Victi Aurora Silverfur (played by Avitrathephoenix)
Paranormal Investigator
November 21 2023
12:56pm
"This is gorgeous!" Vivienne gasps, gaze immediately dancing all across the shelves, tables, windows, and myriad decorations. She strides in with an eager energy, long legs letting her practically flow into the middle of the space and seamlessly move to head up the stairs. She slows as she climbs, taking in the moment as she rises toward the loft, passing shelf after shelf of dusty tomes, but returns to speed once she's at the top, walking swiftly over to the big desk. If she were alone, she would have indulged in a full goblin-mode cackle of excitement, but restrains herself to silent, grinning awe for now.
She runs her fingers over the desk and murmurs, "You're definitely full of secrets, aren't you?"
A few deep, steadying breaths later she begins to think out loud again, pacing and listing off, "Okay, step one, determining if or how this thing is organized, this could still be an absolute disaster if nobody with some basic library sciences knowledge has been through here in most of a century. Step two is finding documentation about the house, and possibly journals, so that I'm aware of where issues could be hiding. I bet there are at least a few sets of servants' passages, and checking all parts of the foundation will be important. Three is journals or documentation of events so that I can put together a timeline and picture of what all went down, what, if anything, it correlates to. Four will be looking for things like instructions for rituals, antique medicine, weird science, and anything like that which could hint at what people were up to here and what that could mean."
If 'Bastian has followed her up the stairs she whips around to face him, fists on her hips, and says, "Alright, figuring out organization style. Let's get started!"
[Vivienne is currently in the Library!]
She runs her fingers over the desk and murmurs, "You're definitely full of secrets, aren't you?"
A few deep, steadying breaths later she begins to think out loud again, pacing and listing off, "Okay, step one, determining if or how this thing is organized, this could still be an absolute disaster if nobody with some basic library sciences knowledge has been through here in most of a century. Step two is finding documentation about the house, and possibly journals, so that I'm aware of where issues could be hiding. I bet there are at least a few sets of servants' passages, and checking all parts of the foundation will be important. Three is journals or documentation of events so that I can put together a timeline and picture of what all went down, what, if anything, it correlates to. Four will be looking for things like instructions for rituals, antique medicine, weird science, and anything like that which could hint at what people were up to here and what that could mean."
If 'Bastian has followed her up the stairs she whips around to face him, fists on her hips, and says, "Alright, figuring out organization style. Let's get started!"
[Vivienne is currently in the Library!]
Sebastian pondered over what she’d answered, wondering if maybe he could become a sensationalist content creator. Unfortunately, he was a terrible actor and wasn’t very good at being in society, so that thought withered and died on the branch.
He was only a few steps behind her in her stride, his pace much less hurried, but his long legs carried him as true as her’s. From his peripheral, it sort of looked like someone could be sitting in one of the armchairs enjoying a story. He could only see the top of someone’s head above the back of the chair, and he didn’t think to look further.
While Vivienne swooned over the desk, Sebastian stood near the stairs… but not in a position fit to accidentally be pushed down them… His lips parted to ask if she needed some privacy with the thing, but she interrupted the comment when she whipped around to face him and pronounce their first step.
He sniffed back a mild run to his nose, then mosied over to a filing cabinet behind the desk. It was locked of course, which turned his attention to the desk itself. Like an oaf, he began pulling out drawers to examine their contents for anything useful.
“The big man… What's his face… Fischer. He mentioned something about some journals, I know he’d been poking around up here on his last trip in.” Bastian called over his shoulder, eventually moving across the room to some open shelves. He could tell Vivienne was frothing to go through the desk herself and his presence at it was bothersome, which was amusing of course.
Above them, the fallen leaves pasted to the glass dome ceiling were pulled at by the wind outside, fluttering their edges and ripping a few free.
He was only a few steps behind her in her stride, his pace much less hurried, but his long legs carried him as true as her’s. From his peripheral, it sort of looked like someone could be sitting in one of the armchairs enjoying a story. He could only see the top of someone’s head above the back of the chair, and he didn’t think to look further.
While Vivienne swooned over the desk, Sebastian stood near the stairs… but not in a position fit to accidentally be pushed down them… His lips parted to ask if she needed some privacy with the thing, but she interrupted the comment when she whipped around to face him and pronounce their first step.
