She Wakes With A Start To The Sound Of Glass Shattering, Quickly Sitting Up In Bed And Looking Around

she wakes with a start to the sound of glass shattering, quickly sitting up in bed and looking around for simon. he wasn't next to her but the light in the bathroom down the hall was on. was he hurt? is he okay? she pulls on her robe and heads toward the bathroom, seeing that eerily familiar look on his face. her heart sinks. the first time agatha had seen him in this state, she'd run to get johnny, but johnny wasn't here right now.

" si— " no, no no, no. the name had begun to leave her lips but she abruptly stops herself. she's seen the aftermath of saying his name when he was in this state. agatha quickly corrects herself. " ghost? " she calls softly, holding her hands out toward him but not touching him. " ghost, i-it's just me. it's agatha. it's okay, you're okay. i-i'm right here, okay? "

   his  body  always  wakes  him  up  at  ungodly  hours  in  the  morning  for  normal  folk.  being  on  leave  didn't  take  the  routine  training  out  of  the  soldier.  forgetting  where  he  was,  knowing  how  to  navigate  halls  he's  been  in  before,  right  to  the  bathroom.  start  the  routine.  working  through  it,  autopilot. 

   autopilot  until  he  looked  up  in  the  mirror. 

   the  man  who  stares  back  causes  his  chest  to  seize  up.  wide  deep  brown  eyes,  dirty  blond  hair  growing  out,  starting  to  curl.  deep  bags  under  his  eyes.  there's  a  moment  where  the  image  falters,  fades  into  a  hollowed  out  scrawny  teenager  staring  right  back. 

   who  are  you. 

   blink  once.  blink  twice. 

   it's  his  body  -  but  not  his  face.  god  that's  not  his  face.  that's  simon  riley  that  stares  back  at  the  ghost.  a  man  who  should  be  long  dead.  a  man  ghost  never  wants  to  face.  weakness  -  that's  what  it  is.  you're  dead.  you're  no  longer  here.  you  can't  haunt  me  any  longer.  you  died.  you're  dead.  dead  like  everyone  else.  you  died  with  them.  you're  dead.  you're  dead.  you're  dead. 

   the  venomous  rot  bubbles  up  and  stings  the  back  of  his  throat  (or  is  that  bile  from  how  sick  the  visage  before  him  makes  him?).  he  stares  at  it,  that  hollow  pain  reverberating  in  his  chest.  the  pain  that  he  never  could  get  to  leave.  there's  no  ignoring  it  when  it  stares  back  at  him.  he  hates  it.  he  despises  it.  his  hands  curl  into  fists  as  he  watches  the  face  before  him  twist  in  such  an  ugly  way.  those  warm  browns  go  cold,  murderous  -  reflecting  hatred  and  venom.  scarred  lips  curl  to  reveal  his  teeth,  a  snarl  reflecting,  as  if  he  would  rip  the  throat  out  of  the  reflection  with  his  bare  teeth.  god,  how  he  wishes. 

   instead  -  his  fist  flies  before  he  can  think  it  through.  the  image  cracks,  shatters.  shards  of  the  mirror  start  to  fall  into  the  sink,  and  the  image  is  broken  before  him.  it's  enough  to  snap  him  somewhat  out  of  the  spiral.  not  enough.  never  enough.  he  focuses  on  the  blood  that  slowly  drips  down  the  mirror,  stares  at  his  arm,  covered  in  tattoos. 

   who  are  you? 

   the  question  echoes  through  his  mind. 

   whose  arm  is  that? 

   his  eyes  widen,  and  a  cold  fear  strikes  through  to  his  core. 

   who  are  you?  who  are  you? 

   he  can't  answer.

   w  h  o   a  r  e   y  o  u?

   his  breath  catches,  and  he  stumbles  back  from  the  mirror,  back  hitting  the  wall  of  the  bathroom.  his  legs  go  out  from  under  him  and  he  hits  the  floor,  his  hands  gripping  at  his  hair,  tugging  at  it,  as  if  it'll  get  the  voice  out  of  his  head.  as  if  it'll  give  him  peace.  or  answers.  nothing  comes.  the  world  around  him  starts  to  waver,  spin,  spiral. 

   then  comes  a  voice  cutting  through. 

   it  starts  with  a  name  he  doesn't  want  to  hear  -  but  stops. 

   then  his  name  is  spoken. 

   ghost. 

   that's  right. 

   he's  ghost. 

   always  has  been. 

   always  will  be. 

   he  takes  a  moment  to  breathe.  in.  hold  for  five.  out.  hold  for  five.  repeat.  price's  words  come  into  his  mind,  guiding  him  through  the  process.  pull  it  together.  in.  one,  two,  three,  four,  five.  out.  out,  two,  three,  four,  five.  see?  it's  coming  back  now,  isn't  it  ghost? 

   ghost  is  stronger  than  this.  ghost  has  it  together.  he  is  ghost.  he  is  ghost. 

   he  pulls  his  hands  from  his  head,  leaning  it  against  the  wall  and  letting  out  a  heavy  exhale,  keeping  his  eyes  closed.  his  hands  are  shaking  -  he  doesn't  want  to  look  at  them. 

   his  lips  finally  part,  and  his  voice  is  hoarse,  dry. 

