Asher Simon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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adventureic2024-04-07 12:45 pm
cursorily) wrote in adventureic2024-04-07 12:45 pm
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WHO: Broderick Best, Byron Best, Maya Rutkowski, and Asher Simon, and a few special guests
WHEN: Sunday evening, April 7
WHERE: Broderick's office
WHAT: A seance
WARNINGS: Ghosts and candles
WHEN: Sunday evening, April 7
WHERE: Broderick's office
WHAT: A seance
WARNINGS: Ghosts and candles
It wasn’t an ideal space, but the Head of Knowledge’s office was spacious enough that the round oak table he’d transfigured his desk into was perfectly serviceable for a casual summoning of vengeful, homicidal spirits. With the lights dimmed and the candles flickering steadily, the room was thick with anticipation, a cloying heaviness that lent itself to an eerie stillness.
Too still.
“You won’t suddenly self immolate if you talk,” Broderick intoned, eyes closed, posture improbably straight as he sat in his chair, opening himself up further to the other side. It was a deliberate process, like slowly tensing and releasing each muscle in the body.
Maya’s shoulders drop in tenseness oh so slightly at this news. “That’s good news.” As this is her first seance she doesn’t not want to mess it up. Especially since it’s for Asher.
"Disappointing," Byron chimed in, just to be contrarian.
Asher, on the other hand, simply nodded. It wasn't nerves, exactly, but he was far too tense and focused to offer any small talk. Caffeinated, too. Broderick warned that fatigue could bring bad energy to the seance, and Asher was pretty sure he was providing enough of that as it was.
Broderick had asked, too, if he had anything of Dorr's to bring to the table. Asher searched, but couldn't find anything that seemed helpful; he was, however, wearing a shirt she'd always complimented on him. It was pretty weak, even he had to admit, but it was worth a try.
After a moment, he remembered Brocerick's eyes were closed, and offered a short, verbal reply instead. "Okay."
In return, the medium gave Asher’s hand a tight squeeze in reassurance.
What most people failed to realize about a spirit circle (given the theatrics of film and tv) was how utterly dull it could be. Broderick of course, was entirely preoccupied with straddling the two worlds and finding the right keys to open the right doors. But for those sitting? It could be hours of absolutely nothing, of phantom fingers testing barriers or playfully blowing out candles, but ultimately passing through entirely uninterested in the proceedings. Broderick did his best to keep the open channel as throttled as possible, of course. The desperate loneliness of some ghosts meant opportunities to just be heard were attempted with a recklessness.
(Broderick did his best not to feel insulted at that. He was excellent company, thank you).
The darker, more vengeful spirits and the demonic entities were another thing entirely though. And Dorr was proving to be stubborn in eluding Broderick’s searching mind.
“Hm,” Broderick hummed suddenly, brow creasing. He didn’t need to have his eyes open to know that the candles closest to Maya suddenly began to flicker. “We have someone with us. Not –,” the furrow smoothed out. “Not Dorr. Laura.”
Any relaxation Maya had momentarily felt returned when the candles started flickering around her, then the name. If it was for her, there was no doubt in her mind which Laura it was, if only because she was pretty sure every other Laura in her life had not been killed by a werewolf. “Uh, who is this Laura here for?”
That seemed to get a rise out of the spirit: the candle directly in front of Maya was snuffed out pointedly.
“You, Maya,” Broderick said unnecessarily. He winced. “She’s a little offended you could ask that question.”
Asher looked over to Maya; he kept dragging people into things they shouldn't have to deal with. He stayed silent, though, and squeezed her hand.
“Doesn’t mean anyone else here didn’t have important Laura’s in their lives,” She muttered. Maya squeezed Asher’s hand back, trying to indicate that this was fine. Probably.
“Okay,” Maya tilted her chin up, prepared for the worst case scenario she’d ever imagined if she could talk to any of the friends she lost that day. “I’m ready.”
There was a long silence, anticipation building and building the longer it went on. Broderick opened his eyes and met Maya’s directly.
“I told you so,” he echoed, voice devoid of any judgemental tone though the circle could fill in the blanks themselves about how that message was actually delivered. Broderick’s expression abruptly creased in disapproval: “and I’m not going to repeat what she just said about Sharona.”
The candle in front of Maya was knocked over petulantly.
