Beyond the locked door was just what the professor had said: a long, dark hallway.
The passage stretched away into the murky distance, numerous etched doorways branching off to either side. The wall-mounted candles were here too, running in even rows and casting little pools of dim, flickering light. Luigi closed the entrance to the foyer behind him and waited, ready to face the next wave of ghosts, but for the first time that evening there really did seem to be nothing. After a few long moments he clipped the Poltergust nozzle back into its holster and reached for the Gameboy Horror.
The study E. Gadd had pointed out flashed dully on the screen, a key shaped emblem spinning slowly in front of it. It was the second right hand door in the hall. He made his way to it quickly and began coaxing the lock, keeping one eye on the dark expanse to his left.
After a few moments of fiddling the door swung inward with a low, deep-throated creak.
It was unexpectedly bright inside, washed over with the light of a fire nested in an old stone hearth. The cracking of it filled the room, and the air wafting out at him was stiflingly hot. For a moment Luigi considered leaving the door open to let in some fresh air, but the risk of something slipping in from the hall weighed too heavily on his mind for that.
Cautiously Luigi stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
His boots disappeared almost a full inch into the rug as he made his way forward, sinking into the thick, plush strands. A massive, equally plush armchair was sitting immediately in front of the fire, and shelves of cloth bound books covered the walls. The massive, well stuffed desk in the corner was the only indication the place was a study at all, rather than just a sitting room.
Luigi kept his eyes peeled for fresh ghosts, but this room too seemed to be empty. It was a bit easier to accept here given how bright the fire was, but the lights still weren't working--a few tugs at the pull-string lamp confirmed this--which gave him pause. He waited a long moment just to be sure then turned his attention to the contents of the desk.
There was a perfect storm of papers slurred across its surface. Some looked as old as the mansion itself, thin, yellow, and ragged, but there were many which were new. Scrawling notes littered these fresh sheets, accented every once and again with doodles of contraptions ranging from rockets to some sort of outlandish pump. Luigi could only assume these belonged to the professor.
He shuffled through them quickly, only reading what he needed for identification purposes. They were hardly his business after all, and it didn't seem like there was anything that could help him.
There was one set of papers, though, which was different from the rest. They were in much better condition, carefully lumped together in a tidy stack. Much of it was mathematical equations he didn't even bother with; what caught his attention, though, were the pictures of ghosts doodled haphazardly on the third page. He recognized his orange friend and the purple punchers immediately, but there were many he did not. Luigi picked up the stack carefully, squinting at the notes in the beam of the flashlight. The writing was particularly loose here, as if it had been written quickly, or very late at night.
Figures the only thing he needed to read was illegible.
There was a rustling behind him.
The sound was small, but in the quiet of the room plenty loud enough to get his attention. Luigi slapped the papers down on the desk and whipped around just in time to be bludgeoned by a flying hardbound book.
It wasn't that hard of a blow, but the shock of it was more than enough to send him tumbling against the desk. There was a slosh from an old ink well and a clatter as the lamp fell into the mess of papers. He looked frantically over the empty room then behind him just in time to see the projectile loop upward towards the ceiling.
He looked up.
Books were everywhere, flying books. They were caught in some sort of loop against the roof, the gentle flapping of their pages blending seamlessly into the sound of the fire. Every once and again one would fall, dipping almost into head smacking range, but something would catch it and pull it up, drawing it back into sync with the rest.
Luigi stared in disbelief, pressing against the desk and out of the way of their dripping, falling dance. That hadn't been there when he had come in had it?
He swept the room again, looking for anything else he had missed, but it was as empty as before. Or was it? Luigi squinted at the armchair, heart rate ticking up a notch or two. There was a shadow hanging over it, shifting unnaturally in the light of the fire. He fumbled with his flashlight and hovered it over the spot; the shadow intensified, rounding out against the back of the chair and the wall behind. There was a displeased moan.
Luigi watched in horror as the shape of a man melted into existence, pale eyes squinting as it turned its head away from the beam. Luigi jerked the light away, mentally debating the use of diving behind the desk. The ghost rubbed its eyes and began to look around the room, gaze resting on his shaking figure with something like a start. It didn't make any move, just sat there and stared like some sort of startled animal. There was something about the face, or more specifically the eyes; they were hollow and confused as if the lights upstairs weren't working quite right.
