A Presence Seeks a Home [closed except to mods]

[snarkpit]

Far out away from the cities in the spiritually rich land of Muhir where the spirits good and evil can be felt through the various planes of existence, its an exceptionally stormy night. Every bolt of lightning jolts any being present further and further away from trite notions of reality. Truly, the walls of the physical world are meaningless here, on this night, with no geomancers to hold them up, residual holy magic long dissipated by the electricity in the air. Surely, the evil deities can't be far from the surface here.

Eerily low in the sky, as if beneath the stormy clouds themselves hang two red star-like balls of gas paired together like glairing eyes. Conscious perhaps, but if so much more slight then the rest of the spirits inhabiting this scene. And somehow different. As if from much further away

[animosity!]

A young lady awakens with a fright. She straightenes up in her bed, attempts to calm her breathing but finds herself severely distracted by a single thought. To call it a thought it beyond an understatement. She felt an undeniable desirean obligation practically to relieve herself from her night's rest and offer herself to the night. This was a new and common recurring event in the young necromancer's schedule, often brushed off as a mild subconcious fancy, but tonightTonight was the final stab by her instincts to push her to do what only she could, and they had succeeded.


Posthaste, Rusia climbed from her bed and replaced her flowing night gown with olive green cargo shorts, a large, beige, wool, cableknit turtleneck sweater, and hiking boots. She was prepared for a journey tonight. She knew where and at the same time not at all. It was as if her transformation had permanently placed radar into her grey matter that could lead her to the spirits as they called for ressurection. This night. This horrible, overcast night the urge to dabble in the dark arts was particularly Something had a tight hold on Rusia's will and she worried that she could not fulfil its wishesnonetheless it held confidence in her and refused to let go as she dressed herself and prepared her bag.



The bag in question was that of any teen female. An obnoxious shade of bright purple. Patches and stickers of rainbows and confetti vomit inhabited it's exterior, and even a small group of character keychains hung from the zipper.It was quite the conspicuous baghowever on the insides, the true avocations of the child would be brought to light. A black robe lay at the bottom of the back, folded immaculately and on top of it, several accessories to necromancy filled the interior. Trinkets, herbs, two small daggers, and chalk necessary for a circle aomg other things. This wasn't the common schoolbag. And well, Rusia wasn't the common school girl.


After what felt like an eternity, the girl finally exited her quarters. She was close, having shacked up in the small farmhouse just outside of Muhir that belonged to a kinder old gentleman after he discovered her in the graveyard nights ago, fainted and newly scarred with the unrecognizable markings that now plagued her not just her hip, the the entirity of her right side. It was as if a new symbol formed daily. Little did Rusia know, however, that these would greatly aid her in her necromancy conquests soon enough. First foot to the moist earth, and Rusia launched herself off into the night with increasing speed. The wind wrapped around her in a way that only she could feel, light illuminating from itfrom the unrested souls held within it. Close together thuds against the ground were made by her heavy boots as she ran to her destination. She closed her eyes. With the entity taking hold of her will, she had no need for vision. Where it wanted to be free, it would lead her.


Finally Rusia opened her eyes, and to her knowledgeas she scanned the perimeters, she was somewhere far north of Muhir, perhaps in the forest that seperated it from its kinder sister city. The heavily vegitated installment of land was feared to be uncommonly populated by spirits, most unfriendly. But Rusia found herself in a clearing, a near perfect circle of nothing but short grass. She raised her head to the sky and hovering above her, illuminating the night, was the pair of gaseous matter. She offered a small smirk towards the heavens, nodded and proceeded to pull her supplies from the bag. The robe was pulled first and placed on carefully. Almost immediately following, Rusia could feel the uneasy whispers of the dead at her presence. Nevermind, she thought. This was an important task. ONe not to be disrubted by the spirit of the village drunkard or child of a nameless mother. However, Rusia was cautious and pulled next from the bag the chalky substance along with a small silver cross necklace, which she quickly hung around her neck. A cirle was made, in the most basic sense and Rusia pulled herself and the bag to the middle of it. Out next was the dagger, with which the girl used to puncture her wrist, having no sustancial sacrifice, and pull blood from to drop at her feet.