Whatever impact Maya was preparing herself for, it fizzled away when she put together what the I told you so was for. Laura had always been adamant that Maya and Sharona would become fast friends if Maya would quit being suspicious of how nice Sharona was. “Laura, please. This is not a good reason to not move on.” Maya was not sure that was the right thing to say either, she rushed to add, not wanting to miss the opportunity, “I’m sorry that I survived and you didn’t.”
The temperature of the room plunged suddenly, as dramatic as the childish display with the candle. The remaining flames flared brightly as wax poured down onto the tabletop in an unnatural (petty) display of power (showmanship).
Broderick's grip on Byron and Asher's hands tightened to the point of pain as he went rigid, a soft grunt of exertion expelled before he could control it.
"Dorr," he welcomed, recovering agilely. "You're upset."
On some buried, logical level, Asher understood he needed to keep his head. He knew he should be a calm presence, he should speak rationally and keep the temperature low. He knew this.
But her sudden, dramatic presence hit his nerves and he was ready to match her energy. "For fuck's sake. You couldn't even let Laura say goodbye?" he challenged.
The back of Asher’s chair rattled violently in answer.
“Dorr,” Broderick commanded, tone as even as possible. “We’re here to give you an opportunity to speak to Asher. You took what did not belong to you without my consent, so it is only with my will that I invite you in and by my will that you can stay. You will not harm anyone here today. You have been warned, what is your answer?"
Unlike the violation that was Dorr’s possession the first time, the change was a controlled one. The wizard’s breath held in his lungs as his head dropped forward, chin tucked to his chest for several long soundless moments.
Byron and Asher felt the tension in his hands first, their grip a necessary anchor lest the circle be broken by Dorr’s unpredictability.
Broderick’s head rose slowly, dark eyes pinning Maya to her seat. “Hello, Laura had to run.” Not a Welsh accent. Dorr grinned.
Asher felt a chill, remembering the last time he'd heard this tone and Dorr's sing-songy, taunting intonation channelling through Broderick. He almost broke the circle and called the whole thing off, but all that would do, again, was delay the problem. He refused to let his eyes flicker toward Maya; he didn't want to pull Dorr's attention anywhere but on him. "You obviously want to talk," he said, a forced calm in his voice. She would see through it. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready to listen before, but we're here now."
Dorr snorted. "You've been very rude about all this, sunshine."
"Last time we talked, you tried to kill me."
"Oh, hardly,” an eyeroll was a familiar thing to see on Broderick, but it felt wrong to watch Dorr do it. “Besides, that was weeks ago. I've moved on. I'm a whole new ghost."
Asher did not quite manage to stop his eyes from rolling. "What do you want, Dorr? Or what do you need?"
Dorr smirked, but turned her attention elsewhere instead. Looking at Byron, she said, "You're an interesting one. A little bit of everything here, huh."
Byron blinked back at Dorr, wearing his brother's face but looking extremely unlike his brother. It was unsettling. "We're not here to talk about me. I'm nobody."
That seemed to delight Dorr who strangled an obnoxious laugh. "I think everyone at this table but you knows that's not true."
Byron did his best to remain expressionless. "What do you want? What do you need?" he repeated firmly, echoing Asher.
A disgusted, annoyed sound poured from Dorr. "What about you?" to Maya. "Can you be interesting? If I want you to? Need you to?"
Maya bit her lip, thinking of how to respond to that sort of taunt from a person she didn’t know very much about. “Maybe,” she offered Dorr, trying to keep her voice neutral. To not betray any nervousness. “What would make this seance interesting to you?”
"Maybe something surprising? You're all so dour. What about you, my humble host?” Dorr shook Broderick’s hair out with a toss of her head as she settled deeper into the chair, clearly enjoying herself. “No hard feelings, right?"
The return of Broderick’s accent and cadence was jarring: his mannerisms so evidently different than Dorr’s. “I think you’ve miscalculated Dorr,” he answered easily, and the runes on his left forearm (amplifying his death magic) began to glow. “You’re not free to come and go as you please, you’re trapped here. With me. This is your only chance and we’re a very good audience: so talk.”
As Broderick's bearing shifted back again, another annoyed sound came with it. "Fine. You're looking well, Asher. Healthy." A glance at Maya, and then back to Asher. "I like that shirt on you."