Another book fell on Luigi's head.
He yelped and jarred to the side. Another--this one most likely an encyclopedia--dropped to the floor only inches away. One after the next, more books followed its example. Luigi shied towards the wall as they fell, bouncing like hail off the chair and desk, tumbling precariously close to the fire. The ghost started to rise from its seat, now thoroughly startled. It couldn't seem to understand what was going on.
Luigi chose that moment to dive forward with the Poltergust.
The ghost's body lurched as the suction caught it, and it howled. Luigi was hit with resistance the likes of which he had never felt before. He was pulled to the ground as the ghost bucked forward, and dragged yelping towards the grate. At the last second the ghost swerved and Luigi was jerked to the left. He dug in his heels and held tight to the nozzle, sliding headlong for the next bit of furniture. Books baubled across the floor in an exhilaration, fanning their pages and doing everything they could to add to the chaos.
Then it was over. With one last howl the ghost was sucked into the machine. The fallen lamp flicked on with an electric buzz.
Luigi scrabbled to his feet and took a few uneven breaths. After a moment he began to collect the fallen books, particularly those close to the fire, and set them shakily on the desk. The stack of papers lay on the messy surface looking a bit more ruffled than before. Luigi still wanted to look over those, but not here. After a moment of hesitation he decided to take them with. He could return them to the professor when he went back to the lab.
He picked up the whole stack carefully; it seemed awfully awkward and heavy for some reason. Luigi started to fold the papers in half along the preexisting creases, then froze as two small keys fell from between the pages. He hesitated again then carefully pocketed the papers, picked up the keys, and left the room.
The dark, cool hall seemed almost welcoming after the study. Everything was quiet, and there were still no signs of ghosts, so Luigi checked the new keys in the Gameboy Horror. A swirling loading symbol booted as the first key was slid into the niche, and he waited, tapping his foot and casting the occasional glance down the dimly lit passage. After a few moments of thinking the screen switched back to the map, highlighting the next door over.
Luigi stepped in that direction without bothering to try the second key then froze and glanced down at the Gameboy Horror again. There was an extra door between the study and the new room; a door that was most definitely not on the map.
It didn't make a whole lot of sense. Luigi didn't see how the professor could overlook a whole room, especially if he had been here as long as he said. Yet there it was, bleak, old, and peeling but very much real. He reached out and tried the handle: it wasn't locked. It opened smoothly to reveal a second, equally long hallway. Another thing that was most definitely not on the map.
A fresh round of unease trickled through his system, and he shuddered. Of all the things there were to deal with right now, that did not need to be added to the list. He shut the door to the offending passage, stepped briskly to the next room, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
This chamber was a bedroom.
There was a horrible draft through the space, billowing the curtains at the far end of the room and plucking at the bedspread with playful fingers. Once again Luigi braced himself for an onslaught of ghosts, but again it never came.
He took a deep, calming breath and looked over the room again, but still couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. There weren't many places to hide something out of the ordinary in here: unlike the study, this room was rather bare. There were signs that it had been better furnished once upon a time--light patches of wallpaper were furniture had rested--but all that was left now was a bed, a night stand, and a cracked vanity next to the curtains.
That was the strangest thing, to be honest. He could catch glimpses of a shattered window behind the curtains as they blew. It wasn't that a broken window in and of itself was odd, but he could have sworn there was more interior beyond this room, or at least that's how the mystery hall made it seem. Slowly, eyes and ears peeled for nasty surprises, Luigi made his way in that direction.
The air coming through the window was cold and damp, curtains stained dark where rain had blown in. The near side of the vanity was wet as well, and its warped surface suggested this hadn't been a one time occurrence. Luigi caught the flowing curtains and pulled them aside. Behind it was the remains of a double window and a rooftop courtyard beyond.
It was a small space, hemmed in on three sides by heavily windowed mansion walls. There were a few chilly potted plants and the decrepit remains of a bench, but for the most part the space was dedicated to empty clothes lines.
It actually made a lot more sense than Luigi had given it credit for. He and Toadsworth had a long discussion about it once: how spots like this were used to let natural light into the castle. Of course they had been talking about Peach's castle at the time, but the same principles applied.
