Dead Again

[Morgan Lake] Morgen's dreamscape has been somehow both more muddled and clearer of late - there were the dreams about her dad, and of calling him but not being heard, of him trying to reach her but drifting ever further away, that sort of thing, as is to be expected after running into someone she's not supposed to see for fear of running into the Technocracy's arms (again). There are the sexier dreams of Austin, or sometimes of faceless people just filling a role; she's eighteen years old, after all, and a modern girl. She might be a virgin, but she's hardly an innocent.

Tonight, though, it's nothing special - just a dream, malleable, mutable, incomprehensible. There's a lawyer and a judge, jury, but who's doing the arguing changes by the moment, and Morgan's just there, watching and listening, thinking. In this, she's an observer and for the moment? She's not a particularly interested one. It's to be expected, perhaps, when she focuses, reaches out for Autumn --

-- when she calls him to her, intentionally, for the first time.

[Autumn] Lights begin to flicker...even waver like candles in the wind. Darkness pans and expands, pulsing at first. The more she thinks of Autumn, the further the bubble of darkness expands...until oblivion. There's nothing...silence. Slowly though, candles flicker to life. The field of heat and light encompass the flame. Slowly, it resembles a menagerie of candles lit and offering guidance in the dark almost reminiscent of the ancient cathedrals were only a candle wick would guide a pilgrim's way.

Sitting amongst this circle of flame and luminescence was the lanky figure of Autumn...hair and face lacking the emo-esque look that had defined him the first time they had met. He sat with a simple acoustic guitar, playing a familiar tune to it as he sang, the voice more powerful in death then it had been in life. It was a mesmerizing octave that didn't need powers to draw others in...it was beautiful in its own right. And right now, it was just a private concert in her mind.

~she was the girl with the broadest shoulders
But she would die before i crawled over them
she is taller than i am
she knew i wouldn't mind the view there
or the altitude with a mouth full of air
she let me down and doubt came out until the now became later...~

[Morgan Lake] "You sing amazingly, you know. Jason Mraz, isn't it?" That's murmured quietly, under and through his song as she comes to sit next to him, comfortable in her dream. This one, she doesn't know well enough to sing along with him, but it's still there, the appreciation. She's not an artist, not this way; her art is in the spin of words (of facts), the ability to remain an impartial judge.

"If you'd kept it up without all the crazy deals and whatever, I bet you could have gotten somewhere. It pisses me off."

There's vehemence there, startlingly so - but she's a girl who's killed, who has blood on her hands.

"That it's all wasted, I mean."

[Autumn] Autumn pauses, fingers rested on the string but he bows his head slightly.

"...at least you get to still here it."

He looked up giving a soft smile before letting the guitar slide down to rest on his leg. He reaches over, nudging her shoulder, almost playfully.

"...you called me this time. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

[Morgan Lake] "Not . . . exactly. Not really. I don't know." She shrugs, leans back with a quiet little half-smile, thoughtful. "I failed at something - didn't try hard enough, not really. Didn't want it enough, I guess. And it's nice to have someone around my age to talk to every once in a while, even if you are a ghost, or a dream, or whatever."

There's a pause then, and she continues. "I . . . did you put some kind of mark on me somehow? Or . . . I don't know. I can do things that I couldn't before. Even when I'm awake." Which is notably different than Awake - but he's in her head. Or . . . something. Maybe he knows a bit about that, just by exposure.

[Autumn] Autumn glanced to her and gave a slight smile.

"I told you...if you needed help...I'd try to be there. Even if you're awake. But...if you don't want the help..."

He lets the intent hang in the air as his fingers rested over the strings now of the guitar, almost like holding the top of a cane as he leaned the bow back against his legs.

"...and I'm sorry to hear you failed. Maybe you just weren't ready yet. You thought you were but when it came time...you came up short. It happens."

[Morgan Lake] "Not to me, it doesn't," she answers the last, fierce. "I've never failed anything in my life, until now. Wasn't the best, sure - I've forgotten everything I ever knew about violin and was buried in second part anyway, same with choir, I only made in art club because the director let me manage the shows, it's true, but still . . ."

She shrugs, let the irritation with herself fade out (mostly); she's not a girl who's used to having to repeat herself. The worst grade she's ever gotten was a B.

"Anyway, you did say that. I guess I . . . just didn't expect it to be like that. How are you doing it? I mean, you're . . ." She pauses, then shrugs - he's dead, and in her dream. It's not the same thing as talking to some other unAwakened someone-or-other. ". . . you weren't Awakened, were you? I mean, you were a good singer, obviously, but normal other than that?"

