undergrounds | How to Train Your Poltergeist [Closed to Aradia]

Similarly, most normal people would tense up if someone entered their apartment in the dead of night with no warning. Thankfully, Aradia neither has a body to tense nor actually owns the apartment - if the mystery intruder was a stranger, they'd be trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Which is almost a pity. At least then she'd get some enjoyment out of spooking them. Will's far too unflappable for that to actually work.

It doesn't take much effort to click the laptop shut when she leaves it - gently, she's trying - and it feels like a courtesy to do so. Like closing a door, or washing your plate after dinner. Or, y'know. Not like throwing your bag at somebody's fetter. Because that's distinctly rude, even if she doesn't seem to care when she re-materializes on the couch.

"You know, you're more likely to damage the laptop then I am if you throw things at it."

Maybe she can hope to spook him some night, when he's more asleep than awake and easily tricked by jump scares. Tonight is only halfway to that point. Aradia's small act of kindness is totally missed, but the comment earns the usual rolled eyes to it.

"It's old. Who cares." She doesn't even get a second glance before the usual routine of hide the sword, put away the uniform, pass out for two hours on the couch until his morning job demands attention. Instead, a plain box is removed from the bag as well and set on the coffee table amidst a sea of unused space.

"Pop quiz. Manifest yourself and open it and you pass."

Why is he always an asshole at night, it's terrible.

The reactions are about what she expected, really. If he stopped being an ass then she'd have to worry about whether imposters were involved, and that would get messy fast. Not that she isn't tempted to snark back in defense of the poor laptop's virtue (it's been kind to her), but the mystery surprise kills it before she starts.

A moment later she abandons her post on the couch to investigate, and sort of shamelessly debate whether she wants to cheat or not. "Kind of a roundabout way to get me to practice more. Also quizzes usually have multiple choice answers."

But doing it fairly would... probably be more polite, and she's curious to see if she actually can exert that much pressure yet. Hm.

Will doesn't comment. He just gives her the flattest stare she's ever received off of him. The kind of dead stare you wear after spending a whole night murdering people with weapons that actively cannibalize your soul powered only by no sleep, shit pay, and a bottomless reservoir of annoyance.

It's a stare held long enough for her to get the point before he turns and walks off to stuff his weapon in the closet. "There's multiple ways to open a box, but try to make a cursory attempt."

Well, uh.

So far this has been an incredibly informative exercise.

Namely that Mr. Dude-That-Let's-Us-Live-In-His-House does not appreciate cheating.

Of course there could be other reasons, such as a long night or a troubling job - though she's not entirely sure what he does, and doesn't know if she wants to know - but the simplest conclusion is usually the most accurate.

Aradia's not the type to scare easily, and frankly she's not afraid - staring death in the face and saying 'no' has a way of beating fear out of you - but it was honestly a reaction she hadn't expected. Going from gentle teasing to outright hostility in the span of a minute is a fast way to remind someone that you don't really know them.

The lights may have had a crisis moment right along with Aradia's non-existent heart, but thankfully there were no further casualties. That might've ended up being too much.

"Point taken." Now that the panic's ebbing away, it's left a sense of numb determination. Because she also caught that implication that she can't do it, thank you, and that's practically more annoying then being glared to death. Which is probably his intended point, but that doesn't mean it isn't working.

... she just needs a minute. Or two. Willpower isn't a strong point right now.

It probably doesn't help that as the lights flicker, the stare never changed. Literally. His eyes remain the same level of inhuman gold no matter the brightness or darkness of the room at large. It is obscenely creepy but at least it's easily ignored when she's left to her devices.

A long enough amount of time to change out of his street clothes and get halfway through bandaging the scorch wounds on his hands to find her. Still sitting there? She gets loomed over from behind, but there's none of that brittle presence behind it this time. If she squints, it might even pass for concern.

"Need a knife?" Because that is obviously the only issue she would be having here, of course.

Squinting at him would require looking away from the box.

In the entire time he took to fix himself up, Aradia's barely moved an inch. She knows perfectly well how to manifest and open the box, but actually putting willpower into action is a bit beyond her reach after that fun excursion down murderglare lane. Each attempt lasts barely a heartbeat before she slips and flickers back into intangibility.

This, predictably, doesn't improve when a looming shadow drops over the scene. To her credit, she managed to actually touch the box before she failed this time, and there's no evidence of tension in either state. Just the forced, frustrated apathy that comes with being Ghost Girl. Everything is fine. Progress will happen.... eventually.

