#❁ | darling. dearest. dead. [ dst verse. ]

[sisturn]

THERE IS NO REST FOR THE DEAD, especially not after such a devastating encounter. wendy is asleep in one of the remaining tents, and abigail would rather be pulverized again than shirk her duties of night watch; she had alerted everyone to the snarls of deerclops, after all, even if it had been too late regardless. abigail herself had been disintegrated into ectoplasm in the first few minutes, despite her best efforts.

if only she could have done more against that monster.

at present, the ghost lingers outside the tents as customary, emanating an eerie glow to stave off the claws of darkness where the fire can't reach. abigail aimlessly lurks, internally grimacing as her ectoplasm slowly mends itself back together. it's going to be a long healing process. she scratches the back of her head, then stretches her arms above it, maw opening in a horrifying yawn for a few moments.

abigail turns her attention to maxwell the instant she smells blood. pupilless eyes stare in minor concern. she phases into the ground, appearing over near storage. she pulls up some more scraps of papyrus and silk, then turns invisible and slinks over to maxwell.

normally, she would have dropped them on his head or tossed them at him unceremoniously. this night, however, she's too exhausted to maintain her miniature grudge. abigail appears next to maxwell; he's one of two people that can undertake her wailing, so at least she's able to talk properly to him.

"you kind of need all your flesh on your hands," she remarks, offering out the bundle of paper and silk. "fix that."

[Starter for @sisturn ;; Aftermath Conversations]

For a short time it had finally just been Maxwell and the gentle crackle of the fire in front of him, a cheery spark of light between the dark peaks of the tents encircling the camp.

Those that are still standing, at the very least.

His own tent had been crushed beneath the deerclop's onslaught that very morning, and he's hardly going to be joining anyone else in the few tents still left standing. Too... cramped, is what he's choosing to tell himself on that front.

It's not as though he's needed to sleep for a very long time, anyways. Exhaustion may pull at his bones, but his head is as clear as the day he was pulled onto this plane of existence.

So. By the fire he shall be.

Someone ought to keep it running hot anyways, he supposes— the winter chill still stubbornly clings to the landscape, painting the fields in harsh swathes of white and gray. The cold has a rather insidious reach when not properly attended to at all hour of the day, and he's hardly going to allow himself to be blamable when the rest of the camp finally drags themselves out of their cozy little rat nests.

Not to mention he'd no longer have anywhere warm to sit, which is proving to be a much more relevant issue in the moment.

Maxwell's knife slips from the chunk of wood in his hand for the fifth time that night, nearly cutting a clean line right back into his already bandaged thumb. He may have underestimated just how important his depth perception actually is when it comes to his hand-eye coordination. The poultice wrap sitting awkwardly over the left side of his face certainly isn't doing him any favors.

Maxwell bites back a noise of frustration, flicking the wood shavings accumulating in the sheet on his lap back into the fire. So much for trying to take up carving to kill the time. Eating utensils would have been nice, but he clearly is lacking the finesse to do much of anything to the stick in his hand.

Other than dulling his blade, he supposes.

[sisturn]

@artful-mimicry wanted violence

a lot of things happen on the full moon, one thing prominently being how it irritates the dead enough to stir them from the various graves across the constant. while abigail has a lot more emotional intelligence, she's unfortunately not exempt from the madness of the moon either. normally, she can reign it in, but earlier today she'd had to take nightshade nostrum to help wendy fend off hounds, and the potion has the particularly potent ghost-equivalant side effect of raising her blood pressure and making her more irritable in general.

abby and wendy probably wouldn't have relied on the potion were either of them knowledgeable about the significance of the coming night. yet what's been done is done, and now the consequences are here in the form of a very, very angry and bloodthirsty ghost child who's been running rampant about the camp. luckily, most of the others are taking the lit night to explore.

except... well, isn't sadistically fitting that wes, with the worst luck of them all, is someone who's around to be caught in abigail's violent rampage. she'd never attack him intentionally, her affections would prevent even the notion of that---but she's certainly not lucid at the moment.

abigail unfortunately catches sight of the mime and screeches, ghastly howls of unfiltered rage making her seem far from a child and more akin to her mindless, angry brethren.

she doesn't hesitate in lunging for wes, sharp petals and claws clearly brandished and aiming to harm.

[sisturn]

@blighted-petals || cont.

if she had blood, it would be boiling. abby's mind is muddled with fright, anger, and sorrow. it doesn't matter to the ten-year-old who charlie is or what she can do. it doesn't matter that this is a mere setback and wendy will be back later. all that matters is abby's sister—her other half, her twin—had the life ripped out of her whilst abigail could've done something to prevent it. it's her job to protect wendy, and she failed again.

the ghoulish girl clambers to her feet where she'd been shoved onto the ground. she levitates in the air, eyes alight with fury. she unhinges her jaw and wails, a clamorous heart-wrenching sound even outside of sputtered speech.

