nightlogs | talking to ghosts

Entry tags:

talking to ghosts

Who: Miggy & You??
What: Miguel stays behind to do dead honoring activities
Where: the Pole to start
When: Late October, Early November (Day of the Dead time)
Warnings/Notes: themes of mourning, though it can be lighthearted also

Miguel would be reluctantly absent during the action around Halloween. A strange enough decision, given his first instinct would be to throw himself into the fray as a distraction.

But as of late, he couldn’t hide that something was eating at him. The gloomy spell over his mood seemed more intense than months prior, burning away his patience and making short tempered remarks and the flashing of fangs more easy to let slip. He'd done okay keeping things somewhat under lock, but it was clear now something was definitely wrong.

And so, after some tense, but persuasive conversation just convincing enough to accept staying behind, Miguel finds himself idle on a quieter and lonelier Pole for a few days.

((prompts incoming - brackets or prose are fine))

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“A day for celebrating and remembering, among other things.”

Mourning. Feasting. Enjoying the company of the living and reflection of the lives of the dead. There were a lot of ways to do it. His did not involve much of a party.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Miguel makes for a substantial obstacle with merely his size, but he won’t stop Boba from going around him to look.

When Miguel doesn't make any move to stop him, Boba moves around him. The flowers are pretty. Orange, white, and purple: lust for life, clean state, and... he doesn't know what purple means. Maybe it's reliability, like blue? Red is honoring a parent, maybe it's a different kind of honoring.

His brow furrows at the question. "Ghosts?"

His instinct to to say no, but it's a big galaxy. He thinks about the stories his dad would tell him-- about the kings that live in the stars. He thinks about the book filled with his father's voice-- about the millions of clones that wear his father's face.

Boba shrugs. "I don't know. I've never seen one."

Miguel makes room so he's not looming over the kid while he takes a peep. The marigolds were the main feature, fiery orange save for the faint glow of a bone-white version of the flower. Most were on a ring made of wire. The water, candy, figures and candles were arranged neatly by the center of the circle.

"Back home, you would celebrate these days because your family is supposed to visit you from the afterlife."

Whatever afterlife was waiting was waiting for them all.

"The scent of the flowers lead them back to you, so the story goes. So you leave them things they enjoyed in life."

Despite his encounter off of the Pole, it seemed like Miguel was doing it more for emotional reasons than being a true believer. Still, going through the motions of making things for someone he cared about quite deeply... did alleviate something inside.

"Oh." Does that mean Miguel believes in ghosts? He hovers a hand over the marigolds, wanting to touch but knowing it's probably not okay. He hasn't seen a lot of flowers. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed the sheer amount of color in the worlds outside of Kamino.

"Dead people don't come back," he says with confidence. "They're just dead."

If they did come back, Jango would have already because he always came back.

Boba turns back to Miguel. "Who's it for?"

Edited 2023-11-18 07:01 (UTC)

The answer wasn't entirely unexpected. The kid didn't really seem like the type to believe in ghost stories. So he answers the question instead.

"Her name was Gabriella."

The decision to step in for her lent itself to a messy knot of guilt and other feelings left unsaid. Especially with how catastrophically he failed. Still, he looks on with a distant fondness for someone he would could only consider as a daughter.

"I took care of her after she lost her father."

Boba looks away when Miguel says Gabriella was orphaned.

And now she's dead. But her favorite things are here because Miguel remembers them-- remembers her.

He bites his lip.

"I have-- I've never done anything like this," he gestures to the ceremony. "But I do, um, remembrances? In the mornings?"

He and his dad always did them for his dad's family, and Boba's added a few names of his own since then.

"There's no ceremony or anything. But it's-- yeah."

He doesn't know how to talk about this. In prison, he learned to do them silently. No one liked to wake up to him muttering to himself.

"Ceremony may be a little too rigid." he adds, correcting himself. "It's done a little differently depending on the person."

Miguel was also unused to doing these sorts of things. Processing emotions wasn't really a thing when the option to run away was there - be it through work or something else. But he listens to Boba intently, and feels the urge to want to help him.

