of the months
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Posted: Jun 9 2017, 12:34 PM
"best protect your neck"
Was it really acting out if the only person privy to his actions was himself? Hayley pondered the question as he pulled his supplies from his bag, settled comfortably in the empty classroom that he usually hid out in when it was time for him to start messing around with forces beyond his control, yet again.
He would probably regret this at some point. Wasn’t that what Mariposa always told him? That anything that wanted to speak to him would do it wihtout the use of the board?
Still, he sat quietly, flipping his planchette over and over in his hands. It had been a rough couple of months. Hadleigh had been in France for months with Mémé, and had been virtually incommunicado the whole time. While Hayley might not have always liked his big brother, it just wasn’t the same without all nine of the Dowling ennead running around Hogwarts. When you broke them down into their family units, it just didn’t feel right that they were only two instead of three, their brother off fulfilling some sort of duty to the family, whatever that meant.
As for Hensley? Well it was like she wasn’t even there. He might not have been an empath, but he didn’t need to be to know that his sister was emotionally unwell. Hayley was sure that it was something to do with her sobriety, and with her breakup with Walter, and just how heavy everything seemed. The younger of the twins knew that if she wanted to speak to him about it, she would, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t hardly spoken to him at all.
With both of his siblings consumed in their own lives and unable to be reached, he could feel the need to act out coming, and was trying to contain it as best he could.
The truth was, he hadn’t had anything come through his board yet. Most of the time, it was Mariposa, jumping into his planchette and making it dance around the board, spelling out things like….
Y-O-U R-E-A-L-L-Y S-M-E-L-L L-I-K-E D-O-G B-U-N-S
… Or the more frequent….
H-A-Y-L-E-Y Y-O-U-R-E B-E-I-N-G S-T-U-P-I-D S-T-O-P P-L-A-Y-I-N-G W-I-T-H S-P-I-R-I-T B-O-A-R-D-S
… and really, he didn’t think that anything would come of it, even if he was in as bad a headspace as he was for the moment. He set the planchette on the edge of the board.
A chill ran through him as he felt fingers passing through the back of his neck. He turned, finding his long-drowned friend standing there with a stern, disapproving look on her face. “You never let me have any fun,” Hayley remarked, reaching up to rub where she had put her hand through his neck. His hand came away smelling like violets, something he could never get used to.
Posted: Jul 3 2017, 09:15 PM
"made of glass"
For as long as Mariposa could remember, the living have been obsessed with the dead. Even when she'd been one of those crazy people with a body, she'd been fascinated by the concept of life after death. She'd dated a ghost. She'd studied ghosts. Most people she knew were always so interested to talk to her - not to get to know her or who she was - but to ask her about being a ghost. Fifty years ago she would have been offended by the fact that she was reduced to some spectre of the week for these people, but after half a century, she supposed the was used to it. Of course, there were always a few people every couple of years that actually became a friend to her. She would enjoy talking to them for a few years but invariable, they'd always end up finishing school and she'd never see them again.
Hayley Dowling was one of those students. She didn't know if she'd see him again when he was done with his education, but he was her absolute favorite out of the people who'd ever bother getting to know her - Josh aside, of course. Hayley was one of those people who was obsessed with the dead, constantly playing around with a ouija board and a planchette. Mari hated when he did that.
The problem with the living being obsessed with the dead is that sometimes the dead were obsessed with the living.
Using a ouija board, trying to contact spirits - it was all a bad idea to the ghostly girl. Her snake friend lived in a world where it was impossibly easy to talk to all the ghosts he wanted - and most of them were happy to talk to him. The ones who weren't so easy, so willing to talk to him, well... those were the ones he needed to stay away from the most. As a ghost, she was more in tune with the spirit world than any living person could hope to be and she knew full well what other nightmares lurked invisible in the shadows, looking for any victim that they could find. Trying to contact these evil things - that was just asking to become a victim.
That was why she always tried to interfere with her friend whenever she caught him being a little too friendly with the spirit world. By possessing and moving the planchette, she was able to cut-off whatever conversation he was sending out into the world and preventing whoever might hear it from answering. This time, she snuck up from behind, passing a ghostly hand across his neck in an attempt to distract him.
"Hayley Aquila Dowling," she started as she floated around to face him, using his full name for emphasis, "how many times must I tell you to stay away from things like this?" She wished for a moment that she'd died in a fire so she could conjure flames at will and burn the awful thing in front of her, but somehow she didn't think it would help their friendship much. "You may think you're just having fun, but what you're really doing is grabbing a bullhorn and calling all the spirits in the world to come bother you. I'm helping you, you know?" She shook her head in disapproval at him. "I'm worried about you. Let me worry. I'm old enough to be your grandmother, and grandmothers worry."