Encounterlogs
Calistas Odd Encounter Sr Aristotle 240718
One sweltering evening, Calista experiences a strange and chilling interruption to her quiet reading beside her sleeping partner in their seaside cabin. As the oppressive heat seems to magnify, the flickering lights herald the appearance of a sorrowful spirit, fixated on a past tragedy. Despite the eerie chill and an overwhelming sensation of sadness that fills the air, Calista, driven by compassion, decides to address the ghost, attempting to coax it from the bedroom into a space where she can understand and help it find peace. Calista's initial attempts are met with an eerie blend of sorrow and hostility from the ghost, manifesting through objects being thrown and a palpable coldness that slashes through the humid room. Yet, her unwavering willingness to assist leads the ghost to follow her, albeit with a mournful wail and erratic movements that disturb their surroundings, into the living room.
Calista's encounter with the spirit evolves as she earnestly seeks to understand and alleviate its pain. She listens to its fragmented tales of betrayal, loneliness, and abandonment, responding with empathy and a gentle reassurance that it is no longer alone and can find peace. Calista's efforts to connect with the ghost, to offer it a glimpse of light and warmth in its cold, dark existence, gradually shift the spirit's demeanor from one of rage to a cautious hope. As she speaks words of comfort, promising to remember the spirit so it won't be forgotten, Calista performs a quiet, heartfelt ritual that helps the ghost move on, laying its burden down at last. The room brightens slightly from its presence diminishing, the oppressive atmosphere lifting, leaving behind only the stifling heat of the night and the memory of the encounter. With the spirit's sorrowful chapter concluded, Calista returns to the comfort of her bed, seeking solace in the familiar presence of her partner after the emotional ordeal, the cabin returning to its quiet normalcy save for the memory that now lingers with Calista.
(Calista's odd encounter(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Wed Jul 17 2024]
In an elegantly cozy bedroom of a seaside cabin
The bedroom is a calm oasis of old world charm containing soft and lush textures, natural woods, and furnished with antiquities. A bay window that contains a window seat and shows a view of the beach. Double-layered curtains that look like natural linen and lace adorn the window and some potted hanging ivy dangles from a plant holder, swaying in the sun that it gets from the window. The walls are painted a serene sage green and there is no harsh overhead lighting to be found - only that which is emitted from brass lamps on the bedside tables.
A king-sized canopy bed takes up most of one end of the room along with two bedside tables and a dresser is off to the side behind a painted lacquer screen, creating a little dressing nook. The floor is dark wood with pretty forest green rugs except for a square made of granite tile upon which sits an old-fashioned wood stove that has a small box next to it usually kept full of firewood.
It is after dusk, about 102F(38C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
OOC: Hello! Thank you for accepting! :) Go ahead and emote what you were doing and we'll get started!
Calista had been just laying in bed, lounging in her night clothes while reading an e-book on her phone next to her sleeping partner. She doesn't seem overly sleepy though - just enjoying a quiet night at home and a new book she got recommended by a friend.
The heat is one of the first things one would notice in Haven, not mitigated by nightfall - or rather, the approaching nightfall. It is quiet outside, and as Calista rests beside her partner, the only thing that breaks the silence thus far are the quiet snores and deep breathings of a blissful slumber. The book she reads is enjoyable enough, though the temperature is something that leaves the woman feeling a bit stuffy. The lights in the room flicker a touch - nothing too outlandish, but it does cause shadows to flicker and dance and lengthen around the room.
Calista looks up from her book with small annoyance at the room just in general. It's just so hot all the dang time. The lights flicker a little bit and she pulls her brows together in thought.
Slipping from the bed, she pads over to a vent in the floor and puts her hand overtop of it to test if there's even any air coming through from the AC or if the power is all janky on that end as well.
With her hand over the vent, Calista can feel... nothing. No air flow. As she waits for anything to stem from it, the lights flicker again, and they start to hum like low insects. Those same shadows previously cast begin to rise again, and with it comes the slight sensation of being watched. Not out of the ordinary, of course, given her partner is in the room. Perhaps they've stirred? Regardless, the air from the vent remains stagnate as the lights continue to flicker and buzz.
