"It's not experts buyin' 'em though. See, hardly anyone knows ghosts are real but a whole lotta folks will do anything if they think they can get a glimpse of one. Idiots, most of 'em, doing rituals and shit they don't know nothin' about. They make movies about it all the time."
He shifted a little to stand more comfortably, remembering after a moment not to lean against the well. Sometimes he didn't bother asking about all the references JW made on a regular basis; if he asked for clarification on every single one, they probably wouldn't talk about much else. But this sounded kind of important.
Uh oh. Now he has to explain movies. But it's only one thing right now. The world-walker ran his fingers through his hair. He could do this. "Well, it's like a slide show...but there are so many slides that it looks like things are moving in real time. Folks use 'em to tell stories and hundreds and hundreds of people go to see them every day."
"Oh! No, they make them about people who do see ghosts and get attacked. They're called horror films. Ghosts, monsters, murderers. They love being scared when they know it's not real. Just a story."
JW was slightly envious of Ginko. He'd never been subjected to The Matrix. If James could erase one movie from existence, it would be that one.
"...Yeah, I can believe that." People who never ran into mushi always wanted to hear about them, after all. "Must be strange, seeing those and actually working with ghosts."
Ginko snorted quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "...You know what I mentioned about getting lucky, and knowing people interested in buying mushi-related objects? There's one guy I've been selling to for years - he can't actually see mushi, himself. But he's got quite a fixation on them."
"Seriously? Now that's gold. So how's that work anyhow?" He shifted hsi backpack a little, almost forgetting he was wearing it. "Somethin' your born with or do you have to have some rotting taxidermy nightmare slash you in the eyes?"
In Deuteronomy's defense, she was not activly rotting.
"Any number of things. Suiko just look like water, for example. Others may look like plants, or somewhat like insects or bacteria. There's..." He pauses, glancing at a swirling shape in the air next to him. He lifts up a hand to usher the mushi over in front of himself, even though he knows JW can't see it.
"...this one looks a little like a shrimp, but with more legs."
"Bacteria..." he parroted. So they knew about that. That was good. While James prided himself in being 'old timey' sometimes, he was still largely ignorant of what things were invented or discovered when and where.
He squinted into the space where Ginko seemed to be looking. He squinted hard and concentrated, but couldn't see so much as a ripple in the air. It was so weird being the one who couldn't see the Other. It was inconvenient and made him feel put-out and a little stupid...but it was also exciting. He had to go on Ginko's word because so far nothing had actually harmed JW. It could all be fake, a controlling lie, or a hallucination on Ginko's part. But he was so strange-looking and everyone in town knew him. Just like him.
And JW was determined to do better than the people of Hawksaw.
"A shrimp, huh...so what's the shrimp one? What's it's whole deal-e-o? Is it going to live in my teeth or make me turn inside out if I whistle the wrong note at it?"
"No. These are pretty harmless; they just eat shed hair and dead skin." He let the mushi tap its way across his hand, its segmented mouth tickling at his skin.
"I suppose so." He watched it for a moment, then held it out, cupping his free hand behind it so it didn't drift off. "You might be able to feel it if you hold it."
Normally, he wasn't in the practice of just handing mushi to people, but, like he had said, this one was harmless.
James made a small surprised noise in the back of his throat. It wasn't an offer he expected, but he really did want some kind of proof that these mushi existed. And contact with them would no doubt teach him something about them.
"Why not?"
It was hard not to fill silly cupping his hands and waiting for some unseen thing to crawl into it. Suddenly, every hair on his arms, wrapped or not, stood on end. Was he going to feel it biting the dead skin on his fingers? Never had he in his life had any kind of aversion to creepy crawlies, even the ungodly number of spiders in his grandfather's attic, but he suddenly found himself Very Worried.
Noting the concern on JW's face, Ginko added, "Don't worry, it's not going to hurt you."
Ginko nudged the creature gently into JW's hands; it went without protest, content to wander from one source of skin to another. JW wouldn't feel much more than a slight tickling as the mushi meandered across his hands, picking at bits of dead skin as it went.
JW was suddenly too occupied with the bizarre sensation to worry about making faces. He felt the dozens of tiny feet and the feather slight weight of the mushi wandering across his palms like a tiny invisible cow in a field. James was caught between being delighted and repulsed.
"Oh God."
He didn't want to move. He didn't want it to fly off and BE WHERE HE COULDN'T SEE IT but he also wasn't sure just how keen he was on the tickling sensation. It made him want to jerk his hands and rub them against something but what if that squished it?
"NO!" JW jerked away out of reflex but quickly caught himself before he jostled the mushi too much. He suddenly felt it pass from his palm to his wrist and let out a sound that would look like "Eeeyarrggggg," if you typed it out. He angled his arm and gave it a tiny shake. "It's going up my sleeve!"
