The Adventures Of Daenes & Emile

[Bangi 104]

The (Not So) Most Wondrous Adventures of Daenes & Emile

 

This, the story of a man, and a ghost.

 

 

 

Emile Marion, a simple Anthosian man alive beyond his years. Old and decrepit, his bones creaking with each step. Yet still stronger a man then you would think upon a look. He wore a clean white shirt, with a black vest and tan belted breeches. A tattoo portraying a black fire breathing dragon adorned the shaven left side of his head, while white hair draped down the right. This was a prideful, family oriented Auvergenian man. Raised a peasant, a gutter child. This man, this one Emile Marion, strode along the dirt forest floor in heavy leather boots. He used to have a purpose, he used to have many. Now nomadic and beaten down, he had no purpose. He lived, simply because he liked it, liked the misery behind it.

 

 

Behind him followed, ever vigilantly, his wife Daenes. Now his wife was a simple wood elven farmer. A good woman to be honest, far too good for the likes of Emile. He knew this, but still he desired her. She knew this, but still she yearned for him. The very unfortunate thing however, about this mans wife. Is, simply put, that she was dead. A spectral being following him, haunting his steps. When they met it was not so.. When they met…

 

Daenes’ disembodied voice strained out a giggle, as she lifted a stone and hit the back of her husbands skull with it. And he grimaced, reminded of his cursed existence. But.. It was not so bad for him. He was truly devoted to this woman, even though she often liked to hurt him. It was okay, because they liked to hurt each other. And so they did. Emile stopped, turned, and smiled at the nothingness of the air. Or at least to anyone else that is what it would seem like, but no, he knew better. Daenes smiled back innocently, even though he could not see her, he knew she was feigning innocence.

 

“Dear…” He pleaded, and she knew what he meant. And she frowned, knowing he did not want to be pestered.

 

“You are no fun.. You know that?”  She retorted snidely, desiring amusement. Desiring chaos.. For she was no kind ghost. She was quite the evil ***** in all fact of the matter. But not to Emile, she tortured him but.. She cared.

 

He turned, and resumed stepping along through the woods in silence, at least for a moment. Rubbing his goatee he spoke up, “Maybe you could make yourself useful for once, and go use one of those damn rocks to hunt a squirrel for dinner.” He chuckled. “Rather than lurking around doing absolutely jack ****.”

 

She retorted quickly, and with wit. “I could, but we don’t want you to become lazy.”  She said and snickered, “Besides, someone has to keep you company.”

 

“And I suppose you’d nominate yourself for that position? I don’t need you, y’know.. I’ve got plenty of friends.”

 

Daenes found that laughable. What ******* friends? They’d been alone in the woods for years now. Not even their two children to keep them company. “And what ******* friends are those, mister ‘I’m better than everyone?’.”

 

Emile stops, kneeling down and picking up a medium sized rock from the ground. He took an inkwell out of his travel sack, opening it up and dabbing his finger in it. He drew two eyes and a mouth on the rock. Looking to his beloved with all seriousness in his voice he said, “This here is my best friend. Ehh… Rockehnoupolus Pebblebottom. He’ll keep me company while you get me food.” He laughed insanely, as in truth his mind deteriorated long ago. Being a human well beyond his days.

 

“I suppose then, you’ll be bedding that rock from now on?” She rubbed her spectral arm absent mindedly, forgetting she wasn’t even real.

 

“My choices are bedding a lubed up rock or a ghost eh? I’ll go with the rock..” Jesting, he looked over his shoulder, before continuing onward.

 

She smirked invisibly at her once-lover, figuring he may very well be serious about that. Though really, she had more pressing things on her mind. And an eternity to let these concerns devour her. She often found herself wondering, were her children even alive? What happened to them? “Emile…”

 

“I know..” He responded, the same things crossing his mind more often than anything else.

 

They had two children, Damien and Sylvie. Damien was a bit introverted.. Respected his father, though also enjoyed to poke fun at Emile’s goatee and Auvergenian accent. Sylvie on the other hand, was her fathers daughter in all matters. A truly insane child, which no doubt was killed long ago by someone who… was more on the good side of things. Emile himself fluctuated, between being an insane vagabond, and an equally insane man pretending to be a good person. He acted quite well, but the urge to kill something and steal things came around often, and like a wildfire.

 

“We should camp for the night..” He said finally.

 

More to come!

[Mephistophelian 977]

Wtf....this is great! I'm sorry but I did not expect it from the out-of-nowhere-ness, but this is really nice! Write more :D. Tell me, is this your own story, fabricated by yourself, or one formed via RP?

[Bangi 104]

This part is fabricated, but it's based on my Anthos/Fringe character Emile and his elvish wife Daenes, who committed suicide and came back as a ghost. I don't really want to play this character on the server anymore so I devised this way to continue the story of him and his wife.

More will be written, I just don't know when. ;D

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.