Calista stands up from the vent slowly and then whirls around to look at the bed where her partner lays. No movement from him. Typical really. Sleeps like a log that one. Says the pot to the kettle.
Now, there's that eerie feeling of something not quite right settling over her body. "Who's there?" she asks suddenly to the room. Her voice is soft enough not to be jolting but confident enough that she wants to sound... well, confident.
There's a sudden chill that fills the room at Calista's questioning. It does not come from the vent she stands near more than it simply appears. The temperature drop is noticeable, and abrupt - to the point that it stings the skin and already prompts every breath to be visible as it escapes the lips. From the corner of her eye, Calista can spot figure beginning to take shape. It's difficult to see clearly, though, as every time her eyes try and lock it down it seems to vanish. But there's something here - one can be certain of it. It's a translucent shape that radiates some type of sorrow, and it weighs down the air with its presence alone.
Calista backs herself towards the bedroom door which is nearby the vent and slowly turns the knob to open it a crack. "Why don't weeee... come out here?" she suggests slowly and calmly with only one darted look afforded to her partner on the bed. She slips part way through the door, ever so slowly trying to lure the spirit with her to the next room over - the living room. She shivers involuntarily from the spike of icy temperature in such opposition to the stifling heat. "Come with me," she adds soothingly to the sorrowful presence, trying to entice it.
The ghost's hollow eyes follow Calista's movements, its form flickering as it seems to contemplate her suggestion. The room remains cold, the spirit's sorrow palpable in the air. Suddenly, the ghost's expression shifts, anger mingling with its sorrow. With a low, mournful wail, the spirit lashes out, causing objects in the room to rattle and shake. The air grows colder still, a biting chill that cuts through Calista's composure. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the ghost begins to glide towards her, its movements erratic and agitated. As Calista moves into the living room, the ghost follows, its hostility evident in the way it disturbs the environment around it. The oppressive atmosphere from the bedroom lingers, trailing behind the spirit like a shadow. The ghost's presence grows more distinct, its features more defined, as it focuses entirely on Calista, a mix of sorrow and rage in its eyes that break away only long enough to regard the sleeping partner in the bed still.
Calista tries to make out the features of the spirit as best she can without staring it down. She takes very slow movements into the next room, the goose pimples on her arms rising in protest against the cold air and the heavy blanket of bone chilling sorrow that surrounds her. "What do you need?" she asks softly to the being that hovers near her, oscillating between sadness and anger - agitating the very physical world around it with these intense feelings. "I can help you. It's what I'm good at, okay? I like to help. You've... come to the right place." She's gambling, maybe. But then again - compassion or stubbornness may be the top tools in Calista's box.
The ghost's form flickers, its features becoming clearer as Calista addresses it. The spirit seems to waver between its anger and sorrow, its ethereal body pulsing with a cold, mournful energy. Objects in the living room tremble slightly, reflecting the ghost's inner turmoil, and occasionally some would fly towards Calista, as if she were the cause of her distress. Its eyes, hollow and filled with a deep, unending sadness, lock onto Calista's. The ghost's voice, faint and echoing, emerges from the silence, "Betrayed... alone... forgotten..." Each word carries the weight of its tragic past, resonating in the air like a haunting melody. The spirit's anger seems to simmer just below the surface, but Calista's words of compassion and willingness to help begin to have an effect. The room remains cold and tense, but there is a slight shift in the spirit's demeanor, a flicker of hope amidst the sorrow and rage. The ghost draws closer to Calista, its presence almost tangible in its intensity. "Help... how?" it whispers, its voice a mix of desperation and longing. The spirit's eyes bore into Calista's, searching for any sign of sincerity in her offer. It's features become clearer the closer it gets, no longer behaving like a speck in the eye. A sickly woman, pale and emaciated, like she'd starved to death in her life.
The air in the room seems to still as if frozen by that sorrowful coldness radiating from the spirit.
When an object comes flying towards Calista, she raises a hand calmly and, manipulating the air around her with a practised movement she slows the trajectory in order to take a step out of the way of its ire. Still, she holds no malice toward the spirit here with her when she drops her hand. Only self defense.
