Riddle Game
| Riddle Game | |
|---|---|
"And if I win, you will be content to go to your rest?" | |
| Players |
Javi enlists Solomon's help -- Solomon obliges in spades. |
If you're going to meet up with someone to try and resolve a ghost's unfinished business, there aren't many places better to do it than in a graveyard. So, that is where Javi had asked Solomon to meet him to do it, in more or less the same place they'd visited the last time. Apparently this kid spends all his time in graveyards. But it's already been brought to his attention that he vibes with weird shit, too, so it tracks. He has asked the other man to meet him quite late (or early, depending on one's point of view), and whenever Solomon gets here, he will find him already in place. Maybe he was hanging out beforehand, who knows. He's currently in the middle of sprinkling salt in the ground, not in a circle but in a somewhat complicated pattern reminiscent of a Celtic knot -- definitely some sort of weird puzzle-shaped thing, with a space in the center. He's got a backpack off to the side, presumably with other stuff they might need, though he isn't looking at it right now. He also looks, frankly, exhausted. He's a little disheveled in the best of times, but usually it's sort of in a cute way that might at least be a //bit// of a style choice. Right now, though, it's definitely 'has not rested in too long.' Solomon isn't adverse to hanging out in graveyards by any means, so he answers quickly in the affirmative. A good ten minutes before the meeting time, Solomon comes wandering in, dressed in his out-of-work gear: t-shirt under a light, soft leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. He also looks underslept. But it's never a bad time to play a not-very-nice prank on someone, so he comes into the graveyard on alert and, upon sighting Javi, instead fades into the shadows. It takes him a good five to six minutes to work his way around, staying out of sight, creeping from tomb to tomb. But finally, he's close enough to stand juuuust behind the medium, and lean forward so he can say low into Javi's ear, "Good evening, Mr. Reyes." For as twitchy as Javi seems to be normally, he doesn't see this one coming. Well, he's focused! So focused that Solomon will get exactly the reaction he was looking for. "Shit!" He jumps, whirling around quickly with his hand clenching into a fist like he's about to try and knock in a head. He was definitely startled, though at least he's quick to react -- and quick to realize who it is, too. Maybe it's because he's obviously tired, but this time he doesn't laugh it off quite as easily as he had in the club. "You got a fucking problem, man," he mutters, though obviously loud enough to be heard in the relative silence of the graveyard. His expression twists with annoyance as he shifts to look down at the lines he's created so far to check that they're still intact. Solomon better not have ruined his intricate salt knot for a //prank//, that's all. Solomon chuckles as Javi jumps, although he falls easily into a practiced defensive stance when Javi clenches the fist. There's even a bit of a sparkle in his eyes, like a big of a punch up sounds like a _good_ idea to him, his teeth gleaming as he bares them. Javi's mutter draws out a real laugh. "More than one," he assures the other man, even as he relaxes. Solomon steps back, careful not to disturb any of the ritual components. "You look like shit," he offers, but now it's sympathetic rather than teasing. "Anything wrong?" Presumably he means OTHER than random bug men sneaking up on him in graveyards.
"Whatever," he replies dismissively, "I'm fucking cute as hell. I could go out right now and go home with someone hot if I wanted. Bet." He resumes pouring the salt, as if he's going to ignore the actual question -- but after a few moments he speaks again, and his tone is a lot less combative. "Haven't been sleeping great the past couple nights," he admits. "Then yesterday I was over on the west side, you hear about that fire over there? There were these kids and they were waiting for their mom or something, just standing there in the middle of it. Me and this girl got 'em home okay but it was pretty fucking close."
"Nah," he says with a shake of his head, looking back up to Solomon now with a softening expression. "None of us did, but to be honest it was just lucky. Did kinda seem like it wasn't no regular fire, yeah. Heard something before it started, so like...I mean, I always hear shit," he continues, "but that girl heard it too, plus some other people. Kinda like a weird whisper. You could tell. Then the fire started. No clue what it was, but yeah. Something not normal." He shrugs, carefully stepping out of the center of the design so as not to disturb it.
"Nope. Kinda tried to keep to myself mostly until now. I mean, you hear things, right? You see things. But if you keep your head down, it's okay." He may be trying to convince himself of that -- and he certainly hasn't been keeping his head down lately, has he? Or not to the same extent, at least. "Dunno about signing shit, though." He pulls his hand out of his pocket, producing a ring which he hands over to Solomon. "Here," he says, "you can touch it. Won't do nothing if you don't know how to call him." It's a heavy sort of signet-esque design, maybe from the 1800s if the other man would recognize that sort of thing. It's quite tarnished, maybe worth something to a true collector but not with any sort of extra-precious metals or jewels involved.
