Death Greets Us All

it's inevitable that the end will come, and when it does what will you feel? will you be proud of your legacy or drown in your regrets? remember, we don't control who lives, who dies, who tells our stories.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

patrick--wood:

“Well, that’s good then.” And surprisingly easy. Apparently a shiny rock and he was getting an open invite to fresh herbs without having to raid the campus garden and risk territorial Salem students telling him to get his hands off their basil. “I’ll totally hit you up for that… Anyway, I don’t want to like. Take up your time or anything, I just came to like… say sorry, I guess?” He knew this would only get more uncomfortable for a bit, so he had to just dive into it. 

“I mean for the whole dead bird thing. I, uh. I get pretty uncomfortable around that sort of thing, and when I’m uncomfortable I tend to be just a… well, whatever you want to describe my behavior as. I think you’re actually pretty decent as people go, and we share a floor, so I just wanted to uh, yeah. Whatever.” He trailed off, hoping the meaning was getting through past his gibberish. “I’m making pasta for the rest of third floor tonight, so anyway. Be cool if you were there, if you want— assuming you’re not allergic to dairy or wheat…” Main point delivered, apology sort of coherent. Done— he hoped.

He hummed slightly in agreement, turning the beautiful rock over in his hands enjoying the feeling that the smooth surface provided. When Patrick continued talking, he looked back up not quite making awkward eye contact. An apology? Well that was kind of unexpected though Soren reckoned that could be because he wasn’t one to offer them. He sort of shrugged and offered, “It’s okay.”

“I mean I probably wasn’t the most friendly and um I got free Jabberknoll feathers? So there’s that, I guess,” he said, the latter part mostly joking. He nodded at the invitation allowing a small smile to grace his usually somber face. “I might stop by depending on, y’know stuff.” Well that wasn’t vague at all, he thought to himself while giving the other mental credit for the kind gesture.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

Teresa took notice that someone had joined her pratically empty table. He looked familiar, possibly a fellow Ilvermorny student but who knew. She was also pretty terrible at putting names to faces. This made her even more awkward in social situations. The smell of coffee around her was nauseating. She could only see herself drinking it only if completely necessary. This was rare, Teresa was a real early bird. Coffee was pretty much useless, she already had so much energy in the morning. 

Mind passing the cream? She looked around her and found the container of cream but naturally, it was completely empty. The hoards of morning zombies had finished it all. At least at this part of the Hall. “Empty. Guess you can drown it in sugar and hope it doesn’t taste too disgusting.” she admitted. Only once had she tried black coffee. Teresa swore a small part of her soul died that day.

Soren almost wanted to just take his toast and go crawl back into bed. And yes, maybe he wanted to cry into his pillow - because black coffee was that horrifying. Instead of doing any of the he just sighed, “Do you think you can absorb caffeine through your skin?” It wasn’t a serious question but he slumped down and placed his forehead on top of his mug, as he considered his options.

Either he went and found cream somewhere else in the cafeteria (and that wasn’t guaranteed), he drank black coffee, or he drowned it in sugar which probably wouldn’t work. He really didn’t want to move, maybe he should start drinking tea to avoid situations like this. He looked up, and grabbed the sugar bowl that was closest to him. Empty, naturally.

“Any chance that the sugar over by you isn’t empty?” He was both hopeful and hopeless, feeling rather sullen about the rapidly decreasing chances of a good drink with the worst meal of the day.

[patrick--wood-radicalarchiv-blog]

So, it was… time.

Only once before had he (soberly) explained to someone that he was a dick, and apologized for it. Once. And that was in the third grade. If he could’ve used alcohol or Veritaserum as an excuse at that time he likely would’ve wanted to. But if Jimmy Ha could sort-of-maybe-get-it-kind-of-a-little, and get back on neutral ground with him, then Pat felt like Soren probably deserved a chance too. Or maybe he thought he deserved to give himself another chance.

To, you know. Not propose they drown a suffering animal out of sheer awkwardness and discomfort. Yeah. To not do that a second time would be great.

