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roseofithaca · 5 months ago

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The Tribe (Part 1)

Elysabeth (my oc) missing her friend after she's moved on. Set somewhat in @idiotwithanipad 's Ascended!verse.

The comforting scent of salt water greets her as she wakes, stretching her arms out beneath the thick duvet, the mattress barely rocking. They must be on smoother waters than when she went to sleep. Most of the furniture in her cabin is nailed down to stop it tossing about when they're caught in a rare storm.

Reaching out her hand, she tugs the curtain aside to see a clear blue sky with barely any clouds, the Infinite Ocean stretching out to the horizon. She smiles as she settles back on her pillow. She'd never got to visit a beach in life, or her first afterlife. Now it's become her main home and dry land is the novelty.

A set of beefy knuckles tap against the door a few minutes later.

"Rise and shine, Starfish! Need my first mate up on the deck before I can break my fast!" William's jovial voice booms through the door.

A sulky moan is her reply. One downside of choosing to remain a teenager, she would forever prefer to lie in when given the option. But her stomach betrays her and William only ever brings her breakfast in bed on Sundays.

He would probably do it every day if she asked, but he knows she always feels better once she's up and about, eager to help where she can on the ship.

Despite her 'rank', her cabin is as large as the Captain's, and one would assume belonged to a travelling royal considering all the treasure decorating the shelves. Worlds apart from the straw mattress bed in the corner of her parents' cottage where she was born.

Her wardrobe is filled with dresses and outfits from hundreds of eras and cultures, but mostly she sticks to the style she grew up in, though often modified to suit a sailors work. The first time she'd worn ladies' trousers instead of a dress had taken a lot of getting used to.

Once she's picked out an outfit and rebraided her hair, she skips up the steps to the top deck, already feeling awakened by the smell of fried eggs.

William usually cooks breakfast while Elysabeth handles lunch, the two of them working together for dinner unless one is needed at the helm. Though the ship is the size of a small but wealthy home, there's rarely any other crew besides the two of them. Sometimes Godric and his family will come aboard for a trip. On a few occasions they managed to drag poor Clarence on, only for the poor old guy to get seasick. But mostly it was just the two of them. Which was more than enough, William had over half a century to modify the ship to only need one person at the controls, and another just to make sure they didn't fall overboard.

William's eyes are sparkling with mischief as Lyssie steps out into the sunshine.

"Better get here quick, lass, before I snatch all the best hashbrowns for meself!" He winks, already sat at the table.

"I dare thee to try!" She giggles, rushing to pull out her chair and pick at the delicious food laid out to spoon onto her plate.

Excited bird calls squawk above them. Seagulls.

"Ah! Land must be in sight. Better fill your stomach, Starfish, need you to help me raise the sails to catch that easterly wind to take us into port." William nods, mopping some egg yoke from his beard.

"Thou does only wish to be rid of me so ye can pinch that last tomato!" She accuses with a wriggle of her nose.

"Ha! Cheeky wench, ye see right through me."

At first, she believes she fainted. Could spirits faint? She can't recall it happening before, but surely if one was in great shock it were possible.

They'd been playing hide and seek for the umpteenth time. It had become a tad more interesting since the fancy men built the big house. So many rooms and corridors and crawl spaces to huddle away in. Far more interesting than the woods they'd played in for nearly eight hundred years.

She remembers him finding her in the safe. His paws had been on her waist, fingers squirming into her sides in victory. She'd laughed. She'd pushed him away, little hands pressing against those furry pelts until...

A light. Brighter than the sun.

And singing.

"Rogh? Rogh, what be happening, I....?"

Her hands reached out again for his furs, his hands, or even his beard, only to grasp at thin air.

Blink. Blink again.

The light starts to fade, the chorus of cherabum drifting away with the warm breeze that caresses her cheeks.

Warm. She feels the warmth.

More blinks as the world becomes clear around her. Gone is the dark safe littered with cobwebs and objects buried beneath layers of dust. She's now stood in the middle of a vast field of tall grass. It tickles up against her feet. She gasps. Passing her hand downward, her fingers stroke the tips of the soft, emerald blades.

It's real. More than any dream she's had before. The first thing she's touched other than one of her fellow Deadies in eight centuries.

Looking up, she quickly realises the landscape around her is no longer that of Bone Hall estate. Great hills of rock capped with snow glisten on the horizon. Mountains? She's never seen a mountain outside of paintings. To her west is a rolling forest of towering trees the likes of which dwarf those in the woods she's known as home for so long. Where is she? And where is-?

"Ha! Finally decided to join us, ey Lys?"

She hasn't heard that voice in almost fifty years. Her heart skips a beat as she turns around.

Godric. Clarence.

There they are, the two fools, stood less than twenty feet away, grinning at her fondly. She has to blink again, mouth open as the shock keeps her in its grip. Their clothes are different...Not just a change of outfits, but Godric no longer has a great chunk of wood impaled in his sides. And Clarence looks....dry?