Maya tilted her head slightly at the obvious attempt to spike some kind of jealousy, but didn’t say anything.
"Thank you." Asher's response was bone dry.
"And you've done well for yourself, here,” her tone was beginning to get snide, pointed, and more wax poured down onto the table. “All these charming little adventures you go on. It's so cute the way you've convinced all these people you're a good person."
"We're not here to talk about me, Dorr." Asher was revelling in the calm tone, now. He could use it to annoy Dorr, he'd realized, and that was what would help him retain it.
"I liked the one with the Hydras, especially,” she continued, voice like a razor blade, resentment dripping from every syllable. “It's always an interesting time when you drag me along."
Asher narrowed his eyes. "I don't drag you anywhere. You're following me."
"Ha! You think I don't have anything better to do follow you around?"
“You’re anchored,” Broderick realized, his sharp gaze taking over from Dorr’s irreverent one as he looked Asher over. It explained a lot, particularly about Dorr’s strength and the strain of trying to keep her at bay since she was amplified by something else, something potentially cursed to begin with. Dorr wasn’t just an unfinished spirit, she was a trapped one too.
“Where?”
Asher nearly jerked his hand out of Broderick's at the sudden burning sensation at his wrist; he kept the connection, but only just, and a sharp gasp escaped him. It was as if something had instantly heated all the metal in his watch.
Of course.
It was almost ten years earlier; Asher couldn't believe he'd forgotten. It was another year later before he even worked with Dorr again, and over the next decade, neither had ever mentioned the incident again. The watch was just his, part of his routine.
Something he'd misplaced a few times in the last month, unusually. Taken it off when it irritated his wrist. "Thanks for the watch, Dorr," he said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
Maya’s hands squeezed both Byron’s hand and Asher’s when it was clear that Asher was in pain, if only to remind herself that she could not let go. “Are you ok?” She asked Asher quietly.
He nodded; the watch was cool already, but his skin still tingled. "I'm fine."
"Lucky you," Dorr chimed in.
“Dorr,” Broderick interjected, tone stern. “You’ve been trying to get Asher’s attention for months and you have it. We can help you. What do you want from him?”
It was like she was twitching, fighting with herself not to say anything, or to let it all spill at once, or to come up with some venomous comeback, but what finally won was, "I shouldn't have to do this alone."
Asher was quiet for a moment. He hadn't expected honesty, and even with honesty, he hadn't expected vulnerability. "I know," he said softly.
"You know." Dorr's defenses were back up, and Asher knew that move well. "Sure. Next you'll tell me you're sorry you survived and I didn't."
She was purposely echoing Maya's words from earlier, and he rubbed his thumb gently over Maya's hand in something like an apology. His tone was quiet, but firm. "No. I'm not sorry I've survived."
"If you'd just come with me that night—"
"Then we'd both be dead."
"Or maybe that man would still be alive," Dorr insisted. "You've never thought of that, right? Both of us might still be alive."
And it was true, Asher never considered that. But all the what-ifs in the world wouldn't change their circumstances. "But you're not, Dorr. And you need to move on."
"I didn't want you dead, you know," she confessed suddenly. "Or you either, benevolent host. It was … just the only way I could think of not to face it alone."
Broderick said nothing to that because frankly, she wouldn’t be receiving any forgiveness or reassurance from him about that violation. Especially not when it was clear how accommodating and helpful he could have been from the beginning.
“You weren’t given a chance to complete your journey to the afterlife Dorr,” Broderick explained, leaving any discussion of what had transpired in that graveyard to Asher should he want to settle that further. “Whatever choices you made in life, whatever loneliness you felt before, you are not alone here now. We can’t follow where you go next, but we can be with you when you do make that journey if you’re prepared to go willingly.”
"Ugh," Dorr's tone returned. "You're boring. You're all being boring. I'd be bored to death if I weren't already." And then, as changeable as ever, "Fine. Whatever. Get me out of that watch and out of this conversation, and I'll make the journey. It can't be worse than getting lectured all the time."
But she seemed settled in for at least another moment.
Looking to Byron, she said, "Chin up. But give it a rest with the crystals, alright? They fucking sting."
Byron's mouth twitched. He tried not to look too smug. That was the point.
