allthekeys (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
allthekeys) wrote2012-05-11 10:51 pm
allthekeys) wrote2012-05-11 10:51 pm
Entry tags:
Midnight Update
As midnight approaches the storm seems to grow closer, thunder crackling through the house and drowning out the sound of construction. The first rain drops begin to fall as the bells in the tower ring, fat and heavy and icy cold in the early spring darkness. Anyone entering the Open Hallway will find themselves soaked through within moments of stepping outside, tossed around by the intense wind as they brave the elements.
As the last chime of midnight sounds everyone will find themselves falling asleep, as frustrating and ill-timed as that must seem to them.
Any parent within the house will dream of the day their first child was born, regardless of if they were there at the time. Expectant parents and parents who do not know or have never met their children may be surprised to find this includes them, although the memory is highly idealized for everyone involved and includes their partner. In contrast to the danger of the house this moment feels perfect, safe.
Any child in the house, meaning any person under the age of eighteen, will dream a different dream. It's one of their own near perfect moment in early childhood, both of their parents present even if the child does not know their parents or has no real fond feelings for them. In the case of adoption, the child will dream of their adopted parents, not their birth parents.
Deep in sleep, the entire house will feel the chill that the sensitive so often suffer grip them, thick and congealing as the dream begins. For those already dreaming it will seem to hesitate, paused -- and for those entering it seems to stutter before it plays out. It's as though someone is trying to interfere with their dream, to keep them from seeing what they're about to see.
A woman is sobbing, a baby clutched as tightly in her arms as she can manage. The cell she sits within is unnervingly bright, and those who have been through the experiments will easily recognize it as one they have been in before. The Phantasms are not present, but this is obviously their place.
She holds the baby close enough that it cannot be seen, though its crying and fussing can clearly be heard as it struggles within the circle of her arms. She hums constantly, rocking the child as she cries with it, seeming momentarily unable to verbalize any comfort from within her own overwhelming flurry of emotion.
The infant does not settle, though, and she seems to fear her child might be taken away, ripped from her arms again. For it is very clearly her child, if the strain of her anguish and her tears are anything to go by. Her desperation finally causes her to speak, voice strained and croaky from her helpless sobbing, quiet and soothing as she can manage in the limited privacy of her cell. So much so that the dream might feel invasive in this moment of vulnerability.
"Shh, my angel, my little angel, don't cry. Don't cry. It's over now, my baby. Shhhh. I'm here, I'm here. I won't let them take you away from me. Shhh."
Her broken chanting lingers in the minds of the house guests as they awaken from the dream, disconcerting for those with children of their own. The desire to check on them grows, and affects even the parents whose children are not present in the house.
Guests altered into a rage by the experiments this night who have managed not yet to die will feel another sharp pain in their stomachs, almost as though something has stabbed them. As they awaken they begin to cough, and those who have managed to regain some semblance of self will find that they recognize the taste of blood in their mouths. There is the feel of something pressed against their tongues, nearly triggering their gag reflex -- though anyone who checks will find nothing in their mouths. The coughing continues until something living drops free of their mouths, writhing away before they have a chance to smash it. It looks like a bug, segmented carapace dark with blood. The feral rage fades, but the pain remains. The hellhounds will not be attracted to any injury they receive tonight.
As the mothers slowly regain consciousness they will find that a gift has been left for them while they sleep; a small box of chocolates, a small bouquet of flowers, and a small box that looks like it came from an up-scale jeweller. The box contains a tiny heart shaped pendent with the birthstone for each of their children in it, regardless of their presence within the house.
There isn't long for everyone to once more find their bearings and start to get their feet under themselves to face the rest of the night. Soon the Phantasms appear, surrounding and taking each of the marked from the house. There will be no use in struggling, these terrifying figures cannot be touched or harmed, and seem completely devoted to their purpose. No matter how the victims struggle, they shall be taken.
The experiments have begun.
Through the heavy rain and the sound of the storm, anyone in the Second House will still be able to hear that the screaming man has not halted, his shrieks of agony breaking off into choked sobs from time to time, throat raw from screaming over the storm.