"I'm okay." Wait, no. That's not what he asked. It's a reflexive response and does little to change how flat her voice is. "I can do it. Just working out how."

Now we observe the scene at hand. One frozen staring at a box, giving the wonder answer to a misheard question. One frozen bandaging injuries, thinking the wrong answer meant he said a different question than he meant to.

They are both horrendously stupid.

Well. He immediately solves this problem by steamrolling right past it like it never happened. Sleep, who needs sleep, the kitchenette has coffee and coffee makes the world make sense, this is acceptable logic.

"If you can't get in after two more minutes, feel free to possess it." Even though that defeats the purpose, but whatever. Ghost Girl will surely be okay with a Grade 65 on the pop quiz.

They're both idiots, too stubborn to clarify what they mean, and someday it'll be the death of them. Or something like that, at any rate.

She doesn't reply to the change in terms as he walks off to get coffee, still marshaling her thoughts into something useable. Everything about being a ghost requires focus and willpower, and being spooked doesn't help her tenuous attempts in the slightest. The box barely rocks when she finally manifests long enough to start - but any wisps of pressure while prying at tape makes her falter, hands slipping uselessly off the side. It's stupid and ridiculous and this should be easy but she keeps failing at the first hurdle, and

Okay, that was an accident.

Frustration is perhaps too useful a motivator at times, as Aradia misjudges her next try and accidentally breaks a hole through the cardboard. Luckily she panicked and faded before she did much more then damage the box, but. Well. Whoops.

That makes Will freeze in place, both the noise of ripping cardboard and that immediate screeching white noise flaring for a brief mute second across his eyelids. Both go still as death the same time he does. There's a pause to wait for any changes; that was the wave that usually passes before lightbulbs start exploding. Yet, there's nothing. So just a burst of emotion? Something strong enough to fuel her ripping open that package.

The only other time he's felt anything off her nearly that strongly immediately brings to mind the next thing on her gift list, the smile that spread across her face a tinge too wide at the the joy that overtook her. It'd be cheating, but the point of this game isn't for her to pass. It's simply to not fail.

"Your laptop's in there."

It's said out so deadpan Aradia might actually miss the words, but she's that close to succeeding, only that frozen soundless wasteland of fear holding her back. Just a little bit more motivation should do the trick.

It breaks her away from that awful, paralyzed staring at the box, because what. He didn't. She hadn't even asked, and while she's still not entirely sure what he does every day, the apartment suggests it doesn't result in much coming in.

But he did, because now that she's aware of it, the faint buzz of static surrounding anything electrical is setting her teeth on edge.

"You." How is he real. She doesn't bother finishing her outburst of confusion because curiosity wins out fast, turning her efforts back to prying away the cardboard, albeit slower without that sharp force of frustration driving it. But progress is progress, however slow - and it's not long before bits of box start neatly piling up nearby. Goddamnit Will.

"Me?" She can't see him, but there's that idle amusement warped into the word. Outside of her view, he wears a smile that's all fangs and genuine appeasement. Ghost Girl's weird, always staying at arm's length - and he's not complaining. But she's not a bad person.

She shouldn't be forced to spend all of her time with terrible people.

The tearing sounds resume, a victory is written down, he's still good at teaching students even if a bit too brutally for some people. Which means now she can manifest enough to interact with the world on par with a normal human, albeit in intermittent bursts.

Brewing coffee quietly drowns out Aradia's dominance over cardboard, in time to a mental list of using the rewards system for future pop quizzes.

She'd normally comment on how surreal the difference is, between this and the party that shall not be mentioned, but let's be honest here. Ripping up cardboard is fun enough when you're not stuck barely able to interact with the world.

It's not long before she's made a big enough hole to tug the laptop out, though that in and of itself requires a fresh manifestation just to be completely certain that she can't drop it. Because regardless of how small it is, or how he got it, or anything it's still something he went out of his way to do. Self interest probably played a part, admittedly - this way she doesn't risk blowing up his ancient netbook by accident - but hey, small steps towards friendship go a long way.

Now if she could stop staring in complete awe and start it up, that'd be great. Any moment now.

Whether it's good she mentions the personality switch or not, he still sits at the breakfast bar with his back to her. The type of lifeless blank stare you aim at your coffee machine in the mornings when you pray for salvation to take you.

It's more of a quieter static this time. A white fuzz, wind blowing past your ears, a joy so far muffled by surprise but it's still a twitching cluster of positive feelings.