"Careful, pet. You'll be catching flies on your tongue if your mouth stays open like that." Chuckles the old friar, hands clasped around his belly.

A laugh of joy escapes her. And then she's running forward.

It takes three steps before she notices. Glancing down, she pulls up the skirt of her dress.

"Ah, the Lord has worked his miracle already for you!"

"Suits you better than that bone on show." Godric comments.

There it is. Her leg, healthy and whole, stocking included. She feels it to make sure and then stretches it out. Giggling, she jumps.

"I been healed! I been healed!" She exclaims and springs forward into Godric's waiting arms, letting him swing her around.

When the hugs and laughter and testing to make sure the skin wasn't about to peel off her limb again are all done, Elysabeth catches her breath, taking another look out at the beautiful land around them.

"Be it true? Is this Heaven? Clarence?" She looks to the old priest.

He smiles, shrugging with his palms facing upwards.

"I'd say it's as close as we could imagine, judging by what I've seen since I left thee all. Though I have yet to meet my Lord face to face as I woulds have desired, the land and all the wonders I have glimpsed are truly divine. There be no sickness or disease here, child. No war or injustice. Take a breath in, dear Elysabeth? Does it not fill thy lungs with a sense of Peace?"

Normally, she would roll her eyes at the old man's flowery language, but this time she indulges him. One deep breath and she feels as if her body could happily float up to lounge on the wind. The scent of lavender and chamomile wafts against her nose.

Godric's hand claps down on her back.

"And if that all gets a bit too sugary for ye, there be plenty of excitement to be found, Lys! Trust me. I haven't had a day go by since I arrived where I has been bored."

It's almost too perfect. Too good to be true.

And it's when she turns to search for the face of who she knows would be most thrilled to be here, in this paradise, that the dream is smashed.

Elysabeth frowns; "....Rogh. He didn't...?"

The faces of the two older men fall at the same time.

"No, love. Rogh and Will remain back at the house. Heaven seems to only allow one through the gate at a time." He gives Clarence a funny look, as if he - or rather his God - were to blame for setting up those rules.

Lyssie gulps, reaching to stroke her cross necklace. Though she hadn't prayed in many years, she found herself desperately pleading that they were okay.

"He...He'd been right there with me. We'd been playing and..." Her lip wobbled as she recalled his hands catching her. How she'd playfully shoved him away...

Clarence sighs; "Ah, well, that be a blessing for him, I'm sure! He got to see thou leave with his own two eyes."

"Yeah, no doubt if ye had simply gone up without either of them seein', they'd have both made themselves sick with worry." Godric agrees; "I bet they're both chuffed to bits that ye got to pass on to us at last, Lys."

Another blink, this time to fight back a brief spell of tears. Then she nods, forcing a smile.

Yes. Of course, Rogh would be happy for her. He's always happy when one of his friends goes 'whoosh' as he says. Both him and William are probably roaring with cheerful laughter. They've probably picked out a star for her as they did for Godric and Clarence. Is it night time there now? Does time work the same? It's mid day here but...what if the sun never sets in Heaven?

"Ey. Come on, love. I'd like you to come meet my Becca proper. And my little'ens." Godric offers, holding out his hand to her.

Little'ens? All of Godric and Rebecca's children were stillborn. Seven of them. They're all here? Alive, so to speak? No wonder his eyes shine brighter than before.

She lets that distract her. For now.

Home is whatever you wish to make of it here, that's what she was taught after seeing the house which Godric claimed to have built with his own two hands. A charming country house with a room each of his kids as well as him and Becca. Not quite a mansion but far bigger than their little hovel back when the village still stood.

The inside, however, is a constant chaos of children ranging from toddlers to adolescents bustling from room to room, while Godric's wife kneads her freshly baked loaves in the kitchen. The demons which had taken her mind and led to her taking her own life seem to have been long defeated, her face is glowing with the return of her husband and children. She greets Lyssie with a proper motherly hug, as if it's not their first time meeting.

"Thou is more than welcome to stay here!" She tells Lyssie after making her some warm jam on toast, the thirteen year old swooning with each bite as she sits at the table. Her first meal in hundreds of years. "Ye been as much a daughter to my Godric as our own girls."

"Of course, if ye wish to see your own kin, I can help thee find them too? It's up to you, Lys." Godric reassures her.

She thinks of her parents. Strict. Cold. Taught her the basics to survive and provided what they could for her to make it to three and ten. She had little memory of her mother outside of lashes with a birch twig to her knees, and her father snapping at her to tie the fences tighter.

Add to that the fact that it had been Godric and Clarence who had greeted her here, it felt as though whoever was in charge of this place wanted her to know who her real family was.

A little bashful, she asks if she can stay.

