Nesia Pertiwi Annisa Ingkiriwang Notonegoro
Survivor
heterosexual.
single.
23.
Played by Derp.
Offline.
panda suit. bamboo spear. rafflesia arnoldii. died twice. speaks "chocolate"
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Post by Indonesia on Aug 18, 2013 12:10:56 GMT -6
She felt so light, she was sure even the weakest wind could blow her away. But in the place she was standing on, there were no visible openings. No open doors or windows. Ahead was an endless, dark hallway, and so is behind. As she tried to recognize her surroundings, she found herself unable to remember anything before she got here. She didn't even know whose house is this... or whether she knew the owner or not. There's no way she would visit a stranger's house...
“You know… even for a spirit, I must say that you are quite pathetic.”
Someone spoke to her. At first it was hard to look for the speaker because the lack of light in the room, but eventually her eyes saw the lines of a tall figure. She approached closer, then abruptly stopped once she saw what was under the hood. It was a skull. And it was shaking its head. It certainly noticed she had moved near it, for the skull leaned close to her face, as if it was curious. "W-what?" she blurted.
“Welcome dear guest!” it exclaimed nonchalantly, “Now, I know that must be experiencing an immense amount of confusion at the moment but I must express the importance of my next instructions, for I will not repeat them and I will not remain to be questioned.”
It said guest. "So you own this... house?" she asked, ignoring the fact that the skull accept no question. She did back away a bit; being scrutinized by a skull made her uncomfortable. And it felt a tad creepy. It was when she realized that her feet didn't touch the floor - she was floating.
The skeleton-like creature stood to its full height and spread its arms wide. Then it bowed, “I am called the First Inhabitant and am titled as such for my twin brother and I are the loyal servants to our Master, the Baudeau Manor."
At this point, she had so many questions running in her head. But her confusion quickly replaced by a shock.
The First Inhabitant continued in a much deeper voice. “You are dead! Is that not wonderful? You have been freed from your physical form and are now a spirit within my Master, but do not despair if this is not fitting for you, for there is a way to once more live! Once I vanish, you will feel the urge to travel and will come upon the great graveyard of the Baudeau Manor. In the spiritual realm, it is far greater than it would be if you were living and it is your choice to find… well, your grave.”
Dead? I'm dead? So now I'm a ghost? And--"uh, I must find my grave?"
“Now, I do realize that your memory is not what it used to be and I’m afraid you may not even know who you are, but…. it’ll come with time!” again, it--he ignored her question. He turned his back, looks like about to leave her alone.
"H-hey, wait!"
He looked at the dumbfounded spirit one last time. "However, I would recommend that you do not take too long to return to your body because, my Master’s great power will begin to… change you if you hesitate. Best of luck and I bid you farewell!” Then he materialized through the wall.
Panic, she followed the creature going through the same wall he had gone to. Instead a hallway, she arrived at an open space full of plants. The Inhabitant himself was nowhere in sight, although she still could hear his laughter echoing in her ears. The spirit - ghost - stared at the garden, trying to find something or someone that could help her finding the graveyard.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 18, 2013 21:47:15 GMT -6
Costume: Templar Knight Weapon: Sword Flower: Yellow Mimosa Deaths: 0
| He had found a garden. Give, it was a small, locked in garden, but it was a garden nonetheless. A variety of weeds were scattered here and there, but Marcello didn’t mind that. It was life and that was better than just seeing a plot of dead and strangled foliage in an already gloomy place. Truth be told, he was a bit curious if anyone had tended to the plants—highly unlikely seeing as how this manor had been abandoned for years—but, how did the weeds not choke out the flowers that were there? If they had been left alone, surely the deadly weeds would have already suffocated the healthy plants; then again, maybe the flowers were just hanging on by the sheer will to live. Though sobering, it was a rather nice and optimistic thought, and something Seborga tried to hold on to. After all, what you think, you bring about. If one thinks negatively, negative things are sure to happen. Marcello, for one, was not quite fond of negative things and thus tried to keep an optimistic point of view. Even if it was difficult to do so at times, he tried.