In the Blank Library the woman has shifted to the floor by one of the bookcases, fingers buried in her hair and knees drawn to her chest as though she has taken some fright. Her eyes do not move from the door, face pale and stark as the lightning illuminates the room. She hunches each time the thunder shakes the house. She will not move for several hours, hunched and hidden away from whatever has frightened her.
In the Ballroom, the Piano Player's music is beginning a subtle and steady shift. Rather than the earlier waltz tune the music emerging now is faster, has a driving beat not unlike a heart racing in terror. The sound is chaotic and discordant, almost manic as it grows increasingly louder, and seems to swell with undertones of darkness so close to the surface they can nearly be tasted. It flows and changes moment by moment, though the air of mounting imminent danger never leaves. The Dancers follow this music's lead, becoming increasingly erratic and frenzied; the rest of the accompanying musicians struggle desperately to keep pace.
Caught in the melody's power, the sheer speed and force of such a mad dance begins to break the Dancers apart. Flesh tears, bones break, and spines snap, but still they dance--their bodies heal almost as quickly as they're being destroyed, only to come back wrong, changed. Wings, fangs, claws, scales, hooves--all that and more twists the Dancers as the night progresses.
As the night wanes and dawn draws nearer, the accompanying musicians abandon all efforts to follow the tune, and even the Piano Player's fingers settle deathly still over the keys; in the wake of this silence, the Dancers begin to make their own music. It arises slowly, even as the last notes of the piano echo and die in the chamber; the Ballroom soon fills instead with shrieks and sobs and hysterical laughter, ebbing and flowing to much the same twisted rhythm that the Piano Player had tried so hard to follow. Their mingled cries intertwine with the sound of snapping bones and pounding feet, with broken voices screamed hoarse and lungs rattling in wet, sickly gasps for a struggle to draw breath.
The song is pervasive, and few in the house will be able to get far enough away to escape it.
As midnight wanes on the Day Room party finally makes a move. A hellhound on a circuit patrol stops by their doorway and observes as one minute they are there and the next, gone. It seems to check for stragglers before it paces across and noses open the door of the Sewing Room. Within, the once quiet location has been taken over. Although the hellhound stays sat in the doorway, seemingly acting as a guard and unwilling to move or let people enter, anyone who peeks past it will quickly realize work is being done. The room has become a temporary workshop, frozen in time while anyone watches but moving quickly enough that the moment you glance away and back everything will be re-arranged. Mannequins, statues, fairy figures and even the frog appear to be joining in. Their work is unnaturally fast, strings of small armbands piling up and doll parts separated and rejoined in unnatural ways. In the midst of it all, the regal doll clad in pink seems to be overseeing the work patiently.
Whoever was holding the baby Nicolas in the first house will find that he has vanished when they wake. Orihime in the second house will wake with the child carefully tucked into her arms.
The baby rescued from the Backstage area is awake, hand tucked against his face. He seems to have taken no harm from his ordeal and will burble happily if either of his rescuers handle him. If anyone else attempts to take him he will start to cry. His cry serves as an unnerving counterpoint to the twisted music in the Ballroom and seems to cause the monsters in the house some distress, though none seems inclined to attack or approach him closely.
Though the houses remain split, some of the residents may find that they have again moved while they slept.
In the Greenhouse the fog dampens the noise of the storm and no rain seems to be falling. The two lost teenagers will begin to hear the sound of shod hooves on the dirt path as the last toll of the bell dies away in the distance. Very shortly, they might catch sight of a light bobbing in the darkness heading towards them.
In the Upper Hall of the First House the sound of chains has once again begun. Anyone wearing a chain of any sort will feel an uncomfortable tug upon entering the hall, though it does not seem strong enough to remove the object from their person.
In the Parlor the The Burning Man has stilled. Though it is difficult to tell, considering the relative state of his face, he seems almost sad. He will not move from the fireplace, half covered in the coals he inhabits, and will only attack anyone who makes a fresh flame.
In the Study there is movement in the Closed Closet. The sound of something clawing at the wall and slamming its body into the plaster is obvious to all who enter the room. Anyone getting close enough to listen will hear moaning from within, low and desperate. There seems to be no way to release it from its prison.
