#adjusted a bit in my reply to match your lore but lmk if you dont like that!! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lostwcnderlands]

when he'd addressed her directly, naomi's eyes widened, a smile appearing - but it was dashed && gone almost as soon as it had shown itself. now, heat rushed to her cheeks, and she felt a sudden flush of anger. " i beg your pardon, but this is my house. " the ghost spoke firmly, and matter-of-factly. for it was, after all, her house. she had never vacated it, even after her death. when told to pass over to the underworld, naomi had plead her case to hades, begging to stay. she would be damned if someone came in and disrespected her home in that way. and she was even willing to share!

arms crossed, and she floated upwards, forgetting to bother with looking as human and unfrightening as possible. " and i have done nothing else but tidy up your mess. "

but as the ghost stood her ground (despite little standing taking place, in truth), naomi allowed herself to privately feel some spike of excitement in her chest, where a heart should be beating, at the use of his language. finally. ah-ha. so he'd been wanting to meet her, too, even if only to scold. at least, for the first time in decades, she'd been noticed. but..... " how can you see me? " naomi asked suddenly, eyes narrowing, and a suspicious tone consuming her voice. why now, why him, after all this time of trying with every inhabitant of her home?

victor is no stranger to the supernatural. his world’s been chock-full of legends, monsters and bedtime stories turned real for as long as he’s known how to read. so far, it’s always been the mundane that managed to surprise him—the little details, caught in the freezing of a memory, like a person’s quirks, the singsong of a bird, the peacefulness of a place to call home.

the little details, for someone whose abilities also lie in never—ever—forgetting where he placed a piece of paper or a book, are quite important.

so when it all started, he noticed right away.

he didn’t know at first what it was, so he observed and waited. a blessing unknowingly given by hestia? or a prank—very much like it, because who would think moving his objects from one place to another was a gift? preposterous—played by a child of hermes he would soon find the culprit hidden as a cursed trinket in his bags. but the first time he saw that hand. . . pressed against the window glass, there was no doubt in it: he was dealing with a ghost. so he made his move.

he couldn’t see them naturally, no. but all it took was a number, a favor he called in from a friend and he had the little potion in hand. it required him some time to adjust, but ah—there she was. he’d find it all too strange if the nervousness in her hadn’t amused him just the same. “finally we meet.” he smiles, like he’s greeting a fellow mate in the bread line of a market. “may i ask you, miss, why you find joy in messing up the belongings of someone else’s house?”