Realistic or Modern Surreal Estate || Main Thread

[Dover]

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location

829 Adams Drive, basement.

role

crew.

CW

n/a.

mentions

elytra idalie Sear Ha_lfLife BELIAL.

Arnetta 'Netta' Webber.

Oh, god, he was following her.

She tensed at first, hiding a freshly torn piece of wallpaper behind her back like a child caught doing something they shouldn't. The chiding Netta expected from tearing up the walls never came, however. No, instead Vaughn seemed just as focused on the same Right Hand symbol that she and Valerie were.

And hell, she was not about to get in his way. The man was like a baby elephant. Storming this way and that. Putting his briefcase through the wall and then his leg shortly following that. Who needed a sledgehammer when you had a walking, talking version just on hand?

Coughing as the dust settled, Netta kept clear, only once glancing at Valerie to see if she seemed put off by her coworker putting himself through a wall or if this was business as usual.

"No need to find those floor plans so we can figure out where the alcove is then," Netta joked. If she thought it would go over well, she'd suggest that she could grab Vaughn by the head and Valerie could grab him by the legs, and they would take the whole wall down. But before she could so much as twitch a smile at her own joke, Vaughn was back from his wall adventure, book in hand and offering them.

Ugn. More Right Hand nonsense. Netta took the journal. "Could you hold that light for me, Valerie?"

Quickly, she read the contents aloud to her coworkers and scoffed as she read the final passage. "I don't know what trnleko heoalem espcihe means, but these numbers on the bottom are either a whole bunch of locker combinations or a book cipher. You know, like on National Treasure. Kinda useless without the book though. It's usually like the dictionary or a bible or something."

Or, if it was National Treasure, the Declaration of Independence, but Netta didn't think they were going to dig that up from a hole in the wall any time soon.

"Really, the most miraculous thing here is that The Right Hand was just as pretentious in the early to mid 1900s as they are now," Netta said and offered the journal to Valerie.

 

[BELIAL.]

valerie kallagher.

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  mm... work casual
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  829 adams drive (basement)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  idalie Dover
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

She’d been far too entranced to hear Arnetta behind her, so the call from the stairs was welcome. Val still jumped a bit, but chalked it up to residual unease from the Echoes. Giving Arnetta a slight nod over her shoulder, she listened eagerly; unable, either, to help the quiet exhale of a laugh from her nose at ‘Mr. Valentine’.

Valerie opened her mouth to respond, but Netta seemed interested in the wall as much as her. Her observation of the owner seemed interesting enough to Val, though she wasn’t sure what the Right Hand was, even though it seemed vague enough in her memories to wonder if they’d shown up before in any work related investigations. She stared at Netta with curious, wide eyes at the follow-up, too, unable to find whatever words were needed to reply.

The silence seemed to warrant a further approach, not that Val could complain, and she went to peel at the wallpaper as well.

“Not our usual, I promise,”

Val added on, throwing a shoulder up to shrug and a light smile on her face.

“But if this Right Hand and their ‘grubby hands’ have anything to do with this house, or what those Echoes were doing-- if you even saw them-- I’m thinking it's to do with this wall here.”

She thought about having a proper conversation with Arnetta, considering their level of interaction had been pretty minor in the few weeks that the new hire had even been around, but that thought was also halted, in this case due to the familiar heavy feet heading down the stairs. Figuring it better to ignore Vaughn a bit more to see if it would really tick him off now, feeling a little vindicated that she’d found something worth investigating instead of showing up late with little to show for it, she continued to sort of press and poke at the wall and the fully exposed symbol.

Thankful for the low light, Val withheld the best she could a great eye roll at Vaughn’s words.

“Yes, thank you. Where else did you think I was?”

It was a retort to his bad joke, and it was the most she’d entertain it.

He got closer, Val taking the initiative to take an incredible step back from the proximity, and she watched with her arms already folded. To the ground he went, but she didn’t expect a mouse hole. Basements weren’t often levelled with wood, were they? A hole maybe, but to what? The ground? A stone slab between the walls and the earth?

The hollow rap of his knuckle on the drywall was enough to make her eyes widen once more, and when Vaughn shared the glance at Val, she returned it to Netta.

Then he went and punched into the wall, making Val at least outwardly guffaw, though her reaction was otherwise as muted as she could muster. It was unexpected that he’d do something like this, and yet, entirely expected. Her look to Netta was a pathetic attempt at expressing pity.

“This… also isn’t our usual. I can’t promise any reason for whatever he does, though.”

What she didn’t expect, however, was the retrieval of a leather bound journal. At his request she shined her flashlight into the nice sized hole he’d made, a chill descending down her spine at the slight breeze that she did in fact feel. It was a vacuous hallway, dirty and dusted. At the very edge of her phone’s light, she saw three pathways divert into further darkness. Hell no, she thought to herself with a grimace, returning with the light that Netta requested.

Shoulder to shoulder with the woman, Val shined the light and couldn’t help but mouth the words under her breath as well. Her gaze occasionally slipped up to Vaughn, more of a knowing and levelled stare that said something along the lines of ‘Well, shit.’

“If the bottom half is some sort of cipher or code, that would mean that gibberish is something too, right?”

She offered her postulation to the group.

“You seem to know a bit about this group. They would do something like this? I don’t… I don’t know if I’ve encountered them. Have we, Vaughn?”

She looked up to him before looking back down to the journal and flipping back to the last page. Val clutched the phone in three fingers, using her free hand to sort of limply skim the lines. It didn’t make sense when read straight across. But what about the other directions?

“The letters… They’re sort of in diagonal lines.”

She ran her eyes across their length a few times over, whispering the letters out loud as she let her eyes wander in various directions. Up and down? No. Every other line? No.

The stuck out like a sore thumb to Val, and she went with it.

“The… Res… There-s…No…Plac…Place…Lie-Like…Home?”

She took a second, tasting the words on her tongue.

“There’s no place like home…? That’s… That’s the Wizard of Oz. That’s what Dorothy says! Does that have to do with this, you think? This house? Or could it be the journal… What’s linking it together?”

ghosts again

depeche mode

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[idalie]

VAUGHN VALENTINE ⁠— real estate & hunter
tags: group one / BELIAL. Dover ; location: 829 adams drive basement ; interactions: Arnetta & Valerie

“Well, sweetcheeks, I’ve been told I got an instinct for renovation,” Vaughn remarked in lieu of Arnetta’s joke, leaning partially against the opening he’d crashed through with a smarmy grin and shoulders all dusted white. A short flicker of greater amusement was had where Valerie half-explained his reasonings away, “Oh listen to her, Netta, actin’ like she ain’t knocked down a secret wall before without a floor plan. Me? My heart wants what it wants⁠ when it comes to sleuthin⁠’—museums get real antsy.” Nevertheless with the added light, Valentine’s head turned to see the passage that extended further beneath the house and possibly beyond.

If it wasn’t for the curiosity of what the journal held, Arnetta relaying its contents whilst a sense of dread formed greater weight in the bottom of his breathless chest, Vaughn would’ve confessed to have leapt into the bottleneck of the warren.

Thirteen souls melded into one. Unlucky number, unlucky souls, and a damned unlucky house. Vaughn’s inherent bravado felt as if it’d been set on edge, especially to have his own observations confirmed. Wherein the girls were talking amongst themselves solving the coded footnote, the Realtor felt his mouth grow dry. Turning from the gentle light of Valerie’s phone that spilled into the alcove, illumination registering the aged wallpaper and bare floor that’d been boarded up with the room, Valentine stood upon the precipice of the tunnel.

Breaking away into three paths, he placed one palm against the cold, rough interior, straining his eyes. “The Right Hand? I think we’d know if we had. I know as much as you do, buncha loons thinkin’ they’re God’s gift to mankind.” Vaughn twisted to sight them both, putting his attention back to Arnetta and Valerie’s silhouettes, “What worries me more is that there journal mentioned these menders have a violently inclined supervisor, and while we know where the menders are⁠—or rather, have been⁠—I know my ears didn’t betray me to hear it’s down here when there's a hole in the damn wall, courtesy of myself.”

He chewed on his inner cheek, draft cold enough on the nape of the hunter’s neck to make his hair stand on end with a goosebump-driven shiver.

