Window to a Haunted Mind [Finished]

[Yuiven]

((OOC: Here is our thread Sera- at long last. Thank you for your patience. And I'd like to thank Jenn for beta'ing Captain Kaven's orders. <3))

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.

No doubt all of you have heard by now, as news travels fast, Queen Shinrai is dead. He was mortally wounded by his own son, Prince Perseus, in the most recent battle fer the Queenship of the Court; stabbed in the chest with a poison-tipped dagger filled with a concoction made from hemlock and poison ivy. Congratulations, we have an honest-to-goodness madman sitting on the throne and, even worse, in total control of our Suit.

Fortunately, His Highness, King Iraishin, His Highness, King Ignatius- official Clubs Court ambassador -and Lady Dierdre have already foreseen this eventuality and made plans to cope with this disastrous outcome. Emergency evacuation procedures are being implemented immediately. Only a handful of nobles and a crew of attendants, cooks, servants and custodians have opted to remain behind to take care of business as well as maintain the palace's upkeep. A platoon of soldiers from the Hearts Militia will be hand-picked by me, Captain Kaven, based on experience, abilities and temperament to serve as a skeleton guard.

To those soldiers, you will be uniformed and maintain a high visibility presence to deter any illegal and inappropriate actions. Observe for signs of misconduct through regular patrol, enforce the rules, and report any incidents to me. Your other responsibilities include access control at the gates, ensuring that employees and visitors display proper passes and identification before entering the Court and frisk for contraband. Then you will also escort all visitors to and from their appointments.

Do not under any circumstances confront the Queen unless you are protecting visitors and/or fellow palace inhabitants. We are living in dangerous times. Until his majesty Perseus is dethroned and a new, more mentally sound presiding Queen takes over, we are all that stands between the total collapse of the Hearts. It is our commitment to ensure that life goes on as normally as possible until then.

May Heaven help us...

~Captain Kaven

In the male Palace Guard's locker room, Beowulf stared at his reflection in the mirror, watching the biped crow that mimicked his movements as he nervously smoothed out the fabric of the sash. Alone with his thoughts, he struggled with his conflicting feelings.

Everyone knows the motto: 'to Serve and Protect.' As one of the lucky winners of Captain Kaven's draw, Beowulf was proud to serve his Suit's royal guard, but he couldn't help question who he should really be protecting- the people or the crown?

He scrutinized every inch of his body in the mirror, inspecting for any blemishes requiring a touch up, in order to present a perfect appearance to the general public. Finally, after a few long moments of silence, Beowulf drew himself up to face his reflection, heaving a sigh. "All right; guess I'm as ready as I'm gonna be," he said gruffly. The Josiggy stepped back, then turned towards the door and squared his shoulders before heading out.

Exiting through the door, he proceeded in a direct, straight course towards the grand central staircase. His hand clutched the banister as he began to advance slowly up the stairs, taking each step one at a time. Overlooking the great hall, Beowulf contemplated the change of life under Queen Perseus' reign with a grimace on his face. It seemed like only yesterday that the Court of Hearts was alive with the hustle and bustle of daily living. Now, exactly two weeks later to the day when the newest Queen took power, a solemn, deathly quietness had fallen. It affected nearly everybody within its walls.

Palace inhabitants and visitors alike were forced to speak in hushed whispers. Cards looked anxiously over their shoulders, fearful of being overheard. They knew the punishment for a misspoken word could easily result in having their throats ripped out.

Most of the people no longer traveled the halls alone, preferring the safety of pairs or small groups. Watching their step, they peeked around corners and jumped at their own shadows.

Beowulf forced himself to tear his gaze away. This is all wrong! Life shouldn't be like this- we shouldn't have to be so afraid. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head resignedly as he thought to himself. But this is our reality- we have to live in this world the way it is...for now.

With an abrupt turn to the right, Beowulf set out on patrol of the East Wing on the second floor. He took a deep breath, held it for a minute, and let it out. Then the newest guard assumed a more genial expression. But there was still a glint in his eyes as sharp as the large broadsword he could summon to keep others from getting too close.

