You're just seeing things. @fantomedulouvre-blog - Tumblr Blog

redwxdanohara-deactivated201502

fantomedulouvre

redwxdanohara-deactivated201502

"Ghost friend..!!"

Oops, is there now a undead witch in the Louvre? Yes, there is now an undead witch in the Louvre. At least she had the decency of wearing more of a school girl-ish outfit before coming in here, but, y’know.

And it’s not like she took the time to travel - oh no. Dimension hopping is a thing with powerful witches, and so is teleportation. She didn’t have to bring anyone, so she could do that without a worry - all to come and see ghost friend. Who, yeah, is named Raphael, but ghost friend sounds cooler.

fantomedulouvre-blog

Would you look at that! If it wasn't your little (and that was quite literal, for she barely came up to your chest) bizarrely and questionably undead friend from earlier! In the flesh and in the grand halls of the Louvre, just to see you! You couldn't imagine anything nicer than having someone you could interact with sans, of course, being rid of this dreadful and luxurious prison of yours. Company to a lone spirit who no longer knew the pleasures of his former sociability was a gift from the gods who damned him to this existence. Christmas, you would call it.

♭ — ❞Dead friend!"

Chipper and delighted, oh you're a bundle of joy to settle your ethereal gaze upon the petite figure of the carmine witch. How she gotten into the famed museum without an ounce of notice, you cared not for these petty details when she was before you and beaming up at you. The idea surrounding her appearance was one of witchcraft and other fanciful mystical thoughts, though to these you knew not if they held an ounce of truth. You merely took her getup for a queer sense of fashion by the likes you have never seen, and that was well enough for you.

♭ — ❞Hey now, what's the occasion, huh? My birthday isn't for another month, doll."

Or... Something like that. You only could assume things based upon your since deteriorated understanding of the life that had long since passed you.

#redwxdanohara #;;après la mort

♭ — ❞I'm kind of upset. The batteries ran dead on this Gameboy that Charlie gave me, and I have had absolutely nothing to do but follow some cute dames around the Louvre."

#;;après la mort #;;idle chatter

♭ ❞Eighty-eight and nineteen."

#;;après la mort #;;idle chatter

lebruitpensant-blog

Of course he would! That was the least he could do for his alternate, stranded inside the walls of the Louvre— now that raised a question he had not conjured until that very moment. How come he did not just leave at his guise the museum? Sure, Phantom R was aware of the myths surrounding ghosts’ conjuration, how they were on Earth because of an ‘unfinished business’- which, he guessed, had something to do with the items around, ravishing few of his doubles’ eyes before they stole them. But why did he stay here then? Surely the outside world was more interesting, though Paris might have grown boring even more to someone who would wander there before Ralph was even a thought in his grandparents’ mind- a long time. That was a sensitive question, he thought, but still one that kept lingering in his mind.

But to go back to our inquiry, of course he would. Actually, his enthusiasm over a mere newspaper was contagious, even more when the specter’s face mimicked Phantom R’s own expressions, and it would have been hard to not smile and laugh, even with that… original nickname, past the first moment of surprise, ‘of course he would know your name, he is you’! If his accent was not a dead giveaway of his origins, now was it settled.

“That’s no big deal, Ghostie!” There, now they both had one. Though he could not actually tell how often he would come back to that verse of the Louvre- soon enough, or else that promise would not be realized. “But I was wondering…” Phantom R stopped himself in a breath, realizing how he casually slipped to the question that now occupied his mind. It was a weird feeling: instinctively, he would ask everything and answer anything to his alternate, but his nature itself stopped his trail of thoughts like a cold, really ghastly hand on his shoulder. Oh, well, now he said too much.

“Why don’t you just check out yourself? Can’t you leave? The Louvre, I mean.”

fantomedulouvre-blog

Yes, there would come a time in which the query would be marked in your conversation. Why was it that you could not leave the great and wonderful Louvre? A tricky thing to answer beyond a plaintive and drab response; you simply couldn't. That wouldn't quite satisfy anyone, especially a variant of yourself.

