Is This a Ghost ? PV Hana Bakir CLOSED

Interacting ! @Syrah Vintera Word Count ! 747 Dialogue ! #0a2457

19 February ! Date X ! Outfit N/A ! Mentioning

"If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good."

"Yeah, rock salt."

"Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent."

"Yeah. It won’t kill 'em. But it’ll slow ‘em down."

...

xxxxOften associated with purity and protection across various cultures in the muggle world, salt served as the most common deterrent for ghosts, ghouls, demons, and a plethora other beings. While not dispelling of them entirely, firing salt at a spirit caused it to dissipate for a short period of time. It serves as the the reason why the eldest Bakir daughter salted the windows of her room in the manor, why she often salted and burned the bones her brothers buried in the backyard, and why she'd begun to experiment with a weapon referred to as "salt arrows."

Hana knew such knowledge would serve a purpose—that she'd finally seize the opportunity to exorcise beings of the supernatural world.

After a brief consultation of a plethora of books on Hogwarts's esteemed history, the young serpent ascertained there to be approximately twenty ghosts and one poltergeist that roam the stone fortresses' hallowed halls, one of them haunting the bathroom she currently occupied. As it stood, none of them fit the description of the girl currently standing in the middle of the abandoned toilets.

Hana knew of only one ghost at Hogwarts resembling the appearance of a teenage girl—however, she's oftentimes described as a frumpy fourteen-year-old with a whiny voice. This spirit bore a resemblance to none of the descriptors, its long, silvery haired flowing down its back in soft waves, accompanied by frosty blue optics. Hana had her eyes on the spirit for quite a while, first noticing her lingering at the top of the Entrance Hall staircase. Initially believing her to be human, Hana was tempted to approach her—her small, frail appearance luring her in as sirens did in the old sailor fables her uncle recounted to her. Though, Hana soon realized many oddities attributed to the young girl; how she floated about the space, how she seemed to lure the Bakir daughter in without as much as a single glance in her direction. The blonde girl had a sort of ethereal quality to her, something other worldly.

Naturally, Hana came to the conclusion she was a supernatural being of some kind. A ghost, perhaps.

The Bakir didn't hold a hunter's arsenal in her possession, nor could she inquire about acquiring such weapons to her non-muggle parents. Unfortunately, she was still experimenting with her salt-arrows, and thus couldn't use them in confidence lest they fail horribly. Quite the unfortunate situation. Consequently, the ravenette was compelled to make do with the rock salt that decorated the tables of the Great Halls. Over the course of several weeks, she'd arrive for dinner only to slink away with various salt shakers shoved in her frilly pockets.

Now perched atop one of the lavatory's creaky dividers, void eyes simply observed as the spirit floated about the space. She'd spent a majority of her day seeking out the spirit, only to find it drifting towards the abandoned toilets. Curious. Could spirits occupy one another's space? Or were they more territorial? Perhaps these two ghosts were friendly with one another, keeping one another company. The phantom experience seemed to be that of a lonely one—quietly floating about a plane of existence in which you didn't belong.

Dark brown eyes stay trained on its movements, akin to a predator preparing to pounce upon its prey. Arms remained limp in front of her, hands catching the dusty decorating the sides of the divider. Her head slightly tilted as she continued to observe the ghost curiously. Was it attempting to perform a seance? Could ghosts preform seances? Perhaps this wasn't a ghost at all, but some other creature. The granulated mineral sat heavy in her pockets, sporadically falling onto the floor; fumbling about, the Bakir reached into her pocket to grab a handful of the salt.

“Let’s see if this old magic still has a pulse."

Now was her time to strike. Climbing down from the partition, a loud 'thud' reverberated throughout the room as heeled boots met the ground. The flames of the candles strewn across the floor wavered, announcing her presence to the ghostly figure. The blonde spirit was met with a girl dressed in frills and lace—wide, unblinking eyes staring down at her. "Tell me where your bones lay, so I can dispose of you properly," her monotonous voice rang out, before throwing the salt in her hand at its face.

Syrah hadn’t expected an audience.

She staggered back as the salt hit her face, blinking rapidly as the grains stung her eyes.

For a moment, she just stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides.

Then, very slowly, she wiped a hand down her face, flicking the salt from her fingers.

“…What the...”

Her voice came out low, sharp, like the snap before a storm. Her head jerked up, black eyes locking onto the lunatic who had just walked in here and thrown salt at her like some deranged exorcist.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

She took a step forward, hands clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.

"You think I’m a ghost? You walked in, saw me, and instead of—I don’t know—using your fucking brain, you just decided to chuck a handful of salt at me?!"

A slow, simmering frustration settled in as she brushed the salt from her sleeve. She should have known—of course the one time she tried something, someone had to come along and ruin it.

"Do I look like a fucking ghost to you?!" She gestured wildly at herself, her solid, corporeal self, standing there in the dim candlelight.

Her nostrils flared as she glared at the girl, chest heaving.

“If you do that again, I’ll make sure the next thing you salt is your own grave.”