writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

"Oh you have to have heard about how haunted our little town is," Oscar replied, a grin back on his face. "It's the main thing that brings in the tourists. All year long people trickle in to see the town that was to source of the documentary Perfect Harmony. Ever heard of it?"

Kunal shook his head. He wasn't exactly a skeptic, but he didn't actively believe in the paranormal either. "So how is this place haunted?"

Oscar stopped at an intersection. "That, Kunal, is a long story I'll have to tell you about later. I'm heading off this way, unless you'd like company a little way further?"

Oscar was giving him an out. Kunal could take it, or he could find some courage and let Oscar walk him back home. After a brief hesitation, he took the coward's route, but amended, "Yeah you can tell me later. But if there are spirits hanging around, I need to know so I can blame them if I bowl a rotten game."

Oscar blinked and then grinned. "Why, Kunal Sadaram, was that a joke? I knew you couldn't be so serious all the time. I'm really looking forward to Friday even more now. Good night." Before Kunal could react, Oscar turned and headed down the street toward his house, leaving Kunal to wonder why that comment had made this sound like a date.

Kunal Sadaram untied his apron, smoothing it as he hung it up behind the door of the kitchens. The wall next to the door had neat rows, a hook and cubby system. It had been devised by Divya, the elder of his two younger sisters, to keep everyone's belongings neat, tidy, and perfectly in line. It was a reflection of her life. As Kunal looked at his sparse cubby, he briefly thought it was also a reflection of his own: organized, but empty.

yabamena

Pandora Rich: black, dreadlocks, often worn back off her face, sometimes clips or weaves in colorful strands, average height, curvy & round, but mostly proportionate - her hips are a little wider than her chest, but she's no slouch in the bust department. her waist is small in comparison to chest and hips, but her stomach is by no means flat. probably wears a size 18-20. round face, wide, round nose, full lips. round eyes, prone to opening pretty wide. very cute/pretty
style: colorful as fuck and tending toward retro/pin-up fashions ranging from the 50-60s. she is unashamed and unabashed about her size and dresses to complement her best features - curvy hips, full chest, long legs. extremely statuesque. will wear complementary colors and is super fond of accessories and the color wheel. she's not all about skirts/dresses though. she likes pants, pedal pushers, capris, and anything that's not super short. Frequently wears an ankh, may have an ankh tattoo.

Sahir Merikh: Tall, thin, medium complexion, from a Middle-eastern family. strong featured: hooked nose, wide mouth though thin-lipped, permanent five-o'clock shadow. Not overly muscled, actually on the skinny side of slender. Very dark wavy hair, warm light golden brown eyes - they just have to be striking, almost shaped, very pretty, definitely his best feature. all limbs with big hands and feet, not conventionally attractive, but very compelling.
style: he doesn't put too much effort into what he wears. Jeans, t-shirts, henleys, sweaters, comfortable clothing that looks neat. he won't take time to press shirts, but he won't wear holey jeans or sneakers that are falling apart. Has an ouroboros ring, may have an an ouroboros tattoo.

Sahir's skin was ashen almost grey under his normally warm brown complexion and it worried me. But what worried me more was the tingling of my skin. It wasn't that buzz that I'd come to recognize when a sould needed to be reaped, but considering how Sahir looked - ironically - like death, I was starting to freak out. Okay yeah reapers and necromancers and even deathdealers and all of us ruled by the Council, weren't exactly among the living, but we weren't dead either. One thing I knew for sure was that we could still die, for real. So it was reasonable for me to be worried that what had just happened had taken too much of of Sahir and that he was not well.

I rested my hand on his forehead, feeling his cool and clammy skin. As soon as I touched him, he stirred, his head shifting towards me, and a sound rumbling in his throat. A few seconds more and he opened his eyes, trying to focus. When he saw me there, he smiled, weakly, and my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just because he was awake. "Pan," he croaked. "What...happened?"

He sounded as terrible as he looked. I didn't move my hand. "That...thing you summoned. It was really strong. It almost broke through the circle," I explained, shivering as I remembered it. That thing had made this horrific hissing noise as it dissipated, its angry red eyes glaring at Sahir. I worried that it would take any opportunity it could to come back for him. Us.

Sahir struggled to sit up and with a frown I held him down where he was. "Don't move, jackass, you're almost dead. You look like hell and the more you move the more you make my skin buzz okay?" I tried to sound nonchalant and joking about it, but my voice shook and Sahir squinted at him, those striking eyes of his faded and tired.

"How did it- did I make it go away?" He seemed really confused, and his hand moved, reaching for mine. I swallowed a lump in my throat and let him take it. His hand was cool, slightly clammy but not ice cold. I wanted to just warm him up and wow, this was not the right time to be thinking like that.

"Yeah. You...looked like you were having a really hard time, like it was too strong.."

He sat up then, so quickly I nearly fell over. "It was. It was too strong for me. I know what that thing was and there's no way I could have summoned it, much less sent it back alone. Something else, no someone else helped." He stared at me color coming back into his skin as he held both my hands now. He looked like he was feeling better, meanwhile I was getting a little dizzy from him just staring at me like that, so close. "Pan?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I know why the Council picked me to train you."

yabamena

( Sahir? Can you show me what it is you do? )

The room was dark, silent, and almost unwelcoming when I arrived. Windows were still shuttered, places weren't set, and the overall atmosphere was foreboding. I checked my watched. I was early, sure, but this wasn't a simple case of me being the first to arrive. No I was either in the wrong place entirely...

Or it had happened again.

A cold shiver ran up my arm as I turned around, waiting for the temperature to drop, waiting for my breath to become visible. Waiting for the spirits to walk. At the far end of the room was a door. Maybe it led to a kitchen or pantry, or even down to a cellar. Through it, silent and pale, nearly translucent, came a figure dressed in what was once servant's clothing. It still looked neatly pressed, crisp and perfectly in place, down to the cap on the maid's dark hair. Her face was serious, solemn, and somewhat plain, not at all remarkable.

Then she turned and I stumbled back, stifling a scream. Her face was half gone, flesh and skin peeled or rotted back to show teeth and bone. Her entire left check was missing, her left eye drooping slighting into the cavity. The maid noticed me then and not for the first time, I wished that the dead couldn't see me, that they didn't need me. I stepped back, into something warm and living, and the scream I'd been holding back erupted.

"Pan, whoa, it's just me! You okay?" Large hands settled on my shoulders as I recognized the voice.

"Dammit, Sahir! Warn me before you creep up on me like that!" I glared at him, punching him hard on the shoulder. I looked back towards the maid, but the spirit was gone, disappeared as if she hadn't been there at all.

"Ow!" Sahir rubbed his arm and glared right back, but then he noticed by expression. "Happened again?" His voice was calm and quiet as his other hand slipped down my shoulder to my hand. "Tell me about it."