He takes the ring with interest and turns it around in his fingers, examining it with interest. "It's not a bad idea to have people you can call on in a sticky situation, Javi. But it's choice."
He lets Solomon examine the ring all he wants without rushing him; he's caught up in the other part, anyway. "Hm." It's mostly thoughtful, if a bit wary, and he continues, "What happens when people get pissed at you for always calling 'em when you can't give nothing back, huh?" //That//, however, sounds like a joke -- or mostly. "Maybe. Don't cost nothing to hear about it, I guess. Unless it does." Look, he doesn't know. "They can say no," Solomon points out. "And we have ways of measuring favors done and owed. I wouldn't feel particularly comfortable if it were all left up to good intentions." His voice is very dry, like 'good intentions' is something he doesn't necessarily believe in much at all. He weighs the ring in his palm, running his fingertip over it. "Everything costs //something//," he says, after a moment. "In this case, hearing about it means you know about it. And that's it's own cost." "Well yeah," Javi concedes, "but it's probably still fucking annoying." Actually, the longer they talk the more comfortable he seems to be -- and the more awake he seems to get, too, because Solomon's words even draw one of those bright, open grins from him. "Think this is actually gonna work out," he says, gesturing toward the ring. "He'll probably like you. You're both fucking dramatic. 'That's it's own cost,' 'you don't gotta see me again.'" Okay, he paraphrased a little, but the teasing is gentle. "Pretty sure I just piss him off 'cause I'm dumb."
"Didn't say there was anything wrong with it. Just said you both //are// it." Javi doesn't even seem to notice the eyebrow raise, but it might be because he's taking back the ring and moving carefully to set it in the precise center of the salt design. It may be a few centimeters off here or there, but he does a pretty good job. "So he calls himself the Baron," he says. "He's from, like...Victorian? Something. Old." He steps out of the circle and comes to stand next to Solomon again. "I know how to make him show up, but he won't tell me what he wants. He's all like, 'you're not worth my time, foolish child!' Shit like that. Whatever, man. Just tryna help you, damn. You got no time, you're fucking dead." He shakes his head -- he doesn't seem too offended by it, at least. "But sometimes he comes to bug me so I just wanna get it done before I smash that damn ring. He has to come if you whistle for him, I guess 'cause he had a buncha dogs when he was alive and he used 'em to hunt or something. Ghosts got shit like that, a thing they gotta do if you do something. Just like you said, the bane. It's like, the opposite of that. You know what I mean?"
A bob of his head. "Most ephemeral beings have something like that, it seems. A ban or requirement, or whatever. I sometimes wonder why. What force is it that imposes these things, and so similarly across disparate entities."
He shrugs, spreading his hands out wide at his sides. "There's two kinds of...regular ghosts, I guess. The ones that are here the most. The first kind don't really do much. They just kinda moan, and act out how they died. But they're pretty easy, 'cause they just sorta repeat a thing over and over, and it's usually the thing they want. Like the other day, this little kid wanted her blue doggy. So you do whatever it is for 'em and they go. The second kind're more like regular people. They got all their memories and stuff from when they were alive, you can talk to 'em about other stuff and they'll talk back if they want. This guy's like that."
He keeps his voice even, perhaps even hushed, as if he doesn't want to cause any disruption to whatever Javi is doing. "Is there anything I should do? Or, if it goes badly, is there anything I should be prepared for? I understand that some powerful ghosts can possess people against their wills, or poltergeist it up."
However, he doesn't spend much more time on it -- Solomon can see for himself soon enough! "Some of 'em can," he confirms, "but this guy's mostly just mouth. He'll probably try and scare you when he shows up, he always does. Plus he can poltergeist, yeah, but he doesn't really do it to hurt you. He likes to kinda...assert himself?" He pauses, but then nods once. "So just be ready for that. Brace yourself, I guess. He can't get outta the middle there anyway. Guess he loved puzzles and shit, too, so that keeps him in there. Ready?" And when Solomon confirms it, he'll reach up to put two fingers in his mouth and whistle loudly to call the ghost.