[seraaches]

The ghosts were talking to him again. The golden bipedal canine hunched his body over, wings flared just enough to make him seem even bigger, despite his strange stance. His ruff was raised, but that seemed to be a permanent part of his features now. Sometimes the ghosts scared him; did normal people see ghosts? But hadn't seen the one thing that really mattered-- the one man, ghost or not, that could throw him off the deep end.

One part of him was certain that the monster was dead, but the rest of him. . . His head jerked to the left so he could stare over shoulder and wing. Maybe he was patrolling? The pretty Highlander ghost had told him to go walk; she seemed very. . . kindly. It was strange to him. But his mind liked her a lot; he could tell. The little white ghost thing with her, though, seemed terrified by him. That was more in fitting with how the world seemed.

The Queen of Hearts continued to stalk down one of the East hallways, he wasn't sure where, though it was, in actuality, the second floor. Was the monster dead?

[Yuiven]

Wary of the possibility of the new presiding Queen's presence, Beowulf rounded a corner and walked down a dimly lit side hallway as he began his patrol. He looked to the right then to the left, eyes absently roving over the rich and intricate decorations that lined the walls, while keeping watch for any potential threats. All was quiet, so far; he hadn't noticed anyone or anything out of the ordinary yet.

Suddenly, as the royal guard continued his march through the long and narrow corridor, he saw something disturbing enough to make him stop dead in his tracks. At the opposite end of the hallway, an eerie shadow had manifested across the wall. Beneath his startled gaze the shadow grew, forming and re-forming, taking on an entirely different shape. Gradually the shadow revealed itself as an equine-shaped head complete with jagged, razor-sharp teeth and large, pointed ears. Following closely a pair of batlike wings unfurled from its shoulders. By the Suits, could that be...Perseus?

Speak the devil's name and he shall appear.

Feathers standing on end, Beowulf stood frozen in place with limbs rigid, fear and wonder playing across his rugged features as the volatile equine/canine hybrid came into view. Only one word left his beak, as soft as a whisper, but loud enough to echo throughout the long, empty space. "...fuck." Realizing the danger, his survival instincts kicked in, and without a trace of a hesitation Beowulf activated the latest magical ability he'd added to his repertoire. An extremely light and springy texture akin to moss instantly generated on the bottoms of his feet. Quickly, he sprang sideways with minimal sound as he took cover before his majesty Perseus could see him. He pressed himself against the wall, crouching slightly behind a nearby suit of armour, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Silence Ability: Once a week, this SD is now capable of causing their bodies to grow an incredibly springy and light texture to the bottoms of their feet. This texture will slowly rub off and lose effectiveness as an hour goes by, but during most of that hour, they are absolutely silent on their feet. Their breathing, screams, or clothing, however will still make noise.

[seraaches]

The echo of a word, faintly bounced across the marbled hall, and the Queen hesitated for a moment, his mind screaming at him as his instincts told him another story entirely. His instincts said to run, to attack, to rip through wotever was haunting the hallways with him, but his mind wasn't even certain he had heard anything at all. Through it all, however, his training kept him moving the same with no real sign that he'd heard anything at all.

Was there someone here? Se's ears flicked nervously, one way then the next, though it wasn't as though he hadn't been doing that almost constantly anyway. His green eyes, however, now slipped across the hallway and he unconsciously hunched slightly, his wings mantling around him like some sort of shield. Was the monster here? Was that what he had heard? His lip curled at the thought; his father could be here somewhere right now. He had to kill him; he had to destroy the beast.

Even as his thoughts ran rampant, he continued to make his way down the hall, and when he spotted something that might have been a larger than normal shadow, he let his eyes slide past the first time, though he tried to keep it in his peripheral vision.

[Yuiven]

Just my luck! Of all the hallways, in all of the palace, in all of the Hearts court, the Queen walks into mine, Beowulf thought in exasperation. And I just started my shift! Right now a very large part of him wanted to scream and run away until he found a nice, quiet hole to hide in. His turquoise eyes darted around, searching each nook and cranny along the length of the hall as far as he could see, hoping to catch a glimpse of something- a discreetly concealed opening mechanism to one of the secret passages or a fellow guardsmen -anything to escape with his life.