NoWhere. No place like home. Mamu. Oz. The Tunnels. Menders. The Right Hand. The Supervisor. Lotta stupid words to say someone had been meddling in things they shouldn't have. Leave it up to psychics to turn haunted houses into circuses.

“Valerie, real quick, so what’s a sigil look like if you … I dunno, wanna keep some creature in the fuckin’ basement of a pensioner’s house?” The laugh that escaped him proved a bad attempt at hiding his jitters, “Because these things don’t vanish into thin air, and last I heard late Mrs Grey weren’t found torn three ways to Sunday.”

coded by archangel_

 

[elytra]

guy van every.

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  gritting his teeth and trying to smile through the pain
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  casual guy ready to take on the world (and ghosts)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  the basement of 289 Fairway Drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  tickles, mimi ( mourning star )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The rope was smart. Guy didn't carry stuff like that around with him, more partial to pads of paper and sketching supplies than spelunking gear. Mimi did the job of clipping it for him, but all the same, he ended up unclipping it and re-clipping it.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Mimi. In fact, it was the contrary; he trusted her far more than others in the company. When it came to matters of dangerous spirits and entities, she was top of his list to have around. Simple as that. She was smart, she was capable, she knew how to get a job done.

He was just, for lack of a better word, highly neurotic and unable to tone it down.

He felt the rope go upwards as Mimi vaulted into the next room and positioned Tickles to stare at what was no doubt going to be an embarrassing experience to him. The plush's soulless little eyes bore into him as he stood in the door way. Guy rolled his eyes back.

"And I have an apparently-haunted art piece to get rid of."

He agreed with Mimi, sighing

"Only fitting it's fucked, though. No one in their right mind would put that thing there if it wasn't."

Stop putting off the inevitable and jump.

Tickles speaking in both their minds rather than just Guy's was going to get annoying. That was a sure thing. Regardless, Guy grabbed the top of the frame, preparing to go through. He took a deep breath. Then, he stepped forwards.

Theoretically, he knew what would happen. Gravity would swing him down, the force of which would send him hitting the wall. In his mind, he was ready for that. Apparently, though, thinking you were ready was not the same as being ready.

His body hit the wall, the force of which didn't hurt, but did cause him to jolt. From the surprise, his fingers slipped off the frame. He ended up tumbling to the ground, barely managing to avoid slamming his face into the multi-shade blue-green saxony carpet that was now beneath him.

As he pushed himself up, his hands left deep imprints in the carpet and he could hear the hysterical laugher of Tickles. He grimaced as he got to his feet. He would be the bigger person. He would not, in fact, punt a octopus stuffed animal across the room. He was better than that. Instead, he scooped Tickles up, holding the totem like a purse dog.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in what it had in it. An amazingly rectangular wood table with straight legs that jutted out to the sides sat between equally rectangular bright-orange couches, which was quite the contrast to the striped green wallpaper. On the table were a couple of different magazines, ranging from Life to Vogue to HGTV; there was also a small bowl of change labelled 'alms for the poor' in scribbly handwriting, with a small smiley underneath. The wall had a large bookcase, stretching its entirety, ceiling to floor. It was a pastel green color, cabinets lining the bottom, a old-school TV seeming to be built into it. A ways to the side was a lounge chair, an equally bright orange to the couches, and the side table to the side of it had a gaudy red mushroom lamp.

He narrowed his eyes at the lamp. Everything else in the room, furniture and decor wise; bright colors were king in the 50s, and the modern, sleek rectangular furniture fit well. Even the carpet with it's intertwined tufts of green and blue fiber. A mushroom lamp, though? That was distinctly 70s.

Whoever designed this room was an idiot.

They may had disagreed on some things, but Tickles was still very much a product of Guy's mind. Thus, they tended to share similar opinions on this like this. Whoever had designed the room was a moron. If you were going to style something after an era, at least make it accurate.

And add doors, of which there were none.

Guy only noticed such after he was done glowering at the lamp. There were spaces for doors, across from where they had come in, in the same position as the entrance had been. Yet, they couldn't even climb through them, because all they were were frames attached to a wall. It was as if they'd been filled in. Even the one they entered through now looked like that, as if it had changed as soon as they glanced away.

With little else to do, Guy wandered over to the bookcase to have a look at what was on the shelf. Lots of classics, from what he could see. 1984 sat alongside Catcher in the Rye, followed by I Capture the Castle, Go Tell It on the Mountain, and Lolita. On the shelf below were The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Cheaper by the Dozen, Invisible Man, Hatchet, The Crucible, and An Inspector Calls.

"An eclectic collection."

He commented, taking one out to turn it over in his hands, before putting it back on the shelf. He looked back at Mimi, lips pressed into a thin line.

"No one mentioned anything about being trapped in the house, only that it changed. If I had to guess, there's a way out of this room, even if we don't see it."

Or we're the first and are trapped here forever. Stuck eternally in this brightly-colored hell.

"I can't say it's how I would've designed it, certainly."

Guy said, looking down at the carpet, which showed the imprints of his feet from where he had been to where he'd walked.

"A little less bright. Nix the wallpaper as well, maybe take orange out of the color scheme. I do like the full-length bookcase, though, that's enjoyable."

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

devin.

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  a very important coat
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  289 Fairway Drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  aj/@TrashRabbit
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

"No shit, Sherlock,"

Devin said. He reached into the pockets of his coat and pulled out an assortment of items, which he set on the kitchen table as he hunted for the one he wanted: Eye glass microfiber cloth. Chapstick (pomegranate). Mini first-aid kit in a tin. Switchblade style comb (tortoiseshell plastic). 3D printed Bulbasaur that AJ had given him two weeks ago (unpainted). Mini Altoid tin full of Ibuprofen. Mini Altoid tin travel altar to Joan of Arc (mildly blasphemous). Tube of Bag Balm. A single stub of chalk (white). Three loose human teeth (suspect). Swiss Army Knife. Hair tie. Slightly squished package of birthday candles (one pink, one purple, three white with pink and purple spots). Sharpie pen (black). Disposable lighter (white). Sharpie marker (also black.) And then, finally, a spool of red thread.

"Aha!"

Devin held it up.

"Now we're ready to look for Minotaurs."

He set it on the table and returned the rest of his things back into his pockets.

He disagreed with the Storm Breakers at several points, but they were right about one thing: belief was power. Devin just didn't think they saw the bigger picture. A single belief was nothing. A story? A good story could build religions and start wars. And the house at 289 Fairway Drive was certainly caught in one. A history of gruesome murders. A floor plan that never stood still. And here was his attempt to change the shape of it, like Ariadne, with a single spool of thread.

Devin had no idea if it would actually work, but that was entirely beside the point. It was the trying that mattered.

He unspooled a length of thread and tied it around one of the legs of the kitchen table.

"Yell if you find anything weird, I'm gonna see what the first floor looks like."

Devin crossed the little hall from the kitchen to the room across from it. The room was a little old fashioned parlor, with all the furniture covered under pale, dusty sheets. The walls were painted a bland off-white, and there were slightly darker squares where paintings or photos might have hung. Devin sneezed and went through the other door , expecting to find himself in another room--a dining room or living room, maybe--and instead found himself back in the foyer, facing the front door, which made absolutely no sense, architecturally or geometrically. He frowned and looked back into the door he'd just come out of, and back into the empty parlor, his red thread snaked through it in a way that he knew would make his head hurt if he thought about it too much.

So it was like that, he thought. Devin walked down the hall in the other direction from the foyer and went through a different door. This one was the dinning room, with a big old fashioned hutch full of china and a big table and matching chairs, all covered in a thick layer of dust. The other doorway should have lead back into the kitchen, but instead it deposited him right back into the foyer.

"Hey AJ?"

He walked pulled his pocket knife out to slice through the thread, and then went back into the kitchen to untie the end and coil the unhelpful length back up. He waited for AJ's "Yeah man?" before finishing his thought.

"Shit's haunted."

somnus (thief mix)

maggie stiefvater

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[elytra]

lucas grey (npc).

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  turtleneck & class
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  adams drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  harlow ( Sear ), charlie ( Ha_lfLife )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The exit of most people from the first floor lobby meant that eventually, Lucas left as well. He looked to the last remaining member of the group, Harlow, with a thin-lipped look.

"I wasn't aware that you all wandered so much."

Lucas' tone was dry, but he made no move to go remove the group from the basement, even when a loud banging noise came from the area that sounded vaguely like something- or someone -going through a wall.

