the-gentleman-ghost-blog

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“I highly doubt you were doing nothing. You messed with that cup there. Your arm vanished just a moment ago.” Thoughts of the handcuffs had disappeared in his distraction, shoved to the corner of his mind as he struggled to process with what he had just seen. Winston possessed limited knowledge on other super natural creatures in the world, but he was confident that only ghost could vanish at will like that. A delicate wrinkle of his nose indicated his distaste for the implication behind his handcuffs, a head shake and a small frown following soon after to further advance his negation of her assumption. “Nothing of the sort had occurred. I was merely practicing for my act.”

The sound of the crashing cup briefly held Blair’s attention and she turned her head towards it to observe her work. By the time her eyes focused she heard the voice of another and turned quickly. The limb became visible at the same moment and retracted back into her lap quickly. “Me? Nothing. You?” She eyed the handcuffs and raised her eyebrows. “You look more like you belong in some…Fetish factory, not wandering. Did the safe word not work?”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“Oh, the working class.” That had been a sensitive subject for Winston, mainly during the times of his human life. It had been general knowledge that a class of that sort was below those like Winston, a belief that he had carried with him. But after his death, after he had spent all those centuries wandering this Earth, and even after meeting and watching Charlie grow, that was a belief that had been dashed against the rocks time and time again. Nothing remained of it but scraps here and there, only leaving a faint impression. “I never had the chance to interact personally with the working class in those days. But I would never dream of putting too much stress on a woman, especially a dead one at that.” If the words were not enough to enlighten Winston of Dorian’s dislike of the noble class, than his bow was more than enough to emphasize that point. “I hardly think your life will be any the worse for knowing just one nobleman in the Cirque.”

Bloody Doors

Dorian only nodded his head slowly, raising an eyebrow with the mention of the colonies, the term used only once in front of him while the American Revolution was calling for British troops. “I’d assume so, since you were shipped to the colonies at a young age. I was of technical working class at that time, those of middle and upper classes didn’t happen upon my friends list.” Honestly, Dorian was unsure if he’d ever seen the man. Seeing someone was far different to meeting someone. “Whatever catches your fancy. All I ask is you don’t stress her for information or tips, I would think she’s been through enough, having someone hassle her would be the cheery atop the cake.” Once more, Dorian couldn’t fight back the sigh, and instead reached within his pocket to pull out a cigarette, along with a lighter. He was sure he’d need the distraction. “Brilliant, a nobleman. And here I thought I’d spend my time avoiding those during my time in the Cirque. The pleasure is all mine, Winston Cartsworth VII.” To further exaggerate his previous disdain towards nobles, he falsely bowed as he placed the cigarette between his lips, lighting the cancer-stick shortly afterwards.

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“Fire, gas, pan. Nothing more than excuses to brush off the matter of inferior food.” The words were delivered carelessly, Winston more than willing to drop the subject since they were going out now. With a swift adjustment of his overcoat, he would follow Charlie out of the caravan, carefully locking the door behind the both of them and continuing on after Charlie. “Bloody Mary’s? How barbaric. I suppose their food must be appetizing with a name like that.”

Bloody Doors

“Yes, it would have because of the fire and gas used to help heat the pan.” He said, taking a deep breath to calm himself so Winston wouldn’t see how irritated he was. He was grateful that his friend was tangible, but these were times that he wondered if Winston did things like this in order to get his way despite his visibility. Grabbing his coat after cleaning off his face, he slipped it on and headed out the door. “C’mon, Winston. I could use some actual meat that isn’t a charcoal briquette. I heard this place called Bloody Mary’s is pretty good. They have pork ribs.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

He hummed once, believing a verbal comment to that would be wasted. What more was there to say about his previous statement, really, that wasn’t an unnecessary apology? “Are you really? I was only in London for my younger years before I was sent over to the colonies to help keep order in Massachusetts. I think I would look somewhat like I am now, though younger and not quite as pale.” If there had been any encounters between them from their time in London, it was most likely purely on Dorian’s part. The man had been a complete stranger when he had first seen him in the Cirque. “If she has been tangible for longer than I have, I will consider her a professional since that is what she would be compared to my own novice skills. Unless I surpass her in that skill, but that is only for time to tell.” A careless shrugged lifted his shoulders at his comment, once more only stating a possible truth instead of being purposefully insulting. “I believe two out of three of those assumptions would be true. I have never been egotistical in my entire life. Despite the assumptions, it is my pleasure to meet you, Dorian Ackerman.”

