Brom Bones

bromvanbrunt:

"what has me troubled is the fact that you think I would so humbly offer up my issues to you. Please, DO GO ON!"

"Forgive me for thinking that it would be a relief for both of our boredoms to talk."

"what a coincidence. No one cares about your troubles either," Ichabod’s eyes flashed with a sort of controlled anger.

"Come now," Brom said with false amicability, "What has you troubled, Crane? The oddities of modern confections? Signage? The fact that most people in Sleepy Hollow have little to no idea what a musket is anymore?"

#capnkenwayandhawkeye

A Scary Sight

She found herself nodding with his words - Virginia wished that she had had the chance to know her parents. It seemed to her that everyone she had ever known had known her parents, even, apparently, ghosts. “People in the village tell me that I look like her,” Virginia murmured. She had, of course, never been able to judge for herself - but so many people had informed her of this that she had to conclude that it must on some level have been true.

Without quite realizing she had done so, Virginia began shifting her weight gently from foot to foot, rocking a little as she did so. His words caused her brows to knit together slightly. “So you have just been…” Virginia started to say, and then paused, unsure of how to finish the thought. “Wandering?” It seemed apt. “By yourself?” She couldn’t say that she envied that of him, truth be told. "That sounds lonely." Virginia said, edging a little closer to one of the trees that seemed to dot her dream, sitting down with her back against the wide birth of the trunk. Still, he seemed jovial enough, and another smile was pulled to her lips when he laughed. "A happy accident, indeed. Very fortuitous." Virginia nodded, grinning up at him. She looked around for a moment, the trees even taller than they were before at this lowered height. "I have been here before, in dreams. Here, more often than not - and yet, I cannot say I’ve ever ventured to such a place in life."

"You do," Brom said, quickly adding, "It was a wonder I did not see the resemblance before." Then the words tumbled out before he could realize them, "Your mother was the most beautiful girl in Sleepy Hollow." In theory, they could have held a suggestive meaning, but not for Brom, who was merely reminiscing. His hands found way to his coat pockets, and before he could help himself, a familiar bashful feeling crept over him. Well, it wasn't a familiar feeling, Brom was always so confident and dashing. In life, though, the Van Tassel residence always managed to set him off his normal strutting.

Pulling himself back to the matter and out of his past, Brom nodded. "There's nothing for a spook like me to do. Even in dreams, you're the first person to see me. Everyone else might turn back in my direction, but they never see." Bother that, it sounded so droll and mournful. He was never a man to dwell on the sad things in life--and that went for the afterlife as well!

Brom knelt down to pick up a leaf, smiling to himself. "Perhaps it is better that this place is not known to you. Familiarity only seems to confuse men in dreams--I've seen it," He chuckled. It was astonishing how simple dreams were for most men who just dreamed of planting seeds, or tending to livestock. "Although, a forest seems fairly general."

Ichabod sighed. “Five hundred years, indeed.”

#capnkenwayandhawkeye #forgive Brom

"Forgive me for lacking sympathy for your extended nap," Brom quipped, unimpressed by his rival.

A Scary Sight

A little laugh escaped her. “Ichabod Crane was my father, sir.” She explained truthfully. “And my mother, Katrina. You knew them both?” Virginia asked. “That is indeed more than I can say of either of my parents.” And that was the truth of the matter. Her parents had not lived long enough to see her.

Virginia stared at him for a moment, and then found her eyes looking around at their surroundings. Yes, she knew that it was a dream. It felt like a dream - like everything was solid, but at the same time as if she might pass through something if she weren’t careful. That was not how it worked in dreams, though. If you wanted something to be tangible, if you believed that it was - then it would be. Still, then her gaze settled back on Brom and she managed a sheepish little smile. “And tell me, Brom, are there many spectres in Sleepy Hollow? Or are you one of the few who linger?” Humor seemed a safer method of approaching a difficult topic, Virginia would have to agree. All the same, she tilted her head a little as she watched him. “I feel I often see many things I am not supposed to. In dreams. That’s where we are now, is it not?” She gestured slightly around at the trees. “My dream, and not yours. So why do I find you here?” It was a simple question and not meant to be insulting. Was it because she had met him earlier in the day? She would have to assume so.

"Yes, I knew Katrina since we were both young," Brom said, the words spilling out before he could think about them. But his focus was not on the words. His thoughts were racing. After Ichabod and Katrina's marriage, Brom went to the battlefield and did not return. A daughter--he had no idea. When he heard Crane, Brom assumed a relative, or something, if Brom even thought about the matter. There was something undeniable, and curse it, she did look familiar.