And around the circle, looking to Maya, she said, "Get out before you get attached. You're too nice for him."
It was Maya’s turn to rub her thumb over the top of Asher’s hand. It was less of an apology since she wasn’t really responsible for what Dorr said in any way and more meant to assure him that Dorr’s words didn’t matter.
For Asher, "You won't outrun it forever, sunshine. See you on the other side." Asher only nodded. This one, he'd considered. A lot.
And to finish the circle, for Broderick, "Keep your guard up. I'm not the worst thing out there watching,” to which the wizard had no visible reaction. He was used to things with far more insidious intent casing the boundaries he’d enacted. If there was a prickle of unease, he ignored it.
“You have my promise that I will free you from the watch so that you can complete your journey,” Broderick’s head tipped forwards and his eyes shut, some low words uttered at a pace faster than what should have been possible, the language indiscernible to those in the circle. “Go now in peace Dorr.”
It took a few seconds, pregnant with anticipation, before the temperature of the room rose gradually. Each candle on the table waved back into regular stillness, the room less cloyingly thick with hostility with every passing moment.
Broderick inhaled deeply as he opened his eyes, his focus still inward. He was tired, these things always took incredible energy, and while the possession wasn’t long, containing Dorr’s energy took considerable effort and he could sense that in the waning energies of everyone else in the room. But they weren’t done.
“Don’t break the circle yet,” he warned quietly, knowing that this wasn’t exactly to plan, especially not after discovering the necessary steps needed to send Dorr on her way once and for all. But the connection was strong, and he had to try.
He cleared his throat and barreled into it like he did everything else.
“Bonaventure Best,” he commanded, “if you are in this plane, in this building, commune with us and move among us. You are called to speak.”
A silence followed and not even a flame flickered in the nothingness.
It was neither a reassurance or a disappointment, even as Broderick skimmed the shores of the veil, searching in case their Father was being a petty bastard even in death. It was an answer though, and Broderick would take it.
He squeezed Byron’s hand briefly as he blinked back to full awareness, moving on like he’d never uttered the words in the first place. “Okay then. I’m closing the circle, my gratitude to those beyond the living plane, that they allowed us to walk in safety and that we will continue to do so once we leave here today.”
Like strings being cut, the tension in the room suddenly broke completely, like Broderick’s power finally released them all from its hold. “Thank you,” he cleared his throat, “all of you, I know that this wasn’t easy to participate in. You can let go now, but be careful about the pins and needles. It’s a bitch.”
But Asher was still watching Broderick, because he saw something—or thought he saw something. After months of acclimating himself to his own gentle glow, it was startling to see something so harsh and striking flash in Broderick's eyes. Had he just imagined it? It was there and gone so quickly, perhaps it was just the natural release from breaking the circle.
It didn't feel that way, though. It felt aggressive, almost threatening. "You alright?" he asked quietly.
Broderick shifted back into his chair, that rigid posture softening muscle by muscle as the chairback took the weight of it.
“I’m fine,” he dismissed tiredly, but sincerely. The standard searing ache that split his skull in two was only just starting, but was nothing anyone here needed to be made aware of or worry about (that he felt a pang of need for someone in particular who was not currently present but surely waiting, was a little jarring). He smiled at Asher, freed hand coming up to squeeze his thigh.
“Are you okay?”
"Sure," Asher said readily. In truth, it hadn't been anywhere near as bad as Asher imagined all those nights lying awake. It wasn't pleasant, by any means, but it all could have gone much worse. With a sudden realization, he unlatched his watch and tossed it to the center of the table. "It's too bad. I really like that watch."
Maya frowned at the watch she’d retrieved from the library before Asher & Broderick’s original mission that started all of this. “Does it have to be destroyed in order to release her?”
"I don't … want it," Asher said haltingly. He was pretty sure the exorcism would at least damage the thing, anyway, but that wasn't the real problem with it now.
“We’ll destroy it,” Broderick reassured: the wizard didn’t want to leave anything to chance where Dorr was concerned. “I’ll get you a watch from a box of Froot Loops,” he gave Asher’s thigh a final squeeze, winking all the while, before he shared a brief nod with his brother.
“Alright, let’s not keep her waiting any longer than she has already. You might want to step back a bit,” he warned dryly, the knuckles in his hands giving a satisfying pop as he flexed them. “Sometimes there’s ectoplasm and it’s absolute murder to get it out of your clothes.”