Bloody Doors

Again, as per usual, his eyes narrowed as he finally pulled his eyes away from the ghost, to look around at their surroundings. “Just slightly.” Dorian didn’t expect an apology, nor did he want one, apologies were nothing but empty words for the most part, and he’d rather distance himself from such. “I happen to be old enough to have possibly known you when you were alive, I’d say. If we had met while you were alive and wandering London, I’d recognize you.” There was a certain truth in his words, though Dorian’s low-profile in England would have steered him clear from those of noble status, regardless. “Professional? She’s still learning herself in some ways, as she told me. If I recall correctly, you don’t stop learning about your species. Hm, you’re either a nobleman, egotistical, or you’re simply of a higher class, with that name. Dorian Ackerman, the first of his name.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“Yes, inferior. If it was a quality piece, I hardly doubt it would have caught fire so quickly.” The magazine was tossed onto the couch, though he picked it back up again as he let Charlie deal with the smoking pan. “I barely took my eyes from the food, Charles. You really are becoming Hungarian now. But come along, let’s go. See, if we had stuck with my original idea of going out, there would have been no fire whatsoever.” He tucked the magazine away, saving the article he was reading for later perusal. “Don’t fret, we’ll stay away from seafood.”

Bloody Doors

“An inferior piece of meat? Really?!” He retorted, grabbing the magazine and shaking it before tossing it gently to the couch. “When you cook shit like that, you focus on it so it doesn’t burn, let alone catch fire!” Charlie sighed heavily and tossed the pan into the sink with a wince of pain. “Alright, fine. Let’s go into town before you burn down our home. Okay?”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

Silence remained once more, Winston looking to him as he processed his words. “I suppose that was too harsh of me.” Admittance of his mistake might be the closest Winston would be able to utter an apology to someone he didn’t personally know, even if he was obviously from the same home land as Winston. “I think it would be hard for you to recognize me at all seeing as how I’ve only just now regained a tangible form.” The words were not rude, only a mere attempt to draw his attention to the truth. “I’m sure I will be talking with her before long. Your basic advice is well and good, but I will eventually need the assistance of a professional with this matter. But I believe for now, introductions are in order. My name is Winston Cartsworth VII and you are...?”

Bloody Doors

“And you can’t blame a man for offering the best advice he can give to aid someone through trying times.” The counter was given with little thought, and soon he took to nodding his head. “A soul manipulator.” The repeat was offered, thinking little of the thought processes the ghost may have been pondering over. That was, until a connection was made and the idea of a stranger knowing him was put into view. Perhaps Dorian had overlooked something, or maybe he was just forgetting finer details. “And yet I can’t find myself knowing you.” A tilt of the head came next as he took a moment to think, though he still couldn’t conjure up any thought to recognizing the man. “You’ll have to fade out sooner or later, I am sure if you spoke to Blair about the subject, she could tell you of her experiences. But, if you’re reluctant for the time being, fading out slightly every-so-often is something I would recommend.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

White Stripes - Little Ghost (Lyrics)

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

The fire had been a surprise to him, shock rooting him in one spot as Charlie yelled and doused the fire. It hadn’t seemed to him that cooking would be a difficult task, his stubbornness leading him to believe that some other matter had interfered with his cooking. “That was obviously an inferior piece of meat. It was only a matter of time before the whole thing went up in flames.”

Bloody Doors

God dammit, Charlie really didn’t want Winston to cook. The man had been an Aristocrat his entire human life so there was no reason for him to learn to cook. Charlie’s thoughts on the matter were confirmed when he said that all one had to do was boil water and add a few things in order to make dinner. He didn’t say anything, but he did pick up a dish towel just in case he needed to clean up a mess.

 — Time Jump —

Flames flickered over the pan as Charlie rushed with a bottle of water in order to put out the fire. “Jesus!” He screamed, knowing Winston had tried hard not to burn the piece of meat in the pan but it seemed to have happened anyway.