"You were left?" she prods, encouraging the spirit to share more of the story with her so she can begin to piece together some sort of aid. "But you're here now. With me. You've found me. I've found you."
Another object goes flying towards Calista just as she slows trajectory of the first one. A vase, small, but slowed to such degree as its caught in the manipulated air enough that it patters to the ground unbroken. Calista's words cause the spirit to scowl, and it's visage flickers in and out of existence. Each spoken word seems to shift between anger, rage, and sorrow, and it makes it difficult to follow her speech pattern or ascertain if she'll fly off the handle and attack once more. "Left... abandonded!" She begins, sorrow to rage and back again. "No one cared... cold... quiet... then dark." As she speaks, the lights flicker. It grows colder in the room. Then, any ambient noises begin to silence themselves, though Calista can still hear herself breathing. It's silent enough that she can hear her heartbeat, as well. And then, the lights flicker. It's as if she were recreating the circumstances of her death enough to force them on Calista, too.
Calista isn't half bad at putting herself into other people's shoes. In fact, she may be too good at it. The cold, the dark, the quiet... she feels it all to well and heavily and she makes a tiny gasping noise of sadness that she cannot help but let escape in empathy with the spirit. "I care now. Look. It's light here. It's warm. Too warm almost. You're not alone any longer either. The others... the other spirits who are at rest. You can join them now. There's no more cold and quiet. Are you not tired?" She asks this gently, soothingly. "Is there... anything I can do for you when you rest? Why don't you rest?" She tilts her head, her countenance almost like a mother's who strokes the hair of her baby child out of its face while hoping they will close their eyes and abandon their stresses.
The ghost's form flickers, its spectral features softening slightly as it listens to Calista's words. A faint glimmer of recognition crosses its ethereal face, caught between lingering resentment and a yearning for peace. "...Light... warmth..." the spirit whispers, its voice carrying a trace of longing. "Not alone..." The Ghost drifts closer towards Calista, the air around it growing less hostile and more contemplative. It echoes her words, as if considering it for the first time. The bitterness in its voice begins to fade, replaced by a weariness that transcends its spectral form. She is tired. So dreadfully tired.
Calista's empathetic words seem to resonante with the spirit, calming its turbulent emotions. "Anything... rest..." the ghost continues, its voice now softer, more resigned. It hovers before her, its presence less menacing and more vulnerable. Her form wavers, coldness dissipating like mist in the morning sun. It peers at her with a mixture of exhaustion and lingering sorrow, as if weighing her offer of solace against the pain it has carried for so long, and only a beat passes before this spectral form begins to bitterly sob.
"No, never again," Calista murmurs to the spectral form that hovers so close to her. She dares not reach out and touch it but she does her best to emanate a steadfast confidence in her words.
The sobbing of the form is almost enough to undo Calista. She presses a hand to her chest trying to dull the ache she feels for this spirit and the cracks through her heart that the heavy pain in the room causes. Still she remains steadfast. "Lay it down. Lay down that burden. I will remember you. You are not forgotten."
The ghosts ethereal form quivers at Calista's words, its translucent features contorting with the weigh of its own sorrow. It hovers before her, presence feeling desperate for release. Calista's words get echoed by the spirit in between sobs, and its eyes reflect the pain it has carried so long that Calista can palpably feel. The ghost lingers, wavering between hesitation and acceptance, before it begins to drift closer, as if caught between this world and the next. Finally, with a sigh that seems to echo through the room, the spirit begins to fade.
The presence of this spirit begins to diminish, leaving behind a lingering sense of grief, but the room itself feels lighter now. The air less oppressive. It gives Calista the chance to take a breath knowing a troubled soul was something she were able to comfort.
The only downside however, is that Haven's suffocating heat begins to fill the room once more.