Too still.
“You won’t suddenly self immolate if you talk,” Broderick intoned, eyes closed, posture improbably straight as he sat in his chair, opening himself up further to the other side. It was a deliberate process, like slowly tensing and releasing each muscle in the body.
Maya’s shoulders drop in tenseness oh so slightly at this news. “That’s good news.” As this is her first seance she doesn’t not want to mess it up. Especially since it’s for Asher.
"Disappointing," Byron chimed in, just to be contrarian.
Asher, on the other hand, simply nodded. It wasn't nerves, exactly, but he was far too tense and focused to offer any small talk. Caffeinated, too. Broderick warned that fatigue could bring bad energy to the seance, and Asher was pretty sure he was providing enough of that as it was.
Broderick had asked, too, if he had anything of Dorr's to bring to the table. Asher searched, but couldn't find anything that seemed helpful; he was, however, wearing a shirt she'd always complimented on him. It was pretty weak, even he had to admit, but it was worth a try.
After a moment, he remembered Brocerick's eyes were closed, and offered a short, verbal reply instead. "Okay."
In return, the medium gave Asher’s hand a tight squeeze in reassurance.
What most people failed to realize about a spirit circle (given the theatrics of film and tv) was how utterly dull it could be. Broderick of course, was entirely preoccupied with straddling the two worlds and finding the right keys to open the right doors. But for those sitting? It could be hours of absolutely nothing, of phantom fingers testing barriers or playfully blowing out candles, but ultimately passing through entirely uninterested in the proceedings. Broderick did his best to keep the open channel as throttled as possible, of course. The desperate loneliness of some ghosts meant opportunities to just be heard were attempted with a recklessness.
(Broderick did his best not to feel insulted at that. He was excellent company, thank you).
The darker, more vengeful spirits and the demonic entities were another thing entirely though. And Dorr was proving to be stubborn in eluding Broderick’s searching mind.
“Hm,” Broderick hummed suddenly, brow creasing. He didn’t need to have his eyes open to know that the candles closest to Maya suddenly began to flicker. “We have someone with us. Not –,” the furrow smoothed out. “Not Dorr. Laura.”
Any relaxation Maya had momentarily felt returned when the candles started flickering around her, then the name. If it was for her, there was no doubt in her mind which Laura it was, if only because she was pretty sure every other Laura in her life had not been killed by a werewolf. “Uh, who is this Laura here for?”
That seemed to get a rise out of the spirit: the candle directly in front of Maya was snuffed out pointedly.
“You, Maya,” Broderick said unnecessarily. He winced. “She’s a little offended you could ask that question.”
Asher looked over to Maya; he kept dragging people into things they shouldn't have to deal with. He stayed silent, though, and squeezed her hand.
“Doesn’t mean anyone else here didn’t have important Laura’s in their lives,” She muttered. Maya squeezed Asher’s hand back, trying to indicate that this was fine. Probably.
“Okay,” Maya tilted her chin up, prepared for the worst case scenario she’d ever imagined if she could talk to any of the friends she lost that day. “I’m ready.”
There was a long silence, anticipation building and building the longer it went on. Broderick opened his eyes and met Maya’s directly.
“I told you so,” he echoed, voice devoid of any judgemental tone though the circle could fill in the blanks themselves about how that message was actually delivered. Broderick’s expression abruptly creased in disapproval: “and I’m not going to repeat what she just said about Sharona.”
The candle in front of Maya was knocked over petulantly.
Whatever impact Maya was preparing herself for, it fizzled away when she put together what the I told you so was for. Laura had always been adamant that Maya and Sharona would become fast friends if Maya would quit being suspicious of how nice Sharona was. “Laura, please. This is not a good reason to not move on.” Maya was not sure that was the right thing to say either, she rushed to add, not wanting to miss the opportunity, “I’m sorry that I survived and you didn’t.”
The temperature of the room plunged suddenly, as dramatic as the childish display with the candle. The remaining flames flared brightly as wax poured down onto the tabletop in an unnatural (petty) display of power (showmanship).
Broderick's grip on Byron and Asher's hands tightened to the point of pain as he went rigid, a soft grunt of exertion expelled before he could control it.
