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Isaac Higgintoot has been dead for four years now, going on five. It’s not the most exciting position to be in.
Sasappis is… nice, for a supposed savage. He doesn’t really seem all that savage next to the Viking, to be honest. In fact, he’s more like a buffer, between Thorfinn and other ghosts Isaac refuses to mention by name.
He legitimately praises the pedestal Sasappis sits on for withstanding the wild unpredictability of the man. He was unhinged and more murderous than any of the war torn soldiers Isaac led. Frankly, frightening. Which is where Sasappis came in.
Thorfinn only listened to Sasappis and, at that, only when he felt like it. Thank god Thorfinn was susceptible to the Native’s requests, otherwise Isaac worried what a hectic scene this ghostly plane would be. Whenever or however Sasappis and Thorfinn came to share this space, Isaac was just glad he hadn’t been there for the initial meet.
He also soon realized they were kind of assholes. For one, they didn’t tell him about the living-through-ghost-hurts deal. For another, they got a bigger kick over learning Isaac’s apparent ghost power. It was humiliating.
Even more aggravating was that Thorfinn was believably dense enough for Isaac to understand Sasappis as the mastermind behind their omission-earned amusement. Still, as weird and frustrating as the two could be, Isaac supposed there was much worse people to spend eternity with.
Like Alexander Hamilton.
Anyway, it was obvious there was some sort of reliance between the two. Something with being alone together for a long time or maybe seeing all sorts of ghosts appear and move on. However it resulted from, Isaac knew they genuinely didn’t mean any harm.
“Ha! Small man cut himself with own weapon!” Thorfinn could be heard across an acreage if he wanted to be. His exuberance was incorrigible at the best of times and infuriating at the worst.
“Is he always that loud?” He asks Sasappis. The man seemed relieved by another intelligent presence and spent a lot of time talking to him, after Isaac got used to the idea of being dead and stuck here for eternity. If you call resignation being used to something.
“Yep. Always. You’ll get used to it.”
“Seems like I’m getting used to a lot of things recently.” He responds huffily, leaning his chin on his hand.
Sasappis sighs. A moment of silence makes Isaac look at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s facing the direction Thorfinn’s voice came from—invisible via tent—with an odd, disquieted expression.
“When I first became a ghost, it was a lot worse.” He begins carefully, fidgeting with one of the many tassels on his hide clothing.
Isaac bites his tongue. He hasn’t been willing to ask but he’s wanted to know what they knew, of him and before the war.
Sasappis clears his throat, “Thor was alone a long time before I stayed. I never asked too much but it was obvious by the nightmares that there was more to it.”
“Yes, I’ve heard those.” Isaac shivers, recalling the gibberish language bellowed into the night. “I didn’t know you knew what he was saying.”
“I don’t. But after I died, we shared a wigwam for some time. That’s a wooden hut my people make for shelter.” He explicates at Isaac’s confusion. “Anyway, most of them I don’t understand at all, but the way he said things and how he’d act afterwards gave me a couple hints.”
“How long is a long time?”
Sasappis shrugs half-heartedly, “Five hundred years, give or take. He saw the first of my people settle here.”
Isaac gasps, can’t help it. Sasappis mentioned being here for centuries but to hear of Thorfinn’s own length of time? Preposterous.
“That’s- wow. That’s horrible. And he was alone? All that time?” Isaac looks to the tent the shout had come from, distantly recognizing Thorfinn’s boisterous laughing. It was a wonder he was so jovial.
“That’s what I’ve gathered. If there were any other ghosts before me, he doesn’t talk about it.”
“That’s why he’s so dependent on you.” Isaac turns back to studying the rippling lake with a heavy breath of subsequent understanding, missing Sasappis cheeks flushing.
“What?!”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Isaac scoffs. “He’s overwhelming to everyone here except you.”
“Well, of course he is. I’m used to it,” Sasappis frowns.
“Sasappis,” he starts solemnly, “Thorfinn doesn’t listen to a word I say. And I am—was—a captain of the revolution!”
“That’s because he doesn’t know you. He’s not… dependent… on me.” Sasappis turns the other way, like he’s unable to face the conversation head on.
“He relies on you to be the buffer between him and I. That’s why he hasn’t come over here. If you haven’t noticed, he’s quite terrifying.”
“Yeah, I heard you scream.” There’s a grin in Sasappis’ tone. Isaac privately suspects he told Thorfinn to be the first to approach him just for the sake of amusement.
“You were there,” Isaac deadpans. “What I’m saying is, he looks to you for direction. As you’ve just told me now, he was wandering aimlessly alone for who-knows-how long… until you came.”
Sasappis crosses his arms, a form of useless protection against the topic they’ve unwittingly stumbled on. It’s not like he didn’t notice Thorfinn’s friendliness to him. It’s been built up over time after so many awkward silences. They tell each other what’s going on on opposite sides of the boundary, they sleep in semi-near proximity (thank goodness not needing to share a wigwam anymore), and then… this. It was unprecedented: Thorfinn stepping back from the new arrivals and letting Sasappis take the lead.
It was Thorfinn who showed him the ropes originally and now he is letting Sass have the reins. Maybe the big guy is dependent on him.
“I… I never thought of that.”
“No wonder,” Isaac rolls his eyes. “You purposely rile him up for a reaction, assuming it’s because of boredom, and yet Thor always returns without beheading you. And I’ve heard you say some nasty things.”
Sasappis’ fingers tighten on his biceps. Being bored was mania in this dark purgatory but it’s unsettling to hear of his and Thor’s relationship from an outside perspective. Maybe he can be a little mean but Thorfinn makes up for that by being ornery. It’s a give and take.