ZERO HOUR +30 MINUTES
She felt...cold.
This wasn't an odd feeling lately. Ever since that massive surge of interference while she'd been checking a few things, she'd been literally
unable to feel the sensation of warmth even as the summer heat outside made ice cubes melt as she watched. The sun's rays simply seemed to slide past her
without touching...or more appropriately, through her.
Her reflection was confusing, for a multitude of reasons. The black bodysuit with small bits of armor more decorative than functional, trailed by a long waist
cape that was currently pooled rather unflatteringly along the sides of her chair as she looked at herself in the mirror. To say she looked paler was a gross
understatement. Her skin was stark white, her hair the same shade, and more than that, her eyes stared back at her, blank white and reflective. And like the
heat in the room, light itself seemed to move through her in odd angles, rendering her translucent...ethereal.
She didn't have to think about what she looked like. She knew. She knew in a way that defied description, even as it denied easy explanation. One moment,
she'd been herself, and now...now she was Ghost Widow. Physically, at least. Mentally....mentally, she was a combination of combating extremes. One half of
her was frightened, no, terrified of the implications of this. Was she dead? Stuck somewhere between life and death? Was she somehow indelibly tainted by the
presence...the essence of what she'd become? The other half...the other half looked at her reflection, looked around at the little trappings of home, of
living, and felt nothing more than ecstatic happiness.
The little things, the socks hanging off the hamper where they'd been tossed, the half eaten microwave dinner off to the side, the handful of assorted
knick-knacks decorating the shelves...these were things normal people had. Sure, her job was hardly the most normal one in the world, but she remembered eating
cereal, drinking a chocolate shake she knew she'd be regretting while looking at her waistline a week later, and generally lounged on the couch watching
cheesy romantic comedies for no other reason than to laugh at the woeful attempts at depicting realistic romantic chemistry. She remembered being the tip of a
spearhead fighting her way through armed men and heavy artillery, sapping life and snapping bone with nothing more than a gesture. She remembers Mu'Rakir
and his misaimed thirst for vengeance against her for the murders she'd committed when newly undead and unbound. She remembers it all, from both sides of
the coin, and realizes that both are almost equally as real
But looking at her reflection, she felt an almost supernatural certainty about what she was going to....needed to do next. Something that the deepest part of
her soul clung to like a rock of shelter in the middle of a hurricane of uncertainty. A fundamental truth that was now at the very core of her being.
***
Kicking back, feet clad in fuzzy slippers as she enjoyed the almost sinful comfort of the bathrobe tied around her recently showered form, Ghost Widow scooped
another bite of triple fudge ripple as the phone finally picked up. "Hey...yeah...Matt? Yeah, yeah it's me. Listen, I just had a bit of a..medical
problem come up, so I'm gonna have to take some unscheduled time off, okay? ....some kind of problems with the servers? Yeah, if you send me the data here,
I can try to do a little work on it when I can....thanks, Matt. Really, you're the best boss ever....no, no, really. Thank you.....right, I will. Seeya
later."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
She felt...cold.
This wasn't an odd feeling lately. Ever since that massive surge of interference while she'd been checking a few things, she'd been literally
unable to feel the sensation of warmth even as the summer heat outside made ice cubes melt as she watched. The sun's rays simply seemed to slide past her
without touching...or more appropriately, through her.
Her reflection was confusing, for a multitude of reasons. The black bodysuit with small bits of armor more decorative than functional, trailed by a long waist
cape that was currently pooled rather unflatteringly along the sides of her chair as she looked at herself in the mirror. To say she looked paler was a gross
understatement. Her skin was stark white, her hair the same shade, and more than that, her eyes stared back at her, blank white and reflective. And like the
heat in the room, light itself seemed to move through her in odd angles, rendering her translucent...ethereal.
She didn't have to think about what she looked like. She knew. She knew in a way that defied description, even as it denied easy explanation. One moment,
she'd been herself, and now...now she was Ghost Widow. Physically, at least. Mentally....mentally, she was a combination of combating extremes. One half of
her was frightened, no, terrified of the implications of this. Was she dead? Stuck somewhere between life and death? Was she somehow indelibly tainted by the
presence...the essence of what she'd become? The other half...the other half looked at her reflection, looked around at the little trappings of home, of
living, and felt nothing more than ecstatic happiness.
The little things, the socks hanging off the hamper where they'd been tossed, the half eaten microwave dinner off to the side, the handful of assorted
knick-knacks decorating the shelves...these were things normal people had. Sure, her job was hardly the most normal one in the world, but she remembered eating
cereal, drinking a chocolate shake she knew she'd be regretting while looking at her waistline a week later, and generally lounged on the couch watching
cheesy romantic comedies for no other reason than to laugh at the woeful attempts at depicting realistic romantic chemistry. She remembered being the tip of a
spearhead fighting her way through armed men and heavy artillery, sapping life and snapping bone with nothing more than a gesture. She remembers Mu'Rakir
and his misaimed thirst for vengeance against her for the murders she'd committed when newly undead and unbound. She remembers it all, from both sides of
the coin, and realizes that both are almost equally as real
But looking at her reflection, she felt an almost supernatural certainty about what she was going to....needed to do next. Something that the deepest part of
her soul clung to like a rock of shelter in the middle of a hurricane of uncertainty. A fundamental truth that was now at the very core of her being.
***
Kicking back, feet clad in fuzzy slippers as she enjoyed the almost sinful comfort of the bathrobe tied around her recently showered form, Ghost Widow scooped
another bite of triple fudge ripple as the phone finally picked up. "Hey...yeah...Matt? Yeah, yeah it's me. Listen, I just had a bit of a..medical
problem come up, so I'm gonna have to take some unscheduled time off, okay? ....some kind of problems with the servers? Yeah, if you send me the data here,
I can try to do a little work on it when I can....thanks, Matt. Really, you're the best boss ever....no, no, really. Thank you.....right, I will. Seeya
later."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."