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“You can’t blame a gentleman for wanting credentials when it comes to serious matters in one’s life.” A flicker of interest passed through his gaze, his mind registering the term soul manipulator. “A soul manipulator?” Was this the same man Charlie had mentioned awhile back? He had only been paying attention with half an ear, so Winston was completely sure of what he had been told. But the longer Winston concentrated with his full attention, he was beginning to make connections. “I know you, or I’ve at least heard of you.” His posture shifted, hands flexing unconsciously as his fingers tugged at the edge of his sleeves. The small, simple action brought an unconscious smile to him, tugging up at the corner of his lips gently. He had missed the simple pleasures in his life, being able to actually touch and feel things. “I’m reluctant to fully return to invisibility, so if her method of fading slightly is effective, I might have to try it for myself.”

Bloody Doors

“I’ve been around a ghost for nearly eight months, and I’m a soul manipulator. I think my warnings come as justified.” For a brief moment, Dorian had taken to narrowing his eyes towards the stranger, tensing his jaw. Thought he moment was fleeting as he forced himself to calm once more. “She fades out all of the time, especially when we’re alone. It aids with her staying somewhat tangible for an extended amount of time. The more she fades out, the longer she lasts before she fades out entirely.” He couldn’t help the sigh that followed his words, he wasn’t one to give advice or help those he didn’t know, but a ghost was a ghost for a reason, and respect was needed to aid them through their lack of life.

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“There’s no need to waste away the evening by resting. I’ll rest later.” The words were added on, as if by afterthought, an acknowledgement of Charlie’s concern over him. No one had been able to see him since his human life, to be able to show care and concern over him; except for Charlie. Winston was in debt to the shorter human because of it, something he would always repay without resentment. “What nonsense. Of course I can cook. It doesn’t look very hard at all. You just boil some water, add a few things in, supper is made. Here, I’ll show you.” No more words were wasted on the matter, Winston simply stepping past Charlie into the kitchenette, pulling out pots and pans as he did so.

Bloody Doors

He could tell that Winston was getting tired, the snappish tone and his obvious lack of control of his anger just gave it all away. “I’ll drop it if you actually rest. You may not need sleep, but you need to rest to keep using it.” He explained, his eyes looking over his friend as he gave a soft smile. Winston was kind enough to drop the subject, rather glad that he gave into it. Charlie was always glad to not be reminded of home. He didn’t get homesick, no. It was more of the fact that he was mistreated back in Salem all because of what he was. “You can’t cook, Winston. But, if you feel you want to, we can give it a shot now. I can make spaghetti, just no meatballs.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“It’s easy enough for a person who has his body still to warn others to not force it.” Silence ensued, something not strained or tense, only full of thought and feeling. Reluctant to share his personal information, he still felt a sense of gratitude for the stranger’s help. Though he was allegedly dating another ghost, it didn’t put the stranger in any position to help others like his girlfriend. “That helps? Fading out slightly? Have you seen your girlfriend doing that?” He wanted to believe the helpful words, but was cautious of taking any advice for now.

Bloody Doors

Try as he might to push people away, since he got close to one ghost, he didn’t see badness in any of them. And so the words that came from the other were only met with a blank stare, so action nor emotion meeting it. The expression changed with the idea of the ghost becoming exhausted faster, and he was quick to shake his head. “Don’t force your tangibility upon yourself, otherwise a consequence will follow. Rest when you can, allow yourself those precious moments of invisibility to regain your strength and energy. Even if you fade out just slightly, it takes the pressure off of you.” The explanation came with an air of care, and he couldn’t help but cross his arms over his chest as a result of it.

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“It’s hardly English to begin with.” His mood was turning sour, a byproduct of his growing exhaustion. He was over-exerting himself right now, he could feel it, but he was unwilling to leave his tangible form to rest. “That was one incident and I already feel highly mortified about it. There’s hardly a need for you to constantly bring it up.” His sour mood was the cause of his snappish tone, though his words might have been uttered in a calmer tone if Sinclair had been the one speaking to him. “Oh, fine, then. No seafood. And no preservatives, either. I don’t know how it got into your head that I couldn’t cook, but I can. It doesn’t seem so complicated, really.”