Regardless, there were weeds in this garden and they threatened to overtake the more beautiful and frail plants, and so long as he was around, the Seborgan wouldn’t stand for that. Smiling softly to himself, Marco took one glove off and sank his fingers into the soil. He realized just how much he missed that touch of the earth and he couldn’t help but think about the gardens back home in the Principality. The olive harvest would already be over by now, but at least the other trees and flowers would decorate the hilly landscape. He sighed softly and pressed his fingers deeper into the earth before inhaling slowly. Ah, that smell of damp, turned earth…he wanted to just lay down here and keep his hands in the dirt and smell the soil. The sun’s mild warmth, though its actual golden body was eclipsed by the height of the manor, was also a welcome addition against the coolness of the turning season and the chill that the establishment itself seemed to harbor.
Marcello allowed his eyes to lid slightly as he pulled his hand away and began to tug at a few of the weeds and pry them loose from his belli fiori. A soft hum built in his throat as he worked and became partially lost in his own thoughts—thoughts of home. He would love nothing more than to be there right now, resting against a tree or cooking up a special meal. The Principality shook his head. He was already somewhat tired and relaxed, he didn’t need to make himself hungry as well.
Snap. Straaaaaain. SNAP! POP!
One by one a few roots popped loose from the earth and were set aside. He paused only momentarily as a chill ran down his back. He felt he was being watched by something…that or the breeze had picked up. Either was a very likely cause.
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OoC: --- made by FLOU of OTE. Severely edited by Iso/Ducky
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Nesia Pertiwi Annisa Ingkiriwang Notonegoro
Survivor
heterosexual.
single.
23.
Played by Derp.
Offline.
panda suit. bamboo spear. rafflesia arnoldii. died twice. speaks "chocolate"
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Post by Indonesia on Jan 19, 2014 11:04:32 GMT -6
Everything the skull had said before was too much for her. The ghost only remembered that she had to find her grave soon or something bad would happen to her. She held her head in her hands, leaning against the wall. Where should she begin her search if she knew absolutely nothing about herself? She stared down. The fluffy clothing she was wearing didn't provide much clue either, other than it might not be an everyday outfit.
Feeling a tad frustrated, the ghost floated around. She paid little attention to her surroundings, lost in her own thoughts as she tried to recall her memory. How did she die? Why her spirit was still here and have to return to her body, instead of being sent into the underworld? She knew that death wasn't supposed to work like that. According to her knowledge, now her buried body must be suffering from tortures or enjoying comforts delivered by the angels of underworld. That wasn't a quite pleasant thought, but at least she did know something. The ghost shivered, rubbing her ethereal arms.
Now, where was she again? She gazed upon the dimly lit ground and withered plants. This must be a garden. As far as her eyes could perceive, everything was looked dead. There were some bushes too. Thinking that a grave might be hidden underneath, she straightened her back and slowly floated through them. She found nothing but cold soil and wilting roots, but seeing her ghostly stomach went through things amused her. Clearly she couldn't do this when she was alive. A soft giggle escaped her lips.
Then the ghost realized that she wasn't the only person in the garden. There was a crouching figure not far ahead; their back was facing her so she couldn't see what they were doing. She approached the person, briefly brushed past the shoulder. It was a man; he was busy picking off weeds. Seeing the state of this place, the ghost didn't expect that there was someone who did care about those flowers.. She crouched down before him, her chin rested on her palms as she observed him. He dressed like a swordsman. A guard, perhaps. Compared to the skull from earlier, who claimed to be the Manor's servant, this man's appearance was far from frightening. He was rather good-looking; definitely of European descent. Maybe he could help her looking for her grave?
Sadly her hope was instantly crushed when the man didn't return her whispered greeting. He continued doing his work without even recognizing that she had been staring at him for a few minutes. She made her body as solid as she could and tried waving her hand before him. Still no response.
