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Midnight Update
Jul. 14th, 2012 12:00 amThe clock begins to chime the hour, muted and almost sullen, barely reaching beyond the utterly colorless parlor. The sound offers no comfort to those who hear it, but it also seems to change nothing at all.
The Sensitive in the house will find that they feel suddenly very safe, calm and sedate. Even the sickness seems less important. The non-sensitive might notice that their brethren seem unnervingly content with their current situation. The chimes of the clock bring a deeper calm upon the house, and those with unnatural senses will almost certainly notice that the house seems strangely still. The smell of rot does not fade, though it may seem less important now, almost an afterthought.
Those who have interacted with Lock will find themselves hearing a distant note, like the beginning on a song. The sound is too distant to clearly make out, and the song itself remains unresolved on the edge of hearing, but seems to be beckoning them. No matter where they go in the house, they will be unable to locate the source.
The bells in the Bell Tower begin to toll, though they seem to have nothing to do with the hour. The mournful tolling pervades the house, echoing throughout the halls, seeping into the fevered flesh of the houseguests until the sound is almost a living thing. It is not unpleasant, it does not shake them, but it lingers. The bell ringer, whatever their purpose, does not halt and any attempts to open the door to stop them will find that the Bell Tower door seems to be stuck, though there is no lock to stop it from opening.
Near the Hanging Tree something stirs, twelve women dressed entirely in grey, their faces covered and their frames obscured. They have split into groups of two, four groups carrying a small bier between them. On each is a body. Their mouths and eyes are sewn shut with threads not unlike those binding the companions to their houseguest partner. Their hands have all been bound with the same red cord, ears stuffed with cotton.
They do not move, and the creatures carrying them do not seem overly bothered by their macabre cargo.
The final two women trail behind, guiding a stumbling man between them, his head remains bowed and he does not make any attempt to make eye contact with anyone he passes. He is very finely dressed, waist coat buttoned neatly and hair well tended, as though he has only left a party. He stumbles every third step, left arm drifting as though to catch him, though his right remains slack at his side. Unlike the people on the biers, his face is unmarked.
The bier he walks directly behind holds a woman, her skin is coffee colored and her hair is cut short and dyed bright red. She seems almost faded, despite her dramatic coloring, lips pale around the stitching and skin hanging loosely on her frame. Her hands are crossed, and a close look by a daring house guest might reveal that she is crying, tears leaking from the corners of her sewn shut eyes.
On the next is a blond woman; her skin is pale and even more washed out than the woman on the other platform. Her blond hair is pale and brittle, and seems dirty. Her hands are not crossed, and the slight gap between the cords binding her hands seems to indicate some sort of struggle. She seems drained of life, and yet somehow not resigned.
The third holds a man of Asian decent, as equally pale and bound as his fellows. Next to him on the platform lays a sword, though none of the others seem to have managed to retain any accoutrement. His hands lay bound on his chest, equally as passive as the first woman, as though he does not think to struggle and will not try to move.
The last bier holds the girl Rose. She is solidly bound and does not make any attempt to rise, though her chest rises and falls in frightened gasps for breath.
The somber parade starts in the Third House and winds its way slowly through the other two houses. The women do not speak, and do not pause as they find their way through the house, even the man does not seem to slow them. They will make their way to the Ballroom and through one of the side doors into the Greenhouse.
Anyone attempting to follow them for long will find themselves lost in the Mist. The procession will not pause and the participants do not seem to register any attempts to interact with them.
As they vanish, the bells in the tower finally fall still.
The night continues, the monsters do not return to the halls. As the last toll of the bells dies to echoes, the house once again falls perfectly silent.
((ooc: Don't forget that there are sign ups for experiments on the previous update! We draw for names at the next update!))
The Sensitive in the house will find that they feel suddenly very safe, calm and sedate. Even the sickness seems less important. The non-sensitive might notice that their brethren seem unnervingly content with their current situation. The chimes of the clock bring a deeper calm upon the house, and those with unnatural senses will almost certainly notice that the house seems strangely still. The smell of rot does not fade, though it may seem less important now, almost an afterthought.
Those who have interacted with Lock will find themselves hearing a distant note, like the beginning on a song. The sound is too distant to clearly make out, and the song itself remains unresolved on the edge of hearing, but seems to be beckoning them. No matter where they go in the house, they will be unable to locate the source.
