[kaminari.denki]

username: 1nkk
name: Nakoma
do they believe in ghosts?: Sure do, sugar. If I didn't, I'd surely be in trouble 'siderin my job is t'speak to those on the other side.. help 'em connect with their loved ones here on this realm.
extras: (optional)

Entering, wip mark

[padaleckii]

username: ~prophecy~
name: pandora storm kadir

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[WiltedLovers]

mark

[dragonstars]

morks
username:
name:
do they believe in ghosts?:
extras: (optional)

[iBrevity]

"" The Blackbird ""
goddess of spirits and sleep, of dreams and decay


Over the millennia she has had many names, but she has always shed them with the particular kind of carelessness that comes only from immortality. She is an omen of death, no matter what the people call her. With the regularity of a banshee she arrives unbidden, a lone figure caught at the corner of your eye that guarantees loss. Her presence is inevitable among the strikingly short lives of humankind.

The mantle of the Blackbird has lasted far longer than any of her previous aliases. She does mind not it -- much of the world has forgotten the old gods, and her true name has gone the way of the first titans. Being called 'Blackbird' amuses her, much as it amuses the common blackbird specimen who sits often at her shoulder. His eyes are rimmed with a shade of gold-brown that is nearly identical to the colors in her dark hair, and when he opens his mouth to speak it is with a flash of an ochre beak.

He lands upon her cloak now, a smattering of thin fine claws catching at the fabric as he regains his balance and comes hopping gracefully up the slope of her shoulder. They're together in the woods, ghost pale birch trees looming above, the acrid scent of chimney smoke hanging gloomily in the frail lower branches. She can see candles in windows from where she sits, and the rapid approach of the distant dark.

"Sefina is here," her bird says with finality.

The goddess stirs. "Why?"

The bird takes a few more steps, until he can reach her feral hair and tug the snarled locks straight.

"Probably for them."

She looks back at the town, at the one house she has been watching studiously for the past two days. When she had first arrived, called here with the same unpleasant gut-punch feeling all death brings her, the three mortals within had seemed curiously plain. The goddess splits her duties with Nausicaa, the god of death and new beginnings, and Sefina, the goddess of spring and shadows. She does not normally need to involve herself personally in such mundane deaths, lured to civilization only by the most exceptional of souls.

Understandably then, it had taken her almost an entire night to understand the relevance of these kids.

The three boys, by all rights still children, are surrounded by ghosts. This is not altogether that strange, as naturally spirits congregate more thickly in the places they lived and died, and cities are frequently crawling with them. But this was unusual because the kids moved between them or, more precisely, around them. They did it without conscious thought, without reaction -- they could see the spirits as plainly as she could, and that realization had been the only thing that goaded her to stay.

"It's not their time," she says, after the silence has stretched thin between them. Her bird does not stop in his ministrations, though he does pull particularly hard at the locks he has gathered in his beak as though in repercussion. "They deserve longer."

Momentarily satisfied by the destruction he has wrought, her bird comes around the front of her shoulder and flutters neatly to the soil between her feet. "It is their time," he says patiently, for he feels the harsh pull of it the same as her. "We should have taken them last night."

Two of the boys are outside now, both black-haired, one crowned with gracefully curved horns and the other a silver circlet that appears to be made of stars. The latter is quieter, far more withdrawn than his brother -- Blackbird can hear snatches of their conversation, but the cohesiveness is lost on her. She gleaned their names the day before and reminds herself of them now: Saranyu, the short one with the onyx horns, and Kisosen, the boy who seems most in tune with the ghosts. The last brother shouts at them through the kitchen window then and this is Malakbel, she thinks. They call each other by nonsensical nicknames, despite the perfectly good names they already have.

As she watches, Kisosen absentmindedly corrects the ungainly stumble of a ghost child that toddles past him. His hand connects with unbelieving solidity to the spirit's shoulder; Kisosen rights the little girl without fanfare, and she goes on her cheery way. Blackbird sighs. She has never seen anything like this, this unnatural connection between the planes. She has most certainly never seen it in three different humans.

