[Mousen]

Stupid merchants, both Jarl and Fahim seemed convinced of the fact that he was going to collapse at any moment. That if they looked at him in such a manner, he might take it upon himself to make his health fail suddenly and he might end up dying on the ship. The worst one, however, was Dendara. The sandy little street rat was actually being nice to him... She hadn't tried to push him over board, tangle him up the nets, hang him or push him of the crows nest in days, something was very wrong. Cole couldn't tell you exactly why they seemed to be convinced that he was about to drop dead, his heath hadn't always been the best of the best, but it shouldn't be of concern now. The only time they'd been this worried was when he'd first been dragged onto the little airship. He'd been as pale as a ghost back then, there'd been such a gauntness about him, it had worried Jarl no end.
"That boy," He used to say in his broken English. "Ees always lookink like... uh... dead. Like corpse! That's it, 'ees always lookink like corpse." Then he'd frown and mutter about the heat. He was from the north, where the Northern lights were often seen. He'd never approved of warm climates, they were unnecessary in his opinion.

There was no gaunt look about Cole now, it had been a few years since he'd first joined the crew of the tiny airship. After a moment's thought he decided they must have been spooked by that fortune teller back in Sa'fir, part of him was decidedly exasperated. Was he really the only one that didn't believe the words of a drunk fortune teller that they found in a grimy bar in the darker end of the coastal town? Besides, Cole was one of those that didn't really hold stock in superstition. If he really wanted to know what his future was going to hold he would have visited one of his sister's. She was a psychic and she made her living through holding fake seances in her living room. If she came back to the world of the living for a moment, and she dropped the ridiculous act she had, she was rather good.

To get away from the nervous glances of his crewmates, Cole had taken it upon himself to find a suitable hiding place for several crates of imports that shouldn't have really been imported. Most of the stuff they ferried around was perfectly legal, some of it was... less legal. Still, Cole Jax Campbell had never been one to let customs regulations get in the way of a perfectly good profit.

He'd only been to Nabias a few times previously, though he could remember his way around fairly well. An apparent tourist or merchant was nothing new, the quiet town often had the odd person passing through it. He went unnoticed for the most part, it was nearing midnight and very few people were about. As he walked to the quieter part of the town his thoughts drifted miles, coming to land in a polluted city far from where he was now. His thoughts flickered from family member to family member, he hoped they were okay. As it was, the place they were wasn't widely regarded as a safe place to live... Despite all appearances, Cole got terribly homesick. It was sweet, in a way, even if he'd never admit to it.

Settled on the edge of a street, windows broken and brickwork battered was a house. A house that was presumable home to nothing but moths, rats and other such creatures. Hopefully there'd be atleast one door with a lock on it, or perhaps a basement. No point hiding something only for it to be stolen from you, while this had never happened to Fahim and Jarl while Cole had been sailing with them, he'd heard the story enough times for him to know what would happen if a repeat incident happened. Inspite of himself, there was something about the house that set his teeth on edge. Perhaps it was the way the floorboards creaked under his weight, or the fact that he was now sporting a small wound from climbing in the window, but something about the place wasn't quite right...

Somewhere along the line, all those ghost stories must have burrowed into his head. Cole sighed to himself, it didn't really matter what he thought of the place, it would just have to do. The young man had always loved acting, or more specifically, he loved fooling people. If he thought he could get away with telling a tragic or dramatic story in place of the truth, he would. If he waited in the abandoned house before running back to the airship looking terrafied, they'd believe whatever yarn he spun for them. He wasn't really a cruel person, but Cole really needed to get back at them for that fortune teller incident. As much as he hated the house, it would be worth a few minutes of sitting in the dust.

