Midnight 032

[allthekeys]

|| NIGHT 032: MIDNIGHT In the Dawn Room the Pigtailed Girl shudders and goes still, arms giving way as she slumps. After a moment, though, she pushes up to her knees and then to her feet. Her eyes are sunken and angry, dirty-blonde pigtails nearly falling from their ties. She takes a few steps back and delicately picks her way over to a chair, swiping up a doll from the floor to carry with her as she eases down and surveys the room with disdain. In the Gallery and the attic stairwell the Broken Woman and The Art Enthusiast go still too. She falls down the stairs and Don drops where he was pacing, both clutch at their chest as their bones mend and life slowly returns to them. There's a moment where they just lay still, recovering as the last of their broken bones and torn flesh fall back into place. The man struggles to his feet in spite of his still half-dead state and lumbers up the staircase. He reaches out to take the hand of the woman dying in reverse. The both of them disappear an instant later. The Tormented Girl sits up in the Dark Room, one hand flying to where her wound was. She scrambles to get her feet under her, a slow sense of panic creeping up on her as she sees the photos surrounding her. She fumbles her way out into the Photography Bedroom. The Foul Boy collapses as midnight rings out, one hand clutching as his chest. As the clock finishes announcing the hour he slowly gets back up, blinking in confusion as he takes in the room and looks down at his hands. His eyes seem a little more focused, although his overall appearance is still somewhat worse for wear. He absently gets to his feet, plays with the zipper of his jacket idly before pacing out into the hall. As he passes the Photography Bedroom The Tormented Girl shrieks in terror and slams the door. He approaches it and presses his palms to it, tries to talk quietly through it to little avail. All that can be heard is the sound of her sobbing and begging him to leave. That, and the shuffle of furniture as she begins to try and barricade the door. It's a wise move, as after a while he begins to throw his weight against it. The skeletons in the Chapel shudder on the pews. For a moment the burst of movement seems a solitary event, but then muscle and tendon begin to creep over the old worn bones like moss. The Rose Garden bursts back into life, flowers blooming in full colour once more. All paper cranes in the house rattle with an invisible breath, wings fluttering impotently for a long moment before they fall back into stillness.