"Dorr," he welcomed, recovering agilely. "You're upset."
On some buried, logical level, Asher understood he needed to keep his head. He knew he should be a calm presence, he should speak rationally and keep the temperature low. He knew this.
But her sudden, dramatic presence hit his nerves and he was ready to match her energy. "For fuck's sake. You couldn't even let Laura say goodbye?" he challenged.
The back of Asher’s chair rattled violently in answer.
“Dorr,” Broderick commanded, tone as even as possible. “We’re here to give you an opportunity to speak to Asher. You took what did not belong to you without my consent, so it is only with my will that I invite you in and by my will that you can stay. You will not harm anyone here today. You have been warned, what is your answer?"
Unlike the violation that was Dorr’s possession the first time, the change was a controlled one. The wizard’s breath held in his lungs as his head dropped forward, chin tucked to his chest for several long soundless moments.
Byron and Asher felt the tension in his hands first, their grip a necessary anchor lest the circle be broken by Dorr’s unpredictability.
Broderick’s head rose slowly, dark eyes pinning Maya to her seat. “Hello, Laura had to run.” Not a Welsh accent. Dorr grinned.
Asher felt a chill, remembering the last time he'd heard this tone and Dorr's sing-songy, taunting intonation channelling through Broderick. He almost broke the circle and called the whole thing off, but all that would do, again, was delay the problem. He refused to let his eyes flicker toward Maya; he didn't want to pull Dorr's attention anywhere but on him. "You obviously want to talk," he said, a forced calm in his voice. She would see through it. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready to listen before, but we're here now."
Dorr snorted. "You've been very rude about all this, sunshine."
"Last time we talked, you tried to kill me."
"Oh, hardly,” an eyeroll was a familiar thing to see on Broderick, but it felt wrong to watch Dorr do it. “Besides, that was weeks ago. I've moved on. I'm a whole new ghost."
Asher did not quite manage to stop his eyes from rolling. "What do you want, Dorr? Or what do you need?"
Dorr smirked, but turned her attention elsewhere instead. Looking at Byron, she said, "You're an interesting one. A little bit of everything here, huh."
Byron blinked back at Dorr, wearing his brother's face but looking extremely unlike his brother. It was unsettling. "We're not here to talk about me. I'm nobody."
That seemed to delight Dorr who strangled an obnoxious laugh. "I think everyone at this table but you knows that's not true."
Byron did his best to remain expressionless. "What do you want? What do you need?" he repeated firmly, echoing Asher.
A disgusted, annoyed sound poured from Dorr. "What about you?" to Maya. "Can you be interesting? If I want you to? Need you to?"
Maya bit her lip, thinking of how to respond to that sort of taunt from a person she didn’t know very much about. “Maybe,” she offered Dorr, trying to keep her voice neutral. To not betray any nervousness. “What would make this seance interesting to you?”
"Maybe something surprising? You're all so dour. What about you, my humble host?” Dorr shook Broderick’s hair out with a toss of her head as she settled deeper into the chair, clearly enjoying herself. “No hard feelings, right?"
The return of Broderick’s accent and cadence was jarring: his mannerisms so evidently different than Dorr’s. “I think you’ve miscalculated Dorr,” he answered easily, and the runes on his left forearm (amplifying his death magic) began to glow. “You’re not free to come and go as you please, you’re trapped here. With me. This is your only chance and we’re a very good audience: so talk.”
As Broderick's bearing shifted back again, another annoyed sound came with it. "Fine. You're looking well, Asher. Healthy." A glance at Maya, and then back to Asher. "I like that shirt on you."
Maya tilted her head slightly at the obvious attempt to spike some kind of jealousy, but didn’t say anything.
"Thank you." Asher's response was bone dry.
"And you've done well for yourself, here,” her tone was beginning to get snide, pointed, and more wax poured down onto the table. “All these charming little adventures you go on. It's so cute the way you've convinced all these people you're a good person."
"We're not here to talk about me, Dorr." Asher was revelling in the calm tone, now. He could use it to annoy Dorr, he'd realized, and that was what would help him retain it.
"I liked the one with the Hydras, especially,” she continued, voice like a razor blade, resentment dripping from every syllable. “It's always an interesting time when you drag me along."