He only moved when there was another noise from the sitting room, this time the piano. His eyes shut in an expression that could only be described as exhausted frustration. Then, he opened them again, looking to Harlow.

"Let's take this elsewhere. Unless you want to follow the rest of them and hack apart my house looking for spirits."

Lucas said.

From there, he walked into the sitting room, finding Charlie looking though the things scattered around. He didn't offer up any commentary at first. He stood in the doorway, before walking over as she started to look through the photos.

Eventually, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging, he said

"Yea."

He leaned over her shoulder, looking at it as if he hadn't seen it before.

"Nana liked to save every picture she could. She had a conniption when her portrait of Pops went missing; that's when she noticed things being misplaced, I think."

It was possibly the first piece of commentary that had been said fondly.

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[BELIAL.]

valerie kallagher.

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  mm... work casual
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  829 adams drive (basement)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  idalie Dover
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Vaughn’s eager insistence to constantly point out the most horrifying things in lieu of at least pretending that they weren’t about to head face-first into danger would always perplex Valerie. Perhaps he was truly just accustomed to dealing with something immediately and then emotionally reeling from it later. Whether it be his stunning revelation that there was in fact some sort of ‘supervisor’ that the menders from the journal had, or whether or not the wall that he’d just cleaved into was meant to keep said supervisor locked away, she didn’t understand really why he’d laughed.

In contrast, she felt the hairs on her neck and arms stand, even beneath her clothes, when he said this. She turned slowly to face him, eyes wide and a tight smile on her face, trying not to lose her cool immediately. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions… Maybe it was all just the worst case scenario.

“I don’t know, Vaughn, but I figure that any sigil that’s on the outside of a tunnel that goes way back would, maybe, do the job,”

Val said through clenched teeth, placing a hand on her chest to exhale, or to force herself to.

“Okay. Okay. Potentially breaking the barrier keeping a violent creature held in… Okay, it’s not like we’ve made a bunch of racket and it would know that it could escape, right? If we… If we keep our voices low… And-And it’s not like we know there’s anything in there. There’s at least three paths in that tunnel down there,”

she said, swinging her light toward the hole for emphasis.

“It could be in any of them. If it’s even there. Which I am choosing not to believe for the moment so I don’t lose it.”

Val gave another deep exhale, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Potentially occupied tunnel. Mysterious journal. Code. Wizard of Oz reference. Would it be too much to go back up? See if Mr. Grey knows about any of this?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, musing on the journal in her hand.

“Unless there’s other stuff in the basement that could help us out. When I came down it’s because there were Echoes. These… men, early 20th century probably. Could be authors of the journal, I don’t know. They came down here, they came to this wall, and they deposited some sort of box right here and it disappeared. One of the men had… this thing on his hand. A flame design, I think. I was just lucky enough to see.”

She sort of gestured to where they’d been with the journal in her hand, then back to the wall.

“Then that symbol, The Right Hand you say? This house has to be one of those experimenting whatever in that journal. But this house… It doesn’t move, right?”

She wracked her brain, wondering if maybe one of the houses in the vicinity could have been the first one they wrote about, with the spirits.

“Either way. Two options. One-- we try to figure this out ourselves, or two, we see if Mr. Grey knew what sort of house his grandmother either bought, or grew up in. She couldn’t be involved. There’s no way any person from…”

She rifled through the journal for the years, quickly.

“1914, at least, would be alive now. Unless we are dealing with, of course, something ‘in the family’. Netta, you said he didn’t want to be associated with anything supernatural…”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, staring between the two.

ghosts again

depeche mode

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Sear]

harlow tulach.

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  armed and comfy
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  adams drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  lucas elytra , Charlie Ha_lfLife
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Harlow hadn’t expected to be left standing around in the lobby alone with Lucas, with the rest of the team slowly pulling off to clearly perform renovations if the noise was anything to go by. If there was any guess Harlow could make to what the noise was - they would assume it was the alcove mentioned previously in conversation. Discovered, possibly, and hopefully not a random wall destroyed in the name of interior design.

“Well we don’t make a habit of it, but it’s all part of the job.” They were bluffing straight through a smile, following after Lucas as they moved from the lobby into the sitting room.

On the couch, riffling through photographs and the household items was a team member that Harlow wasn’t actually familiar with. She had came with Valerie earlier, but that was as much as Harlow knew about her, making a mental note to themself to introduce themself after the shenanigans with the house were accomplished. If she was going to be sticking around, they might then be seeing each other more often.

Moving around Lucas, Harlow settled to look over Charlie’s other shoulder, letting out a hum of intrigue at the photos stained with age.

“It’s a cute photo. Are there others?” They didn’t lean over however to flick through the book, leaving that job to Charlie and instead addressing Lucas. “Did your grandmother share any stories with you from her childhood or about this house,” , they paused before continuing, “beyond things going missing obviously.”

tamer

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Dover]

---

location

829 Adams Drive, basement.

role

crew.

CW

n/a.

mentions

elytra idalie BELIAL.

Arnetta 'Netta' Webber.

Sweetcheeks? The hell kind of nickname was that? Mentally, Netta demoted Vaughn Valentine from Mr. Valentine to just Vaughn instead. She scrunched her nose at him. Maybe something worse latter.

What was the Right Hand? That was a big question that Netta was only partially equipped to answer. All her life he'd been kept on the outer edge of her family's involvement with them. Even more so when psychic abilities hadn't manifested in her youth like it had with both her older brother and sister and permanently marked her as an "other" among her own family.

"Mr-- Vaughn basically has it. The Right Hand is what happens when you cross psychics with fanaticism. They think something otherworldly gifted their powers to them or whatever. They like to get their hands in everything." Her own parents had a sort of cavalier attitude to the whole thing. As if they were at the top of the world of the paranormal without fear of consequence or who might get hurt along the way. "So, if they're really involved in this, we should be careful."

And weirdo Wizard of Oz coding was just the Right Hand's level of pretention that she barely needed that sigil to confirm it was them involved with this.

Cautiously, Netta peered down the now open hall as Valerie shone a light down it. It didn't look so bad right now. Lots of paths, but there was only so much space for them to go under the house, so there couldn't be a ton hidden under there, right? She bit her lower lip.

"He didn't want to be involved at all. Got super antsy about it. I only barely got a glimpse at those Echoes too. That one with the box you mentioned. Didn't know there was more." Netta left Valerie's side to get a better look at the passages. She leaned her hand against the upper portion of the broken plaster and ducked her head in. Maybe there were more Echoes in the passageway? Something deeper in that could tell them what the hell was going on?

"And I don't think he'd be thrilled to hear that we found anything paranormal down here. What could we even say to him? 'Hey, Mr. Grey. Great to meet you again. Anyway, we busted down your wall and also we saw a spectral image of what looked like you in an old timey hat, but I think we could get this house on the market in two to three weeks.' It won't fly with him. Dude's like two steps away from running out of the house."

With the dust and only partially illuminated opening, it was impossible to see any Menders in there. Not that she knew what to look for. She'd heard of them, but didn't have a clue what they looked like, much less whatever the Supervisor was.

"Maybe that's why the Menders got pissy. They had people here that believed for so long and set things out for them, and then you got this guy, who doesn't believe and never gave anything. We could make a little peace offering for them."

The opening cracked under her hand, and before Netta could shift her weight back, she pitched further forward. "Fu--" Too late to shift her balance. The plaster dust came up around her in a great cloud as she hit the floor face first. Wheezing and coughing, Netta scrambled back until she was no longer halfway in the passage and sat on the basement floor until she could catch her breath again.

Netta wiped dust off her face. "God I hope this place doesn't have asbestos."

 

[idalie]

VAUGHN VALENTINE ⁠— real estate & hunter
tags: group one / BELIAL. Dover elytra ; location: 829 adams drive basement ; interactions: Arnetta, Valerie & The Echoes

He lifted his palms in surrender, jagged fingers raised toward the sky whilst his lips formed a self-pitying pout⁠—made to elicit an ounce of either woman’s compassion, “It weren’t as if I knew before y’all started a basement bookclub,” Though his charm broke, batting away any suggestion of meeting again with Lucas Grey, “Oh right, so y’don’t think this guys involved? And at least, if he ain’t, surely we’d be better off jus’ gettin’ rid of this thing real quiet-like. Why bother the fella if he’s sellin’ the place anyway? Besides,” Vaughn fidgeted, twisting a ring around his knuckle, “We can ask extra for commission in sellin’ it. Pest control, last time I checked, weren’t on the books.” Even speaking aloud the idea of a raise caused an avaricious grin, curling the very corners of the Realtor’s lips.