Huffing, the ghost began to pick weeds around her feet. Certainly he would notice them uprooted from the ground, right? So she kept working until there were no more weeds that she could reach without moving from her place. "Hey," she greeted him again; this time louder. She rose and cleaned soil from her nails. "I don't know if you could see me or not. But can you hear me? Please say yes..." she added, half-pleading. "I have something important to do and I hope you can help me."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2014 20:21:02 GMT -6
Costume: Templar Knight Weapon: Sword Flower: Yellow Mimosa Deaths: 0
| As the silence was nearly overbearing, the Seborgan Micronation allowed the small hum that had begun in his throat to build into a song as he worked on pruning the flowerbeds. It relaxed him, to some extent, and it made him feel as if he could be of some use even if no one in his wretched place would truly notice or care that the flowers had been tended. It was a silent, small effort…something that he was rather used to by now, but that didn’t bother him right now. It was SOMETHING. He could DO something besides run around the interior of this place and run into hostile forces—or floods. How had that even happened anyway? A Flood inside…huh. Had to be some sort of magical thingy. How else could it have happened? Things like that don’t just pop up after all.
Marcello shook his head and sat back momentarily to pick at the dirt beneath his fingernails. Using his teeth, he pulled at the tips of the other glove and freed his left hand from it before sinking back down into his working position. “Bella, se vuoi venir~Nel mio più bel giardin~Là coglieremo i fiori~Fiori di gelsomin~” the man allowed his soft voice to wash over petal-clad beauties as he plucked their aggressors from the soil.
“If only,” the mused to himself, somewhat solemnly, “they had more of a smell.” A soft sigh escaped him as he leaned in close to one of the mauve colored flowers and inhaled. The scent was almost nonexistent—it smelled damp…and well he could smell the dirt he had disturbed. Had there been a way to describe how something could smell soft, he would surely apply it to this flower, but other than that, it had no fragrance. It was there. It looked beautiful, but nothing more than that. Just a vision, if one may call it that.
He shuddered a bit as something –like a breeze—brushed over his shoulder. Pausing in mid-chorus, Marcello fell silent and looked over his shoulder. Nothing. His green-amber eyes surveyed the rest of the garden as he rose up straighter and sat back on his knees. “Ciao?” He half-muttered to the otherwise vacant lot. Pausing for a response, he scratched the back of his neck with a sigh and resumed his task.
“Là parleremo deli’ amore~Accanto ai fiorellini~Carezze e baci nostri~Saranno profu--”
The Seborgan’s singing paused again as he caught something from the corner of his eye. The weeds were….uprooting themselves? Marcello could do little more than stare at the scene as it was carried out, but he did feel rather clammy now as a pin-prick of a shiver ran down his spine. Slowly, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, but apart from that, he did not feel terribly ill at ease.
“Hey”
He could barely make out the ethereal, words. They were little more than a whisper in the wind to him at first, but he was slowly able to make out more and more of what the desperate speaker was saying.
“I don’t know if you could see me or not. But can you hear me? Please say yes…I have something important to do and I hope you can help me”
“C-che cosa? What-a do you need to ask of-a me, signorina?” he could at least tell it was the voice of a woman. And considering he could not see her, he assumed that she was some sort of spirit—hopefully a benevolent one. Regardless, Seborga would remain on his toes—especially since he had been introduced to a few malicious things already and he would rather NOT take a chance on this person or creature being yet another thing that wanted him dead.
Taking up his gloves, he quickly pulled them back on and rose to his full—and most unimpressive—height. Stumbling back a hair, Marco tried to locate her exact location, but the only clue he had were several weeds laid in a pile that he had not created himself. “U-um…What-a is-a it th-that-a you need help with? M-moving on or-a…?” Marcello’s voice trailed for a moment as he awaited some sort of reply. “C-can-a you make-a yourself visible at-a least?” He gave a soft smile, hoping it would set the invisi-creature at ease and reveal herself. “It-it’s-a much easier to talk e help-a that way… I-a think at least.” There was another pause as he thought to himself. He knew he needed to be careful, but another part of him constantly reiterated that helping a spirit in need could bring good things at times. Besides, sometimes if you didn’t you could get bad luck…or haunted…cursed… Marcello knew enough about the negatives to want to avoid them.
