![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
05. Force Ghosts?
Oct. 18th, 2017 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chirrutsluckWHO: Baze Malbus and OTA
WHERE: All around, particularly the inn, woods, and a spare house at 6I
WHEN: October 18 and onwards
OPEN TO: Any and all
WARNINGS: Varying degrees of poltergeisting
At first, Baze doesn't really notice anything different. Chirrut can't see him anyway, and in the morning light he's tangible enough to be heard and felt before he heads out for the morning to go hunting and collecting wood for arrows. Walking the shadowed woods and not being noticed by the birds and small animals is strange, but he doesn't think too much about it except to take advantage of it.
But anyone who spots him there might not see him until he steps into a patch of sunlight, or he brushes against a branch or leaves. And when he brings the results of his snares and arrows into the inn, he's nearly impossible to see in the dim light. It's only out in the sun that he's obviously there, and even then, he looks a little... see through, and his voice, normally easy to make out if not given to long statements, is muted and distant, hard to make out. The later in the day it is, the worse it gets.
Unlike the raincloud, this doesn't go away after sunset, and Baze spends the next couple weeks in frustrated (and worried) variation of tangibility and visibility, waxing and waning with the sunlight. If he still believed in such things, he'd consider himself some sort of Force ghost, but even if he did believe in such things, powers and magic and the Force don't exist here, everyone says so. He keeps trying to do the things he normally would... with varying levels of success to go along with his varying levels of fazing out, and a constant, low-level, and unspoken buzz of anxiety that maybe he's finally getting around to dying again.
WHERE: All around, particularly the inn, woods, and a spare house at 6I
WHEN: October 18 and onwards
OPEN TO: Any and all
WARNINGS: Varying degrees of poltergeisting
At first, Baze doesn't really notice anything different. Chirrut can't see him anyway, and in the morning light he's tangible enough to be heard and felt before he heads out for the morning to go hunting and collecting wood for arrows. Walking the shadowed woods and not being noticed by the birds and small animals is strange, but he doesn't think too much about it except to take advantage of it.
But anyone who spots him there might not see him until he steps into a patch of sunlight, or he brushes against a branch or leaves. And when he brings the results of his snares and arrows into the inn, he's nearly impossible to see in the dim light. It's only out in the sun that he's obviously there, and even then, he looks a little... see through, and his voice, normally easy to make out if not given to long statements, is muted and distant, hard to make out. The later in the day it is, the worse it gets.
Unlike the raincloud, this doesn't go away after sunset, and Baze spends the next couple weeks in frustrated (and worried) variation of tangibility and visibility, waxing and waning with the sunlight. If he still believed in such things, he'd consider himself some sort of Force ghost, but even if he did believe in such things, powers and magic and the Force don't exist here, everyone says so. He keeps trying to do the things he normally would... with varying levels of success to go along with his varying levels of fazing out, and a constant, low-level, and unspoken buzz of anxiety that maybe he's finally getting around to dying again.
