Joe never liked the cold. Especially not the bitter, biting cold of that night....the way the wind whipped and tore through even the heaviest of layers like they weren't there. The clouds boiling overhead threatened to release their condensation on the earth below and obscured the stars and moon to make the night even darker than normal.
This was not where Joe wanted to be on this particular night, but it was where he was supposed to be. Needed to be. There was balance that needed restoring.
He felt the pulse of life up ahead before the two people came strolling into view. Two, brilliant pulses of life and a third, weaker hanger-on. Joe didn't move yet, he let them get closer.
Their voices floated around the corner, sweet nothings and joyful laughter. Hands twined together the pair strolled down the street completely unaware that they weren't alone, that they were being watched. For a few moments they were still in their happy bubble of blissful ignorance.
The man noticed Joe first - it was hard to miss him anyways, a broad man a few inches over six feet - and when he slowed the woman with him followed her companions gaze. They stopped and her brows knit together. Neither man spoke.
"Do you know him, Mark?" The woman asked in a nervous voice. Joe moved finally, pushing from his lean to approach the pair with his hands held slightly away from his body, palms up.
"It's time to go," Joe said to the man who had dropped his lady friend's hand and was backing away. The woman was talking again, questioning, threatening to get the watch. Joe wasn't listening, she wasn't important. "You've had your fun. C'mon."
"N-no," the man, Mark, protested weakly. The two spirits within pulsed to Joe's eyes, the brighter growing more-so and the weaker going dim. "It's not fair! Why can't I stay?"
"Because that's not your body," Joe said softly. One hand had dipped inside the pocket of his coat. The woman was nearly hysterical now, but she hadn't started screaming. Joe hoped she wouldn't start screaming, then he'd have to do something. He withdrew his hand and Mark scrambled backwards, nearly stumbling.
It was a small, dark gem that he held. Crudely hewn it didn't look to be valuable, but a keen eye would spot the fine inscription carved in a spiral. Joe spoke quietly, old words rarely heard by the humans of today. The gem didn't glow, but it radiated energy.
Mark tried to run, but it was too late: a silver thread burst from his chest and flew to the gem. The man slumped to the ground and the once dark stone had turned silver. Joe sighed and slipped it into his pocket.
As he turned to go, the woman's shrill voice broke through once more. "What did you do to him?" She demanded. She'd knelt next to the man and was shaking him. The man was unconscious, but obviously alive. Joe narrowed his eyes on him a moment. The weak pulse was growing stronger with every passing moment.
Joe crouched down to touch a hand lightly to the woman's shoulder; she'd tried to pull away, but he was quicker.
"Everything will be okay," he told her in a low, soothing voice. Her anxiety seemed to drift away, her expression going slack. "You found this man here after he slipped on the ice. He'll be fine and deep down you know he's a good man, even though you just met." The woman nodded and still seemed dazed when Joe got up. He turned and as he headed away he could hear her gently rousing the man.
Around the corner the shadows pulsed. It wasn't life he felt, it wasn't death; it was that place in between. It responded to the wayward soul in his pocket, beckoning it back. Joe stepped through into a place where the world looked gray, washed out. There were people here, too, and they too were only impressions of themselves. Only Joe looked bright and real.
He followed the road until the buildings grew more solid and suddenly life was vibrant again. He turned down a path and entered through what looked like a warehouse door, but inside was yet another place again. It was an endless room, every way he looked there were just columns and openness. He kept walking and walking until the gem in his pocket pulsed again and he turned.
The abyss was still all around him, but before him was a well. He fished the soul gem out of his pocket and glanced down into the watery depths before dropping it in. There were millions of gems down there, all different colors. Most were silver, but a few were brilliant gold and others so black they seemed to suck in the light. They were ever changing: as he watched some appeared and others disappeared. One broke while he watched, another dull silver gem and a thread wound its way out of the well and out into the world before Joe could react.
He sighed. Eventually he'd have to go find that one, too, but it might be years or even decades before it found a body to bind to.