“You-a can call-a me Marco if you want.” He maintained his warm, friendly smile as he slowly extended his arm as if to offer a handshake to the phantom. Whether or not it was in the proper direction of the ghost was up for debate.
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OoC: --- made by FLOU of OTE. Severely edited by Iso/Ducky
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Nesia Pertiwi Annisa Ingkiriwang Notonegoro
Survivor
heterosexual.
single.
23.
Played by Derp.
Offline.
panda suit. bamboo spear. rafflesia arnoldii. died twice. speaks "chocolate"
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Post by Indonesia on Apr 5, 2014 11:42:39 GMT -6
“C-che cosa? What-a do you need to ask of-a me, signorina?”
The ghost was so relieved. She sighed, her expression turned into a smile. She was already prepared to yell if he still couldn't hear her, and to be honest she'd prefer not to do that. If he was already frightened by whispers, she didn't want to know what would be his reaction when she shouted at him. He might mistook her for some violent ghost and ran away. How is he going to help her if he's afraid of her? Being permanently intangible and unable to remember anything was more than enough problem for her.
Her toes nudged the uprooted weed as the man rose. No one, not even its skeletal owner, had bothered to keep this place clean. The building was definitely deserted, unclean and untidy. Yet this man showed that he cared about the place. The ghost assumed that he's a good person and possessed a kind heart. Now she should chose her words carefully.
“U-um…What-a is-a it th-that-a you need help with? M-moving on or-a…?”
She cleared her throat, "no, not moving on. Sort of, but it's not moving on..." her hand raised to scratch her spectral head. "I need to find my grave, that's all." She gritted her teeth, annoyed because the only clue she had now was too vague. What exactly she had to do with her grave? Maybe she needed to dug her body out. "I'd really appreciate it if you're willing to help me. I promise I will not forget your help if we succeeded." Showing good intentions and promise of a reward are good in negotiation. The ghost blinked, unsure how such knowledge existed in her memory. But she didn't mind it. A small piece of memory is better than none.
“C-can-a you make-a yourself visible at-a least?” The man smiled, but it was slightly forced; she could see it. Ah, how frightened he was. “It-it’s-a much easier to talk e help-a that way… I-a think at least.”
He's right. "I agree, but... even though I'm able to pull the weeds out," she gestured with her toes again, "it seems you still can't see me." She held her hands high, palms facing the man. Her forehead wrinkled as she focused and tried to make her hands visible to him. She suddenly realized that he would see a pair of hands floating before his face. That might scare him further. Feeling guilty, she muttered her apology and lowered her hands.
Much to her surprise, he held out his hand, as if he was going to shake her hand. “You-a can call-a me Marco if you want.”
"M-Marco," she repeated, rolling her R's on the tip of her tongue. She slowly clasped his extended hand in hers, careful not to surprise him. "Sorry, but... I don't have a name. Or I'm just unable to remember it for now." The ghost released his hand, "I... I don't know what to call myself, Marco."
She gazed at their surroundings. "Have you seen a grave around here?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2014 0:37:58 GMT -6
Costume: Templar Knight Weapon: Sword Flower: Yellow Mimosa Deaths: 0
| "No, not moving on. Sort of, but it's not moving on... I need to find my grave, that's all. I'd really appreciate it if you're willing to help me. I promise I will not forget your help if we succeeded."
Seborga furrowed his brows and titled his head as he looked to the voice. He didn’t altogether mind helping—not at all. It was important to do that sort of thing after all… spirits needed to rest regardless of what it had to do to ‘move on’. However, the fact she couldn’t find her grave was…well it spelled out that something malicious had probably happened. If she died naturally, she’d know where her body and grave was, but if it was moved or if her spirit had been blocked for whatever reason. That is when things could get crazy… Or that’s what Marco had learned from watching all of those supernatural horror movies a while back with Sealand and a few of the other micros. But he supposed that did make some sense—it did in his mind.