Unfortunately, he saw nothing. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No one ready willing and able in the vicinity to help him. He was trapped.

As this realization came upon him, like the dawn before an execution, his breathing became short and rapid while, in his chest, the crow's heart was pounding madly as the sound of slow, deliberate footfalls got louder with every passing second. Beowulf fought to suppress the fine tremors that shot though his body, so that no one could tell how much all of this was affecting him.

No matter how well-trained the soldier, there was no preparation for a disaster of this magnitude.

A few moments passed in tense silence, waiting for the blow to fall, but when nothing had happened, Beowulf's curiosity got the better of him. The royal guard was caught in the psychotic tyrant's shadow, when he looked up and saw the hunched figure of Perseus, standing in the middle of the hall in front of him, completely motionless. Feeling more confused than fearful despite himself, Beowulf's eyebrows creased in the center of his forehead as he stared at the Queen. Perseus was gazing towards the end of the corridor instead of looking at Beowulf, but he was still in his field of vision.

So... how come Perseus wasn't redecorating with his vital organs and painting the walls red with his blood right now? Why was he just standing there? Had he even seen him?

Pondering over these questions, Beowulf stood dumbly for a moment, a little boggled at this turn of events, but before he could even think to take advantage of the situation, Perseus's eyes abruptly slid back and looked sideways at the guy through one wide green eye, pinning him in the crosshairs.

[Yuiven]

Meanwhile, outside in the gardens, Wiglaf ambled down a small previously flattened path, hedged by rows of bushes on each side with roses blooming in a jumble of colours. Ears pricked, the Percheron stopped next to a bunch of yellow roses and lowered his muzzle near one of the sun-hued blossoms, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled its mild sweet scent. Humming in contentment, he closed his eyes and smiled.

Suddenly, an incoherent scream of panicked fear rang inside his skull. Startled, Wiglaf whinnied and staggered backwards, tripping over his own hooves. Merciful Suits! What was that?! he wondered, shaking his head as he recovered his footing. He looked around, ears flicking every which way, trying frantically to locate the source of the scream-- but all he could hear was silence and no one was to be found.

Wiglaf flattened his ears, uttering a confused, grunting squeal. That scream did come from within him, as if it was spoken not aloud, but in his mind. Yet it sounded like it was coming from a good distance away. His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to identify the voice. It was a husky baritone- quite distinctive. As a matter of fact, it sounded... really... familiar.

All the blood drained out of Wiglaf's long face as a sense of foreboding welled up, twisting his guts into knots, when at last he realized with cold certainty who had screamed. With a sharp gasp, he looked over his shoulder and stared back down the path, eyes wide with horror. Wiglaf wasn't sure how he knew, he just knew. "Beowulf's in trouble...!"

Fearing for Beowulf's safety, the ghostly draft horse wheeled around, and without a moment's hesitation, launched himself straight into a gallop, charging towards the palace.

[seraaches]

It wasn't exactly a conscious decision to stare at the ghost in the hallway. Well, if it was a ghost. He couldn't be sure. Still, his strange green eyes were staring hard at the crow, giving the feeling of cold fingers ripping into the Guard's mind, though Se, poor Se, was utterly oblivious. The Josiggy was effected by something, Se's ears flipped backwards, listening for danger, trying to find out what was here with them, even as his gaze remained centered on the bird, staring, staring in a swirl of mental neurosis.

The hybrid crouched further uneasily; surely something else was here, right? He couldn't hear anything. Was his father here? Was it Ira? Ira wasn't funny, but he thought he was. Se couldn't remember why he was up in these hallways, could barely remember even where he was. The Queen hunched in the passageway, unmoving, as much a captive as the Guard.

[Yuiven]

Seconds were counting down to zero until the presiding Queen's eyes locked onto the royal guard's, then time stood still. No one existed anymore, save for these two individuals.

