Ever since the cold started, Lights has been in varying states of miserable. It's definitely not a temperature that is friendly towards the nude, and in his case, covering himself is also blinding himself. Which is not something his already stoked paranoia can already handle.

He's sitting near the hearth, curled up into a tight little ball, shivering. The fire definitely helps, but even so his extremities keep getting cold.

He really needs to suck it up, but he's scared being unprotected.

yourkeepers


	THE GAMES ROOM

With a notably more busy and less elegant decor than the other areas, the Games Room is a treasure trove of personal entertainment both electronic and otherwise. A number of old fashioned arcade machines line its mirrored walls, and towards its back end is shelve after heaping shelve of board games and cards. While it suffers the same problem as the library in that most of the games are written in unreadable languages or concepts, at the very least it offers a pool table, a poker table with cards and chips, and a large generic gaming table towards the back. There is also another locked door.

yourkeepers


	THE STUDIO

Despite the drab colours of is actual architecture, the Studio is filled with supplies fit for creating just about any traditional piece of art you could hope for. Tables and drawers are littered with paints and other tools. There is a cabinet in the back filled with a seemingly unlimited supply of canvases. There are several pieces of art in varying levels of progress in here - the most notable of which is a large, partially abstract painting of a woman, and what appears to be an actual woman standing stone still, covered in body paint. She even appears to be alive - but completely unresponsive.

yourkeepers

When dawn finally comes, you find them.

They're hanging in the grand hall, bound - almost cocooned - in inky black thread. The bodies of the victims, the ones without their hearts, are now miraculously whole. Cold and untouched, as if those terrible wounds had never been carved into their flesh.

They hang in various positions of rest, some limbs tangled and suspended, others simply hanging limply. Their eyes all all closed. The searchlight's body is still dull silver. The singer's hair dangles long and dark. The oracle's robes pristine.

It's like they've been left here for you, within your reach. The rest is in your hands.

yourkeepers

[There's been a third murder, and a witness to the scene has named a culprit! The chase has taken the group to the Dining Hall - this is open to all, but please keep it to one free for all thread, though you may split off for one on one actions if its appropriate.]

When you arrive in the Dining Hall, the darkness is alive. Like the very shadows, the air around you, is living and breathing - you can feel its cold touch, its heartbeat. It grows ever stronger.

You can't see up on the table from the floor, but you can hear it. You can see the glow, like a void with brightness on its edges. You can hear someone bickering.

His dark work nearly completed, the shadow's keeper revelled in his victory. The spirit of the dagger sung in his head, guiding his hand as he burned intricate sigils and spirals into the wood of the table. It celebrated with him. It praised its imminent release. Effulgent darkness and the light of fire worked in tandem.

'At last,' the spirit said.

“I don’t think this is right,” the kitchen fire says from up top, as if speaking aloud to himself. “But okay. If you say so!” A beat. “Do you even know how hands work, Mr. Darkness Incarnate? Have you ever even had hands?”

His work is hasty as he moves across the wooden surface. All three hearts are with him, still glowing, positioned around him and enclosed in magical circles, connected by a series of lines. He uses a large tome for reference as he draws - the one written in High Tongues, the spellbook from the magical room.

“Oh, well, if you usually have so many hands, maybe that’s why you keep making mistakes like this when there’s only two!”

Little did he realize, his enemies, led by a rifle with vengeance in her heart, were already almost upon him. That his reckless efforts had at last betrayed his true motivations.

The darkness hissed its discomfort as the sacredness of their ritual was desecrated.

It speaks on the edges of your mind, like whispers just beneath your range of hearing. But as you enter the dining hall you feel...guided. Like something is describing your actions even as you commit to them..

”What’re you think you’re doing?” demanded Brimstone, barrel set on the table as she gestured for her comrades to cover the exits. There was murder in her steely eyes. The bastard was here!

And soon, there would be payback!

fuzzyduck

Nothing new in the notice board. Or, at least, nothing that Copper considers useful to her. We're gonna get you, motherfucker, she wrote - fat lot of good that did. Not that she expected the culprit to turn themselves in, sure, but the point is that there is far, far less progress than she'd like.

She wanders off without paying much attention to where she's going and her thoughts wander too. She saw both of the bodies, mutilated, still bleeding. She thinks. To her, they still smelled nauseatingly like blood. Not that that was of any help in finding the killer, either. It was maddening. She thinks back to when she first saw each of the bodies; she tries to remember which scents she felt permeating the area. She tries. She remembers...

( cw for violence/gore/death )

yourkeepers

It starts with a scream.

It pierces with a depth that you've never felt before - so high and terrible that it hits like a physical blow against your body and mind. It leaves a terrible headache in its wake, like you've just been blugeoned, if you're close enough to hear. And it fades all too abruptly.