“S-sci. Of-a course I’ll-a help you, sigorina. It’s-a the least I could do, no?” he gave a soft smile. If he could have a spirit on his side, then…then that’s one thing that’s not part of this physical realm that might could help him. They could do more things than he could and so he certainly wasn’t opposed to gaining this one’s favor.
Marcello nodded some with her next words and simply waited for a few moments until she decided to do whatever exactly it was she was planning to do—which he hoped wouldn’t be anything malicious, but she seemed friendly enough.
As a pair of hands suddenly manifested in front of his face, Marco’s eyes widened with surprise and he pulled his head back, but then shook his head dismissively to the apology and assured it with a small smile it was fine. “Sci, Marco,” his grin broadened as the cold, wispy hand came in contact with his. Undoubtedly, he felt a bit of a chill, but he was not entirely perturbed by the prospect of shaking hands with this spirit. Something about it felt…perfectly fine.
"Sorry, but... I don't have a name. Or I'm just unable to remember it for now I... I don't know what to call myself, Marco."
“Oh…” He looked to the hand as it released his own. “Hortensia,” he thought, simply because he had found her in the garden, but then he wrinkled up his nose. That name sounded too unfitting for this spirit whoever she was. Tensia however…shorter and sweeter. He would much rather dub her that in his mind. ”Um.. I-I-a wish I could help you, but ... I could call-a you something in the meantime if-a you don’t mind it so much?” “ If it clicked,” he thought, “then maybe she could remember her true name…but if not, then maybe it would push her toward finding it.”
"Have you seen a grave around here?"
“Eh?” blinking up to her –or where he would guess her face would be—he too surveyed the surroundings and narrowed his eyes a bit as he peered past the rusty gates of the garden. “I-a think...” he took a few steps toward the exit for a better view and leaned over the fence some to look around the rest of the vast courtyard. “..I-a could be wrong... When-a I was coming in there-a was a chapel sci? But-a on-a the opposite side there-a was another fenced in place that-a looked like-a it might be a private cemetery or-a something.”
He silently wondered if she was perhaps one of the previous owners or inhabitants of the mansion that had somehow died once the building became corrupted with evil—or if the evil had always been there and she had been unlucky enough to fall victim to it. He stretched out his arm, pointing to the opposite corner of the courtyard and looked over his shoulder back at where she was supposedly standing…er hovering..? “That-a should be it right-a over there un-a-less I’mma mistaken.”
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OoC: --- made by FLOU of OTE. Severely edited by Iso/Ducky
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Nesia Pertiwi Annisa Ingkiriwang Notonegoro
Survivor
heterosexual.
single.
23.
Played by Derp.
Offline.
panda suit. bamboo spear. rafflesia arnoldii. died twice. speaks "chocolate"
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Post by Indonesia on Jun 9, 2014 2:12:50 GMT -6
The ghost sensed Marco's hand fidgeted a bit, clearly a sign that he'd rather not to touch her hand. It hurt her feelings a little, but if their positions were exchanged, she might feel the same. A contact between the living and the dead wasn't a common occurrence. Therefore, it was normal to be afraid.
”Um.. I-I-a wish I could help you, but ... I could call-a you something in the meantime if-a you don’t mind it so much?” the human asked.
"A temporary name...?" The ghost hovered above the dying grass, thinking. He looked sincere and serious about his question. Of course she would prefer her true name, her real name, but it was stolen right when her last breath escaped her lungs long ago. Being nameless made her feel worthless and not special. It's hard to tell her apart from other ghostly creatures who roamed the estate. She wasn't vile and wicked like them. A name certainly would help her distinguish her own self, reminding her that she was not a mere ghost. She suddenly realized that the human here must be confused about how to call her too. The ghost hovered to his side and smiled, "yes, a name would be nice. Do you have any suggestion, Marco?" If she remembered who she was before her death, she'd be able to make a name from her memory.