Godric offers to build her her own room but she insists there's no rush. One of his daughter's is kind enough to share hers, and there's enough room so that all Godric need build her is a bed.

He crafts it within a couple of hours, Becca stitching together pelts for a bedsheet and swan down pillows in the same time. It seemed that anyone someone desired could be granted here, if also willing to add their own effort putting it together.

That night, her first night in this strange new land, Elysabeth couldn't sleep. She stared up at the ceiling, in this house full of love and people and natural warmth. Her hand smoothed across the pelts. Soft. Fluffy.

Her heart ached as she gripped them firmly.

Rogh. Her heart ached for Rogh.

Not that she didn't miss William too. His wild stories, his jokes, his roaring laughter. Even with Godric's large family around her, life still felt quieter without the pirate around.

But Rogh? Rogh was special. Rogh was...had been everything to her since the day she died. As soon as she'd been saved from the dead beasts of the land by the feral, mad but good-hearted savage, their souls had been entangled from that moment on. She'd always slept close to his side, no matter where the two of them had been forced to find a place to settle as each home was torn down. After all those years, it felt impossible to sleep without his paw around her, without the sound of his gruff light snores, his warm breath on her neck.

Did he feel the same? Was he struggling to rest without her in his arms? Was he enjoying the space? It wasn't something she'd demanded remained the same, merely an act of habit that none had been eager to finish, even when they found themselves in a house with multiple rooms.

It just made sense for them to stay together. Rogh made Elysabeth feel safe. Protected. And it was better for Rogh that Lys was as close as possible in case his nightmares returned and she needed to sooth him.

Satan's beard. His nightmares.

What if they come back worse now? Will William know how to comfort him? The pirate is great for japes and games, but succour? Her heart beats fast in fear for her dear companion.

Fingers curl tight in the pelts.

She shouldn't have pushed him away. Their last physical interaction. He'd grabbed her. He'd won the game. And she'd pushed him off when she should have clung to him like a lifeline.

Mayhaps then he'd be here with her now.

"I wish to go back."

Clarence's face pales; "Go back?"

"Back...down there's." She gestures, tilting her head; "Back home to the big house. To Rogh and William."

They sit together in the front pew of the chapel that Clarence has built himself since he arrived. Nothing too ornate, but a house of worship with more insulation and comforts than any humble church found in the Living world. Lyssie still considered herself a doubter of Christ but this was a comforting place just to come and sit when the luxuries of Heaven became....overwhelming.

The friar looks up at Godric who stands behind her, his arms crossed.

"Don't look at me. Assumed if there were a way, thou wouldst know." He shrugs.

"I told thee both before, I have as many questions left unclear about all this as I did before. There be no angels or saints or the Lord to speak with." The old man sighs, not surprised that the others don't listen to him. "But that be besides the point."

He reaches out to hold Lyssie's hands.

"Why in God's name would ye wish to return there, dear child?"

She cringed. How could they not get it? How did they find it so easy to just...move on?

Godric joins them, sitting on her other side.

"Are ye not happy with me and Becca?" He asks with tender concern.

"No! I means, yes, I..." She corrects herself, gritting her teeth, "Thou has both been evers so kind to me. Becca is as close to a mum I mights ever get to meet. But...this all be wrong. Don't ye both see? We lefts our friends behind!"

The two men share a look. Godric pats her braids.

"Thou is missing Rogh and William still? 'Should have said, Lys, love."

"T'is not merely missing them, Godric! I feel that...there be a mistake. Why do all the joys and comforts of Heaven bore me so? Why can my heart only thinks of them, less I was still 'sposed to be there?" She asks, a touch of desperation after too many sleepless nights.

Clarance smiles at her; "Dear one, t'is natural to be homesick. For all its faults, that land were our home for hundreds of years, and we crafted many a pleasant memory."

"'Ere, remember the time Rogh trained them swans to chase old Clarence back into the lake?" Godric whispered, poking Elysabeth's sides and making her giggle a bit.

The friar shot him a glare; "That not be quite what I mean, Godric, but thanks." He gave his short grey beard a stroke; "Perhaps it might do thee well to see our old friends? Would that bring thee some peace?"

Lyssie's eyes widened.

"I...I can sees them?!" She gasps, jumping to her feet, "Why dids either of thee not tell me before?"

"T'is advised that newcomers be given time to adjust to the hereafter first, or else their hearts will be too focused on what was left behind." The priest explains; "But it may be the opposite is true for thee."

The two men then guide Lyssie out of the chapel and a short walk through the nearby forest. These woods are vastly different to the ones back in England. No dark and gloomy shadows. No spectres of wolves or bears or unseen dangers. Tiny fae lights weave through the branches, giving everything a warm glow beneath the thick canapé. Foxes and rabbits and deer mill about in harmony, the conflict of predator and prey all but forgotten.

