technicallyhellbound | Ghostcat shenanigans

Ghostcat shenanigans

It had been a few weeks since they'd started this arrangement, and so far the Cat had, in fact, been a surprising amount of help. Enough so that Charles had stopped being mostly on-guard while in his presence and had even taken the 'puppy' nickname in stride, though he still hadn't really looked too deeply at why it didn't bother him as much as it probably should.

That particular day was neither a Monday nor a Friday, and was in fact a Wednesday, so while it wasn't one of their scheduled briefings, it was a visit that had been arranged in advance, a few hours while Crystal and Charles were at a concert, the kind of thing that while Edwin enjoyed being invited to, really wasn't the kind of thing he actually enjoyed going to, and the others both knew it, which was why they continued to invite him, even if he always declined.

It was late afternoon, not yet early evening when he stepped out of the mirror into the cannery, tugging at the collar of his slipover in much the same way he did the lapels of his usual jacket. He'd been branching out from his usual look, just a little, in bits and pieces, and now had something of a range of shades of those softer jumpers, this one was a deep bottle-green and was nearly a cowl-neck, but definitely less severe than his usual look.

It had been raining in London, or rather it had been misting heavily, and he wasn't quite sure if it was still raining here or if it had just finished, there wasn't the same kind of moisture in the air, which meant that if it was raining it hadn't been doing so for long, and all he knew was that the Cat had something planned for them to do, he was only now considering that he probably should have asked a few more questions beforehand.

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Edwin would argue that it didn't exactly make a ghost stronger, just more present, but that was nearly the same thing and it wasn't worth it, not with the tension already visibly riding the Cat's shoulders. That was new, and he chalked it up to talk of Esther just as much as the magic running rampant in the room, not in flux exactly, but fluctuating in a way that even he could feel, a sort of barometric pressure against his senses.

All the same, he nodded as he eased closer, taking another slow, steady breath, letting the magic there suffuse him. Certainly the Cat had already been able to see him, this hardly would have worked if he hadn't, but there was a weight to Edwin now that there hadn't been before, and he turned to regard the Cat once more, brow creased a little, nodding once at the question, "I've remade it, yes, though I'm afraid I'm going to need more specific directions, are you going to need a tether of some kind?"

There's a strange sensation that washes over him as Edwin steps ever closer to the node of the ley-line that sits beneath this cave. The Cat is expecting to feel that dread he felt with the witch, when the natural energy responded to her negative impact and became even more of a roil beneath the surface of the Earth, because even though Edwin is no witch, he's seen enough hellish things to easily have some kind of impact... but the effect is entirely different. Edwin seems clearer, in sharper focus, as though his colours pick up better the closer he gets to the line. His eyes are mesmerising like this, and for a moment the Cat almost, almost, gets lost just looking at them. A familiar feeling, and though it isn't the right time for it, it unwinds a little of the tautness of his shoulders and hands.

He exhales, physically shaking free the reverie with a little toss of his head, focusing instead on letting magic transform his very human hand to something a touch more beastlike. He then holds his other out toward Edwin, wrist first. And if it just so happens to be the perfect mirror of the wrist he picked to on Edwin to latch his caging spell around, then, well. Call it coincidence.

He smiles invitingly.

"Just here, if you don't mind. And don't worry, I promise I won't demand payback for this one."

He considered for a moment, even as he drew the coiled tether from a pocket, nodding once as he looped a quick miller's knot around the Cat's wrist, something that would hold but wouldn't constrict with movement, and, most importantly, something he wouldn't be able to easily shake loose or un-tie one handed himself, not that Edwin thought it was going to come to that.

He kept the trailing end looped loosely around his own hand, though his hold was firm enough, letting it flare to the warm yellow glow with a gentle flick, a glow that was more honey-gold in the strength of that magic still filling the room, "Hm. Interesting." He wouldn't have thought something that was already completed and, for lack of a better word, sealed would still be affected by that kind of thing.

It wasn't a bad thing, he'd created it, so it being stronger simply meant he had better control over it, which was something that under other circumstances he would like to explore. He nodded once more, "Secured. Is there anything I should look out for?"

Magically producing a cup in a flash of purple light, the Cat offers it to Edwin with the hand turned bestial. "I need you to hold this under my arm, and I need you not to flinch. Everything is going to be fine, as long as you keep your eyes on me and keep that string tight, alright? I won't mind if it hurts a little..." He says, with a little pantomime of secrecy, as if divulging a secret to Edwin; confessing that he might even like it if he took the opportunity to be a little rough.

It's a play to ease the tension, of course, but it's not clear whether the Cat meant it for himself or for Edwin. His shoulders do relax a little more, though, becoming limber as he inhales and the scent of power and magic fills his lungs.

"I'm going to fill this cup with blood. My blood. Obviously." The Cat figures he should at least give Edwin the whole picture, even if there's not a whole lot of backing out he can realistically do now. He could still refuse, he supposes, but that glitter of curiosity in Edwin's eyes tells him that this might just be a performance interesting enough to keep him keen, despite the small amount of violence. "It's the quickest and most effective natural balm I've found without calling on some outside magic user to come take a look at it. Which I don't really wanna do while it's so volatile. Once the cup is full, you can get close and pour it across the crack."

