allthekeys | Day 026

|| DAY 026: GENERAL

The clock strikes the morning hour as it has for an unfathomable amount of time. It is nothing unusual, except that it rings unnaturally loud in the dim light of the rising sun. There is the sound of clapping, two solid smacks and a deep, low chuckle. It brings with it strange, undeniable sensations

The house-guests feel their heads swim for a moment, and nausea grip tight to them. Dizziness makes way for clouded vision, dullness around the corners as they try to support themselves -- though it seems like the world is not sitting quite right, as if the house has tilted again.

And then the dullness fades to grey, to black, and seeps into their eyes. It tunnels slowly at first, consuming everything they see, with a dull weariness in their senses.

Then rapidly it accelerates as it closes off their vision and leaves everything, leaves them, in a world of pure, impenetrable darkness.

The feelings of sickness fade, all the symptoms wash away. The blindness does not.

Instead it lingers, shutting them off from their sight for the rest of the day, leaving them to fumble blindly through the hostile environment of the house.

The sun is hot as its light shines through the windows, vicious and scorching in the late summer air. It is not the light that is gone. Everything remains where it was, the sun is relentless, but no more is it for them to see.

The air is hot and grimy, dust clouds seem to rise up around them. The heat is nearly unbearable, the house-guests will find themselves desperate to cool off, if only for a little while.

The water remains, allowing them some respite from the heat, though wandering far from it does risk heatstroke and other unpleasantness.

Those with magical pets and familiars that would normally have the ability to borrow the creature's vision will find out very quickly that while their familiars can still see, and could potentially guide them, they will not be able to share their sight with them.

Those who played with the Hellhounds during the night will find that they soon have company as one of the creatures seeks them out. The greetings are universally friendly, with hands gently licked and tails thumping against the floor. Though the puppies themselves seem to have chosen a specific person. James will find himself greeted by the Boy pup and Thor will soon find Brynhildur curled against his side. Jendayi will hear the Giant Hound approach, though he is not as exuberant as the other dogs, the big dog seems attentive to her every need and concerned over her. The dogs seemed to have appointed themselves a task, and will help to guide those who have befriended them through the darkness of the house. They are very capable guides, even the puppies, and will gently take hold of their friends to lead them around the hazards their blindness have created for them. Simple instructions seem to be understood, and the dogs seem to delight in being given a chance to help.

Though the food has not returned to the house the smells of it tantalizes those who get close to any of the kitchens. Warm pies, straight from the oven. Thick, meaty stews that fill the air with rich aromas. Fresh bread that never materializes. The larders remain empty, the ovens remain cold, but the smells will linger with them long after they leave the kitchens.

The bags that sustained them through the night have remained, though their contents are no more inspiring than they were during the night. The food will support them, but it will bring them no joy.

For the High Sensitives the morning brings with it a feeling of dirtiness, clinging to their bodies. The dust and grime that cloud the air seem to be centered on them. No amount of showering will wash it from their skin. As though to undercut this unpleasantness, they will also find that the food they have been left with and the water that they attempt to consume tastes stale, as though it has been left for too long.

Throughout the house, despite the overwhelming heat, the house-guests will find themselves encountering cold spots. Places where the temperature drops to alarming levels, cold enough to leave frost clinging to their skin. They are impossible to predict, and seem to show up at random wherever they like.

For those who ate the offerings during the night they will find no difference in these areas. Cold grips them through the day, though they can tell the sun should be warm. Their flesh is clammy and cold, no warmth spreading through them any longer. It may even feel as if their very pulse has ceased to throb in their veins -- but that is surely just imagination.

Those who have Radios, Cellphones or Other Electronic Devices will find that they seem to be turning on from time to time, soft whispers in languages they do not understand intruding on conversation, originating from the speakers of the devices. Removing battery packs seem to have no effect, though the voices do not seem at all threatening.

The halls are not only filled with helpful creatures today, and the children of the night seem to have found some never level of daring now that the house-guests cannot see them. Anyone remaining still for long in Any Hallway will find they are quickly besieged by laughing children, darting just close enough to touch them, and then running away again before they can be captured.

The Knocking continues as it has been, though now when the house-guests open the doors to whatever is pounding so desperately, they can hear breathing in the hallway, undercut with tiny sobs and whimpers, but nothing ever speaks.

The sound of squeaky wagon wheels also remains, though it too seems to grow closer and closer as the day goes on, barely minding the reach of the guest it torments.

As the house-guests make their ways down the hallways, they will occasionally find themselves suddenly aware of a presence. A hand grabs their elbows, pulling them back as a woman's voice says, urgently just next to their ear, "don't." Just as quickly as she appeared, the hand and the presence vanish once more. As they proceed, they will discover that they were just about to step off a set of stairs.

Someone is humming in the Ballroom, though they will not answer any attempts to gain their attention. The humming always seems to be a few feet from them, never growing any closer. The tune is familiar, and persistent, but the house-guests can never seem to remember where they might have heard it before.

