Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Possessed (1 of ?)

Silas had seen a great many things while projected through the Astral Pods. Like a dream, much of it made little and less sense, and he had learned to ignore the wisps of overactive imaginary byproduct.

Needless to say, in the beginning it had been somewhat disconcerting, particularly so to see the spindly phantom whose spider-like appendages coiled menacingly as it loomed over him, its ensnaring threads coiling thickly around them. Even now, few could instill in him the same sense of dread as the phantom menace, nor have any visions thereafter shaken him much the same, and this Time would prove no different.

Still, this was the first Time one of them talked.

Neiro and Ken had just left on an outing and he had been alone when he heard it.

A gentle rapping on knuckles and quiet cough drew his gaze away from the dishes, brow furrowed. Neiro was too rambunctious to be so sophisticated, and Ken's voice wasn't so low in tone.

Craning his head he peered behind him.

"Pardon the intrusion. If I may?" Stepping in through the doorway, there stood a rather tall fellow with long silky hair that framed a handsome face--were it not for the blindfold covering his eyes, and the depressions that suggested at the macabre.

His gaze lingered at the hollow sockets underneath the pure white cloth.

Unsettled, Silas slowly turned around to fully face the intruder, hand in the sink feeling for the handle of a knife he knew to be there, "Who are you?"

The stranger chuckled at his commandeering tone, "My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. The name is Muspell, a passerby if you will."

Amiable and disarming though his voice was, Silas remained tense.

"Truly, I did not believe that you would be so surprised. One would think you used to the oddities of the Aether by now."

He froze, "The Aether?" 

Muspell, as he so called himself, tilted his head, nodding slowly, "Indeed. You've manifested yet you know nothing of it...?"

What nonsense was he rambling about?

Aside in a softer tone he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "remarkable".

Be it sarcasm or amazement he cared not, though it hadn't sounded malicious in any way, but with a sort of frank genuine nature that he oft saw in Neiro. Silas grimaced, the strange man was coming closer, "State your business."

Muspell held up his hands in a placating gesture, "I mean no ill, only the desire of sight that I am no longer possessed of."

The responding answer was a sharp, "Absolutely not."

"Ah, you misunderstand, I do not desire your eyes for mine self, simply to share your sight."

"The answer is still no."

"Please? I seek only closure."

"No is no." He stated firmly, backing away from Muspell.

The apparition hesitated, "I suppose it was rather sudden, but please reconsider. You are the only one around with whom I share considerably compatibility. Anyone else and the synchronization would be far too unstable."

"Be straight with it. Your request is asking for the possession of my body. What is it you hope to accomplish by doing so?"

"I have not the strength to take tangible form." Muspell hesitates, "When I left it was so abrupt and Nu-Neiro, I--I left him all alone."

"Neiro? The same Neiro?" Silas straightened up, piqued, but Muspell seemed not to notice, wrapped in his thoughts.

Brow furrowed and hand to his lips in thought as he rambled on, "The living bear such heavy burdens, I wish to alleviate all that I can, for the wound I gouged runs deep."

"Who is Neiro?"

Muspell pauses, face falling, "Neiro? You don't recognize the name? Could it be he has he not kept it...? I..." The blind phantom clears his throat, "I'm certain he is with you, there are traces of him all around and you are most densely coated with the traces of his aetherical signature."

Averting his sightless gaze, Muspell goes on, "Even... Even if he doesn't go by that name now, I'm certain that 'Neiro' is here."

Silas could fathom little the spirit's intent, but malicious or not he refused to oblige. After all, the path to hell was paved with good intentions.

"What are you to Neiro?"

At this Muspell seemed to falter, as if he didn't himself know, and at last settled for, "A close friend, I suppose."

In a sudden and desperate outburst, Muspell brought himself kneeling in front of Silas before raising his head and imploring him with a silent but desperate plea.

"No."

His shoulders slump, "Please reconsider. It would mean so much to me--to us both--if I could only give Heart's rest." And like a puff of smoke, the phantom vanishes.

The invalid goes back to washing the dishes.