They follow the sparkling, clear stream until it reaches a hidden pond next to a waterfall. Lyssie feels a sense of awe at the sight and understands why Clarence removes his shoes as soon as they leave the trees. Is obviously holy ground of some sorts.

Both her and Godric feel obliged to do the same. Clarance wades into the water, towards the gentle falls, his soon damp robes reminding her of his past form.

"Come, child. T'is quite mild." He beckons her in.

Godric gives her an encouraging pat on the back, a look as if to say he's done this before.

She follows the friar into the water, standing with the water nearly up to her chest as she holds his hand. They face the waterfall and Clarance chants something in Latin. Some sort of prayer.

And then, almost immediately, something catches her eye.

"Rogh? Rogh!"

He's there. In the water. Him and William, walking together, laughing.

She can hardly believe it. They're right there. She lets go of Clarance's hand and rushes towards them.

"Careful- ooh." Godric tries to warn, to no avail.

Lyssie all but smashes her nose on the rocks.

"Ow! What in the devil's name-?!"

"T'is only a window, child." Clarance explains, gently tugging her back and seeing to her face, "A one way glance to the land before so we may check in on those left behind."

Her heart falls; "They...cannots see or hear us?"

Faintly, she could hear them. William telling a story about an Arabian spy posing as a barmaid on a land he visited, Rogh hanging off his every word.

"Rogh? Will? I be right here! T'is Lyssie! Can thee hear?" She calls, but they do not so much as turn their heads.

"Sorry, child. But doth thou see now? All still be well. Our friends smile and laugh. There be no need for thee to fret." Clarence tries to comfort.

A weight appears in her chest. This should be enough, she knows. She can see her friends. She can see that Rogh has not fallen into despair without her. Why is it not enough to sooth the pain in her heart?

And why was it so easy for Godric and Clarence? Was it because they had something here? Godric his wife and brood, Clarance his faith and community of Christians nearby?

What did she have here? No family who cared to seek her out. No friends save the two men with her, Becca and a few of the children she'd come to know. It wasn't enough. Even being able to walk and run freely again did not have her feeling complete as she'd once thought it would.

She needs to sit at William's feet and listen to more of his tales. She needs to play Hide and Seek with them both, or attempt to haunt some Livings. She needs to ride on Rogh's shoulders, feel him close again.

She needs to go home.

They now think it was a mistake to show her the waterfall.

It's all too easy to sit there for hours on end, gazing at the 'screen' of liquid, watching her old friends go about their day. She would give her damn leg back if the sacrifice were enough to return her to them.

The skies grow dark when they try to drag her away, as if her mood were strong enough to affect the weather itself. The clear, serene ever-present Spring becomes tainted by a tempestuous rising storm if they vex her by forcing her to leave. There be nothing else she desires in this so-called paradise.

Godric, Clarance and even Becca visit her often, bringing her food and blankets and gentle words, trying to persuade her to step away. Just to take a break. Joining them for dinner or a picnic or a visit to some of the other residents around.

No. Leave her alone. Please.

She hugs her knees to her chest, the shallow water up below her shoulders. Just one more of William's stories, she tells herself, her eyelids feeling heavy. There's no danger of her drowning if she falls asleep, surely.

Her chin drops to her chest.

A choir of heavenly voices ring out, the clouds above shining like spun gold.

She lifts her head.

Could it be...? Was that...?

She ran straight to Clarence, needing for him to confirm what she thought she heard meant what she thought. His old grey face lights up with almost childlike glee.

He tells her to fetch Godric.

An hour later, they travel on Godric's carriage across the familiar field, Lyssie having the privilege to ride on the horse. Her heart is pounding. Can't they go faster? Why couldn't Pegasi exist in Heaven?!

The clouds continue to shimmer. The singing fades.

In the distance, more than a large black dot, she sees someone standing up in the grass.

She runs.

Black curls whip around as William turns to see her approach. The brief confusion on his face quickly shifts into bombastic joy.

"Haha! Starfish, be that you? C'mere, you little wench, ha!"

Tears tumble down her cheeks as William lifts her off her feet and nearly crushes her in the biggest hug ever. No more blade in his chest to stop them embracing as tight as they'd like. Soon, Godric and Clarence have caught up, William yanking both of them into the group hug.

The grief and yearning is forgotten about, just for a brief reprise, as she's held in the arms of these daft men who became her family. Except...

She pulls back, blinking up at him.

"W-what about Rogh? He's not still...?"

She glances around. Yes, they said only one at a time, but she could hope that....Just this once...

Godric claps a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't look like he came with, love." He says, sorrowful.

Even William let's out a disappointed sigh; "The old sea dog stayed behind? Oh, rusted barnacles, that be a great shame. Still, I dids leave him laughing ever so hard as them angels took me up!"

Lyssie stares at him.

"Has there been anyone new died yet?"

William closes his gob and shakes his head.