"This is them?"

Blackbird half-turns, looks over her shoulder. Sefina stands there, her delicate glass feet submerged in leaf litter, the pastel feathers of her tail flashing color behind her.

"This is them," she confirms.

The rest lies unspoken between them. The boys that are meant to die. The children that I am meant to kill.

Predictably, Sefina answers as though she's plucked a handful of thoughts right from Blackbird's head. "Then why are they still alive, Blackbird?"

The younger goddess shrugs. She can't very well tell Sefina that she doesn't think it is their time yet, because Sefina feels an impending death the same way Blackbird does, and they can both parse the uncomfortable pulling in their guts. Blackbird was meant to have already escorted them to the soul plane, and yet.

"They are interesting," she says finally. "Different."



When Blackbird was still very young and the mortals remembered enough to call her by her true name, she kept company with ghosts. There were fewer people then: she had less to do, and long lonely afternoons to waste. She rarely ventured to the soul plane, where the peaceful dead gathered, but as mortal generations mounted more and more spirits loitered where they had not been invited.

Blackbird, then still Endellion, took to cleansing the larger villages. It was not a job intended for her, but the spirits responded to her better than they did Sefina and Nausicaa combined, and she did not mind the press of their desperate, chilly hands.

She escorted the ghosts she could convince to rest to the soul plane, and lingered with the ones who refused to go. The ghosts were largely unpredictable, sometimes disappearing for weeks at a time, their energy ebbing for a myriad of reasons -- but one spirit proved unusually reliable, and this young boy she knew as Caledonia.

Caledonia had been barely in his teens when he'd died, and kept a solemn countenance despite his youth. He politely but firmly rejected each attempt Blackbird made at putting him to rest, ducking out of her invitations with a sheepish half-smile and a murmured, "I've got to stay, ma'am."

Eventually, Endellion grew curious enough of his motives that she followed him. Caledonia was always coming and going, and was more skilled at becoming incorporeal than many of his peers, so tracking him was a refreshing challenge. Back then, when there were not so many dead, Endellion could feel the particular pull he exerted, and so she shadowed him as he ventured through the woods to an old, lonesome house.

The building was obviously ancient, the entirety of it leaning dramatically to the left. It was propped up on a column of decrepit wood someone had scrapped together, a feat which seemed to defy believably. To Endellion's unsure gaze, it appeared empty.

While she stood among the trees and studied the home, Caledonia disappeared. She looked sidelong at where he'd been, her own silhouette hidden behind a particularly gnarled willow, but could not see or feel him. Assuming that he'd gone somewhere else, she relaxed back into the willow's trunk and waited to see what secrets this house would divulge.

"It's my sister."

Endellion was a god, so she did not startle, but it was a near thing. "What?"

Caledonia nodded towards the house. "My sister lives here."

"Here?" Endellion asked incredulously, and Caledonia smiled despite himself.

"I'm keeping an eye on her," he said, which explained why he was still here. Endellion hummed and then crossed and recrossed her arms.

"You mind if I keep you company for a while?"

His smile broadening, Caledonia shook his head. "I'd love that."

And so it went. Endellion was at Caledonia's side nearly every time he visited the house, watching his sister grow up and watching him grey out. Endellion helped his sister for Caledonia's sake, and although he never admitted what exactly had killed him, Endellion wasn't a fool. She'd noted that the sister, despite her ridiculous youth, lived alone -- and that she stayed far from anybody she met on the road. If Endellion had to guess, she'd bet they had both run away.

As the years went on, and his sister grew more sure of herself and thus started visiting the outlying villages, Caledonia got weaker. Ghosts were not intended to stay on the mortal plane, and certainly not for as long as Caledonia had. It was difficult for him to become corporeal; Endellion, despite her affiliation with the dead, sometimes could not see or hear him for days on end.