For now he was tired and he needed a rest. He left the well and found his way back out of the shadows into the world of the living once more.
This was not where Joe wanted to be on this particular night, but it was where he was supposed to be. Needed to be. There was balance that needed restoring.
He felt the pulse of life up ahead before the two people came strolling into view. Two, brilliant pulses of life and a third, weaker hanger-on. Joe didn't move yet, he let them get closer.
Their voices floated around the corner, sweet nothings and joyful laughter. Hands twined together the pair strolled down the street completely unaware that they weren't alone, that they were being watched. For a few moments they were still in their happy bubble of blissful ignorance.
The man noticed Joe first - it was hard to miss him anyways, a broad man a few inches over six feet - and when he slowed the woman with him followed her companions gaze. They stopped and her brows knit together. Neither man spoke.
"Do you know him, Mark?" The woman asked in a nervous voice. Joe moved finally, pushing from his lean to approach the pair with his hands held slightly away from his body, palms up.
"It's time to go," Joe said to the man who had dropped his lady friend's hand and was backing away. The woman was talking again, questioning, threatening to get the watch. Joe wasn't listening, she wasn't important. "You've had your fun. C'mon."
"N-no," the man, Mark, protested weakly. The two spirits within pulsed to Joe's eyes, the brighter growing more-so and the weaker going dim. "It's not fair! Why can't I stay?"
"Because that's not your body," Joe said softly. One hand had dipped inside the pocket of his coat. The woman was nearly hysterical now, but she hadn't started screaming. Joe hoped she wouldn't start screaming, then he'd have to do something. He withdrew his hand and Mark scrambled backwards, nearly stumbling.
It was a small, dark gem that he held. Crudely hewn it didn't look to be valuable, but a keen eye would spot the fine inscription carved in a spiral. Joe spoke quietly, old words rarely heard by the humans of today. The gem didn't glow, but it radiated energy.
Mark tried to run, but it was too late: a silver thread burst from his chest and flew to the gem. The man slumped to the ground and the once dark stone had turned silver. Joe sighed and slipped it into his pocket.
As he turned to go, the woman's shrill voice broke through once more. "What did you do to him?" She demanded. She'd knelt next to the man and was shaking him. The man was unconscious, but obviously alive. Joe narrowed his eyes on him a moment. The weak pulse was growing stronger with every passing moment.
Joe crouched down to touch a hand lightly to the woman's shoulder; she'd tried to pull away, but he was quicker.
"Everything will be okay," he told her in a low, soothing voice. Her anxiety seemed to drift away, her expression going slack. "You found this man here after he slipped on the ice. He'll be fine and deep down you know he's a good man, even though you just met." The woman nodded and still seemed dazed when Joe got up. He turned and as he headed away he could hear her gently rousing the man.
Around the corner the shadows pulsed. It wasn't life he felt, it wasn't death; it was that place in between. It responded to the wayward soul in his pocket, beckoning it back. Joe stepped through into a place where the world looked gray, washed out. There were people here, too, and they too were only impressions of themselves. Only Joe looked bright and real.
He followed the road until the buildings grew more solid and suddenly life was vibrant again. He turned down a path and entered through what looked like a warehouse door, but inside was yet another place again. It was an endless room, every way he looked there were just columns and openness. He kept walking and walking until the gem in his pocket pulsed again and he turned.
The abyss was still all around him, but before him was a well. He fished the soul gem out of his pocket and glanced down into the watery depths before dropping it in. There were millions of gems down there, all different colors. Most were silver, but a few were brilliant gold and others so black they seemed to suck in the light. They were ever changing: as he watched some appeared and others disappeared. One broke while he watched, another dull silver gem and a thread wound its way out of the well and out into the world before Joe could react.
He sighed. Eventually he'd have to go find that one, too, but it might be years or even decades before it found a body to bind to.
For now he was tired and he needed a rest. He left the well and found his way back out of the shadows into the world of the living once more.