Good.

"It's refurbished, so if there's anything wrong let me know. The return window is short," said so uncaring and unworried it functions as a final guarantee. She's not dreaming, she's not hallucinating, she's not being tricked. It's hers. Don't break it Ghost Girl.

That poor coffee machine wouldn't know what hit it. It's short life couldn't have prepared it for this moment.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Even when her stunned silence breaks, there's still a shaky edge to her voice. Because it's a gift and he's being nice and what. It's a link to a life she thought she'd never have again. Which opens up other doors by itself - does she contact her old friends, or would it be kinder to let her own shade lie?

Probably the latter, whoops. "Baring any explosive learning accidents, I mean. Those can still happen even if I'm trying not to. And if they happen I'll do my best to fix it myself somehow because that's just rude otherwise."

It's his coffee machine. That means it's used to being glared at like it's the reason for all of the world's problems whenever it takes too long. Yet, it has never made a subpar batch, so the machine retains its use.

Will still has his back to her, but she can probably see the exact moment it shifts from an empty shell of a being to almost retreating in... something. Not fear. But it's weird feeling those waves from her, they're never that strong, but this is just. Shockgratitude a shade of worry, bubbled up and whisked away under the sheer tide of joyjoyjoyjoy- He's never gotten a reaction like that in. Ages. Years, a decade or more.

His face feels weird, so he covers his mouth with one hand. Maybe it'll go away.

I'm glad you like it. But that's dumb, the train of thought stutters to a stop, only a heartbeat to execute it and switch to a new one, "Accidents are fine. And if it breaks, I'll fix it."

Aradia does notice, in the split second that she looks up from the laptop to see how Will reacts, sees the hunch. Takes a moment to wonder if it's just the coffee, or if something went wrong at work. But he sounds amused, it's almost a peace offering, and for once she doesn't feel just... blank.

"Accidents are still accidents. It'd be best if I avoid breaking it to start with." She manifests again, wanting the actual tangible feel of opening the laptop for the first time. Possessing it would be faster, but there's always later for that.

The expression fizzles out as quickly as it appears, because more important things - that moment when the coffee's not finished but there's enough for one cup. Get over here. But at least the feeling of Not Nothing stays, to the point where her comment even gets a scoff of an exhale. In anyone else, it might even be a laugh. If you squint.

"But you're good at breaking stuff." Like lightbulbs. And coffee tables. And his intolerance of techno. Forget sugar, tonight is a straight black formaldehyde type of night. "When it's running I'll give you the wifi password."

"Hey. I'm not that bad."

Okay, so she's not as mad as she wants to sound, evident by the mock-frown giving way to another smile halfway through her outburst, further punctuated by the distinct lack of distressed electronics. If anything she's being overly careful in her treatment of the new laptop - her eyes stay glued to the screen as it slowly boots up, hesitant to let anything slip past her shaky control.

"Breaking things is just fun and relaxing." Not to mention more then a little addictive, shh. "And this is an excuse to practice... not doing that."

Everyone has their vices. Hers just happen to involve destruction of public property. Fight her.

"You're that bad."

Except it's okay, because they're both that bad, because when he turns back around to speak with her there's a mirror of the shit-eating grin Aradia herself wears. Or a more cracked cousin, at least. There's a pause at her practice comment, because surely it can't be that fun. It's expensive and it's irritating to replace everything and people are notorious complains about collateral damage-

And Will takes a moment to fondly recall throwing metal paperweights at his useless underlings back in America.

"...Somewhat relaxing."

It's the closest Aradia will ever get to him admitting they share a vice, and its relevance is thrown aside in favor of coffee and silence. No fighting here, only allowing her the enjoyment of being a computer nerd.

Hah, she knew it. The silence is briefly respected, as having her enthusiasm returned in some way is encouraging and that's probably the most emotion she's ever coaxed out of her grumpy roommate in a single sitting. Wonders will never cease.

"Bad or not, it's still fun." Welp, silence broken. It was good while it lasted. "And relatively less destructive then bottling everything up. It's easier to replace lightbulbs then fix a bigger mistake."

Or that's how she justifies it, at any rate.

The laptop's fan whirs as it finally clicks over onto the desktop, and she has to take a moment to just appreciate the laptop existing. Sure, using Will's laptop was more contact with the world then she'd had in a while, but... there's something different about having one for herself. Actually having something she can call her own is oddly empowering. But first things first--

"Okay. Wifi password?" Priorities are important.

"But repression is cheaper."

