http://ihatedenmark.livejournal.com/ (
ihatedenmark.livejournal.com) wrote in
fandomhighdorms2007-10-06 12:52 pm
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School grounds, Saturday afternoon
It had taken a complicated mess of Greyhound buses, shuttle buses, walking, and a cab with one overly enthusiastic man who had rambled on at length about how he could feel the Devil beside him (and was there really any need for name calling?), but Hamlet had finally made his way from Newark to Fandom, Virginia.
He stood on the edge of the school ground for the first time since he'd died, and just stared at the school from a distance. When had they rebuilt it after the alien attack? Was there anything left in there that he'd recognize?
He didn't move any closer than the edge of the school lawn, however. He wasn't sure if he should. He wasn't sure if he would be able to in his current form.
[OOC Note: Well, look who decided to drop by for Homecoming weekend. Hamlet is currently a ghost, so your character would likely need either spiritual powers or a previous attachment to him to be able to actually see and talk to him. Otherwise, all you'll get are a drop in the temperature and lingering bits of ectoplasm. And it's also Thanksgiving weekend here in Soviet Canuckistan, so I might have to drop offline now and then to deal with arriving relatives. My this is a long note, isn't it?]
He stood on the edge of the school ground for the first time since he'd died, and just stared at the school from a distance. When had they rebuilt it after the alien attack? Was there anything left in there that he'd recognize?
He didn't move any closer than the edge of the school lawn, however. He wasn't sure if he should. He wasn't sure if he would be able to in his current form.
[OOC Note: Well, look who decided to drop by for Homecoming weekend. Hamlet is currently a ghost, so your character would likely need either spiritual powers or a previous attachment to him to be able to actually see and talk to him. Otherwise, all you'll get are a drop in the temperature and lingering bits of ectoplasm. And it's also Thanksgiving weekend here in Soviet Canuckistan, so I might have to drop offline now and then to deal with arriving relatives. My this is a long note, isn't it?]

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She smiled back. "He's ... he was incredible. I can't picture him as Annie, though. That's so weird, that he used to go here. But ... I guess weird's kinda normal for Fandom, yeah?"
There was a long pause while she tried to figure out how to ask what she wanted to ask. "Are you ... stuck? Here, I mean."
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There was a moment of indecision as he wrestled with his own thoughts. As cold as he knew he was, he reached out to hug her. He hoped that he wouldn't be too cold against her skin.
"I think so," he said. "With my Father, it was because he wanted his murder avenged and wouldn't rest until that happened. For me ... I don't know why."
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"Do you ... if I ... would you want me to ... I mean, do you want to be ... not stuck? I could ask Yunie if she ... sometimes she can Send ... people?"
He ... would be gone again but if that was where he was supposed to be then that was what should happen. Right?
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"I'm ... I'm not sure," he said. His brow creased, and his voice full of a sense of being lost that he'd had for months. "On the one hand, it would be nice to be ... unstuck. On the other, if there's something I'm supposed to do before I move on, I need to do it."
And what he didn't say aloud was that he was terrified of finding out what the afterlife was truly about.
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"It's ... yeah. It's ... you don't have to decide, like, I mean, now, 'cause it's just if you ever ... if you find out you are stuck then you ... then you ask me and I call Yunie and it's really easy to do and ... yeah." She nodded, oddly relieved he wasn't leaving just yet. "So you ... don't know what you ... need to do? How do I help?"
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"Do you have any suggestions as to where I should head to next? I'm sick of haunting Elsinore, and there's not much to do in an airport after you've been there for a few weeks."
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If he could have, he would have turned all blue from sadness. As it was, he couldn't even cry. Ghosts have no real bodily fluids.
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She fidgeted. "Should I ... Hermione knows lots of stuff, and there's a library here. I can ... research, maybe? There has to be a way. To find out something that'll help. Right?"
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"I would love to vandalize something with you," he said earnestly. "And perhaps set off a volcano if there happens to be one about."
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"That would make a perfect weekend."