He sniffed back a mild run to his nose, then mosied over to a filing cabinet behind the desk. It was locked of course, which turned his attention to the desk itself. Like an oaf, he began pulling out drawers to examine their contents for anything useful.
“The big man… What's his face… Fischer. He mentioned something about some journals, I know he’d been poking around up here on his last trip in.” Bastian called over his shoulder, eventually moving across the room to some open shelves. He could tell Vivienne was frothing to go through the desk herself and his presence at it was bothersome, which was amusing of course.
Above them, the fallen leaves pasted to the glass dome ceiling were pulled at by the wind outside, fluttering their edges and ripping a few free.
Victi Aurora Silverfur (played by Avitrathephoenix)
Topic Starter
Paranormal Investigator
November 23 2023
2:17pm
When 'Bastian beats her to the punch on examining the desk, she gives him a glare like a theater prop knife: Murderously lethal at a glance, but in reality performative and harmless. Instead, she moves over to the nearest shelves that don't seem associated with the desk's space and starts looking for even imperfect patterns. Alphabetization by title or author, general similar subjects of the volumes, and even peeking inside for dates of publication if nothing else matches. Finding things in the library later would all be dependent on how, or if, the books are organized in a useful way.
"Good sign," she calls back to the contractor, "Hopefully means there's something informative here somewhere. Also, any idea who would have the keys to those cabinet drawers or where they'd be? Been years since I practiced cheating locks, and I don't wanna break anything by trying."
Once she gets the chance, though, she zips back over to the desk and starts going over it in a way that would suggest she was looking for alone time with it. Fingers trace over intricate carvings, patter nails across the surfaces, brush the inside of drawers. She brings her head close, tilted, sometimes pressed against it as her hands dance across it.
What's actually going on is that she's looking for hidden compartments. False bottoms of drawers, hidden catches, drawers and slide-out surfaces disguised as decorative or structural parts, reliefs or decorations which can be pressed, slid, or twisted. She's clearly run into desks full of secrets before and is hoping this is another one that will open up and reveal something of interest... or at least be polite enough to prove her right about potential desk-treasures. After all, why get a desk this big without at least a couple hidden compartments, right?
"Good sign," she calls back to the contractor, "Hopefully means there's something informative here somewhere. Also, any idea who would have the keys to those cabinet drawers or where they'd be? Been years since I practiced cheating locks, and I don't wanna break anything by trying."
Once she gets the chance, though, she zips back over to the desk and starts going over it in a way that would suggest she was looking for alone time with it. Fingers trace over intricate carvings, patter nails across the surfaces, brush the inside of drawers. She brings her head close, tilted, sometimes pressed against it as her hands dance across it.
What's actually going on is that she's looking for hidden compartments. False bottoms of drawers, hidden catches, drawers and slide-out surfaces disguised as decorative or structural parts, reliefs or decorations which can be pressed, slid, or twisted. She's clearly run into desks full of secrets before and is hoping this is another one that will open up and reveal something of interest... or at least be polite enough to prove her right about potential desk-treasures. After all, why get a desk this big without at least a couple hidden compartments, right?
The piece was art disguised as furniture. Painstakingly carved intricate details reflecting the Art Nouveau style of the era that the piece was birthed in. Even the belly of the desk and its four sturdy legs were textured with smooth, organic forms that bled seamlessly into the next like flowing waves of deep damber wood.
On that belly of the desk, its flat bottom was signed with an artist's signature, the year 1903 and a dedication to Montgomery.
It felt the longer the viewing, the more details were found. The widest, shallowest drawer in the center of the desk’s mass was locked, with a dainty golden keyhole accessorizing the middle of the drawer like a teasing wink. Two narrower, deeper drawers were stacked vertical atop each other on both sides of the desk - these were unlocked and accessible.
The top drawer on the left hand side contained a leather bound binder, whose pages appeared to be an index of the library below. Each log line was hand written in neat, scrawling font, each having the title of the book, the genre and its section of shelving. The dates of these logs began on March 2nd, 1889 and ended at August 25th, 1922. It was a thick binder, packed with pages of logs, the pages themselves thin and frail with age. Some felt like mere dust between the fingers, edges of the pages of some papers crumbling away at physical contact.