Asher narrowed his eyes. "I don't drag you anywhere. You're following me."
"Ha! You think I don't have anything better to do follow you around?"
“You’re anchored,” Broderick realized, his sharp gaze taking over from Dorr’s irreverent one as he looked Asher over. It explained a lot, particularly about Dorr’s strength and the strain of trying to keep her at bay since she was amplified by something else, something potentially cursed to begin with. Dorr wasn’t just an unfinished spirit, she was a trapped one too.
“Where?”
Asher nearly jerked his hand out of Broderick's at the sudden burning sensation at his wrist; he kept the connection, but only just, and a sharp gasp escaped him. It was as if something had instantly heated all the metal in his watch.
Of course.
'You should take it.' She'd caught him admiring the watch, its silver links and immaculately constructed face. He didn't know this new getaway expert well; she seemed chaotic, almost unhinged in her enthusiasm.
He smiled but shook his head. "It's not what we're here for. We're supposed to be like ghosts, remember? Leave no trace."
Her frown was exaggerated but she moved on; they found what they were looking for and got out with no one the wiser.
Except after, only just outside, "Catch!" She tossed the watch his way. "What? He shouldn't have left it just lying around, any little goblin could've made off with it." She winked and teleported away, leaving the rest of them to get away on their own.
It was almost ten years earlier; Asher couldn't believe he'd forgotten. It was another year later before he even worked with Dorr again, and over the next decade, neither had ever mentioned the incident again. The watch was just his, part of his routine.
Something he'd misplaced a few times in the last month, unusually. Taken it off when it irritated his wrist. "Thanks for the watch, Dorr," he said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
Maya’s hands squeezed both Byron’s hand and Asher’s when it was clear that Asher was in pain, if only to remind herself that she could not let go. “Are you ok?” She asked Asher quietly.
He nodded; the watch was cool already, but his skin still tingled. "I'm fine."
"Lucky you," Dorr chimed in.
“Dorr,” Broderick interjected, tone stern. “You’ve been trying to get Asher’s attention for months and you have it. We can help you. What do you want from him?”
It was like she was twitching, fighting with herself not to say anything, or to let it all spill at once, or to come up with some venomous comeback, but what finally won was, "I shouldn't have to do this alone."
Asher was quiet for a moment. He hadn't expected honesty, and even with honesty, he hadn't expected vulnerability. "I know," he said softly.
"You know." Dorr's defenses were back up, and Asher knew that move well. "Sure. Next you'll tell me you're sorry you survived and I didn't."
She was purposely echoing Maya's words from earlier, and he rubbed his thumb gently over Maya's hand in something like an apology. His tone was quiet, but firm. "No. I'm not sorry I've survived."
"If you'd just come with me that night—"
"Then we'd both be dead."
"Or maybe that man would still be alive," Dorr insisted. "You've never thought of that, right? Both of us might still be alive."
And it was true, Asher never considered that. But all the what-ifs in the world wouldn't change their circumstances. "But you're not, Dorr. And you need to move on."
"I didn't want you dead, you know," she confessed suddenly. "Or you either, benevolent host. It was … just the only way I could think of not to face it alone."
Broderick said nothing to that because frankly, she wouldn’t be receiving any forgiveness or reassurance from him about that violation. Especially not when it was clear how accommodating and helpful he could have been from the beginning.
“You weren’t given a chance to complete your journey to the afterlife Dorr,” Broderick explained, leaving any discussion of what had transpired in that graveyard to Asher should he want to settle that further. “Whatever choices you made in life, whatever loneliness you felt before, you are not alone here now. We can’t follow where you go next, but we can be with you when you do make that journey if you’re prepared to go willingly.”
"Ugh," Dorr's tone returned. "You're boring. You're all being boring. I'd be bored to death if I weren't already." And then, as changeable as ever, "Fine. Whatever. Get me out of that watch and out of this conversation, and I'll make the journey. It can't be worse than getting lectured all the time."
But she seemed settled in for at least another moment.
Looking to Byron, she said, "Chin up. But give it a rest with the crystals, alright? They fucking sting."
Byron's mouth twitched. He tried not to look too smug. That was the point.
And around the circle, looking to Maya, she said, "Get out before you get attached. You're too nice for him."