“..I-a could be wrong... When-a I was coming in there-a was a chapel sci? But-a on-a the opposite side there-a was another fenced in place that-a looked like-a it might be a private cemetery or-a something.”
She followed him closely, eyeing the direction Marco pointed. They arrived at the edge of the garden. "What is a 'chapel'?" she inquired, "what does it look like? And where is the cemetery?"
Marco turned, his eyes weren't really focused on one spot. She had forgotten he still couldn't see her. He pointed a finger and spoke, "that-a should be it right-a over there un-a-less I’mma mistaken.”
"Let's go look together then," she hovered past his shoulder, telling him which direction she's going. They passed more dying plants and rusty iron fences. Eventually, a building came into their view. It was small, and looked as abandoned as the rest of the manor. Yet the ghost stopped behind the fence, feeling strange.
That building felt... evil. Perhaps there were vile creatures residing inside? The ghost had no idea how to find it out without approaching the building even closer.
"A-are you sure this is the chapel? It's scary..."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 5, 2014 21:51:16 GMT -6
Costume: Templar Knight Weapon: Sword Flower: Yellow Mimosa Deaths: 0
| “Mhm!” Marco couldn’t see her hovering over the grass or any thoughtful look that her face might have taken, so all he had to go on was her tone of voice. From it, he could tell she was at least interested at first and didn’t shoot it down right away, and that made him smile a bit more as he straightened up and cast another glance about the yards.
"Yes, a name would be nice. Do you have any suggestion, Marco?"
Perking up yet again, the Seborgan nodded firmly. “Um… well-a I have one or two, but-a I don’t know if you’ll like them.” His shoulders rose and fell in a short shrug as his hand moved around to rub at the back of his neck with a thoughtful hum. “Tensia? I-it’s-a short for Hortensia, but-a it sounds a lot more-a fitting for you, bella—it’s-a shorter and-a sweeter! Aha~” he let out a small chuckle at that and nodded. “Or um… m-maybe if you don’t like that then-a I can think of something else?” He gave her a nervous smile at that.
When asked about the chapel, Marcello tilted his head a bit and furrowed his brows. “You-a don’t know what a chapel looks like…?” It was such a common sight for him that he often forgot others may have never come across them—especially if they were from other parts of the world. He bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of a way to explain it to her. “I-.. it’s-a where you got to-a worship God, no? Well... the-a Christian God at least. Some-a-times, they have stained glass windows depicting stories and-a stuff. It’s-a like a mini-cathedral I-a guess you could say?” Again, the Micronation shrugged as they moved forward.
"Let's go look together then."
Keeping a slower pace for the ghost to drift alongside him, he was rather glad that he could at least feel the cold spot her presence created and know where exactly she was for once. Had she been a bit more corporal, it would have been safe to assume that the Seborgan would have either tried to hold her hand or wrap an arm around her as they walked, but all he could do in this instance was cast a cursory look over at her from time to time. As he took a few more steps forward, Marcello couldn’t feel the lady ghost hovering near him any longer and he paused, resting a hand on the fence and looking back.
"A-are you sure this is the chapel? It's scary..."
Marco clenched his jaw and beheld the chapel a second time. It did have a somewhat off-putting aura about it—probably because it had fallen in such disrepair and because the courtyard in which it resided was just as vile as that of the floors of the manor itself. “Sci… I-a think it is,” he nodded and exhaled sharply. “Aha… i-it’s definitely seen-a better days, no? It-a looks like-a it was burned down, but-a the cemetery is-a nearby. Or-a at least they usually are nearby the chapels.” “Or in them,” he thought silently to himself as he let surveyed the damage. Burned or no, perhaps he would return to it later since it was supposed to be a holy site; he could take a moment to pray at the very least.
