Fantasy Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Random Dead Guy?

[Hrainh]

Finally. Finally, Alastor had gathered all the ingredients. The girl enters her apartment with a grin. If it all went according to plan, he'd be back. After all this time, he'd be back.

Alastor sets her bag on the floor, pulling out a seemingly random array of objects. A shark tooth, a pigeon feather, and a small antler being among the items. After all the items were neatly lined up on the floor, she vanished into another room for only a few seconds, returning with a handful of homemade candles, a vial of blood, an old shirt, and chalk.

The carpet was moved and a pentagram--well, it was more of a heptagram because of the seven points--was drawn on the wooden floor, candles carefully placed on each point. In the very middle sat a wooden bowl that Alastor poured the blood into. Crushed Easter Lillies were then added to the blood and topped with the shirt. The items laying on the floor were then separated into the different triangles that made up the pentagram. Each triangle represented a different charka, and the items were sorted into each section with practiced ease.

Alastor lights the candles and runs over to turn all the lights off and close all the blinds. As soon as she sits down, she begins the resurrection.

"Deorum mortuorum, dimittere animam meam.
"Deorum vitae, nisi hoc meam.
"A vita interficiam cito, et germen in caule snipped.
"Ego te in spem meam et audire tibi place.
"Deorum, et mortuus est et vivit, reducam amorem."

With each passing sentence, a faint green light grew and the wind whirred.

"Deorum mortuorum, dimittere animam meam.
"Deorum vitae, nisi hoc meam.
"A vita interficiam cito, et germen in caule snipped.
"Ego te in spem meam et audire tibi place.
"Deorum, et mortuus est et vivit, reducam amorem."

Alastor opened her eyes, which were now glowing green as well.

"Deorum, et mortuus est et vivit, reducam amorem."

As the final statement left her mouth, the light became blinding. Hopefully, her neighbors wouldn't notice. A rattling sound echoed through the apartment and voices of what were--presumably--ghosts called out to Alastor. She ignores all other presences, sifting through the lost souls to find the one she longed for. At last, Alastor felt the familiar warmth of her love. She held onto the feeling and pulled.

It was finally time.

 

[Xeppy]

Heard only by some, desperate moans cried out in the quiet, "empty" alley, yelling for loved ones to comfort their dying souls that had died centuries ago. Their croaks and pleas were pitiful, lost of hope, and only noticed by the adventurous. For regular townspeople who avoided the hospital alleyway for this exact reason, these weeps were only seen as terrifying, as something from the devil himself. To those who dared come into this hall, they could describe a hopeless setting. Empty faces, glazed eyes, hospital gowns mindlessly dragged on the floor: only faint and quick glimpses of this appeared to traumatized eyes. Some limped, some clang to the wall with hope as if they could still transfer to the living world, and some dejectedly lay on the floor as if begging, hoping to have some peace.

Sajak was camouflaged with this flock. Laying on the floor, eyes closed, ragged breathing coming out of his white-orb-light body, he was exactly like the rest of these dying souls. He was like a pebble inside of a tornado here- thrown around and stuck inside of a chaotic wind, unable to escape and find his own peace. Oh, when would he be able to plant his feet on the ground again and have clarity? He had always believed that dead ones were able to rest peacefully (what was the term "Rest in Peace" for then?) but he was stuck on the same grounds his life had ended in. Every single aging second wore away his tired spirit, pounding against his heart until he couldn't handle it. For decades, he had given up. He had laid on the floor, trying to lose oblivion from this cruel world.

He was, mentally and literally, empty. There was no warmth of any physical contact to keep his sanity intact, and nobody he cared about was alive anymore. He was a drifting breeze with no anchor, having no home and nowhere safe to shelter in. His eyes strained once more, as they always do, as he scrunched his spirit body together more and more on the cold, cement floor. He was a trapped soul in this world, yet others still had the audacity to call him a "wandering" or a "free" spirit. Some chain connected him to this realm, and no matter what he did, he couldn't break it. The moans from the others still surrounded the area, and Sajak could only join the large mob with a despairing whisper:

"Help me. Help me, Mary."

...