Rather, he used Arnetta’s comment to back his own argument, “See! Even Netta-baby agrees, Grey’s about as interested as a dog at a baptism.” Clicking his tongue abruptly, Vaughn visually hesitated to hear further that one of the echos had looked eerily akin to the current owner, mulled on for a second as he pondered whether a resemblance proved anything but strong genetics⁠—after all, before momma left she’d said he’d looked ‘kin to an uncle in his youth.

“Believe what you want ‘bout Menders,” Valentine jerked his chin rightward, directed behind him toward the dark pathway and its varying estuaries of hewn rock, “They’re a goddamn pest unless they’re payin’ bills. But I ‘spose they’d want your fuckin’ legs for that.” A whistle passed through his teeth, air being pushed forcefully outward until the collapse of the upper-wall caused Arnetta to tumble forward. A new cloud of dust and plaster rose up about them in renewed fog, causing Vaughn to cough, brushing himself down with a critical tut. As if he hadn’t already bodied a hole from one side to the other.

“Oh asbestos just one of them health myths, doll, I mean how bad it oughta be?” His thumb once again ran the length of his index, agitatedly circling back and forth, missing the fidgeting hold of a slim cigarette rather than the itchy nicotine patch that’d begun to peel off the back of his neck. Unceremoniously stepping across her fallen form, Vaughn tapped his brogues against the floorboards to nudge off any loose debris, finding himself back again peering into the darkness with its weak illumination.

Faint movement. It hadn’t crossed his mind whether they were spiritual or physical, yet the sight of others in that network beneath the house constituted a greater crime: Culprits. Trespass, even, and he’d known those laws as clear as if they’d been tattooed on his own face⁠—be it thankful for the court’s who’d condemned him to his own light sentences and community service. He’d agree that staying behind bars had greater allure than scrubbing graffiti off a bus stop.

Valentine moved forward, step by step until he broke into a run, briefcase securely clamped under his arm without a rattle besides the echoing footfall; seeing them vanish into the leftmost of the tunnels, “HEY,” Whether the dark obscured them, or the men had evaporated, the Realtor slipped out his phone⁠—aiming the dying screen light further beyond. “I swear, we got a lawyer more than willin’ to clap some poor bastard with an order to vacate y’hear? Whatever the fuck that is. Supervisor my ass, four whitecollar rejects in a basement thinkin’ they’re castin’ spells like it’s a bathroom at a girl’s catholic school,”

coded by archangel_

 

[BELIAL.]

valerie kallagher.

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  mm... work casual minus coat
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  829 adams drive (basement) -> tunnels
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  idalie Dover Ha_lfLife Sear
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Things were slowly starting to, possibly, piece together; though Valerie was sure that there was something still missing in the grand tapestry the three were beginning to piece together. Netta’s comment about the Echo looking like Lucas, an ancestor probably, along with the growing hypothesis that Menders were to blame for the missing objects and perhaps, somehow, the death of the grandmother, led Val to believe slowly and surely that they were sorely in over their heads.

Not that they’d never tackled something of this calibre before, and she could recite a handful of houses that really pushed what was truly ‘atypical’ of a haunted house real estate agency. Still, perhaps due to the draft from the gaping hole in the wall, she felt entirely unprepared for anything that would happen next. She wanted to regroup with the crew upstairs, get a better head for things, and then dive back down into it.

But of course, as sure as she was keen to get a move on up the stairs, both Vaughn and Netta seemed to have different ideas. In Netta’s case she didn’t blame her, for once the woman had already toppled headfirst into the hole after placing her arm in a bad spot, Val had let out a surprised shriek. A peppering of ‘are-you-okay’ barely registered as she watched Vaughn’s whole bravado reach further than his own shadow.

Then he was off. Into the unforgivable hole in the wall.

“VAUGHN ARE YOU KIDDING M--,”

Val shrieked, exhaling in a loud groan as she quickly joined Netta’s side to help her up.

“We’ve got to go. Excuse the language, but God-fucking-dammit!”

Surely Vaughn could hold his own, but if she knew anything from working at Ackehurst, it was that going alone was never a safe option.

“That idiot’s going to get the rest of his fingers chopped off, or worse, killed!”

Val fumbled quickly with her phone, sliding the screen and rushing with shaking fingers to tap out Charlie’s contact. She wasn’t sure whether or not cell service would go when they travelled further, but she wasn’t about to go entirely without backup.

Handing the journal to Netta, Val felt her heart jump out of her throat as the dial tone rang.

“Try to keep an eye on where he’s gone, I don’t want us to lose him.”

She had one hand over the receiver before it clicked, and her attention quickly diverted to a wall to glare at.

“Charlie!”

She barked as soon as the line picked up, her gaze worryingly flitting down the tunnel’s gaping pathways.

“Charlie, listen, please. T-Tell Harlow that we need backup.”

“Who?” Came the response, to which Val was already fighting a losing battle with her quickly evaporating cool.

“The one with the sword,”

she seethed into the phone, already beginning a stuttered pace toward following where Vaughn had gone. She gave a quick look to Netta, a mask of fear.

“There’s literally nobody else there Charlie that isn’t the fucking homeowner…”

The last of her words fading to a puckered breath as she hard Charlie on the other line.

“Hey, Hi, are you Harlow? Oh great, Val needs you downstairs. I’m Charlie by the way, I’m Val’s sister-”

“For god’s sake!”

Valerie cried out again, already shrugging off her coat.

“Just tell them to come down. You need to stay there Charlie, I don’t know how long I’ve got signal but--”

By the time she’d finished her sentence she already heard the call dropping. Her coat was off and onto the ground as they moved to follow Vaughn, and she regretted dropping it on the floor, but with the intersection they were approaching, she figured that some way of Harlow hopefully following them was better than nothing.

Using the phone as a light once more, and feeling the uneasy chill descend on her shoulders, she carried on toward Vaughn with Netta in tow.

ghosts again

depeche mode

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Ha_lfLife]

CHARLIE KALLAGHER
location: 829 Adams Dr., Sitting Room ; interactions: BELIAL. elytra Sear

Charlie drew in a sharp breath, nearly jumping at the sudden appearance of another in the room. From a quick enough glance, anyone’s shadow could look like her, lingering ever closer. Once her heart settled, a more comprehensive look over at the stranger confirmed that she’d seen them in the foyer among the others before darting off on Val’s tail.

Honestly, Charlie was glad for Harlow’s interjection, taking the young homeowner’s attention away from her so she could focus further of the pictures adhered to the thick pages without putting on such a cheery face.

Something was bugging her. But what? Her eyes met with the sullen gaze of the Westfield graduate. The colors were all faded, the crispness of his face dangerously close to fading into a blur. That’s what happened, she guessed, with developed photos. Especially those that were trapped behind yellowing plastic covers for fifteen to twenty years. Her eyes parted from the young, handsome face and caught on something in the background. Hanging above the gym’s bleachers - which served as the graduation photo’s backdrop - was a hand painted banner exclaiming LET’S GO BOMBERS! and underneath the large, capital letters was a smaller, loopier script. Charlie squinted a little, leaning closer to the album so her nose nearly touched the page. Congrats, Class of 199-

The abrupt chimes of a cheap ringtone rendition of “Hotline Bling” startled Charlie into shutting the book with a noticeable thud (can you believe you can still buy Motorola ringtones via text?! She couldn’t either). She brushed off the startled shake that trembled down her arms and reached into her back pocket for the offensive device, furrowing her brow as she saw it was her sister. Val couldn’t even walk across a house to talk to her now? Lazy ass.

Charlie answered to a series of rushed demands. “Who?” Who was Harlow?

And when Val impatiently answered her, Charlie turned to look at the other two in the room, turning her magnetic - albeit somewhat forced - smile at Harlow. “Hey, Hi, are you Harlow? Oh great, Val needs you downstairs.” Then, realizing how alien the conversation was, switched her phone to her left hand and extended her right to the stranger. “I’m Charlie by the way, I’m Val’s sister-”

The introduction was cut short by Val’s conniptions, which Charlie listened to with a half-invested manner. Despite the particularly high stakes of this specific encounter, in Charlie’s eyes Val always had something to be freaking out over. This conversation was pretty much par for the course.