"shut UP! rules this, rules that, yeah right! you make allowances! i'm not stupid, i've witnessed it! or maybe that's fake too and you're just like my stupid uncle who'd rather squash everyone's hopes!" abby hisses, dashing forward to try to slash at charlie again. "you two are the same—you both killed wendy! YOU BOTH KILLED MY SISTER!"

[sisturn]

@marchofprogress | starter!

WX-78 is neat. they’re a robot, which abigail thinks is one of the coolest things ever. she usually only gets to admire from afar, considering the fact she spends most of her time around wendy, who in turn spends her time out of camp or around the survivors who are not WX.

well, today’s a day for sticking around camp anyway—while everybody else is making and repairing gear for the upcoming season, the young ghost has it in her mind that she’s going to make a friend today. or an acquaintance. she’s seen how rude WX is, but she’s determined to at least officially meet them.

abigail casually drifts over and sits on the ground, watching WX go about their business. her dead gaze is taken off the automaton as she searches for a means to get their attention. her sister isn’t here to be a proxy for her, and likely wouldn’t want to be, anyway… oh, wait! WX has a radio! perfect. the ghoul dissipates into the ground, reappearing near where the radio sits; she picks it up and nestles it against her chest, then skips a few paces closer to the robot.

she wails. the radio, glowing due to it technically being haunted, crackles to life and sputters out comprehensible speech. “HI. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

[sisturn]

shining armor prompts. || accepting!

@marchofprogress said: "WHY ARE YOU SO INVESTED IN KEEPING ME ALIVE?"

abigail sharply turns her head to glance at WX, an irritated wail escaping her being. they couldn’t have waited just one more second to ask questions? the last nightmare splumonkey bites the ghost’s arm, drawing her attention. with a growl and a forceful blow, she successfully crushes the corrupted primate into hair and blobs of nightmare fuel.

abigail lets out a breathless huff, drawing closer to the battered robot so that they’re bathed in her eerie glow. she leans over, examining their ripped and dented shell. she’s no mechanic, but that looks bad. abigail turns to glance at the damaged bio-scanner that sits nearby in parts and pieces. that device is definitely out of commission too.

the ghost rounds on WX, eyes narrowed. loud, haunting whispers erupt from her as she pulls WX’s backpack over, rummaging through it until she fetches an adequate mechanical trinket to talk through. ( apparently messing with robotics is far easier than other communication methods. ) she wraps her claws around the device, making eye contact with the automaton.

“YOU’RE A TEAMMATE. I DON’T LIKE MY TEAMMATES DYING. EVEN THE REALLY STUPID ONES,” the device sputters as she wails, “PLUS YOU WOULD HAVE TO REDO ALL YOUR SELF IMPROVEMENT STUFF.”

abigail breaks off into grumbles, craning her neck to look back and forth. no rifts are close enough for the nightmare creatures to notice WX and her yet, and hopefully all the splumonkeys are dead. abigail weaves through the air, circling around WX a few times protectively before idling at a their side and scratching the side of her head under her flower; she’d brought her actual physical flower in a hurry because she needed a clear head, meaning the situation is all the more risky.

“I’LL ASK WHAT ON EARTH WAS GOING THROUGH YOUR DENSE HEAD LATER. STAY CLOSE TO ME OR THE DARKNESS WILL EAT YOUR PLATING FOR BREAKFAST,” abigail hisses, her flower’s petals unfurling slightly, “CAN YOU WALK OR DO I HAVE TO DRAG YOU?”

[sisturn]

give the ghoulie some hugs!

@artful-mimicry said: Wes would be happy to give hugs!!! Anything for his favorite little ghostie

and she’s quite the happy ghost about it! she has to be lifted up a little because of how tall he is, but she’s near-weightless so it isn’t a problem for wes. her flower brightens and lets loose some petals, along with a soothing aroma as the girl giggles and buries her face in the mime’s shoulder.

[sisturn]

speaking of… || accepting!

anonymous said: talk about wanda?

“miss wanda? she’s on the move enough that you’d think she’s got to circumnavigate the globe within twelve hours or something. she makes me soOo0o dizzy sometimes… and she’s always talking about things that nobody understands, which is apparently ‘cause she’s a time traveler. she does make a lot of clocks and watches and whatzits, which is pretty neat. i’d like to spend more time with her, but that’s unlikely ‘cause it seems like she has every minute booked for something!”

abigail pauses, fiddling with her fingers. she glances back and forth, then leans a bit closer to the curious silhouette.

“uh… let’s keep this between you and me, but i’m interested in playing with her time machine stuff. i feel like she’s holding out on us.”

the ghost flexes her hands, fingertips sharpening into lethal claws.

“so, push come to shove, i’d do a lot to get my hands on the secrets of the things. i want to see what they can really do. i’m sure they’re far more helpful than they seem to be.”

[sisturn]

send me a ❖ + a question and my muse will be forced to tell the truth. || accepting!

anonymous said: ❖ + Why do you think Maxwell took the survivors to the Constant?