Bloody Doors

“It’s not English you’re used to.” He said with a shrug as he smiled at Winston. He could tell that his long-time friend was happy to have the can in his hand and not fall through it. “You do know that you don’t have to ectoplasm on Sinclair to let him know you find him attractive, right? Have you tried that, yet?” Though, as Winston brought up going into town, he shook his head with a soft sigh. “It’s mostly tropical or seafood here. Seafood reminds me of home so I kinda not want any of that. I want the preservatives…that and, well, neither of us can cook.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

There hadn’t been a point in his life, in the most recent years at least, that Winston had concentrated more on something he was being told than just now. “Concentration, yes. I’ve already guessed as much.” If his words came out badly, he didn’t mean it. Absorbed in the information he was being given, his manner was distracted and he fell back onto his natural pompous manner of speaking. “I have only been tangible for a week. Just the other day, I passed out from exhaustion, I think.” The fact that he had been terrified of never becoming tangible again was a piece of information he kept to himself.

Bloody Doors

“I do.” He finalized the idea with a firm nod of the head, taking to listening to the ghost as he recollected everything he already knew about the one he was most accustomed to. “Well, she needs to rest after being visible for such a long time due to overuse of energy. If you spoke to her about application of energy, I’m sure she’d be a far better source. My basic knowledge of it is that it takes a lot out of her after a while, though I do know it’s the focus of energy to become tangible, and the lack of concentration enables you to revert back to your ghosty form.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“You date one?” The man’s earlier words were forgotten as Winston latched onto the information he found the most useful to him in that moment. “She has told you about the energy bit before, has she? I’ve only just been able to become visible again after so many years. I am still trying to learn.”

Bloody Doors

“Assumptions come easily when a ghost holds a very particular appearance, looking like death usually points to something specific, so perhaps you should avoid coming across those who are aware of what a ghost looks like if you want to avoid assumptions. I happen to date one, and surprisingly enough, she finds it far easier to be invisible, than visible. It’s the focus of energy, as I’ve been told.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

Metal gleamed around his wrists, the lights around the Cirque shining off the cuffs Winston had been using during his practice early that evening. He had been able to get out of them earlier, but the attempt was proving almost impossible his second try. His control over becoming invisible and then visible again was shaky, weak, and largely out of his control. So to be  safe, he had been educating himself on the actual techniques of escaping. Frustrated, a huffy sigh escaping from him, he looked about him as if that would help him solve his handcuff problem. His attention was diverted when he saw a girl sitting at a table, looking normal besides the fact that her hand was missing. “What are you doing there?”

With her shift for the evening just about over, Blair had seated herself at one of the tables set up for the most recent meal at the Cirque. Some tableware had still been left out and a thought struck her as she saw a cup. Slowly she faded out from view and became less tangible, focused on both the task at hand and remaining silent as an invisible hand stretched out in one of the few attempts she had made to manipulate a still physical object.

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“Yes, I am a ghost. But I would strongly advise you to refrain from making too many assumptions. They tend to make one look like an ass usually. And yes, that is normally a main attribute. For a ghost who has had enough practice in doing so.”

Bloody Doors

“I’m going to assume you’re a ghost, correct? I’m almost certain the main attribute of a ghost, is they can, in fact, poof out of thin air. Amazing, I know. Doors no longer have to be a fundamental problem.”

[the-gentleman-ghost-blog]

“Hangry? How beastly. Modern English isn’t evolving; it’s devolving.” The solid weight of the can in his hand distracted Winston from the conversation, engrossed in heavy feel of it in his grasp. The ability to hold objects had been something he had possessed while invisible, the experience was vastly different now that he was solid. “Why do you insist on eating canned food? You don’t have to be Cole to go out into the town and order food.”

Bloody Doors

“Oh! You mean hangry? That is me.” Laughing softly, Charlie kept opening the can before placing the can into Winston’s hand. “It tastes good, not as good as fresh, but I can’t just get fresh food out of thin air. I’m not Cole. I mean, if I were, I’d also be taller and eating a meatloaf the size of my head.”