Calista closes her eyes and lowers her chin to whisper incantations hardly audible to the world - really just the sound of some consonants and her breath as she helps the spirit pass along with her own form of ritual prayer. When she opens her eyes, the spirit is just that - a memory. One that Calista will hold as promised. Her bottom lip trembles a bit with the aftermath of emotions that runs through her. And only when the oppresive heat hits her again and she feels certain she is once again alone does she turn back to the bedroom where her partner still sleeps and crawl back in alongside him - seeking the warm anchor point of his living, beating heart and steady breaths.
OOC: And that's a wrap! Thank you for sharing this time with me. Let me know the closest intersection to summon you to!
Calista's encounter with the spirit evolves as she earnestly seeks to understand and alleviate its pain. She listens to its fragmented tales of betrayal, loneliness, and abandonment, responding with empathy and a gentle reassurance that it is no longer alone and can find peace. Calista's efforts to connect with the ghost, to offer it a glimpse of light and warmth in its cold, dark existence, gradually shift the spirit's demeanor from one of rage to a cautious hope. As she speaks words of comfort, promising to remember the spirit so it won't be forgotten, Calista performs a quiet, heartfelt ritual that helps the ghost move on, laying its burden down at last. The room brightens slightly from its presence diminishing, the oppressive atmosphere lifting, leaving behind only the stifling heat of the night and the memory of the encounter. With the spirit's sorrowful chapter concluded, Calista returns to the comfort of her bed, seeking solace in the familiar presence of her partner after the emotional ordeal, the cabin returning to its quiet normalcy save for the memory that now lingers with Calista.
(Calista's odd encounter(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Wed Jul 17 2024]
In an elegantly cozy bedroom of a seaside cabin
The bedroom is a calm oasis of old world charm containing soft and lush textures, natural woods, and furnished with antiquities. A bay window that contains a window seat and shows a view of the beach. Double-layered curtains that look like natural linen and lace adorn the window and some potted hanging ivy dangles from a plant holder, swaying in the sun that it gets from the window. The walls are painted a serene sage green and there is no harsh overhead lighting to be found - only that which is emitted from brass lamps on the bedside tables.
A king-sized canopy bed takes up most of one end of the room along with two bedside tables and a dresser is off to the side behind a painted lacquer screen, creating a little dressing nook. The floor is dark wood with pretty forest green rugs except for a square made of granite tile upon which sits an old-fashioned wood stove that has a small box next to it usually kept full of firewood.
It is after dusk, about 102F(38C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
OOC: Hello! Thank you for accepting! :) Go ahead and emote what you were doing and we'll get started!
Calista had been just laying in bed, lounging in her night clothes while reading an e-book on her phone next to her sleeping partner. She doesn't seem overly sleepy though - just enjoying a quiet night at home and a new book she got recommended by a friend.
The heat is one of the first things one would notice in Haven, not mitigated by nightfall - or rather, the approaching nightfall. It is quiet outside, and as Calista rests beside her partner, the only thing that breaks the silence thus far are the quiet snores and deep breathings of a blissful slumber. The book she reads is enjoyable enough, though the temperature is something that leaves the woman feeling a bit stuffy. The lights in the room flicker a touch - nothing too outlandish, but it does cause shadows to flicker and dance and lengthen around the room.
Calista looks up from her book with small annoyance at the room just in general. It's just so hot all the dang time. The lights flicker a little bit and she pulls her brows together in thought.
Slipping from the bed, she pads over to a vent in the floor and puts her hand overtop of it to test if there's even any air coming through from the AC or if the power is all janky on that end as well.
With her hand over the vent, Calista can feel... nothing. No air flow. As she waits for anything to stem from it, the lights flicker again, and they start to hum like low insects. Those same shadows previously cast begin to rise again, and with it comes the slight sensation of being watched. Not out of the ordinary, of course, given her partner is in the room. Perhaps they've stirred? Regardless, the air from the vent remains stagnate as the lights continue to flicker and buzz.
Calista stands up from the vent slowly and then whirls around to look at the bed where her partner lays. No movement from him. Typical really. Sleeps like a log that one. Says the pot to the kettle.
Now, there's that eerie feeling of something not quite right settling over her body. "Who's there?" she asks suddenly to the room. Her voice is soft enough not to be jolting but confident enough that she wants to sound... well, confident.