Without truly thinking, he held his hand out to the side as if wishing her to step forward and take it. That chivalrous nature left in him from the knights wanted to ensure that she was safe and unafraid—regardless if she was a ghost or not. Besides, she was able to hold his hand before so…maybe she could again. “I-a see the cemetery on-a the other side behind-a that gate in the corner. I’ll-a go with you, don’t worry.” The brunette looked over his shoulder as a small reassuring smile spread over his features. “We’re-a almost there and we won’t have to go into-a the chapel or anything, va bene?” Once she took his hand or at the very least came closer (he would be able to tell via the cold spot that accompanied her), he would start moving again, but this time, towards their goal.
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OoC: --- made by FLOU of OTE. Severely edited by Iso/Ducky
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Nesia Pertiwi Annisa Ingkiriwang Notonegoro
Survivor
heterosexual.
single.
23.
Played by Derp.
Offline.
panda suit. bamboo spear. rafflesia arnoldii. died twice. speaks "chocolate"
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Post by Indonesia on Jul 18, 2014 2:29:26 GMT -6
“Um… well-a I have one or two, but-a I don’t know if you’ll like them.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Tensia? I-it’s-a short for Hortensia, but-a it sounds a lot more-a fitting for you, bella—it’s-a shorter and-a sweeter! Aha~”
The ghost hovered mid air, head tilted slightly to the side."What is Hortensia?" she repeated the word several time, feeling how every syllable formed in her mouth. "Ten-si-a.. ten-sha... ten-sia. Hmm..." she rubbed her chin.
“Or um… m-maybe if you don’t like that then-a I can think of something else?” Marco offered, maybe taking the fact that she didn't immediately accept his suggestion as a refusal.
"Tensia is fine," the ghost finally said. "It feels somewhat... hmm, I feel a bit familiarity with that word. So, I guess until I learn my true name you can call me Tensia." She turned to face Marco and smiled widely, even though she was sure he still barely able to see her. A feeling of relief lifted some weight off her shoulders, and suddenly she felt even more lighter as they continued their journey.
“You-a don’t know what a chapel looks like…?”
Tensia stared at him, blinking. "I... I don't remember. Maybe I've seen it before, maybe I haven't. I don't know." If her own name was unknown to her, then how she was expected to remember some other things? From the way he spoke, apparently a chapel was something that Marco saw often.
“I-.. it’s-a where you got to-a worship God, no? Well... the-a Christian God at least. Some-a-times, they have stained glass windows depicting stories and-a stuff. It’s-a like a mini-cathedral I-a guess you could say?”
"Stained glass?" Tensia nodded at his explanation. "Yes, I think I remember a little about those glass. I'll make sure to look for it." And she couldn't wait to get her identity back too.
The small building in front of her was nowhere near the image of chapel Marco just told her. It was abandoned, and weeds grew everywhere. The glass windows - stained or not - were shattered. The interior seemed to be dark.
"Yes, I think we better not to enter this place," the ghost muttered before turning towards the gate he mentioned. Tensia didn't check if Marco was still behind her when she passed the first grave, whose tombstone was so weather worn, causing the inscriptions to be unreadable. She went to check the second grave, and the third, and the fourth, yet none of the names looked familiar to her.
Tensia looked one last time behind her shoulder, then she proceeded to go further into the vast graveyard. She couldn't see Marco with all the mist...
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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2014 19:37:12 GMT -6
Costume: Templar Knight Weapon: Sword Flower: Yellow Mimosa Deaths: 0
| "What is Hortensia?"
Marco perked up a bit with the question and smiled softly as she tested the name on her tongue. By the looks of it, she seemed… well at least she wasn’t completely put off by the name itself. His smile grew wider the second she agreed to be referred to as that, claiming that it did indeed have a bit of familiarity to it. Nodding, he put a bit more of a spring in his step.
“Well um. Hortensia… it’s-a said to maybe be derived from an old word that-a means ‘garden’. I-a thought since that’s-a where we met, it-a was only fitting no?” A nervous smile and a chuckle took over his features as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a bit silly now that he thought of it, but at least he hadn’t called her some name of a flower… which he was initially tempted to do. Then again he didn’t completely escape that route—but she didn’t have to know that Hortensia was another name for a hydrangea. Haha… oops. “But um, i-it-a was also the name of a Roman heroine,” he added quickly.