The second drawer down on the left contained magnifying glasses, a very old glasses case with thin, foggy spectacles within, some blank notebooks, a few loose pictures of some friendly looking gathering in the library that appeared to be from the 1920s, and some candle sticks. There were also some containers of melting wax for seals and containers of ink for pens or quills.
The top drawer on the right hand side contained a stack of books. A few random guide titles such as ’Northeastern Gardening’, ’Native Plants of North America’, ’Beginners Guide to Water Wells’ and ’Cobblestone Carpentry: Laying and Maintenance’, along with a few others. Beneath those was a black, worn photo album. Instead of pictures, there were newspaper articles, cut neatly to fit within the photo slots. The first was dated March 27th, 1931, printed from a publisher that was long dismantled and only now existed within historic texts - “HOUSE OF HORRORS UNEARTHED” the title splashed in fading font, the body of the article going on to detail the findings of the old Montgomery Manor, which included 27 bodies of individuals described as having been missing for years, and as gone “feral”. The last ominous line of the article stating that the manor’s owner was MIA, not to be found among the dead nor found alive. Flipping through the rest of the album, one would find the printed collection of dramatic happenings stemming from the house, ranging from small dockets mentioning burglaries gone sour to the murder of entire families. The last entry was printed from an online news blog, dated 2013.
That album put a bad taste in Sebastian’s mouth, a deep frown sitting on his face. “Which weirdo sat down and put together a sick scrapbook of this shit?” Bastian mumbled, not really expecting any reply. He half wondered if it had been Mr. Fischer himself…
The last and bottom drawer on the right hand side had a metal box, a folded piece of yellow-stained paper and a letter opener inside. The letter opener was dull, and unbeknownst to anyone, would’ve tested positive for traces of human blood. The folded piece of paper cradled a tiny, delicate key in its crease. The metal box had a lock on the front, but the lock had been picked and brutalized, leaving it busted and nonfunctioning. From inside that metal box, a spicy musk leaked and when opened, the viewer was met with neatly folded letters. They were love letters, detailing desires and obsessions and pleadings. Underneath those letters, an ornate tin container laid beside a very old, odd looking smoking pipe.
The smell of the opium hit Bastian like a right hook to the jaw, and his mouth watered immediately. He stumbled back, then quickly made up the distance again, hanging over Vivienne’s shoulder like she was the guard rail between the semi truck and the canyon edge. Looking at the tin, knowing what was inside, made Bastian feel like he was dreaming. It was so close, he could snatch it right now. Then, he’d be holding it, holding that black magic in his own palm. He was so close…
On that belly of the desk, its flat bottom was signed with an artist's signature, the year 1903 and a dedication to Montgomery.
It felt the longer the viewing, the more details were found. The widest, shallowest drawer in the center of the desk’s mass was locked, with a dainty golden keyhole accessorizing the middle of the drawer like a teasing wink. Two narrower, deeper drawers were stacked vertical atop each other on both sides of the desk - these were unlocked and accessible.
The top drawer on the left hand side contained a leather bound binder, whose pages appeared to be an index of the library below. Each log line was hand written in neat, scrawling font, each having the title of the book, the genre and its section of shelving. The dates of these logs began on March 2nd, 1889 and ended at August 25th, 1922. It was a thick binder, packed with pages of logs, the pages themselves thin and frail with age. Some felt like mere dust between the fingers, edges of the pages of some papers crumbling away at physical contact.
The second drawer down on the left contained magnifying glasses, a very old glasses case with thin, foggy spectacles within, some blank notebooks, a few loose pictures of some friendly looking gathering in the library that appeared to be from the 1920s, and some candle sticks. There were also some containers of melting wax for seals and containers of ink for pens or quills.
The top drawer on the right hand side contained a stack of books. A few random guide titles such as ’Northeastern Gardening’, ’Native Plants of North America’, ’Beginners Guide to Water Wells’ and ’Cobblestone Carpentry: Laying and Maintenance’, along with a few others. Beneath those was a black, worn photo album. Instead of pictures, there were newspaper articles, cut neatly to fit within the photo slots. The first was dated March 27th, 1931, printed from a publisher that was long dismantled and only now existed within historic texts - “HOUSE OF HORRORS UNEARTHED” the title splashed in fading font, the body of the article going on to detail the findings of the old Montgomery Manor, which included 27 bodies of individuals described as having been missing for years, and as gone “feral”. The last ominous line of the article stating that the manor’s owner was MIA, not to be found among the dead nor found alive. Flipping through the rest of the album, one would find the printed collection of dramatic happenings stemming from the house, ranging from small dockets mentioning burglaries gone sour to the murder of entire families. The last entry was printed from an online news blog, dated 2013.
