Written for Hotties Haunting the Narrative on Dreamwidth
Prompt: unexplained cold spots, disembodied sensations of touch, condensation, and other signs a ghost might just happen to fancy you
Title: Whiskey on the Rocks of an October Heatwave
Ship: Misma/Spectra
Fandom: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Word Count: 1,005
Rating: T
Warning: None
Tags: Alcohol, Denial of Feelings
Misma knew that Spectra had arrived before she had actually made her appearance.
Misma had been around a couple hundred of years or so. She wasn’t a fool. She knew all the tell-tale signs of haunting. The cold spots and the ectoplasm leakages, she had seen it all and then some. Even from Spectra but Spectra was unusually restrained for a ghost.
Plenty of the ghosts that Misma had seen in this time of hers… Oh, they were pathetic with the wailing and whatnot. The prophesying of who would be next to die and the routines that they got stuck in as they refused to move on from their grudges or whatever. It got on her last damn nerve. At least Spectra was demure and quiet.
Though therein laid the problem. She was too quiet.
That was annoying in its own way. She couldn’t be free with her feelings, to cry those silver tears of hers over an unfair death and look at her. She was young. She would have had a whole life of hers ahead of her but there was no point dwelling. Besides, life was pretty good here at the office, wasn’t it? These human kicks weren’t half bad considering that half of HELLø LAND was falling to bits and pieces.
Yeah… Misma missed it too but they could go home at any time. She wondered if that was what Spectra wanted to talk about. Why else sit down with her at the bar? Misma would make the joke that Spectra wouldn’t be caught dead in an establishment like hers but that horse had been beaten enough, surely.
“Thanks, I needed that, Spectra.” Misma praised her.
She didn’t even look up from her drink: a whiskey on the rocks, in a wide and circular glass that was short and stout. Not exactly like a teapot but it was good enough for Misma. She took a sip. That was the stuff.
She savoured the slightly sour notes, the way the amber liquid burnt her tongue and made her feel alive. It was great. Once she got past the battery acid and paint thinner characteristics to it, underneath that… This was absolutely the stuff, with ice that clinked and moved about as she tilted the glass up.
Of which, there was condensation where there had not been before.
Today was sweltering. That’s why she wanted to kick back over the bar with something cold but what was with this South Korean heatwave, it would give Hell a good run for its money. As such, the refrigerators around the V&U office were on the frits. The fact that the brightest minds of the century who banded together and called themselves Oracle had also been making things “better” also did not help.
But still, with Spectra by her side… Misma was able to more easily enjoy her whiskey. It was getting colder and colder by the second, the more than Spectre frowned, unhappy as she often was.
“Something the matter?” Misma asked.
She stole a glance at the stoic and spectral princess. She had evaporated out of seemingly nowhere in a perfect seated position. She looked the same old, same old with her gossamer hair and icy stare. She sat prim and proper on the bar stool. It made for quite the unlikely sight, Misma should go and buy scratchies because something was truly wrong for this to happen.
“Does something have to be the matter for me to visit?” Spectra asked. All hoity and toity as she usually did, even offended that Misma would ask.
Misma shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe.”
She took another sip of her drink.
“Hmph.” Spectra intoned.
Ah, damn it. That shut Spectra’s trap. The woman could yap, Misma had heard it for herself but when it came to inter-personal relationships, she was more frigid. Video game characters were a lot easier, being zeroes and ones versus the flesh and blood of people.
Including demons.
Demons like Misma.
Demons like Misma who would really appreciate the company of even some small talk as she enjoyed her drink.
Misma’s brow furrowed. She relaxed over the edge of the bar. She stared at the different bottles ahead of her. Surely there was something amongst them that Spectra could drink if she was so inclined. She liked tea. Was there something that paired well with Earl Grey? That… Misma did not know.
Besides, the concept of hot tea repulsed her in this weather. Maybe there was something that Spectra, herself, could drink on the rocks all the same as Misma and her precious whiskey.
“My goodness,” Spectra abruptly remarked then made a point to bombastically fan herself, “unpleasant weather we’re having.”
“Tell me about it.” Misma complained. Her eyes slid to the window on the far side of the room.
Outside, the asphalt in the streets may as well have been melting. The high rises and skyscrapers, once pristine and polished, also seemed to sweat underneath the uncharacteristically summery October skies. They were wide and blue, beautiful, but at what cost when it had even denizens of the underworld grumbling.
Unfortunately, despite the breadth of topic, Spectra still remained quiet and uppity as she was so often but she gave something away under that coy coolness of a stiff upper lip. Misma felt it. A disembodied touch across her back, even though she was gross and damp.
She knew that was Spectra’s touch, her way of showing that she cared. It was gentle and delicate, it gave Misma all the sensations of bliss and in this heat, dare she say it but… But it was heavenly. Nothing less than divine as it further cooled her down with a tactful caress.
“You remember to stay properly hydrated, understood?” Spectra said.
Misma smiled, “I promise.” she said.
She finished her drink and by the time she set down her emptied glass, frozen with more than just the ice she had put in it, Spectra had disappeared but her love was unmistakeable. As subtle as it was.