"Afraid not, Starfish. It been only the two of us since ye left and broke our manly hearts, ye did." He tries to add a touch of levity, nudging her teasingly; "There be Godric's lot in the basement but they refuse to set foot above, and ye know our dear wild man can't be contained in the dirt."

Heat rises in her cheeks. Irrational anger explodes from her as she rushes forward, beating her fists against his belly.

"THOU LEFT HIM ALONE?! HOW DARE THEE! HOW DARE THEE!"

"Lys, stop!" Godric drags her off, her limbs flailing like a toddler having a tantrum.

William's face sinks with guilt.

"Lyssie, dearest, ye know I woulds never-."

"None of thee understand! Ye weren't there with us all those years, ye don't know him as I do!" She all but wails; "He were alone for all that time and it broke him to pieces! He cannots be abandoned again, nots by us!"

They call her name as she runs back across the field, back to the waterfall. Back to her Rogh...

#bbc ghosts fanfic #ghosts oc #oc: elysabeth #oc: godric #oc: clarence #william the pirate

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roseofithaca · 3 months ago

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The Feast of Lyssie

Some Robin and Elysabeth (my oc) fluff, also the others in the 'Gone, Gone' group. Ft a cameo of @idiotwithanipad 's oc Nathaniel.

"Ugh! It still happening?!"

"Blessed Christmastide to thee as well, dear brother!" Clarence chortled, giving the caveman a jovial slap on the back.

It brought a giggle out of the young Saxon girl sat near to them on the garden bench. Rarely was it the case that the mild-mannered monk was the boisterous one and Rogh the sourpuss.

Before them, a gathering of the local villagefolk and Lord Alexander Bone's household were stood together as one people, regardless of status, smiling as they sung their carols. Light snow dusted their coats and barely coated the grey green of the winter grass, but there remained a festive cheer in the air.

"Did the singing wake thee, sweet thing?" She asks her oldest and dearest fellow spirit.

He grunted, rolling his eyes; "Try to stuff fur in ears but it keep going 'whoosh' back out!"

"Ah, the Lord must be eager to convert his blessed savage! Why dost thou resist? I thought thou revelled in a good party!" Clarence continued to chide their fur-clad companion.

"Leave him be, Clarence. Rogh hast never been fond of the Christmas season and that won't be shiftin' anytimes soon." She tried to defend, as much as she found his annual grumpiness somewhat amusing.

Probably because when he frowned, he resembled a cat that had been denied a second breakfast.

"Just don't get big deal! Me seen many, many Big Cold party days, they always change. This one just latest fad!" He tried to explain his annoyance with the usual speech.

"Thou calls fourteen hundred years a mere fad? Piffle!" The monk scoffs.

It was often difficult for them all to imagine the span of time that Rogh had been there before then. But one and a half millenniums seemed to be a mere blink compared to the rest of his time trapped in this realm. Lyssie tried not to think about it, not wanting to get downhearted at this time of year.

"And anyway - day already gone! They all sing and eat big meal and give each other orange rocks-."

"Tangerines." Clarence corrected.

"Why still they sing today? Go bed! Idiots."

"Rogh, sweetheart, Christmastide is supposed to last for all of twelve days. At least, for those here who be rich enough for that. Thems we used to watch in the old village could barely afford to spare the one day." Lyssie tried to tell him; "And today be the Feast of St. Stephen."

"Oh great, and who he? Cross Man's cousin or something?" Rogh mocked, to Clarence's clear disdain.

"No, my dear heathen, he be the first martyr for our Lord." He then turned to Lyssie; "But blessings on you, child, for holding the day in memory."

She pulled a face at Rogh, sticking out her tongue as if to say 'ha ha I'm teacher's favorite!', to which he pulled a silly snarl in return, gesturing with his paws at her for being a goody two shoes.

"If I be honest, it be the easiest day for me to recall, seeing as it also be the day I was born." She admitted, blandly.

Clarence's hands dropped to his side while Rogh blinked at her.

"What?"

"Today be thy birthday, child?" The monk gawped.

She shrugged, a touch of red in her cheek; "Yes, so I were told. Ma always said her labour pains did begin after they finished the goose and she dids take me to be little more than indigestion." The girl gave a short laugh.

The older men still looked flabbergasted.

"Rogh, was thou aware of this?" The drowned friar turned to question him.

The caveman shook his head; "No! Why Lys-bee no mention barf-day before?!"

"Dids thou even mark such events for wee babes in thy time of living?" She asked.

He blinked, stumped at that.

No....and yes. It was different, back in his day. They had no calenders or dates to keep track of a single day. But rites of passage for cubs were still important, one of the few reasons they had for festive occasions, other than days set to give thanks to Moonah, Solah and Earth Mum.

"It be no bother. Never got much fuss growin' up, it bein' the Saints day and all. And t'is not like I has aged in troth since I perished here." Elysabeth shrugged again.