There's a sudden chill that fills the room at Calista's questioning. It does not come from the vent she stands near more than it simply appears. The temperature drop is noticeable, and abrupt - to the point that it stings the skin and already prompts every breath to be visible as it escapes the lips. From the corner of her eye, Calista can spot figure beginning to take shape. It's difficult to see clearly, though, as every time her eyes try and lock it down it seems to vanish. But there's something here - one can be certain of it. It's a translucent shape that radiates some type of sorrow, and it weighs down the air with its presence alone.
Calista backs herself towards the bedroom door which is nearby the vent and slowly turns the knob to open it a crack. "Why don't weeee... come out here?" she suggests slowly and calmly with only one darted look afforded to her partner on the bed. She slips part way through the door, ever so slowly trying to lure the spirit with her to the next room over - the living room. She shivers involuntarily from the spike of icy temperature in such opposition to the stifling heat. "Come with me," she adds soothingly to the sorrowful presence, trying to entice it.
The ghost's hollow eyes follow Calista's movements, its form flickering as it seems to contemplate her suggestion. The room remains cold, the spirit's sorrow palpable in the air. Suddenly, the ghost's expression shifts, anger mingling with its sorrow. With a low, mournful wail, the spirit lashes out, causing objects in the room to rattle and shake. The air grows colder still, a biting chill that cuts through Calista's composure. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the ghost begins to glide towards her, its movements erratic and agitated. As Calista moves into the living room, the ghost follows, its hostility evident in the way it disturbs the environment around it. The oppressive atmosphere from the bedroom lingers, trailing behind the spirit like a shadow. The ghost's presence grows more distinct, its features more defined, as it focuses entirely on Calista, a mix of sorrow and rage in its eyes that break away only long enough to regard the sleeping partner in the bed still.
Calista tries to make out the features of the spirit as best she can without staring it down. She takes very slow movements into the next room, the goose pimples on her arms rising in protest against the cold air and the heavy blanket of bone chilling sorrow that surrounds her. "What do you need?" she asks softly to the being that hovers near her, oscillating between sadness and anger - agitating the very physical world around it with these intense feelings. "I can help you. It's what I'm good at, okay? I like to help. You've... come to the right place." She's gambling, maybe. But then again - compassion or stubbornness may be the top tools in Calista's box.
The ghost's form flickers, its features becoming clearer as Calista addresses it. The spirit seems to waver between its anger and sorrow, its ethereal body pulsing with a cold, mournful energy. Objects in the living room tremble slightly, reflecting the ghost's inner turmoil, and occasionally some would fly towards Calista, as if she were the cause of her distress. Its eyes, hollow and filled with a deep, unending sadness, lock onto Calista's. The ghost's voice, faint and echoing, emerges from the silence, "Betrayed... alone... forgotten..." Each word carries the weight of its tragic past, resonating in the air like a haunting melody. The spirit's anger seems to simmer just below the surface, but Calista's words of compassion and willingness to help begin to have an effect. The room remains cold and tense, but there is a slight shift in the spirit's demeanor, a flicker of hope amidst the sorrow and rage. The ghost draws closer to Calista, its presence almost tangible in its intensity. "Help... how?" it whispers, its voice a mix of desperation and longing. The spirit's eyes bore into Calista's, searching for any sign of sincerity in her offer. It's features become clearer the closer it gets, no longer behaving like a speck in the eye. A sickly woman, pale and emaciated, like she'd starved to death in her life.
The air in the room seems to still as if frozen by that sorrowful coldness radiating from the spirit.
When an object comes flying towards Calista, she raises a hand calmly and, manipulating the air around her with a practised movement she slows the trajectory in order to take a step out of the way of its ire. Still, she holds no malice toward the spirit here with her when she drops her hand. Only self defense.
"You were left?" she prods, encouraging the spirit to share more of the story with her so she can begin to piece together some sort of aid. "But you're here now. With me. You've found me. I've found you."
