Name: Chaska O'Cuinn.
Nicknames: N/A.
Gender: Female.
Date of Birth: April 4, 1982.
Date of Death: April 5, 2001.
Age: Frozen at Nineteen.
Species: Ghost.
Orientation: Bisexual.
Birthplace: Ireland.
Appearance:
Height: 5'4.
Figure: Slight Frame.
Hair: Red.
Eyes: Pale Blue.
Skin Tone: Ghostly Pale.
Tattoos/Markings: A Scar Directly Over Her Heart.
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The Story:
Dying was never part of the plan, she'll tell you that much. From the time she was thirteen she'd always wanted to be an artist, had an eye for creating that worked well with the fiery Irish temperament she possessed. It was rare that anyone ever found her without a piece of charcoal and a sketchbook, or paints and an easel. She was versatile like that.
A loner by nature, she only ever had one or two close friends. Not because she was disliked, but because she made people wary of her. Unafraid to stand up to someone or defend another. She could be brash at times and on occasion her temper just might get her into trouble.
It was the morning after her nineteenth birthday, after spending an evening celebrating with her family and the few friends she had; that the world as she knew it came to an abrupt and crashing halt. She'd only intended to go for a walk. To watch the sunrise as she'd done plenty of times before, maybe take a picture that could be used as inspiration later. It was an innocent excursion, nothing to be worried about.
What happened afterwards will always be a bit of a blur. It started with a seemingly innocent conversation, just a gentleman asking her for directions whilst out for a walk of his own. In hindsight she'll wonder if she should have seen it coming, should have been more on her guard. But he'd seemed so nice, how was she to know he was into some dark ritualistic stuff...or that she was unwittingly to become the sacrifice needed to fuel his dark spell.
The details are hazy, she remembers meeting him. Remembers their talk and offering to show him the way into town, that's where the world goes dark. As if she'd been drugged. Awakening tied to a table, regular clothing exchanged for a barely adequate white dress. Nothing virginal about this garment. Her mind still cloudy from the drug, it doesn't hit her that she's about to die. Nothing registers but the burning agonising pain that engulfs her ceaselessly. The scream that tears soundlessly from her lips.
She's a ghost, that much she's able to figure out for herself. And over time, she begins to realise her dream was no dream at all. That the man with the pleasant smile and polite mannerisms had in fact actually killed her.
She's had to teach herself how to become visible to others, though this is easier to accomplish with supernatural creatures. Beings she hadn't even believed in when she was alive. Especially the ones who already possess an affinity with the dead, some of them can even touch her as if she were as real as anyone else.
•••••••
She met one such being in a bar of all places, being dead is a lonely existence. At first it didn't bother her, she could do things now that she'd never dreamed possible. Who would have thought walking through walls could be a thing? And how many humans had wished for the ability to teleport, so they might visit a loved one whom lived far away. But as time wore on she realised the downsides of her new existence far outweighed the upsides.
She began entertaining herself by playing pranks on the unsuspecting people whose houses she would come to haunt. Never anything malicious, things such as moving the furniture around the room as soon as the occupant left so they'd come back to find it in different places. Rearranging books so they were in the wrong order, little things that didn't actually hurt anyone. Unless you count that one time she continuously pulled dining chairs out from this one woman's obnoxious son whenever he tried to sit for a meal. Though she's pretty sure that only hurt his pride.
The point was, being dead was lonely. Some might say that hanging out in crowded bars with people who couldn't see you was a pointless endeavour but she didn't see it that way. The rowdy atmosphere, the gatherings of people, for a few minutes they made her feel connected to something again. Plus it wasn't like she couldn't choose to make someone see her if she truly wanted to. She could. She just tended not to. Most didn't appreciate being made to look like they were insane, talking to fresh air. Even if they could clearly tell someone was standing there. Clearly see her.
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Comments
Chaska wasn't the only one who had taken to notice that he was out of place. His clothes for one didn't fit the aesthetics of everyone else. They weren't the clothing that he had been wearing when he had been banished from his home world--that had been nothing more than a set of rags that he had quickly gotten rid of when the chance arose. He had a feeling that the clothes from his homeland would have made him stand out of place even more. There was also his accent to consider--they knew from it that he wasn't native, but they couldn't exactly figure out where he was from. Each came with their own conclusion and one soul decided to just ask. She slid into the stool right next to him, the very one that Chaska had been sitting in. "I wouldn't sit there" He said before the woman could speak to him.