Rogh felt his chest tighten. Lyssie Cub...had never really celebrated her birthday before?

"Regardless, I wish thee Many Happy Returns, child!" Clarence gave her a warm smile. "Uh, at least until the Lord see fit to carry thee up into His bosom."

"Thanks. I'm gonna go watch the folk out on the lake with Godric." She said, slotting her loose bone into place in her mangled leg, then carefully getting to her feet. "Want to come, Rogh? Be free of the sing songs?" She smirked.

"Uhh no, me starting to get into it, me think." He said, turning away from her and putting his paw to his chin as he watched the crowd, in a rather exaggerated show of concentration.

"Oh...okay. Till later then." She threw Clarence a somewhat confused look before she began to limp off down the path.

The friar waited until Lyssie disappeared behind the hedgerows before speaking to Rogh.

"Ha! I knew the good Lord would melt thy heart in time, my friend! No heathen can resist good songs of praise."

"No, this still awful." Rogh said, dropping the act, "What we do about Lyssie Cub?"

"What dost thou mean?"

"It her barf-day! And me had no idea!" He exclaimed, guiltily, "We been through many, many Big Colds together, watched men have many 'Chrisp-mas' parties - she never once say her barf-day same time!"

"What's this I be 'earin'?" A booming voice made its entrance as William appeared, striding through the walls of the newly built manor. "Did ye say the little lass' birthday be today?"

"Yes!" Rogh confirmed to the pirate; "And me only just know!"

"For Heaven's sake, man, how many centuries have the two of thee been together?" Clarence rolled his eyes.

Longer than most who join him in haunting this land. Back when houses were still being mostly built from mud and wood and straw, and England was said to have many kings, not just the one. Those early years are mostly a blur to him now, a living nightmare where his mind had clawed its way out from a dark pit of primal fear and confusion. The only flicker of light he remembers is Lyssie's face, her gentle voice easing him out of those fits, her little hand steady and fearless as she rubbed his head.

"Ah, don't let it depress thee, friend." William patted his shoulder; "M'sure the little starfish took no offence."

"She should! Me should have asked!" He berated himself, clenching his fist to stop from giving himself a thump.

Even if his tribe didn't have 'barf days', they kept track of how long a cub had lived by following the moon. Ten Full Moonahs were a sign the cub might live to maturity and was always seen as a blessing. Then it was measured by how many Winters and Summers they lived through.

Pin cub had been eight summers the last time he saw her. His youngest, Nib, had only been three Moonahs.

Why hadn't he bothered to count the Moonahs and seasons with Lyssie Cub? Even if he tried to do it now in retrospect, there'd be too big a gap in his memory to be certain. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Need to do something. Lyssie Cub deserve big party!" He said, eagerly.

"So thou will not celebrate the Winter season for the birth of God, but will for thy foundling girl?" Clarence asked.

"Exactly! Now Monk Fish get it!" Rogh grinned, giving him a sharp slap on the back this time, bringing a snort of laughter from Will. "If not for Lyssie Cub, me still be lost in woods, acting like dumb animal."

Clarence opened his mouth but Will silenced him with a nudge to his gut.

"Aye, he speaks true! We shoulds give the fair maiden a great feast of merriment, with pitchers of cider and plates teemin' with sweet cakes-." The pirate said, rubbing his hands together.

"And how exactly are we to do that?" Asked Clarence, narrowing his eyes, "Have thee forgotten we lack the ability to cook and brew in our current states? Let alone eat?"

Will raised a finger and opened his mouth to reply, before the realisation seemed to hit him.

"Oh. Right. Heh, got away with meself a bit there."

Rogh also felt his spirit deflate somewhat. There was very little they could do to arrange anything special for Lyssie Cub. He couldn't exactly go skin an animal and offer its body to Fire before gifting her with new furs, as he had with his own children. Couldn't make special berry juice or give her shiny stone to help craft her first spear.

Besides, Lyssie Cub wouldn't want those things. Slaughtering one of her animal friends would be the last gift she'd want. Also, she was a little romantic. She loved watching parties for the singing and the dances, she enjoyed sitting in the front pew at weddings to watch guy and lady promise to love each other forever. Oftentimes, she'd dragged him to many of these ceremonies and forced him to sit through the mushy 'mahogany' propaganda. She loved listening to Will's stories, the big boring poems from the bards, and the fairytales the village elders speak.

A spark flickered in his head.

"That it! We can still make party for Lyssie Cub, no need food or drink or blood sacrifice!" He said with glee.

"Sacrifice?!" Clarence balked.

"What ye have in mind, my brother? No effort be spared for our little Lys." Will smiled, throwing an arm around Rogh's fluffy shoulders.

Not again! How did this even happen?! He'd been fine when she spoke to him earlier that day!

