Ancestral Longing [Irvine Work Thread]

“…you want me to do what, again?”
It was, indisputably, the worst when this stuff happened. Sometimes, it would slip out to people that he – or maybe one of his friends, you know, share the misfortune amongst all of them - was able to talk to spirits. See them, say hello, ask them about their day. Sometimes, the people that found out were of a similar culture to that of Charnel, leading to some very interesting conversations about the nature of their relationship to the dead and the way that the ethereal had come to be a part of their daily lives while they lived there.

“I need to talk with my father! You’re a medium! I just want to hear from him once more!”
And then, there were these people, who thought he was one of those goddamn cheap hucksters that made their cash on grieving families and broken dreams. He’d never heard of a séance before he’d come to Junction, and at the moment, he wished he never had. The one pleading with him now was some sort of equine-featured centipede, and he had no idea whether or not it was male or female…or hell, if they even had genders like that, knowing some of Junction’s species. It was calling the guy father, but the way the translation here worked, all he could be sure of was that this was some sort of parental figure.
Irvine narrows his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you expect from me, but I’m pretty sure you’re not getting it. I’m not a miracle worker, I don’t call down people from heaven, and I really don’t like playing with the hopes of people that just want to see those they care about again. I can’t let you hear them, and I don’t even know if they’re still around.”

The…person, sputters, a pleading look in its compound eyes. “I…look, they were the only one who knew where a family heirloom was. I don’t want to bug you about this, but it’s important. We live and die by our ancestry. We...wouldn’t be able to endure the shame if it was not found.” Innumerable hooved legs ripple in waves as they tap against the ground nervously, the anxious as a horse-bug can be. “I just need you to try. Please. That’s all I’m asking for.”

He wanted to say no. He’d done it enough. Had to, really, to preserve his integrity. But this was something he might be able to do, and he couldn't find it in him to refuse.
Not while being someone he'd want to be.
“…what do they look like, what am I looking for, and what do you believe happens when you die?”
They gape for a moment, before passing forward a photo with an overjoyed whinny. “This! This is him! He had our Earthing Blade. You see…”

They…weren’t kidding when they said they lived and died by it.
So, apparently, back home dying of old age was a grave sin, and if that happened, you would be doomed to wither and rot in the afterlife.
The afterlife. Such a weird idea. Going to someplace else when you died, rather than hanging around. It was so strange to get used to, but they had to have them, otherwise this place wouldn’t be so lacking in spirits.
This was the exact opposite of a ghost town…and he should know, he’d been to actual ghost towns, rather than the abandoned excuses for rundown crapholes they called ghost towns here.
Getting off topic. So, rather than die like that, they ritually disembowelled themselves when their time was approaching, using an earthenware blade that got passed down to generation to generation. By dying that way, they could join the planet anew, ready to be reborn.
It was a weird version of the reincarnation thing that so many folks seemed to put their faith in, but he was hardly about to judge. Kind of interesting.
So now he was down in the residences of the Middle Ward to talk to a bug’s dead dad, in order to make sure that they wouldn’t suffer for eternity.

Looking around at some of his own host he’d brought with him, he gestures for them to go on with the plan he was actually banking on working, and turns his attention back to Ala’kh Beir, as they were apparently called. “Alright. We’re here. So run me through this. Not seeing anything now, so show me your pop’s old haunts.”
Chittering sounds mark the urgency of the horsipede.  “Of course, of course! This way!”
It started with what was essentially the grand tour of his home, hearing that “This was their favourite chair,” or “They sat by the window here,” and “I used to play Marakti with them on this board. I never could beat them…”
It felt like this person just wanted to invite someone else into his life, to show him what used to be. For all it was important to their traditions he find this blade…in some ways, him just being here for them to gush about their past was far more important to them than that ever was.
So he took an interest in a dead bug’s life, and Beir was all too happy to share.

He’d gone on the full tour when he finally had to sigh and shake his head. “…I’m sorry, man. I haven’t seen your dad here anywhere.”
“I…I see.” He’d never seen something with compound eyes cry, yet here it was before him, overworked eyelids working to wipe away the shimmering layer atop the sectoid orbs.  “I-I’m sorry. You didn’t have to. This was just a waste of…” Ala’kh fails to hold themself together any longer, and breaks down in braying sobs.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Confused, Beir looks up, to be astonished as they see their Earthing Blade floating through the air. “May not have found your dad, but we still managed to turn up the heirloom. It was…ah, buried in the garden of one of your neighbours.”
The look Irvine receives as he hands back a piece of this person’s tradition was one of gratitude, but still sad all the same. They’d found something dear again, but still lost something else.
This is why he usually didn’t do this.
It didn’t give them what they really wanted in the end.
When you lived on a world unlike Charnel…you had to let go eventually.

He starts to leave when he finds Ala’kh gripping his arm. The segmented joints they gripped with were hard, but the grip itself was soft and weak. “What is it? There something else?”
They nod, eyes still shimmering. “Here.” Irvine finds a sum of cash being pressed into his hands.  “Take this. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
He felt uncomfortable. “I can’t make you pay for this…this is-“
”No. I have to do this. Really.” The chittering from Ala’kh became more pronounced. ”You’ve done me a great service in recovering this. We cannot allow such deed to go unrepaid.”
That didn’t make him more comfortable with this situation.
Now he had to take this money for something he would never charge someone for. It was on their honour if he did not.

”Alright then. If you insist.” He gave a nod and an easy grin as he pocketed the money and waved them off. “Hope things go well for you, buddy Beir!”

…the grin didn’t last once he was out of sight.
He got what he was asked to find for them, but he still never got them what they really wanted.