There was a pang, a loneliness in her words that Brom recognized. The separation from something, someone so dear. Her family was gone, and his life was as well. "I have not seen another...like me," He confessed, "And truly, I do not know what brought me to Sleepy Hollow after my passing." If anything, Brom imagined that it would be sensical for him to haunt the battlefield that took him. Apparently, it was not so.

He glanced around at the landscape--dreamscape? "Yes, this is a construct of your own." Brom couldn't say that he didn't dream. That was too much. But, how to word that he wanted to say, that was often Brom's struggle. "It is...the privilege of spooks to wander, so it seems, through dreams. I confess," he laughed lightly, "All of this life is still new to me, I am pulled from the real world and dreams without my control. A rather happy accident, this seems."

*he sighed*

I’m rather bored and alone…

#capnkenwayandhawkeye #don't know which character you were going for but take yo pick

"Welcome to five hundred years."

#ooc

theleftenant

+5 have arrived at Sleepy Hollow

"Is there something I can help you with?" She questioned eyeing the person.

#nikoletavantassel #nikoleta-vantassel

"This is the one that Ichabod works with," Brom mused, thinking that she was not speaking to him, no one ever spoke to ghosts anyhow. He chuckled, "Must have been a shock for him."

#theleftenant

Nikoleta-vantassel spotted the spook

"Can you see me? Are you dead too?" Brom asked quickly, forgetting his usual caution.

Generalwtsherman spotted the spook

[Brom straightened himself up, remembering his old rebel fighting days.]

General, did you say, sir?

#generalwtsherman

candyxcorn

[ eyebrows raise at the sight of the other—- no one of importance. ]

”—-leave if you know what’s best for you.”

[Looks behind himself to see if anyone is standing there, then peers around Andy to check there]

"Are you addressing me?"

#candyxcorn

A Scary Sight

Her feet seemed to root themselves in the ground for a moment, her knees tensing in that way that she knew animals had when they were about to bolt - but which was, she could not tell. Instead, Virginia took a step forward, and propelled herself toward the figure of the man in the distance. It didn’t quite occur to her until a few moments later that common sense would have told her to walk away from him, in the opposite direction. It was too late, then, anyway.

And besides - he did not seem particularly threatening to Virginia. He looked like an ordinary man. He was tall, truth be told. Perhaps the tallest gentleman she had seen in her life, though she didn’t know whether or not that was saying something. Sleepy Hollow was not exactly a bustling city center. It was a village, a small one at that, and it was, well… sleepy. He had called her name, and Virginia replied, “I am here,” As she stepped further out of the shadows toward the man. His introduction, truth be told, managed to pull the corners of her lips up into a little smile. It sounded in her ears as if it had been quite some time since he had addressed anyone - he tacked his nickname on as an afterthought. “Abraham. That’s nice.” She repeated, then smiled a little more, “Or do you prefer Brom?” She wondered if perhaps he knew where they were. It had to be a dream - in her life, Virginia had experienced many dreams like this, and while at first she had not realized them for what they were, the knowledge had become clearer to her over time. But the question was, was it her dream? Or his? Suddenly a memory came to her, unbidden, of the man’s leg disappearing through a tombstone. "We met in the graveyard," Virginia stated, a look of slight surprise crossing her features. "You… stepped through a gravestone. Through a gravestone.”

"Everyone calls me Brom," He said with a grin, unable to keep himself from the present, "Even Ichabod. And we were about as friendly as foxes and hunting hounds." For most of his life, Brom was unfamiliar with the feeling of not liking someone and not being liked back, until he met the redcoat. Nothing made him bristle with indignation like his rival.

"Yes," Brom muttered, looking down slightly. Suddenly, he could not seem to think of the right words to say. There was no polite way to say that he was dead. No other dreamer took the news well. But then again, no one had ever seen him in the mortal world. "An odd place to meet, you must admit," He said, trying to delay the reveal with some humor.

"I did not step through a gravestone," He said quietly, "I stepped through my gravestone. I am not of your world, anymore at least. You saw my spirit there." He clasped his hands together in front of his mouth to try to hide himself, "You were not supposed to see me, I am sorry."

"Crane. I have no intention of help you, but I've been in this town for hundreds of years. Must have been for a reason, I figure." Brom shrugged, "Still care about swapping death stories?"

Ichabod nodded. “Fine… If you still wish to help us?”

"our bloodlines were crossed upon our deaths. When he arose… So did I.

"How fortuitous for you, how does one get bloodlines crossed?" Brom asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

#capnkenwayandhawkeye

(Hi I'm also capnkenway-andhawkeye and this is my xeno Dudley so) Dudley trotted up, plopping on her rump and wagging her tail at him. Daddy said to be careful of strangers, but she was smart, and this man looked not scary... Though... He was kinda... See-through... The alien cocked her elongated head.

