[This takes places perhaps a couple of months before the setting of the actual game]



The past couple of days had been tough but Moira was doing her best to forget about it and let go as she sat on the couch with Alistair as they watched some show or movie, though to be fair, her mind wasn't really on it. She idly brushed at Alistair's hair as he lay with his head on her lap as she thought about the last few days, or, more precisely, what had happened a few days ago. It was still sort of haunting her...
She had been driving and the weather had been absolutely horrendous but she had been elated even so. Alistair had proposed to her. It was just a shame that they hadn't been able to stay together longer but they both had busy schedules. She glanced again at her hand on the steering wheel, once more still stunned to see the ring on her finger. It really still felt surreal. Suddenly there was a loud bang near the rear of the car and the back end had started sliding out. Moira had done everything she could to keep the vehicle straight but with how slick the road was with the rain, it had been in vain. The last thing she had remembered was the car hitting something hard and beginning to roll.

That had been three days ago. She had awoken, to seeing Alistair with her on the side of the road as he had resuscitated her. Her memory of that was quite vague but she could remember how confused she was that he was there. She had blacked out again shortly after and then later woken again in the hospital. She had been released yesterday, having thankfully no more serious injuries than bruises, sprains and a bump on the head. She had been told she had been lucky though that someone had resuscitated her; she had essentially drowned when her car had been upside down in the deep water in the ditch.

Yesterday she had still really been hurting. Today though.. today she wasn't nearly as bad. Still a bit sore but it wasn't so bad, she thought as she ran her fingers through Alistair's hair. She did feel a little bit off though, just a slight, odd disconnected feeling but she shrugged it off, unable to explain it. She wanted... no, she needed something to help her feel alive again, to confirm that she was still alive... She gently pushed Alistair up and got up, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her towards the bedroom.

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Moira awoke sometime in the middle of the night with a start. She'd been having some odd dream that she could only remember vague details of, though she clearly noted that many were aspects of her field of study, Celtic lore, that had been present. Something seemed that it had been important in the dream but she just couldn't recall.. She felt.. off. Like before but much more intently. Disconnected. Not emotionally but physically... It was only then that she realized she was lying on TOP of the covers of the bed. That was odd. She knew she had been under them when she had fallen asleep.

With a mental shrug, she rolled over to look at Alistair sleeping beside her. She smiled, seeing him, just happy to be there beside him. She reached out to gently run her hand along the side of his face... and her hand passed straight through him! With a shocked cry, Moira jumped up, off the bed, to her feet. What was that?! Cautiously she took a step forward, reaching out to Alistair's shoulder this time and again, her hand passed through it.

She looked at her hand. It looked normal enough in the dim light of the room. "Alistair... Alistair..." she called out quietly at first, increasing the volume with the second but he didn't stir. She turned instead, intending to turn on the bedside lamp but as she reached out for it, her had passed through that as well. Horror took control as she staggered back in near panic.

She curled up in the corner of the room, arms wrapped around herself as tears began to stream down her face. She felt solid to herself but.. but she couldn't touch anything. Had the past few days been a dream? A hallucination? Maybe she hadn't survived the car accident after all.... That seemed to make sense now, why she couldn't touch anything. Panic started to well up in her even more with that realization. She knew now... she was dead after all. She was so distraught that she didn't even hear Alistair get up, tears rolling down her face as she curled up into a ball in the corner, sobbing at all that was now lost to her.

So distraught she was, that she didn't even hear the stirring sounds from the bed. It was only when her name began to be called out that it drew her back to the present. She glanced over in the dark room, seeing the form of Alistair sit up, but she didn't answer. She didn't know what to say, or if he would even be able to see or hear her, for that matter. That thought brought on another sob.
Alistair rubbed at his eyes, only half awake, as he squinted, trying to follow the sounds. "Moira?" he said again. Then he finally did notice her. He blinked a couple of times, confused about why she was way over in the corner of the room, sitting on the floor in the middle of the night. "Moira? What are you doing...." he began to ask but trailed off as he realized now that she was crying. He jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, almost tripping in the sheets as he made his way over to her. "Moira, what's wrong?" he asked as he reached out to put a hand on her, to try to comfort her or.. maybe wake her up if she was having a bad dream and sleep walking?

Moira turned to him just as his hand passed through her upper arm. She gasped in sorrow at the same time that Alistair yelped at the unexpectedness of it. She curled up tighter in misery. "Alistair.." she began, but trailed off. Alistair reached out to try again and again, his hand passed through her. "Alistair... did I just imagine the past few days? Being at the hospital? You bringing me home to recover? The time we spent together tonight?" she said, pointing towards the bed. "Did I die in the accident?"

Alistair frowned as he sat back on his heels beside her. "No." he answered emphatically. "You didn't die. Well.. I mean, for a couple of minutes technically... But I brought you back." he explained. "We did go to the hospital. They gave you a clean bill of health for the most part and sent you home after a night of observation. You are very much alive." he said assuredly.

Moira turned to face him fully, full of desperation. "Well, how do you explain this?!" she asked as she waved her arm on the far side away from him through the nearby wall, the arm up to her bicep disappearing through it. She pulled it back, then with her other hand, tried to run her fingers long his jaw, but they passed through just as intangibly. "How do you explain that?" she asked in a quieter voice. A defeated voice. Her eyes turned to look at the ground, "I'm dead. A ghost."