He knocked on Soren’s door in A3, the lesser of the third floor dorms, and waited. When it opened, he hoisted the peace offering he’d thought to bring.

“I hear you like… rocks and like, divination crap…” he said hesitantly, going off of rumours. “I don’t know if this is a good one or not.”

@sorentrasksghost

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

Soren was perched on his bed among a nest of blankets and pillows, when he heard someone moving about. He brushed it off, assuming that it was one of his roommates and continued to braid together multiple bunches of dried herbs. Then someone knocked on his door, and he leaped off his bed grabbing a shirt as he headed for the door.

He pulled it on as he opened the door and end up staring like an owl when he was faced with the last person he expected (or second last - he didn’t reckon that Tibbets kid would ever come after he sprayed him with holy water and lavender). Patrick was standing there with a rock, well not just a rock - a hawk’s eye, a gorgeous and magical rock.

“Yeah I um like rocks and spiritual things,” he said awkwardly shifting slightly. “This is a wonderful one, a hawk’s eye. I heard that you like cooking, if you ever run low on herbs, I’ve started growing some in my windowsill.”

[terripatterson-deactivated20170]

Teresa stared at the array of food in front of her. Piles of french toast, trays of bacon, a pyramid of eggs. Her stomach let out a growl and she reached out to use the tongs to fetch a plate. The plate right underneath her nose was soon covered with pieces of buttered toast, hash browns, and a pile of scrambled eggs. A few other students shuffled in, bleary-eyed from staying up too late, some pouring themselves copious amounts of coffee.  A few others started making conversation, talking about the upcoming week. She looked down at her plate, taking another mouthful of eggs into her mouth. Despite it being far into the year, Teresa still found himself without a person to talk to during breakfast. “Granted,” she thought, “I eat way too fast to actually make conversation.” 

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

Soren was not by any stretch of imagination a morning person, unless of course you were talking about 3am. Most days he just skipped breakfast to get a couple extra hours of sleep before classes, or stopped by the cafeteria for a gallon of coffee. Today for some strange reason, Soren felt wide-awake despite the fact that it was indeed typical breakfast time. He didn’t know why, but he knew that he was hungry and not sociable. Which meant breakfast but hopefully no talking.

He picked a familiar face (he thought he might recognize her from Ilvermorny but who knows) and sat down nearby.  Soon he had a nice amount of caffeine in front of him, as well as pile of toast. But of course, something had to go wrong. The cream was just out of reach, next to the girl that he had been hoping not to talk to. His only choice was either human interaction or drinking black coffee (some of his classmates would say that it would match the color of his soul, but it still tasted disgusting).

With an almost entirely inward sigh he asked, “Mind passing the cream?”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

roisinmulligan:

Roisin considered his answer. “Some people consider me quite the enigma. If you need a little more ‘quiet trepidation’ in your life, I’d be happy to oblige to that.” She reached over to shake his hand without much permission from the other. “Roisin Mulligan– The Legend, in blood and flesh.” Glancing over his things, though not much acknowledging them, she continued to speak, “But really, do go on about your concept of the unknown and your fears of it. When did you first realize your ‘quiet trepidation?’”

“I’m not sure you understand, see I’m not scared of people even strange people. I understand what people are capable of, I know the depths of their depravity.” He took her hand briefly shaking it before withdrawing back into his own space. “Soren Trask. Legend? Well I haven’t heard anything.” He noticed her wayward glance but wasn’t bothered much by it. “The unknown by definition is that of which there is no logical explanation for, or that of which we as a species do not know. It makes me uneasy to think of things that have no explanation. I like answers, like knowing.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

roisinmulligan:

Roisin should have known new resident, Spooks, wouldn’t have been bothered in the slightest. She huffed before sitting forward to speak to him. “What scares you, Trask?” It was a curious thing to want to know. Certainly not the usual things that scared a person. Soren seemed to take fascination with those. “Do tell, won’t you? I’m positively interested.”