Brom watched, brow furrowed in confusion. “What are is…” he trailed off, realizing that her eyes were looking at him. “Can you see me?”

((Not completely familiar with the concept, but YAY RPING))

dudley-the-k-9-blog

She whined, letting out a growl and scampering after him. When she tried to bite his sleeve, her teeth went right through him,a nd he alien yelped in shock.

Brom felt, or as close to feeling as a ghost had, something pass through his forearm. Turning back, he saw the creature stumble onto the ground and yelp. "What in the name of God's green earth are you?" He asked exasperatedly, as if expecting an answer.

#dudleythek9

"Crane. I have no intention of help you, but I've been in this town for hundreds of years. Must have been for a reason, I figure." Brom shrugged, "Still care about swapping death stories?"

Ichabod nodded. “Fine… If you still wish to help us?”

"… Fascinating," he said. "… Perhaps the same hessian was there, you simply did not see him… That hessian killed me. Cut my chest upen with a broad axe. I shot him, and managed to cut off his head as well, but… Well, he’s alive once again.

"And, pray tell, hero of this story, why you have a body and I do not?" Brom asked, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice, "And why you've had the benefit of a hundred year nap?"

#capnkenwayandhawkeye

A Scary Sight

He had been there just a moment ago, Virginia would swear it - just there, just a few feet away from her. She had spoken to him, and he had replied as easily as anyone else might. He had seemed more surprised than others would have, but she had chalked it up to the fact that he perhaps thought not to find anyone else in the graveyard at this time of day. And then he was just… gone. He had not walked away, or ran or skipped or jumped or anything of the like - it was if she had blinked and he had faded away.

Virginia looked around the graveyard, and part of her wished desperately that someone would slip out of the shadows and proclaim that they had seen the man, that they had heard him speak… but another part of her was desperately glad that she was alone. No one would have seen him, would they? The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her so. And so instead, Virginia had turned on her heels and walked back to the church, her eyes a little wide but trained on the ground so no one would see. The last thing she wanted was for Reverend Peters to be concerned. He would ask her what was wrong, and she would not be able to say. The pair of them had their supper in near silence, and finally Virginia had retired to bed. She lay there for some time before falling asleep, and when she did… She was back in the forest. Virginia had been here before - and always she found that she wound up where she started. It didn’t matter how far she walked or ran in which direction, she always found herself in the middle of the same clearing. Virginia stood there now, wrapped in her nightgown. It was always cold her, the chill on the air that came in the late month of October. It licked at her, though no breeze stirred the air. Why it was that she found herself here, she did not know - but on occasions, she found herself in the company of others. The Widows of the town had told her often not to speak to the creatures of dreams. She could not blame them for their wariness - and they did not even know of her dreams, for she had never told them. But there was a shape - a shape in the distant shadows. The shape of a man. “Hello?”

When Brom heard another shuffling in the distance, everything connected. He was in someone's dream, of course. One of the few perks of being dead, he was no longer limited to the same planes of existence as mortal men. Then again, he was not welcome in any of the existences he tried to tread through. The shop door was open, and he was forbidden to buy anything.

The forest was unnerving, as any middle ground would be. There was the dreading sense that he was not truly supposed to be there. And Brom hated to be an unwelcome house-guest.

"Hello?" Brom answered back, gritting his teeth and walking toward the figure. Usually, he tried to stay out of the way of another's dreams, it only ended in one of two ways. They did not know him, and it was perplexing for them to find another person in their world, or they knew him and the sight of a dead man sent them to tears.

But now that she--for it sounded like a woman's voice--had seen him, Brom had only to grin and bear it. "Miss Crane?" He called out, it was strange for him to say the name. Miss Van Tassel was reminiscent enough, and Mr. Crane, when he was full of loathing. But the combination sounded foreign to him. For half a second, he wondered if this was one of the shadow's tricks.

"Fear not, I bear you no ill will. I am a Van Brunt. Abraham, the late." He tried to muster a smile, "Or Brom Bones, as it was once spoken around Sleepy Hollow. I doubt that name rings now." He stopped, not wanting to blurt out that she had seen a ghost in the graveyard and overwhelm the poor girl.

"Crane. I have no intention of help you, but I've been in this town for hundreds of years. Must have been for a reason, I figure." Brom shrugged, "Still care about swapping death stories?"

Ichabod nodded. “Fine… If you still wish to help us?”

Ichabod drew a breath, listening to the tale. “…. Did you see a hessian? With a mask. A bald one?”