“What’s wrong? Did you swallow a bug again?”

But all that met her in response was the cutting of the line. Alright then, let Val calm down in her own time.

It became increasingly unignorable that Charlie couldn’t shake the chill. It had started creeping down her neck like icicles when she’d looked at that picture. She only saw it for a split second, but she always remembered what she read. And without a single doubt, she remembered what that banner had said. Class of 1990.

But how? She ran through the numbers in her head. Graduating Class of ‘90. That’d put the homeowner at around fifty. The guy standing there wasn’t fifty, not even in a “looking stellar for fifty”, Cindy Crawford kind of way. The guy practically still had baby face. How-?

She gingerly placed the photo album on the top of the piano, channeling her wiles into repressing any of that eerie, gut-deep feeling so that it didn’t bubble at the surface. On the outside, she was simply charming, sweet Charlie.

Was Val okay?

“So what year did you graduate? Valerie graduated in 2010. Maybe you two knew some folks in common.” She gave Lucas a dimpled smile, no trace in her expression of the pointed intention of her question.

coded by archangel_

 

[mourning star]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

MOOD. Frazzled and questioning reality.

ADDRESS 289 Fairway Drive.

LOCATION. The Upside-down Living Room.

MENTIONS Guy // elytra .

aamira 'mimi' ismail.

/* ------ right side ------ */

Mimi blinked up at Guy after she had adjusted Tickles, her confidence wavering as she noted his hesitancy. The tone he spoke with, frustration mixed with resignation, had her lowering her arms. Her stance shifted again as Tickles spoke once more, goading the poor man into joining them in the small space.

While her descent had been less than graceful, Mimi was ill-prepared for the way Guy just… fell into the room.

A gasp left her involuntarily, taking several steps forward and hovering before she could catch herself.

“Oh, no. Guy, are you okay?” She questioned, her brows furrowed even as he hauled himself to his feet and moved past her to peer around the room. She didn’t pay much mind to the room at that moment, not until her companion was voicing his distaste over some of the furniture.

Her gaze flickered around the room, taking in the strange layout with a curious twinge to her brow.

She found herself walking the space, taking in the bookshelf and the different elements. While she was interested in touching the books, she found herself drawn to the light. She could hear Guy discussing the layout — a steadfast occurrence that had some of the tension in her shoulders easing. She glanced his way, a half-smile passing over her lips before she was reaching out to turn the lamp on.

When nothing happened, she tried once more.

Still nothing.

Curious to see if the thing was currently plugged in, she shifted to kneel on the floor. The cord was stretched beneath the side table; so, she found herself looking underneath.

As she crouched down to peer under the table, a metallic sheen caught her eye.

Blinking curiously, she felt herself reaching out towards the alarm clock laid beneath the surface. There was a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ movement around the clock. She jerked her arm back, brown eyes wide as she peered into the dark waiting to see if it had been a fluke. Another movement had her startling backward, sitting up and wrapping a hand around the handle of one of the screwdrivers at her toolbelt without thought.

The creatures that emerged from under the stand were small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. Small, brown balls of fuzz crowded around the smashed alarm clock as they quietly pulled the alarm clock from underneath the stand out into the open.

Wordlessly, Mimi got to her feet.

The creatures seemed to have a plan, it seemed. Pulling the alarm clock across the carpet, leaving small indents, they began to crawl into a small hole that the pair hadn’t noticed before.

In just a few seconds, gone was the clock, and gone were the creatures — set off into the dark with their keep.

Letting out a disbelieving huff, Mimi found herself walking towards the hole. She crouched down, peering into the small tunnel in time to watch the last of these creatures disappear off into the distance with the clock in hand.

Mimi sat back on her heels, eyes wide as she silently gazed over to Guy with disbelief written all over her face.

“Okay…” She huffed, trying to formulate a coherent thought. “I’m… I’m not hallucinating, am I? You saw those things too, right?”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Sear]

harlow tulach.

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  armed and comfy
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  adams drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  lucas elytra , Charlie Ha_lfLife
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The call hadn’t caught their attention, nor had the slammed book that Harlow had been looking at. For all they knew, she had become bored of vintage photos, and although they wanted to keep looking to get a handle on the family's history they didn’t push, instead they had moved to keep looking around the room. That was, before the introduction that had been clearly directed to them.

“Oh, yes I’m Harlow,” a furrowed brow followed the rushed introduction as they stuck out their own hand to shake Charlie’s (it was nice to finally put a name to a face) and then were left hanging, staring in confusion at Charlie and the phone in her hand. Swallow a bug? Needed downstairs? Without hearing Valerie on the other side of the phone, Harlow had no context to the conversation but they recovered fast.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Harlow gave a smile that was not as apologetic as their tone made it sound, before moving around the other two in the room. “It seems my skills are needed elsewhere. I'll leave you to discuss.” Leaving the two behind, the exorcist slipped from the room to hurry down the stairs, suppressing the prickling sensation of concern beginning to blossom when the basement didn’t reveal their fellow coworkers like they had been hoping. Instead a hole in the wall welcomed them, signs revealing that the rest of the team had headed into it - instead of sitting around outside of it. Harlow hovered at the precipice for a brief second, the tunnel gaping in front of them, a hand brushing against the hilt of their weapon where engraving soothed the hairs standing on the back of their neck. A tunnel, with only the gods knew what, and apparently the team had moved into it.

Feeling more collected than they had before they ducked into the tunnel and broke into a run. They’d figure out which path to take later - hopefully. They'd place their trust in Valerie and the others to guide them even when the screen of their phone revealed no service.

tamer

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[elytra]

guy van every.

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  gritting his teeth and trying to smile through the pain
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  casual guy ready to take on the world (and ghosts)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  the basement of 289 Fairway Drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  tickles, mimi ( mourning star )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

At first, Guy had ultimately focused on the bookcase. Way back- God only knew how far back, honestly -he’d been obsessed with secret doors. Had watched all those youtube videos on them and everything. Hidden wall entrances, bookcase doors, hatches under rugs, the works. His parents had one in the study, tucked away near the back bookcase, which he’d found by accident when trying to stealthily pull their copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. He hadn’t gotten past opening it, as the loud noise it made alerted his mother, but he’d been interested in them since that point. Nothing like a good secret passage for those with paranoid minds.

Apparently, though, sentient houses didn’t feel the same. 5 books and no door later, he decided it was probably unlikely to happen and instead turned his attention elsewhere. Seeing Mimi bend down was enough to catch his gaze. He wandered next to her, crouching down as well, just in time to see a broken alarm clock being absconded with.

He let Mimi go to the hole, while he instead looked at the area of carpet the clock used to be in. He reached out to pick up a shard of glass, but it was quickly snatched from his fingers by one of the fuzzy beasts, which quickly marathon-ran its way to the hole, away from prying eyes.

“Menders.”

Guy said, a frown tugging at his lips as he used the table to more easily stand up.

“Basically the brownies’ less benevolent cousins, if you’ve heard of those.”

Little bastards.

“There’s something we can agree on.”

He picked up the lamp, turning it over in his hands.

“Don’t know why they’d be here, though.”

Guy didn’t have much experience with menders. Knew of them, had seen some pictures, yet never interacted with them. The little creatures were more trouble than they were worth, taking a gruesome wage in exchange for their work, whether their client consented or not. They were brutal little things. He had to admire their tenacity.

He also knew, however, that menders were never usually the immediate issue. More the calm before the storm, if anything. If there were menders, then there was usually something far worse nearby protecting them.

Guy toyed with the lamp a bit, eyes on the hole in the wall.

“If they’re here, they think there’s something to fix. If they’re not fixing that alarm here and leaving it in the room…they think there’s something else wrong with it.”

Of course there was something wrong. It was atrociously out of place in an already disgusting room.

The way Tickles put it, it was clearly a joke. But maybe there was something to that. The room was decorated in a specific style, yet some items showed a lack of attention to detail. The clock was modern, the lamp was 70s…

You’re thinking a lot.

“I tend to do that.”

You should stop before you overheat like one of those old computers and we have to scrape whatever’s left of your noggin out of this rug.