In the Mirror Bedroom the walls have started to distort, bubbling outwards and then snapping back, as though something seeks desperately to escape.
In the Wall Papered Parlor the Lady In White has sunk to her knees and does not seem at all inclined to move. Though her beauty still lures those who enter the room closer to her she seems almost like a bird that has fallen from the sky, dress spread around her in a waterfall of white fabric. More than ever she seems ill-suited for the dress and the role she plays.
Something seems to have suddenly come upon the ghost that inhabits the the Photography Bedroom, putting him in a volatile mood for as long as the chimes of midnight last. The Photographer's Ghost stirs suddenly into a nearly violent flurry, pacing the room and upturning whatever seems to be in his way -- or else whatever it is that he decides has slighted him. For the time, he seems unwilling to stay still or calm, and yet unable to ease himself.
By the time the chimes fade he has settled in front of the desk and is content to rest there for a moment. He takes the locket in his hands, preoccupied by it but periodically returning to his work on the camera. He remains distracted, and a little more irritable.
((ooc: House division lists as follows:
First House:
Abigail, Agito, Akito, Arthur, Ben, Bianchi, Cale, chaos, Chrome, Darcy, Davesprite, Dean, Dib, Don, Elena, Eli, Estella, G, Gabriel, Himawari, Kohaku, Laura, Lelouch, Leon, Lexaeus, Light, Liz, Marshall, Mary, Mukuro, Nate, Niall, Nina, Piper, Rachel, Rose, Roxas, Rune, Sephiroth, Shadow, Shisui, Shouichi, Silver, Spanner, Thor, Tim, Tino, Toboe, Tsuna, Vivien, Zion
Second House:
Ai, Alys, Anastasia, Arlen, Belphegor, Bobby, Byakuran, Claire, Cynder, Dino, Ed, Fran, Giotto, Gokudera, Homura, Jade, James, Jamie, John E, John W, Kari, Kate, Laufey, Legolas, Lily, Loki, Luke, Maia, Maurice, Misa, Mogget, Naoya, Orihime, Paige, Peter, Puss, Raven, Reborn, Reim, Reynard, Rick, Romano, Rufus, Sam, Shizuka, Shizuru, Sif, Sunny, Susan, Terezi, Zexion))
As the last chime of midnight sounds everyone will find themselves falling asleep, as frustrating and ill-timed as that must seem to them.
Any parent within the house will dream of the day their first child was born, regardless of if they were there at the time. Expectant parents and parents who do not know or have never met their children may be surprised to find this includes them, although the memory is highly idealized for everyone involved and includes their partner. In contrast to the danger of the house this moment feels perfect, safe.
Any child in the house, meaning any person under the age of eighteen, will dream a different dream. It's one of their own near perfect moment in early childhood, both of their parents present even if the child does not know their parents or has no real fond feelings for them. In the case of adoption, the child will dream of their adopted parents, not their birth parents.
Deep in sleep, the entire house will feel the chill that the sensitive so often suffer grip them, thick and congealing as the dream begins. For those already dreaming it will seem to hesitate, paused -- and for those entering it seems to stutter before it plays out. It's as though someone is trying to interfere with their dream, to keep them from seeing what they're about to see.
A woman is sobbing, a baby clutched as tightly in her arms as she can manage. The cell she sits within is unnervingly bright, and those who have been through the experiments will easily recognize it as one they have been in before. The Phantasms are not present, but this is obviously their place.
She holds the baby close enough that it cannot be seen, though its crying and fussing can clearly be heard as it struggles within the circle of her arms. She hums constantly, rocking the child as she cries with it, seeming momentarily unable to verbalize any comfort from within her own overwhelming flurry of emotion.
The infant does not settle, though, and she seems to fear her child might be taken away, ripped from her arms again. For it is very clearly her child, if the strain of her anguish and her tears are anything to go by. Her desperation finally causes her to speak, voice strained and croaky from her helpless sobbing, quiet and soothing as she can manage in the limited privacy of her cell. So much so that the dream might feel invasive in this moment of vulnerability.
