Ghostly Matters || ghost!dream

i | a mysterious man

Everything was warm and dark, why? He couldn't remember why..

Suddenly his senses came to him, giving him a rather annoying and painful head ache. He shivered, the warmth he felt was gone, replaced with a chilly breeze. He could feel his fingers, arms, toes, legs, everything, but it didn't feel right.

Slowly opening his eyes, he was met with a ray of light, burning his eyes and worsening his now migraine.

He covered his eyes with his hand, slowly rising from the patch of moss he layed on.

Apon first look, you would have thought it was straight out of a movie. It was a large, long valley, filled with fog. Rocks littered the moss filled planes. Spruce and oak trees littered up the mountain range.

He did not recognize this place, it looked nothing like anywhere he had been before.
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"Bye, bye Phil!" The ghost of Wilbur Soot's voice echoed as he waved goodbye to his father, Philza.

"Be safe boys!" The older blonde shouted at the too from the door of Technoblade's house.

"Do I look like someone who is not safe?!" Tommy, Ghostbur's younger brother began walking backwards, shouting at their father.

"Yes." Phil chuckled walking back into the warmth of Techno's cabin.

Tommy and Wilbur made their way into forrest ahead of them. Ghostbur quietly hummed the tune of the L'manburg anthem, following closely behind Tommy.

"Alright Wil," Tommy turned to face him, he narrated his words with his hands, "I'm gonna go over there, just stay here, okay?"

"Okay!" The brunette hummed happily.

Tommy trudged off, going deeper in the forest. Ghostbur sat on a large boulder, humming contents.

Crack!

Ghostbur spun around in alarm, he treaded towards the mysterious noise with caution.

He looked down to see a broken stick that layed shattered on the white snow. He gaze followed up to a slightly smaller boy.

He was pale, sickly pale, his emerald green eyes shimmered, a golden ring circled on the outside of his iris. He had light freckles, the pigment not much darker than his skin tone. His hair, his hair was almost white, if it weren't for the sun ray hitting him perfectly, Ghostbur would have been sure it was pure white and not a golden blonde. He wore a large ripped T-shirt. The green shirt was ripped and covered in dirt and snow, his black jeans the same. He was barefoot aswell.

There was without a doubt that he was dead. No living human could survive in the arctic wearing that. Wilbur being a but unsure in himself decided to ask anyway.

"Are you dead?"

"Am I?"
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