This is not a denial of it being less destructive or less fun. It's still said with the same ease of discussing the weather, but it's obviously a joke. Ghost Girl's already read enough of his emotions tonight. One more won't be much harder.

Let another moment of silence be had here of Aradia practically burning the air out with joy, even with the priorities. So her question gets an inhale and the rest dropped in a perfect robotic monotone-

"Lowercase 'u', capital 'rs', lowercase 'bz', capital 'apd', lowercase v, eight, capital 'pt', seven, lowercase 'k', capital 'wk', lowercase 'a', capital 'n', lowercase 'vv', zero, seven, capital 'd', one, capital 'b', lowercase 'j'."

... Yeah, she got about a third of that down, and that's being generous. Having to split her attention between hands and hearing and not breaking the computer leaves little room for detailed comprehension.

Aradia eyes the mostly-empty password box as the cursor blinks cheerfully in the corner, before switching the blank stare to Will. There was probably an easier way to get her to dial down the noisy enthusiasm, but a shot of frustration is apparently effective at getting her to do it fast.

"That's a pain to transcribe on purpose, isn't it."

Edited (fuck grammar 2k15) 2015-06-11 12:24 (UTC)

It's only after her comment does he look up from the dead stare he's giving his coffee. Totally automated to remember what the password is, no thought given to repeating it at all, so when she talks again the reaction is completely genuine. She earns his head snapping back in her direction at the words just from instinct and the blank stare is a shade or five out of range from the usual apathy.

It's actually closer to 'deer in headlights' now.

"It's the default encryption that's given with the-" router, except that's not what she's complaining about. He didn't speak that fast did he, he wasn't paying attention, shit- "Ah. I'll just-"

'Type it in'. But that means taking the laptop from her and her emotions have already gone back to a dead neutral and she's wearing that Look, that one that everyone gives when he's messed up so bad it's noticeable, and the very thought of going over there and taking it from her immediately veers into the option of 'completely unacceptable'.

Shit.

Uh.

Aradia gets to watch as a spell she's never even noticed breaks like it was never there in the first place, shattered in time with how quickly he turns around to rifle through the counter drawers for a pen and any type of writing surface and just blatantly ignoring the lasers she's burning through his skull. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking. I'll write it."

Edited (whoops typo) 2015-06-14 09:14 (UTC)

Well, that was unexpected.

She'd prepared for more dry sarcasm at best, another accidental landmine at worst. Instead Aradia's left watching in confusion as Will scours the cupboards for something to write with, waiting for the sharp turn the conversation had taken to sink in properly. All she'd asked was if the password was a pain on purpose.

The sheer panic she'd caught a glimpse of felt comically out of place, a dissonant streak in the picture she'd started piecing together about her mysterious maybe-friend since he'd offered her somewhere to stay. It's not unwelcome, per say, just unexpected and almost unreal.

Maybe that joke about impostors earlier wasn't as far off as she'd thought.

"If its a hassle, I could... try typing it again." Her voice sounds strange to her own ears, still lifeless from the dose of frustration but more hopeful then before. In a quiet, hesitant sort of way. "I wasn't prepared for you to recite it that fast."

Except that sounds like she's blaming him, that's not what she meant, and a heartbeat later her frustration turns inward because that was such a stupid way to phrase it. Why do words happen so much.

Edited (why does grammar happen so much.) 2015-06-17 05:30 (UTC)

"It's fine."

An automated response to the question she didn't ask, to the frustration that leaves faint waves of sienna orange in the world. Except it's just an automated response, so it only gives the illusion of being directed towards her feelings.

Except while writing it clicks that the answer given wasn't to the proper question. There's another freeze, a lag of frozen program kicking back into function, and the rest is written without a hesitation at all. There's no way to answer it, anyway. What would you even say? 'I memorized it.' 'It's like how people know their own credit card numbers.' 'It's only fast because it's automated.'

Except normal people don't do any of those things, so the proper answer would be 'sorry for being a monster'.

This entire thought process is deleted in the moment it takes to set the post-it on her new keyboard. Whatever glimpse Aradia caught was a falsehood and there are no problems here at all and any assumption otherwise are just illusions. Yes.

"There's no data cap." Knock yourself out, Ghost Girl. "Just don't crash the download speeds."

And there it is again, that odd stop-catch-restart that flits by in the span of a second, and she would've missed it completely if she hadn't already been staring. She has no time to pry into it, because ignoring the post-it note would be rude after all that hassle and she does want to set up her laptop properly, but it buzzes at the back of her thoughts regardless.

