Graveyard Shift

February 27, 2018:

Elinor comes across an unusual specter in her otherwise typical graveyard visitations.

A cemetery in Gotham City


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

The Cemeteries in Gotham have a uniqueness all of their own. It's not often that Elinor comes out this way, but ghosts are always in need to help and she does her best to lend her ear to anyone who needs it. It's well passed midnight when she slips into the cemetery. She's dressed all in black, with a long coat over her shoulders and tall boots that don't make a sound as she walks over the cobbled pathways. The shadows cling to her as she passes them by, reaching out to wrap themselves around her, and only letting go when she passes. Despite the darkness coiling around her, she has a pleasant look on her face. She nods to a few ghosts as she passes them by, saying the names of those she knows as she passes them by. There are a few ghosts that follow her. Two women, one who looks like she froze in the nineties and the other a well dressed posh looking woman.

Far from home, and yet there are places here enough that have that nostalgic feel to it. Gotham is an old city, sure enough, and as rotten and corrupted as it is, there are structures and locations that have been preserved, integrated with the new. It's a place of those that don't let go.

There's no real reason for him to be here, but some might say that graveyards are where the 'walls' between here and forever are the thinnest, and here that the forgotten can linger.

Except him.

Mounted upon the saddled back of an equally ghostly horse, a figure sits, dressed completely in white from the tophat upon his head to the cloak and the Victorianesque suit and shoes on his feet. They stand atop the crest of the gradual slope of a hill, the rider looking outwards at the rest of the graveyard proper.

It's either the link between worlds being thin in a cemetery, or the fact that most of the souls seem to linger toward their bodies. Some are even tethered to them. However it appears that the man up on the hill riding a horse obviously isn't. It's rare that she sees an animal ghost like this, and the sight of it interests her. So she waves to the near by ghost she was talking to and walks toward the hill.

She's careful as she approaches, she can tell by his attire that he's old, and been long for quite some time. It's hard hard to tell how the older ghosts will react to her. Still she stays several yard away and folds her hands behind her back. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

The horse lifts its head, snorting a brief jet of blue-white fire. Even the movement of its mane and tail resemble flickering flames. A gloved hand reaches out to pat the horse's neck fondly. "Easy there, Bess," the Gentleman Ghost says, turning in his saddle then to look over at the woman who's approached them.

There's no face of his own to be seen, but a monocle hanging before where his right eye might be. His hat floats atop seemingly nothing over the collar of his coat and cloak, and he picks the hat off his unseen head by its brim to lift in polite gesture before resettling it. "As lovely a night as can be. But now here's an odd sight t'be sure. I thought visitations for th' living were more preferable in th' daylight hours."

"She must be very loyal." Elinor says looking at the horse the man is riding. "To follow you after death must mean that Bess was well taken care of in life." As she gets closer, she notices that his face isn't really a face. It's interesting, it's not the first time she's seen a missing part on a ghost, but the face missing where everything else is crisp is different. "Though I have seen a few loyal dogs linger around their owners."

"Most of the fun people don't come out in the day time. Also I burn easily in the sun." Elinor appears to be as pale as a ghost, so that's likely a true statement. "Though it's much quieter here when it isn't daylight, one can actually hear themselves think."


The Ghost regards her thoughtfully as he gives Bess another pat, the horse seeming to settle enough to lower its head again, pawing a hoof idly at the grass despite the blades remaining untouched. "One does meet most unusual people in this city. A welcome change, t'be sure." It's almost like being treated as one of the living, and when one's been cursed to restlessly roam even after death, perhaps as good as one can expect outside of being fully revived.

"Heh, 'fun' people, eh? Ye're most unusual, ma'am. Here now, who've I th' pleasure of speakin' to?"

"I don't think there is anything usual about this city. It keeps you on your toes that's for sure. However I'm just visiting, I had a few photography jobs out this way and decided to see the sights afterwards." Elinor gestures toward the satchel she has over her shoulder. "Unusual is the nice way of describing me." When he asks for her name she bows her head. "Elinor Ravensdale." She responds with a smile. "I shepherd the dead, at least those who wish to be shepherded." She carefully approaches the horse and holds her hand up. "May I?"

Despite his lack of a face, there seems a curious air to him as he continues to watch her. The horse continues to do so as well, albeit more warily than its master.