Walking past the chapel, he gave a soft hum and a nod as he shrugged a little. “It’sa definitely pretty that’s-a for sure… well um, the glass I mean. And-a when the sun goes through them,” he sighs softly and happily, recalling just how it looked in the cathedrals back home, “it’s-a almost magical, really. Ethereal, even. But-a, we have somewhere to-a go, no?” He cut his eyes to the side where she had taken to floating, even if he still couldn’t see her before moving along toward the Graveyard—their ultimate destination.
As he moved into the gate, the cold over his shoulders seemed to shift and dissipate—as if the female phantom had left him. “Tensia…?” He inquired softly looking around as the mist started building around him. “Um… T-.. did-a you find it that quickly already?” Marcello hadn’t heard her speak so he could only assume she had found the grave and returned to it. Still, there was something peculiar about these graves. Some seemed… fresh? How and why would people be buried here if the manor was defunct? There were also flowers upon them that he hadn’t seen in the garden.
“I-a guess that um… I’m glad I-a could help you, bella.” he smiled a bit uneasily as his peridot eyes darted about the surroundings. Still, ever curious, he pressed on a bit more to examine a few of the fresher graves. Some of them he honestly didn’t recognize and the flowers looked just as pristine as if they had been just cut and set on the graves. The Seborgan cast a glace over his shoulder, expecting to find some caretaker, but nothing save for the mist and some blurred headstones was in view. “That’s just a little creepy…” he shivered a bit and shook his head as he let one hand come to rest on the pommel of his sword.
As he slowly waded through the graves—some empty and some full—he furrowed his brows. The deeper he went, the more his gut twisted up into knots and the more the hair on the back of his neck stood up. However, it was only a few steps further that one in particular caught his eye.
There seemed to be two that were side by side (almost how one would expect to find a couple’s grave)… While one was vacant and had nothing written upon its tombstone, the other had a mound of dirt built up to cover its contents and there on the grave was a single flower: a blue daisy. Felicia Amelloides.
It piqued his interests, and his heart went out to whoever had lost what appeared to be a lover, but as he knelt down closer to read the headstone, he nearly backpedaled in disbelief.
Not lovers, but brothers; two halves of a whole.
His chest tightened as his eyes washed over the name and information on the stone a second—a third… a fourth time.
"No... no, no, no. NO.. It...No this isn't right at all it's--..."
Lovino had known, hadn’t he? That’s why he was so reluctant to say anything about Feliciano when Marcello had asked about him.
The Seborgan’s hand shook some as he extended it to place on the headstone and the entire action just seemed to be more effort than it was worth. Secretly, he hoped his hand would fall through some mirage, but no, his hand hit cold hard stone. He couldn’t deny the concrete facts before him this time… all that begging and pleading that the Southern Italian had done to try and get him to leave—it was genuine. Right now, Marcello understood exactly how genuine it was.
Death is real.
Rising unsteadily to his feet, the young man dared not search to see if his own grave lay waiting for him. His heart was aching and his entire body felt tight and he … he was so close to breaking he could feel it, but he couldn’t allow himself to crumble here and now. No. He wanted safety…some sort of safety and he was willing to turn to the closest thing at hand.
Moving back towards the cemetery’s entrance, his head felt like it was spinning and his shaking grew all the worse. His dampened, eyes lifted to the chapel that Tensia didn’t dare step into. He could always find safety and consolation in his churches at home, perhaps he could also find it here. Wiping a hand over his eye, he quickly made his way to the run-down chapel before he found himself on his knees and weeping in the middle of the courtyard.
“Mæ Dîo… mi me ferîo. Mæ fræ—lê o l’é mòrto.”**
**"My God... I am hurt. My brother--he is dead."
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OoC: As agreed, I guess we can call this thread closed!
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