On a moment's instance, the groans of phantoms stopped all at once. For good reasons, Sajak has never called anything supernatural in all of his "dead life", but he had now. In all of the time he had been resting here, there was never a moment where these dreadful ghosts had been quiet or took a break. Quickly making notice to open his eyes and sit himself up (it's quite easy when you have no gravity pulling you down), the first thing he could notice was a fog going through his essence. He squinted at it- as if that would make a difference- and lifted his hand, even though he could not touch it.

"Green?" He mewled quietly, looking over his companions to see if they saw that he was seeing. Even as he confirmed that they all looked as confused as he was, they weren't looking at the fog he was concentrating on. They were looking up at the center floor of the alleyway, where all the green fog seemed to be rooting from.

Puzzled, Sajak slowly crawled over to this hole, peering inside of it warily. He didn't like this. He didn't trust this. Something spouting out of nowhere, attracting the dead to it? It sounded like a recipe for disaster, something that could cause damnation for their souls if not treated correctly. He tried looking inside of it, seeing the source of whatever or whoever was doing this, but he saw nothing. It was a pitch-dark sort of portal. Some sort of magical spell he didn't recognize. He pulled in more closely, turning his head as if that would help him examine this scene, until a pulse of heat pumped out of the hole. A pulse of life. A pulse of... lo-

The phantoms all went crazy. Collapsing on each other, stumbling to get into this hole, trying to get wherever was making them feel... human again. Sajak, already close to this source, buzzed with excitement and life. How long had he not felt like this? Years? A hundred years? Any source of time was lost in this outdoors hall. While it took him a few seconds, he, like everyone else, was reaching to whatever was causing this life in a ghost. These pulses of life were powerful enough to make them all feel alive. If he were in his human body, tears would have been rolling down his feminine face from the gratitude he was feeling.

But, like how quickly the warmth was there, the warmth quickly disappeared in a second, leaving Sajak as empty as ever...

--

The first thing Alastor would most likely notice about Sajak, floating in the center of the pentagram, was that they were definitely not who she was originally looking for. A ripped apart patient robe, strangled hair falling to their shoulders, a feminine, weak, short body was most likely the things that would have caught their attention. If not those things, maybe the confused look Sajak had on their face when looking at his surroundings would have hinted at it. Their squinted eyes and trembling body was spotlighted in the center of the room. At first, the ghost didn't seem to notice the necromancer or her summoning supplies; he was enamored with the sudden new surroundings. He was sucked into how quiet it was, how full of life this area was compared to that graveyard of a hall.

When his eyes landed on the female, though, he didn't seem to react at all. Perhaps he was in shock? His head was drooped back on his left shoulder, as if he were casually meeting with someone. His glassy eyes stared into her own, his mouth slightly open as if he were about to whisper something. Whether Alastor was freaking out or in a state of calmness, Sajak would have stayed still either way. It was like he was taking everything in, not being used to being in the presence of someone... well... alive.

"Are you God?" Was the only thing Sajak could choke out of his spiritual body. It seemed he didn't notice the pentagram or the summoning materials yet if he was asking this.

 

[Hrainh]

Alastor had thought that she'd finally have it her way. Practically her life, Alastor had let other people dictate her life.

She had grown up in a poorer family, starting work as soon as she was able. Alastor had always gotten the perfect grades--A's across the board--the perfect looks, the perfect everything. She was what some would call 'the gifted child' or 'the golden child.' Well, she had been.

It had all changed when the resident 'bad boy,' Jared, decided that they would make good friends. It only progressed from there. As it turns out, Jared and Alastor had made good friends; great friends, even. At 17 years old, they began dating after having known each other for three years. At 19 they got engaged and at 20, Jared died.

It was a freak accident. He had been returning from a trip with his family to visit Alastor while she was in the hospital for her mother (funnily enough). It turns out, driving near on a motorcycle near some old drunk guy is a very bad idea. Jared was hit. Thrice. The first was because the driver couldn't stop in time, the second was because the driver wanted to see what he had hit and had driven over Jared again in the process, and the third was the driver panicking and ran over Jared one final time in order to speed off. It was a mess. There was no way Jared could have ever survived it.

Now, Alastor had always been very into the supernatural, so being who she was, decided to look into necromancy. It couldn't hurt that much, could it? She had already lost everything she had considered important.

After these two long, long years Alastor had finally figured it out. Jared would return home soon. And...well, here they were.

Some ghostly presence who was very clearly not Alastor's fiance was floating in front of her asking if she was God.

"Who the fuck are you?"