[Autumn] "Other then the contract I made, yeah, I was 'normal'. As normal as anyone I guess other then the whole narcissistic idea that I didn't belong, that no one understood me...no one cared beyond a Facebook status."

His lips pursed slightly before the blue eyes turned to gaze at her.

"I think that's why I'm still here too. You did connect...for a moment....but it was more than anyone else had done."

He rubbed the side of his own face for a moment.

"...Awakened though...that's..one of the terms you use? Those memories I sometimes feel. I keep getting images of Harry Potter for some reason."

[Morgan Lake] "In my psychology class - just a high school class, granted, but I have - had - access to the grad school library at U of C - that was one of the things we discussed. The disconnect that so many people feel now and whether it was because of the internet or in spite of it. Sure, you can talk to people all over the world, but it's not the same as," here, she reaches out and takes his free hand, "this. And even our parents didn't have the stuff we have that makes our lives both easier and harder. It was interesting, anyway."

She hasn't let his hand go - doesn't, in fact, unless he draws attention to the fact that she's holding it.

"Anyway, yeah, Awakened is one of the terms we use. It's way more complicated than Harry Potter, though - magic doesn't work just because, and it's not easy. The world doesn't always like being manipulated that way. So, you weren't Awakened, and . . . can ghosts even do magic? I'll have to ask someone . . . do you know how you're doing it? The marking, I mean. And helping me with Ars work."

[Autumn] Autumn glances down but he doesn't pull away or make mention of it. He just offers a slightly tired smile.

"...I guess that's it...part of the reason I did it. But its not all. I have never felt I belonged anywhere with anyone really. I tried to play the part. But the funny thing is...almost a cosmic joke or irony or something...is now that I'm dead...I'm comfortable right here. Like I was meant to be here..."

He wet his lips, sighing almost before he speaks.

"...its the contract. I think what I had...I can pass on...sort of. It does make things easier...it does help you. But...there is a price, Enid...there's something you have to be wary of..."

The eyes turn to stare at her, almost concern.

"...don't let it go to your head."

[Morgan Lake] ".....huh." The 'don't let it go to your head' warning is clearly coming too late; she's curious, and as a curious, inquisitive sort of girl who's come to this point, of course she's going to test her boundaries. Of course she's going to prod a new thing until she's learned all she can about it. "I guess I get the sticking around thing, if you really feel that way. But how do you pass on a contract? I mean, theoretically, I'd have to sign or somehow give something to indicate good faith. And I certainly didn't . . . not that I mind the superpowers. God, no. But there are loopholes and things, you know - though, Mr. Stick-up-his-ass says if I mess up his contracts when I'm doing Spirit work . . . no, that only confirms it, really. I gave him a sign of good faith."

The tired look hasn't gone missed, certainly - Enid's not the most empathic and sometimes tends toward the self absorbed (what willful young mage doesn't?), but in this case, it's kind of hard to miss.

"Does it take a lot of energy to come here, or something? What makes ghosts tired?"

[Autumn] "I'm...just here."

He pauses.

"I don't know how to say it. And I don't know how its really passed on. I just know you accepted it when you accessed the ability...when you wanted...needed help. I guess its like someone inking their finger and putting it on the contract. You don't have to read the terms to take the deal. That's the best I can figure. Mine, I sorta already knew from the get-go what I was getting into..on some level."

[Morgan Lake] "So, what were you getting into? You never gave me the details on that. Other than the not dying alone thing - that I got." It's good to know these things - if she's unwittingly signed a contract, she'll fulfill it as best as she can. There are no excuses, after all; she could just as easily have not accessed that strange new thing she was fairly certain she could.

Except no, not really.

"I should probably know this, given that I'm apparently into it now, too."

[Autumn] "Well...the power I had...to draw people in...to make them listen. That's about all that was given to me. And the thing that gave me the contract? Well...it was sort of like a dream. Except I knew I was dreaming....and I was sitting at a tea table across from a white rabbit. Except..well...it would be like what Tim Burton would do if he could cross Jack Skeleton and the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. It gave me the deal."

He shrugs.

"But I don't know what the payment was."

[Morgan Lake] "How did you call it? Or him, or whatever?"

[Autumn] "It found me."

He paused for a moment before he thinks.

"Imagine...that you have a hole somewhere. And nothing you try to put there fills you. I think it senses those holes...those needs and offers to fill them. And maybe the wish comes true...more then you want it too. Or maybe it works exactly like you wanted it to."

