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 Ghost, the Ghost of Tyra Karn, calls it: "I've been thinking about it, and I really do think it would be worthwhile for you to learn the basics of narrative composition. Sit down, we're doing this now."
+==Difference of Opinion==
+[[Peregrine Institute of Higher]] Learning Presents:
+"Ghost Stories: Interviews with Two Ghosts of the Traveler"
+A guest lecture by two Guardian-less Ghosts about life, Light, and the search for their Guardians<br>
+Featuring: [[Balthazar]] (unpartnered) and [[Peach]] (unpartnered)
+Transcript of the Q&A session is as follows:
+Q: What is the Traveler, in your understanding?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Great question.<br>
+PEACH: Terrible question.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: In a sense, it's the ONLY question. The Traveler is our primary, our mother, the primordial and the pinnacle. A dear friend, the Ghost of [[Pujari]], once compared the Traveler to a song that has never been sung—<br>
+PEACH: Look, the answer no one likes to give is that no one knows what the Traveler is or anything about it. Not even us.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: We know she wished for us to raise Guardians to be her avatars and defenders—<br>
+PEACH: Do we, though? Just because we CAN do that doesn't mean we were MADE to do that. And who says it's a "she" anyway? Why does "it" need a gender?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: The Traveler, in her omniscient wisdom, looked into the past and the future, and from all the generations that emerged from the cradle of Earth, she chose the best of them to be her champions. Each Ghost was lovingly and carefully created for their one true Guardian. The Ghost and Guardian complete each other.<br>
+PEACH: If that's true, then the Traveler's kind of a jerk.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Excuse me?<br>
+PEACH: Look, I know tons of Ghosts who died before they ever found their Guardians. I know some Ghosts who still haven't found a Guardian. You haven't. And I haven't, but I don't think I'm "incomplete" because of it.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: I have the humility to recognize my own shortcomings and to submit myself to the Traveler's plan.
+Q: Do you remember being inside the Traveler?<br>
+PEACH: No.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: I do. We call it the Womb.<br>
+PEACH: I have never and will never call it that.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Imagine a cosmos inside a bottle. Trillions of stars orbiting each other in a complex weave. But they aren't stars. Perhaps a better word would be… souls. Souls, dancing in an infinite space enclosed within a celestial egg.<br>
+PEACH: Which is it, an egg or a womb?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: It's called a metaphor.<br>
+PEACH: Well then, pick a metaphor. Not twelve.<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Well, what would you call it?<br>
+PEACH: I wouldn't call it anything, because I don't remember it, and I don't think you do either.
+Q: Some people say that each Ghost is an aspect of the Traveler—that is to say, that each Ghost represents a part of the divine Whole.<br>
+PEACH: [loud laughter]<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Would you please? This is unbecoming.<br>
+PEACH: First of all, that wasn't a question. Second of all… [more laughter] Third of all: if I'm a part of the Traveler's brain or soul or whatever, then the Traveler sure isn't divine, I'll tell you that much.
+Q: What will you do if you never find a Guardian?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: I shall find a Guardian. The Traveler has willed it so.<br>
+PEACH: Did you get that in writing?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: It is true that some Ghosts die before finding their partners. If that happens to me, then I suppose I will "do" nothing, since I will no longer be. But I have faith.<br>
+PEACH: If I never find my Guardian, I'll go steal someone else's. I hear Sagira had a good time with that.
+Q: If you could eat, what would you eat first?<br>
+PEACH: Finally, a good question!<br>
+BALTHAZAR: We do not know the desire for food. Our semicorporeal form—<br>
+PEACH: Nectarines. Or hot sauce. Ooh, or crickets. Crunchy roasted crickets. Crunchy food sounds so fun. I wish I could get cricket carapace stuck between my teeth. Here's a question for YOU: what's it like to have teeth?<br>
+BALTHAZAR: Is this over yet?
+==Protector of Ghosts==
+From: [[Micah-10]]
+To: [[Tallulah Fairwind]]
+Category: 5-sat bounce
+Priority: 3
+Hello, old friend:
+I have a knack for finding Hunters. Another of my little pack has found her partner, a Human male, and now the two of them are coming to you by watercraft over the Pacific. Keep an eye on this one, Tallu. He has taken the name [[Andal Brask]], and I believe he will be trouble.