The fourth side of the courtyard was a sort of fenced off balcony, showcasing a motley black sky and a wooded sliver of yard. That's where Luigi's eyes lingered the longest: there was something odd about the ground over there. Things were scattered across it, oddly regular things. Some sort of stones maybe? A few of them could even be sculptures or... Oh heavens no.
Luigi leaned out a little further, straining his eyes against the muffled moonlight. The more he looked the more certain be became. He was looking at a graveyard.
Perfect place for ghosts indeed. A massive, gloomy castle with an honest to goodness graveyard in the back. No wonder this place was so full of specters.
Luigi shuddered and turned away from the window. The whole thing was enlightening but ultimately not very helpful. There were drawers in the vanity and nightstand, he would check those just to be thorough, then move o-
He choked and jerked backwards against the window. Through the flailing cloth of the curtains he could make out the shape of another ghost. She was coming right at him with one hand stretched out. Her ethereal hair billowed around her lighter than air, eyes dark, expression unfocused and confused.
Luigi yelled and grabbed for the Poltergust. There was a crash as the curtain rod was pulled to the floor. The ghost shied at the noise and her eyes half focused, latching onto his face in confusion as if she hadn’t noticed him before. He pointed the vacuum nozzle and pulled the trigger.
The ghost didn’t struggle like the last one. She just hovered there looking shocked, wind stretching at her ghostly nightdress, then disappeared down the tube. Luigi leaned back and swallowed, bits of broken glass crunching under his boots. He should have never turned his back on the room. Never do that again…
Luigi didn’t know how he was going to last a full night of this.
Once the lights came on (and his heart stopped attacking his ribs), Luigi went on with his final check of the room. The search resulted in two more keys from the vanity drawer, but that was it.
He took a moment to sort through the rest of his stash of keys as well. It was turning into quite the collection, after all; he might as well take the time to see where they went. It turned out it was a good idea too. Only three in the bunch belonged to doors anywhere near here; the rest were flung across the four winds, peppered through every corner of the castle. Luigi's knees began to feel funny as he scrolled through page after page of map. Just how big was this place anyways?
He took a deep breath, navigated back to his current location, and pinpointed the nearest unlock-able door.
The next two rooms were nothing special. The first was another bedroom, only this one swarming with the familiar orange ghosts. He was almost glad to see them again. Almost. A few minutes of vacuuming later they were gone, and that was that. The second was a little harder to identify at first. It was almost like a bathroom but missing some things: it had two huge mirrors and a single wash basin, but that was it. There were a few old shelves too with things Luigi could only guess had been beauty products once. It was also the nest of a rather nasty set of purple punchers. Ultimately he dubbed it the powder room, and once he was sure there was nothing to find there, left it behind.
As things went on Luigi was becoming increasingly unsettled. There were numerous reasons for this, but what bothered him most, more than the ghosts or anything else, was the complete lack of trace from Mario. So far he had found nothing: no sound, no sign of his passing; not so much as one muddy boot print or evidence of a scuffle. With every room he visited Luigi was growing more certain he had taken the wrong hall.
Not that he had much choice in the matter, all the other passages were locked. But that inconvenience didn't change the facts. Any way you sliced it, though, there was only one more chamber close by to which he had the key. If that didn’t turn anything up, he was in for a long walk to the next door, if he could reach it at all.
If worse came to worst there was always the mystery passage, but Luigi sincerely hoped it didn't come to that.
The final room was a nursery. Its walls were the cheeriest he had seen yet, blown over with a fountain of vintage flowers, all half-faded with time. Toys of all sorts stared down at him from shelves or lay in hazardous heaps on the floor. A roundabout of unraveling yoshi dolls spun idly over a crib.
Luigi's expression set when he wasn't attacked right away. He began to search the room, edging around it cautiously and keeping his back to the walls. There was nothing in the crib or under it, the roof, floor, and shelves were clear, but he wasn't fooled. If the lights were off there was a ghost. The question was how to draw it out.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. He had a pretty good guess on how to draw it out, he just wasn't keen on trying it. Stupid mistakes were one thing, playing bait was completely another. As the seconds dragged on, though, it didn't seem like he had another option.
There was a window in this room as well, this one facing the front lawn. Luigi looked over the place one last time, then in the least suspicious way possible, faced it, turning his back on the room. He didn't look at the lawn, though, instead watched the reflection in the glass, waiting for the movement he was sure would come.
