Original: Touch
Title: Touch
Series: Original
Characters/Pairings: Ghost!Tristan/Eleanor
Rating: G
Warnings: how does ghosts
Summary: Forever is a long, long time / But I wouldn't mind spending it by your side.
Interacting with a ghost is difficult at first, and it takes a number of reasonable tries before Eleanor feels she's even remotely understanding how to feel him. She would gladly just blindly kiss the air forever if that was what it took to be with him, however, and so the learning curve is more than acceptable. This is something. This is him really and actually staying beside her.
"Don't move," Tristan says, and Eleanor freezes completely. If she moves too suddenly or too directly, she can easily pass right through him, and though it does him no harm, it means that the feeling of touch is momentarily disturbed. She can usually feel him before she can see him, though, and that's the case at this particular moment. The air around her is like a warm draft.
It always said in books that ghosts left you with a chill, but nothing about Tristan has ever been cold, not even now that he's dead, and she's happy about that. He walks out of thin air, misty but somewhat translucent, looking as usual like he's being touched just slightly by a breeze that's imperceptible to her. Eleanor wants to embrace him, but she hasn't learned how yet and has to make due with him initiating contact instead.
His hand brushes against hers.
She would have accepted anything at all, really--a disembodied voice, a feeling that in passing resembled his touch or presence. The fact that when she focuses she can vaguely make out different textures, feel Tristan's fingers try to catch her own, feel that he is really there with her in slightly more than just spirit, fills her with immense gratitude to whatever powers that are.
Eleanor doesn't move, even though she wants to hold his hand in return or reach out and run a hand through his hair. Maybe that will come with time. There's definitely a presence to him, thicker than just air, though not as solid as a real, physical shape. She can hope, but in the meantime, this will do, even if it takes her a hundred years to master it. For the first time, she's been somewhat grateful to have time that won't run out. She doesn't have to wonder what will happen if she never learns to kiss him herself, something that took long enough to learn even when they both existed on a physical plane.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks softly. Sometimes she's afraid if she speaks too loudly it will somehow dissolve him. Too deep a sigh when he's close by at times seems to ripple parts of him.
Tristan is smiling. He touches her face like a faint spring breeze. "Close your eyes, I suppose. It might be strange if I kiss you with them open."
Eleanor smiles, too, but she does as she's told. She can feel him move closer to her, feel his lips find hers in exactly the way they should. She can't kiss him back yet for fear of dissipating his face by accident, but her senses drink him in in spite of this. It feels nearly identical to the way it did before and it fills her up with joy every single time. She opens her eyes just as he pulls away from her and it takes a lot of effort to keep from trying to pull him back to kiss her again.
"...I'm happy you're still here."
"Of course," he says fondly. "I would never have left you on purpose."
"I want to try to touch you, though." He won't mind; he never does. It's mostly the horror over the idea of accidentally passing through him that makes her hesitate, but she needs to learn somehow. She needs to at least keep trying.
Tristan stops where he is and holds his arms out to her. The ghostly image may have been a little more disconcerting if she didn't love him so much, and if she couldn't see the good attitude that practically radiates off him him, even now. "As much as you like."
The girl takes a small breath to ready herself and steps forward carefully. Sometimes there's no real bottom half to him because no part of him ever really needs to be visible anymore, but he hasn't been dead long enough to not be at least slightly bothered by that idea, so he spends as much time as is practical with a complete figure. Eleanor bites her lip and hesitantly reaches up to put her arms around him. It's like hugging warm air. She judges the distance incorrectly, which mysteriously seems to happen every time, and feels her arms pass through him. For a split second, she can feel something, much like the sensation of grabbing at water, but when she looks up, he's reappeared just past her.
"This is really confusing," Eleanor sighs.
Tristan laughs. The sound is a little airier than it once was, but it's pleasant nonetheless. "Well, I don't think anyone was ever meant to touch ghosts, cherie. We'll keep trying. Here." He moves back to her smoothly and she stops like usual. He slips his arms around her and hugs her softly, but still a bit indistinctly.
The feeling of him warm against her chest is enough, she tells herself. Somehow she knows everything else will come back in time.