What a wonderful way to put it. Guy held back on commenting on how Tickles would be unable to do that anyway, considering how immobile he was. Instead, he tossed the lamp in his hands once. Twice.

“Well, when in doubt, try stuff out.”

Guy finally said after a moment of consideration.

What the fuck are you on about? Stop being va-- NO PUT THAT DOWN

Guy raised the lamp above his head, before slamming it into the ground with all the force he could. It shattered, and the shards scattered around the rug, most of them chunky pieces. One happened to cut him across the palm, causing some blood to trickle from the wound. He wasn’t that bothered, though. Worse had happened.

Great job, einstein. I’m sure that’ll help. You better not put me back on the ground where that shit can pierce my fabric. I’ll kill you. I’ll send psychic waves into your brain and melt it.

”Calm down.”

Guy said, rolling his eyes, before gesturing down at the mess. The menders had scampered back out of the hole and were collecting up the pieces of the lamp, dragging it to wherever their tunnel went to.

”They’re taking anything out of place out of the room. They probably couldn’t fit the lamp through there while it was in one piece.”

He looked to Mimi, hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

”It was also cathartic. Truly, I think it brightened the space a bit. No one likes a nonfunctional lamp that doesn’t fit the theme.”

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[elytra]

lucas grey (npc).

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  eager to get rid of this damn house
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  adams drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  harlow ( Sear ), charlie ( Ha_lfLife )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Before Lucas had time to answer Harlow’s questions, they were already leaving to whatever task had come up. Lucas, however, didn’t seem at all bothered by it; instead, he seemed to elect to now ignore the questions asked instead. His gaze briefly followed Harlow, before going back to Charlie.

“Off the top of my head, I don’t know. Maybe we knew some of the same people.”

He replied easily when asked when he graduated, and soon quickly changed the topic.

“Was that your sister on the phone?”

His gaze went to the basement door again, as if he were trying to gauge what was going on without actually venturing down there.

“If they’re destroying my basement, they better fix it as well.”

If he had any real concern, it wasn't found in his voice. Lucas seemed neutral at best when it came to the possible destruction of the basement, his tone sounding more casual than actually worried. He made no move to head down into the basement to check on them, nor to tell Charlie that he preferred the house to not be completely destroyed.

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[elytra]

the supervisor (npc).

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  prettiest girl at the party (skin mask) (nana is that you???)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  the tunnels
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  harlow ( Sear ), val ( BELIAL. ), vaughn ( idalie ), netta ( Dover )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

It was clear the tunnels were old. Everything was covered in dust, enough that the group’s steps almost left footprints as they were, a sort of trail leading back from where they came. Not that they could see it well; the further they went, the darker the tunnel got. The intersection wasn’t that far ahead, but it was enough. Looking back would offer little other than the light at the end of where they came from. The branch of the tunnels that circled back, that they hadn’t gone into as of that point, was pitch black, the remnants of an old oil lamp shattered on the ground glinting in the light from the phones held by the three.

Any sign of the echoes were gone. They’d disappeared further down the tunnels, faded out like a flame in the wind. If there was anything else down there, it didn’t make itself known right away. There was little to be heard other than their own breathing and talking. Further away was the sound of something dripping onto the floor in a slow, rhythmic pattern, and every so often something would creek.

Then, there was a noise- like nails on a chalkboard. It came from behind them, in the tunnel that circled back in the intersection. It rang out into the space, echoing off the walls, before going silent again. Following such was some scampering, and a small group of minute, fuzzy creatures scurried past the legs of Netta, Vaughn, and Val. The creatures seemed to pay them no mind, disappearing into the darkness of the upcoming left tunnel.

“H-H-HEEEEYYY,”

A voice rang out, sounding similar to Vaughns, if not a bit distorted and drawn out. Like someone who hadn’t spoken for a while, getting used to the act of being verbal once more.

A hulking mass pulled itself into the light of the phones held by the employees. The confines of the tunnel forced it to crouch over a bit, its knobby back nearly pressed against the ceiling. Grey-skinned clawed hands pressed into the dirt walls, using them to move itself forwards more easily. A long tail dragged behind it, spike-like protrusions trawling along the ground to create the nails-on-chalkboard noise from earlier.

Its face was likely the most disturbing. The pale skin of another animal stretched across it like a mask in a way that made it clear that whatever it had gotten it from was much smaller. It had clearly been ripped, sewing lines across the cheeks visible in different colors of thread, but clearly not all the damage could be fixed. From the top lip down, the skin was torn away like paper. A gaping mouth hung open below, full of sharp teeth that were rowed like that of a shark. When speaking, its mouth didn’t move, instead projecting the sound in a similar manner to a gramophone.

It lurched forward, wide black eyes staring at the group, dull and almost lifeless in a way.

“DON’T vacate, stay there!”

It spoke again, its head tilting in a way that made the skin mask it was wearing peel away a bit, hanging away from its own flesh as it watched them. It seemed to take words from the members of the group, its voice alternating between mimicking Vaughn and Val, doing an almost perfect replica of each.

One of its knobby hands reached out, a clawed finger extending towards Netta.

“Poor bastardS…”

It spoke again, words echoing around them.

“Poor bastardS, isn’t fucking homeowner!”

seasick

adam young

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Dover]

---

location

it's tunnel time babyyyy

role

crew.

CW

monster body horror, vague references to Junji Ito

mentions

elytra idalie BELIAL. Sear

Arnetta 'Netta' Webber.

As a teenager, Netta had read a weird comic about a mountain with person-shaped holes in it that somehow compelled people to enter them, as if they were hypnotized. It had some pretty grotesque images, but more importantly, it created a healthy fear in a young Netta of any opening that was dark and vaguely human-sized. Vaughn, evidently, had either never read it or it had never instilled a gut instinct for self-preservation in him, because he was barrelling in, leaving her and Valerie gaping in shock.

She scrambled to her feet with Valerie's help, not even bothering to dust herself off or process exactly what the hell Vaughn meant about asbestos being a health myth.

"The rest of his fingers?" Netta repeated blankly. He was missing fingers already? She hadn't even noticed. The presence of fingers hardly seemed important when he'd already disappearing in the darkness of the tunnels.

She took the journal, gripping it knuckle tight while Valerie called for backup on her cell, and squinted down the hole in the wall. "Uh, Valerie? He's like, running down the tunnels." And rapidly becoming difficult to see beyond a flickering light from around a corner. From the one-sided conversation, it sounded like Harlow was coming though. That was good. Maybe they could scrape the rest of them off the floor once the Menders were done with them.

Tense, and despite all her instincts telling her to turn around and at least go grab the sledgehammer, Netta followed Valerie down the tunnels. She kept close. The light streaming from Valerie's camera phone was the only thing keeping her imagination from getting the best of her. Or if not her imagination, then the creeping realization that getting into a dark scary hole with potential paranormal creatures in it while you were rocking a bad luck curse was maybe a bad idea. A really bad idea. Especially when you didn't let anyone else around you know you were cursed, and they could potentially get caught in the crossfire.

The house creaked around them as they moved. Sediment fell from the cramped ceiling onto the floor as the house settled on its foundation. Her arms felt like they were tingling, then the back of her neck. Something cold and heavy settled on her chest. Just anxiety. It was fine. It was just a creepy house. Quiet except for their footfalls as they tried to catch up to Vaughn.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Netta tried to call out to Vaughn. "You have a whole ass person on your team with a sword. Maybe let's wait for--."

Netta inhaled sharply as something brushed past her legs and instinctively grabbed for Valerie's arm for comfort. "Something just touched me."

Then the sound of footfalls again, but this time not their own or even Vaughn's ahead of them. Rapid ones, coming from behind them. And because she didn't have any other weapon and her fear had made her entirely forget that Harlow was coming for backup, Netta raised the journal defensively.

"H-H-HEEEEYYY."

She froze. The cold heavy feeling in her chest instead became ice cold along her extremities, as Not-Vaughn's voice called out to them. She turned, distracted from the sound of someone running up as she finally caught glimpse of the creature. A hulking thing, pushing it's way through a too small pathway and visible only by the flickering and rapidly moving lights of the phones. It's face was wrong. Like another face, also too small, was stretched impossibly thin over it and torn to create a sickening smile.

Netta screamed.