When he heard someone huff, he turned to actually look at them. An eyebrow raised at the next question and her expression, it was very unexpected. “Well not spiders - perhaps the unknown. Though that’s more a quiet trepidation than an intense fear.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

jakecarsonmitchell:

“Oooh, good one. ‘Cause nothing’s scarier than gu-gu-gu-ghosties, right? Though I’m not sure this counts as talking, you’re kinda just making noises with your mouth at this point. I’m starting to hear it as an annoying buzz in the background, happens when I get bored sometimes…”

“Actually there are plenty of things scarier than ghosts but I doubt you would understand that given your seemingly microscopic understanding of the spiritual world.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

jakecarsonmitchell:

“Some of you and the other bits of primordial ooze, maybe. But most higher lifeforms at least prefer not looking like they’re diseased— it’s an evolutionary thing. I’d rather look like something people try not to kill than something that’s already died,” he countered sweetly.

“I wish I existed in the primordial era, at least then I wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of you. Perhaps, but I’ve learned that most people don’t mess with things that are already dead and yet continue to talk.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

jakecarsonmitchell:

“Really?” He gestured vaguely, head to toe, at the other guy. “This whole… appearance… you’ve got going on, that’s fine, for you?”

“Indeed it is, I personally think it’s better than looking like a five year old mixed with a squirrel. Besides, for some of us there are more important things than looks.”

[jakecarsonmitchell-blog]

“That looked like it hurt. You okay? I could get you some ice,” he said, smirking slightly.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

“I’m fine,” he said glaring at the other, slightly shaking off his sweater.

[darcymehta-deactivated20170808]

Roisin bent behind her book, fixated on the magic she was practicing. With so many students well-versed in wandless magic, she thought she’d brush up on it, rusty from lack of using it for less pressing things. Carefully, she waved her hand, making the spider in front of her dance on the table. Then she got the better idea to make it crawl onto the book of her unsuspecting neighbor.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

Soren needed to brush up on subjects outside of his interests, never having realized how many things he had been meant to learn. Of course, needed to catch up meant sitting in the library many afternoon which lead to him looking a bit like someone who had never slept.  When a spider crawled onto his book, his simply hummed at it before moving it so he could turn the page. Not sure where he wanted to place it, he decided to gift it to the person he had sat next to.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

zoe-yamamoto:

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware you’re being sarcastic, but I actually am a kind person so I’m going to ignore it.”

“Are you sure that you’re a kind person though? Because you don’t really strike me as one.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

grace--raleigh:

He had a point, about both the time, and the swivel chair. “Locks, locks,” she said, quietly amused. “I have keys to the castle, kiddo,” she reminded him. “I basically lived in the Charms classroom this… last…year.” She frowned slightly. “Last year…” Things around her slowly solidified, for a second, and Salem popped back into existence. Salem, Oregon, America— it was there, but only for the briefest breath, and she drifted again. His comment about the birds threatened to pull her back to sobering reality, but she was too airy for that, and floated past the possibility on a breeze that left the aftertaste of autumn. Then she laughed, pulling her bare feet closer. “Maybe they just really fancy being around us?” she said, speaking of the crows.

“But that’s a different castle,” he whispered. “Your princess is not in this castle, as they say.” He laughed softly, enjoying the amusement that came from being in the current environment.  The cold air mixed with the attitude of his current companion was slowly causing his tension to dissipate. “So bringing the chair to your dorm would be like rescuing princess peach, endgoal right?” He nodded, though mostly affirm what he was saying than in agreement with his next question. “Maybe, that or death.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

bazkin-summit:

     “Caring about what I can offer is a second thought if I don’t seem worthy of their time in the first place.” he quickly replied, Deep down Sergei knew how superficial vanity was, how people offer more than the eye could ever know, or that suits or dresses wouldn’t hide all their insecurity—yet socially that didn’t matter. Among this w o r l d you still had to abide by laws and fallacies even if you didn’t want to. To those ‘schmoozers’, they were playing the game to get to the top; regardless if there was a higher or alternative road to take. 

