Ghost Story

[Varric]

Varric whirls in place, Bianca's nozzle aimed directly at the speaker's forehead. "Details."

[GamesMaster]

He aims too high; he doesn't know this little girl, and she's smaller than Emma. She can't be older than five or six, her brown hair in pigtails, her eyes big and childish and deep brown. "Help me," she begs. "Please, he's coming, I have to hide."

[Varric]

"Who?" Varric demands flatly. Her eyes. Something about her eyes.

[GamesMaster]

She shakes her head. "The ghost."

[Varric]

"Ghost of who?"

[GamesMaster]

"Don't know." She looks over her shoulder, shuddering. "Please, help me hide!"

[Varric]

His eyes narrow. "Who are you then?" he demands, not willing to agree to that request, not when it could be stretched to be considered permission to possess him.

[GamesMaster]

"Bethie," she whimpers. "Please, he's almost here!" And Varric can feel a presence coming, malevolent and violent and cruel, even if he can't see it yet. 

[Varric]

"Hide how?" Bethie? Isn't-- "You were the daughter-- step-daughter of the late Lord," he suddenly recalls.

[GamesMaster]

"There was a place to hide but I forgot where. I liked to hide there. If you help me find a good place he won't get me. Just until sunrise. Please."

[Varric]

"Hide from... hmm." He studies her for a moment, then digs into his vest before holding out a vial with two fingers. "Drink that." From the feel, a protection from evil infusion should keep her safe from whatever the fuck that is. He carefully don't so much as have a whiff of thought of why he put in the effort of learning how to put that little extra twist of effort into his infusions that allows others to use them.

[GamesMaster]

She reaches for it, but her misty hand goes straight through the vial; she can't grip it. She jumps, then, giving a small shriek as she races forward straight through him (a chill goes down his spine) and vanishes into the cabinets behind him. 

In the hallway, footfalls -- heavy, menacing, partnered with menacing breathing. 

[Varric]

Varric scowls, twisting at the hip to hurl the vial at her back even as his fingers squeeze so it shatters. Turning back, he hefts Bianca and narrows his eyes. "This is my home, my domain. You are not welcome here!" he thunders in Celestial. "No child or innocent shall be your prey or victim, no life or soul your prize! This is my place, under my protection! Face me or depart forevermore!"

[GamesMaster]

He can't see it. But he can feel it. Hot breath on the back of his neck. A menacing glare. And a hunger that twists at the pit of his stomach. This creature, this thing is a predator through and through, and one half-starved. One that hunts a very particular prey. 

"Hurry," Bethie whispers. "Run. I'm with you."

[Varric]

"I don't hide," the dwarf says. No reason. "I won't flee. Hide. Run. Stay al-- safe. I will not allow this," he sneers, spitting out a deeply insulting epithet in draconic, "to pass. If you hunger, then I'm the first-- and last-- course on the menu. Come at me, you spineless, slavering cur of a wretch. Too cowardly to hunt someone that can fight back. Or is it too weak? Perhaps too stupid? Or all of the above? Is that it? No balls, no brains, no brawn? Just empty threat and an icky vibe?" Come on, get pissed. Come out into the open, show your hand.