+Perhaps all this travel has made me sentimental, for when one of my Ghost wards finds their Guardian, I am sad, because my pack grows smaller. I miss them when they are gone. Now I am down to one Ghost other than my own. [[Pup]], we call him. The runt of my metallic litter. Pup has yet to speak, but always his little blue eye searches for his Guardian.
+I plan to resupply at the [[Cosmodrome]] and then take Pup north. Those steppes are uncharted territory, except by that lone wolf, [[Conar]]. My correspondence with him is regular in the outbound direction; I consider myself lucky when he answers every fifth message. Still, you and I both know his intel is good. No one else knows Old Russia like he does.
+Perhaps in the Cosmodrome I will find a ship capable of breaking atmosphere. Though there is much of this Earth I have yet to see, I have come across more than a few Ghosts who believe their Guardians are offworld, waiting in the Golden Age ruins of Freehold and Ishtar and beyond. Some of these little Lights have decided to brave the null on their own to reach their fated partners. I tell them there's still so much of Earth we've yet to sniff out, that perhaps their Guardians have not yet been born, but some of them are convinced. If my next Ghost pack wants to make the journey, I am determined to join them.
+These last few months we've enjoyed the pleasant absence of Cyrell. Now I feel more confident that we lost him in Australis. If he tries to hurt my Ghosts, I will rip his throat out.
+I hope you're not feeling too cooped up. You're still doing good work, Tallu. And as they say, better you than me.
+Your Faithful Den-Mother-of-Ghosts,<br>
+Micah-10
+==Savin==
+I am searching. I am close; I can feel that I am close.
+What will my Risen be like? Will she be honorable? Will she be a brute?
+I should be able to tell, shouldn't I? I don't know. I don't know that it matters. I have been searching since the day that I was born. I will take anyone.
+I crest a dune. The Gobi is endless in the evening light. And then I see it: a burnt-out building, the only man-made structure for miles. I do not know whether to fly faster or keep a stately pace. It doesn't matter. The dead cannot see.
+I am nervous. Why am I nervous?
+As I draw closer, I rehearse what I might say. First introductions are important. "You are a child of the Traveler's Light," I say to myself. "You have been chosen in defense of this solar system… No. No. Hm. You… We are both children of the Traveler. You and I are both children of…"
+I forget my words as I slip into the building. I find meteorological equipment. I find an empty office. I find a dingy breakroom. At the back of the breakroom, I see my other half: a Fallen Vandal crushed beneath a toppled refrigerator.
+I am devastated. I have seen the Fallen. They are butchers. Castaway murderers. I would take anyone, but not this. Not this thing.
+I turn away. I count seventeen slow laps around the room and then another four around the building. I should be decisive, shouldn't I? I should be filled with pride that I have fulfilled my first purpose. I am not. It doesn't matter. I cannot ignore the pull.
+I return to the breakroom. I do not know what I will say, but—Fallen or no—it is the Traveler's will that I do this. I reach toward the Light, then reach toward that pull to join them together.
+The refrigerator trembles as the Light suffuses him. I hear a low groan. "Push it away," I whisper. If my Risen dies beneath this refrigerator and I fly away into the sun, no one will know. Perhaps I will have done the Earth a great service. "I'm here with you, but you must help yourself. Push it away and sit up."
+The refrigerator shifts, then topples to the side. An Awoken man sits up and pushes the dead Vandal off his chest like an unwelcome blanket on a hot summer night. With effort, he wiggles free and stands straight.
+"Who are you?" he asks. He looks around, then down at his blue hands. "What am I?"
+"I am your Ghost," I say with more than a hint of obvious relief. "You are one of the Traveler's Chosen, a defender of humanity. What is your name?"
+He flexes his fingers, works his jaw, blows a raspberry. Then he looks at me. "[[Savin]]. Yes, I think I call myself Savin." He nods, satisfied. "Let's go, [[Yourghost]]."
 ==Pulled Pork==