Ever since he rescued Avram's daughter Raishe from almost being sacrificed by the followers (or whoever they were) of the spooky-masked-face-claims-she's-a-Kitsune Amaranth, Francisco has been somewhat hesitant to return here. Yet so far when he has done recently, it's been during the daytime. But recently, he's been hearing stories about Amaranth being captured, and through sheer curiousity has to check this out personally.

It's late in the day, almost nighttime, and soon the light around the cemetary will be from the Procession above, a few sparse oil lamps from distant streets and the Babelite Embassy not far away, but receeding as the fox creeps further around the tombs and stones, his black mage's cloak wrapped tightly around him.

Francisco's moves into the cemetary are slow and cautious. Part of him believes the rumor, the other… well, he is just glad for once that he's wearing dark apparel.

Tall statues stare down at the vulpine that passes beneath their lifeless gaze. Just as many are broken and faceless. Monuments to persons of many races, persons long-forgotten, stand and fare badly against the ravages of time. The layout of the cemetary is a jumble … while some of the cenotaphs and memorials are laid out in a way that suggests an early attention to order, there are plenty of other gravestones and memorials that seem to be squeezed into any available space … perhaps even over the graves of other, previous "residents". With so many crumbling stones and the occasional stubborn tree struggling to grow, it makes the path uneven for the fox, requiring occasional scrambling over the blocks and rubble.

A bat-like chibix shrieks, fluttering out of the broken mausoleum that was its resting place until being startled by the intruder. The chitinous, hunchbacked creature flaps about, clumsily smacking into a statue of what might be a human female, before winging away into the gloom.

Jumping a little at the noise, the Kitsune crouches down behind some stones, waiting and watching carefully for what made the noise, and if it's still around. Once sure that it's safe, he slowly resumes his search - hoping, of course, to find nothing.

For a long time, that's precisely what Francisco finds. Nothing. Twilight passes on into nightfall. The long shadows just become one single, all-pervasive shadow, and the mists start rolling in.

Pulling his cloak around him more, Francisco still continues onwards. He's not sure if the shiver that ran through him was because the way the mist is acting is like old stereotypical television programmes back home, something sinister, or just mere coincidence.

"Konban wa, Francisco-san," says a female voice from the shadows.

The Kitsune's ears prick up at the sound of the voice, then lay back a little. He stays silent for the moment, trying to work out which way the voice came from.

The voice is impossible to place. Magic is probably at work here.

Francisco keeps silent for the moment, and moves a little closer towards a nearby stone, watching for any sign of the source of the voice still.

"What brings you here, Francisco-san?" says the voice again, using a language Francisco has not heard anyone else use on this world – the language of the homeland of his people. "Surely you know there's nothing left to find."

The Kitsune feels that chill run down him again. He pauses his movement by a convenient tombstone. Oh well, he muses to himself, I did walk into this. "Why don't you show yourself?" he finally calls out, asking.

"What if there is nothing left to show?" responds the voice. "What if I am but a disembodied spirit, incapable of manifesting myself, now that my body has been robbed from me? What if … " There's a chill wind that blows Francisco's fur … as if someone unseen were rushing past him. "… I need another?"

"Why?" asks the fox. "Why is it that you have this… fascination about bodies? What happened to you?"

"I was robbed of my powers," says the spirit. "I am trapped on this cursed world. I regained my power … but lost my body in the process. Over time, I have gathered strength. I have possessed weak, interim bodies. Now I am ready for that cycle to end. I need but one worthy vessel, and I shall live again."

"Well," Francisco notes, "I can kind of sympathise with that there. My predicament is similar. Though this world is not as bad as you make it out to be."

Francisco continues, "Also, what would you do if you got a … worthy vessel?"

"I would live again," says the spirit. "And I would be eternally grateful to anyone who helped me toward this end. I am a Kitsune, after all. My word is my bond. And a favor is never forgotten."

"'Eternally grateful'?" The gray fox chuckles dryly. "Meaning what, exactly? That they don't have to die for you to live?"

"Alas, not necessarily. Although I am perfectly capable of using a recently dead body. I needn't deprive a living host of its last breath," says the voice. "No, what I refer to is that if one were to help me locate such a vessel, I would consider it only fair to repay such favors in kind to the best of my abilities … to the extent of my powers … which would be far greater in life than in … my present state."

Francisco shakes his head. "You're talking about an Avatar. You do realiase that unless your chosen… avatar… has magical abilities of their own, your own powers will be greatly reduced?"

"If you are, as you claim to be, a Kitsune," he adds.

There is a silence, and then the spirit responds, "But greater than what I was allowed in life here."

"You seem awfully sure," Francisco says. "You didn't know many Kitsune who relied on an Avatar, did you?"

"What would you know, Francisco-san? Does the idea of floating around as a disembodied spirit appeal to you?" the spirit says in a mocking tone of voice.

Francisco pauses for a moment. "No," he replies. "I do not believe I would wish that upon a Kitsune."

