[ A - Library, morning to early afternoon ]

Well, this is a rare sight, considering the firebrand doesn't come into the library all too often (and thankfully so considering the fire hazard), but apparently today the shadow exists without its flame. But at the moment there is a raven, or rather a man-who-is-a-raven-but-not-at-this-exact-moment seated at one of the less obviously visible desks.

At first glance he seems to be poring laboriously over one of the many tomes to be found here, taking down notes with a piece of charcoal as he goes, but closer examination reveals that actually? Actually he is just scrawling in the margins of whatever unfortunate book he's happened to deem relatively useless at the moment. Emphasis scrawling.

It also seems to be a couple of the same things over and over, though what language that even is in or what it is supposed to say is up for debate. His handwriting doesn't seem to be able to decide whether it's supposed to be messy or elegant, and that's after the awkwardness of, well, writing with one's off hand.

"...Convenient way to find out you're right-handed," he mutters to himself eventually.

So why isn't he writing with his right hand, then? After all, beneath the cloak he's wearing it seems to be fine... It's more that side of the cloak that seems to be more strangely in disarray than anything.

[ B - Hearth Room, off and on throughout the day ]

At various points in the day, the valravn makes the long trek down the stairs (made far, far too long by the inability to simply pitch himself off the top of it and fly down) and into the cozy warmth of the hearth room, though he looks uncomfortable about it for as long as it takes for him to make a sweep of the room and leave (longer than it should normally be. his movements are somewhat... hindered).

He's looking for someone, specifically the page, but it seems he keeps missing them, even though he knows he's seen them in passing here before... Unfortunately, he doesn't know the page's habits well enough to guess where else they might be.

This might require a different approach.

But hey, while he's there, certain changelings may or may not have some choice things to say to him, right?

[ C - Grand Hall, door to Dining Hall; NOT A PROMPT unless people want to do reactions, but he will not be present for this ]

At some point in the afternoon, this is found to be written onto the Dining Room door in simple, printed script. Why that door? Because everyone has to eat at some point.

There's a spirit in the gardens. It was released from one of the potions belonging to the room adjacent to the hearth room. It's proven to be hostile and dangerous.

Please be careful.

The please is somewhat scuffed out. It's unsigned, and the handwriting doesn't seem to resemble any of those that were on the board the gargoyle had been protecting two nights previous.

( seen the anger and seen all of the dreams )

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.]]

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?"

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.

subtleserenity

It's time to do something constructive. All she's done for the past few days is destroy. Furniture, tapestries, books... the record player. Everywhere she looks, there is the sign of an unchecked rage. These might be people, and she'd helped to kill them before they even woke in the vain hope that it would somehow undermine Mason. A chair is not a house. And the people she'd threatened, yelled at, frightened, they hadn't deserved any of that either. Time to make amends.

Trinity had mentioned searching in the Grand Hall where the doors went on seemingly forever. Angel had thought perhaps they could check for a study. After learning about those notes the twins had gone through, and finding the burning bullet they need to know more. Much more than might be contained in just the secret Hearth Room. It will likely require more searchers than the last round... and hopefully it would not lead to more memories of being the Keeper's rifle. However useful that had been, it made remembering who she should be all the harder.

Scenario A (For those whom Brimstone menaced or otherwise wronged during the flowers plot)
There are those who need an apology before they can be enlisted. She knows they're likely to be frightened of her or angry. Or both. When she sights one of them, she approaches with caution. Her gun is secure in her holster and she has no intention of removing it as she holds her hands up in a placating gesture. She's not very good with apologies, but she tries.

"Those flowers turned my head somethin' powerful. Didn't mean none of the things I said to you. Name's Brimstone. If there's somethin' I can do to make it right between us, go on and tell me. More interested in allies than enemies, place like this."

Scenario B (For current allies and non-enemy acquaintances)
Then there are those who have not been wronged, or at least not so horribly as others. They are allies or acquaintances she's acquired in dreams and in the waking world. For these she attempts a bit of humor. It might smooth over her own rough edges after been sheered to something raw and wild with those flowers.

"Lookin' to cause trouble that don't involve shootin' the house up. You interested in helpin'? Got a notion at least some of those doors in the Great Hall open if you keep at it long enough."

Scenario C (For those Brimstone has not yet met or might consider enemies)
A beggar can't be a chooser, and there are at least hundreds of doors in the Grand Hall, if not thousands. Brimstone knows the only sensible option is to approach others in the house. There are new faces she's been passing in the halls, seen wandering the Library. There's a chance they may be interested in helping and simply asking the first time had proven there were more than a handful of folk interested in doing something constructive.