Yes, truly a match made in heaven, this one. Or the Underworld. Somewhere. Javi cuts a look to Solomon and shakes his head, but he has to hide a smile. However, that becomes quite a bit easier when it just drops off his face as the ghost responds to his call. The appearance of this ghost is no shimmering, misty warp into existence. It's no slow fade. No, it's like a hammer being slammed down onto an anvil, a resounding **CLANG** that's less a sound than it is a physical force -- or something slammed directly into Solomon's brain. "WHY DO YOU CALL ME, FOOLISH CHILD!" The ghost must have been tall in life -- in death, he's massive, easily towering over both the men. Of course, it's not that hard to tower over Javi, but Solomon is taller. He's dwarfed by the Baron. "LEAVE ME IN PEACE!" Despite his warning, Javi doesn't seem to have heeded it. Or maybe he's just not having a good night. He stumbles back, falling directly on his ass on the ground and nearly knocking his head on another gravestone behind him. He's literally shaking with obvious fear, so much so that he can't actually answer just yet. It's a big, thunderous ghost, and Solomon jumps from the top of his perch when it slams into manifestation, towering over him. His eyebrows go up, and he moves to place himself between Javi and the spectre, although he's careful not to mess up any of the lines that keep the ghost trapped. "I'm quite sure someone taught you better manners than that," he responds, icily. He lifts his eyes to meet the Baron's stare - what there is of it, what with the whole 'ghost' thing.
The Baron pays him absolutely no attention once he sees Solomon. "AND WHO ARE YOU?" he booms, unabashed at the censure. "I MERELY WANT TO REST, BUT THAT ONE CALLS ME HERE INSTEAD. DO I DESERVE NO RESPITE IN DEATH, SIR?"
"Man, fuck you," he mutters, dragging his hand across his eyes again and pushing himself to his feet. "Just tryna help you, damn." He spits out something else under his breath, in Spanish and very uncomplimentary. "//That one// has the power to banish you into oblivion," Solomon says, sternly. "And yet he chooses to try and help you, instead. It's hardly the act of a gentleman to treat someone so poorly." He crosses his arms over his chest and, since the ghost seems to be willing to leave his violence to verbal dunks, moves to one side so that Javi can rise to his feet without the two of them colliding. A quick, sidelong look to Javi to make sure that he is, in fact, all right.
Javi is brushing himself off as he stands -- he does look okay, if still quite embarrassed -- but the Baron's next words have his eyes widening. "You fucking kidding me? That's what you want? That's it? You annoying-ass motherfucker!" He throws up his hands and steps back, perching himself on the gravestone so he can watch. "Shoulda brought some popcorn. This oughta be good."
"Yes!" the Baron confirms, waving ah and vaguely again as if this is of no consequence. "Yes, yes, of course." Of course, Solomon. "But if you lose, then I must insist you take my ring into your care instead. I believe I would enjoy a change of scenery." He's still not looking at Javi. Actually, it's a little pointed, and not in a //completely// dismissive way. Maybe he's more worried about that whole banishing into oblivion thing than he lets on.
Don't threaten Javi with a good time, dude. Any lingering embarrassment is rapidly receding as he crosses his arms over his chest with a smirk. "Oh no," he remarks. "But then I'll miss you so much." The Baron doesn't really reply -- but he does huff, so it's clear he's heard it. "Agreed," he says instead, of Solomon's stated rules. He doesn't seem to be too worried about the man's quick acceptance of the conditions. Maybe he's flattered by it! Who knows. "I shall go first," he announces, and before anyone can agree he launches into it. "Ripped from my mother’s womb, Beaten and burned, I become a bloodthirsty killer. What am I?" With that, he eyes Solomon and awaits the reply. Solomon snickers at Javi's response to the ghost. He quiets to listen to the riddle, and hums to himself. "Iron ore, which is forged into swords and knives and all the tools of war," he responds after only a minute's thought or so. "And for mine..." There's another quiet moment of thought before he says, with perhaps a LITTLE drama, "What is better when it is old than when it is young, and healthier the smaller it is?" The Baron looks a little disgruntled that Solomon has guessed it so quickly, but he moves past it, focusing on his turn. It takes him a little longer, but finally he smiles in satisfaction and replies, "A wound! Very apt rejoinder." His tone is approving, and when he actually sounds happy Javi perks up, too. Maybe he'll actually truly be rid of this guy! He doesn't say anything, though, and the ghost doesn't notice, just goes on. "You heard me before, yet you hear