Another object goes flying towards Calista just as she slows trajectory of the first one. A vase, small, but slowed to such degree as its caught in the manipulated air enough that it patters to the ground unbroken. Calista's words cause the spirit to scowl, and it's visage flickers in and out of existence. Each spoken word seems to shift between anger, rage, and sorrow, and it makes it difficult to follow her speech pattern or ascertain if she'll fly off the handle and attack once more. "Left... abandonded!" She begins, sorrow to rage and back again. "No one cared... cold... quiet... then dark." As she speaks, the lights flicker. It grows colder in the room. Then, any ambient noises begin to silence themselves, though Calista can still hear herself breathing. It's silent enough that she can hear her heartbeat, as well. And then, the lights flicker. It's as if she were recreating the circumstances of her death enough to force them on Calista, too.
Calista isn't half bad at putting herself into other people's shoes. In fact, she may be too good at it. The cold, the dark, the quiet... she feels it all to well and heavily and she makes a tiny gasping noise of sadness that she cannot help but let escape in empathy with the spirit. "I care now. Look. It's light here. It's warm. Too warm almost. You're not alone any longer either. The others... the other spirits who are at rest. You can join them now. There's no more cold and quiet. Are you not tired?" She asks this gently, soothingly. "Is there... anything I can do for you when you rest? Why don't you rest?" She tilts her head, her countenance almost like a mother's who strokes the hair of her baby child out of its face while hoping they will close their eyes and abandon their stresses.
The ghost's form flickers, its spectral features softening slightly as it listens to Calista's words. A faint glimmer of recognition crosses its ethereal face, caught between lingering resentment and a yearning for peace. "...Light... warmth..." the spirit whispers, its voice carrying a trace of longing. "Not alone..." The Ghost drifts closer towards Calista, the air around it growing less hostile and more contemplative. It echoes her words, as if considering it for the first time. The bitterness in its voice begins to fade, replaced by a weariness that transcends its spectral form. She is tired. So dreadfully tired.
Calista's empathetic words seem to resonante with the spirit, calming its turbulent emotions. "Anything... rest..." the ghost continues, its voice now softer, more resigned. It hovers before her, its presence less menacing and more vulnerable. Her form wavers, coldness dissipating like mist in the morning sun. It peers at her with a mixture of exhaustion and lingering sorrow, as if weighing her offer of solace against the pain it has carried for so long, and only a beat passes before this spectral form begins to bitterly sob.
"No, never again," Calista murmurs to the spectral form that hovers so close to her. She dares not reach out and touch it but she does her best to emanate a steadfast confidence in her words.
The sobbing of the form is almost enough to undo Calista. She presses a hand to her chest trying to dull the ache she feels for this spirit and the cracks through her heart that the heavy pain in the room causes. Still she remains steadfast. "Lay it down. Lay down that burden. I will remember you. You are not forgotten."
The ghosts ethereal form quivers at Calista's words, its translucent features contorting with the weigh of its own sorrow. It hovers before her, presence feeling desperate for release. Calista's words get echoed by the spirit in between sobs, and its eyes reflect the pain it has carried so long that Calista can palpably feel. The ghost lingers, wavering between hesitation and acceptance, before it begins to drift closer, as if caught between this world and the next. Finally, with a sigh that seems to echo through the room, the spirit begins to fade.
The presence of this spirit begins to diminish, leaving behind a lingering sense of grief, but the room itself feels lighter now. The air less oppressive. It gives Calista the chance to take a breath knowing a troubled soul was something she were able to comfort.
The only downside however, is that Haven's suffocating heat begins to fill the room once more.
Calista closes her eyes and lowers her chin to whisper incantations hardly audible to the world - really just the sound of some consonants and her breath as she helps the spirit pass along with her own form of ritual prayer. When she opens her eyes, the spirit is just that - a memory. One that Calista will hold as promised. Her bottom lip trembles a bit with the aftermath of emotions that runs through her. And only when the oppresive heat hits her again and she feels certain she is once again alone does she turn back to the bedroom where her partner still sleeps and crawl back in alongside him - seeking the warm anchor point of his living, beating heart and steady breaths.
OOC: And that's a wrap! Thank you for sharing this time with me. Let me know the closest intersection to summon you to!