She approaches them with a thought that some of them might have come across keys or other helpful items in their scavenging of the house. "Lookin' to trade information and favors if you got a minute to spare. Keeper's got enough secrets in this house to have us lookin' a lifetime or two, but I reckon folks been findin' bits and pieces enough to start askin' the right questions. Few of us mean to find the answers if you're interested in helpin'."

medalrider

[There is a curious dinosaur wandering the house. Well, a young man who is also a dinosaur. And calling him curious is being a little generous, it would be more accurate to say nosy.

See, Dino Boy here kind of has a thing for helping those in need. He thinks it's only natural, since he's a guard, and guards protect people. He's supposed to keep the house safe. Really, that's all he knows how to do, and since his awakening all he's wanted to know was how to keep protecting everyone from inside the house. Unfortunately, he hasn't really been able to figure that out just yet. He's not going to give up, though! He can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be.

Thanks to the recent bout of house-induced weirdness, he is now faced with a perfect opportunity for Helping. Dealing with emotion-changing flowers is probably very stressful! Isn't his duty to make sure everyone is safe after such an ordeal? He's decided that it definitely is, which is why he is currently doing the aforementioned wandering, looking for people who might be in trouble. Or who were previously in trouble. Or who might get into trouble in the future. Who are sentient, really.

He just wants to make sure everyone is okay! Which apparently means sticking his scaly nose into the business of whoever he comes across.]

[ooc: action or prose is cool with me!!]

nosentimentalist

[Now that the business with the flowers was done, and the typewriter was back to his regular snarky self, it was time to start what he had been thinking of for a while- an investigation, of course. Not exactly an investigation of the house, but of the beings inside of it. It would be good to keep a list or something of all the ones who had gained consciousness, so he could see how many there were and what they had in common.]

[So, if you're human-shaped, moving, and/or breathing, you'll come face to face with this typewriter with abnormally shiny glasses perched on his nose, an empty book and a pen in hand. Well, he'll type up what he finds, of course, but he'd rather not waste his own ink while jotting down notes on everyone he meets.]

May I ask you a few questions? [He bows his head politely- hey, when one did these things, it wasn't exactly good to start off snarky. He'll be nice for now.] I'm doing a sort of list, you see. Just something to keep track of everyone who lives in this house.

I'd just like to know what you are, what name you'd like to go by - if you have one- and how long ago was it when you "woke up". Also, if you don't mind, could you briefly describe the dream you had before you did so? It's alright if you don't want to share, I'm just trying to find similarities between them.

Is that understandable?

[ooc: Yep, Keats is literally doing a sort of registry for the entire house! I'll actually make it over here, I'll update it with whatever information he gets. :)]

justbeclaws

She's not speaking to Mason still (not that he's speaking to her, but as a matter of principle), so she's been spending a lot of time in the garden lately, getting to know the trees and spreading bushes suitable for catnapping under, making sure to practice the skills her lusus taught her. It feels like a double defiance that way.

Flowers aren't of any particular interest to her, so she doesn't notice the opening blossoms. Nor does she notice the little stinging insects, not until several of them have landed on her as she catnaps under a bush.

She wakes with a start. What possessed her to sleep somewhere so open, when she knows there are enemies about? She doesn't have anyone here to watch her back. Anything could have happened. This isn't safe!

She has to get out of here. The vines, the creeping unstoppable vines, came from the garden. This place is full of dangers! But the house - Mason is the house. That may be even worse! There's no safe place at all!

She hesitates, cowering under her bush, which at least hides her from casual sight, but suddenly she realizes - her other body, it's in the house, alone, defenceless. If somebody were to find it - she has to be there to defend herself! She has to get back to it as soon as possible! If she makes it to her den, maybe nobody will see her, not even Mason.

She turns for the house, trying to fluff herself up so she seems bigger (she feels very, very small).

[OOC: Feel free to encounter her at any point from the garden to the library! Action tags or prose, either is good.]

yourkeepers

[For all your kissing needs.]

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.

yourkeepers

Bewitched by the thorn's touch, you have been ensnared in the deepest of sleep. Fortunately for you, the world of Faerie doesn't end with the waking.

The world of your dreams is brighter now, more clear than you've ever witnessed it. You've been it before, you think, there fragments of yourself become reality. But now you are somehow more lucid in its presence, and it's more real - something you can reach out and touch.