He wasn't disappointed. After a few nerve-wracking seconds there was a shudder of blue over the crib.
The ghost was shy it would seem and didn't solidify all the way. A moment later and the flicker disappeared. Luigi realized he was holding his breath and began to breathe again, soft and natural as he could. He made a show of inspecting the windowsill and curtains, eyes locked to the reflections in the glass. After a time the flicker came again but not over the crib anymore. The ghost had inched half way across the room and was now slinking around the rocking horse.
It was getting closer, and for all intents and purposes, was still invisible. Enough was enough. Luigi spun around, blasting the spot with his flashlight. There was a sharp, shocked cry and a hunched little shadow was thrown across the floor.
"That's not very nice!" said a high, displeased voice. There was a bubble of blue, and an equally displeased figure came into existence, hovering over the rocking horse.
It was a baby. He couldn't have been more than a year old.
Luigi stepped back in shock. The baby seemed to like this and chirped out a giggle.
"Are you here to play with me?" It asked, giving him a two-toothed, rather unsettling grin. Luigi wasn't ready to talk to a ghost yet, but it didn't appear to matter. The baby laughed again and rose into the air, pulling a rattle from nowhere.
As soon as he began to shake it, the room went wrong.
The rocking horse was the first to be affected. It started to rock, slowly at first then faster, until the sheer force of the motion started it inching across the floor. Something was battering the inside of the toy box, trying desperately to get out, and the shelves on the walls shook with the stamp of marching tin soldiers, all their eyes fixed on Luigi as if looking for a way to reach him. The stuffed animals had no such dilemma; they simply jumped into the air and started to fly, turning end over end as they hurtled in his direction.
Luigi sidestepped the wind-up car attacking his boots and ducked as a teddy bear went whizzing over his head. The baby was suspended at the center of the chaos, laughing and shaking the life out of his rattle. Luigi made a dart for him, Poltergust raised, then yelped as another animal slapped against the back of his head and stuck there like velcro, spongey paws pulling his hair. He made a futile attempt to get the thing off then dodged to avoid an elephant, managing to step on the deranged car in the process. He fell hard.
The Poltergust canister didn’t soften the impact. Luigi groaned and rolled off the thing, too dazed to care about much else at the moment. Another set of animals latched onto him, the first clinging to his sleeve and the other two onto his overalls. Only when he tried to get up again did he realize the latter had stuck to the rug as well, effectively locking him to the floor.
That's when the chest crashed open.
An enormous rubber ball flew out of it, flying straight for his face at terminal force. Unable to do much else, he jerked up the Poltergust and flipped the switch. In all honesty, Luigi wasn't expecting this to do much (the motion was becoming something of a reflex at this point) but somehow, miraculously, it worked. The ball slammed into the nozzle hard and stuck there, rubber squelching under the suction.
The baby gave an amused croon at his predicament. It lowered to the ground and crawled towards him with great purpose, still wearing that lack-toothed, malicious grin. Luigi did the only thing he could think of immobile as he was: launch the ball.
It hit the ghost right in the head, sending it tumbling backward. There was a clatter as all the toys dropped to the floor then all was quiet, accented by a few sniffles.
Luigi stood up quickly, kicked the stuffed animals, car, and anything else in his vicinity away, then hesitated. He knew he should charge, catch the ghost now, but he couldn't shake the feeling it would be kicking the thing while it was down. It was just a baby for heaven's sake.
He didn't get much time to ponder this moral dilemma. Gradually the sniffles turned to fierce, enraged wails, and the ghost rose again into the air.
“You’re a bully!” it yelled “A big bully!”
Luigi clapped his hands over his ears, the creature's cries ripping apart the room. The ground below it began to warp then to slosh; an inky puddle devouring the floor and tainting the air a purple radiated glow. Luigi's eyes widened and he reeled back, then ground to a stop and forced himself to charge. He needed to deal with this situation right now before it got any worse. The puddle leapt forward to meet him. For an instant he saw it coming, tried to dodge out of the way, but it was too late. The blackness hit him in a cold wave, and he fell into nothing.
It was one of the most bizarre sensations he had ever felt: one moment he was on solid ground, the next he wasn't, falling in slow motion through a twisting abyss. Then he hit the ground again and bounced.