It was on one of the infrequent good days that Caledonia told Endellion why he'd stayed.

"The day I died," he began suddenly, prompting Endellion to sit up and stare at him, "I promised her that she'd never be alone. That no matter if something happened to me or not, I'd stay and watch over her. I told her that we'd always have each other, because we'd never had anyone else."

He looked at Endellion with a sad smile, the pained expression aging his young face. "I think I'm about to become a liar, Delli."

Endellion frowned. "I'll figure something out," she said, her voice unintentionally sharp. "You're not leaving either of us yet, Cal."

She did the best she could. She asked both Nausicaa and Sefina for their opinions, and the gods entertained her unusual questions with some amusement. They didn't understand why it would matter to her to keep a mortal soul tied to Earth -- she could always find another human, could she not?

So Endellion asked the other gods, desperate for an idea, and got one from Zefiryn. Queen of the gods and the oldest of them all, Zefiryn did not usually involve herself in such petty problems -- but Endellion's interest in this human soul piqued her own. She listened to Endellion's rendition, nodded once, and said, "It will cost you something dear."

"Anything," Endellion said desperately. Zefiryn smiled.

She explained that should Endellion sacrifice a portion of her soul, willingly part with a piece of her own godhood, she could give Caledonia a second chance.

"He will need a non-human body," Zefiryn said mildly. "Your soul will bind him. But this not something you can take back, Endellion, so do not do it until you are certain."

Endellion already was certain. She blurted a thank you for Zefiryn and then hurried down to the mortal plane, finding Caledonia finally outside his sister's house, a waning smudge of shadows and grey.

"I can save you," she called as she approached. "I can fix this, Cal!"

Caledonia looked at her. He was tired, an unusual sensation for a ghost, and it took him a minute to fully understand what Endellion was saying.

"How?" He asked doubtfully.

Endellion's expression pinched. Caledonia understood immediately that it was something bad, if she feared telling him -- it was something she expected he would not like.

"No," he said, trying to be firm and mostly just managing scared.

"Let me save you!" Endellion snapped, and Caledonia recoiled from her. He knew that such a gift would bear an enormous price, and he was unwilling to ask that of Endellion, even if it meant losing himself.

"No," he repeated weakly.

"Please," she bit. They both heard what she was unwilling to say -- please don't leave me alone. I can't bear to be alone again.

Caledonia faltered. He had never heard Endellion say please, and it cracked the doubt that grew wild in his chest. "Only if the price is not too high," he said finally.

Endellion smiled, her relief obvious. She took both of Caledonia's hands in her own and squeezed, yanking him briefly corporeal. "It is only a little piece of my soul," she said with faux cheer. "It is nothing."

Caledonia did not get a chance to reject her then, for she seized his spirit in her godly fingers and pulled. He lost track of time -- he was aware of Endellion muttering things, aware of a great yawning blackness that he shied instinctively from. When next he was coherent, he was sitting in Endellion's cupped palms.

She smiled shakily at him. She looked wan, and her fingers trembled nearly imperceptibly under his tiny feet. Caledonia's mind, still determinedly attached to the idea of being human, took a minute to orient itself to wings and a narrow gold beak.

"Is this okay?" She asked. Her voice was hoarse, and Caledonia looked up at her with a concerned tilt to his head. Endellion had never realized birds could frown, and she could scarcely stop herself from a nearly hysterical laugh. She could not believe it had worked, no matter how terrible she felt, how much pain there had been in drawing from her own person a piece of her soul.

"I like birds," Caledonia blurted, trying to find something to cheer her, and Endellion bit her lip and blinked back a rush of tears.

"Good," she said thickly. "Good. You're a blackbird now. Zefiryn told me I wouldn't be able to make you human, and I couldn't think of anything else you might be."

Caledonia fluffed his feathers and pecked gently at the curve of her thumb. "A blackbird is perfect, Delli."