"Shh, my angel, my little angel, don't cry. Don't cry. It's over now, my baby. Shhhh. I'm here, I'm here. I won't let them take you away from me. Shhh."
Her broken chanting lingers in the minds of the house guests as they awaken from the dream, disconcerting for those with children of their own. The desire to check on them grows, and affects even the parents whose children are not present in the house.
Guests altered into a rage by the experiments this night who have managed not yet to die will feel another sharp pain in their stomachs, almost as though something has stabbed them. As they awaken they begin to cough, and those who have managed to regain some semblance of self will find that they recognize the taste of blood in their mouths. There is the feel of something pressed against their tongues, nearly triggering their gag reflex -- though anyone who checks will find nothing in their mouths. The coughing continues until something living drops free of their mouths, writhing away before they have a chance to smash it. It looks like a bug, segmented carapace dark with blood. The feral rage fades, but the pain remains. The hellhounds will not be attracted to any injury they receive tonight.
As the mothers slowly regain consciousness they will find that a gift has been left for them while they sleep; a small box of chocolates, a small bouquet of flowers, and a small box that looks like it came from an up-scale jeweller. The box contains a tiny heart shaped pendent with the birthstone for each of their children in it, regardless of their presence within the house.
There isn't long for everyone to once more find their bearings and start to get their feet under themselves to face the rest of the night. Soon the Phantasms appear, surrounding and taking each of the marked from the house. There will be no use in struggling, these terrifying figures cannot be touched or harmed, and seem completely devoted to their purpose. No matter how the victims struggle, they shall be taken.
The experiments have begun.
Through the heavy rain and the sound of the storm, anyone in the Second House will still be able to hear that the screaming man has not halted, his shrieks of agony breaking off into choked sobs from time to time, throat raw from screaming over the storm.
In the Blank Library the woman has shifted to the floor by one of the bookcases, fingers buried in her hair and knees drawn to her chest as though she has taken some fright. Her eyes do not move from the door, face pale and stark as the lightning illuminates the room. She hunches each time the thunder shakes the house. She will not move for several hours, hunched and hidden away from whatever has frightened her.
In the Ballroom, the Piano Player's music is beginning a subtle and steady shift. Rather than the earlier waltz tune the music emerging now is faster, has a driving beat not unlike a heart racing in terror. The sound is chaotic and discordant, almost manic as it grows increasingly louder, and seems to swell with undertones of darkness so close to the surface they can nearly be tasted. It flows and changes moment by moment, though the air of mounting imminent danger never leaves. The Dancers follow this music's lead, becoming increasingly erratic and frenzied; the rest of the accompanying musicians struggle desperately to keep pace.
Caught in the melody's power, the sheer speed and force of such a mad dance begins to break the Dancers apart. Flesh tears, bones break, and spines snap, but still they dance--their bodies heal almost as quickly as they're being destroyed, only to come back wrong, changed. Wings, fangs, claws, scales, hooves--all that and more twists the Dancers as the night progresses.
As the night wanes and dawn draws nearer, the accompanying musicians abandon all efforts to follow the tune, and even the Piano Player's fingers settle deathly still over the keys; in the wake of this silence, the Dancers begin to make their own music. It arises slowly, even as the last notes of the piano echo and die in the chamber; the Ballroom soon fills instead with shrieks and sobs and hysterical laughter, ebbing and flowing to much the same twisted rhythm that the Piano Player had tried so hard to follow. Their mingled cries intertwine with the sound of snapping bones and pounding feet, with broken voices screamed hoarse and lungs rattling in wet, sickly gasps for a struggle to draw breath.
The song is pervasive, and few in the house will be able to get far enough away to escape it.
As midnight wanes on the Day Room party finally makes a move. A hellhound on a circuit patrol stops by their doorway and observes as one minute they are there and the next, gone. It seems to check for stragglers before it paces across and noses open the door of the Sewing Room. Within, the once quiet location has been taken over. Although the hellhound stays sat in the doorway, seemingly acting as a guard and unwilling to move or let people enter, anyone who peeks past it will quickly realize work is being done. The room has become a temporary workshop, frozen in time while anyone watches but moving quickly enough that the moment you glance away and back everything will be re-arranged. Mannequins, statues, fairy figures and even the frog appear to be joining in. Their work is unnaturally fast, strings of small armbands piling up and doll parts separated and rejoined in unnatural ways. In the midst of it all, the regal doll clad in pink seems to be overseeing the work patiently.