The bells in the Bell Tower begin to toll, though they seem to have nothing to do with the hour. The mournful tolling pervades the house, echoing throughout the halls, seeping into the fevered flesh of the houseguests until the sound is almost a living thing. It is not unpleasant, it does not shake them, but it lingers. The bell ringer, whatever their purpose, does not halt and any attempts to open the door to stop them will find that the Bell Tower door seems to be stuck, though there is no lock to stop it from opening.
Near the Hanging Tree something stirs, twelve women dressed entirely in grey, their faces covered and their frames obscured. They have split into groups of two, four groups carrying a small bier between them. On each is a body. Their mouths and eyes are sewn shut with threads not unlike those binding the companions to their houseguest partner. Their hands have all been bound with the same red cord, ears stuffed with cotton.
They do not move, and the creatures carrying them do not seem overly bothered by their macabre cargo.
The final two women trail behind, guiding a stumbling man between them, his head remains bowed and he does not make any attempt to make eye contact with anyone he passes. He is very finely dressed, waist coat buttoned neatly and hair well tended, as though he has only left a party. He stumbles every third step, left arm drifting as though to catch him, though his right remains slack at his side. Unlike the people on the biers, his face is unmarked.
The bier he walks directly behind holds a woman, her skin is coffee colored and her hair is cut short and dyed bright red. She seems almost faded, despite her dramatic coloring, lips pale around the stitching and skin hanging loosely on her frame. Her hands are crossed, and a close look by a daring house guest might reveal that she is crying, tears leaking from the corners of her sewn shut eyes.
On the next is a blond woman; her skin is pale and even more washed out than the woman on the other platform. Her blond hair is pale and brittle, and seems dirty. Her hands are not crossed, and the slight gap between the cords binding her hands seems to indicate some sort of struggle. She seems drained of life, and yet somehow not resigned.
The third holds a man of Asian decent, as equally pale and bound as his fellows. Next to him on the platform lays a sword, though none of the others seem to have managed to retain any accoutrement. His hands lay bound on his chest, equally as passive as the first woman, as though he does not think to struggle and will not try to move.
The last bier holds the girl Rose. She is solidly bound and does not make any attempt to rise, though her chest rises and falls in frightened gasps for breath.
The somber parade starts in the Third House and winds its way slowly through the other two houses. The women do not speak, and do not pause as they find their way through the house, even the man does not seem to slow them. They will make their way to the Ballroom and through one of the side doors into the Greenhouse.
Anyone attempting to follow them for long will find themselves lost in the Mist. The procession will not pause and the participants do not seem to register any attempts to interact with them.
As they vanish, the bells in the tower finally fall still.
The night continues, the monsters do not return to the halls. As the last toll of the bells dies to echoes, the house once again falls perfectly silent.
((ooc: Don't forget that there are sign ups for experiments on the previous update! We draw for names at the next update!))
Night falls on the house with a whisper, rather than the normal cacophony of noise. The chimes of the clock are muted, unheard beyond the Parlor, the bells in the Bell Tower do not make a sound.
The loss of color effecting the Ballroom begins to extend to the Parlor, leaving it seeming muted and strange.
Nothing appears in the fireplace, the stones cold and untouched by flame.
In All bathrooms nothing more troubling than a dripping faucet makes itself known.
The Hallways remain empty; no barks break the silence of the night, no movement disturbs the stillness. Houseguests may notice their footsteps unnaturally loud and echoing strangely, sometimes even sounding as though someone else is following them closely. In spite of this, however, and their shadows occasionally moving in ways they shouldn't, no danger makes itself known.
The Doctor’s Wing is dark, the nurse gone from her desk, the lights turned off. The doors are all locked, and the Doctor appears to not be in residence. No one entering the Waiting Room will find themselves in any danger.
The house is incredibly hot, the heat haze and the rising temperature making it easy to lose track of what the guests might have been doing. The desire to remain still is prevalent, and for some the worsening symptoms of the sickness do not help. The houseguests may find some relief in the Basement and beyond, all of which seems to be measurably cooler than the house itself. Even so, any who linger here will find themselves gripped by a steadily mounting tension, an anxious state of suspense that only grows worse the longer their uneventful stay lasts.
Those who caught the illness originally may start to exhibit worse symptoms; open sores in their throats and ears, trouble swallowing, vomiting, higher fevers, tiredness, bloody noses, and hallucinations. These do not present with everyone, and some may not display anything beyond the original symptoms, but for those that do they will find the night made even more unpleasant by their misery.
All who have yet to feel the effects will soon find that that has changed. Setting in with muggy warmth of night, they become feverish-- and eventually worse. The symptoms may not graduate past the earliest signs, but no organic house guest can escape the pervading tendrils of sickness.