     “I’d love to think so idyllically, but the hards facts is that no matter how much our skills or recognition might have brought us—at least this far—mean’s nothing if we can’t mingle and show our worth.” he dusted his hands off with a spare napkin, “Don’t get me wrong, I know I look good on paper but sadly off of it…I need work. So if slapping a suit or wearing something expensive can help with that, even a little, well I’ll do it.” He knew Soren wasn’t trying to give him a lecture nor warranted his defensive banter, but it was just a mechanism for the boy. “I guess for my sake I hope so…” he smiled, hoping to lift the mood.  

“And yet I’m sure for some of the people here there are things beyond looks to prove that you’re worth their time,” he argued. The words were slurring more and more, his anger bubbling under the surface while his voice remained quiet. There had to be a different way to get to the top, without stooping so low to impress your elders. Were suits and empty words all that they were supposed to have to offer? Perhaps he was being too optimistic by thinking that hard work could lead you to where you wanted to be.

“Perhaps,” he agreed hollowly, not really understanding what the other meant but not seeing a point in argument. “Have fun trying to show them worth that might not exist,” he muttered, getting ready to stand up but stumbling slightly. He ignored the offered smile as his annoyance with the situation was too strong.

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

grace--raleigh:

Someone appeared at her elbow, and Grace looked over, smiling. “Aren’t they?” She squinted. “Hello, you,” she said a minute later, recognizing him beyond a silvery mist that had descended. The fireflies had turned blue, refracting in the clouds to prismatic flashes. Grace leaned into Soren’s side, for no reason but because she was tired. “Is it very late?” she asked suddenly, sitting up as quickly as she’d tilted over. “Do we—” She remembered, and sighed with relief. “No, no classes tomorrow… but I do like the Tuesday seminar… Maybe I’ll live there?” she suggested to Soren, as the idea occurred. “My desk in that hall has a swivel chair, you know.” She looked over to him. “Where are your birds?”

He hummed in near silent agreement, not bothering to complain when she suddenly leaned up against him. The stars sparkled brightly in the sky, which was a lot clearer than his mind currently was. If he focused he could pick out Orion, but instead he just enjoyed watching them sparkle like a blur of glitter. “Depends what really late means,” he answered with a slight shrug. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had checked the time, and his watch was still set to the wrong timezone. “Maybe just nick the swivel chair, the classroom gets locked after class.” Soren paused and looked over to the trees. “Eating or sleeping. Still refuse to leave the area though.”

[sorentrasksghost-blog]

bazkin-summit:

      When he began to list the things, in the back of his head, that were already there he gaged slightly. “Please stop.” Sergei thought, trying to not think too much on the effects his body might be going through cause of this ‘prank’. -–instead he just wanted to clean up his mess, quietly leave the party, and crawl into his bed wondering why he was such a fuck-up. 

      At the corner of his eye, he noticed the other making more of a mess than not. Was he really okay? Sergei might have been more attentive or compassionate if the two were close yet….they weren’t and with the humiliation he felt he just wanted to get all of this done with quickly. “Appearance mean a ton among this crowd.” glancing up at the other, his appearance obvious that he was making a stand from the obvious formal attire others were sporting. “I can tell you might not care a ton, but I don’t have a lot of chances to be in a crowd like this…” he confessed. 

Soren turned to look closer at the other, wondering silently why the other cared so much. Didn’t that get tiring after some time? “And yet there are things that you have to offer that they’d care more about,” he offered. He paused for a moment allowing the other a moment of near silence in the quietly buzzing room, listening as everyone spoke to each other. Surely his classmates were among the schmoozers that night.

“I like to think that we’re here for reasons other than looking good in suits.” Besides the apparent expectation for them to be perfect simply because they were supposedly the cream of the crop was ridiculous and would only lead to disappointment. “Besides I’m sure they’ve all embarrassed themselves before.”