Finally Rusia closed her eyes, looked to the sky and raised her arms only slightly so that her tiny palms were facing the orbs and welcoming their presence. She would be the guide to the living for this spirit. She only hoped that her skills were strong enough for its even sounder being. "من به شما التماس کردن به ، روح هیچ عرصه مرحوم برای پاسخ به خواسته های من است که من مطرح نزد شما ، تا شما را همیشه برای بقیه آنهایی که امیدوار مقدس و سهولت تمام بدبختی ؛ توسط خون عیسی مسیح که او برای روح ریختن ، من شما را و التماس کردن به مجموعه شما رایگان برای قدم زدن در این زمین یک بار دیگر. زندگی." ("I conjure you, spirit of no realm. deceased to answer my demands that I propound unto you, as you ever hoped for the rest of the holy ones and ease of all the misery; by the blood of Jesus which he shed for the soul, I conjure you and set you free to walk this earth once more. Living.") With the last of her words burning ensued in her new markings and she let out a shriek of pain and terror as red glwing light took hold oher her body once more, and as if someone unseen was carving them into her skin, several new markings were becomming visible on her side. She fell to the ground, motionless. The pain from the wounds had once more caused her to faintand in such a vunerable position. All one could do now, is only pray that her resurrection had succeeded without bring forth more spirits than intended.

[snarkpit]

Cosmos, blackness, light, swirls of thought, the soul of Gorchovnik Dresdnar drifted through galaxies, dimensions, universes, even realities randomly at a rate incomprehensible by time. He was resting in eternal peace long after his final breath. Still the focus of this once young man had done something incredible. It had carried an awakened consciousness into this post departure state of being like a state of lucid dreaming. Without a brain and incapable of higher reasoning or observation, he was just an awareness of the soul, and a desire to breathe once more

Black skies, the stirring of souls, lightning, Gorchovnik's conscious focuses on this place on this night. Unique and unlike the rest of the infinite expanse he'd already traveled, there was traction here. Swirls of other places would pass by, and he'd be focused here yet again. And what's more through those two red balls of gas, a spiritual tear in the fabric of reality, Gorchovnik's soul was somehow granted physical sight.

And what does he see but the beautiful young girl performing something strange. Focusing on her, the image becomes clearer, more focused, brighter. And then sound. For the first time in what can only be described as an eternity, Gorchovnik had the senses of a mortal.

As the red balls of gas left their mark on the young woman, the sky began to glow red. The sky literally filled entirely with lightning, the roar becoming nearly unbearable. Through the winds a voice can be heard howling with an orgasmic overwhelmed cry of pain, pleasure, lust, hate, and every imaginable sensation coming into focus at the full force of a soul at once

"I AM ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!"

One bolt of lightning strikes the ground at the site of Rusia's deed lighting a smoking form. The swirls of smoke become more and more dense, taking the shape of a man. The lightning strikes again. The smoke becomes carbon, the shape becomes man.

And their lays Gorchovnik, born into this world not through flesh, but of magic. Still as naked as anyone entering the world, a now only slightly translucent Gorchovnik howls in pain. His long overgrown fingernails scratch at his form ripping open his new found flesh as if to prove its there. His wilted looking malnourished body begins to wrythe as if seizing. He cries. He vomits. He contorts so hard his body is flung feet into the air all the while screaming. "I AM ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!"

[animosity!]

Dare Rusia awaken from her tortured slumber? Dare she look upon the creation she fostered so delicately, bringing life from the shadows and otherworldly beings into the realm from which she resided?

The man's shrieks of pleasure were faded to Rusia. A blur of sound, of color, and of light. She pulled herself up to a lean, an arm extended with palm flat on the ground to support the weight of her torso. Her hair moved with the wind as her head fell slowly from side to side. She stirred. Temporary amnesia had taken over, as it commonly did after the ruins etched into her body populated her skin once more. Her eyes remained rolled to the back of her head as eyelids seperated and caught necromantic sight of her new companion. Now mortal, the creature was merely an outline through the dead raiser's eyes. This sent her to the overjoyous conclusion, that she, for the first time had succeeded in bring back life. However she was weak, no doubtedly due to the amount of self sacrifice it took on her part to call above the souls and mesh them with the matter of human flesh. Her eyes now found their right place underneath the lids, and she blinked, refocusing. The outline had become a human form, nude and shivering against the chill breeze. That was new to her and something she would make note of tonight, always carry extra clothing.