His question merits a soft breath surpassing your lips--not from the somber turn the conversation took, but rather from your own thoughts of the matter. Speaking upon your afterlife and willingness to leave the Louvre of your own accord was nary the topic you were afraid to touch upon, but with so many years speak in your prison the idea of ever leaving came to be nothing more than a whimsical dream. A work of fiction, just as many made your existence out to be in due time. Why, oh why was asked often. Why were you stuck here? What had you done that had you trapped in the renowned museum? Why had you met your end at only nineteen, and for what reason? Questions left unanswered, shrouded in a veil you could not lift on your own. All you knew was that you were bound to an old bauble of Babylonian descent and it served as your anchor to your existence.

♭ ❞Can't."

The answer is firm; definite and to the point, unlike the previous chipper and playful vocalization held only minutes prior.

♭ ❞If I could, I would. I'd of been back in Chicago, or somethin'. Anywhere but here, y'know? It was nice the first week after things set in, but eighty years wears on ya."

#lebruitpensant #because you're patient for replies from my slow ass :u

tweendoriru

Self-preservation.

#why don't we talk about this

♭ ❞El Louvre es en fuego and I'm not moving."

#fucking a guys cant a phantom live in peace #dash commentary

♭ ❞You're about to face the wrath of God."

#wink wonk here i am

lebruitpensant-blog

That did not go as bad as Phantom R anticipated, after all. Not well either, and that was understandable, since even he, who was the one to explain things, had trouble making total sense of the situation. Oh, sure he got the outline, but there were still so many things that did not click, and the peculiar nature of his alternate did not help- as in, the fatal difference between them was their life or absence thereof. And just as well as Ghostie wondered about that injustice, vocal about it, as his pout was soon mimicked by the sound thief, the latter wondered about that strange turn of events. He did not know enough about the laws of the multiverse to shake off the idea that it could be his fate- a ghost stuck on Earth. Even though there were eighty years that were separating the two. But could he do something about the other’s destiny? Not really, just shrugging off his rightful annoyance.

“Well, I couldn’t tell you how it changed in… a century.” That was indelicate, it rang wrong in his own ears, and for a moment he just stopped to tip his hat back on his neck. But that was true; he could gladly tell how Paris changed in the last years, but eighty years ago? He did not know how the city was back in these days. “But nothing is hardly happening now, apart from us thieves. Everyone’s busy planning the Fête de Paris, but it is always the same. Lots of concerts, too. To be honest, it’s getting hard to follow. No better way to trouble a sound thief than giving him more targets, I guess.” At least was Ghostie lucky he fell upon one alternate that grew more and more tired of the life in Paris, and would not gush about the life outside the walls of the Louvre. Sure, it was still the beautiful city of his childhood, and becoming a thief, he could see the golden coat under the silver lining of the ‘normal life’, the obscure sides. Still, things were hardly moving and Napoleon, despite being a danger, was a welcomed change. A challenge.

“You know what? I’m not sure how often I could come back here, but I’ll bring you the newspaper.”

fantomedulouvre-blog

You're fine with pushing past the topic to make talk of something other than the fact you were one in the same and you were the one who ended up dead. The idea of speaking on your demise wasn't quite so fickle for you however it certainly was a vague discussion to hold when you knew little upon it yourself. Well, aside from the mere fact you met your end rather abruptly at approximately the same age as he, but the specifics were lost in the tides of time in an era long gone. A heist gone wrong, you assumed without much thought. Perhaps if he pressed upon the matter, you would chatter about it, but really! Who liked to talk about death when they were still alive? You sure didn't when you were.

You raised the query merely to grasp what you couldn't experience for yourself--it was far to clear you were from a different time and country as a whole. Life beyond the Louvre these days wasn't something you understood, nor did you consider how tiresome the city outside was for a native. At least, not when you certainly had little problem with Chicago. Or, maybe. It was hard to recall how you felt about a city you haven't been to in too long to count.

♭ ❞You'd do that for little ol' me, huh?"

Getting a hold on any newspaper in the Louvre was too far and in between, and his offer was well and dandy to you. Not that you had enough of a grasp on the local language to seriously decipher anything, but hey! The thought was enough to bring a chipper expression to your features and a bubble of laughter from your chest.

♭ ❞That's swell of you, Raphie-boy."

That was... Kind of a weird thing to say, your own name at another.

♭ ❞I'll owe ya big time if ya keep me on the up and up out there."

#wow hi pressy here comes my late self again thank you for being patient you wonderful person you #lebruitpensant