Then, with all the force she could muster, Netta swung the journal around and slapped at the unnaturally long, clawed finger creeping closer to her. She didn't have a sledgehammer, but if she had to taken this thing down with a goddamn book, she would. No way she was dying in some fucking weirdo basement.

 

[mourning star]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

MOOD. Exasperated and questioning all the critters in the room.

ADDRESS 289 Fairway Drive.

LOCATION. The Upside-down Living Room.

MENTIONS Guy // elytra .

aamira 'mimi' ismail.

/* ------ right side ------ */

It seemed her companion had very little sense in terms of self-preservation. Deft hands lifted to tug away the knot of her scarf, allowing her braids to slip free and tumble down past the middle of her back. The material was soft, expensive in a way that she didn’t often wear; but still, she wrapped the garment up and stepped close to Guy.

With a gentle huff of breath that highlighted her resignation, Mimi kept her eyes on the ragged slash across his palm.

“Of all things to do with creatures on the loose, you make yourself bleed,” She scolded quietly, dark brown eyes narrowed as the menders scampered past, their shards of red-and-white clasped in hand. “I’m not Tickles, so I won’t insult your intelligence… but, you owe me because that scarf is cashmere.”

Mimi was quiet as she finished tying off the scarf, her hands falling away to settle crossed along her chest. Fingers twisted into the muscle of her arms, tightening her grip as she considered the menders and their intention to collect the miscellaneous items left in the room. She found herself drifting, taking in the table and its random clutter that had accumulated along the tabletop.

Her lips twisted down into a frown, tilting her head as she looked over the collection of coins on the table. Perhaps it might be foolish to tamper with more things than she should; but, they were going to be stuck in the room regardless if she touched a few random items or not.

Gently scooping one of the coins into her palm, she walked forward to present one of the coins near the small tunnel the menders kept disappearing into. A small presentation to see if they would take an interest or ignore it entirely.

Mimi got to her feet, settling side-by-side with Guy as she eyed his hand once more.

“So… we’re stuck in this room until everything makes sense, design-wise.” She stated plainly, some of her braids slipping past her shoulder to pool over her chest. Brushing her hair back with a sigh, she continued to speak directly to her companion. “While I trust your judgment, I’m also not exactly sure of the magnitude we’re dealing with. And, you also smashed the lamp and cut your hand, so we’re both gonna take a step back here and work things out together.”

Her gaze landed on the octopus plushie in Guy’s arm, entirely serious as she asked, “Tickles, tell me—what is out of place in the room? I know you and Guy see basically the same thing; but, just hit me with what’s on your mind.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[elytra]

guy van every.

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  gritting his teeth and trying to smile through the pain
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  casual guy ready to take on the world (and ghosts)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  the basement of 289 Fairway Drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  tickles, mimi ( mourning star )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

"I'll buy you a new scarf once we're out of here."

It was an easy promise to make. Guy wasn't all that miffed about cutting his palm, to be entirely honest, but he'd let Mimi do whatever made her more comfortable. It was unlikely the scarf would ever be unstained again after his blood soaked through it, of course; blood was hard to get out. He could just take a look at the tag though and go from there. While he wasn't a completely materialistic person, growing up wealthy had managed to make him rather flippant when it came to breaking things.

He watched Mimi offer the coin to the hole. After it was placed down, a mender scurried out. It picked up the coin, inspecting the inscription on it, before tossing it aside and running back into the tunnel. Once it was tossed aside, Guy wandered over to it himself. He picked it up to have a better look. In God We Trust, Liberty, 1950. No mint mark, but he wasn't sure that even mattered. It wasn't as if the menders were taking things based off value.

At the commentary of taking a step back, he shrugged his shoulders. He flipped the coin absentmindedly off his thumb, then slapped it down. Tails. He always appreciated the tails side more than the heads, it felt luckier somehow.

"I won't say I regret smashing the lamp, but I'll be more hands off."

Tickles, meanwhile, seemed to preen despite being inanimate, pleased with being addressed directly for assistance.

We don't see all the same things all the time. But even if we did, I'd still be the better choice of who to ask.

As per usual, completely egotistical. Not that Guy had any right to comment. He'd made the plush like that, so it was entirely his own fault.

Everything's ugly, of course. But I wouldn't say that's out of place. That's just poor choice. Put me in the center, on the table.

Guy, apparently now a personal chauffer to an octopus plush, did as he was told and put Tickles down on the table that sat in the middle of the room. Tickles was silent for a moment, simply sitting there. Either he was assessing the room or pretending to assess it; Guy truly wasn't sure what was more likely.

They don't like the magazine I'm on top of.

Guy raised an eyebrow, before picking up the magazine that Tickles sat on. HGTV, 1983. Still looked surprisingly new. While getting out of the room should've been on the forefront of his mind, Guy couldn't help but consider how many of these items were legitimate and mint condition, and how much they would go for on Ebay. Despite that, he held the magazine out to Mimi. His gut told him to rip it up and toss it on the ground, but he would resist for the moment.

”Have a look.”

He offered

"Maybe there's something interesting."

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Ha_lfLife]

CHARLIE KALLAGHER
location: 829 Adams Dr., Sitting Room > Basement ; interactions: elytra

Charlie raised a brow as she realized she’d struck a chord. She knew a bunch of poor saps didn’t love high school. Hell, she was one of them. But who couldn’t remember their graduation year on a whim?

Come on, Markiplier. Charlie kept her sweetest and most inviting gaze. Answer me. But he didn’t elaborate further, instead getting visibly shifty as he talked about the noises coming from the basement.

She could’ve started rambling off random acquaintances of Val’s whose names she’d kept uselessly stored in her memory all these years, but what good would that do? Both she and he knew, as her dark eyes locked to Lucas’s, that neither of them believed he was anywhere near Val’s age.

“Yeah it was…” Charlie nodded, trying to come off as unbothered, crossing her forearms over each other to hide the goosebumps prickling on her skin. “She said she needed me, so I’m just gonna...” She jerked her head in the direction of the stairs down to the basement. “I should probably go see what she wants. I’ll make sure she’s not tearing down any load-bearing walls.” She flashed him a smile that tried to come off as light-hearted, but her nerves were creeping through, making it feel forced. “Nice to meet you, though.”

As she turned to go, Lucas took her forcefully by the wrist. “Don’t.” His tone, though formerly passive, was now prickling with desperation. “Don’t go down there. Please.”

Charlie’d frozen in his grip, though she tried to keep her cool. She looked down to the hand that gripped her wrist, seeing a tattoo of a flame on its back. It wouldn’t have seemed weird on its own, except that it was half-covered with a smeared layer of concealer. What was this guy’s deal? She took in a quiet breath through her nose and, upon releasing it, asked as calmly as she could. “Why not?”

“Just trust me.”

“Let go of me, please.” Charlie demanded with a sharp tug of her arm, but to no avail.

Oh Christ, he was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and wall up her body with the others before her. That’s why he didn’t want her to go down there. And then years later, the cops would find her corpse and Lifetime would make a crime docuseries about her with some shit name like Charlie in the Chimney. Her only comforting thought was that, as long as he’d been up here with her all this time, Val was safe for the moment.

She had to warn Val. They had to get the fuck out of here.

Charlie was never the brawny nor coordinated type, and even with the extra burst of energy that the adrenaline offered, her breakaway effort was a clumsy one. She had aimed her foot between his legs, but instead landed a kick on his left knee. Though not the target she’d intended, the attack caused Lucas to falter. Charlie twisted her wrist free, bolting for the basement.

Fuck this FUCK THIS. Charlie thought to herself, as she fell back on the door at the top of the basement stairs, putting her entire weight against it while she fumbled for the lock. It wasn’t even ten in the morning, and shit was already hitting the fan.

“Val?!” As Charlie calmed her breathing, she realized how quiet it was in the room. She took some cautious steps downwards, finding the basement empty aside from the human-sized hole punched through the wall. “You’re kidding.”

She stared at the hole for a moment or two, before resolutely shaking her head and heading back for the stairs. But, looking up to the fastened door at the top, she weighed if it was worth risking running into the homeowner again. Besides, she really did need to find Val. She pivoted slowly and turned back to face the hole.

coded by archangel_

 

[mourning star]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

MOOD. A little lost and very inquisitive.

ADDRESS 289 Fairway Drive.

LOCATION. The Upside-down Living Room.

