12-05-2008, 10:57 PM
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Ears dropped at the foreign words, flush with his skull, the black one hidden within the dark hair that rest there. There had always been something odd about when his father spoke in a different language, something almost frightening about it, and it had always left you boy with an unsettled feeling. It felt like that night all over again, the night that the ghost or spirit or whatever that thing was had come. It was only then, at the thought of that night and the sudden mention of ghosts from his father, that Jasper had a chilling realization. Rusalki. He hadn't seen him since he had woken from his sickness and now here was his father, talking about ghosts in floorboards in front of a fire that he had apparently started. "What ghosts?" He was almost afraid to ask. Could ghosts really be gotten rid of by setting fire to houses? Where was his friend? Fangs inched forward, jaws rolling to bring the very edge of his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it in a nervous fashion. "I don't think there were any ghosts in there." He tried to tell him, wanted him to understand that he had a ghost friend, but those weren't things that people just talked about and, even if he could find the words to explain, it wouldn't just magically stop the fire. |