|| DAY 027: GENERAL
As dawn approaches, those who have been hard at work over the long night begin to halt their duties. The cook pauses, and leans to pick up his young friend, holding the boy tightly in his arms and murmuring something in his ear.
The child clings to him, chin resting on his shoulder, but he is otherwise entirely quiet.
The Lady In White gives the door a long, resentful look, sitting on the edge of the hearth and not moving from that spot as dawn overcomes her.
Anyone near the Priest's Study will hear the Shadow Man chuckle just as the clock begins to chime the hour.
The house-guests sleep, regardless of their attempts to resist it. They do not dream, save for Lyhn's Students.
They will dream of someone kissing them, breathing for them as though without the interference they would die. It goes on for some time, though they cannot seem to open their eyes to see who it might be.
When the students wake, it will be to find that their abilities have gone haywire. Even if normally barely active or well controlled guests will find things happening around them -- their powers flare without any permission from them, their bodies react to things they can't see, hands grasp at them even when they are alone, and their lips burn with the after image of the kiss they could not wake from.
The extreme reaction will last the entire day.
They will also discover that they crave human contact, the need for touch causing them to reach out even in cases where they would have otherwise hesitated to reach out at all. They will only be comfortable if they are touching another person, and their otherwise chaotic abilities will stabilize as long as they remain in contact with someone.
The rain and ice have turned to snow, and the cold has not abated; the soft flakes cling to a thin layer of ice, making footing outside treacherous. Outside the wind is biting and the snow itself falls wet and heavy, inescapable for those who wander around outside at all. Inside, the fires have been tended, and the heat helps keep the chill at bay.
Just in time for the cold weather, those who ate the offerings begin to feel more like themselves again. Their breath becomes more steady and stable, and they themselves become stronger. Rejuvenated at least, whatever near-death state they had been imparted with is gone and for a time, they feel almost better than they were before -- as if something has made them more than they were before, more full of life. But it is, of course, only a feeling. An illusion brought on by the weeks spent cold and listless. Nothing could have possibly changed them, after all.
With the day, the feeling of filth coating the Sensitives has faded entirely, the last of the imaginary dirt flaking off of their bodies, cracked by the cold and peeling away. The residual feeling from something having been caked to their bodies can be washed away without much difficulty, the last of the soiled skin scrubbed away. Until then, the terrible itching won't stop.
The Hellhounds have vanished with the day, leaving their friends behind to fend for themselves, save for the pups that have been following James and Thor.
Rose has also disappeared from the house altogether. She leaves as her only trace a dark stain of blood on the floor of the Wallpapered Parlour, evidence of the night's injuries but nothing more. Those that talked to her in the night will spend the day feeling as though they have made some kind of discovery, or had some kind of realization. Though this knowledge seems important, no amount of reflecting will reveal what crucial information it is that they have apparently learned. They only know that in time it will become important. Hopefully they will remember it before that time.
Both Americas, Ami, Ava, Castiel, Emily, Hawke, Hollow, Jendayi, Lind, Murphy, Naoto, Rei, Rin, Sam, Sammie and Sephiroth all wake up with an ornate envelope crumpled in their hands. The paper is crisp, at least where they have not creased it in their sleep, and their name on the front is in fine gold lettering. Inside is an invitation, nondescript other than its large, flowing writing. It gives almost no details, but merely asks them to RSVP to an event that is set to occur 'tonight.' Their agreement to come to the event has already been circled in red ink.
Lock can be found briefly in the Blue Kitchen building himself a plate of the food left in the kitchen. His neck is bandaged but he seems to be in high spirits for whatever reason, nearly bouncing as he moves.
The Study is open, though empty now of anything interesting. The noose and the body it held are gone. Written above the desk on the window is a single, somewhat familiar phrase, scratched into the glass with the tip of something sharp. "We Rise To Fall."
Of the person who wrote it and anything else that has been going on in the room, there is no sign, though in the Nursery the rocking chair is rocking, and will not be stopped. Anyone sitting in it will be overcome by a rush of chill, and see their breath frost in the air.
The Gallery stands empty this morning. No more is there a noose hanging from the top of the stairs, and in fact it has disappeared as though it had never been there at all. The man, too, is missing: there is no sign of Don, living or dead, today. Even the portraits on the walls seem somehow dimmer, as if the colours had faded to finally show their age. The entire room is poorly tended in the absence of its usual spirit.
In place of the man who is normally found there, Victoria stirs on one of the sofas, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she wakes.
The Attic has quieted somewhat with the day, though it is far from silent. The sound of construction is farther off, now. While it has evidently moved away from the walls, it is still present. Still constant. Whatever makes the noise still lurks somewhere beyond the walls.
The Mute Ghost Girl is sleeping in the Trophy Room, her hands drawn to her face and her eyes closed against the dawn. She whines if anyone tries to wake her, protesting the attempts. The Safe stands open in the morning. Inside the safe is mostly money and jewellery, though a gun and some bullets might tempt many of the guests in the house. A set of six numbers has been carved, seemingly with a knife, on the inside of the door. The dial can be turned from the inside. The numbers are: 24, 32, 18, 09, 13, 05.
In the Open Hallway the Crows have settled into small piles of feathers on the bars of the hall, glaring at those who make their way through the snow, but not stirring from their places.
The Lady In White has vanished from her place on the hearth, though several small jars filled with fragrant salve and a small piece of folded paper have been left in her place in the Rough Kitchen. The message makes no sense to anyone for the moment. It seems to be intended for someone, though who remains a mystery for the moment.