It come from the lower grand hall, near to the others but seperate enough for privacy. The next thing you hear is a cry for help from Coolkid, the darkling teen. When you arrive, he's covered in glittering pink blood. Aria is cut upon at his feet.

She's dead, and her heart is taken, just like the others. Her eyes are still wide in death, as her long hair soaks in the blood of her gaping wounds.

The boy seems unfocused and disorientated. There's no one else there. Nothing but the dark.

ironspirit

Maybe, just maybe, running off on his own had been a poor choice. The firebrand considers this as he carefully makes his way through the inner gardens, dimming his flames so as not to burn every tree and bush within reach. The darkness feels even more oppressive with only the twin flames burning over his head, but even if burning down the gardens would generate a lot of light, it's still a terrible idea.

It was the first place he thought of, once he noticed the familiar aura of unpleasantness was missing. Maybe Shadow just wandered off for a bit and is perfectly fine. But there's still a murderer lurking about, and it's dangerous to be alone in the dark, and what if something happens to him or he's already in trouble... the more the firebrand thinks about the possibilities, the more anxious he gets. He doesn't want something bad to happen to the raven.

The anxiousness only gets worse the more he searches, though. It's too dark to see more than a few feet past the trees, even with his natural lighting. Is that enough light to be safe? But didn't both of the victims glow, so even if he makes a lot of light he's still at risk? Did the fire make him more at risk??

"Shaaaaadooow!" he calls out into the darkness. When there's still no answer, he quickens his pace, eyeing the trees nervously. "Are you in here?"

( than falling out of darkness still to see )

knightwinged

The raven looks quite a sight as he stumbles through the doorway to the gardens, and for a moment he just lingers there, not quite leaning against the wall but not quite looking like he's supporting his own weight either. He actually looks quite a sight because despite the darkness and despite his colouring, he's quite visible at the moment, eyes a luminous white and his whole body suffused in a softly flickering light of the same shade—which does indeed look quite strange when it like the candles has its brilliance dampened by his presence and yet not at the same time.

The moment passes quickly, however, and in the next he's taking flight. His movements are forced in a way that doesn't seem to have to do with how ragged and worn he looks (and it'd probably be worse if it weren't for his constant state of obscurity) or the way one of his wings doesn't seem to be moving in a manner that looks quite right.

But for the most part, there's nothing wrong.

You know, except for the part where he's indiscriminately lashing out at whatever happens to be within his vicinity, both with the sting of talon and something else, because marks tear themselves into the walls, onto the doors, through the candlesticks without his ever touching them. Possibly some tables are flipped.

Yeah, maybe not a good idea to just stand around. Getting out of the way might be a start.

[[ooc: multiple threads, piling into one; action, prose, whatever works, go for it! obviously safety is not guaranteed but that's overrated anyway, right? right.]]

heirred

A. "YOU." to any member of the fire nation or anyone who looks to be made of a hard metal. "Where were you when Lights was killed? What's you alibi, huh?!"

You can bet he's getting in your face.

B. When that yeilds no results, the frustration gets the best of him.

"Asshole murderer!! I know you're out there!" Coolkid screams into the empty space. "Why don't you come out and show yourself!"

C. And when that predictably yields no results he starts calling for a different ominous being.

"Mason!" he yells, before going over to the walls. Placing his hands on them is all it takes for him to rot through his structure, trying anything to get his attention.

"You better answer me while you still can you bulgesuck!"

D. Finally after fuming and fretting, worry settles over him. He sits, feeling defeated, closing his eyes and trying to replace the fear in his heart with the calm of the darkness around him. A strange feeling settles over him. A weight in his chest, but not anything uncomfortable, simply a presence, as though something is calling out to him. He turns around, suddenly feeling as though he's being watched. There's no one there, and even though he can see in the dark just fine, he has to call out, to check.

"Hello?"

grotesqueobserver

Grand Hall

In the Great Hall, candles have been arranged around a section of wall, illuminating what appears to be some kind of message.

PLEASE HELP

The Oracle and the Light have been murdered by a person or persons unknown. If you have ANY information that can help, PLEASE write it here. We need to consolidate information as much as possible.

ORACLE
--heart removed and placed in body of bird woman in hidden room
--last seen alive ???
--throat cut to prevent calling out, probable cause of death. Heart removed postmortem.

LIGHT
--last seen alive ~~???~~ after discovery of Oracle's heart, between hidden room and library. Intended to stand watch in grand hall?
--killed in hidden room, body left at murder scene --> Brought from GH to scene? Following someone? Maybe knew killer?
--definite signs of a struggle, nails broken -- struggling w/ something hard??
--gaping wounds in chest/neck, heart removed, heart still missing
--trail of ash/charcoal --> hearth room
--blood of victim on hearth room stairs -- from murder weapon??? heart???
--squawk box removed from throat and stored in same cavity Oracle's heart found -- why???