At the onset of night, all companions begin to fret a little more than normal. Their anxiety, while not particularly high or smothering, does not seem to cease. In addition, they too seem to have begun to fall ill by whatever plagues the house, lethargy and fever overtaking them. They remain close to their pairs, however, worried for their health though they are now less defensive.
The Mist from the Greenhouse begins to invade the hallways, the fog shot through with the suggestion of color and is cool to the touch. It effectively cripples the ability to judge distance of anyone who enters it, and makes it easy to get lost if the houseguest should run through it. It does not seem to have any other effects, or cause any harm to those who enter it. The mist adds an additional hazard to the heat of the night, the edges playing tricks on perception, making the housguests see things that aren’t there. The almost solid barrier also causes sound to carry strangely, making it impossible to judge just what is real and what is merely a trick of the light.
The Fireflies dance in the mist, never lingering for long outside of it. They offer the houseguests a safe feeling, encouraging them to linger near the strange spots of light.
The Dark Bedroom is full of shadows, but though they move and will touch the house-guests, they seem to cause little harm. Their bodies are cold, and weigh a considerable amount for a creature made of shadow, but their claws remain sheathed and harmless.
As quickly as she appeared, Ricci vanishes once more, leaving nothing behind to indicate that she had been there at all. Should anyone be near her when she is taken, they will see a brief moment of irritation, though she makes no sound as it seems like something drags her away.
Lock vanishes from the Library, gone the moment someone looks away from him without a trace.
The Lady In White stirs on the couch before she also fades from view.
Those who might normally find themselves stalked by The Little Girl will find that she has also vanished from their perception.
The Sensitive will find themselves warm, untroubled by the coldness that so often haunts them. Those who sense the presence of spirits will find themselves relaxing, unable to feel anything straying near to them.
Those walking through the house might notice a strange effect, especially those walking through the hallways of the Second House, will notice that the mirrors do not show their reflection.
The music boxes in the Princess Bedroom have all been wound and will continue to play through the night, though whatever is winding them remains unseen and unknown to the houseguests.
The door to the Study has unlocked once more, though the agitation of the resident is apparent in the fact that the room has been completely destroyed. The chair has been flipped, most of the drawers have been ripped from the desk, their contents scattered through the room, and shredded bits of parchment cover every surface. Ink has been spilled over the remaining paper, sticky and wet. The wall covering the Closed Closet is covered in small, bloody handprints. The room has the feeling of activity, though nothing makes itself known, and any Sensitive who enter will find themselves cold and uncomfortable, as though the violence done in the room sinks beneath their skin.
In the Nursery, the rocking chair rocks slowly back and forth, as though someone sits within it. Over the crib, the mobile plays a quiet song, constantly turning to sooth an unseen infant.
As the last chime tolls for night, all of the Children look up from whatever they were doing. There is no panic or urgency in their actions, but they begin to return toward the hall beyond the Ballroom, forming a line as they follow one another. They walk in an unsteady single file, but eventually the turn a corner within the hall and disappear without a trace.
In the Third House the chair in the Leather Study moves constantly, as though someone sits in it, working on something on the table. But it remains unseen, and will not bother anyone who enters.
Shion and Nicolas seem oddly quiet, and Shion may even tolerate being handed to strangers. They will rest easily and do not seem to be effected by the sickness making its way through the house.
The Blue Kitchen flares into a state of rotting disease once more, knife standing tip first in the middle of the counter. Food rots on surfaces, flies hover and rats run riot. The scent of decay is overpowering for anyone nearby, walls damp and clammy and heat oppressive. Voices whisper, too overlapped to discern individual words, slowly growing in volume with the buzz of insects.
As it reaches a peak, the cacophony ceases abruptly. The room slowly fades of color as it returns to normal, then flickers and is as it always has been once more.
The Gallery flares, lit brightly momentarily as it returns to a state of madness. People hang from the rafters once more, and the destruction appears to have reached a peak. The sound of sobbing echoes through the room, a woman's voice pleading and apologizing. Writing covers the walls, I'm Sorry. I tried. WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN? Help us, please! Why have you forsaken me? Forgive me. It repeats endlessly, overlaps paintings. Statues are tipped over, as if in a chaotic fit of emotion.
The woman's voice lapses into a shrill shriek, then the room fades of color. It flickers, and returns to normal. No writing remains, and everything is as it once was. The previously destroyed image of Don and the child has been propped up against the wall under the frame it previously inhabited.