"Maybe it be faster if I carry thee, love." Godric said as he followed her down the path.

Lyssie shook her head, pushing herself to go as fast as she could despite her leg. There was no pain as she limped, only discomfort, along with the worry that her bone might slip out again and cause her to fall. Never mind, she was nearly there now.

"I be fine, Godric!" She persisted, passing through the solid oak door to the manor; "Rogh! William! Clarence!"

The pirate had gone ahead of them, after having rushed to inform Lyssie and Godric at the lake of the tragic turn of events.

A relapse. The madness had taken hold of her sweet friend's mind once again, after so many years. What on Earth had triggered it? Had it...Had it been something she said? Had she teased him too much over being a grump at Christmastime? Or had there been other, more subtle signs she'd neglected to notice?

Foolish Lyssie! This is supposed to be your job, the one you offered to take up yourself, to look after him in these darker moments. But he'd grown so much stronger lately. More articulate over the years, standing mostly upright, more like a Man than ever. She'd become to complacent, assumed all this was long behind them.

"We be in the great hall, child!" Clarence called down the hall, "Quick, come hither!"

Hitching up her tattered dress, Lyssie practically hopped as quick as she could down the corridor and towards the east wing of the manor, towards the largest room of the house where the Lord Bone hosted most of his guests.

She ignored Godric's warnings of caution as he followed close behind. Her nonexistent heartbeat still managed to thud loudly against her eardrums with each eager stride.

I be coming, dear Rogh. Lyssie is coming.

Before she could turn the corner, Godric managed to catch up and threw his hands over her eyes.

"Godric! What hath possessed thee-?"

"Trust me, little'en. Walk forward now." He instructed, lowering his voice.

Worry and confusion chilled her. But she obeyed. Five steps forward, the older man's rough, hard worker's hands firmly on her face.

What was ha-?

They suddenly stopped. He removed them.

"SURPRISE!"

Lyssie blinked at the small crowd gathered in the great hall, cheering and clapping as they faced her with wide smiles.

The basement dwellers, Godric's village that were struck by plague after his own death, had ventured up to the surface, all of them stood behind three of her more constant companions, beaming at her. William, Clarence, and of course, her Rogh - looking as bright eyed and coherent as could be for a creature such as him.

"Happy birthday, Lyssie, love!" Godric whispered in her ear.

She turned to give him a gentle thump in the arm.

"Thou fiend! All of thee," She said whilst laughing. "Ye had me so worried, I..."

She was speechless. Nothing like this had ever been set up for her before.

Looking around the hall, she could forgive the fact that the decorations were not intended for her, but had been left up by the staff for the remaining twelve days, along with the fireplace still burning bright, pre-heating the room for when his Lordship is due to return for his supper.

She looked to the three men before her.

"This thy doing?" She asked.

Both William and Clarence pointed at Rogh.

"All his idea, lass! Not that we needed much persuadin'!" The pirate grinned.

Rogh's face reddened beneath the thick brown fuzz of his beard.

"Happy Barf-day, Lys-Bee." He smiled.

She could have hugged all the breath out of him, the bashful dear.

"We don't have much in the way of gifts or sweets, I'm afraid." Said Godric.

"But we've got music!" Mick from the village rose his hand and blew into a small wooden recorder he carried around with him, "And Sarah has her lute!"

"And you all told me I were foolish to try to take it with me into Heaven!" Smirked a middle aged fishwife with silver in her hair and a buboe on her nose.

Nigel rolled his eyes; "Nah, we just all hoped you wouldn't."

"We've also got plenty of games planned and a few performances lined up!" Godric announced.

"Performances?" Lyssie's ears perked up.

"If you'd indulge us, Lyssie, darlin'. John's got a poem he thought you might like." Said Maude.

"And o' course I been savin' one of my best seafairin' tales for a while, what better day to share it than today?" William gave her a wink, "T'is the one I did hint to ye about the great octopus!"

Elysabeth gasped with excitement, hands flying up to her mouth.

"But before we get to all of that, first things first...." Godric lifted her up, Rogh moving forward to take her 'bad leg', the two men forming something of a throne for her with their shoulders.

Lyssie creased with laughter as they all began to sing before her.

"For she's a jolly good fellow,

For she's a jolly good fellow,

And so say all of us, HEY!"

After she received her fourteen birthday 'bumps', them all realising it would be best not to go with the number of her actual age at this point, the first part of the dancing commenced. Sarah and Mick kept an upbeat, joyful rhythm while some of the men yodelled a merry tune.

Lyssie was nervous to dance at first, anxious that she wouldn't be up to the task with her leg as it was, but everyone who came to twirl her around the room was careful, the older ones lifting her up to take her weight off. It made her feel a little more childish, but she could let that slide for today. She had spent centuries watching Livings dance, it felt amazing to at last be at her own party for once instead of secretly gatecrashing another.