"Do you want to try making something for them?" he asks, continuing the thought. Maybe it'll be a little less somber when it's two of them sharing, instead of one.

Boba thinks about it for a moment. They all came here because of belief or whatever, so maybe if he focuses...

"Yeah. Okay," Boba nods. He looks back at all the things set out for Gabriella, then back at Miguel.

"What do I do?"

"Well..."

He scratches his head in a way that was more awkward than his usual deliberate manner, pondering where to begin. The kid's universe was very different from his own.

"You start by gathering things that they would like. Anything you remember that they enjoyed. It could be food or a game, maybe an animal."

Miguel felt a little eureka moment when he found the milk chocolate soccer balls. Combining two favorites in one! Mostly, though, it was a task that was very bittersweet.

"I have more flower petals and candles if you want to use them."

Boba has to think about it. Jango Fett didn't really like things. He liked bounty hunting, he liked his pet eel, his ship, watching Get'shuk games...

He liked Zam and Boba.

"What color of flowers do you have?" he definitely needs red; gold and green would be good too. Blue, like his helmet.

Boba stole a figure from the workshop. He keeps it under his pillow. That would be good to use.

He wishes he had his dad's WESTARs, or one of the ship models he would give to Boba after he had been off-planet for a long time. One of their fishing spears, or the rollerfish spine he put up on the wall. It had been Boba's first catch on his own. He said he was proud.

"And do you have any spicy candy? Really spicy?"

Edited 2023-12-01 04:50 (UTC)

"There may be chili candy in some of the bags. It's a type of pepper, if you have those in your world."

Yes, he vaguely remembers ruffling around through some in the mixed grab bags. Gabri had more of a sweet tooth than a craving for spicy things, so they were left aside. The food he kept in his quarters (hiding them like Loki suggested seemed to be enough to keep curious elves at bay) but some of the wire and other things he left in the workshop. They may require a trip at some point.

He gets up to open the locked drawer of the main dresser and take out what was left of the candy haul. The plastic bags are set on a small wooden table for Boba to look through.

"Here's one." he adds, picking out a sample candy of the Spicy Mango variety.

"As for the flowers, the marigolds come in mostly warmer colors. The other types are more purple and white."

Edited 2023-12-01 05:44 (UTC)

Boba takes the candy and pops it in his mouth. It's only kind of spicy, but good anyway.

"That works," he says around the candy and starts digging through the bag for all of the spicy candy he can find, the spicier the better.

"Do you have red flowers? And gold ones?"

After a few minutes he'll turn back to Miguel, his pockets filled with sweets.

"Can we set it up in my room?"

It would be-- nice. To have.

Edited 2023-12-02 03:07 (UTC)

Well, the tepid approval was still approval. It was nice to see him enjoy things. Lucky was way too dour for someone his age. Miguel's expression softens into something like a warm contentedness while watching him dig around to find the preferred sweets and stuffing his pockets with it.

"Gold and orange, yes. We'll have better luck finding some of the Pole's plants for Red if we look around. Not exactly traditional, but..."

If Lucky's person would like it, then it fits well enough. He gives his own display a glance, internally debating if his ghost vigil had lasted long enough. He can be forgiven for giving the living kid in the room a little attention. Just for a while.

"...Yeah. Let's go."

Edited 2023-12-02 05:04 (UTC)

"I need red," Boba says firmly. He's not willing to negotiate, red is the most important color to have.

He starts to leave, but-- "Are there any candles left?"

Mandalorians burn their dead. Boba didn't have the chance to do that on Geonosis, all he could do was dig a grave marked "J F" with scrap, but maybe he can do something better here.

After he's able to grab candles, if there are any, Boba will start leading the way to the room he's been staying in. There's a dresser he can start setting things up on. Having seen Miguel's, he's already beginning to plan out the shrine in his head.

"We'll get something red." Miguel assures him, seeing no harm in it. Surely, there'd be some kind of red flower around that they could use.

