Black coat. Black cane. Imperial purple silk blouse. Black slacks with a crease that can cut time. Silk scarf with a print resembling snake skin. A black chain hangs loosely around my hips. Hanging on it is a small collection of skull trinkets and a few bones of questionable origins.
Right.
Time to step out.
Lemme just get my shawl because where I’m headed to requires all to have a head covering regardless of gender or religion. It’s a pretty thing, black lace with a rose pattern. And it’s right… well it should be… Da fuq did I put it? I had it with the gloves… Where are the gloves?
Unseen hands are holding the gloves towards me. Invisible to the eye and barely sensed by other means, the entity bows a little greeting. The type of greeting when someone superior is present, is willfully taking a lesser role to help you, but won’t let you forget they are still superior.
I take the gloves and don them, thanking the entity for the assist. My shawl is hanging over the arm of the entity. I point to the shawl, but it gently moves my hand aside and fusses like a doting butler over every button and fold. Eventually the tugs, tucks, and pinches stop. I watch my shawl back away as the entity makes one last look at my presentation.
I stand with daring formality. “Well. Am I approved?”
It claps once, creating a gust of air.
It claps twice, raising a cloud of dust between the unseen hands.
It gently pats my face with those dusty hands. It felt like makeup being swiftly applied by a professional. Swish, swish, and now I’m ready for my closeup.
I sneeze from the powder. It smells of old bones and dry graveyard dirt. I realize that is a strangely specific scent and realize who else would have the tokens I do. “No. Oh no. Nononono. I don’t have the rights…”
A shudder shakes me and I fall to one knee. The entity, now with clean hands, helps me back to my feet. I feel my face and can tell the design now marking me. A skull face. Perfectly applied even down to the teeth markings on the lips.
I start to panic. The entity starts to chuckle. It is holding my shawl in its hand now. It snaps the cloth and the shawl becomes a black tophat with a rose lace band.
“Shit.” I shudder more as I feel something settling on my shoulders. Waiting. Do I go ahead and surrender, or must I be conquered this time? “Does he know you’re up to some shit? I’m filing my formal statement that I did not ask for this, nor am I a willing accomplice.”
«Noted, Girl. I’ll take good care of this body. I just want to borrow it for a while.»
“All these tokens you may wear. Except for the face and the hat. For you have your own face to wear, and the hat calls me. And when I come, I never leave empty-handed.” I’m sure I futzed a word or two from [Rummer John’s] declaration to me in my recital. The entity laughed.
«It’s one thing for you to take up the face and the hat on your own. Which I commend you for never doing after I forbid it. It’s another thing for the face and the hat to be placed on you. Like now.»
The entity steadied me and placed the top hat slightly askew on my head. My body viciously shook as something descended from the hat and skull paint to invade me. I closed my eyes and yielded to Rummer John.
“Hey. What do you think? I have a nice ass, don’t I!” The sound of my voice with an accent I can’t duplicate teased me into opening my eyes. There was my body, walking around with a swagger that called and mocked at the same time. My hands kept shifting the top hat, trying to find the balance between arrogance and daring.
My spirit was at the base of a tree. A single grave was here. I was caught between the tree and the grave. “You should be comfortable here. It’s your grave after all. Well, one of your former you’s anyway. I’ll be careful with your face, Weaver. I just have a point to make to… someone.” My voice laughed with his coldness. I was thankful his ire was not directed at me. My eyes looked up into the tree. “Ah! There you are! Come down, [Raven]! Keep the girl some company, eh! This won’t take long.”
My hands tapped the top hat into a precarious position. It was perfect. My body bowed deceitfully formally towards my still sitting spirit. I watched Rummer John walk away from the tree, me, and the forgotten grave. My voice sang a raunchy and lewd song in a language I could not identify, but could distinguish from the dancing actions my hips attempted to make.
I wasn’t angry. Much. Annoyed as fuck, but not angry. Resigned to being in spiritual time-out for the night, I had to do something to recover my station with Rummer John. “My hips can dip lower than that you fucking bastard! You’re gonna fuck up my reputation wiggling like a tipsy Baptist like that! Ride it like you fucking stole it, you fucking body-thief!”
My voice pealed in laughter in the distance. Foreign words were shouted back that my ears could not identify, but the meaning was clear. “Very well then, I will!”
[Raven] descended from the branches above me and perched on my shoulder. “So now that the delinquent is gone, we can talk.”
And we did.
When I woke up, my hips felt like they had been dislocated and popped back in place. My thighs were burning and my leg bones just plain hurt. I was more upset that I am completely ignorant of what that bastard did in my (dream) body, than the implications of what actions would make my pelvic region hurt like that.
I may have to shank some bitches tonight. We’ll see.