That album put a bad taste in Sebastian’s mouth, a deep frown sitting on his face. “Which weirdo sat down and put together a sick scrapbook of this shit?” Bastian mumbled, not really expecting any reply. He half wondered if it had been Mr. Fischer himself…
The last and bottom drawer on the right hand side had a metal box, a folded piece of yellow-stained paper and a letter opener inside. The letter opener was dull, and unbeknownst to anyone, would’ve tested positive for traces of human blood. The folded piece of paper cradled a tiny, delicate key in its crease. The metal box had a lock on the front, but the lock had been picked and brutalized, leaving it busted and nonfunctioning. From inside that metal box, a spicy musk leaked and when opened, the viewer was met with neatly folded letters. They were love letters, detailing desires and obsessions and pleadings. Underneath those letters, an ornate tin container laid beside a very old, odd looking smoking pipe.
The smell of the opium hit Bastian like a right hook to the jaw, and his mouth watered immediately. He stumbled back, then quickly made up the distance again, hanging over Vivienne’s shoulder like she was the guard rail between the semi truck and the canyon edge. Looking at the tin, knowing what was inside, made Bastian feel like he was dreaming. It was so close, he could snatch it right now. Then, he’d be holding it, holding that black magic in his own palm. He was so close…
Victi Aurora Silverfur (played by Avitrathephoenix)
Topic Starter
Paranormal Investigator
December 2 2023
10:52am
While the desk itself had thoroughly enraptured the paranormal investigator, her focus switches swiftly the moment she recognizes the catalogue book for what it is. She practically jumps to her feet, eagerly withdrawing her camera and its odd little stand, setting it up on the desk and adjusting its height. Once she's satisfied, she excitedly says, "Once we've seen what else is in here I'll be busy taking pictures of the pages in this.... probably a couple hours to handle it properly, record as much info as possible and make sure I can find anything in here."
The second drawer's contents get a head tilt and a shrug, but she moves the pictures to the side. Always worth checking for odd background details. The optics and writing tools get a pass for the moment, left in their elegant, wooden home.
Drawer number three's contents have the head-tilt go in the other direction in a very critter-like display of curiosity. "Useful for running or restoring or building a place like this, I guess," she notes, gesturing at the books. Her brow furrows as the folder of article clippings gets pawed through, though. "In fairness, I have all of these saved and accessible, too, it's part of my legwork. To me the weirder thing is that it was probably meant to be hidden," she replies, standing up straighter and gesturing at the removed stack of books, "It's like if you see an adult manga volume on someone's bookshelf in their room. You'll raise an eyebrow, judge their taste, and move on. If you find it tucked away in a closet or hidden somewhere, then it says that they're ashamed of it for some reason, that they don't want people to know about it. You react differently. Same thing here, to me. Out in the open it's part of whoever's job. In here under a stack of books..."
The last drawer quickly distracts Vivienne, she grabs the key with a quiet but satisfied "aha!" and tests it on the middle lock of the desk. After fiddling with it for a bit, either to finish opening it or confirming that it doesn't work, she... gets the feeling that something is wrong. Looking back, her guide seems transfixed by the box and pipe she considered probably-meaningless curiosities. Her brow furrows again and her head tilts in confusion.
"You, uh... you okay there?" she asks. She's not really not picking up on the potential personal danger she's standing as a thin barrier against, but does feel like something is... weird. If he doesn't react after a few seconds, she grabs the letter opener and uses it to flick the broken-locked box closed. That stuff seemed like a different kind of distraction than her excitement about books and drawers.
The second drawer's contents get a head tilt and a shrug, but she moves the pictures to the side. Always worth checking for odd background details. The optics and writing tools get a pass for the moment, left in their elegant, wooden home.
