- Oct 20, 2018
- 56
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Posting Status
- Weekly
Madison really should've been paying better attention to her surroundings. Midday traffic in Manta Carlos City? Not exactly the best thing ever, despite everyone's affinity for public transit. But it was certainly less difficult than dealing with the thing in her car's passenger seat.
"You just ran that red light," the apparition chided, instinctively checking the intersection for any patrol cars.
"Good," Madison spat back, her knuckles white as they gripped the wheel. "Maybe at the next one I'll hit a car too, and end both our misery."
The spirit's mood soured a bit as it wiggled around in its seat. Its mouth opened to respond, then wisely closed it again as its gaze drifted out the window and stared at the storefronts that whizzed by. Beneath the ghost sat a ratty old tome, its cover warped and fraying at the edges, its title smudged and illegible from the one-two punch of time and being misplaced in a flooded cave system for what seemed like forever. Could've been weeks, months, or even years; time didn't really have a meaning when you were naught but a flickering remnant of a long-dead author's soul bound to a stack of paper.
It was certain of one thing, though. The last thing it wanted to do was celebrate its newfound freedom with an impromptu bonfire in the middle of 17th and Weston.
"If I could tell you what was written on the ruined pages, I would," it lamented, a hint of something that was either fear or self-pity lacing its words.
Madison said nothing, but pushed down on the gas pedal just a bit more. She knew the book spirit was right, of course. As long as the pages of the tome were stuck together, she couldn't get her questions answered. They had already established that with an hours-long screaming match in the first place. The author's imprint on the tome was weaker than usual, which meant that it had a harder time unlocking the secrets on those ruined pages. She had a hell of a time acquiring the thing in the first place, but this was only complicating matters further. And Madison hated that. It was supposed to be a quick and easy deal for the tome. The wizard was willing to pay more than she figured for it. But in its current state? It may as well have been kindling. And not very good kindling, at that.
Another five or six (incredibly frightening, for the book anyway) minutes passed before Madison pulled into an open space in one of Manta Carlos City's shopping areas. Her sapphire eyes glanced up at the sign above the door, then at the sheet of paper resting on the dashboard. Yep, this was the place, alright.
Madison had heard through some contacts about a young man who operated a bookstore much like her own, who specialized in restoring damaged goods. She immediately pounced on the opportunity, given how much money she stood to lose if she shipped the book in its current disastrous condition halfway across the world.
She threw it in park and killed the engine. "Come on, let's go," she said as she unbuckled herself and the book and tucked it under her arm.
The ghost stuffed itself back between the brittle pages, but not before delivering another what it could only assume was a biting remark. "Be nice to this one."
The necromancer hissed something incredibly unprofessional, and made her way into the shop.
@Emy
"You just ran that red light," the apparition chided, instinctively checking the intersection for any patrol cars.
"Good," Madison spat back, her knuckles white as they gripped the wheel. "Maybe at the next one I'll hit a car too, and end both our misery."
The spirit's mood soured a bit as it wiggled around in its seat. Its mouth opened to respond, then wisely closed it again as its gaze drifted out the window and stared at the storefronts that whizzed by. Beneath the ghost sat a ratty old tome, its cover warped and fraying at the edges, its title smudged and illegible from the one-two punch of time and being misplaced in a flooded cave system for what seemed like forever. Could've been weeks, months, or even years; time didn't really have a meaning when you were naught but a flickering remnant of a long-dead author's soul bound to a stack of paper.
It was certain of one thing, though. The last thing it wanted to do was celebrate its newfound freedom with an impromptu bonfire in the middle of 17th and Weston.
"If I could tell you what was written on the ruined pages, I would," it lamented, a hint of something that was either fear or self-pity lacing its words.
Madison said nothing, but pushed down on the gas pedal just a bit more. She knew the book spirit was right, of course. As long as the pages of the tome were stuck together, she couldn't get her questions answered. They had already established that with an hours-long screaming match in the first place. The author's imprint on the tome was weaker than usual, which meant that it had a harder time unlocking the secrets on those ruined pages. She had a hell of a time acquiring the thing in the first place, but this was only complicating matters further. And Madison hated that. It was supposed to be a quick and easy deal for the tome. The wizard was willing to pay more than she figured for it. But in its current state? It may as well have been kindling. And not very good kindling, at that.
Another five or six (incredibly frightening, for the book anyway) minutes passed before Madison pulled into an open space in one of Manta Carlos City's shopping areas. Her sapphire eyes glanced up at the sign above the door, then at the sheet of paper resting on the dashboard. Yep, this was the place, alright.
Madison had heard through some contacts about a young man who operated a bookstore much like her own, who specialized in restoring damaged goods. She immediately pounced on the opportunity, given how much money she stood to lose if she shipped the book in its current disastrous condition halfway across the world.
She threw it in park and killed the engine. "Come on, let's go," she said as she unbuckled herself and the book and tucked it under her arm.
The ghost stuffed itself back between the brittle pages, but not before delivering another what it could only assume was a biting remark. "Be nice to this one."
The necromancer hissed something incredibly unprofessional, and made her way into the shop.
@Emy