[Morgan Lake] "So what happens when the contract gets passed on to someone who doesn't have any holes? I mean . . . don't get me wrong, there are things I'm not happy about." Still, her hand is in his - now, she gives a light squeeze before letting go and brushing her hair behind her ears.

"I think that's probably the case with everyone. But there's nothing I'm so miserable about I'd sell my soul to fix it."

That's contemplated quietly, and thoughts brush over her dad, her mom and the uncles (and aunt), her best friend and first boyfriend . . . there's been a lot that she's lost, a lot that she'd be ecstatic to have back. But the nod she gives affirms what she said, as do the words that follow. "Yeah. Nothing worth that kind of deal."

[Autumn] "Well...if you don't have a hole...then maybe you'll be alright. But if you do have one...if there is somewhere in your heart...your mind...your soul...its there now."

Autumn paused a bit.

"...it could have been why you failed...if you weren't relying off just yourself."

[Morgan Lake] "No, I was. It was a test, and I don't cheat," she says firmly. "Never have, and never . . . no, I shouldn't say never. But I don't think I will - there has to be a code of ethics. And even aside from that, cheating takes the joy out of winning."

There's a shrug then, and, "So what happens if I try to call it, do you know? I want to see what it wants. Maybe I can negotiate some favorable terms or something."

[Autumn] "..I don't think that would be a wise idea."

Autumn grows pale, as if someone...or something had just danced on his grave...the eyes glanced around for a moment before he looked back to her.

"...there's one more thing..and its a big thing. When I first met it...it was no bigger then the sort of rabbit you would see in a pet store. But...I saw it one more time...a little before that night. It was as big as a kid...maybe 9 or 10 years old. And I think its still growing."

[Morgan Lake] "So it's feeding off of something, obviously. I really want to know what the price was, now - I mean, you were just a sleeper, so it's not like you were feeding it quintessence or anything. I'm going to guess that it's some kind of spirit, too, which means I'll have to hit up one of the libraries. I don't know much about spirit contracts."

She's musing, and clearly marking out possible veins of research into this, to see how she can (further) spin it to her advantage and so on. Eventually, she supposes, the best thing is probably to get rid of this white rabbit - it hardly does to have it preying on the weak, after all.

"Does it have other contracts out, too, that you know of? Maybe I could talk to other people who've dealt with it and see what they know."

[Autumn] Autumn closes his eyes...he's silent for a moment...and this his voice speaks...but its off sounding...the tone almost otherworldly as he speaks.

Down the rabbit hole
Down the rabbit hole
Tumbling and falling
All the while calling
For help that will not come

Down the rabbit hole
Down the rabbit hole
We all fell down
Some on our ass
Others on our crown

His face turns to her as he speaks the last stanza...the eyes are white...his pupils missing as if rolled back into his head.

There's no outside the hole
There's no surviving voice
We're all down here
We're all floating down here
And we're all...going to drown.

But there's no breath to take
No lungs to breathe
We're dead as dead can be
We're not coming back
We'll never be free....~

And then Autumn collapses...head clunking against the ground with a disturbing clunk as if he had cracked his skull in the motion.

[Morgan Lake] "Autumn!" It had been odd, watching him change as he recited the poem or song or whatever - down the rabbit hole, indeed - but watching him drop to the ground is something else entirely. Never mind that he's a ghost, that this is a dream, it's always bothersome to see this sort of thing happen. Particularly to someone that one sort of knows.

There's a second of hesitation (sure, she's taken first aid classes, is technically certified, but that doesn't mean she's ever had to use what she knows) before she drops to her knees next to the boy to check him over, to see if there's anything she can do for him. It's not a purely medical thing, this - even in her sleep, she knows the boy is dead.

[First things first! Per + Aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Autumn] ...she feels....something. For a moment, she can feel it behind her eyes...thrumming in her head...and then centering in one spot...the mark...the mark on her chest...it pulses...its warm. And she can see the mark on Autumn's hand...but its ghost white now rather then blue. His skin is pale...but there's no blood coming out though by all rights there should be. And he's...breathing..of sorts. Its shallow...low...like someone in a coma or barely having wind in their lungs. But the pallor he had moments before the attack...it was gone. He looked like he was really dead again...

..then the eyes opened...wraith blue...wisps of his pupils as he said only one thing...

"...don't let it...get to your head."

------

...Morgan felt light streaming on her face...and the burning rays of morning to indicate...she was with the land of the awake now.