The candles wouldn't be a problem. He overprepared a bit in making his own display, so there was the extra candy, extra candles, and a few other extra things left in the room. A box with some spare wax ones plus the appropriate bases will be carted along in the crook of his arm during their walk down to the kid's place.

The clasps click open and he hands them over for Lucky to start to arrange the things how he preferred. He seems satisfied to be the silent observer here, letting the kid take charge in how he wanted to put things together. Making a mental note of the differences or similarities with his own.

Felt a little odd to be invited in, remembering how they first met. But he'll accept it as a positive development.

Boba puts the box on top of his bed-- neatly made-- and goes to grab a blanket from a cedar chest against the wall. It takes him a moment to find a blue one, but when he pulls it out he starts to unfold it, then pauses.

There were layers on Miguel's altar. Maybe he should do something like that? He sets the blanket aside and closes the chest.

Acting like Miguel isn't even in the room, with a concentrated furrow in his brow, Boba goes to the closet and grabs some empty plastic storage boxes to places on top of the chest. Then he finishes unfolding the blanket and lays it on top. He makes sure to tuck it in the back so it won't slip off.

Then he goes back to the candles. He puts a near each corner to help the blanket stay in place, then on the corners of the storage boxes, then a few lined up to frame the empty space in the center.

Boba moves back to the bed, glancing at Miguel for the first time since they've entered the room. He looks nervous, almost bites his lip but stops himself, and shoves a hand in between the mattress and box spring.

One by one, he pulls out three knives. One clearly from the kitchen, one a wood carving knife from the workshop, and a concerning-ly well-made shiv made from metal scrap from the workshop with the "handle" wrapped in electrical tape.

Boba now has a stubborn set to his jaw and refuses to look at Miguel as he thoughtfully arranges them on the lowest tier.

Edited 2023-12-03 09:11 (UTC)

Miguel doesn’t look happy about it, but he’s not particularly surprised. If the kid was really dead set on having a knife on him, there were enough places on the Pole for him to grab or fashion one.

He wasn’t there to confiscate whatever ‘contraband’ he had in his room, despite Lucky’s insistence on comparing the place to prison.

“I assume it’s not because they enjoyed cooking and woodcarving?” he asks. The shiv tipped off that one.

He figures it is better to be careful with the delicate bit of trust that the kid was showing him and let him continue unabated.

"He cooked," is Boba's response. It's not refuting Miguel's guess, but if he wants to believe that's all there is to it, he's free to.

Boba finishes arranging the knives and goes back to the closet. It takes a moment of digging, it's really shoved back in a corner, but he does grab something large and round-ish. He holds it protectively in his arms, covering as much as he can, but the silver and blue paint, and the range-finder sticking out the top, is hard to miss.

He stands in front of the altar. After a moment of hesitation, he places the plastic replica helmet in the center of the higher tier with a reverence that doesn't fit the cheap toy in his hands. It's perfectly framed by the candles he set out earlier. He fusses with it for a moment, wanting it to be displayed as perfectly as possible.

Boba drops his hands to his sides. He doesn't turn around to face Miguel.

"I'll need a lighter," he forces his voice to stay neutral.

The initial reaction melts away as he continues to watch. It was clearly significant enough for the kid to assemble and place it with care, so on the altar it goes.

When the helmet comes out, there's a realization on Miguel's end on who this was for. And with it comes with a strong pang of empathy for the poor kid who couldn't even properly recover the genuine article. He's tempted to ask a few more questions, to idly chat to maybe make the process a little easier, but the careful evenness in Lucky's voice makes him reconsider. Now wasn't the time.

He just fishes for a lighter in his pocket (the lack of suit actually made room for those) and takes out an old, zippo-style one found somewhere from the Pole's tool stocks. He flicks on the flame for him.

"Careful." he says, more of general concern than doubting the kid didn't know his way around fire.

Edited 2023-12-04 03:51 (UTC)

Boba scowls at the warning, but takes the lighter anyway. He carefully lights each candle.

