𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂 || 18+ 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚡 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝙼𝙲

┉┈◈†𐌷𐍊𐍂†𐌸-Ⲋ𐍊𑀌◈┈┉

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was long believed that time held no meaning for the dead. But that couldn't be true. Because the last four years had been an eternity—a pure, suffocating hell. Just as his sweet Charlie intended for him. The clever girl.

He'd been angry at first. More than angry. His aura was oozing a malicious black in the beginning as he imagined all the ways he wanted to hurt her. It did a good job of keeping the other shapeless souls of the in-between away. He didn't quite enjoy company.

But as the years dragged on with no other purpose than to watch his little family as they lived without him, his anger dissolved. Every milestone he witnessed Rikan achieve, his precious boy... the sharper the cut to wherever his heart was located in the mass of nothingness he was made up of.

He had no hands to reach out to him. No arms to embrace him. Not that he could even if he did.

He didn't deserve to do those things. If he had been successful that day at the cliff, Rikan would never have reached those milestones. He would've never had a chance to live.

It pained him to admit, but his sweet Charlie was right in having her lovers kill him.

But that didn't make him want to hurt her any less.

The path to Irotak was just a quick jump away for him. With his gathered energy overtime, he was able to make tears—portals—from here to there to anywhere he wanted. It saved the energy drained by traveling. The in-between was like a parasite to all who moved through it.

If it wasn't for the immense horde of souls flooding through the heart of the city at any given moment, he would've never left Rikan's side. He knew all the traffic had something to do with that red crystal. Or rather, the being within it.

He only knew it was a sentient being because it had been following him recently. Watching. It wanted something, he could tell. If only it would pluck up the courage to ask rather than lingering around like an irksome presence.

Even now, as he rested in the cave he found Akiva in, building energy, that presence was near. He ignored it, as usual. But it was getting closer these days.

Deciding he was more than rested enough to visit Rikan again, he turned to a purple and blue flashing tear and leapt through it—arriving in the curved corner of his son's room.

Rikan was already awake, lying in bed. But, as always, he noticed when his father had come. The four year old child sat up, rubbing his sleepy pale blue eyes and grinning wide at him.

That had been a surprise Charlie was most unhappy with discovering. Her son could see him. And despite her begging him to ignore his father's ghostly presence, Rikan just couldn't stop himself from asking questions. He couldn't resist the conversation with his own blood-related father, when his siblings all had theirs.

"Hi, daddy," Rikan greeted in a small whisper, not wanting his mother to hear.

Though he didn't have a form, he could project one for his son to see. And so he did, showing himself as he was when he was alive. He had his imitation walk over and sit down weightless on the edge of the bed.

"Hello, Rikan," the projection replied fondly, a hint of sternness in his voice. "Why are you still up? You should be asleep at this hour."

The little boy looked away with a frown, tugging at a loose thread on his blanket. He gave a halfhearted shrug. "Henry said his friend said I'm a bad omen. I told him I'm not, but Henry said it was because of this." His small finger pointed to the darker splotch around his left eye. "Why would he believe Driga over me?"