Luigi staggered on the unsteady surface, staring around him in a frenzy. The world was distorted and tinged with purple, pillars of white towering over him on all sides. He was in a cage, an open topped cage with a springy floor. What had the ghost done? Where was he?
There was an angry scream and the baby rose into view outside of his prison, rattle in hand. He was enormous, now two or three times Luigi's size. Beyond him Luigi could make out an enlarged version of the nursery... Then he understood.
He was in the crib. He was in the crib, and he was in serious trouble.
• • •
Comet had warned Novi there were weird things off world; that once you went through 'the doors' everything was up for grabs and anything could happen. Despite this, she was having a hard time processing the fact that she was following a ghost. Because Novi was pretty darn sure that's what the woman was by now: an honest to goodness, back from the other side ghost.
The woman bobbed ahead in a determined float, basket of linen pressed into her hip. Her keen eyes swept the hall as she walked, watching the shadows in a business-like, if a bit nervous way. Novi followed behind at a cautionary distance, her own wad of blankets in one arm and the backpack slung over the other, watching the woman with interest.
It wasn't the first time the term 'ghost' had crossed her mind this evening. She had been thinking of the other creatures as ghosts for quite a while. That was mostly out of convenience, though. They floated, glowed, and generally behaved as you would expect a bed sheet variety ghost to behave, but when it came down to it, she had been sure--and was still sure--that they were just a local creature of some sort, and not something that had... Died.
The woman wasn't human either, but something about the fullness of her form suggested she had once been solid. Her figure was small and slight--quite a bit smaller than Novi, which was pretty impressive--and built for walking not floating. She even had a pair of wispy feet, which was a first occurrence as far as the creatures in this place went. There was some sort of cap on her head instead of hair, a soft looking, puffy thing speckled over with spots of dark space. A string of the same stuff strayed out behind in a row of spotted beads, rather like a pony tail.
All in all, she really did look like a humanoid mushroom, and it made an unsettling amount of sense. Comet had told Novi the people of this country were mostly mushrooms.
Novi's hanging behind seemed to make the woman uncomfortable at first. There were a few awkward minutes were she kept on slowing down so Novi could catch up. Whenever this happened they would both end up frozen, the pause becoming awkward as Novi refused to come any closer. After a while, the ghost gave up on that sort of thing, but she continued to glance over her shoulder every once and again to make sure Novi was still there.
Fortunately for both of them the jaunt through the halls wasn't a long one. After a short distance they found themselves standing in front of another door. There was a strange sound coming from inside as they approached it: a rumbling, splattering sound, like a broken pump. Uneasiness jumped up in Novi’s stomach, and she looked to the ghost. The ghost looked more concerned than she did. Next moment the woman had dropped the basket and darted through the wall without even sparing her a glance.
Novi hesitated then tried the door handle. It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open a crack. What she found inside was rather a strange sight.
The ghost woman was just inside the door, stiff and staring over the room. The room stared right back, or more specifically, its occupants did. Ghosts were everywhere. There were dozens of them: peeking from between the shelves and under the stools, hiding between the clothes lines stretched across the room. The majority of them, though, were clustered around the stone vat imbedded in the ground. The one that was currently overflowing.
Every one of the pack hung still in the air, staring at the woman in shock. The thunder of the spigot filled the room, whomping off the stones in wet, spray filled tremors. Water ran in torrents over the floor, erupting mountains of suds sliding with it.
Ever so slowly, the ringleader ghost tipped the last of a box of soap flakes into the vat.
"Arrrahhhh!" The woman shouted, making a dart for the clothes lines. "Get out! Shoo!"
Instantly the room erupted into chaos. Ghosts flew every which way, shrieking in terror. Laundry shook from the lines onto the floor, water splattered, and wreaths upon wreaths of bubbles swirled in the air, catching the lights of the ghosts in a multicolored, wildly spinning storm. Then it was over and all the ghosts were gone, leaving behind a bubbly mess and Novi's very cross, fervently glowing guide.
"Honestly..." the woman grumbled.
She turned off the overflowing vat and began picking up laundry off the floor then looked up to see Novi in the doorway.
"Oh, I'm sorry dear. You can come in now."
Novi hung back for a moment longer then stepped softly forward. The ghost passed her a wrinkly, kind old smile and continued her work.