OTHER NOTES
--Motive: Some kind of ritual sacrifice? To what end?
--Murder Weapon: Magical dagger. Black (obsidian?), causes sickness and sensation of being watched when touched.
My key to the White Room was taken from me. [signed by a basic picture of a clock face]
It wasn't me, I have an ~~alleby~~ ~~allibi~~^?? (Alibi) [with a tiny arrow pointing to the clockface, signed by a shitty picture of a sword with fire on it. The last "Alibi" is written in the same handwriting as the original note.]
I know it wasn't you. [signed by a clock face]

we're gonna get you motherfucker

All those killed were fairest.
All those killed glowed.
Victims do not have burns.
Don't step out of the light.
Scary gecko ghost in gardens
Did the murderer cause the lights to go out?

A.

A small pile of charcoal has been left near one of the candles, giving plenty of material to write with, but there seems to be no one around.

((OOC: Post to write stuff on the wall! I will try to keep the OP updated with the notes people leave. If you would like to leave an anonymous note, post anon here!))

B.

The gargoyle has camped himself out near the board, and looks hopefully at those who come in. "I'm trying to get as much information as I can," he explains, gesturing to the wall. "I thought maybe if we gather all the information in one place we can stop who did this. Have you seen anything...you know, suspicious?"

crabhammer

The crab keeps on seeing people investigating things, but for all the diligent clue-rummaging that presumably is getting done here, he still has no idea what the hell is going on, and from what he can work out the people looking for clues don't seem to be doing much liasing with each other.

It's inefficient, and more to the point if he has no idea what's going on then other people must not, either – which means they're way more likely to wind up on the receiving end of another mystery homicide due to lack of information and the whole thing will start all over again.

He is very concerned, and also pretty damn irritated at how incorrectly he feels everybody is dealing with this. Irritation is convenient. Irritation is certainly easier to deal with than fear.

So, having left the hearth fire in the hearth room with moderate certainty that his double is sitting tight there for the time being, he quits his monster shape, removes the candles from his shoulders, and finds himself a decently sized metal pot.

He takes that up in one hand and one of the candles in the other. Then he sets off down the length of the grand hall, banging the bottom of the pot with the hard carapaced knuckles of his other hand and managing, just, not to extinguish the candle.

"HEY ASSHOLES," he yells in between bangs, "GET OUT HERE, I AM CALLING A HOUSE MEETING, IT IS NOT OPTIONAL!"

(ooc: feel free to make multiple new threads in response to this, but jumping into existing ones is also totally acceptable! EDIT: I am going to combine replies to some of these threads to avoid too much repetition, because I got more separate ones than I was anticipating C: New folks are still welcome to jump in!)

yourkeepers

Maybe you were expecting it, maybe you weren't. But the body count doesn't remain at one for long.

Hardly even an hour after everything started, there's been another victim claimed - another light, extinguished.

When someone eventually returns to the hidden room connected to the heart, they will find Lights curled up on the floor, freshly killed. The door is open, the the faint shimmer of his remains can be seen from outside. The counter behind him shows signs of a struggle - apparently overpowered, the fairest's entire front is covered with gore and blood, from his throat and all down his chest.

While the bright yellow blood that surrounds him still glows with a strange luminescence, all the light has drained from his body. For the first time, perhaps, his regular features can be observed with actual clarity, left with dim silvery skin. Pain is still etched onto his young face from the attack that led to his death. His empty eyes are still open.

His killer, nowhere to be seen.

yourkeepers

The body glimmers as the light spreads over its features, like a statue of precious metals stained with blood. Golden hair soaks in a pool of red that paints the floor like a canvas, extending out around the head and shoulders of the victim, still lazily seeping and expanding.

It's the body of the the oracle, and she is very much dead.

Her entire throat and chest is a mess of gore. The blood coats the skin and cloth so that it's hard to make out details, but there is one thing certain - something has cut deep into her chest cavity, as it carving something out from inside.

The body is still warm, but you never heard her scream.

yourkeepers

You wake in darkness.

At first, it doesn't occur to you as abnormal. The lights in a few areas of the house do dim as nightfall comes. The gardens, especially, plunge into the natural hues of evening and night. But it doesn't take you long to realize that this is different.

The darkness is intense, much thicker than you've ever seen, and it consumes everything. Every room has been plunged into the artificial night, and only with the aid of candles or torches will you find your way. It's quiet in a way that feels unwholesome, and any questions to the house will go unanswered.