   “mask.” 

oh, oh thank the gods he's taking her side and seems to understand. she hides against his side, peeking out at the kings' guards from the safety of his cloak. at least... she certainly hopes it's safe here. she'd caught a glimpse of the flag before rushing aboard, but... regardless of who it was, they had to be better than the king, right? agatha wants to believe so. she has to believe so if she wants to leave this place with her sanity intact. she clings to the captain's shirt, hoping, praying to anyone and anything that might be listening to her, that he doesn't turn her over to the guards.

agatha watches as they falter and look amongst each other, trying to decide what to do. the king wouldn't be happy regardless of what happens. she would rather be here, free, than married to him. agatha glances around to the crew now, seeing their hands poised on their weapons, their expressions one of intense determination. they certainly present as a frightening bunch, an entire force to be reckoned with.

with the guards finally relenting and leaving, agatha visibly and audibly relaxes, pushing a heavy sigh past her lips. admittedly, she was afraid a fight would break out and someone could get seriously injured and die. agatha wouldn't be able to live with herself if that was on her conscience.

the faerie lets go of the captain and remains at his side, glancing up now as he speaks to her. she offers a tentative nod, following him as he leads her into the ship. " th-thank you so much for that back there. had the c-circumstances been d-different, i— i-i w-wouldn't even be here, but they aren't, s-so here i am. " she murmurs, her gaze lowering. she fidgets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. " i-i s-s-suppose now you're wondering why a p-princess would rush onto a p-pirate ship, right? "

Blackthorn, his cloak billowing behind him, reached out to stabilize the young woman as she stumbled into him. As he felt her trembling in his arms, he quickly surveyed the scene unfolding before him: the shouts of the approaching guards, the panic etched on the woman's face, and the urgency in her plea for help. With a firm grip on her shoulders, he turned to confront the oncoming guards, his posture displaying unwavering determination and a willingness to shield the woman from harm.

"Ye heard th' lady," growled Roderick, his voice carrying the authority of a seasoned captain "If ye want her back, ye'll have to go through me." The guards hesitated, their eyes nervously shifting to the crew members now assembling on the ship's deck above. Every pirate peered down with keen interest, their hands poised on weapons, ready to support their captain. Tension hung thick in the air as the guards came to the daunting realization that they were outnumbered and overpowered.

Roderick narrowed his eyes, the steely glint in his gaze conveying a sense of danger as he spoke again. His voice was low and foreboding, each word laced with a cold warning. "I strongly advise ye to reconsider yer actions and retreat before things take a dire turn. She be under me safeguard, and I don't tolerate any form of threat towards those in me care."

Roderick cast a comforting look down at the princess, gently squeezing her shoulder to reassure her. "Don't worry, lass. Ye're safe with me. No one will force ye to do anything against yer will," he said, his voice carrying an air of unwavering determination. The guards hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances as they seemed unsure of how to proceed in the face of the imposing presence of the crew and the fierce determination in Roderick's eyes. Eventually, with a final, reluctant glance at the princess, they slowly backed away, retreating down the dock, acknowledging the futility of their pursuit. The tension in the air lifted as the guards disappeared from view, leaving the princess and her protectors with a sense of relief and triumph.

As they vanished from sight, Roderick shifted his complete focus to Agatha, his expression showing concern and care. "Ye're in a safe place now. Let's go inside and take some time to figure out our next steps."

" well... it is a little warm, but it's okay! " not it isn't, she's suffering already. please pity the poor faerie and give her some ice.

@fiorserpen

" --- Please don't hesitate to let me know if the temperature rises. I will be more than delighted to provide you with an ample amount of ice to help you cool yourself down. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤindie. sel. multi-muse

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤplayed by BROZI.

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gasp! cute dog!!! she kneels down, petting the top of his head and giving him chin scratches.

   sits.  makes  a  soft  little  noise  -  it  sounds  like  he  has  oinked.  evidently  he  wants  something  (very  likely  to  be  pet).  he  is  a  very  patient  little  guy.  maybe  he  should  get  something  (pet).

i don't think i could do mains/affiliates bc i'd just end up adding everyone to the list