(( Eeek, I rambled because I had no idea what to put. XP ))

[Azura Rayume]

Kiara was pacing. Really, no one would have blamed here for doing so; if you had to wait twenty-four hours just to have an hour in your own house, you might start pacing when the time drew close as well. Yes, the mists around her feet would be parting soon, thank all the Gods for that, and she would actually be able to see the floor her feet were planted on. That was the main thing she hated about limbo, not seeing where your feet are, just floating around. She found the whole think rather stupid, really.

The clock in her head ticked away the seconds, and the longer those seconds took to pass, the more cross she became. She wiggled her toes, fidgeted with her hair, and made and overall minor nervous wreck of herself just as she did every night. This is the time when she would start cursing magic and fairies and all manner of things that might have put her in this predicament. This was her typical routine, though, so there was nothing to really worry about from this behavior. She just always got twitchy just before midnight. She would start doing the same thing right before one in the morning, though for opposite reasons. If she hated the wait to get out of limbo this much, she hated going back doubly so.

Finally, she felt it, that ever so slight tingling in her extremities that came with being solid. The wooden floors of her bedroom rose out of the mist to meet her booted feet with a soft, satisfying da-dum. Her emerald hair finally stopped drifting, falling neatly down her back in a cascade of curls. Solidity felt wonderful, even if it was only temporary. Any escape from that prison was enough elation to put her in a good mood.

She turned her golden gaze on the room around her, the only room in her entire house that had been left unchanged by time as far as she could tell. The spring green paint showed no signs of wear; the windows were clean, and even the mirror had escaped tarnish. As her eyes met the ones of her reflection, she sighed. She was still semi-translucent, which annoyed her. The last thing she needed right now was to not be solid. She had spent all of her last reprieve attempting to be normal, but was dragged away not long after she had worked it out at last. Well, not today. She screwed up her face in an almost childish look of concentration, thinking nothing but "solid" thoughts. She managed to make herself mostly normal; she was still a bit fuzzy around the edges of her hair and clothes, but she supposed it would have to do for now.

The creak of floorboards caught her attention, and she frowned. Probably more stupid kids wanting to check out the legend of "The Lady in Green" or whatever it was they were calling here these days. One tends to get rather annoyed with constant break-ins, especially if those break-ins were because people wanted to try and get a look at you. She wouldn't have minded so much if one of those people had had the decency to at least offer to help her out, but they always crept in with flashlights, thinking they were brave ghost hunters or some other strange idea they had gotten into their heads, then ran home screaming the moment they saw her. No help at all.

She crept to the door, pressing it open in just the right way to keep it from squeaking. Slowly, she tiptoed to the railing or the second floor landing of the staircase, peering down through the gloom, and was quite surprised by what she found. Not more annoying children, but a man. A rather handsome man in her opinion, as well, though she was beginning to think that most men were handsome in some respect after being cut off from them for so long. She resisted the urge to giggle at his nervous expression. When was the last time she had had the pleasure of entertaining a nervous guy here? Quite a while as far as she could remember. She was going to make the best of it, and giving herself away right now would ruin all that.

No, she was going to have some fun with this guy. Even if that fun would be more one sided and only last for her allotted hour. This opportunity was making her giddy.

((I am compelled to match your ramble with my ramble. D:<))

[Mousen]

Cole seemed rather lost in thought, he bit his thumbnail absent-mindedly, and there was a faraway look in his eyes. To anyone who knew him well, they'd realize that this was his planning face, anyone who knew him really well would start running before they were caught up in his crazy scheme. At the moment he was trying to work out if he should go with the vengeful widow-type story he was brewing up was too unoriginal, perhaps he should go with the one about the dancer instead... Jarl and Fahim are so gullible, they'd believe any old wives tale, given 'alf a chance. He was smug, despite being in a house he didn't particularly want to be in, and despite being covered in dust, and probably sat next to several hundred spiders, Cole looked like the cat that had got the cream, and the mice. Or atleast he would, it was only a matter of time...