You find yourself in this world, and you are not alone. Your dreams and those of other join at the edges, pulling into each other along similar threads.

And you are watched by something even greater.

xanthous

This has to be one of the worst things to happen to him in recent memory. He doesn't have many memories to compare this to, but that's not important. What is important is that he doesn't have a damn thing to do.

He's going to go insane, at this rate.

He doesn't have a purpose right now. Nobody's dead, nobody's dying, and it certainly doesn't seem like anyone's going to be dying any time soon, which is unfortunate and irritating. This lack of death has left him with far too much free time that he doesn't know how to spend. Currently he's spending his time sitting on stairs in the Great Hall, knees drawn up to his chest as stares out glumly. He's been sitting there for longer than he'd like to admit, with a curtain wrapped around his shoulders and covering him almost entirely. A part of him loathes having to resort to using a curtain as a blanket - but it's better than some unobservant moron not noticing he's there because he blends into the surroundings.

So he sits there and he frowns, and after a while - hours - he starts to grow restless, and he begins to methodically tear strips from the curtain. There's no purpose to it, but he's going to do it anyways and anyone who waltzes through the Great Hall will see him laying the strips out on the steps and might even have one shoved into their hands if they get close enough.

justbeclaws

No one not intimately familiar with the library would notice, but there have been some rearrangements of furniture in one particular out-of-the-way corner. Said corner, and the burnished oak desk inside it, are screened from the stacks even more than they already were, inaccessible to anyone unwilling to climb over some extremely uncomfortable-looking chairs.

Or crawl under them, of course.

Her den arranged to her immediate satisfaction, the typewriter makes her way forth in search of something less immediately satisfying: the lay of the land. She wants to know where things are, including people (and people who are also things). And who knows, perhaps there will be information hidden somewhere about the house and its Keeper, secrets not even Mason knows.

It seems right to her that a moderately stealthy expedition (there's no reason to be stealthy, particularly, but she doesn't really trust anything around her) should take place in the morning. Whether or not she's right about this remains to be seen.

mazeonry

[It doesn't take long after the initial, most violent outbursts for it to happen. A new voice speaks - one that seems to radiate throughout the house. From within, like a part of it. The voice is surprisingly young and on the masculine side, like a young man that has finally run out of patience and is now intent on taking it out on everyone else.]

That is IT! I've about had it with every single one of you! You had better get back to your places post haste or I am well done playing nice!

Come on now! Things, go sit somewhere and look pretty. You others - I don't know, go sit somewhere! I don't care! Just stop wrecking things!

[ooc: Mason can speak to every room in the house at once, but can also narrow it down to specific areas and people. If you reply to him, start a thread stating in the subject line where your character is at the time! He can, in fact, affect your surroundings, so be careful!

PS: characters will initially have no idea who Mason actually is.]

yourkeepers


	THE LIBRARY

A matchless compendium of knowledge, the Library is a collection of information and lore gathered from across the entire multiverse. Most of it is in foreign tongues that cannot be read, or in some cases even comprehended, and it is organized into seven different wings based on content. That is, most of the time - occasionally an eighth wing will materialize from the corner of one's eye, filled with ancient books and swathed in delicate, shimmery cobwebs. Its appearances cannot be predicted, and most often vanish before they can be explored.

Changed Social

Entries tagged with the disciple

they close the doors and are letting nobody in ♞ open, one semi-closed prompt; Day 22 VARIOUS

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

What do you know? What do we know?

PLEASE HELP

HEARTS IN DARKNESS: THE NEXT VICTIM

HEARTS IN DARKNESS: THE BODY

HEARTS IN DARKNESS: WAKING UP

Don't Take Your Guns to Town | Day 15 - All Day | Multiple Places | Open

hands, reaching out, etc | day 14, morning onward, anywhere | open

It's like he's the census or something. / Day 14 / EVERYWHERE/ OPEN

Scaredy-cat | Day 13, morning, garden & elsewhere | Open

SLEEPING BEAUTIES EPILOGUE: THE KISS

We Didn't Start the Fire (Yes We Did) | DAY 6: Nightfall

SLEEPING BEAUTIES: DREAM LOG

so little to do, too much damn time | day four, late evening, open

What's this? What's this? There's weird shit everywhere | Day Four, Morning [OPEN]

MASON LOG: THE FIRST [OPEN]

OPENING MINGLE LOG: THE LIBRARY

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