Drawer number three's contents have the head-tilt go in the other direction in a very critter-like display of curiosity. "Useful for running or restoring or building a place like this, I guess," she notes, gesturing at the books. Her brow furrows as the folder of article clippings gets pawed through, though. "In fairness, I have all of these saved and accessible, too, it's part of my legwork. To me the weirder thing is that it was probably meant to be hidden," she replies, standing up straighter and gesturing at the removed stack of books, "It's like if you see an adult manga volume on someone's bookshelf in their room. You'll raise an eyebrow, judge their taste, and move on. If you find it tucked away in a closet or hidden somewhere, then it says that they're ashamed of it for some reason, that they don't want people to know about it. You react differently. Same thing here, to me. Out in the open it's part of whoever's job. In here under a stack of books..."
The last drawer quickly distracts Vivienne, she grabs the key with a quiet but satisfied "aha!" and tests it on the middle lock of the desk. After fiddling with it for a bit, either to finish opening it or confirming that it doesn't work, she... gets the feeling that something is wrong. Looking back, her guide seems transfixed by the box and pipe she considered probably-meaningless curiosities. Her brow furrows again and her head tilts in confusion.
"You, uh... you okay there?" she asks. She's not really not picking up on the potential personal danger she's standing as a thin barrier against, but does feel like something is... weird. If he doesn't react after a few seconds, she grabs the letter opener and uses it to flick the broken-locked box closed. That stuff seemed like a different kind of distraction than her excitement about books and drawers.
The smell enveloped his mental plain, he could taste the sourness in his mouth. He could feel his limbs growing heavy, his world going fuzzy and warm.
Suddenly he could feel dingy, threadbare couch cushions; could hear incoherent yelling from somewhere; could see streetlights spinning between him and the vast night sky above. He sat down hard in a short stool beside a shelf, burying his face in his hands. His long legs looked a bit funny scrunched up on the short stool - a little frog like.
Vivienne’s words bled through the ringing in his ears after a moment's delay. “No, yeah, I’m good,” he decided, words muffled through his fingers. The worlds shifted again, street lights and lonely nights ebbing into the now. Him, in the library. Laughter, pleasant conversation, tobacco smoke and the audible turning of pages filtered into his sense recognition. Just passing time, waiting for the event to begin, he thought, then stopped to wonder at the thought a half moment later.
Who? The what?
He blinked, dropping his hands and looking at Vivienne. A light frown creased his heavy brows. The library was quiet, it was only the two of them beneath the beautiful domed ceiling.
“Well?” He demanded, nodding his chin at the last drawer. “Does it open, or what?” He pointedly kept his vision fixed away from the metal box.
The tiny key did indeed access the middle drawer. It was shallow and held the chain of original deeds for the house, starting with the bank that purchased it 1965. Knowing the outcome of each ownership, it was like looking at tickets of grave misfortune. Each Grantee signature, unaware they were signing over their soul.
The one that lay atop the pile was the conveyance to Fischer Corp., Daniel Fischer’s neatly scrawled signature splayed at the bottom of the page.
Upon close examination, an outline of a 4”x4” square could be seen in the upper left corner. This could be removed with careful fingers, it was a lid of sorts. Inside, a thickly folded paper. It was a large paper, old and frail. Its fold lines were worn thin, worn through in some places. In all its glory, it appeared to be a hand-drawn map of the property. The massive blot in the middle being the house, with meticulously drawn, tiny trees filling the page around it. Ponds were illustrated, streams winding through the hypnotizing trees, large bouldery areas, meadows, strange symbols or icons that had once meant something to someone. The entire page was derangedly filled to the edges with itty bitty drawings. In what would be the Northwest direction from the house on this illustrated map, a dozen Xs were scratched among the trees.
Suddenly he could feel dingy, threadbare couch cushions; could hear incoherent yelling from somewhere; could see streetlights spinning between him and the vast night sky above. He sat down hard in a short stool beside a shelf, burying his face in his hands. His long legs looked a bit funny scrunched up on the short stool - a little frog like.
Vivienne’s words bled through the ringing in his ears after a moment's delay. “No, yeah, I’m good,” he decided, words muffled through his fingers. The worlds shifted again, street lights and lonely nights ebbing into the now. Him, in the library. Laughter, pleasant conversation, tobacco smoke and the audible turning of pages filtered into his sense recognition. Just passing time, waiting for the event to begin, he thought, then stopped to wonder at the thought a half moment later.