Turquoise eyes grew impossibly wide with pure terror, pupils contracting to mere pinpricks at their center. Beowulf stared into two holes opening onto a greenness so remote and so deep that the watcher felt himself being inexorably drawn into the twin pools of infinite colour and their terrible, aiming dots. There was a quiet niggling at the back of his mind despite the urgency of the situation. 'How can I jog loose that piece of vitally important information which might help me escape with my life?' he wondered in the small portion of his mind that wasn't currently ensnared like a wild animal, wretched and terrified. Drawing a blank, he frantically racked his brain. In the last moments before death the answer came to him in a flash:

Don’t look into Perseus's eyes...

Beowulf had been warned, but now it was too late. Abruptly and involuntarily, he gnashed the edges of his beak together with a strangled grunt, hunched over and lifted trembling hands to his head, fingers hooking and unhooking themselves, as though itching to pluck out feathers and peel off flesh from his scalp. "No..." he murmured, his voice coming out hoarse. "Get out." Smooth, marble wall impacted hard between his shoulder blades as Beowulf stumbled backwards a few panicked steps- trying to get away from the insane Yarrow/Josiggy mix, only to find the escape route blocked. The Josiggy pressed tightly into the wall as he scrambled to retreat in a final act of desperation. Losing support in his legs he slid down, coming to 'sit', writhing on the floor. "...Get out!" Again he took to clawing at his scalp as his voice rose to a screech. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Beowulf was aware of a sensation of thin, cold fingers that probed in the shadowy tunnels of his mind, searching for...

Chilled by a sudden, nameless foreboding, he intuitively realized that the Queen had managed to unearth the memory of his most secret terror. With a gasp so sharp, as though the oxygen was being sucked out of his lungs, he froze, staring at His Majesty Perseus, unblinkingly.

Fibres of plush carpet twisted and charred until they resembled burnt grass. Flames lurched like victims in a raging wildfire, embracing each other with warmth and movement, only to let go a moment later. Distressedly, they grew ever taller as the rich and intricate decorations that lined the walls melted. The ceiling was blanketed by thick, black clouds looming in the sky, while the sky itself bled scarlet through the smoke that hung heavily in a hazy fog. Sparks burst, floating into the air. Screams of the dead or those fleeing for their lives rent the silence.

The equine/canine hybrid vanished into the ether, but that brought no comfort to Beowulf, for now he was facing an even greater threat, as he gazed upon the monster who took all things from him.

Light from the surrounding fire illuminating its sinister features in a ominous orange wash, the scaled monstrosity returned his stare, its eyes ablaze with an unholy glow. Faint trails of smoke billowed from between its teeth. Large leathery bat-like wings unfurled slowly flapped up and down, stirring up cloudlets of ash around its four clawed feet. It was the most terribly awesome thing the crow had ever seen, and for a moment he thought it must've been an illusion- but the mythical beast was indeed real. "Oh Suits, I don't believe this; it's a dragon!"

Beowulf and Wiglaf stood side by side on the bluff that overlooked the town as they watched, transfixed with horror, the rampant destruction below. There was no need for Beowulf to look at Wiglaf. The fear in his partner's voice reflected his own.

"Beowulf... that-that creature isn't supposed to exist outside of f-fairy tales!"[/b][/color][/i]

[Yuiven]

((Before reading, I want to warn any potential readers that this post is long, likely my longest to date. But I'm not going to apologize for it. This needed to be wrapped up for story-telling purposes as this encounter will have future ramifications. So, to those intrepid souls who still want to read from beginning to end, there will be a party in your honour. ;D))

As if possessed, Wiglaf galloped through the great hall, pushing himself to increase his speed in a desperate attempt to reach Beowulf in time; but he feared it still wasn't fast enough. Vaguely he was aware of the disconcerted gasps, questioning murmurs and shuffled footsteps behind him as he rushed towards the grand staircase, passing other Cards and tossing out hasty apologies in his wake (even though he was falling for the classic theatrical device— no one could hear him). "Whoops, sorry! Excuse me! Coming through!" When the Sorgaire Range Percheron reached the bottom of the stairs, without breaking stride, Wiglaf bounded up the marble steps.