me again, Then I die, ’till you call me again." "Thank you, Baron," Solomon says with a little inclination of his head. This riddle takes him longer. He thinks about it for almost two minutes before he says, "An echo. Classic, but a good choice. Let's see." He taps his fingertips on his arms, then offers, "I can fly but not in the sky. I bid adieu at night and say hello in the morning. I am a part of you, and I follow as you lead. I dress in black and flee the light. But without it, I wouldn't exist. What am I?" This time, the Baron is pleased with the amount of time it takes Solomon, and he nods when the other man guesses it. "Yes," he confirms, "very good, Jessup." Then it's his turn, and when Solomon gives it, his brow furrows. "Hm." He reaches up to tap a ghostly finger against his chin, pursing his lips as he considers. "Very interesting." However, he's sure taking his sweet time to //answer// it. As it stretches, Javi seems to get more and more eager, leaning forward on the gravestone until he shifts enough to stand fully. "Come on, man," he says, "you're taking forever, you can't just sit on it for hours." "Give me a moment!" This time, though, the Baron's tone is a lot more bluster than anything that's going to involve real terror, and it has absolutely no effect on Javi at all. "Hell no," he crows, "you're done! Come on, don't you guys have, like, rules and shit? You lost, man, you gotta go. Goodbye, go to the light, get the fuck out of here!" The ghost takes another few seconds, but he has to concede defeat eventually, and he finally nods. "All right," he admits, "yes. You have bested me. Good work." He's starting to fade now, a lot more ghostly in his leaving than his coming. "Thank you for the game." It's the last thing he says before he shimmers out of existence.
And he says nothing more until the ghost has shimmered completely out of existence. "...is he gone?" he asks Javi.
"Right? He said I 'offended his sensibilities' or some shit like that." Javi shrugs -- again, he doesn't seem to be offended by it. Of course, he's had plenty of experience with ghosts, and probably many of them are not that nice. Maybe they have good reason, though. After all, they are dead. "Yeah, you can help," he continues. "Nothing to any of it now. It's all tied to him, and he's gone. I'll prolly bury the ring or something. Usually do. Maybe I oughta toss it in a dumpster." It's just idle talk, though -- despite the ghost being highly annoying, he seems to have a certain reverence for them. At least enough to make sure he does their 'end of unlife' things right. Solomon gets his lanky ass down on his knees, then, and starts helping to clean up. He does so in silence for a little bit, then says, "It's kind of you. To help them. Particularly when one has been offensive. You could have banished that ghost simply by destroying the ring. But instead, you did what you could to soothe his spirit. Even though he would not thank you for it." Javi seems content to clean with the other man in silence, moving the dust buster around in a repetitive way that might be soothing him a little bit. When Solomon speaks, though, he looks up, and after a moment he shrugs. "Yeah," he concedes, "I guess. I mean, they ain't people like we're people, you know? I know that. But some of 'em..." He stops, clearing his throat and looking down at his work again. "They kind of are. Even if they ain't the same as they were. And it feels bad to just, like...you know. Smash up their shit." He's cleared enough to pick up the ring now, which he does, slipping it into his pocket.
The salt has been cleaned up now -- as well as a little grave dirt, but maybe that can be useful for something later -- and so he puts away the vacuum and zips up the backpack, straightening up with a laugh. "You got a taste for it now, huh," he says. "Next thing I know you're gonna be banging on my door in the middle of the night like, 'Yo, let's go check out the old murder asylum!'" He shoulders the backpack, sticking his hand into his pocket with the ring. "But yeah, maybe. We'll see. I'll let you know." Solomon has passed the first test with flying colors, after all. "I was gonna do that //anyway//," Solomon deadpans. "Nothing like a good murder asylum to get the blood pumping, Javi. Surely you know that." He stretches, and turns in a slow circle to examine the graveyard. When he gets back to Javi, he says, "Be safe on your way home, hmm? And try to get some decent sleep."
He lifts a hand, nodding once. "Yep," he confirms. "You, too. See you." He turns away without too much more fanfare, starting toward the exit. Before he's quite out of sight -- or out of hearing -- Solomon can hear him conversing in Spanish in a very similar way to the other night when they'd struck the bargain. "See? Told you. ...Yeah, 'cause you were a fucking dick about it and you didn't let me know. ..." | |