. "I do dabble in information commerce from time to time." she offered with a sly grin. "I have to keep certain... trade secrets, I'm afraid, but other than that, I've long been left curious about what exactly legends are made of."

Sark smiles and nods, "Understandable. I wouldnt expect you to tell me how to actually destroy you, for example, nor would I be very forthcoming about any Achilles' Heel I might have, so I imagine that's a fair trade. I also imagine it would be a huge benefit to have a friend that can watch everything but that noone else can see, so I hope you'll let me know if there's something I can provide on this side of the wall that would sweeten the deal."

<WRAITH>  "I will say, the more you try to destroy a Wraith, unless you really know what you're doing, you're probably going to turn them... feral. And feral manifestations of emotion with no remaining drive but to have their revenge... well, you might imagine that they're a very bad thing." Jess explained cautionarily. Not a threat, just a warning. "On the other hand, if you want to earn a Puppeteer's trust-" she began, gesturing vaguely to herself, "You find them a warm body for joyrides."

Sark stifles a small smirk at the last comment and regains his composure, murmuring, "Joyrides. Okay, yes, I guess that is an accurate way of putting it. I'm assuming others like you try to keep the ones that are out of control from, well, going out of control? I mean, otherwise there would be news articles all the time about spectrall crap going on. I mean, more than the Weekly World News reports, that is."

<WRAITH>  Jess shrugged. "Hard to keep perspective when you -are- the spectral crap, but I suppose. As long as they're not driven to it by skinlings - that's a catch-all for you lovely skin-having folk - they probably won't make themselves obvious. Most of them just wanna... I dunno. They're not forthcoming. Worshiping oblivion I guess is their main thing."

Sark hmmms, "Worshipping Oblivion? Well, I suppose that's an outlook to have, but..." He finally rolls a shoulder and shakes his head, "So is everyone destined to become like you are, or do others move on to other places and states? You said something about being torn apart by the Tempest?"

<WRAITH>  "Ugh... the tempest is... well, understand that the Shadowlands are not your average three-dimensional space. While the average shadowlands exists above, through and without Oblivion, there are several pseudo-demiplanes between the various layers. The Shadowlands is generally what intersects with the Skinlands, which is the 'highest' plane of reality." Jess explained, complete with air quotes, "OBlivion is kinda like this black hole and it's the 'lowest' I guess? If you fall into Oblivion, you've been erased from existence. No more waking up the next day and shaking it off. Oblivion is ensconced by the Labyrinth, which is... well, it's a labyrinth, which sits at the depths of the Tempest, which is where the Shadowlands overlaps with the Skinlands' ocean. However, due to the non-euclidean nature of the Shadowlands, the tempest is also visible from styggia, which doesn't have a Skinlands counterpart. If you can cross the tempest without ever existing within it it's said you can reach the Far Shore, which nobody's ever done. There're folks who specialise in navigating within the tempest, but it's suicidal at best. Usually you'll end up in the labyrinth and the monsters get you." she rattled off. "Basically," she then surmised, "it's a load of metaphysics that a skinling brain isn't gonna understand too well."

Sark chuckles softly as he listens and lifts one finger when she's close to done, "No wonder none of the others never told me about it, it sounds like you lose a little of your sanity understanding the whole thing. And I accuse these people of being simple." He pauses to take another drink of his tea, processing that for a long moment, "Okay, okay, I've grilled you enough for one evening, and Im being rude. What would you like to know about, well, us?"

<WRAITH>  Jess mulled it over a moment, glancing down at her corpus. "Now now, I can't ask you to tell all while you have secrecy to maintain." she chuckled softly, standing. "We'll meet again, and I'll have the energy to take us somewhere more private." she nodded, dousing her cigarette and stashing it. "Well, as long as you're not opposed to a little mind piracy, anyway."

Sark laughs at the comment and nods slowly, "Certainly. We can discuss the details when I see you again. I'll...keep an eye open for you and assume if you flag me down, its okay to talk. Fair enough?" He pops the last of his muffin into his mouth, assuming she's probably on her way out.