"'tis a pleasure, Miss Ravensdale," the Ghost replies, touching his hat again. "Gentleman Jim Craddock. So, a shepherd o' the dead, eh? Not something I've heard of b'fore. There's something to ye, Miss Ravensdale. Not many e'en acknowledge those who've passed. Ye see them as plainly as m'self?"

As she holds her hand up towards Bess, the horse tenses, but Craddock gently shushes the ghostly creature with a reassuring pat before nodding at the woman.

Elinor's touch is careful on the horse's muzzle, but she does make contact with it. She keeps her pets quick, and short, mostly to prove her point, but she also doesn't want to scare the ghost steed. "Likewise Mr. Craddock." She laughs before she nods. "Probably because it is a title I gave myself, and I have yet to meet someone else who has magic like I do." She takes a step back and folds her hands behind her back again, giving the both of them some space. "As easily as I can see the living, which can get very confusing in a crowd. I help who I can, and banish those who misbehave. Thankfully asking nicely to stop usually works." She smirks.

Bess snorts lightly, but doesn't jerk away from the woman although ghostly muscles quiver. Craddock continues to watch, amused, intrigued, even. When Elinor removes her hand, the horse shakes out its mane, shifting where it stands.

"Magic? Is that what grants ye such abilities? I confess, I'm no expert t'such mysteries. Indeed, times've been much simpler. This be hardly th' world I knew, but for all that's changed, so much remains the same."

He chuckles a little at Elinor's claims. "'tis amazing what words may offer o'er bein' shot at. I must wonder, what do ye account as misbehavior?"

Elinor doesn't want to overwhelm the horse, so she's happy that the touch was tolerated. "There has always been magical talent in my family, however it manifests differently with each member. I got the ghost powers." She says in an amused tone as she tugs her jacket closer around her. "I have heard that a lot over the years. The differences between your world and ours. If I may ask, how long ago did you die?" Some ghosts are sensitive about it, so she's always careful when asking that question.

"I prefer not being shot at myself." After all she's still a squishy human and bullets are painful. "For me, when a ghost starts to harm the living, or trying to harm other ghosts, that's what I consider misbehavior."

Craddock isn't familiar with the workings of magic. Perhaps the closest thing he'd come to witnessing it was with the old gypsy queen, who foretold the grim course of his future and the curse to spur him beyond the grave. He couldn't say for sure.

The Ghost turns his head back out towards the overlook. "…the exact date is lost upon me. Was but a child when King George was in his madness," he says, his thoughts drifting back to the days when he was flesh and blood.

Elinor's definition of misbehavior has him snort a little in amusement. "Fair enough." He's for one never harmed any of the no longer living. Of the breathing, he never did so without reason, although his reasons were admittedly of the criminal intent.

Elinor does a bit of mental calculation and nods her head. "That matches your clothing, so yes things are very different now. It had to be interesting to deal with the fact that your Monarch had lost his mind. I was always curious as to what he suffered. So few here actually were there at the time so I have yet to figure it out."

Elinor nods her head as she looks at her watch. "I should get back to my hotel room. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Craddock." She does offer her hand to him in case he would like to shake it.

"Concerned me little enough. I had enough to concern m'self with o'er a man so distant I knew only by name." Craddock shrugs. The king's state of mind made little difference when the rich remained rich and the poor, poor. Unfortunately Elinor won't get any more answers in that regard it seems, given Craddock's disinterest.

He turns around again as she says she must go, and at the hand offered, the Ghost hesitates before reaching out to take it and shake, his gloved touch cold.

"Likewise, Miss Ravensale. It's been all too long, having conversation as this." He means that, and he's mildly surprised he does. He doffs his hat again, reaching then for his horse's reins.

"Have a good evening, Miss Ravensdale. Perhaps we'll meet again."

Elinor reaches up and shakes his hand. Even through his gloves he can feel the heat from her hand. If she notices the chill from his hand she doesn't show it. "If you're ever in New York, ask any ghost there and they'll point you in my direction." She's made friends with a fair amount of ghosts there. "Perhaps when I have more time we can converse further." She reaches up once more to touch Bess' mane before she steps away. "Enjoy your evening as well Mr. Craddock."

Elinor turns and walks back the way that she came. As she gets further away, darkness pools around her and she disappears from sight.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License