JW does not, in fact, hold still. He staggers backwards and starts performing the strangest interpretive dance Ginko has probably ever seen.
"Aah!" He shrugs his backpack off onto the snowy ground and then he finally stops moving, shoulders around his ears, arms out like a scarecrow. "It's eating my scar tissue!"
"Okay, just... hang on a second. It won't hurt you, it's just going to kind of clean off the top layer..."
Ginko, that did not sound all that encouraging. He grabbed his own pack again and swung it open again, tugging out a small packet of powder and tipping a tiny bit into his hand. "I need you to tell me where the mushi is, and this stuff should chase it out."
Arms? Sure. Face? Okay. But the thing was eating away at the scar tissue zig zagging across his chest and that was not okay. He was almost too busy being upset about the sensation of a ghost shrimp copping a feel to be upset about Ginko suggesting he dump some mysterious fucking powder down his shirt.
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He shifted a little to stand more comfortably, remembering after a moment not to lean against the well. Sometimes he didn't bother asking about all the references JW made on a regular basis; if he asked for clarification on every single one, they probably wouldn't talk about much else. But this sounded kind of important.
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Uh oh. Now he has to explain movies. But it's only one thing right now. The world-walker ran his fingers through his hair. He could do this. "Well, it's like a slide show...but there are so many slides that it looks like things are moving in real time. Folks use 'em to tell stories and hundreds and hundreds of people go to see them every day."
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JW was slightly envious of Ginko. He'd never been subjected to The Matrix. If James could erase one movie from existence, it would be that one.
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In Deuteronomy's defense, she was not activly rotting.
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Ah.
"Usually, it's something people are born with - though it can take a few years for them to actually start seeing mushi, in some cases."
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"That's a shame. I'd like to see 'em...what do they look like?"
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"...this one looks a little like a shrimp, but with more legs."
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He squinted into the space where Ginko seemed to be looking. He squinted hard and concentrated, but couldn't see so much as a ripple in the air. It was so weird being the one who couldn't see the Other. It was inconvenient and made him feel put-out and a little stupid...but it was also exciting. He had to go on Ginko's word because so far nothing had actually harmed JW. It could all be fake, a controlling lie, or a hallucination on Ginko's part. But he was so strange-looking and everyone in town knew him. Just like him.
And JW was determined to do better than the people of Hawksaw.
"A shrimp, huh...so what's the shrimp one? What's it's whole deal-e-o? Is it going to live in my teeth or make me turn inside out if I whistle the wrong note at it?"
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"No. These are pretty harmless; they just eat shed hair and dead skin." He let the mushi tap its way across his hand, its segmented mouth tickling at his skin.
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He'd only been here perhaps an hour and he'd already gotten Ginko to laugh. Either he was getting better at this or it really was a dumb assumption.
"Sounds like carpet beetles..."
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Normally, he wasn't in the practice of just handing mushi to people, but, like he had said, this one was harmless.
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"Why not?"
It was hard not to fill silly cupping his hands and waiting for some unseen thing to crawl into it. Suddenly, every hair on his arms, wrapped or not, stood on end. Was he going to feel it biting the dead skin on his fingers? Never had he in his life had any kind of aversion to creepy crawlies, even the ungodly number of spiders in his grandfather's attic, but he suddenly found himself Very Worried.
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Ginko nudged the creature gently into JW's hands; it went without protest, content to wander from one source of skin to another. JW wouldn't feel much more than a slight tickling as the mushi meandered across his hands, picking at bits of dead skin as it went.
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"Oh God."
He didn't want to move. He didn't want it to fly off and BE WHERE HE COULDN'T SEE IT but he also wasn't sure just how keen he was on the tickling sensation. It made him want to jerk his hands and rub them against something but what if that squished it?
He was trapped.
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"Alright, just hold still. It should come right back out your collar. Probably."
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"Aah!" He shrugs his backpack off onto the snowy ground and then he finally stops moving, shoulders around his ears, arms out like a scarecrow. "It's eating my scar tissue!"
This was not how he'd wanted this to go at all.
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Ginko, that did not sound all that encouraging. He grabbed his own pack again and swung it open again, tugging out a small packet of powder and tipping a tiny bit into his hand. "I need you to tell me where the mushi is, and this stuff should chase it out."
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Arms? Sure. Face? Okay. But the thing was eating away at the scar tissue zig zagging across his chest and that was not okay. He was almost too busy being upset about the sensation of a ghost shrimp copping a feel to be upset about Ginko suggesting he dump some mysterious fucking powder down his shirt.
"If I swat it, will it die?"
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