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Midnight Update
Apr. 13th, 2012 10:57 pmMidnight creeps up on the houseguests silently.
As the first chime strikes, the bells in the Bell Tower begin to ring. This pervasive noise will be distantly audible to those locked away in the rooms, and those in the house will hear it clearly.
The Twisted shriek as the bells sound, covering their ears with whatever available appendages they have, many simply vanish from the house, slinking away to whatever shadows bore them to nurse the injury.
The Hellhounds howl through the duration of the chimes, each bearing the vestige they wear while hunting for the palatable moment of midnight, though it will fade once the noise fades from the house.
As the last chime sounds every door in the house proper slams open, bouncing off the adjoining wall with a resounding crash. In the doorway of every room, even the safe rooms a child appears. They are not the same child, faces dark with grave dirt and skin drained of blood and life. Each child watches the occupants of the room dead eyes milky with a sightless film. Each small face turns up in a quiet smile, though no words are said. The occupants of the rooms will find themselves unable to move for as long as the child stands in the doorway.
The doors slam shut as they fade.
Lanterns have appeared in the halls, spaced every ten feet should anyone choose to measure. The shadows they cast writhe as though they are alive, hissing and humming and occasionally growling. Though they will not prove harmful to anyone who encounters them.
The cry of a Crow breaks the snowy silence in the Open Hallway the bird perched high on the bars. It seems content with grooming itself and watching anyone that passes. Despite the place it has found itself in, the bird seems calm, feathers fluffed against the chill of the night air. It watches those that pass beneath its perch intently, but it remains safely out of reach of even the fliers.
In the Day Room a new friendship seems to have started, one of the mannequins from the Sewing Room is sitting casually in one of the chairs, tea cup half raised to its mouth-less face. Sitting across from it, as though they had been having a pleasant conversation a moment before, is one of the dolls from the Doll Bathroom. She holds a smaller tea cup and is similarly motionless, staring intently at her companion with lifeless eyes. They do not move while anyone is looking at them, though they often shift position. Sitting rather innocuously in the middle of the table, perhaps passed over when viewing the strange pair, is a small porcelain frog. It is situated exactly between the pair, and does not seem inclined to move from the dish of tea sandwiches it currently occupies. It seems to watch anyone that enters the room, beady eyes intent.
In the Doll Bathroom something seems to have gone terribly wrong, the light flicker on and off again like a TV set gone out of focus. The sound of static fills the air, intermixed with the sound of humming and the rough rasp of a brush against skin. The girl does not seem content to simply appear as she did before, and instead fades in and out of view. Her eyes remain on her hands.
For those in the event, the night brings a new sound, at first low and hard to make out, but slowly gaining in volume as the bells fade. It is the scream of someone terrified for their lives, a physical, desperate thing that seems to grip each trapped within the room, despite their relative degrees of empathy. This person is important to them, and desperately needs their help.
As the screams fade into choked whimpers, all the phones begin to ring.
As the first chime strikes, the bells in the Bell Tower begin to ring. This pervasive noise will be distantly audible to those locked away in the rooms, and those in the house will hear it clearly.
The Twisted shriek as the bells sound, covering their ears with whatever available appendages they have, many simply vanish from the house, slinking away to whatever shadows bore them to nurse the injury.
The Hellhounds howl through the duration of the chimes, each bearing the vestige they wear while hunting for the palatable moment of midnight, though it will fade once the noise fades from the house.
As the last chime sounds every door in the house proper slams open, bouncing off the adjoining wall with a resounding crash. In the doorway of every room, even the safe rooms a child appears. They are not the same child, faces dark with grave dirt and skin drained of blood and life. Each child watches the occupants of the room dead eyes milky with a sightless film. Each small face turns up in a quiet smile, though no words are said. The occupants of the rooms will find themselves unable to move for as long as the child stands in the doorway.
The doors slam shut as they fade.
Lanterns have appeared in the halls, spaced every ten feet should anyone choose to measure. The shadows they cast writhe as though they are alive, hissing and humming and occasionally growling. Though they will not prove harmful to anyone who encounters them.
The cry of a Crow breaks the snowy silence in the Open Hallway the bird perched high on the bars. It seems content with grooming itself and watching anyone that passes. Despite the place it has found itself in, the bird seems calm, feathers fluffed against the chill of the night air. It watches those that pass beneath its perch intently, but it remains safely out of reach of even the fliers.
In the Day Room a new friendship seems to have started, one of the mannequins from the Sewing Room is sitting casually in one of the chairs, tea cup half raised to its mouth-less face. Sitting across from it, as though they had been having a pleasant conversation a moment before, is one of the dolls from the Doll Bathroom. She holds a smaller tea cup and is similarly motionless, staring intently at her companion with lifeless eyes. They do not move while anyone is looking at them, though they often shift position. Sitting rather innocuously in the middle of the table, perhaps passed over when viewing the strange pair, is a small porcelain frog. It is situated exactly between the pair, and does not seem inclined to move from the dish of tea sandwiches it currently occupies. It seems to watch anyone that enters the room, beady eyes intent.
In the Doll Bathroom something seems to have gone terribly wrong, the light flicker on and off again like a TV set gone out of focus. The sound of static fills the air, intermixed with the sound of humming and the rough rasp of a brush against skin. The girl does not seem content to simply appear as she did before, and instead fades in and out of view. Her eyes remain on her hands.
For those in the event, the night brings a new sound, at first low and hard to make out, but slowly gaining in volume as the bells fade. It is the scream of someone terrified for their lives, a physical, desperate thing that seems to grip each trapped within the room, despite their relative degrees of empathy. This person is important to them, and desperately needs their help.
As the screams fade into choked whimpers, all the phones begin to ring.