"However," he goes on, "I doubt I could help you either."

"I don't need much," says the spirit. "Just a body. There are many options. Perhaps some low-life. Some criminal from Darkside. Perhaps some dead street-walker found in the gutter. I'm not picky."

One of the statues in the graveyard seems to focus its empty eyes on Francisco. "I could even share."

"A low-life or criminal? That's hardly fitting for a Kitsune," the robed fox comments.

"And yes, you mentioned already about it being possible for you to … share a body," Francisco says. "I'd have to see it to believe it."

"Then get me the body of a spotless, perfect vixen full of virtue! Come now!" the spirit hisses. "What world ARE you from? If you hold all our kind up to such high standards, then what do you think of those who banished you here?"

Francisco shrugs slightly. "I think they overreacted slightly, but then what can you expect from nine-tails?"

"What exactly," says the voice, much quieter now. "So … have you any ideas to propose, Francisco-san?"

"Find your own 'body'?" suggests the gray fox.

"Very funny," whispers the voice.

"No, really," says Francisco. "Why can't you? Surely a spirit would find it easy to just move about everywhere unrestricted."

"Maybe you would like to try," hisses the voice.

Francisco tilts his head a little. "How?" he asks.

"Are you that dense," hisses the voice, "that you can't recognize a thinly veiled threat when you hear one?"

Francisco folds his arms in front of his cloak. "Well, if you're going to be like that, perhaps I should go. Or, you could answer my question. Why can't you search yourself?"

"Perhaps I am bound to this Cemetary, the place where my mortal life was taken. Perhaps spirits do not roam as freely on this world as they do on ours," whispers the voice.

"Taken?" Francisco asks. "By whom?"

"By despair. By hopelessness," hisses the voice. "By this world that robs us of the powers rightfully ours. We are Kitsune. It is not for us to mumble gibberish and wave our hands to make illusions."

"This world robs us of powers?" the gray fox asks. "And there's nothing wrong with illusions. A fair number of things Kitsune do is primarily based out of illusion."

"Well then, small consolation to one without hands," whispers a voice from the gloom.

"You know, you have a knack of avoiding answering my questions," comments Francisco.

"Is that unusual for a Kitsune?" replies the disembodied voice.

"Well, yes – considering your… predicament," replies the five-tailed fox.

Francisco adds, "And as I said, I could just leave still."

"And you could have never come at all," whispers the voice. "Small difference to me, since you have no intent of aiding me, Francisco-san."

Francisco says, "Hard to consider aiding someone when they aren't all that forthcoming."

"And what is there to tell you? You tire me with your presence, Five-Tail. Name your price, and you shall have it when you deliver a suitable vessel to me. Or leave and know that my curse will be on your back, when I come into another avatar, and that I will be looking for you," the voice hisses, a cold wind ruffling the fur on Francisco's face.

"Not a lot of options there, are there?" Francisco says, shrugging a little. "Can't say I fancy a curse much, but at the same time, I really don't think I could bring such a 'vessel' to you. So what does that leave, huh?"

"Nothing much," sighs the voice. "Not unless there is some favor you should desire of me that I should perform in proof of my honor, in exchange for your promise of aid."

Francisco considers… "What was that you mentioned about 'sharing' again? How would that work with a Kitsune?" he asks. Then adds, "Just curious."

A cool breeze brushes against Francisco's cheek. "It would require a willing vessel. And it would be only slightly more tolerable than my present condition. After all … I would then be bound to go wherever you go."

The gray fox uh-huhs and nods. "And what else?"

"Do you have any more catches to propose?" the voice whispers. "I'm not one to turn down fringe benefits."

Francisco says, "Well, let's just say I'd want an assurance that you would just be… a passenger. For now."

"You have my assurance, then," whispers the voice. "Your arms shall be your arms. Your legs … your legs. I shall be but a spirit being ferried about the land of the living, Francisco-san."

The gray fox tilts his head slightly, contemplating a decision. After a moment, he gives his reply: "Very well, then."

A tingle runs through the gray fox's form. "Oregato gozaimasu, Francisco-san," the voice whispers … and then it dies away into the sound of the breezes stirring up the mists of the cemetary.

"You're welcome," Francisco replies. Then pauses. He half expected something else to happen.

The evening breezes stir up the mists that collect around the feet of the kitsune, then fade away, letting the low-hanging fog coalesce once more. No voices whisper from the shadows.

After waiting for a moment, Francisco turns around and starts to pick his way out of the cemetary, occasionally looking over his shoulder.

Another breeze washes past the Kitsune. It almost sounds like laughter in the distance, and a cold sensation feels like a light kiss upon his nose. But that is all. The Kitsune finds his way out of the Cemetary without opposition. No zombies, no ghosts, no ghouls, no monsters. Nothing but the occasional tumble of stones or a pit to be wary of.

Francisco continues onwards back towards the street lights, and then back home and shrugs to himself. Yet again, he feels like he's left with more questions than answers.