When it came time for John to read his poem, about a miller's wife having an affair with a vicar, a baker and a swineherd, there was some awkwardness at first as his stutter kicked in, but then it turned into a thrilling comedic escapade as he finally got going. Even Rogh was gasping and laughing with the rest of them. In the side of her eye, she's sure she even saw Clarence crack a smile at the hilarious climax.

Poor William actually had a tough act to follow, but it didn't take long for the mood to turn as he sent them all, with his words, far out onto the open sea in the middle of a treacherous storm, lightning flashing all around as ginormous waves threatened to capsize their ship. And then, just when it seemed as though things were at their worse, four great slithery arms shot up out of the water and coiled around the ship like giant worms. Lyssie almost let out a scream, her fingers curling in Rogh's furs. Even he was watching Will and listening intently, his face paling with each second.

"But did you manage to get out?!" Mick asked, interrupting.

"Nah, laddie, I still be out on the North Sea - what d'ya think?!" Will scoffed, making everyone laugh, returning the room to its happy mood again.

The music started once again. Someone cleared their throat behind Lyssie.

She turned to see a vaguely familiar face. A boy several years older than her, a shy but kind pair of eyes, even with similar oozing scars as the rest of his village.

"Hey, uh...Just wonderin' if you fancy a dance? So you're not just stuck with the oldies, y'know." Nathaniel shrugged.

"Hey!" Rogh exclaimed in offense.

Lyssie giggled and took the hand of the only other 'youngster' in the room. She harboured no deeper feelings for him, and she was almost certain his aunt had pushed him into this, but he was a sweet enough boy that it seemed rude to turn down the offer.

They mostly chatted more than danced, discussing Will's story and their favorite parts of Pete's poem, disagreeing somewhat over if the blacksmith deserved his fate in the pig sty. The they notice the adults are watching and Nathaniel gives Lyssie a twirl, which she just about manages on her good leg.

She can see the relief and gratitude on his face when she dismisses him, allowing him to retreat back to the basement. He gives a heavy sigh, this social event clearly having drained him, and kisses her cheek in thanks. She doesn't even care about the cold sores on his lips.

Her first and only kiss from a boy. She hopes her blushing isn't as visible as Rogh's.

Speak of the devil...

"Ha! How Lyssie Cub liking party? It big fun?" The caveman finds her once Nathaniel has fled, "Me try to invite Lyssie animal friends; deer and foxes and chipmunks. Think they bit too scared of indoors."

"I shall see them this evening, when more of them will be awake." She tells him, reaching for his hand, "Thou dids not have to do any of this for me, Rogh."

His smile fell, "Lys-bee not like party? What matter - music not good? Want 'nother story? Me know a few from tribe Elder, very bloody though-."

Elysabeth grinned and reached to put her arms around his sides.

"The party be perfect, Rogh! Truly, thou has all made me feel like a princess!" She beamed.

Rogh's face lit up again. He bent down slightly in order to scoop Lyssie up so they were at eye level. She threw her arms around his mane while he tucked his arm under her legs.

"Rogh miss many Lys-bee barf days. Not mean to. Should have asked. Never forget again. We do party every year now. Promise." He said.

"Only if we has one for all the others too. And thee." She smirked, gently tugging his beard.

"Me not have barf day!" He retorted.

"I shall pick one for thee then."

"When?"

"Ah, can't say. That will ruin the surprise now, won't it? That be called payback, sweet thing." She grabbed his head in both her hands and pulled him in for a big kiss on the cheek. "Plenty of time for thee to wonder what gift I shall give."

He laughed, nuzzling against her; "Lyssie Cub already give Rogh best gift ever." He pulled her back to get a look, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth; "Lyssie Cub smile. Best present."

"Soppy ol' beast." She sighed, content as could be, keeping her arms looped around his neck and leaning to rest her head on his shoulder. Her parents, her friends - nothing in her short life had made her feel as wanted and cared for as those around her now.

The instruments seemed to soften as the party came closer to its end. Rogh held her tight, swaying her gently to the tune.

"Lyssie Cub family. Deserve best barf-day." He whispered.

She couldn't help but snicker; "Birth! Not barf. B-bur-thhh."

"Ba...b-birf?" He struggled to correct himself; "Heh. That make more sense."

Even after all this time, she was still teaching him.

Lyssie shook her head against the wolf pelt, almost feeling like she could fall asleep right here, Rogh's paw stroking her loose braids, her adolescent body spent from such joy and activity like none she's had in many years.

"I do love thee, my dear Rogh. To thy 'Moonah' and back." She told him, in case the sweet fool needed reminding.

"Rogh love Lys-bee. Even if she old maid now."

The beast man received a gentle slap for that remark. Bloody cheek.

#robin the caveman #oc: elysabeth #oc: clarence #oc: godric #william the pirate #others ocs #bbc ghosts fanfiction

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