A wail in his soul forced him to stop by the time he approached the second floor. He planted his back hooves into the landing, sliding to a halt. Wiglaf tossed his head and checked out the surroundings. The need to get to Beowulf was overwhelming, but he forced himself to calm down. Lowered his head, eyes closed, he grasped inside himself for that tentative connection, before he could get lost in the spiral of panic and worry that was trying to take over his mind. Beowulf— Wiglaf's head shot up and he snapped his hunting gaze to the right unconsciously, like a dolphin using echolocation. There's something— he's over that way— With a throaty neigh, the stallion half-reared and took off, heading towards the source of the incoherent screaming somewhere in the East Wing. Beowulf was close and he was in danger.

Please don't let me be too late... Please don't let me be too late... Please...

It seemed to take an eternity as he charged down the corridor. Pulling up in the entrance of a hallway, Wiglaf was aghast when he saw Beowulf sprawled on the floor, with His Majesty Perseus looming over him. "No..." he gasped, "OH NO!"

Hoping to find some way of helping, Wiglaf whipped his head about, looking left and right. Mid-turn, the flustered Ace paused as he glanced back over his shoulder at the- thankfully, not large -crowd milling like ants down below. Unleashing that golden spawn from Hell to wreak his special brand of unholy havoc on the unsuspecting public would endanger innocent lives and destroy property, and that still wouldn't help Beowulf in the end. It was then Wiglaf realized that not only must he rescue his best friend but he also had to protect the petrified palace populace.

Now, if he could just figure out how...

Many ideas came to mind, but every single one of them would end in failure due to the constraint of being a ghost. Dammit! There has to be something I can do...

At the far end of the hallway, there was a sudden glint which caught his eye. He craned his neck to peer intently through a gap between the wall and the relatively hulking form of the Queen. Then his eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face. Seized by inspiration, Wiglaf vanished, only to re-appear a moment later in his biped form, next to a bouquet of beautiful long-stemmed roses arranged in a glass vase, settled on a piecrust table. Spitting into his palms and rubbing them together, a tangible energy began to flow, surging into his fingers.

Notes: He is a ghost that can only be seen by Beowulf. He can interact with his friend easily and has the ability to move small objects (weighing half a pound or less) once a week. He has been honing this ability since his demise.

Once the pale apparition reached full strength, he wrapped both hands around the vase’s neck. Using his powers of concentration, he rocked the vase, gently at first, then more vigorously, emitting unintelligible grunts and snarled half-curses. With one final mighty shove, the vase hovered in mid-air briefly, before crashing onto the floor.

* * *

Roses laid amidst scattered fragments of glass in a puddle of water as a shadow passed over.

"Yeah, that's right! Nothing to see here, move along Queen Psychopath!" Wiglaf hollered, while the heavy staccato of footsteps faded down the hall. The smile on his face widening by several degrees, he added as an afterthought, laughing as well, "Tell me, Your Majesty... WHO'S YOUR DADDY?!"

A horrified cry, loud and clear, startled the horse out of his victory celebration, and he snapped back to attention to see the crow still trapped in the memories of the past. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Wiglaf scrambled towards Beowulf. When he arrived at his best friend's side, he immediately fell on his knees, leaned forward, and put his hands firmly on the Josiggy's shoulders, shaking them. "Snap out of it, Beo! It's okay, it's all okay. Perseus is gone now."

Finally, Wiglaf's words penetrated through Beowulf's trance, bringing him back to the here and now. He stilled as his eyes slowly began to focus on his faithful companion. "Wiglaf?!" Beowulf stared back at him, expression halfway between incredulity and relief. The ghost-in-question closed his eyes and chuckled as he eased back on his haunches. Moments later, Wiglaf seemed to recede before Beowulf's eyes, weakened by the exertion, as the heroic stallion became translucent. Shocked, Beowulf bolted upright with a gasp, one of his hands reaching out, as if to grab him. "No! Wait— please don't leave me! Not again..." he whispered fearfully, watching as Wiglaf faded more and more out of sight with every passing second until the benevolent spirit disappeared entirely.

"Don-Don't worry, Beo," reassured Wiglaf as his voice sounded progressively lethargic, "I'm... I'm not leaving you. Just... need to... rest... for a-awhile. 'Member what I... told you... on... that... night? When I... I came back?” And here he paused to catch his breath before continuing: "For as long as you need me, I’ll be there."