“you want a mending book, right?” scar asked, head peeking barely above the water, the gills on his neck still submerged in the water.
“if i were to want anything, it would be a mending book, yes.” grian cast his fishing rod back out into the water, his voice was careful and hesitant.
“what if i told you i had one?” scar swam closer to grian, still keeping his distance but grian could feel the water shift from the movement.
“you’re not a mermaid,” grian said, eyes closing into a squint at scar. “you’re a siren, aren’t you?”
“i’ve been called many things,” scar dodged the question. he brought his hand out of the water, brushing shapes into the surface with his fingers. “siren has been one of them.”
“you’re trying to lure me,” grian phrased it like a question, a rising intonation at the end. he reeled his fishing rod back in, another salmon.
“that depends,” scar smirked, his eyes followed the movement of grian unhooking the fish and throwing back into the sea. “is it working?”
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concept with jade leech
there is no dire-beast inside the mirror chamber, and there are no ghosts inhabiting ramshackle. it is simply: you, alone in a rundown building, after the headmaster leaves.
you have been pinching yourself through the day. little crescent marks litter your wrist.
for the past six or so hours, you have been trying really hard to wake up from this dream. nothing is working. desolate, you take to wandering the house.
you know your imagination is strong but an entire college, idiosyncratic characters, and an entire furnished building is a bit complex. still, you card through the squabble, hoping to unearth some mistake in physics that will tell you that this is a dream. that search ends abruptly when you find a loose floorboard and the fragile wood underneath you gives out like a snapped cracker.
you land hard.
ten feet down in the basement, lying on your back.
blinking away dust, your eyes land upon the piece of wood speared cleanly through your abdomen.
the pain tells you this is too much to be a dream.
it is a full two hours you lie there immobile. you try rolling on your side, hoping to at least stand up, but each motion is anguish in an ineffable amount. you wrap your hands around the red wood and try to pull; it leads to your eyeballs rolling so far back you see new colors. skin shining with generous sweat and dipping in and out of consciousness, you lie there and bid limited time until someone from this new world comes to find you. the headmaster will eventually come back, right?
you think about a multitude of things.
you think about how if your corpse withers here, the puss running out your orifices will look like cream cheese.
you think about how the glittering wands those students held might work, is it like harry potter or a unique universe.
you think about how you still had to go to work tomorrow in your own original universe, attend classes, hope plans with friends don’t fall through so you laugh carefree without lungfuls of blood.
your last slip from consciousness to eternal unconsciousness, you think about home. the bed you slept in, the books read and films watched, the snack wrappers on the sheets, what a comforting waste.
you drift off, expecting to be jolted awake again by your own feverish mind, and die, bleeding out on ramshackle’s basement floor.
it takes azul awhile to gain ramshackle’s dorm.
the one new student he saw during the opening ceremony apparently stayed there one night and fled the next morning. as the headmaster’s report goes, crowley found no one living there when he went to check the following day. however, the usage of ramshackle by that magicless student opened up a gate of opportunity and azul did not let it go to waste.
the negotiations took awhile and the proper refurbishment will have to be done. but just before winter exams, azul has managed to secure himself a second location for mostro lounge.
first, damages have to be assessed.
the building is disgusting, rundown, and simply inhabitable. busy with the 250 students he has under contract, azul assigns jade to spend a november afternoon there and make note of what they need to start repairing first.
azul really hopes the plumbing is salvageable. the cost would be through the roof if otherwise.
so jade, hand over his heart, promises to survey ramshackle the next day and outline a list of high priority repairs to stuff they can skimp upon in the budget.
jade’s excited. the mountains he treks are northwest and ramshackle is northeast; this will provide him a new opportunity to see what kind of mushroom may lie on that side of the island. …oh, and he supposes he will also assist azul in his endeavor as well.
the next day, he spends half of the allotted time foraging outside of ramshackle before he actually walks into the building. i should make this quick and efficient. i only have thirty minutes left. notepad in hand, he starts to investigate the wreckage.
uninhabited and ugly. those are the two words that rise to jade’s mind first. truly, it is a lovely space and it would be a disgrace to see it painted in shades of lilac and oceanic decor. but, it will be entertaining nonetheless to see azul’s business expand.
yet, as he’s walking down the halls, jade cannot help but think he is hearing a second pair of footsteps just behind him.
yes, ramshackle is ugly but it does not seem to be as uninhabited as he thought. how intriguing.
so, sadistic grin blooming, jade decides to play a game. he will ignore this secondary person and continue on, waiting anxiously to see what will happen. he marks down his observations, all while feeling a pair of eyes upon his neck. lighting on the first floor needs fixing. the water runs orange in the upstairs sink. nothing entirely formidable has happen yet, but he hopes it will.
jade cannot wait to see if this ghost can turn his skin inside out, or perhaps drop a floorboard on top of his head, the possibilities are endless. it all has jade’s toes squirming in his dress shoes in anticipation.
however, his thirty minutes are up before he can descend the basement stairs and nothing has happened yet.
which is disappointing.
he’ll be back again tomorrow so there is always a chance for something then.
however, he had hoped for something to happen now.
just as jade is walking out the door, list and bag of mushrooms in hand, something ice cold tickles the hairs on his neck. frigid like home. he barely gets a chance to dwell on it before five frozen fingers wrap themselves around his throat and shove him down the porch steps.
the door to ramshackle slams shut.
sprawled on the ground, jade reaches his hand up to the idents on the column of skin, the previous touch thawing out.
he cannot help the deep blush that comes up to his face.
with a deep breath, his own gloves fingers still hovering over the lost embrace, jade stands up and pats himself down. he looks upon the closed door with a hunger in his eyes.
yes, tomorrow he will be back.
and he hopes this ghost will act up again because they have so much more allure to jade than a second mostro lounge.
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