Title: Cassadaga (Ch. 6)
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah.
Summary: Merlin still doesn't get answers.
Warnings: talks of ghosts and the dead
Word Count: 1k
Prompt: #256: What’d I miss?
Author's Notes: Blah 😔 Previous parts: Ch. 1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch. 5.
The first hints of spring begin to spread around Albion, mornings are getting warmer, the sunshine brighter and almost golden, the foliage of trees a vibrant green and the flowers are in bloom. Deep purple gentians, sweet smelling bluebells, pink and yellow foxgloves embellishing the town, colours sprouting everywhere as if the pavements have cracked open to give way to life.
“It’s nice out, isn't it?” Merlin casually comments looking out the window of his shop. His last client, a girl of barely eighteen who wanted to speak with her late mother left him charged, her grief slowly dissipating from the atmosphere. The connection was weak but enough to give her peace. Merlin clutches to a thread of happiness, however small it may be.
Every once in awhile someone he knows will wave at him or knock on his window distracting him, helping him to settle the world around. Some of them are like family. Kilgharrah looks bored.
After a week Merlin’s come to learn a thing or two about about him. None of which is actually useful. Merlin consoles himself with the fact he has a spirit guide. Though he spends more time grooming himself than pointing Merlin in the right direction.
“I was thinking you could tell me about this past life we’re supposed to have lived together,” Merlin tries again. Kilgharrah always says what's necessary, never wastes his breath. “Please, I want to understand we’re doing here.”
“What's to understand? Destiny doesn't need to be rationalized,” Kilgharrah tells him, jumps from the windowsill to the table where Merlin is cleaning crystals, getting rid of the bad energies voiding them.
He stares critically. “That girl is hopeless.”
“Yes, she should stick to reading tea leaves. Her energy is not right for crystals.”
Merlin chuckles. He’s possibly right. “I’ll make sure to pass on your wisdom to her. I’ll also tell her she should never bring you treats again.”
“A small price to pay.” Kilgharrah sets his eyes on him, round and inquisitive. “Why are you so desperate to know?”
Merlin drops a yellow topaz, clangs against the table, he leans back on his chair regarding Kilgharrah, wondering what his human form looked like, if he always was this standoffish, and if the constant manic beating of his heart has anything to do with him being here. “Because I have this strange feeling like something is about to happen and I have no idea if it’s good or bad, all I know is that I’m restless. I have this urge to run. Constantly. Even more since yesterday. Right now I want to open the door and run as fast as I can until I feel it’s right to stop.”
“Why don't you?”
It’s a simple enough question but Merlin has no answer.
“If you’re afraid you shouldn't be. You haven't let fear stop you before,” Kilgharrah tells him. Merlin swallows, this somehow seems bigger, like falling headfirst into the abyss or something sweeter.
“No, I suppose not. I had to adapt from an early age and learn to live with the unimaginable.”
“There you go.”
“I’m out of my depth here. Souls in transition, naughty ghosts, grieving humans, those are easy to get. They want something. They need help. When I was a kid I made contact with this one ghost who wanted a friend, and I became one.”
“Ah, yeah, Mordred,” Kilgharrah says voice low lost in a memory. “Once you loved him.”
Merlin blinks rapidly, mouth falling open. “You know about him.”
“I've known many versions of him. Your enemy, your friend, your brother.”
“Lives I know nothing about,” Merlin says. “Things written in the sky, bloody destiny.”
“Yes, bloody destiny.”
The cold's slowly losing its bite, however Merlin's still wrapped in various layers as he walks around town, his scarf securely around his neck. Kilgarrah trudges alongside him openly demonstrating his irritation towards Merlin for daring to put him on a leash. Merlin argued this was the safest to take him out for a walk.
"I never requested for this silly contraption, it's beneath me," Kilgharrah grumbles. He meows like he's in pain attracting curious glances.
"Oh hush, it's a nice afternoon and you should get to know Albion, it could help to improve your mood," Merlin says. Truth is he couldn't stand being inside the house, he felt trapped.
They're turning around the main street where two colossal trees stand and paint shadows beneath, and Kilgarrah's meowing increses. He pulls, walks faster and faster dragging Merlin behind him. "Stop it," Merlin hisses trying to regain control.
Kilgharrah doesn't listen, pulls yet again with a strange insistence eventually escaping Merlin's grip springting away.
"Kilgharrah!" Merlin runs after him, cursing his luck, he might be the only person to have a runner for a spirit guide. A bitter gust of wind blows past him and the caw of crows bell-like and raspy floods his hearing. Soon his attempt at catching up with the cat is thwarted when Merlin hits something solid and warm.
"Bollocks," Merlin says peeling himself away from another body.
“Oi, watch it where you’re going, will you?”
Merlin narrows his eyes, looks up. The wind’s knocked out of him.