Who? The what?
He blinked, dropping his hands and looking at Vivienne. A light frown creased his heavy brows. The library was quiet, it was only the two of them beneath the beautiful domed ceiling.
“Well?” He demanded, nodding his chin at the last drawer. “Does it open, or what?” He pointedly kept his vision fixed away from the metal box.
The tiny key did indeed access the middle drawer. It was shallow and held the chain of original deeds for the house, starting with the bank that purchased it 1965. Knowing the outcome of each ownership, it was like looking at tickets of grave misfortune. Each Grantee signature, unaware they were signing over their soul.
The one that lay atop the pile was the conveyance to Fischer Corp., Daniel Fischer’s neatly scrawled signature splayed at the bottom of the page.
Upon close examination, an outline of a 4”x4” square could be seen in the upper left corner. This could be removed with careful fingers, it was a lid of sorts. Inside, a thickly folded paper. It was a large paper, old and frail. Its fold lines were worn thin, worn through in some places. In all its glory, it appeared to be a hand-drawn map of the property. The massive blot in the middle being the house, with meticulously drawn, tiny trees filling the page around it. Ponds were illustrated, streams winding through the hypnotizing trees, large bouldery areas, meadows, strange symbols or icons that had once meant something to someone. The entire page was derangedly filled to the edges with itty bitty drawings. In what would be the Northwest direction from the house on this illustrated map, a dozen Xs were scratched among the trees.
Victi Aurora Silverfur (played by Avitrathephoenix)
Topic Starter
Paranormal Investigator
December 13 2023
2:23pm
"Weird definition of good, but whatever," Vivienne mutters as she tugs the center drawer open, "What was that stuff in the box, by th--"
Her words cut off, and 'Bastian's odd reaction to the previous finds are instantly forgotten, as she sees the papers inside, and her eyes widen. "Hah, uh, okay, question: Why in the absolute Hell is this stuff not in a secure corporate vault somewhere rather than somewhere that two people with a few minutes and unchecked curiosity can find it?" she asks. Her voice has pitched up as if there were a lit pipe bomb in there rather than a stack of papers. She stays quiet for several moments, one could practically hear the wheels whirling, before slowly shoving all the papers to one side of the drawer and flatly saying, "We.... should probably tell Carrie-Mae before this turns into an actual problem we could get in trouble for, and not the fun, adventure filled kind of trouble and more of the getting hit with a lawsuit kind of trouble. You look like you could use some air anyway and I need to get images of pages that we've already found, so could you go find her and bring her back here while I keep my eye on all of this?"
A glance lets the map's hidey-hole catch her eye, but she doesn't act on it for now, not with this adrenaline spike. Ghosts and gas leaks might not phase her, those are just part of the job, but this? This is terrifying.
Her words cut off, and 'Bastian's odd reaction to the previous finds are instantly forgotten, as she sees the papers inside, and her eyes widen. "Hah, uh, okay, question: Why in the absolute Hell is this stuff not in a secure corporate vault somewhere rather than somewhere that two people with a few minutes and unchecked curiosity can find it?" she asks. Her voice has pitched up as if there were a lit pipe bomb in there rather than a stack of papers. She stays quiet for several moments, one could practically hear the wheels whirling, before slowly shoving all the papers to one side of the drawer and flatly saying, "We.... should probably tell Carrie-Mae before this turns into an actual problem we could get in trouble for, and not the fun, adventure filled kind of trouble and more of the getting hit with a lawsuit kind of trouble. You look like you could use some air anyway and I need to get images of pages that we've already found, so could you go find her and bring her back here while I keep my eye on all of this?"
A glance lets the map's hidey-hole catch her eye, but she doesn't act on it for now, not with this adrenaline spike. Ghosts and gas leaks might not phase her, those are just part of the job, but this? This is terrifying.
Bastian groaned, tipping his head back and dragging his hands down his face as he did so.
Truly, it was disinterest and laziness that fueled his response.