Something set off the sudden shutdown, clearly, but she can't tell what beyond the apology (which is ridiculous), or her screwing the password up to begin with (which is... less ridiculous). And if it's the latter, she's pretty much doomed to be tripping deadpan landmines forever.

But that can be worried over later, because internet. Glorious internet. The world is her oyster. "I wasn't planning on crashing anything. That'd be really counterproductive to actually being able to use it."

Plus, she'd feel bad about eating up his internet bill, even if she'd never admit it. Those get expensive.

If it makes her feel better, the narrative can guarantee it's not her fault at all. Unfortunately, the narrative cannot convey this to the characters involved. Alas, poor ghost girl, continue being concerned until the sweet melodies of wifi drag you down into a tumblr-filled eternal sleep.

But who cares, she has internet. Take your bribe and go frolic through the internet meadows. The smile she gets is a bit cracked, too many fangs not enough feelings, but she gets a shrug when he retreats back out of This Is How Normal People Have Conversations Range.

"I don't know. You could always just nuke it and hack the neighbor's router to spite me."

-- Did he just give her an idea? Shit. Let us put it on good faith that Ghost Girl won't be terrible unless he did something to deserve it.

The problem with good faith is that implies she isn't considering this new avenue of emotional torture. "There's an idea."

Because really. It'd work all too well - all the fun of destroying something, with twice the benefits as everything would be available to use. And it's tempting enough to entertain for a lengthy moment as she fiddles with her old email password (shut up, it's been two years), but ultimately the idea gets discarded with little fanfare. "Luckily, that'd take too much effort."

It'd also require admitting she can't hack all that well, but details. She could always possess the neighbour's router and reset it or something. That's how electronics work, right?

Aradia earns another stare again, unblinking and unmoving as stone, but unlike the first one it's simply. Blank. A middle ground between the listless apathy and the muffled panic, and if any descriptor could be given to it, it's probably somewhere around 'oh God in the heavens, please don't do that, please'.

It's too much effort. Good. The stare breaks away and he goes back for his coffee. Too many emotions today, it's unacceptable, it's weird, can they stop, "Let it be known that your mercy is appreciated by this one."

The wording is weird, but if she squints, there is just enough deadpan there to catch it as an actual joke and not the automated snaps she's encountered. At least he's able to lampshade the odd speech? It's kind of a positive, and at least she can be content knowing she's discovered Legitimate Emotions in there. Even if he's dumb.

"If you need anything else, say it." Bluntly worded, but honest with no spite behind it whatsoever. It's not dismissing if you're dismissing yourself after all. Logic.

It takes her a moment to catch the wording as a joke rather then another accidental moodflip, but when she does she can't help the grin. This totally counts as a victory, okay, she actually understood that one. This is the horror Mystery Dude has unleashed upon his life. There's no saving him now.

"I'll let you know if there's anything," because even if she feels awful for asking, it's still practical to acknowledge it. He has hands, she doesn't. All that means is she'll need to find a way to pay him back for it, someday, in favours or something else.

Even if he's a confusing pile of contradictions, he still went out of his way to help, and there's evidence of something buried under the apathy now. She needs to even that debt before she inevitably ditches the mortal coil.

Which reminds her-- "Oh. And... thank you."

Surprisingly, she has manners. Her habitual disregard for tact is a choice, not complete ignorance (usually) - it's there when it matters, and that's good enough for her.

There's not even a nod to acknowledge her acceptance. She got the message. That's all that matters. The purpose is fulfilled, and it's just like removing a folding chair when an event is over. It's the same weird quality that allows someone to disappear in a crowded room - as long as the person thinks of themselves as invisible, other humans will believe the same.

So when she continues, she can spot the other pause. A hand rests on an open page, back turned to face her, and the exact flatline it causes remains unseen. It was a decision he made on his own, thanks were never expected. Gratitude alone is beyond rare in frequency. And she's so very sincere about it.

The sensation it causes is far too strange, so it's left unworded. Aradia earns a faint nod in her direction. There's no eye contact. "You're welcome."

The intent was delivered, and that's good enough.

How to Train Your Poltergeist [Closed to Aradia]

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/leaves this tag for last because fuck you you're not taking my phone too ;_;

I'M SORRYYYYY

ARE YOU, ARE YOU REALLY

YES, REALLY

fine then I /guess/ you get an invitation to the funeral B|

corpse partayyyy

throws confetti

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