There are new sketches of Shion and his guardians in the Junior Dormitory, each documenting a moment that has passed in the night. The observer seems to get closer than any person should have been able, judging by the amount of adults constantly around the toddler. There are no notes to indicate the mood of the artist, or the reason they follow the child so closely.
In the Stables the man has vanished from his place, the collar and cuffs left to dangle in the stall. The door stands open, allowing the guests access to the tiny room. Nothing seems to be amiss, though someone has tended to the horses, draping them with blankets against the chill. In one of the stalls, a black dog is curled, feet tucked under its body and nose hidden under its tail. The horse in the stall with it noses at it on occasion, as though curious about the creature that shares its space.
A white ball of feathers has taken up residences in the upper reaches of the Bird Cage Room, feathers fluffed up against the chill and head tucked beneath its wing. It makes it impossible to tell just what sort of bird it is, or even if the creature is wholly white. It does not move from its chosen perch, and seems rather resentful of the cold.
The Velvet Room seems unchanged at first glance, the case still empty and no sign of the former occupant. A closer look will reveal a single change: A bloody hand print on the empty glass case. There is only one, no sign of any other blood.
Hana remains awake in the Silk Room, though as time has passed she has become more listless. She is still aware, but the worry and the fear have grown stronger. Dressed now in comfortable, loose clothing again she sits at the edge of her bed -- one hand resting at the base of her lap, the other pressed to her temple where stray strands of hair cover it. Pale and tired, she is most certainly distracted today, casting the occasional look out of her door and down the hall. On occasion she gets to her feet to move to her desk, sitting down to occupy herself as she fixes her hair. She barely reacts when people enter her room, though she will always greet them with a polite smile, seeming limited to speaking when spoken to.
The door to the Wax Bedroom is gone, only a smooth stretch of wall standing where all remember there once being a door.
Something is wrong with the Husk Bedroom. It is as though the damage is slowly rewinding, the spot in the middle of the floor sending off waves of heat in the frosty morning. The windows are slowly repairing themselves, and as they house-guests watch, the scorch marks will begin to fade from the walls.
The faint sound of someone weeping can occasionally be heard, but as of yet, the situation happens too slowly for anything useful to come of it for some time. The room is still open and exposed to the outside, and the house-guests will find themselves quickly losing heat if they remain for long.
The Carved Parlour has ceased to bleed, the porous cracks caking over with scabs and puss. The wounds are sealed, and the blood is dried, leaving the room no longer wet but still ultimately unpleasant. Breaking off any of the sticky scabs cause more blood to escape, slowly oozing from the furniture.
The meal preparations in all of the Kitchens are still ongoing, and anyone who is hungry can likely find something they want to eat -- though the Cooks have both vanished from their places.
In the bakery, many will find themselves being encouraged to take as much bread as they can carry, as baskets will appear behind them as soon as they turn away.
In the Empty Kitchen the candy stands in tall piles, the invisible confectioner seems to have been hard at work. Any sort of sweet the house-guests wish to find can be attained here without any issue, and the room seems to offer a gentle air of indulgence to any who enter, mixed liberally with the smell of warm sugar.
The Unnatural Servants have vanished from the Cafeteria, though the house-guests are welcome to continue to serve themselves.
The door to the Smoke House is tightly locked, and nothing the guests do will force the door to open. From within the room come the steady sounds of heavy things hitting wood. Under the busy noises are the sounds of someone moaning softly, and the constant sound of something hitting the floor.
The Hoarder's Attic feels empty. There is nothing within it. Nothing stirs within the room or disturbs the thin layer of dust that has settled over the room. Still, anyone who sits on the bed will be convinced they saw a small child standing just in front of them, her eyes focused on them. She is small, only a year or two old, with bright grey eyes and dark curly hair barely restrained by braids. She is humming softly, her head tilted to the side, the same tune that had permeated the house during the night.
No one else who stands in the room will be able to see the tiny child, only the person who sits on the bed. She will not come close enough to let them touch her, and will vanish the moment they stand.
Dave moves about the bar with renewed energy, happily speaking to those who stop to see him. He has coffee for those that need it, and breakfast for those who do not wish to risk the temper of the kitchens. The marks are slowly healing, but are still present on the walls.
Outside in the Orchard, amid the now bare apple trees; three little boys are playing in the snow. One is obviously the Boy Twin, the Crawling Boy, and the last is the child that appears with the ravens. The boys seem rather enamoured with the snow, forming it into balls to show each other, though they seem rather at a loss of how to play with it. The Boy Twin seems somewhat agitated, and is constantly looking around, as though expecting someone else to appear.
The dangers of the night have passed, the monsters fading away while the guests slept, and the rooms that sought to harm them returning to ordinary rooms. The sun has brought safety. Everything is as it should be. Peaceful.
[ OOC: Comment here if you have any character actions you'd like to note for the sake of plotting with other characters! You can also comment here if you would like to request an NPC that is mentioned on this post or those of any of the individual houses.
And those who signed up for plot, you'll note that you're all mentioned in the update.
Good luck. ]
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allthekeys) wrote2013-10-19 12:00 am
NPC Requests
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Ami would be interested in seeing Hana, perhaps handwaved as their current one is ongoing (though I'd love another thread).
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More specifically Spade.
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And probably a "Hello? ....Can you understand me?"