She pushed off on her palm and with inpecable balnce was up on her feet once more, and undoing the robes, letting it fall into her arms as she analyzed the man. She was sure she had summonewd a mere rested soul judging by the two perfectly cirular markings now inhabiting her skin as a constant reminder of her deeds. Once the strength had returned to Rusia's feeble legs, she stepped foward and threw the black garments over then man in an attempt to cover him up. What would he make of his new found body? She had a decent ideajudging by the blurred barely audible shrieks she heard from him previously. Only time could tell what he would in fact do.


Rusia stayed reluctantly in the circle. Even if she had pulled the proper body from it's purgatory, who was to say that it was not of evil intentions? She certainly hadn't known nor had she been around any others of her kind to tell her the wiser. And so she sat, and extended the arm closest to the ground out so that she could rest her cheek against palm. Elbow digging into the earth as she examined the screaming, flying man. She smiled reluctantly. And then fullfledged. However hard she fought the urge, all there was to do for her was smile pridefully. She, the nameless, runaway school girl had risen the dead from its slumber, and for that, she was proud.

[snarkpit]

The night, just as stormy and possessed as before, seems almost calm now. The electrical violence of the sky as well as the presence of spirits now seem like background noise after a climax.

Gorchovnik's convulsing turns to shivers, and his clawing hands turn to clinched fists. His entire body comes to a tense flexed stand still beneath the robe thrown over him. His howl has turned to focused breathing through new nostrils, and his gaze, glowing bright red, focuses on the young woman.

His glare hardens further while the rest of his body begins to relax. With a grunt and a determined swallow, he speaks in a low raspy voice "Where? What.. world. What business do you have with me?" With that he clamps his mouth shut and scowls harder, eyebrows lowered in pure focus. Sitting up to his knees, the cloak falls to his lap, and he determinedly peers about his new environment taking it all in waiting for an answer.

[animosity!]

As the figure spoke, Rusia jumped to her feet. Her body grew rigid. She was no longer aware if it had been fear, excitement, or nervousness taking over her emotional sphere but she did know that this being. Living. Breathing. Moving about, even if in a convulsive manner. And Speaking. Of all things, he spoke. So clearly, a perfect mesh of letters forming words, and vocal chords pushing forth sounds in rhythm. She took in the quiet words and became drunk on his questioning. A large smile played on the young girl's face. She was overwrought with the success of her first raising. He was perfect. Although much older than she, she looked at the man as if she were looking at a new born child, pushed out of her very own loins, and introduced into the world fresh and anew.

Once his words had sunk in, her eyebrows stitched together in contemplation. Where exactly were they. It was he that called upon her skill, wasn't it? Or perhaps something greater than the both of them had linked their souls in a pact of mitigation. She spoke softly to the man. Cautious still to not let her feet pass the chalk made circle, she leaned to him. " You are somewhere in the woods of Eternus. East of Aeliyr. I believe---I know you were the one who called upon me. Were you not? Did you not beckon me to bring you to resurrected being?
She titled her head in confusion. " I have nothing. No business with you good sir, only my inability to control my instincts has brought you to life. Think me not as someone you owe, but as a irrepressible, ignorant child."

[snarkpit]

Gorchovnik quirks a focused brow and nods, bending forward to all fours struggling to get to his feet. Slowly and with much labor, he manages to stand, knees bowing and re balancing as he struggles to take command of his new nervous system.

Deliberately and unmodestly, he takes his time draping the cloak over his shoulders, not bothering to fasten it. His gaze steadily wanders his surroundings before focusing on the girl.