“They’re papers, batty. They probably aren’t going to crawl away as soon as we turn our backs, right? You have the key, can’t you lock the drawer and pocket that bastard?” The man whined, before standing from the stool. “I don’t want to go back out there,” he admitted, unashamedly. “The pregnancy pact freaks me out.”
He meandered over to a shelf, pretended to look at the titles.
“Why don’t we take the grand tour on the way to the basement, and you can get hot ‘n bothered over papers in your own time.” He countered, turning back to her. “Just think, I bet there’s so much more weird shit to get excited about.”
While he spoke, he’d gravitated towards the spiral stairs. Deep down, he didn’t know if he was itching to get back to his lonely, manual labor, or desperate to get further away from that box in the desk drawer.
Truly, it was disinterest and laziness that fueled his response.
“They’re papers, batty. They probably aren’t going to crawl away as soon as we turn our backs, right? You have the key, can’t you lock the drawer and pocket that bastard?” The man whined, before standing from the stool. “I don’t want to go back out there,” he admitted, unashamedly. “The pregnancy pact freaks me out.”
He meandered over to a shelf, pretended to look at the titles.
“Why don’t we take the grand tour on the way to the basement, and you can get hot ‘n bothered over papers in your own time.” He countered, turning back to her. “Just think, I bet there’s so much more weird shit to get excited about.”
While he spoke, he’d gravitated towards the spiral stairs. Deep down, he didn’t know if he was itching to get back to his lonely, manual labor, or desperate to get further away from that box in the desk drawer.
Victi Aurora Silverfur (played by Avitrathephoenix)
Topic Starter
Paranormal Investigator
December 17 2023
5:21am
"They're also the house, more or less, legally speaking, but fine," she shoots back with matching exasperation, "I think there's a compartment here, but it looks like it won't be big enough? Wish it were, the extra layer of concealment would be nice." After briefly scrabbling with fingers at the faintly seamed square, she pulls it open. Extracting the map and setting it aside, she peers at the compartment before confirming, "Yeah, not folding the title deed and documentation of transference, thanks, so too small. Bleh. Okay, whatever."
She closes the compartment, closes and re-locks the Drawer of Excessively Valuable Documents, then tucks the key into a small zip-up pocket in the front of the side of her short, sporty top. Really it's more meant to expose highly breathable mesh to help deal with sweat, but it's also a secure pocket which is awfully hard to sneak into without being noticed.
The map gets carefully unfolded, may as well check it before getting moving, and she glares at it intently. Whoever made this thing had way too much time on their hands and a level of obsessiveness which was... certainly interesting. She detaches her camera from its stand, leaving the stand on the desk but taking the camera in case it ends up being needed, and takes a quick picture of the map, just to keep a general location of those locations.
"Okay, fine, we go to the basement and deal with the other thing later. May as well make sure there's no leeching toxicity or radioactivity, speaking of the current guests," she mutters. While she's uncomfortable with thoughts around child bearing and doesn't really like children, they're too unpredictable, loud, and impulsive in her opinion, she also doesn't want them harmed prenatally or anything.
Picking up the pace on the way to the spiral stairs she quips, "And it's not the weird shit that's exciting, it's the information that gives me potential leads on actual causes of allegedly supernatural phenomena. Most of the weird stuff is for a psychologist to look at," then bounds down the steps toward the library's main level.
She closes the compartment, closes and re-locks the Drawer of Excessively Valuable Documents, then tucks the key into a small zip-up pocket in the front of the side of her short, sporty top. Really it's more meant to expose highly breathable mesh to help deal with sweat, but it's also a secure pocket which is awfully hard to sneak into without being noticed.
The map gets carefully unfolded, may as well check it before getting moving, and she glares at it intently. Whoever made this thing had way too much time on their hands and a level of obsessiveness which was... certainly interesting. She detaches her camera from its stand, leaving the stand on the desk but taking the camera in case it ends up being needed, and takes a quick picture of the map, just to keep a general location of those locations.
"Okay, fine, we go to the basement and deal with the other thing later. May as well make sure there's no leeching toxicity or radioactivity, speaking of the current guests," she mutters. While she's uncomfortable with thoughts around child bearing and doesn't really like children, they're too unpredictable, loud, and impulsive in her opinion, she also doesn't want them harmed prenatally or anything.
