\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/SR Luciana-Tyrao And The Ghost

SR Luciana-Tyrao And The Ghost

        [Thu Dec 19 2019]

In A spacious Master Bedroom This is a simple room in a log cabin. The walls a smooth polished oak, with a dark stained hardwood floor. The bed dominates the center of the room resting before a bear skin rug. The southeast corner has a roaring crackling fire in a fireplace, two large stuffed chairs sit near the fireplace.
It is night, about 25F(-3C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey storm clouds. It's snowing outside. There is a waning crescent moon.

Sitting before the roaring fire in his bedroom, Tyrao is reading the Shahnameh, brow furrowing sometimes as he attempts to decipher the writings. He pauses to rake his gloved hand through his black hair, pausing from his reading to look over to the bed and the pile of covers and furs burying the small blond woman. His focus returns to the book though his eyes grow distant and contemplative as he reads

It's late and the night outside is both dark and cold. Bitterly so. The wind howls in the dark void outside, occasional changes of direction sending spluttering snowflakes like shotgun scatter against the window before it suddenly all goes quiet again. A shadow passes by the window, a shadow that really shouldn't be there, should it? Or was it Tyrao's imagination.

Looks up from the book again glancing to the window, "What was that?" Tyrao murmurs to himself then looks over to the dancing flames and notices the odd shadows the fire casts in the dim room. He looks back down to the book, "This is actually more interesting than I thought it would be" he murmurs again to himself. Flipping through the page he continues to read, looking up a few words into the page to look back to the window curiously trying to see if the flame flickers the shadow there again.

With Tyrao focusing on the window, it takes a few long minutes for the shadows to make a similar pattern to the ones that bothered him before. But it's there. So obvious now that it was just the firelight playing tricks in the night. When he looks back down to the page of the book though there's another shadow there, the silhouette of a figure looming just over the amber-eyed man's shoulder.

Tyrao closes the book and jumps to his feet twisting around. He tosses the heavy tome onto the bed and looks to the shadow, "Fuck sake" he grumbles. "Who, what are you?" he asks backing away from the silhouette his amber eyes wary and watchful of the apparition as he backpedals away from it his knees eventually hitting the bed and stopping his retreat

The shadow, merely a trick of the eye clearly, disappears the moment the book is tossed and the room seems to plunge into a deep, deathly silence. "Coooooooool," a voice coos, a young voice that's not yet broken. POP, a log splinters in the fire, sending sparks showering like miniature fireflies briefly. A shower of blood splatters the wall near the bed, dripping in horrifying slowness.

Tyrao twists back to the fire as the log splinters and pops, flinching at the shower of blood he turns to see it splatter and run down his wall. "Shit going to have to clean that up now" he mumbles. "Who are you, what is cool?" he calls out to the darkness his amber eyes searching for something or anything

In front of the fire, though it's hard to see, is a figure. It's more like the outlines of one, or the shadows that make up the negative space around it that is the only thing that makes it possible to see it at all. It is a small figure, kneeling in the light. Dressed in a faded Thunder Cats T-shirt and jeans that he clearly outgrew a year or two back. "I knew Dad would get me something for Christmas," he murmurs, the sound of glee seeping through the whispered voice of the ghost. "And he thought he could hide it. Pfffftt..." The ghost pulls the lid off an old shoebox, adding, "Coooooooooooool." His eyes go wide before he looks over to Tyrao. "Come check it out!"

Shakes his head as the ghostly figure of a kid appears, "Thundercats huh? I loved that cartoon... Thunder thunder Thundercats HOOOOOOOO!" Tyrao says to the ghostly figure attempting to prove he knows about the Thundercats. He moves to where the boy is, his amber eyes grow distant now losing his focus as a thought crosses his mind. He looks into the shoebox as the lid is removed though

The boy grins up at Tyrao, giving him a thumbs up at his most excellent Thunder Cats Hoooooo, but his attention quickly got back to the shoebox. Inside the box is a pistol. "Wicked," the boy ghost coos again. Reaching in to take it out. He struggles with the weight of it, clearly too heavy to be a plastic BB gun. "It's just what I told him that I wanted. We can go hunting squirrels together on his day off." He gives a lopsided grin up to Tyrao. Brandishing the toy, which it is clear to Tyrao is not a toy at all, wildly in his small hand. "I wonder if I got any pellets somewhere," he says, pushing up to his bare feet.

"Kid wait hold hope hey let me see that huh?" Tyrao says holding out his hand. "I know where the pellets are and I can load it for you, we can do some practice shots out front get you real good for when your dad gets home. Just hand it over real fast" he says in a calm voice his amber eyes full of concern, he knows he can't change what happens he knows what is likely to happen here but something makes him try to save this kid from the fate he fears he will witness soon

The boy yanks the pistol away from Tyrao, waving it about in a way that makes anyone who's been around guns deeply uncomfortable. "No! It's mine! It's my present! I don't got anything! It's mine!"

Tyrao reaches out his hand, "Here let me show you how to hold it properly at least" he says softly and calmly. "Not like that don't wave it around like that. Come over here just point it down at the ground kid please" he says his voice wavering as he tries to convince the spirit not wave the gun about to point it safely. His amber eyes locked on the boy with a near horrified expression as he continues to wave the gun, "Please kid listen to me please"

"Screw you, Mister," the child says, holding up the gun and putting on his very best -don't fuck with me- scowl, brows furrowing. The gun points to the bed, to the blonde who just so happens to be in the bed. In the child's hands it wavers through, the weight of it making holding it up and steady a strain. The boy, closes one eye, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Amber eyes flare suddenly now in rage. Tyrao dives towards the spirit and the gun in a vain useless attempt to knock both or either down and to protect Kiarah. "Stop what the fuck are you doing you stupid little shit!" he screams as he makes his move on the ghost

BANG goes the gun as Tyrao crashes into the ghost. POP goes a log in the fire. A spray of blood goes up against the wall behind the bed. But a ghost is a ghost and Tyrao finds himself with an armful of nothing, stumbling for balance as he overshoots the mark. The ghost is gone. The gun is gone. The shoebox near the fire is gone.

Tyrao looks around and slumps onto the ground raking his gloved hand through his black hair, "That was... why" he mumbles to himself. He looks to the bed and Kiarah to ensure she is okay. Then stares into the fire, "I will never all this to happen, never" he swears to himself his eyes distant and haunted as he watches the wood burn in the fire.

A look over Kiarah ensure that she is completely unscathed and a glance over his shoulder reveals that the wall is suddenly free of any blood splatters. The wind picks up again, tossing snow against the windowpane. "Cooooool," a small voice coos as Kiarah stirs in the bed. Or was it the wind outside. POP goes a log in the fire. POP. BANG. And then there is nothing but silence.