The silence endures.

The more you try to figure out what's happening, the more it occurs to you - you don't remember going to sleep. You hardly remember anything about the previous evening, and you don't know how it transitioned to way it is now. The idea of it unnerves you.

And that's before you find the body.

mazeonry

[It happens in the morning of Day 14. For the first time since the vines attack, Mason is speaking publicly. More than that he sounds...delighted? Far more delighted than he's ever been heard, in fact. The first thing you hear from the house is him laughing all around you, followed by a marginally more coherent statement.]

Haha...hahahaha. Ha! Oh this is a real classic, I can't believe it. Hah! You're all so funny down there with...with those mortal bodies there and your...[snort] your stupid mortal feelings, I can't-

[He almost starts to laugh again but he manages to contain himself.]

Alright, alright, alright. Alright. [snicker] So...Right.

We've had a little bit of a mix up in the gardens. But no, no, don't get up! I've got it handled. No need to make a fuss or anything, next thing we know it's all going to be right as bloody rain.

grotesqueobserver

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The garden seemed like such a good place to relax. And when the sentry saw the flowers blooming with every color of the rainbow, he couldn't believe his luck. Or at least he couldn't until a patch of delicate, black blooms exploded in a cloud of ashy dust, doubling him over with hacking coughs.

"Son of a bitch," he growled to himself. How dare they? All he wanted was some time to himself and he gets poisoned? After all he'd done for the house! But no, they'd taken him away from his duty, his Master, everything. It's not fair. And he's not going to fucking take it anymore.

"Son of a bitch!" The rest becomes an incoherent snarl, and he dives for the patch of flowers, ripping and tearing until there's nothing left but dirt and shreds of black petals. It doesn't make him feel better; the pollen inadvertantly released in his frenzy just makes it worse, and the world becomes a red haze.

Someone needs to pay. Someone needs to pay right now.

One can find Jeff just by following the trail of claw-marks on every surface he's passed on the way to the lounge. Walls are gouged and dented, fabric is shredded, and anything remotely portable has been thrown. Should someone catch up to him, he'll stop, panting, staring at them with wide, insane eyes.

"This is YOUR fault!" he screams, and launches himself at the nearest warm body, teeth bared and claws out.

yourkeepers

[For all your kissing needs.]

mazeonry

[Oh boy, it's this again. Late in the night, when the vines have almost entirely filled the house, and a great deal of them are on fire, Mason finally decides to speak up. He doesn't sound pleased.]

No, no, no, no! Stop! Just stop, you're done, all of you are done!

You have it - you've got your truce! Just hand over those bloody fire starters and we'll call it even!

[OOC: Mason will be heard all over the house. Feel free to assume you are in the same room as other people when he does his replies. Replies will be more spotty this time, and he will probably ignore people if they aren't saying things that aren't particularly pertinent.]

fireband

[OOC: Only one event here, but feel free to break off into separate threads and free for all in reaction. Just don't have multiple people reacting to him in ways that contradict each other, is all!]

It's not entirely clear what causes him to snap. He's been fighting the vines all day, in between bouts of flight and attempts to hide. The pressure has been hard on him. It causes something in his mind to come lose, a sort of stress he is no longer built to handle weighing on his shoulders. His heart beat to fast, and his breathing comes far too quickly.

He's helped, he thinks, maybe. He's kept the vines away from himself. But it isn't enough. It's closing in, and it terrifies him, and he doesn't know what to do. And in some point that terror, that need to get away, wake up something else in him.

A time when he was with someone else, a protector, a shield. A time when she almost couldn't protect him, and when he was almost killed by a world that is filled with nothing but hate.

He comes back from that memory, and all he can think is that he wants them to burn. He wants to hurt them like he couldn't hurt them before, as anger fills his heart once again. The burning fury of that moment of his death.

It starts suddenly. His more cautious attacks explode into something much more uncontrolled and dangerous, the vines that surround him going up in flames almost instantly.

It's hard to even recognize him after that, with the way that the molten veins have opened up all over his body, the way his eyes are nothing but fire.

He yells something primal, his skin blackening with heat, as he summons up the flames around them, screaming for them to burn hotter and brighter and to consume everything that would hurt him. He pushes his way into the Hall, the numerous vines there burning in a way that is far too uncontrolled to be safe for nearly anyone.

He doesn't think about that. He can't think about that. It's so much easier if he just burns like he's supposed to.

Changed Social

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if you're seeing things running through your head, who can you call ♞ THE GRAND HALL; OPEN

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PLEASE HELP

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HEARTS IN DARKNESS: WAKING UP

MASON LOG: THE THIRD [OPEN]

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MASON LOG: SLEEPING BEAUTIES [OPEN]

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