Through labored breathing, he mutters. "Mmm." Taking a deep swallow, "I merely found an opening I suppose. It was a matter of time, perhaps I willed this place into existance. None to bright of a girl I wouldn't suppose. Could you tell me the.." Gorchovnik bites his lip, contemplating, trying to think of the appropriate question to get his bearings. Was this the same Earth he'd left of a different generation? Or was he somewhere in the vast cosmos. "Continents. What are the continents of this place, girl?"

[animosity!]

Rusia snorted and rolled her eyes at her so quickly arrogant creation. She grabbed the robe's rope, stepped from the circle and leaned to one foot, the other extended behind her in a fashion to help her balance. Arms extended out towards the man and snatched up the middle hems of the robes, pulled them tightly together, and took the rope, slung it around his waist and knotted it against his stomach before he even had a chance to protest. She then stood facing him, hands on her hips in a disparaging manner.

"Now that you're properly clothed-- and concealed, " She cleared her throat at this. " I am politely refusing to answer your questions. You found the opening, and feebleminded little ole me couldn't know the geography of the realm in which she lives. That's just too much of a labor for my inadequate mind, isn't it?" She folded her arms tightly across her chest and raised an eyebrow at the man. An awfully sarcastic, sensitive child she was. And Gorchovnik was about to face the wrath of her feeling degraded.

" Now that you are here, I suppose you won't be needing me now will you?" She turned and snatched her bag, leaving him with only her robes. She walked slowly away from the figure. Deep down she wanted to hug him. He was her first raising, she wanted to know every little detail of his life. However, for the dramatic affect, she would still walk away, pretending to be hurt. All he had to do for her plan to work was follow.

[snarkpit]

Gorchovnik's focus had yet again turned to surveying his surroundings before Kartrusia made her move to provide him the modesty he hadn't even so much as contemplated. Only now does the severity of the storminess and the spiritual nature of this place start to sink in over the drama of his own reincarnation. Distracted by it, he barely noticed until the young woman's words caught his ear.

He shakes his head a bit, zoning back into to the two of them, and pauses trying to mentally catch back up. He looks down to notice the now closed state of the cloak and cracks a smile, muttering "Nudity, huh." to himself. His voice smoothens out and raises in pitch just slightly, attempting a sense of charm he'd yet to even consider. "Don't be hasty, girl."

He goes to take a step towards her, but immediately stumbles and falls to all fours. Keeping his forward momentum, he manages to get back to his feet without completely falling. "No doubt, I'm indebted to both you and your competence. And I most certainly need your assistance. Believe me, nothing is free, and I can make myself useful to you." Catching up he reaches to put one of his long-nailed gnarled hands on her shoulder as a gesture of friendship and smiles warmly.

[animosity!]

The rustling of grass against skin and the hollow thuds of his body hitting the earth and stumbling back up caught the girl's attention once more. She twisted her torso his way, only to look back at him with a smirk. " Hrmph. " Rusia knew he would break quickly. She's hoped for it at least. How could the being not. He was hopeless. Rusia was as well.. young, vunerable. Sheltered. But, the man didnt need to know all of that just yet. She turned her bottom half so that she completely faced Gorchovnik, and exhaled through her nose in an agitated, sort of cute sigh.

She proceeded to walk towards him, offering her hand to him to help. " Youre no indebted to me sir, just.. I will help you as much as I can. You.. were the first for me. I can't say I know the ediquette for raising the long rested.We can help each other though. I'm Rusia. "

[snarkpit]

Gorchovnik grabs Rusia's outstretched hand as he catches his balance, and places his other on her shoulder with a smile. "Seems this is a new process for the both of us. Don't suppose it happens every day, even in this place. And I definitely don't suppose the terms Europe or Asia are at all common here. No need to fret, I'm a man that can make things happen. I should say, I suppose, I'm a being that can. Whatever form I am, I'll always be that, and here I am. So tell me of this place. Allow me to adapt." Gorchov lets go of her hand, leaving his other placed on her shoulder, and turns himself to face the same direction as her. Looking up to the stormy heavens with a sigh, "For now, you can call me Shadow I suppose. As relevant of a name as any. Fates partnered us for not it seems, lets help each other."