Endellion smiled wetly. Her relief was so great she felt momentarily mortal herself. Between her and Caledonia there was a physical yearning sensation, her soul reaching for that distanced piece of itself. She assumed the feeling would not fade, but could not consider that a bad thing. Caledonia would be hers now, as much as she was his. She would not need to be alone ever again.



Sefina studies the boys with unusual intensity, her presence behind Blackbird a heavy, unsettling thing. After a long moment she says, "They can see ghosts."

It is less a question than a statement, so Blackbird doesn't answer until Sefina cuts her with a look.

"Yes," she says belatedly. "They can."

Sefina hums. The silence stretches to an uncomfortable length and Caledonia frets between Blackbird's bare feet. He is mindlessly snapping pine needles in half to curb his anxiety when Sefina finally sighs.

"If you don't intend to take them to the soul plane, Endellion, then what do you intend?"

For a moment, Blackbird is so startled at hearing her true name that she falters. She does not spend much time among the pantheon these days, far preferring the company of her bird and a couple wayward ghosts, and no one has called her that for a very long time. Caledonia regularly calls her Delli when they're alone, the only soul allowed usage of that stupid nickname, and even that catches her unaware sometimes. When they are with anyone he refers to her as Blackbird, same as the spirits and the superstitious humans.

Sefina watches her, one elegant eyebrow raised in anticipation, and Blackbird fumbles for something to say. Admittedly she had not thought that far ahead, but saying as much to Sefina will just encourage the goddess to take them herself. So Blackbird blurts, "I have always wanted apprentices," and is as surprised at the notion as Sefina is. The latter even tilts her head a little, as if she might have misheard.

"They can interact with spirits," Blackbird says defensively. "They would be useful."

Sefina looks towards the children again. For a moment it seems as if they have all disappeared inside, and then both goddesses catch sight of the boy who lingers by the door. It is Kisosen, the one with the eerie silver eyes. He is staring directly at them, and even Caledonia stops in his fretting to stare back.

Sefina laughs then, and Blackbird nearly flinches at the sudden sound. She cannot seem to look away from the boy, who has begun to smile. His expression sits somewhere between confusion and amusement, which is not a reaction Blackbird can ever remember garnering before.

"Alright," Sefina says.

Blackbird looks up at her, blinking. Caledonia flits to Blackbird's shoulder and disappears into the mess of her hair. "Alright?"

Sefina shrugs. "They're yours, Endellion." Her voice is placid, unbothered by this bizarre change of events. "If you can convince them to be Death's apprentices, then so be it."

Blackbird hadn't thought of that. She frowns, picturing the biting attitude of Malakbel, the one who relentlessly shepherds his brothers and who the other two tease as Mama Mal. If she cannot get him on her side, she won't get any of them.

"Of course, if they refuse, they'll need to be taken to the soul plane."

Caledonia presses his amber beak to the shell of Blackbird's ear and whispers, "We'll convince them, Delli."

"Deal," Blackbird says, before she can find a way out of this trap she's laid. "They're mine then."

Sefina smiles. "Godspeed," she says indulgently, and touches an absent hand to Blackbird's shoulder before she disappears. It is with little fanfare, and not distraction enough to stop Kisosen from looking at her.

Blackbird takes a fortifying breath. Caledonia hops around to where she can see him, and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"You convinced me," he reminds her. "We can do this."

Blackbird nods. "We can do this," she repeats, and starts down the hill to speak to her boys.

complete form ;;
username: iBrevity
name: Endellion "Blackbird"
goddess of dreams, sleep and spirits
do they believe in ghosts?: yes! see above story

credit ;;
bird pixels by Rilvin
skull pixels by Asralora
malakbel, saranyu & kisosen all belong to me [xxx]
sefina belongs to me [xxx]

[lovage]

username fernmoon
name jezebel
gender female

occupation to be stated in prompt
personality a mysterious one with her sharp tongue striking at foes.
no walls hold her sharp wit and quite critical thinking. nothing is qu-
ite simple for her, and everything must be done with reason or som-
ething will be deemed useless for her. if one frustrates her, she ten-
ds not to show much besides a shift in tones and her words.

