˜”*°•. Timeline was bashing over their head with a frying pan and laughing in their faces – its onslaught never ceasing to impress // luck an enemy they’d made since birth –. Every single attempt meeting with a horrible 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕖 – day after day getting closer and closer to ｃａｌａｍｎｉｔｙ. Every plan, every idea, every sight of potential victory burning to ashes, ebbing away into nothingness. Respite a rather uncaught dream: for he couldn’t retrace his tracks. He couldn’t make this totally right. Many variables had been added, many parameters had been altered: it was a bright new system of billions of equations to which no miraculous calculator could offer a solution.
But maybe this was the ｐｒｏｂｌｅｍ: the fact the variables outnumbered the equations. The fact a solution 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 exist. The fact his methods were fruitless and pieces of the puzzle were missing. For they were residing in a house cold and strange. With people whose motives were still uncertain. Few days in the Academy had they offered – why ? Why would’ve Reginald allowed them to stay ? –. The two Academies sharing the same house. All just ready to kill each other in their sleep.
It was a ｎｏｉｓｅ that caught his attention. It was late – too late // perfect time to just sit and think // no distractions here and there, murmurs and weird looks –. A perfect moment for a drink to be poured, for his brain to finally stay quiet and cooperate – escape from that outpouring of anxiety, that panic // for so many problems had cropped up , so many new issues –. All heralds of destruction. But of course, there’d been a noise. Of course, just a moment before the bottle could be taken, a noise would’ve just… ruined it all. And at that moment? In that very unusual and complicated case? He was just glad the noise had come from Klaus and nobody else. Last thing he needed was to ｓｏｃｉａｌｉｚｅ with those people. ❝ Hard time falling asleep ? ❞
ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ: @ghostconjured
LOSS WAS SOMETHING THAT MOST WOULD EXPECT Klaus not to be familiar with - after all, what would a medium know of loss? Sure, it wasn’t the same, being able to see the dead and having all your loved ones alive. Ghosts were incapable of growing and changing with the living, incapable of being a part of one’s life as the living were, all by the sheer fact that they were not, in fact, alive. They could follow him, they could watch him, they could advise him, but they were limited in their involvement, things could never be as they were before they died.
And yet it still changed things. How could it not, when it meant that he never had to say goodbye?
But he did. He lost Five when they were both thirteen. He lost Dave in Vietnam. And then, finally, after seventeen years, he’d lost Ben. It was something that always had to happen, and something that, for the sake of their relationship and their happiness, should likely have happened a long time before it did, but it still hurt. Finding that this version of the Academy had their own Ben, someone who looked just like him, who at his core was likely very much like Ben, but who was so different from him... it hurt. It was a slap in face, a constant reminder of his absence, and somehow, it felt like some kind of disrespect towards the Ben thad he had known.
So yes, it hurt, and sleep, which had never come easily to him, became even more difficult. It certainly didn’t help that the Sparrow Academy somehow managed to attract more ghosts than they ever had, either, and alcohol did very little to keep them away.
A sigh escaped his lips as he moved to take a seat, one hand outstretched in a silent request for the bottle. “Oh, you could say that. This house is loud.” He shook his head, eyes wandering over a curious group of ghosts that was gathering to watch them. “How about you? Still working on all your equations?”