The Wax Bedroom flares once more into life, melting from some invisible heat with alarming speed. The wax figure drops from where it had been on all fours, curls up in a fetal position before the whole the scene seems to rapidly rewind, flicker and return to its original state. The wax figure is once more in its hiding place. It is as if nothing strange ever happened
The Husk Room finishes its cycle, with somewhat dramatic effect. The lantern falls, voices still echoing from an unseen source, but this time it hits the floor. Flames lick outwards, heat flares and the room is engulfed in the inferno. It flares out of control, will burn anyone too close to the room at midnight.
As the last chime of midnight passes, though, the flames die down and the room returns to its burnt out state.
Everything has returned to normal, and all is still.
Throughout the house, all sensitives will find themselves faced with the pervasive smell of rot and decay. It is as if something dead and something molding have been left out in the swampy heat of summer with no regard for the effects. No source can be found, the scent turning stomachs without end. It seems to be centered in the Attic.
The night seems uneventful; the halls are silent, the kitchens are safe and no monster stirs within the house. It seems apparent that no harm will come to any of the guests.
((ooc: Our winners of the lottery are Abi, Akito, Dugan, G, Jeff, Liz, Maia, Mukuro, Orihime, and Rei. Each of you will be contacted by one of the mods shortly to begin plotting the character changes. Remember that you can make or receive suggestions!
And we're replacing one sign up with another because it's that time again! Experiments are coming up within the next few weeks, so reply here to sign up; we'll be drawing for seven names in two weeks time.))
The loss of color effecting the Ballroom begins to extend to the Parlor, leaving it seeming muted and strange.
Nothing appears in the fireplace, the stones cold and untouched by flame.
In All bathrooms nothing more troubling than a dripping faucet makes itself known.
The Hallways remain empty; no barks break the silence of the night, no movement disturbs the stillness. Houseguests may notice their footsteps unnaturally loud and echoing strangely, sometimes even sounding as though someone else is following them closely. In spite of this, however, and their shadows occasionally moving in ways they shouldn't, no danger makes itself known.
The Doctor’s Wing is dark, the nurse gone from her desk, the lights turned off. The doors are all locked, and the Doctor appears to not be in residence. No one entering the Waiting Room will find themselves in any danger.
The house is incredibly hot, the heat haze and the rising temperature making it easy to lose track of what the guests might have been doing. The desire to remain still is prevalent, and for some the worsening symptoms of the sickness do not help. The houseguests may find some relief in the Basement and beyond, all of which seems to be measurably cooler than the house itself. Even so, any who linger here will find themselves gripped by a steadily mounting tension, an anxious state of suspense that only grows worse the longer their uneventful stay lasts.
Those who caught the illness originally may start to exhibit worse symptoms; open sores in their throats and ears, trouble swallowing, vomiting, higher fevers, tiredness, bloody noses, and hallucinations. These do not present with everyone, and some may not display anything beyond the original symptoms, but for those that do they will find the night made even more unpleasant by their misery.
All who have yet to feel the effects will soon find that that has changed. Setting in with muggy warmth of night, they become feverish-- and eventually worse. The symptoms may not graduate past the earliest signs, but no organic house guest can escape the pervading tendrils of sickness.
At the onset of night, all companions begin to fret a little more than normal. Their anxiety, while not particularly high or smothering, does not seem to cease. In addition, they too seem to have begun to fall ill by whatever plagues the house, lethargy and fever overtaking them. They remain close to their pairs, however, worried for their health though they are now less defensive.
The Mist from the Greenhouse begins to invade the hallways, the fog shot through with the suggestion of color and is cool to the touch. It effectively cripples the ability to judge distance of anyone who enters it, and makes it easy to get lost if the houseguest should run through it. It does not seem to have any other effects, or cause any harm to those who enter it. The mist adds an additional hazard to the heat of the night, the edges playing tricks on perception, making the housguests see things that aren’t there. The almost solid barrier also causes sound to carry strangely, making it impossible to judge just what is real and what is merely a trick of the light.
The Fireflies dance in the mist, never lingering for long outside of it. They offer the houseguests a safe feeling, encouraging them to linger near the strange spots of light.
The Dark Bedroom is full of shadows, but though they move and will touch the house-guests, they seem to cause little harm. Their bodies are cold, and weigh a considerable amount for a creature made of shadow, but their claws remain sheathed and harmless.
As quickly as she appeared, Ricci vanishes once more, leaving nothing behind to indicate that she had been there at all. Should anyone be near her when she is taken, they will see a brief moment of irritation, though she makes no sound as it seems like something drags her away.