In the Upper Hallway of the first house, the sound of chains rattling fill the air. It seems as though something magnetic has taken hold in the area, as anyone wearing anything metal will find that something seems to be applying a tiny bit of pressure to it, tugging it away from their bodies. The source of both sound and pressure does not appear.

Anyone falling asleep in the Red Bedroom will find that they wake up with company, though it is perhaps the least threatening company the house has ever offered. Someone has curled against their backs as they slept, arms tight around them, face buried in their hair. The individual seems to be male, if groping fingers can be trusted, and also seems to be completely asleep. The smell of roses hangs heavy in the air, but their new found companion does not wake. He is easy to escape, though those remaining on the bed might find his arms winding around them again.

Don returns to life in the Art Gallery but the transition is not at all smooth. Unseen, the cracks of bones are louder, sharper, as they snap firmly back into place and return him to his living form. There is a quiet moan of agony —- which quickly grows in alarm. His breathing spikes, and nails can be heard dragging across the floor as he scrambles to his feet. There is a thump that radiates from the wall near the door, something small hitting hard against the plaster, and then the sound of movement stops. All that remains to be heard is sharp, panicked breathing.

Within the Dawn Room the sound of a child's voice can be heard, talking under her breath -- although she appears to be filling in the replies herself. It's idle chatter, something whimsical about knights and princesses. The clink of a tea set can be heard every so often.

In the Study, the sound of paper rustling on the desk can be heard, as well as a faint, somewhat strange creaking sound. Moving towards the sound will cause the house-guest to run into something hanging from the ceiling. A closer examination will reveal that it is a corpse, the body gone cold and still, no struggle remaining within it. It swings, slowly, as though caught in the wind, independent of the momentum they have given it.

Should anyone make their way to the desk, they will find that a book lays open on the work surface, the pages turning rapidly as though someone is desperately looking for an answer within the tome. Unfortunately, they cannot see what the book is, and nothing seems to be standing near to the desk to turn the pages.

Those who press further, into the Nursery will be confronted by the sound of a child crying softly, though no fumbling around will find the child anywhere in the room.

The faucet in the Doll Bathroom seems to be dripping, the sound loud enough to disturb anyone on the first floor of the house. It is mindless and repetitive, though anyone attempting to enter the room will find that the door is blocked by something heavy and the smell of blood and rot suffuse the air around the frame. Something wet and sticky covers the floor outside the door, though the smell is impossible to describe.

The Public Restroom is not yet empty, though now those visiting it are given a wider berth. There is a faint sound skittering across the floors, and every now and again something can be felt to brush past the guest. It is barely a ghost of a touch, but there is something there keeping close.

From one of the locked stalls there is a pungent smell of rot and decay, something dead or dying on the other side of the divider. The floor is vaguely sticky.

Anyone sleeping in the Shelter Bedroom will find their sleep disturbed by laughing children jumping on the beds. The children are loud and persistent, anyone who attempts to sleep in this room will find their sleep interrupted within a few minutes.

Anyone remaining for long in the Junior Dormitory will find themselves distracted by the sound of someone gently clearing their throat. Anyone who remains for longer than an hour, or attempts to sleep in the room, will find themselves overcome with the desperate need to find something, something important. Something they cannot quite remember.

The sound of wings fluttering can be heard in the Open Hallway though nothing gives any other indication of its presence.

Someone is weeping in the Dining Room. The sound is soft, but persistent. Though the guests will never be able to find the source. There are times other words can be heard, breaking through the sobs. "Please. Please let me..." The voice is soft and female, but will not answer any pleas.

Stepping into the Gentleman's Club brings a burst of life to the house. Though it could not be heard immediately outside the room, there is a swell of music, lively jazz, overpowering everything. Conversations stir, though no words can ever be made out through the din. It makes a strangely discordant sound, the beats of the music never meshing with the cheers or laughter.

Almost immediately after entering the room, the house-guests finds themselves grabbed by the shoulders and guided to a seat. The grip is warm and strong, and from there the smell of the singer's perfume can be detected, rich and aromatic. A cold drink is shoved into the hand of the visitor, and the hands never leave their shoulders. It is possible to break free, but there is friendly laughter near their ears, urging them on -— at least, that must be what they are saying, through all the noise.

As soon as a single sip of the burning and strong drink is taken, all sound and feeling disappear from the room. The guest remains holding an empty glass, still cold from whatever had been in it.

In the Bird Cage room, something has caused the cages to start swinging. The chains creak and groan as the weight of the cages pull them back and forth. The outside cage is solidly locked, and something within it sings softly, words tangling over themselves in a language that makes no sense to the house-guests. The voice itself is high, that of a female or a prepubescent male, it seems almost unnaturally perfect, holding its beautiful tone throughout the confusing verses of the song. Any who press their hands to the bars will feel soft, human sized hands wrapping around their own, cool in a way that nothing should be with the house so hot. The prisoner does not speak, but they will grip the hands of the house-guests as though drawing comfort from the contact for as long as they stay.