"for fun," she grumbles, plucking petals off of a flower, "why else would he put a bunch of unrelated people in this weird world? i'm sure he's gotten some amusement out of everyone running around like headless chickens... i really don't understand it much, though. it gets really upsetting watching people die over and over."

[sisturn]

comforting/soft vibe starters.

@bcrcavcd said: “You can scream if you need to.”

whilst none other could really discern abigail’s demeanor, to her sister it would hopefully translate that the ghastly girl doesn’t look even remotely amused. abigail squints down at wendy from where she hovers; had she had arms manifested, she’d likely be crossing them.

“ mmmhm. sure. maybe that would help a little. ” abigail drawls, drifting back and forth in the air just barely out of wendy’s reach. the ghost leans forward a bit, staring directly at the bottle held within her sister’s grasp. “ buuuuut. i have an incredibly cool and unique idea instead. how about we skip the medicine today? I’m feeling great. i don’t need it. ”

( bold words for someone who almost was splatted into ectoplasm puddles by a few tentacles not three hours ago. )

[sisturn]

“every day there’s some new breed of stupidity.”

[sisturn]

[Magmatic - either here or at forged-scales-cursed-furs?]

DST cosmetic prompts!

summer is awful. sure, throwing water balloons at people is great, but honestly everything is so much better in the caves. that’s where summer should be spent. summer on the surface is horrible because, wildfires happen.

the forest is on fire, surrounding her and the epic inventor guy. abigail lingers nervously in the only clear spot they’ve found. she would absolutely be out of here were it not for the fact she has her flower on her. plus, she doesn’t want to leave the epic inventor guy for dead.

the ghost flits around levi, wailing anxiously above the roar of the fire. she frantically gestures to him, trying to pantomime out a watering can—or a water balloon. anything. her flower is feeling far too heated.

[sisturn]

Wonderful Bucket Of Dirt For You, My Friend

“why do you keep giving me dirt. you know i can’t eat it. i can’t have the delicious soil… and nobody else understands how nice dirt is to eat.”

[sisturn]

wow… he didn’t even need to read her writing to understand. the ease of communication warms her heart, adding to her excitement and she’s already pretty thrilled that he’s going to teach her!

abigail follows wes’s lead, sitting down cross-legged and gently caressing the balloon given to her. she’s still as a corpse, only the occasional movement of the head indicating that she’s anything but zoned out. the child finally moves her hands, gingerly lifting up her tube balloon and gently trying to mimic the mime.

first time, she slips. second time, she’s done it too slow. third time, she manages to do it. it’s nowhere near perfect, but it’s the first twist and it’s holding. abigail looks up at wes eagerly, ready to follow after his next motions—likely with mediocrity, but with persistence.

continued from x with @sisturn

Wes gave a polite little bow when he finished his faux performance. He took such pride in his balloon work, despite how people tried to claim it was “magic”. It was just clever twists and loops! No different than sleight of hand stage magic, considering he knew the basic of that as well.

Upon seeing how excited the little ghost got, he did stand up straighter. Reading her excited pantomiming, he understood what she wanted without reading what she wrote out. The prospect excited him quite a bit! Nobody ever asked him to teach them anything except the occasional sign, so it was a real treat to be able to teach balloon tricks!

Sitting down in front of the ghost, he stretched out one of the long balloons for her as he blew it up. Once the example was tied off, he handed it over gently, gesturing for her to hold on as he blew up one for himself. He held it up, before making the first twist near the end of the balloon. He wanted to start simple with a basic balloon dog. Boring, but it taught basic twists that Abby would need to know if she wanted to make anything else.

[sisturn]

You content with being dead?

fight the itchy. fight the itchy. it doesn’t exist. she crosses her arms and drums her fingers.

“use that stupid flesh-brain of yours and think. would you be?”

[sisturn]

speaking of… || accepting!

anonymous said: talk about wormwood

“that’s the plant guy, right?” abigail taps a claw against her chin in thought. “i’ve only glimpsed him a few times in passing, never really talked to him directly… he seems pretty polite and friendly, so he’s off the suspicion hook for now. little guy seems a bit desperate for company, i’d say. he seems like he’s got good intentions.”

[sisturn]

@sillywillow | starter!

abigail wanders aimlessly around camp as everyone busies themselves with various tasks—cooking, crafting, and whatnot—and huffs silently. there's not much she can help with at the moment, much to her ire; even most of the other kids are busy and engaged in something, leaving the ghost to simply watch.

luckily, abigail happens to wander near storage and spots willow grabbing some supplies that look like they're for the road. presuming the woman is about to go on some excursion outside of the campground, abby seizes the opportunity. she quickly grabs a minisign and some charcoal, furiously scribbling on the wood. she nestles the extra signs in the crook of her elbow, then rushes over to willow.

the ghost lets out a pitiful moan to get the other's attention. then, abigail gives her biggest pleading look and holds up the sign which says, in hasty but decent handwriting, "can i come with you where you're going pleas?"