by Kivutar » Tue Mar 06, 2018 5:29 am
Dewang takes a step backward as she advances, stopping when he feels the rock behind him. She is a breath away, and he can see an empty hunger behind her doe's eyes. His guts clench, and for a moment he is reminded of Junyou.
"I would be happy to ease your troubles, My Lady," he says, and she hesitates for a moment, unblinking eyes boring through him. Nothing happens for what seems like hours.
Suddenly she pushes forward again. The tomb seems to fill with fog, and he can feel the Yin energy gathering around them. Ancestors, it is a fog, and he is breathing it in. He -
"No," he says softly. It takes every ounce of his strength, but he pushes the mist aside.
She looks stricken, and falters, and he sees a twinge of fear in her face. Dewang does not relax. A wounded tiger is much more dangerous. If she lashes out again...
"At least, not like that," he adds, reaching out for her hand.
His veins are filled with ice. The lantern is gone. She laughs, and he remembers to breathe. The blood is roaring through his ears. She has no heartbeat, of course she doesn't...
She feels solid, but not real. The rock under him is much warmer, and he pushes against it shuddering. It is like having a lapful of cloud, airy and heavy, muggy and cold, filling his lungs and blinding his eyes. He tries to sit up, and is vaguely aware that his body is moving, but his mind feels paralyzed. He is trapped, immobilized, and only his shell remains, twitching on the floor like some obscene insect.
Then suddenly he is freed. The ghost moans softly, and he feels again that flash of warmth. The massive and intangible weight lifts off him.
The voice beside him is almost playful. "That was well done, priest." She was, after all, a living woman once.
He lies gasping for another moment or two. His wits slowly come back to him, and remembering his manners, he mumbles that he is glad he could do her service.
"Of course you are," he hears, quite faintly this time, and he sees a patch of moonlight where the stone had been. He turns his head stiffly. The ghost is gone.
Dewang slowly sits up. His surroundings feel real now, only a dark earthen room with a hard stone floor, filled with books and dust and trash.
He pulls himself to his feet, pausing when he brushes something lukewarm and sticky on the floor.
Oh. Of course. Of course.
He stumbles through the entranceway and vomits on the gravel outside.
He sends a cart for the books the next morning. It is easy to find a couple of soldiers to load the books for a little money. He supervises the operation from a distance.
Last edited by
Kivutar on Sun May 20, 2018 3:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
Then the LORD said to me, "Go again, love a woman who is loved by her husband, yet an adulteress, even as the LORD loves the sons of Israel, though they turn to other gods and love raisin cakes."
Hosea 3:1