Picking up the pace on the way to the spiral stairs she quips, "And it's not the weird shit that's exciting, it's the information that gives me potential leads on actual causes of allegedly supernatural phenomena. Most of the weird stuff is for a psychologist to look at," then bounds down the steps toward the library's main level.
Sebastian had started down the stairs at the first hints of agreement… Possibly before, possibly regardless if there’d been any at all. He habitually pulled his pack of smokes from his pocket and shook his lighter out onto his palm, as he strode across the library’s main level.
“Well maybe there’ll be a fun gas leak to go check out,” he goaded, half-heartedly. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. There being toxic fumes in the air, soaked into this stuffy furniture, would make sense to him.
Once again in the halls, Bastian lit up a cigarette. He knew he’d get scolded if caught, but he didn’t think the swirls of smoke would do much further damage to this place in the long run. He leisurely stood and took a drag, steadying and solidifying himself again.
Those in the library watched the pair leave, talking amongst themselves in the shadows while they awaited the party.
“So, the main entry where we came in is down that way,” Bastian gestured with his cigarette down a hall as they passed by it. “This way towards the kitchen, we’ll pass it to get to the basement.” He’d make quick comments occasionally as they passed certain rooms. Like, “that record player will play at random”, or “this room always smells like swampy ass, I think there’s something dead in the walls”.
All the way, they were being followed.
They did indeed pass a wide corridor that held the gaping mouths to the kitchen and dining hall, but Sebastian didn’t stop to tour. Instead, he kept on trucking until they reached a set of bifold, double doors. They were in need of replacing, the glass panes ancient and fogged beyond visibility, one or two with minor cracks webbing them. Sebastian opened them, revealing the tiled pool room beyond.
The water had been drained and the pool tub itself scrubbed vigorously, it now being in the process of refilling with fresh salt water. It lapped softly at the sides, creating a rhythmic echo in the room.
One might stop to wonder, how this layout felt impossibly different from the outside to the inside. Yet, it must be right, right?
“The stairs to the basement are over here,” Bastian called, heading towards the far end of the room and producing a key ring. “This door always locks, so they try to keep it propped open with this,” he explained, opening the door and toeing a cinder block that sat just inside. He squinted, but did not voice his concerns about it not already being propped open. He thought the crews were working today, but maybe he was wrong.
The door led to a short landing, then descended into steep stairs. Sebastian motioned for her to enter.
(Continued here)
“Well maybe there’ll be a fun gas leak to go check out,” he goaded, half-heartedly. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. There being toxic fumes in the air, soaked into this stuffy furniture, would make sense to him.
Once again in the halls, Bastian lit up a cigarette. He knew he’d get scolded if caught, but he didn’t think the swirls of smoke would do much further damage to this place in the long run. He leisurely stood and took a drag, steadying and solidifying himself again.
Those in the library watched the pair leave, talking amongst themselves in the shadows while they awaited the party.
“So, the main entry where we came in is down that way,” Bastian gestured with his cigarette down a hall as they passed by it. “This way towards the kitchen, we’ll pass it to get to the basement.” He’d make quick comments occasionally as they passed certain rooms. Like, “that record player will play at random”, or “this room always smells like swampy ass, I think there’s something dead in the walls”.
All the way, they were being followed.
They did indeed pass a wide corridor that held the gaping mouths to the kitchen and dining hall, but Sebastian didn’t stop to tour. Instead, he kept on trucking until they reached a set of bifold, double doors. They were in need of replacing, the glass panes ancient and fogged beyond visibility, one or two with minor cracks webbing them. Sebastian opened them, revealing the tiled pool room beyond.
The water had been drained and the pool tub itself scrubbed vigorously, it now being in the process of refilling with fresh salt water. It lapped softly at the sides, creating a rhythmic echo in the room.
One might stop to wonder, how this layout felt impossibly different from the outside to the inside. Yet, it must be right, right?
“The stairs to the basement are over here,” Bastian called, heading towards the far end of the room and producing a key ring. “This door always locks, so they try to keep it propped open with this,” he explained, opening the door and toeing a cinder block that sat just inside. He squinted, but did not voice his concerns about it not already being propped open. He thought the crews were working today, but maybe he was wrong.
The door led to a short landing, then descended into steep stairs. Sebastian motioned for her to enter.
(Continued here)
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