Series: Original
Characters/Pairings: Ghost!Tristan/Eleanor
Rating: G
Warnings: how does ghosts
Summary: Forever is a long, long time / But I wouldn't mind spending it by your side.
Interacting with a ghost is difficult at first, and it takes a number of reasonable tries before Eleanor feels she's even remotely understanding how to feel him. She would gladly just blindly kiss the air forever if that was what it took to be with him, however, and so the learning curve is more than acceptable. This is something. This is him really and actually staying beside her.
"Don't move," Tristan says, and Eleanor freezes completely. If she moves too suddenly or too directly, she can easily pass right through him, and though it does him no harm, it means that the feeling of touch is momentarily disturbed. She can usually feel him before she can see him, though, and that's the case at this particular moment. The air around her is like a warm draft.
It always said in books that ghosts left you with a chill, but nothing about Tristan has ever been cold, not even now that he's dead, and she's happy about that. He walks out of thin air, misty but somewhat translucent, looking as usual like he's being touched just slightly by a breeze that's imperceptible to her. Eleanor wants to embrace him, but she hasn't learned how yet and has to make due with him initiating contact instead.
His hand brushes against hers.
She would have accepted anything at all, really--a disembodied voice, a feeling that in passing resembled his touch or presence. The fact that when she focuses she can vaguely make out different textures, feel Tristan's fingers try to catch her own, feel that he is really there with her in slightly more than just spirit, fills her with immense gratitude to whatever powers that are.
Eleanor doesn't move, even though she wants to hold his hand in return or reach out and run a hand through his hair. Maybe that will come with time. There's definitely a presence to him, thicker than just air, though not as solid as a real, physical shape. She can hope, but in the meantime, this will do, even if it takes her a hundred years to master it. For the first time, she's been somewhat grateful to have time that won't run out. She doesn't have to wonder what will happen if she never learns to kiss him herself, something that took long enough to learn even when they both existed on a physical plane.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks softly. Sometimes she's afraid if she speaks too loudly it will somehow dissolve him. Too deep a sigh when he's close by at times seems to ripple parts of him.
Tristan is smiling. He touches her face like a faint spring breeze. "Close your eyes, I suppose. It might be strange if I kiss you with them open."
Eleanor smiles, too, but she does as she's told. She can feel him move closer to her, feel his lips find hers in exactly the way they should. She can't kiss him back yet for fear of dissipating his face by accident, but her senses drink him in in spite of this. It feels nearly identical to the way it did before and it fills her up with joy every single time. She opens her eyes just as he pulls away from her and it takes a lot of effort to keep from trying to pull him back to kiss her again.
"...I'm happy you're still here."
"Of course," he says fondly. "I would never have left you on purpose."
"I want to try to touch you, though." He won't mind; he never does. It's mostly the horror over the idea of accidentally passing through him that makes her hesitate, but she needs to learn somehow. She needs to at least keep trying.
Tristan stops where he is and holds his arms out to her. The ghostly image may have been a little more disconcerting if she didn't love him so much, and if she couldn't see the good attitude that practically radiates off him him, even now. "As much as you like."
The girl takes a small breath to ready herself and steps forward carefully. Sometimes there's no real bottom half to him because no part of him ever really needs to be visible anymore, but he hasn't been dead long enough to not be at least slightly bothered by that idea, so he spends as much time as is practical with a complete figure. Eleanor bites her lip and hesitantly reaches up to put her arms around him. It's like hugging warm air. She judges the distance incorrectly, which mysteriously seems to happen every time, and feels her arms pass through him. For a split second, she can feel something, much like the sensation of grabbing at water, but when she looks up, he's reappeared just past her.
"This is really confusing," Eleanor sighs.
Tristan laughs. The sound is a little airier than it once was, but it's pleasant nonetheless. "Well, I don't think anyone was ever meant to touch ghosts, cherie. We'll keep trying. Here." He moves back to her smoothly and she stops like usual. He slips his arms around her and hugs her softly, but still a bit indistinctly.
The feeling of him warm against her chest is enough, she tells herself. Somehow she knows everything else will come back in time.