There is a faint whispering in the Wax Bedroom, coming from near the bed. Snippets of innocent conversation can be heard —- though, upon further listening, it will be obviously that the dialogue is almost exclusively one sided, a man's voice talking soothing, bubbling nonsense and receiving occasional muted sounds in response. Unlike many of the rooms of the house today, walking toward the source of conversation will be met with a hand solidly pressing against their leg, stopping them from coming any closer. There is most certainly someone there, though he does not seem particularly interested in anyone but whoever he is talking to.

The Velvet Bedroom is home to a more intimate sounds, the soft wet noise of flesh against flesh, tiny moans and frenzied breathing. The noises seem to come from the bed, but anyone making their way to it will find that it is empty, and that the blankets hold no residual heat from the bodies that must have been tangled there moments ago.

Anyone stepping into the Silk Bedroom will feel a pair of hands settle gently on their face, framing their features with warm fingers. There is no force behind the gesture, and should they wish to pull away they will be allowed, but in the wake of the touch flows such a deep feeling of peace and rightness that they may not want to. The hands are small, and should they reach forward they will discover that the body gently guiding them is female. But the figure will say nothing, not even if prompted.

The hands will guide them forward, bidding them to kneel. At any time they become uncomfortable the guiding hands will fade away from them, the presence vanishing as though it never was.

They will be given a few careful sips of a mild but sweet tea, though they will not be allowed to take the cup away from the hands that direct them. A few bites of something equally mild, unidentified, but somehow very pleasing, will be fed to them from her fingertips.

The hands return to stroke their faces again, travelling gently along the lines of their jaw, massaging away the tension that rests there. The massage will continue into their scalps and down their necks and shoulder, gentle and soothing. The person tending to them makes no noise, but the sense of calm hangs heavy over the room, though it is nothing they could not shrug away, and she will not stop them from leaving if they desire to. Instead, it gives them a feeling of safety should they wish to yield to it. Nothing will harm them here, they alone are in complete control.

Once their bodies have relaxed under the touch, the hands will return, gently bringing their wrists together. Once they have been positioned comfortably, the person holding them will begin to gently bind their arms together with a silk ribbon, the design so carefully placed that it must be artistic, if only they could see it. It will become more difficult to move their arms as the person works, though at the first sign of discomfort the ties will vanish and they will find themselves alone in the room. The gentle brush of silk and fingers is almost soothing, the pattern clearly not meant to harm.

When the binding is finished, the last ties draping gently around their shoulders, both it and the person who created it will vanish. Those who remain through the entire process will feel a fleeting kiss on their cheek, warm with approval.

Anyone entering the Stables will become overwhelmed by the scent of straw, grain, leather, and a faint scent of manure, though some effort seems to have been made to keep the area clean. The stalls seem to be filled with horses, and the animals stamp and snort, avoiding contact with their human visitors. They seem highly agitated about something, but there is no real indication of what might be bothering them.

Something is in the smallest stall, though the door will not open. Whatever it is seems to be bound to the sides, and is struggling as best it can for freedom. The house-guests can hear the occasional gasp of pain, as well as the scrape of feet against the floor and the occasional thud as whatever fights within the small area falls. But it does not speak, and does not seem to answer any attempts to speak to it, though the occasional silences seem to indicate that it might be listening.

In the Cafeteria the sound of rasping breath can be heard from the doorway. Anyone who makes their way deeper into the room will find themselves catching the occasional harsh sound of something unyielding striking flesh, as well as a low groan of pain. The sound of something liquid falling to the floor completes the distressing sounds.

There is no one else in the room.

Something hot and wet drips from the ceiling of the Meat Freezer; it is sticky and thick, and smells vaguely acidic. It begins to burn if it is not cleaned off promptly.

Anyone entering the Soft Bedroom will be struck by a sense of something else being there. The faint sound of breathing intrudes on the silence, and occasionally the shuffle of footsteps can be heard. Whatever is in the room does not reveal itself, nor will it answer to any greetings.

The Seedy Bar is filled with the sound of clinking glasses and is overpowered by the smell of alcohol. The room is warm, in some ways more so than others, but not unpleasantly so. There are no voices, no one speaks even at the bar, and the house-guests find themselves with an understanding that perhaps they shouldn't break the silence either. A warm hand touches any who leave their own on the counter top, and slides them a drink.

The Tea Room has been restored and is being kept stocked with warm water, perfect for making a relaxing cup of tea if the guests are in the mood for a surprise.

Nearby, the Bakery is also once again stocked, and a variety of pastries can be found there, fresh from the ovens and waiting to be sampled. Those who enter both rooms may occasionally be struck by the sense that someone else is in the room, though nothing speaks up to make itself known to them.

They will discover that half eaten bits of food and dirty plates will be cleared away, if left too long, but surely it is only the normal tricks of the house. There is no sound, as the plates vanish, or even a disturbance in the air to indicate that someone else might have been occupying the space.

The guardians of Shion, Nick and Tyler will find that their charges are missing and cannot be found.