spirit_cobra

*Unlike usual, Sorrow has managed to make himself appear more solid that usual. But heightened emotions can do that. His pale cheeks are stained in bloody tears, and his usual smile is gone. Even he cannot smile with what he's found.

The com is set up a few feet away, offering a good view of him kneeling near the beach. Its raining, reddish drops appearing to fall but vanishing before they land. In the sand in front of him is a long silver chain with a .45 bullet attached to the end. Last time he saw him, he was wearing this. He tries to touch it, but his fingers go through it. Curling his fingers against his hand, he looks to the com*

Yuu...I need to speak to you. I...need your help.

*As usual when he exerts himself to speak, there's a fair bit of crackling and static in the transmission. After being silent for so long, this is all he really has to say*

.................................I'm..............

.......sorry............

Like undoubtedly many others, the boy that will one day be the Sorrow finds himself wandering the halls. He's very lean, rather pale and almost sickly looking. His white-blond hair is short, but still messy and unkempt. His simple clothes are worn and dirty, like they probably belonged to a few other people before him.

There's a bit of fear in him, since he's not really sure what to make of the situation at present. All he knows is he is alone save for a very crudely made and well loved stuffed rabbit.

So on he wanders, looking for someone, hoping to find anyone that might chase away the creeping feelings of dread he has. He doesn't like to be alone. They're too loud when he's alone.

((OOC: Side note, yes, he's a LIVING child))

*The mansion is far too confining right now. He has to get out, get away, 'breathe' as it were. He needs space and something...more familiar to what he's become accustomed to. Thus the Sorrow makes his way into the forest, passing among the trees in the relative silence of the place.

At some point, he stops, head tilting downward slowly. His pale yellow eyes close, his sad smile looking more forced than usual. A bloody red tear falls down his cheek, dripping from his jaw only to vanish. All around him, there is the sound, the feel, and the appearance of ran, drops of blood falling all around him just as the tear on his face*

So sad...so many sorrows...So much to take in.

*He turns his gaze upward, the hood of his field jacket sliding back. He closes his eyes again, this time as though to enjoy the rain that isn't really there*

((OOC: You know you wanna go talk to that. Or if you'd rather, message him in some fashion))

When I was alive, I often wondered about the dead that I saw. I wondered who they were in life, what their lives were like. Often all I knew about them was how they died. Sometimes they lamented what they had lost, families, friends, some blamed themselves for their deaths, some screamed about the ones who had killed them, others were caught in unending agony.

More than that, I wondered about the ones that were true spirits, the ones that I spoke to, the ones who told gave me information...and the ones I took into myself. Their minds became my own, their thoughts and memories. I lived whole life times through them. I often wondered if it was better to know them or not. Knowing them, I felt their pain, and knew I could do nothing to ease it. If I were a wiser man, I wouldn't have taken it all so lightly. But I cannot change it now.

Since my own death, I've often pondered my existence as a spirit, disembodied as I am. In two years, I never slept, never ate, never did the things that were so natural in my life. I wonder now if I can sleep, and if so..can I still dream? Do the dead dream? If so, what of? Of life? Of peace? Pain? Their lives or deaths? Strange that even after so much time, the answer still eludes me. I suppose it matters very little in the end. Whether I sleep or dream is irrelevant now, as so many things are to me. Never the less, I still think, I still remember, and I can still learn things.

Maybe I can find it in myself to dream, as well.

*The video feed begins with nothing but static, hissing white noise. Finally it flickers and shows a hallway. Just a random hallway in the mansion. Its somewhat dim, what little light there is guttering and weakening as though it might go out at any moment.

Then, there's a breathy, barely there voice*

Come....Find me...Speak with me.

I'm waiting.

*The static begins again, coming and going. A shadow appears on the opposite wall, then the video cuts out*

[OOC: Forgive Sorrow, manifesting for a video can be somewhat strenuous. Anyway, you can find him or you can try to respond. Talk to the dead guy. Dooo eeet.]

*There are times when even the dead get restless. Having an eternity of nothing to look forward to tends to take a toll on the mind, and push one into seeking a way to while away the hours, even if they're only a blink of time in the grand scheme of things.

So it is with the Sorrow. Curiosity lead him to the library, and he has been there for quite some time. Luckily, the place is vast and expansive, seeming to stretch in every direction all at once and to constantly change around him. Not that he minds, of course. In a place this size, he could pass several lifetimes.

He is likely to be found simply roaming, perusing books from every time and place. Of course, now and again he can be found by a record player he happened across, listening to music from his home country (usually things from ballets). Approach him if you wish, he's not hostile in the least.*

There are times when we all feel a little down, times we need to sort out what’s in our head so that we can make sense of life. Sometimes we just need to talk to someone who won’t laugh at us for hearing things, seeing things…anything. Someone who will listen and smile placidly as though they’ve heard it all and not a thing in the world can phase them.

( Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Sorrow is in. )

*Hunger is something he hasn't felt in a very, VERY long time. Even in life, there came a time when trivial things such as food lost all meaning and interest to him. How can food matter when it's such a small, insignificant thing?

That's changed.

He wanders the mansion slowly, deliberately, his footfalls echoing strangely as though always in a very large, empty space. To look at him, he seems more solid than before, and he seems to have lost his ability to just move about at will. As he walks, he occasionally mutters to himself, adjusting his glasses.

And trying to reason out what to do about this crippling hunger that seems intent on consuming every second of his thoughts.*

OOC Note - Sorrow is a slightly simplified version of what's called a psychic vampire, or a vampire that drains your energy instead of your blood. He has to touch you to do it, but it's usually non-lethal. After effect will leave the victim dazed but otherwise unharmed. If it's cool to get in touch with the dead guy, say so please!

I had thought this would be purgatory. But it appears I have stumbled into something that is equally fabled and otherworldly. The voices here…they’re so strange to me. They aren’t screaming, not now at least. Whether that is a constant waits to be seen.

This place intrigues me. I believe I will stay for a time, or for as long as I am compelled to. It doesn’t seem to be the kind of place one can simply leave at will. But that is fine, it isn’t as though I have any pressing matters to attend. The dead’s business is their own.

Name: Sev
LJ:

dylpancakes
E-Mail: MysticNocturne77@aol.com
IM: MysticNocturne77

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