IC: A Crusade for the Rabbit.

[Nefarious]

”In it for me? So you caught on to the fact that there is Always a price and profit to be made.”[/b] Of course there was a price, but the price that he wanted would never be what she could expect in a thousand lifetimes over.

Taking a step closer to her once more as his eyes faded over to a brighter blue… The Hollow had breached the surface of existence, clawing his way to the top but in Deus form… He never needed to revolt into the Gharlintraf’s form but with the ability, he thought it fun to scare the little kids when shifting into a Seventeen foot Monster. The price that he had in mind was horrible, it would devastate all but to the Ghostie, and to the Monster… it would be delightful.

”My Price… It’s simple Ghostie… Scare… Destroy Minds. Do everything that you do as a Ghostie… Do not change your ways. With you doing that, it will send their spirits to me.” For this little bit of phrase, his voice had become much deeper… more content in his point… the jokes that had been thrown to her were gone, the time to be serious was now, for this was no longer a time of Games… but a time for the Nightmare King to recruit another Ghostie.

”So what do you say to this offer; Ghostie? Will you take my hand and embrace a world where YOU get to cause the screams… or play it to the other side and do some justice with the new power. Its all up to you.” His hand extended outward as it slowly began to shift back from the ethereal plane to the material. All she had to do was take his hand to accept her new Destiny.

[Absinthe & Faust]

[align=justify:3a8008b551]Clever was this master of nightmares and no doubt one of the nastiest little beasties she had ever come into cahoots with. A memorable fact to recall. None had entered this area so bold and brash with promises and dreams of another existence. To Absinthe she wasn't plain scary anymore, she had received more screams when alive, a slasher by trade and sorts. Some she enjoyed slicing fast, and others slashing slow. All a ghostie could do was wail, rattle chains (make noise), knock over things, blow out candles, make a bit of wind that most creatures put down to bad gas, shatter windows and all the usual hoo-hah that didn't frighten things these days.

Even the monster under the bed no longer creeped out the little creeps, a shadow in the closet while the door creaked. It was all mumbo-jumbo, lost sentiment. That or people had forgotten what fear was all about. Then again it wasn't like she was dealing with puny humans. Absinthe gave a soft sigh, a sound whimpered in the muted timbre of solemn lament. Not for any particular reason but she knew from experience that bonds and oaths always led to some pointy reckoning that she was always at the receiving end of. Never enjoying it either. Faust himself wanted her as a lover, begged, promised and coerced with sweet whispered words. And for what? An early grave that wasn't even her grave, bound to a body that wasn't even hers.

His hand extended out towards her and at first she could not help but draw back. Only briefly before taking caution to the wind and finally grabbing his hand in hers. The touch of another’s energy brought tingles to her spine. It had been so long since she had touched another or been touched. It was quite welcoming though also a little queer being that when alive she had never been a touchy-feely type of child. Comfort or closeness made her flesh crawl. One had to take risks before destiny opened its doors to heaven or hell. Wherever this would take her, she would embrace it and learn to endure it, flesh or no flesh.

 "I will bring their spirits to you. I have no need of such things because fear is the essence of my presence, has always been. A biscuit would have done just fine, but this treat is far better than a trick. Far better than being wind with no soul to bring tempest and torment. Her digits tightened around the grip of hand, she wasn't afraid nor showed signs of being afraid, she knew naught of the word. Maybe this penance was her fault, but this wasn't about trust now was it. It was about survival... even for a wee lil ghost such as Absinthe D’Mort. Children always made the worst spirits to contend with and this offer was like giving candy and blade to the most temperamental lunatics of all adolescent killers... the loving hand of a ‘gifted’ nymph.[/align:3a8008b551]