Purpose
Cutscene: Purpose
Author
IC Details
Synopsis:

The Gentleman Ghost makes use of unseen resources.

IC Date: June 06, 2019
IC Location: In Between.
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 06 Jun 2019 22:56
Rating & Warnings: G
Associated Plots

A purpose.

Surely they should be thankful to have been given some sort of function. The restless spirits that dwelt in the world were themselves divided in varying states of being, and there were little enough who possessed mindfulness of what they were to be of any proper use. Yet these were souls that Jim Craddock could almost sympathize with.

None of them could claim the same (mis)fortune as he, being able to fully materialize and interact with the living as he pleased, though possessing a semblance of life was still a far cry from actuality. These others lingered, unheard, mostly unnoticed, a curse in its own right. Perhaps those who didn't know better, locked in their own inescapable sequence of events, were truly the better off. What trapped these souls between planes that they could not find proper rest? Surely they were simpler matters than his own mysterious circumstances.

He dismissed such thoughts easily, a familiar and worn path that never produced any useful epiphanies. The apparitions he'd called upon were no strangers to the task he'd set upon them. They were under no obligations at the cost of whatever existence they yet clung to, not as they had been with the threat of demons, feeding on souls both astray and yet attached to the living. But he was still making them useful.

"I seek any whisperings of this so-called Brotherhood," he said. "You may know their recent work and the death that followed. Ye've heard names, and so have reason to be cautious. Rumors, plans, gatherings, targets, locations, whatever may pertain- I will be told."

There seemed to him no reason to make mention of the reasons, nor the name of who had put him up to the task. He could hold the ends of his own strings.

Although his face was unseen even to his ghostly brethren, he maintained a neutral but serious mien, standing there with gloved hands resting neatly over the head of his cane, his monocle and hat turning to regard those who had gathered. They would do the job of spreading the word to others; he needn't put the effort to do so himself more than once or twice.

"Go." He swept out a hand to disperse them, his white cloak fluttering with the movement, billowing a touch longer as though caught in an equally intangible breeze. And then the Gentleman Ghost was alone again, a solitary figure in white, staring off at points unseen.

The net had been cast. Now to see what it might catch.

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