l i t t l e ghosts -- raisa&nori

Fingers tap at the wooden desk in front of her, black strands of hair tucked behind her ears. It's her job to be the face that represents the lighter side of the Mortuus family, so not even the pain that shoots through her cheeks is enough to make her smile falter. Plastic builds up in her throat, but she's never been afraid of suffocating. There's red on her chin — and who cares if it's cherry candy or blood? 

She beams at the man who walks in, clasping her hands together to stop her nervous habit. Her head tilts in welcoming, lips parting as he asks his question — but then she giggles and purses them, eyes scanning over his features. "I was about to say that you didn't look ill enough to be scheduling an appointment," she starts,  standing up so that he doesn't need to crane his neck to look down at her — but then she winks mischievously; "Though, I guess matters of the heart are a little harder to see than most diseases."

She sighs, stepping out from behind the counter and walking closer to the boy, looking for a distraction from the slowness of the day. "I hate to say it, but I'm not sure where is. He's probably making his rounds on the upper levels, but I'm afraid that I can't permit you access to look for him." She leans in, inhaling for dramatic effect. "We can't have people snooping around, y'know?" 

She takes his hand, cold fingers wrapping around his warm ones, and she's always been a master at comforting damaged things —
"Could I take a message for him?"

---

[ table: rave ]

His hand does not leave hers, so she squeezes tighter. He says he's fine, but there's something that's burrowing its way out of him with hungry teeth, and she can see right through him. He has troubled eyes, smelling like an animal that's reaching the end of its life, but even flowers snake their way through dried bones. She doesn't bother to question him — they both know the truth.

He gives her no message for her brother, only a confession; "I was in a street fight." She furrows her brows in confusion, the corner of her lip pulling downwards. "I need a check up, and I request Nurse Olive."

She chuckles, running her thumb over his knuckles and shaking her head. "I don't mean to be cynical," she starts, keeping her voice soft — "but I don't think the blood on your shirt is yours. And the bruises on your hands? You don't need my brother's help for that."

She keeps her words gentle, consoling the beast before he can start his rampage. "Still, I do believe that you got into a fight, and I don't think that you're okay — so, I guess I'll just have to escort you to Olive and let him take it from here. Are you okay with that?"

She pulls against him, still holding him tight, and she sends a smirk over her shoulder. "Let's have an adventure. Maybe we'll find more than Olive."

---

[ table: rave ]

He submits to her request, an excited squeal slipping past her lips, and she doesn't waste the time needed to dwell on the hesitation that layers his voice. She peers over her shoulder with an encouraging smile, drinking in the conflict that washes across his face, and she finds herself hoping that she'll be able to calm the storm that's brewing within the pit of his stomach. ( Electricity runs though his hair; rain falls down his cheeks. ) There's a forest that's growing in his chest — birds make their home in his ribs and snakes curl through his veins — and she doesn't fault him for the wolf that's howling behind his teeth.

"I promise it'll be fun," she urges him, hand still clinging to his own, and she's thankful for the warmth that he offers her. The hospital is not a safe place for strangers who choose to go wandering on their own, and Raisa knows that Eirlys would be furious if she found out that she was leading a random boy through the halls of the establishment, so she decides to cheat the rule with a cheeky laugh. "What's your name?" she asks with her eyes set on the path ahead of her, gaze shifting from face to face in search of her brother, but the young man trailing behind her is the one that has her complete focus. "I don't bite."

She's always been the flower that pushes through the ash; burnt and damaged — but hopeful. All members of the Mortuus family have a certain kind of fire that's kindled inside of them; some burn themselves, some burn others, and some exhale only a defeated smoke. The loss of Hyacinth still weighs heavily over the hospital, leaving a family in mourning while the whole of Twelve offers their condolences, but Raisa knows the truth. The dead are only gone if you choose for them to be. You can find them if only you know where to look — because loved ones never leave you; they cling to your organs like a parasite that can either kill or save you, and the only person that can define the role of the ghost is yourself. Not all hauntings end with madness.

Peace,
or damnation?
— pain,
or salvation?

"I'm Raisa, by the way."

---

[ table: rave ]