Whoever was holding the baby Nicolas in the first house will find that he has vanished when they wake. Orihime in the second house will wake with the child carefully tucked into her arms.
The baby rescued from the Backstage area is awake, hand tucked against his face. He seems to have taken no harm from his ordeal and will burble happily if either of his rescuers handle him. If anyone else attempts to take him he will start to cry. His cry serves as an unnerving counterpoint to the twisted music in the Ballroom and seems to cause the monsters in the house some distress, though none seems inclined to attack or approach him closely.
Though the houses remain split, some of the residents may find that they have again moved while they slept.
In the Greenhouse the fog dampens the noise of the storm and no rain seems to be falling. The two lost teenagers will begin to hear the sound of shod hooves on the dirt path as the last toll of the bell dies away in the distance. Very shortly, they might catch sight of a light bobbing in the darkness heading towards them.
In the Upper Hall of the First House the sound of chains has once again begun. Anyone wearing a chain of any sort will feel an uncomfortable tug upon entering the hall, though it does not seem strong enough to remove the object from their person.
In the Parlor the The Burning Man has stilled. Though it is difficult to tell, considering the relative state of his face, he seems almost sad. He will not move from the fireplace, half covered in the coals he inhabits, and will only attack anyone who makes a fresh flame.
In the Study there is movement in the Closed Closet. The sound of something clawing at the wall and slamming its body into the plaster is obvious to all who enter the room. Anyone getting close enough to listen will hear moaning from within, low and desperate. There seems to be no way to release it from its prison.
In the Mirror Bedroom the walls have started to distort, bubbling outwards and then snapping back, as though something seeks desperately to escape.
In the Wall Papered Parlor the Lady In White has sunk to her knees and does not seem at all inclined to move. Though her beauty still lures those who enter the room closer to her she seems almost like a bird that has fallen from the sky, dress spread around her in a waterfall of white fabric. More than ever she seems ill-suited for the dress and the role she plays.
Something seems to have suddenly come upon the ghost that inhabits the the Photography Bedroom, putting him in a volatile mood for as long as the chimes of midnight last. The Photographer's Ghost stirs suddenly into a nearly violent flurry, pacing the room and upturning whatever seems to be in his way -- or else whatever it is that he decides has slighted him. For the time, he seems unwilling to stay still or calm, and yet unable to ease himself.
By the time the chimes fade he has settled in front of the desk and is content to rest there for a moment. He takes the locket in his hands, preoccupied by it but periodically returning to his work on the camera. He remains distracted, and a little more irritable.
((ooc: House division lists as follows:
First House:
Abigail, Agito, Akito, Arthur, Ben, Bianchi, Cale, chaos, Chrome, Darcy, Davesprite, Dean, Dib, Don, Elena, Eli, Estella, G, Gabriel, Himawari, Kohaku, Laura, Lelouch, Leon, Lexaeus, Light, Liz, Marshall, Mary, Mukuro, Nate, Niall, Nina, Piper, Rachel, Rose, Roxas, Rune, Sephiroth, Shadow, Shisui, Shouichi, Silver, Spanner, Thor, Tim, Tino, Toboe, Tsuna, Vivien, Zion
Second House:
Ai, Alys, Anastasia, Arlen, Belphegor, Bobby, Byakuran, Claire, Cynder, Dino, Ed, Fran, Giotto, Gokudera, Homura, Jade, James, Jamie, John E, John W, Kari, Kate, Laufey, Legolas, Lily, Loki, Luke, Maia, Maurice, Misa, Mogget, Naoya, Orihime, Paige, Peter, Puss, Raven, Reborn, Reim, Reynard, Rick, Romano, Rufus, Sam, Shizuka, Shizuru, Sif, Sunny, Susan, Terezi, Zexion))