Week 8; Thursday night; Faize

[princessantly]

[ It's... still something to adjust to, the first time she'd stood in front of the door and raised her hand to knock, and it had gone right through it. Being a ghost isn't a simple matter, and while she's grateful that it means she isn't completely gone from everything, it's also made certain things difficult.

She needs to talk to Faize, as best as she can, she knows that. But first, she needs to know what she can do like this. So the first few days are spent practicing in places where people won't be weirded out by floating pebbles and the like. And still, it doesn't feel as though she's entirely gotten the hang of it, and she's still so exhausted after every effort... but seeing Faize in front of her makeshift grave marker decides her.

So this time, instead of standing anxiously in front of his door and talking herself out of it, out of fear of catching him in a private moment, she walks right through it.

There has to be a way to reach him. ]

Comments

[symbologic]

[Sorry they're all terrible and need babysitting, Alisha. Maybe we'll kill off more of the problem children in the coming weeks, so that the poor ghosts can have some rest. Half rest.]

[Once the star is against his palm, Faize's fingers curl downwards until they're sort of lightly closed around it. Though, it's obvious it's not really the star he's trying to hold. If she lets go of it and it slips between his fingers, he won't really care. The star was merely a guiding point to the thing Faize really wants to hold. The thing that he can't hold, no matter how hard he tries, so he has to settle for perhaps the palest imitation possible. It's hardly a substitute, and he knows it, but even pretending is better than nothing. At least for him.]

Thank you.

[For lots of things, really. He has at least as many things to be thankful for as he does apologetic, as far as Alisha is concerned.]

[princessantly]

[ Maybe one day he'll be able to hold more than a star, or empty space. And maybe it's a foolish thing to pour the rest of her energy into, but seeing Faize's gesture and remembering all too vividly how it had actually felt to wrap her arms around him or press their fingers together or kiss him...

Alisha can't really help it.

There's soft pressure on the undersides of his fingers, as though there really is a hand there for a minute. And then-- gone.

She'll be back. ]