The room was a small one, dimly lit by a few candles mounted on the walls. There were more candles scattered around, waxy towers of them melted to five or six stools across the floor, but the stools were tipped at the moment and the candles drowned in standing water. The dim shape of wall mounted shelves lurked in and out of the remaining candle light as well as the outline of one, maybe two, dressers. Clothes lines claimed the far end of the room, a few lucky articles of linen still clinging to them. Beyond this, up against the wall and obscured by clouds of bubbles, was a stair leading away into the ceiling. In the other far corner, opposite the stairs, lay a pair of large, boxy shapes Novi couldn't identify.
Novi dropped her arm-load of gear in a dry corner and joined the ghost collecting linen off the floor.
"Thank you," Said the woman in a breathless kind of way. "You're very sweet."
She rolled back onto her little heels and inspecting a soiled tablecloth sadly.
"Would you be a dear and open the door at the top of the stairs?"
"Of course," Said Novi.
Novi added the few things she had collected into the woman's pile and wove her way to the narrow, crooked stairwell. The bubbles were thick up there, drawn by a faint draft coming from the top. Novi kept her head low and her mouth shut tight until she reached a pair of ill-fitting wooden doors. They were the 'flat to the ground' type, like the ones that lead to old-fashioned cellars. She flipped the little latch that held them closed, and with some difficulty, pushed them up and open.
A storm of bubbles rushed past into the night, rising up into the shredding veil of clouds. It didn’t seem to be raining anymore, but the air was still damp and very chilly. She got a glance of a murky rooftop courtyard strung over with empty clothes lines then retreated back down the stairs with a shiver.
The woman had made good progress since Novi had been gone. All the laundry had been gathered up, and the vat--which had been drained to a reasonable level of fullness--was bobbing full of colorful cloth. All the stools had been propped up as well, and those with candles relit, filling the room with warm, sleepy light. Most of the bubbles were gone now too, or at least going, floating past Novi up the stairs.
The ghost was now standing by one of the odd boxy shapes, her original basket of table cloths back at her hip. Now there was more light it was obvious what the shape was: a washing machine. There the thing stood, a drier placed by its side, both glinting proudly and looking obnoxiously out of place. Novi watched in utter confusion as the woman loaded the last place mat into it and started the wash sequences, filling the room with the low hum of the machine. She dusted her hands off on her apron, set down the basket, and watched the clouds of drifting bubbles in a satisfied way before spotting Novi.
"My goodness, do you always skulk around like that?" She asked, after doing a double take.
"Sorry," Said Novi quietly, and stepped down into the room again.
"It's alright dear. I suppose it's pardonable given the circumstances, but there's really no need to be so unsettled."
"I'm not unsettled."
"Don't fib, dear, it's not becoming. Though I suppose you could mean you’re only a little unsettled..."
The was a short silence. The woman looked her up and down then sighed.
"You're all over mud..." She said gently. "And in those clothes I almost mistook you for a boy. I'm sure I would have if it weren't for that lovely hair..."
Novi glanced down at the floor and rubbed at the smear on her forehead.
"I- was going to go down to the ocean tomorrow, but it was too late tonight."
"What are you even doing here?"
"Trying to getting out of the rain. I’m sorry, it didn't look like anybody lived here from the outside..."
The woman gave her another soft smile.
"It’s no trouble at all dear. I'm not surprised, considering the shamble the place has gone to; I can't do everything on my own after all. But you're quite welcome here, very welcome. Only you have to be careful in the halls these days..."
Novi gave a solemn, knowing nod.
"But how did you get here?" Asked the woman, a concerned twist coming across her expression.
Novi hesitated at this. The most accurate answer would be that she had flown, but she couldn't say that. She didn't want to outright lie, though, either.
"I rode," she said finally, hoping that was an acceptable answer.
"On your own?" asked the woman, voice hitching up a couple of octaves.
Novi was quiet again.
Apparently the woman took the lack of answer as a yes, and her frosty eyes had grown large with disbelief.
"A lovely girl like you in the woods at night; didn't your mother ever tell you never to do such a thing? Don't you have a father, a brother, or suitor? Anyone who could have come with you?"
"I wasn't on my own."
"Then where is your guardian? Where is he now?"