MENTIONS Guy // elytra .

aamira 'mimi' ismail.

/* ------ right side ------ */

His promise caused a huff of laughter to leave her full lips, a touch amused despite the circumstance. While she was painstakingly aware of what was classified as luxury versus necessity, she also knew Guy also had a similar background as her. Money, as had been ingrained in them by wealthy parents and lenient allowances, was no real burden to spend.

Still, she appreciated his unnecessary attempt to appease her.

“You better,” She teased him primly, her former frustration negated by his simple statement.

Her attention quickly shifted to the mender as it scampered from the wall, eyeing the coin before quickly tossing it aside. As Guy shifted to inspect the coin, she found herself letting out a lingering sigh. Of course, she lamented, they had yet to find a solution. It seemed they were doomed to be stuck in a fifties living room with sentient dust bunnies collecting small shards of glass and broken clocks forever.

“So, no on the ‘alms’ thing, got it,” She murmured, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. “It was worth a shot; but, no dice, it seems.”

The echoing of a disembodied voice inside her mind didn’t bother her as much as it had when she had first begun working with Guy.

She merely winced before she settled once more.

Her gaze hadn’t wavered on the octopus plush, curious, as Guy set him on the table and gave him space to evaluate the known evidence they possessed.

Fighting back a smile despite herself at the gloating, she blinked at the reference to the magazine. Her companion easily picked it up, looking over the cover before holding it out to her.

“Thank you,” She murmured because she wasn’t the type to forget her manners—even while trapped in a poorly-designed living room.

Without hesitancy, she grabbed the last page and ripped the paper in half.

Once more she walked towards the miniature tunnel, holding the paper in front of the entrance easily. Her hold was loose, acknowledging the fact that she might get nipped in the process for her troubles.

“You said they don’t like some of the things in the room.” Mimi shot a glance towards Guy, brushing her braids back over his shoulder. “Let’s test the theory here—they stole an alarm clock, the lamp; but, they said no to the coin. If they take the magazine, that means all three of the things they took have something in common.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[idalie]

VAUGHN VALENTINE ⁠— real estate & hunter
tags: group one / BELIAL. Dover elytra Sear ; location: 829 adams drive basement ; interactions: Arnetta, Valerie, The Supervisor

Vaughn was never one to be intimidated by big and ugly, call it a byproduct of his career that’d either left him half-dead or triumphant. Ever the one to think they hadn’t killed him yet, so they never could—and a man who thinks he’s outside the realms of death, is a man who either proves himself a miracle or a martyr, with Valentine teetering in the middle and no less delusional for it. The echoes of their voices were cast back, menders scurrying past their feet as rats prior to a flood. Vaughn kicked out, catching few of the creatures prior to driving one into the tunnel floor with a snap and crunch. Soft and warm beneath his heel.

Both women had followed, Arnetta’s voice rising against the daunting quiet in those precious moments before the beast began its long march. Valentine sank his good hand into that well-tailored jacket, drawing the weight of a gun from his holster. Heavy in his hands, metal warm from it’s cradle near his chest, the hammer cocked in a swift click—waiting for closer, closer, enough to see the torn and stretched nature of its face. Where the skin hung as though a handkerchief on an embroidery hoop, slashed about the mouth with greater slack.

Here was threat and here was violence; albeit no juddering thunderclap deafened the tunnel when Vaughn tugged the pistol’s trigger. No recoil rolled up his arms in a jolt, nor gunpowder of a hot muzzle, the trigger was by all means jammed. His mouth dried, near instantaneously, however Arnetta would make her defence as it reached out toward the woman, utilising the journal of all weapons. More embarrassingly, what an adequate offensive it turned out to be.

Vaughn dropped his briefcase between wrestling with his .45 until a shot echoed up into the tunnel ceiling with a reverberating crack.

During moments of defining fuck-ups, the Hunter imagined some steralised future if he’d gotten a nice job in insurance: a flat-pack mansion home in some wasteland like Ohio and a wife that saw the best in him only to regret it once she learned of the worst. He’d get balding, pudgy, run off with his secretary and end up back in an RV as though the cycle of life and death had an unavoidable inside joke where he was the inexhaustible punchline. It was that or weigh how much grief his mother and father ought dispense. How much they believed he was worth.

He scrambled across, skidding onto his knees whilst Valerie’s light blinded the creature, fumbling for the case now strewn aside as the latches popped open and lid sprang, glinting a revolver and it’s broad bullets. “Swords,” He muttered, breath hoarse, no less ungrateful for the thought of Harlow but the concept of being beaten by someones overgrown kitchen utensil.

Spinning the chamber he turned and jerked his head aside, “I ain’t leavin’ till I got that things goddamn hide,” Adding through clenched teeth, “I fuckin’ hate suburbia.

coded by archangel_

 

[Sear]

harlow tulach.

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  adams drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  supervisor elytra , Netta Dover Vaughn idalie Valerie BELIAL.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Valerie was a genius. The coat at their feet was covered in dust, but it was a marker if they had ever seen one, and Harlow didn’t waste time on dusting it off before draping it over their shoulders. Footsteps resounding in the tunnel from their quickly increasing speed at a scream echoing, they rounded a corner to first see the walls illuminated by the dim lights of phones and then the rest of the team. One, two, three - all there. Four -

Then the hulking mass of a monster.

Harlow had seen monsters. A family up to their neck in monster hunting offered opportunities to gain lifetime long trauma paired with experience, and their work didn’t spare them from run-ins either. It didn’t make the swallow that skipped over a dry throat, irritated by dust, go down any easier as they pushed forward to act.

Panic ticked in the back of their mind, a building threat as their sword glinted and landed a hit they hadn’t even realized they were aiming. Beaten in instincts had guided a hand that had drawn their blade, assessing the minimal space at their fingertips and pulling the hit before it could do the damage they had prayed it would. It’d leave a nasty slash in any other situation, but here all it did was earn them attention.

Attention that they didn’t exactly have a method to deal with at that moment, nor were they certain any of the others did either. Vaughn was off to their side, the click of a chamber both reassuring and disconcerting. Harlow trusted the hunter, not the circumstances. If a bullet ricocheted, it would be the end to more than just the beast. Valerie’s light had earned them time, but for how much longer? Unless that book Netta was wielding could deal considerable damage, the amount of weapons they could utilize in close quarters and dim lighting wasn’t looking too good.

“Shit Vaughn,” Harlow readjusted their grip on their weapon, lips set in a grim line as they kicked their brain into overdrive. “We need space.”

Think - With one hand still free, they pulled at the coat draped over their shoulders and threw it forward, letting the fabric settle and conceal the face of the monster for precious seconds.

“Let’s run .”

tamer

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[elytra]

guy van every.

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  gritting his teeth and trying to smile through the pain
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  casual guy ready to take on the world (and ghosts)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  the basement of 289 Fairway Drive
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  tickles, mimi ( mourning star )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The menders scurried out of their hole once more, and proceeded to drag the remnants of the magazine back into it. It crinkled a bit as they snatched it from Mimi's hand, paying her little attention as they scampered away once more. One poked it's head out again to look at the rest of the magazine, which Mimi was still holding. Then, after a second where it appeared to decide she wasn't going to drop it right away, it ducked back into the wall once more.

Well, they took the magazine page. And clearly they wanted the rest of it, judging by how they were acting. So, what was the pattern? A lamp, a magazine, and an alarm clock, but not a coin. They weren't just taking any object they could get their hands on. There was something to it.

Give the rest to them before they steal our bones.

Tickles piped up once more from his table, and Guy bopped him on the head once with his hand. It was just a instinctual reaction after years of dealing with the plush. If Tickles could move, Guy had no doubts he'd engage in similar behavior.

"Not ours. You don't have bones to steal."

Guy corrected, before looking to Mimi

"Though, he isn't wrong. We don't want to piss them off. Best to give them the rest."

He then walked to the shelf, shuffling some of the books around. There still weren't doors, which meant either there was more to do or they were on the wrong track. Either way, they had to figure something out.

"We could start tearing the room apart and throwing things on the floor. Eventually, we'd have to get all the things they hate out of here."

He commented, pulling out another book- Hatchet -and flipping to the publishing information. 1986.

"Or we make the connection ourselves. Any ideas?"

rock & roll

EDEN

♡coded by uxie♡