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do they believe in ghosts? the pale moonlight came through the leaves as the weary traveller steadily moved through the forest. the traveller stopped as a song was being sung done the path. something was coming and it seemed to be ghostly. yellow spirits seemed to dance around the figure as two eyes peered through the darkness. "ghost!" the traveller yelled as they ducked behind a tree. their breathe grew faster as they hide from the figure lurking in the shadows. warm breath came from behind as they heard, "a scaredy cat much? also, i am no ghost, but you just be seeing some." the traveller jumped backwards into the arms of the stranger who was grinning creepily with piercing yellow eyes. they scrambled away from them as the tripped on a root while trying to get away. "wow, a start of a horror movie... this isn't worth my time," the figure said as they walked away. "good bye."

"what do you mean? at least tell me who you are and even if you're a ghost or not?" the traveller questioned the stranger.

the same expression was in their face and with a little chuckle, "i mean you're not worth my time. as for ghost, i'm not even one, but we both know that they are real because we both know that we can see them. they are all around us even if they don't want to show themselves to us right now. they are small little things and not really remnants of their former selves in their current form. they wear a mask of their former selves and are just hollow of thenselves," they said as a way to express their beliefs on ghost then the tone of their voice. "and, do you want to know something? each of them is quite unwilling to show themselves due to this little confrontation. i was going to have some good reaping tonight, but no, you little scaredy cat, must just come into my reaping woods in the best night to cause problems."

"what do you mean by 'reaping' and seeing ghost? who even are you?" the questions kept in flooding from them as they continued on asking.

a quick growl rumbled from the still same faced firgure. they grabbed a scythe out of nowhere. "no one besides the grim reaper. you're lucky that you'll be let go even when my temper is up," they said as the pulled up the traveller. "with this scythe, i can just poke you with it and then bye bye." the scythe came close to them as they were dropped onto the ground. "run."

[Armuris]

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{ Username } Armuris

{ Name } Evangeline

{ Gender } Female

{ Pronouns } She/Her

{ do they believe in ghosts?: }

There always comes a time in someone’s life where they are asked a question.
One question. Do you believe in ghosts? Almost everyone in their lifetime is
asked this question. For Evangeline, this question comes quite frequently due
to her coloring. However, she loves her coloring, for her pattern grants her quite
the blessing. But this blessing is also her curse.

For those who seem confused, ever since Evangeline was young she had always
made some of the strangest friends. Most of whom seemed older, but occasionally
there were a couple younger. Evangeline’s mother, before she was born, had
managed to anger the wrong person. A voodoo queen. And her mother was cursed
that her first daughter shall always be only seen after dark. As soon as the sun
rose, Evangeline would fade into the light and wander invisibly through the world.
As she grew up, she developed a sight. During the day Evangeline could see
thousands of others wandering the grounds as she did. Eventually her mother
realized, that not only was her daughter cursed to remain unseen in daylight,
but she would be forced to wander the veil until dark. Makes it very hard not to
believe in ghosts when you spend every day walking among those who got stuck.
[212 words]

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[Lady Tuesday]

username:
name:
do they believe in ghosts?: no, but she makes money on others who do. She is a false medium and she works as a fortune teller.
extras: 1. a story about how her beliefs in ghosts were changed by an experience she had.

[ℋoney]

-ignore posted to early-

[hellb0und]

"MONSTERS DON'T SLEEP UNDER YOUR BED,
THEY SLEEP INSIDE YOUR HEAD."

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USERNAME. ` inferno. NAME. ` arima abraxas.
GHOSTS? ` no ↪ yes. CREDIT. ` pixel.
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