"Huh?" The woman inquired "Are you saving this seat for someone?"
"No"
And before he could say anything more the woman flipped her hair and said "Then I see no reason why I can't sit here"
"The seat's taken" He told the woman. He had no clue whether or not it was. That just felt like the truth.
"No, it's not" The woman started and in truth the rest of her words blurred together into nothing as he toned her out. He didn't do it on purpose, but he was more interested in the invisible figure trying to get his attention. He only felt her attempts rather then saw them. He began to search his brain for possible answers to what she was. The only thing he knew for certain was that she wasn't one of his gods or anything like that--their presence felt more within. The likely answer was she was a ghost, but there were other options--like a soul that got trapped between realms while hopping from one world to another like Lorien was.
"Stop that" He told the presence "It's very rude"
The woman who had been blabbering him the entire time huffed and moved away from him. She wasn't happy. He didn't care. He wasn't going to feel bad for not wanting her company--especially not when he had mystery to uncover.
The portal closed as Lorien stepped onto the other side. There was no need to keep it open--even if he wished to go back. Unlikely given the state of the world. It was an empty world--empty of people that is. The world looked as if everyone vanished the moment that he had stepped through the portal that lead to it. He wasn't saying that his portaling in had any direct link to their disappearance, but that their disappearance happened around that time. He had spent some time trying to uncover the mystery behind it. People don't just up and vanish without a reason, but he couldn't find a cause. He might have uncovered the truth if he stayed a bit longer--he felt as he was on the cusp of the answer, but there was an uneasiness about the place that grew with each passing day. it wasn't just finding everything else but the people intact. He wasn't exactly sure how to descibe it. There was just this feeling of uneasiness that followed him everywhere he want like the eyes of some great monster. One might say perhaps that was the reason why he was so quick to close the portal behind him, but he always made the habit of closing the portal once he stepped through, always held the belief that if he wished to go back he could. Usually, he had no desire to return to a world he once visited. He was capable if he wished. Once he visited a world he could return whenever he wished. He just had no control over the world he jumped into.
The only control he had was, ensuring it was a world that wouldn't kill him the moment he stepped into it. The last thing he wanted was finding himself blown to pieces because he stepped into an inhosital enviroment. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, and allowed himself to study this new world he found himself. It definitly wasn't empty--people rushed around him. He was on a busy street and his eyes darted towards the horseless carriages that whooshed by. This wasn't the first time he had encounted them, and while he knew what they were called he found it amusing to refere to them as horseless carriages. The next thing he did was try to talk to his gods. Hello He said tentatively within his head, praying that this would be the time they answered him and just like all the other time there was nothing. He didn't know why he thought going to a new world would suddenly change the fact they had abandoned him? He knew their lack of communcation had nothing to do with their singal being blocked. They had chosen to cut ties. Their displeasure over him was just too much. They had said he would regret his decision to disobey their will. The thing was he didn't, at least not in the manner they thought. Yes, he didn't like being seperated from his world--his home. Nor did he enjoy finding himself utterly alone within the universe. His gods had been with him for so long that he had forgotten what that felt like--the emptiness of your own thoughts and existence. Even after all this time it was straggering. that emptiness within his own mind where there have been othes.
Even when they had been silent he always felt them there--lingering and waiting. Their constant presnece had became a comfort he had not known he had come to rely upon until it was goine. Shaking his head, he moved towards a nearby bar. He couldn't change their absence now, but he could see the type of liquor that this place enjoyed. The last place had not been that great on booze. He wasn't a drunk by any stretch of the imagation, but the acholol within that place had been so atricious that he felt that he needed to see if this place faired better. He moved into the bar, taking a place at the counter, avoiding the first stool even through it appeared empty. That stool was occupied he told himself. Whether it was because there was someone sitting there he couldn't see or the person had merely gone to the restroom was anyone's guess. There was no drink in front of the seat to indicate that the latter scenerio was the case. "Give me your best stuff" The bartender looked at him for a few moments, as if debating how to translate that before nodding his head and pouring him someting.