He studies Edwin's face, thinking still how strange it is to be doing this with the ghost instead of with the witch who would sooner belittle him for all his snarling than show any kind of fear or concern in the wake of it. He's not sure how Edwin will react.

"It won't be pretty, but I can take a little instability. I just need you to watch for my eyes changing. If it gets weird, or I start losing focus on you, give me a pull." He wriggles his wrist, though the amplified power makes it hard to even do that much when the other end of the tether is in Edwin's hold. He smiles. "It should be easy for you, right? I'm sure you've always wanted an opportunity to actually keep me in line."

Having the process laid out in nice, simple, easy-to-follow steps was the way to explain it, really, because while Edwin did consider for a moment, it was only a brief one and he nodded, "Alright. I can do that."

Normally he'd caution against blood-magic, but ley lines were the kind of deep, even primal magic that required the same in turn, which meant this was one of the few instances where blood magic was the best option. More than that the blood of a magical creature was the way to go, because while the blood of a magic-user could work, they'd have to be attuned to the place and they'd have to have blood to use, and that counted him out twice over.

He shifted his weight a little, drawing himself up and drawing the tether taut, not pulling yet, but holding steady, taking up any slack just to be sure there was the least amount of risk of his losing his hold or the cat being able to get away by accident.

Edwin's agreement is as swift and as sure as most of his decisions often are, and that, too, settles the Cat's lingering nervousness a touch. Edwin is a much more stable constant; despite the uncertainty about their relationship to each other and the general wobbliness of their camaraderie, the sight of him and getting an agreement out of him, even if it's only in the effort of soothing curiosity, feels good. The Cat clings to that, to feeling good, as he turns his attention onto stretching out his tethered arm as much as he can as Edwin lines the cup beneath it. With his clawed hand, he presses the point to the thick vein down the center, and pauses for one single steadying breath before slicing a small but deep cut along his skin.

Blood pours and instantly the air in the room around them changes, like there is a tear in more than just flesh, like there is more space, suddenly, for energy and magic to move and flow in. The Cat's body tenses as the first drops from the pour hit the metal cup, as his dark scarlet blood starts to fill the receptacle while the ley line sings in eager joy like a baby bird about to be fed. He can feel the way it hungers, calling out to the hunger in his own soul, to the need in him to belong, to the small weariness he feels in keeping up disguise after disguise after disguise until it isn't fun any more. The natural energy of the world wants him as close to the core of his being as he can be, and doesn't he want that too?

The bestial hand, not yet changed back to a human glove, clutches on to the portion of his upper arm where he'd rolled up his sleeve, as though doing so will help him keep it still more than Edwin's powerful restraint is already doing. The desire to run in him is great, to run from the temptation to let everything spill over. He growls in frustration, but… instead of doing any of that, he just looks at Edwin's face. Perhaps not a great idea, depending on the ghost's reaction, but one he's sure he'll find comfort in regardless, some way or another.

Honestly that partial transformation was utterly fascinating, even moreso than the whole process that was the reason for it, and that was also fascinating, both from a spellcasting perspective and simply from an information-stored-away-for-later-use perspective.

His brows both lifted, just a little, some almost-but-not-quite question as he met the Cat's gaze, he had been told to watch for any change in the Cat's eyes after all, and it was probably some kind of unfair that he was able to do that and keep both hands steady at the same time, but that was just one of those skills he'd probably had to learn the hard way and had only had time to hone more fully in the past thirty-some-odd years.

Mostly it was only almost a question because he could feel the flux in the power around them as well, like some kind of gathering low-pressure front before an actual storm, the kind that might still dissipate again but might roil over into thunder and lightning, and he was gauging the Cat's reaction to see if it was something he had to worry about. Which really just meant that what the Cat was likely to see was a deeply fascinated curiosity, tinged with some genuine concern that hadn't yet made it to being actual worry.

Curiosity is good. It's familiar to the Cat, but familiar to see it on Edwin's face, too, and it's still nice to be under his scrutiny despite the rather tense circumstances. He's always found Edwin's interest addictive, even if it was an interest bourne only from a lack of further exploration and understanding, like the interest in his body had been back in Port Townsend, like the interest Edwin had shown — albeit briefly — in his truth magic.

Not only that, but the Cat can see the ever so slight softening of Edwin's features in the way his eyes are wider than normal, the way the set of his brows is tighter in the middle. He's not foolish enough to read too much into it, but his heightened senses will take it and bottle it up and keep it safe— and use it now, to keep him steady as the energy around them tries to find an in to carve out more than he's willing to give.

His breathing is laboured now, coming from him in heavy pants that shake his shoulders as the cup gets halfway full. It's always a struggle, the final stretch, and normally this is where Esther would make some stupid fucking comment about this whole thing taking too long and being too dramatic and make him feel embarrassed and small and therefore angry and eager to lash out to shut her up.