As he does, he speaks quietly.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum*," the words are spoken rhythmically, like a prayer.

"Ba'buir* Jaster, ba'vodu* Arla, ba'vodu Myles."

He lights another candle with each name he mutters. There's three left, and he hesitates before putting the flame to the wick.

"Aurra- Aurra Sing," that name comes out less steady than the others. There's clear conflict in his expression, as if he's not sure if he should have said it with the others.

"Zam Wesell." That name is said with more confidence.

"Buir*."

Boba closes the lighter and stares at the display.

(*I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.)
(*Grandfather, aunt/uncle.)
(*Father)

Edited 2023-12-04 03:55 (UTC)

The remembrances. The spirit of it was familiar despite the different language. Like a service of a more somber note. It's not always a happy thing when there's a lot of ghosts to talk to, not if they were all recent. He watches the flickering lights for a while, casting a shadow in a long, gargoyle-like shape against the wall with his lowered posture.

In another time, he might have been inclined to offer more comfort for the kid. But loss and the deepened well of anger had infected that side of him with a sharp frostbite. Still, after a few minutes to absorb the moment, he manages a small squeeze to Boba's shoulder for his attention.

"Do you still want to get more things for them?" he asks, keeping his voice gentle.

Boba mentioned the red and gold, but it was a personal thing, ultimately. Miguel would let him lead on whether or not he'd like to go ahead. He could manage that much for a kid who lost way more than he should have.

Boba doesn't flinch at the hand on his shoulder. He does shudder and suppress the instinct to grab one of the knives at stab it, though.

"Yeah." Boba stands and slides his hands, with the lighter still in his grip, into his pockets in one smooth motion. He gives a lingering look to the helmet before turning away.

He keeps his gaze to the floor. His eyes aren't wet, he knows better than that, but his voice is more hoarse than he'd like. A part of him resents Miguel for being there-- resents himself for not making him leave.

It's too late to change now. Boba waits for Miguel to lead him to wherever the flowers are.

Miguel watches the lighter disappear into his pocket and sighs to himself. Seems like a bad moment to get on his case about it. Given it was scrounged from around the Pole anyway, maybe it would be fine to let him keep it.

"Sorry, kid." He says it with an unusually soft sympathy.

What context Miguel gleamed from the ritual didn't leave him with much else that felt appropriate. So he leaves it at that and walks ahead of him. Their trip to the Relaxation Area would be quiet but relatively brief.

With the Winter Season around the corner, the Workshop Floor was already building up with a lot of hustle and bustle, so he opted instead to leave one of the quieter dens with his remaining bundles of flowers at the top of the tall bookshelves and cabinets. The floral scents were obvious the moment they entered the room.

Dan, being a tobacco addict, doesn't smell the flowers, but he does notice them when he pops into one of the dens to try and find some spare ribbon. He's still there when Miguel and Boba turn the corner, looking through the cabinets for wrapping supplies.

"Oh, hey- sorry, was just looking around for some supplies. Miguel, good to see you." He pauses, looking as if he's being just casually normal, but upon seeing Boba intentionally adopting the least confrontational poise he can manage. It's not even anything particular about Boba so much as that the kids here tend to come in traumatized and damaged, and Dan doesn't want to intimidate them nor condescend to them.

"Sorry, we ain't met. I'm Dan."

The first thing Boba does when they enter the room is find all the exits, then positions himself so he has a clear path to as many as he can. The second is doing a quick threat assessment on the man already there. He doesn't look like he's here to hurt anyone, which could change any moment, but he does look like he's trying to get something out of them with that non-threatening act.

Boba's hackles are immediately up when he speaks. Why is this "Dan" apologizing? Who cares if they haven't met? He already knows Miguel, but Miguel is clearly a terrible judge of character. He's been spending all this time and energy on Boba, after all.

There's a slightly too-long pause before Boba remembers that he's supposed to respond.

"I'm Lucky."

There, interaction done. Now where are the flowers?

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