It was Maya’s turn to rub her thumb over the top of Asher’s hand. It was less of an apology since she wasn’t really responsible for what Dorr said in any way and more meant to assure him that Dorr’s words didn’t matter.
For Asher, "You won't outrun it forever, sunshine. See you on the other side." Asher only nodded. This one, he'd considered. A lot.
And to finish the circle, for Broderick, "Keep your guard up. I'm not the worst thing out there watching,” to which the wizard had no visible reaction. He was used to things with far more insidious intent casing the boundaries he’d enacted. If there was a prickle of unease, he ignored it.
“You have my promise that I will free you from the watch so that you can complete your journey,” Broderick’s head tipped forwards and his eyes shut, some low words uttered at a pace faster than what should have been possible, the language indiscernible to those in the circle. “Go now in peace Dorr.”
It took a few seconds, pregnant with anticipation, before the temperature of the room rose gradually. Each candle on the table waved back into regular stillness, the room less cloyingly thick with hostility with every passing moment.
Broderick inhaled deeply as he opened his eyes, his focus still inward. He was tired, these things always took incredible energy, and while the possession wasn’t long, containing Dorr’s energy took considerable effort and he could sense that in the waning energies of everyone else in the room. But they weren’t done.
“Don’t break the circle yet,” he warned quietly, knowing that this wasn’t exactly to plan, especially not after discovering the necessary steps needed to send Dorr on her way once and for all. But the connection was strong, and he had to try.
He cleared his throat and barreled into it like he did everything else.
“Bonaventure Best,” he commanded, “if you are in this plane, in this building, commune with us and move among us. You are called to speak.”
A silence followed and not even a flame flickered in the nothingness.
It was neither a reassurance or a disappointment, even as Broderick skimmed the shores of the veil, searching in case their Father was being a petty bastard even in death. It was an answer though, and Broderick would take it.
He squeezed Byron’s hand briefly as he blinked back to full awareness, moving on like he’d never uttered the words in the first place. “Okay then. I’m closing the circle, my gratitude to those beyond the living plane, that they allowed us to walk in safety and that we will continue to do so once we leave here today.”
Like strings being cut, the tension in the room suddenly broke completely, like Broderick’s power finally released them all from its hold. “Thank you,” he cleared his throat, “all of you, I know that this wasn’t easy to participate in. You can let go now, but be careful about the pins and needles. It’s a bitch.”
But Asher was still watching Broderick, because he saw something—or thought he saw something. After months of acclimating himself to his own gentle glow, it was startling to see something so harsh and striking flash in Broderick's eyes. Had he just imagined it? It was there and gone so quickly, perhaps it was just the natural release from breaking the circle.
It didn't feel that way, though. It felt aggressive, almost threatening. "You alright?" he asked quietly.
Broderick shifted back into his chair, that rigid posture softening muscle by muscle as the chairback took the weight of it.
“I’m fine,” he dismissed tiredly, but sincerely. The standard searing ache that split his skull in two was only just starting, but was nothing anyone here needed to be made aware of or worry about (that he felt a pang of need for someone in particular who was not currently present but surely waiting, was a little jarring). He smiled at Asher, freed hand coming up to squeeze his thigh.
“Are you okay?”
"Sure," Asher said readily. In truth, it hadn't been anywhere near as bad as Asher imagined all those nights lying awake. It wasn't pleasant, by any means, but it all could have gone much worse. With a sudden realization, he unlatched his watch and tossed it to the center of the table. "It's too bad. I really like that watch."
Maya frowned at the watch she’d retrieved from the library before Asher & Broderick’s original mission that started all of this. “Does it have to be destroyed in order to release her?”
"I don't … want it," Asher said haltingly. He was pretty sure the exorcism would at least damage the thing, anyway, but that wasn't the real problem with it now.
“We’ll destroy it,” Broderick reassured: the wizard didn’t want to leave anything to chance where Dorr was concerned. “I’ll get you a watch from a box of Froot Loops,” he gave Asher’s thigh a final squeeze, winking all the while, before he shared a brief nod with his brother.
“Alright, let’s not keep her waiting any longer than she has already. You might want to step back a bit,” he warned dryly, the knuckles in his hands giving a satisfying pop as he flexed them. “Sometimes there’s ectoplasm and it’s absolute murder to get it out of your clothes.”
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