Alistair took a deep breath. "No, you're not. I've seen it before." he admitted.

Moira's shocked face turned back to him, her jaw working at words that didn't come immediately. "What?! What... what do you mean?" she stammered.

Alistair ignored the question as he continued to think about something for a moment before he finally held out his hand, palm up. "Take my hand. Remember what it feels like... Immerse yourself in what you know it should feel like..." he said. When he saw her reach out and her hand immediately pass through his, he continued. "Close your eyes, love. Think about it, focus on it as hard as you can." he added.

Moira did as he asked, closing her eyes tightly. She thought about all the times they had held hands. The warmth of his hand, the rough softness of it... the feel of her smaller hand in his. She smiled as she reached out, thinking about it, remembering it as intensely as if she would feel it right now. Her hand met resistance. Warmth and texture. Her eyes shot open. Her hand was in his. For a moment, she couldn't believe what her eyes were telling her. She pushed down harder with her hand and it pushed his with her. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, a smile growing on her face as she realized that.. it was all feeling normal again. With her other hand, she reach back to the wall, which stopped her hand, the wall being perfectly solid to her again. She threw herself into Alistair's arms, desperate for the security of his embrace and joyous at the same time.

After holding him for what seemed a long time, revelling being able to be in his arms again, and he in hers, she finally pulled back a little bit, looking at him with some confusion and curiosity. And some uncertainty. "Alistair.... how did you know what would work?" she asked slowly.

Alistair looked a bit unhappy to be having to explain, or perhaps, unsure of how to explain. "At my work. There are certain.. people with.. abilities? Afflictions. Some are born with certain.. traits, and some... acquire them, one way or another." he began. "Some see these afflictions as a curse, some see it as a gift. Well, there are many different types with a number of different traits."

When he paused for a second, Moira interjected. "What are you talking about, Alistair? Afflictions?"

He frowned, grasping with one hand at the air as he tried to find a good way to answer. "Okay, this may sound crazy but.. some... drink blood, some are shapeshifters into wolves..."

"Vampires and werewolves..." Moira interrupted with disbelief.

Alistair nodded. "For all intents and purposes. Vampires, werewolves, demons... faeries... even ghosts..." he added, gesturing towards her.

Moira frowned in confusion. "You said I wasn't dead..." she said flatly.

"Ahh.. no, no, you aren't... which is the odd part. They usually are.. They can be incorporeal or corporeal at will.. but... you are exhibiting some.. different traits than they usually do otherwise..." he said, the scientific curiosity taking over as he thought about it. He reached out to her wrist, and then neck, feeling. "You have a pulse and it is very strong." he said, then paused again. "There was rock salt on the ground outside of the hospital. These ghosts generally have issues with rock salt. You didn't... but you did seem to draw back from the fireplace poker earlier tonight..." he pondered.

Moira put a hand to her face, running it down from her forehead to chin, wiping off some of the wetness remaining from previous tears in the process. "Iron.." she said quietly to herself. When Alistair made a questioning sound, she looked up at him again. "Iron." she said again, louder this time. "The poker was made of wrought iron...."

"And that means something.." he prodded.

Moira nodded slowly as she looked away at the far wall, deep in thought. "A young woman of a noble family meeting an untimely end.. vulnerable and warded away by pure iron...." she said, half to herself. She let out a deep breath. It all fit.. sort of... There was just one thing to test... She drew in a deep breath, making sure to be facing well away from Alistair. As she got ready, she could feel something a bit.. different. She knew she could direct this, control it...

She let out a scream, but not a normal scream. This one was focused. To her, to Alistair or anyone standing beside, it might be loud but not terribly so. Not even as loud as she would be able to scream normally. The spot on the wall, however, where she had focused, where she had aimed this scream, dented the drywall with a crack, as if someone had punched it. Moira's jaw dropped as she stared at what she had just done... with her voice.

"Moira... love,.... how did you do that?" Alistair asked.

She turned to look at him, shocked but at least now understanding.. something. "I'm not a ghost. I am bean sí. A banshee..." she said slowly, her eyes still wide. This was part of the myth she had been dedicating her life, her career to studying. She knew it like the back of her hand. "I mean.. well.. I guess the myth of the bean sí is based on.. people like me..." she trailed off.

"They say that every myth has a kernel of truth to it... There.. there must have been others like me... Maybe it's something hereditary, a rare possibility in cases of accidents like mine in certain Irish bloodlines..." she grasped at. "Is there anyone else like that at where.. you work?" she asked a bit hopefully. It was a shock to find out he was more than he had made apparent; she had thought he was only a expert on the occult that dealt with universities and whatnot. But she was even more interested in learning anything else she could than questioning him about his job.

"No. I've not seen any quite like what you can do before. What about what you did with that... scream?" Alistair asked.

Moira half shrugged. "I just.. felt like I knew I could do that..." she replied, wishing she had better answers.

"But you couldn't control being incorporeal?" When she shook her head slowly in negative, Alistair drew her into his arms again. "Don't worry, love. We will figure it all out."