It doesn't happen, because she's not here, but frustration sets in as he realises he can't stop fucking thinking about her. She's gone, she's probably never coming back, but he's keeping her alive every time he pictures her face in his mind and God, if that isn't a big allegory for some masochistic tendencies, then he doesn't know what is. Something tells him it all would have been so much easier if he'd had claws to keep her quiet, if the size of him alone and the warning of a lashing tail would have kept her from demeaning him.

It's irritating, he's irritating, and he breaks eye contact with Edwin to screw his eyes shut against the feeling, grunting in frustration and in pain as he digs his claws into the meat of his upper arm out of a loss for what else to do.

That frustration was almost palpable, and it was familiar in a sort of sideways kind of way. It was something he'd seen on Charles more frequently as of late, now that they'd actually been making an effort to talk things through. More than that, though, it was something he'd done himself as well, and for similar reasons, even if they weren't exactly the same they were close enough that he and Charles had the same response now.

One that -while he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do- he used on the Cat at the moment, "Stay with me." It was said as he tightened his hold of the tether, enough to draw the Cat's attention as he didn't have a free hand to clasp his shoulder or upper arm or elbow with the way he would have done for Charles, the way Charles did for him.

He wasn't going to voice his assumption that the Cat was thinking about Esther, mostly because he wasn't sure if that was it, and even if it was he wasn't sure if it was his place, but keeping the cat grounded in the here and now he could, and would, do.

The darkness behind his eyes is complete and beckoning, and for a moment it seems so much easier to forget where he is and what he's doing and enjoy that pitch black void instead; only he'd prepared Edwin well, and Edwin wasn't about to let the plan fail just because the Cat still couldn't keep his shit together when something tried to tempt him to let it all go.

He opens his eyes at the sound of Edwin's voice. The gold in them is, momentarily, shot through with a few flickers of violet, but it dies down as he lets the gentle command keep him in place. It sounds like something Edwin might have said to Charles, to one of his friends, something firm but oddly comforting. It does the trick for the Cat, at least, and he manages to quiet some of the turmoil in him as he looks back into Edwin's sparkling green eyes.

The cup is almost there, two thirds of the way full. The Cat can't draw his eyes away to check, but he can tell from the way his body yearns for the end to come, and the way the room around them yearns to have it continue on and on until it's drank all the power there is on offer here. A little burst of purple behind the Cat shocks into view, like the lashing of a great tail made of violet fire, here and then gone.

The Cat manages a smile, though.

"It's alright. I've got it." He says, exhaling slowly once he's finished speaking. Edwin's eyes are so bright like this. Is it the darkness of the room making them glow like that, or is it the energy in the air amplifying their beauty? "...Your eyes are mesmerising like this. You look, like... warmer, somehow. Tangible."

It's not clear if he's talking because he's got a better hold on himself, or if he's talking to keep himself in the present moment, or both, but as he inhales and exhales another shaky breath, he manages to glance down and check the cup, finding that it's mere drops away from the rim now. Soon this will all be over.

"Ah, that." That was the answer he'd needed as to whether or not the Cat knew what ley lines did to ghosts, and if giving that explanation would keep the Cat focused on the present, he was more than amenable to giving it, "That would be because I am. Likely will be for a while yet, enough so that the living will be able to see me even once we've left here. We've been here, five minutes now? Not yet ten. So maybe for a half hour, give or take. Ley lines, and I would imagine some other types of natural magics, are one of the few things that can make a ghost solid for a time, and one of the fewer still that doesn't hurt in the process."

Granted, Edwin knew his pain tolerance, and his understanding of what should cause pain was skewed, but he'd heard from others that this way was almost pleasant in comparison.

It was hard to say if he'd been planning on saying anything else on the matter, as the last droplet tracking down the Cat's elbow had filled the cup to the rim, just shy of being kept in place by surface tension alone, "There we are." His brows both lifted, regarding the cat, "There's not an incantation or anything? I've only got to feed the line?"

The Cat raises his eyebrows at the confirmation. He'd heard it made ghosts stronger, and in that vagueness he'd assumed that stronger meant magically or at least in terms of potential ability, not... not more present. Edwin telling him in no uncertain terms that he is more touchable than ever right now, that he might even be warm is like telling a child to eat their greens while dessert sits melting in the middle of the table.

He actually whines, a tortured kind of feline noise more befitting a jungle cat than any domestic animal he usually takes shape as, and closes his eyes briefly as the pull toward the center of the room tries to have him consider what a warm meal that isn't fish might taste like. Stupid, really, Edwin doesn't even have flesh. But he does have a body, and a body that might very well be warm and—

He opens his eyes when Edwin speaks again, giving himself a little shake, dusting off the little licks of flame clinging to the tips of his hair.

"Fuck, shit, that's not fair— Ah, what? Oh, yeah. Yeah, just dump it on the fissure. This is good old-fashioned earth magic, you don't need fancy words and mantras when the elements do all the work for you." He nods at the glowing crack in the ground, but resolutely doesn't look at it. "It'll pulse once it's been fed, but then it should ease off a little while it spreads the energy out along the line. It'll give us enough time to uh, catch our breaths. And get out."

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Ghostcat shenanigans

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