Lock vanishes from the Library, gone the moment someone looks away from him without a trace.
The Lady In White stirs on the couch before she also fades from view.
Those who might normally find themselves stalked by The Little Girl will find that she has also vanished from their perception.
The Sensitive will find themselves warm, untroubled by the coldness that so often haunts them. Those who sense the presence of spirits will find themselves relaxing, unable to feel anything straying near to them.
Those walking through the house might notice a strange effect, especially those walking through the hallways of the Second House, will notice that the mirrors do not show their reflection.
The music boxes in the Princess Bedroom have all been wound and will continue to play through the night, though whatever is winding them remains unseen and unknown to the houseguests.
The door to the Study has unlocked once more, though the agitation of the resident is apparent in the fact that the room has been completely destroyed. The chair has been flipped, most of the drawers have been ripped from the desk, their contents scattered through the room, and shredded bits of parchment cover every surface. Ink has been spilled over the remaining paper, sticky and wet. The wall covering the Closed Closet is covered in small, bloody handprints. The room has the feeling of activity, though nothing makes itself known, and any Sensitive who enter will find themselves cold and uncomfortable, as though the violence done in the room sinks beneath their skin.
In the Nursery, the rocking chair rocks slowly back and forth, as though someone sits within it. Over the crib, the mobile plays a quiet song, constantly turning to sooth an unseen infant.
As the last chime tolls for night, all of the Children look up from whatever they were doing. There is no panic or urgency in their actions, but they begin to return toward the hall beyond the Ballroom, forming a line as they follow one another. They walk in an unsteady single file, but eventually the turn a corner within the hall and disappear without a trace.
In the Third House the chair in the Leather Study moves constantly, as though someone sits in it, working on something on the table. But it remains unseen, and will not bother anyone who enters.
Shion and Nicolas seem oddly quiet, and Shion may even tolerate being handed to strangers. They will rest easily and do not seem to be effected by the sickness making its way through the house.
The Blue Kitchen flares into a state of rotting disease once more, knife standing tip first in the middle of the counter. Food rots on surfaces, flies hover and rats run riot. The scent of decay is overpowering for anyone nearby, walls damp and clammy and heat oppressive. Voices whisper, too overlapped to discern individual words, slowly growing in volume with the buzz of insects.
As it reaches a peak, the cacophony ceases abruptly. The room slowly fades of color as it returns to normal, then flickers and is as it always has been once more.
The Gallery flares, lit brightly momentarily as it returns to a state of madness. People hang from the rafters once more, and the destruction appears to have reached a peak. The sound of sobbing echoes through the room, a woman's voice pleading and apologizing. Writing covers the walls, I'm Sorry. I tried. WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN? Help us, please! Why have you forsaken me? Forgive me. It repeats endlessly, overlaps paintings. Statues are tipped over, as if in a chaotic fit of emotion.
The woman's voice lapses into a shrill shriek, then the room fades of color. It flickers, and returns to normal. No writing remains, and everything is as it once was. The previously destroyed image of Don and the child has been propped up against the wall under the frame it previously inhabited.
The Wax Bedroom flares once more into life, melting from some invisible heat with alarming speed. The wax figure drops from where it had been on all fours, curls up in a fetal position before the whole the scene seems to rapidly rewind, flicker and return to its original state. The wax figure is once more in its hiding place. It is as if nothing strange ever happened
The Husk Room finishes its cycle, with somewhat dramatic effect. The lantern falls, voices still echoing from an unseen source, but this time it hits the floor. Flames lick outwards, heat flares and the room is engulfed in the inferno. It flares out of control, will burn anyone too close to the room at midnight.
As the last chime of midnight passes, though, the flames die down and the room returns to its burnt out state.
Everything has returned to normal, and all is still.
Throughout the house, all sensitives will find themselves faced with the pervasive smell of rot and decay. It is as if something dead and something molding have been left out in the swampy heat of summer with no regard for the effects. No source can be found, the scent turning stomachs without end. It seems to be centered in the Attic.
The night seems uneventful; the halls are silent, the kitchens are safe and no monster stirs within the house. It seems apparent that no harm will come to any of the guests.
((ooc: Our winners of the lottery are Abi, Akito, Dugan, G, Jeff, Liz, Maia, Mukuro, Orihime, and Rei. Each of you will be contacted by one of the mods shortly to begin plotting the character changes. Remember that you can make or receive suggestions!
And we're replacing one sign up with another because it's that time again! Experiments are coming up within the next few weeks, so reply here to sign up; we'll be drawing for seven names in two weeks time.))