What was that? Cole looked behind him suddenly, it had probably just been a mouse or something. Zu'hai he was getting paranoid. Jarl's ghost stories must be really getting to him, it was only an old house! There was nothing wrong with the place. Cole sighed to himself, amused at how much this place seemed to be bothering him. Even if the house was old and creepy, there was no reason to be turning into a scaredy cat.

Cole was tall-ish, but tall in a lanky runner-bean kind of way, his thin frame made him look slightly younger than he actually was. He had an angular kind of face, with brown eyes that at times verged on  grey-ish. Most of his family had brown eyes, apart from his father and one of his older sisters, who both had green eyes. his hair was a muddy kind of brown, and long enough to tied back, which it was. All in all, Cole Campden looked like the kind of person that girl's mother's despaired over, the 'good for nothing layabout that was even too lazy to have his hair cut' kind of guy.

After a moment or two, he decided that he'd better go look for somewhere to hide the imports. He moved into another room, which had presumably once been a study of sorts. Dated wallpaper aside, it looked like it would suit what he was looking for rather well. Unless you went looking for it, you wouldn't even the room was there in the first place, and the boarded up windows certainly helped. Now, all he had to do was wait a few minutes and act like the place had taken him ages to find, his crewmates really needed to appreciate him more.

((Eeek <3 Sorry for the wait in replying Azura. ^w^))

[Azura Rayume]

Darn it! He had disappeared. Kiara frowned, wondering why he was in her house in the first place if he wasn't going to go looking for where she was supposed to be, that upstairs bedroom. Well, she supposed, there went the idea of surprising him when he turned around to come upstairs. That would have put her in a sulky mood if not for the fact that she had spied the crates. Those hadn't been there yesterday, and the boxes were vague enough to catch her interest.

She crept down the stairs, hopping over the third one from the bottom that always squeaked when someone touched it, and wandered over to the crates. There weren't many, but they were big enough to hide almost anything. She was almost curious enough to peek inside one... Almost. She didn't know what was in them and therefore how the man would react if he walked back in to find either the lid pried open or her with his nose stuck far too deep in his business.

She glanced around, almost frantic to find somewhere to stash herself for the time being. Dash it all, why was this room so sparse? She was almost to the point where she would just make herself invisible just to avoid him seeing her until she wanted him to, but an idea sprang to mind: why not just confront him?

Oh, yes... That would be quite fun indeed. There was a large, high backed arm chair already facing the direction of both the crates and the door where the man had disappeared. She strode to it, draping herself casually across the red upholstery, legs over one arm and lounging. Oh, yes, she though as she crossed her arms over her chest, this was going to be fun. She just couldn't wait to see his face!

[Mousen]

Inside the study, Cole hadn't found much. Unless you counted an old mouse nest, and several rusty traps as anything. His thoughts drifted back to his siblings, and then back towards whatever ghost story he was going to weave the crew when he got back, and then how he was going to scare them silly when they actually unloaded the main part of the shipment into here. Infact, he was so wrapped up with his plan, he walked right past the chair in which Kiari was sat!

"Well, I'm sure there's some creaking floorboards around here... Perhaps I could weight one or something..." He muttered, walking past the chair another time on his way into another room. Once he got in there, he turned around and paused, looking slightly puzzled. What had it been that he'd caught out of the corner of his eye? When he walked back into the room, and back toward the chair he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Oh bloody hell!! Zu'hai!" Cole yelled, jumping about a foot backwards. "Oh, Charity wept, why is there a ghost sat in the chair, seriously? Haven't I been tortured enough?" He seemed to ask the ceiling. "Did Deirdre send you? Deirdre Campbell?" Cole turned and asked the ghost loudly, as if it might be hard of hearing. "Can you even talk? I've seen ghosts before and they just seemed to wail, then again, Lance was singing Christmas carols, so it might have been a reaction to his singing... Or just the way he looks, he didn't get the good looks of the family, I'll tell you that much." One had to wonder if the young man ever shut up, because once he got started he did seem to start rambling.

Why did these things always happen to him?