The woman’s tone suggested she thought Novi was fibbing again, a notion Novi didn’t really appreciate.
"He's outside," She answered firmly.
The woman looked shocked for a moment and more than a little incredulous. Then a slow look of understanding stole over her face.
"Yoshi's don't count, dear," She said very gently.
Novi blinked in confusion, not sure what to say to that.
"You poor girl, it explains everything," Said the woman in a soft, sad tone. "Riding alone at night indeed, and in this weather. You're wet through and went without dinner no doubt, and I don't have a thing to give you..."
The woman bustled off, fretting the whole way. At first Novi tried to stop her, correct whatever ideas she had gotten into her head, but the woman hardly noticed, and eventually Novi fell into awkward silence.
After a short time the ghost came back again, holding a bucket of clean, warm water, a washcloth, and a fresh nightgown from somewhere in the room.
"Get washed up and changed while I make a place for you," She said, pushing the things at Novi. "I don't have a bed, but you'll be safest here. I'll be sure to make you comfortable."
Novi took the bucket and washcloth without hesitation, but her hand hovered uncertainly over the dress.
"It's quite clean and very soft," said the woman, "You can't sleep in your damp things, you'll wake up ill. Besides, they need a wash before morning."
"What if I run into more..." Novi trailed off, unsure if 'ghosts' was a good term to use given the current company.
"The Bogies?" Offered the woman.
"Those..." Said Novi.
"You needn't worry about them. They'll leave you be so long as I'm here."
Eventually, Novi took the dress as well and ducked away into a corner to change.
The woman kept herself busy making a bed of sheets and blankets until she returned.
"Now that's more like it," Said the woman with a smile.
Novi did look quite a bit better with the mud off her face and in the fresh, lacy nightgown. She felt better too, and much more comfortable. Though she did slip to the baskets of folded linen once the woman had taken her old clothes, looking for something to wear under the dress. There was always the chance she would need to do more running...
It didn't take her long to find something suitable: a pair of puffy cotton pants, even if they were a little big, but that wasn't the only thing of interest she found. Resting on top of one of the baskets was another bit of clothing, something that clearly didn't belong.
It was just a hat, but the style was out of place. The color was bright and unfaded, and the stitching had most definitely not been done by hand. There was a bright ‘M’ embroidered across its front.
"What’s this?" Asked Novi.
The woman paused in sweeping puddles of water down the drain and looked up at her.
"A hat. I found it on the floor in the halls.”
"Tonight?"
The woman nodded and continued her sweeping. "It was the strangest thing. I’m sure it's not the professor’s, so I can't say where it came from.” The woman stopped again and glanced up with something akin to concern.
“It wouldn't be yours would it?"
"No," Said Novi quietly.
"Oh good," The woman said, sounding relieved. “I could hardly imagine you in such a thing…”
Novi reached down, picked up the hat, and turned it over a few times, inspecting its every detail. Something about it made her intensely uneasy, though she couldn't put her finger on why.
“It’s nothing to fret about," said the woman. She set down the broom and came to stand by her side. "Maybe the professor brought it here to entertain the twins, naughty boys, but it's nothing to worry about. Why don't you come over here and rest a bit? There's a dear."
Reluctantly, Novi did as she was told, still holding the hat in her hands. The woman watched her with a slight bit of concern but thankfully didn’t say anything more. Novi nestled into the pile of blankets, placed her back against the wall, and stared at the hat, trying to puzzle out why it was so important in her mind. The harder she looked at it, though, the further the concept slipped away.
Slowly but surely the exhaustion caught up with her again, and she began to drift. It wasn't Novi's intention to fall asleep, but that's what she did.
Notes:
Finally, finally done with chapter eight. It took me longer than I would have liked, but what else is new?
I think half my problem is the fact that these chapters just keep getting bigger. Every time I finish a new one I vow to shorten the next, yet somehow it never seems to happen. I’ve done some brainstorming on the point, and the only consistent way I see to shorten things is to make each character perspective it’s own chapter. I don’t care for what that does to the flow of the story, though; I pair up the events in a chapter to create contrasts and parallels, something that gets lost if everything is broken up. On the other hand, shorter segments would make the story less intimidating to read and hopefully speed up update times quite a bit. I’m not sure what to do about the situation. What do you guys think?
No comments:
Post a Comment