Fantasy The Case of Lockheed Orphanage for the Supernaturally Gifted

[mizton]

1926

adelaide furse

locations

Breakfast Hall > Telegraph room lmao

interactions

Charlotte, Professor, Edgar, Uriel, Doris, & Arthur

mentions

Charlotte, Annai, Abigail, Makoto, Uriel, Edgar, Professor, Doris, Arthur

So Annai'd not been there when Charlotte woke, Adelaide mused. That was hardly surprising, though, with the brunette's recent sleeping habits, were yesterday anything to go off of. It didn't surprise the maid at all to hear the absence of Charlotte's roommates that morning. The breakfast hall, however... That was a different story; one of truth in Charlotte's claim that Annai was hardly late. Well, that was hardly cause for concern. Just that morning she thought herself adept, yet here her finger ached in her pocket.

Her suspicions confirmed, Adelaide sat idly at Charlotte's protest. Her eyes might've watched her, but her mind was elsewhere, tuning back in only towards the end. Yes, for a time, she'd wandered back to her days behind a library counter, victim to the snapping of exasperated borrowers. She was just about Charlotte's age back then, much too shy to manage even a quarter of the girl's raving. It was... well, an odd feeling swelled behind her collar. Twice her age & with a quarter of her self-assurance even then, the corners of Adelaide's thin lips fell at her own helplessness. What more could be said? She'd told her she'd see to it in a moment. After four years, she'd learned there's no arguing when the children fixated their minds on whatever ailed them; such a thing was more that war dog's specialty. Hers was linens; embroidery on lighter days.

Abigail'd been hospitalized, Adelaide itched to interject, to the distaste of Colette's dragging chair with the way it screeched. The sound halted any attempt to placate the concerns Charlotte wrought into the room. The chatter, already more grim & hushed than usual, dulled to a stall in heavy air. A guiltless gulp stuttered in her throat. Without a word or utterance from that downturned mouth, Adelaide's eyes followed the girls' heels until the door swung for a last time. Chatter delayed still. Adelaide sighed in her way: without motion or sound, but in the way grey eyes lingered at cooling platters abandoned at their seats.

No, no matter, thought she, she'd hear of it during classes, surely. Yes, there was hardly opportunity for such thoughts to endure much longer. The way gossip spread in a manor of children, Charlotte would know enough of Abigail's status to tell even Annai, when she'd turn up. That'd have to do.

When the door swung once more to announce the entrance of the spitting image of a barbered Claus, Adelaide's sigh then expelled the way that she straightened herself up to listen.

Edgar rose like a dog commanded; the sound of his seat scuffing at the floorboards enough to minutely startle Adelaide. The sight of him reminded Adelaide of an overgrown youth; a bit too unsure of himself, much to her distaste. Whenever possible, she tended to elect other help besides his. Toward The Professor, she gave no audible reply—the way she tended to—but a nod with that dark gaze of hers; her distaste barely apparent at her brow. When the bearded man left did that furrow deepen as she turned to the other half of the charged.

"Edgar," she nearly whispered when The Professor had turned his back to take leave. With a beckoning jerk of her chin, she called again, "Here, boy."
When he'd come over to bend an ear, she told him behind a palm, "Either entrust me this or go yourself. Leaving Uriel here alone while everyone's gone is just ridiculous." Any attempt to rebuttal that Doris was there too was dismissed vehemently with a wave of that wrist. "See you the state she's in? I won't tell you twice, alright? Now make up your mind." Their conversation was kept rather hushed, where only Doris & those seated beside her might've heard.

“I—" started Edgar, bringing the blonde out of her thoughts, with wavering voice, "but the Professor ordered us to go together.” He looked back at Uriel, unsure of what to do. “I… don’t know.”

“Go, Edgar. I’ll be fine," Uriel responded with a face of courage that barely rivaled a rabbit's; her concern was apparent. Adelaide's face fell flat at the sight. Just where was this newfound general air of apprehension coming from, lately? First this, then Arthur's comment of Abigail's calling, & then the overall mood of the orphanage; it was all not too dissimilar to a joke Adelaide wasn't being let in on. Here she thought it'd been a one-off lapse in the day prior, but it seemed like it'd hang in the air for as long as it took for Adelaide to realize its source.

"God, think for yourself," said she at Edgar in her rising frustration. A useless comment, her mind chided, at which she stiffened; like a mending afterthought, she apologetically added, "No, never mind. You both mind the hall; I've needed to be off"—she brought out the hand she'd been keeping in her apron's pocket—"as it happens. I'll see the bedrooms on my way back."

Her posture straightened with her mind made up. "See to it no one else leaves. 'Bout a quarter of the children remain; not a task too grand, hm? God"—she spoke to herself as she made her leave—"what goads their readiness to neglect meals, I should never know." & what possesses such a doting brother to leave his sister's side, Adelaide too wondered. Her brows again creased at the floor boards between hall & hallway as she lingered at the door, before remembering herself. The message. Right.

code by @Nano

 

[housegoat13]

CARETAKER

Character Sheet

Oddity

Injury Transfer

Location

Hallway Near Guest Bedrooms ---> Kitchen ---> Library

Interactions

The Professor, Robert

Tags

Coyote

Jasper Cummings

Jasper clamped his teeth down in annoyance. Frida hadn’t answered him yet and he felt rather foolish standing in the hallway alone. Far be it for him to disturb the girl’s rest with a generous offer he supposed, oh how heinous he was.

He debated drawing his keys anyways, if only to assure she was aware of her condemnation.

The notions of retribution were short-lived when he felt another presence at the end of the hall and his attention arose to The Professor.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement at the older man, “Yes, of course,” came the easy reply. He offered the door a sparing glance before leaving the girl alone. He hoped the others would come up with a plan for Frida before lunch, he refused to be her jailer longer than was necessary.

The task ahead was full of perplexities, a guest, and for him of all people. He assumed a government official requested his presence, but the reasoning as to why escaped him. He doubted his guest was here to praise him for his hard work, nor to ask for some light company.


Relief loosened his hand as he set the plate onto the kitchen counter with a flimsy shake of his wrist. A slow dread began to creep his body, and Jasper possessed an irritation towards his disobedient heart.

He felt wasteful staring down at the food before him, and his stomach growled in response to his foolhardiness. But it would be imbecilic of him to linger on his growing hunger when someone was actively awaiting him, and so with an excusatory huff he exited the room once more.


He glanced up at the expectant doorway and his breath fled as his eyes settled on a familiar face, anticipating that even a wayward breeze would vaporize the mirage in front of him.

Robert.

'And what would you say if I did?' his brother laughed, giving Jasper a playful shove. Robert's smile warmed him, and he found himself matching the joy with ease.

Jasper’s limp hand retreated into itself as the silence crackled. His respite ruptured and from the fractures leaked a nauseating sap. A serpent twisted around his heart, glimmering scales crushing his lungs until his chest burned. Its jagged tongue flickered in sardonic laughter.

“Robert?" He took a traitorous step forward, the inhalation feeling more like a dagger than relief.

‘You don’t have to go-’ Jasper whispered, the boy giving an anxious tug on a dark lock of hair.

‘And do what? Flee the country in the middle of a war?’ Robert scorned.

His body moved without consent; each step demanded haste and raced him against his last.

A train whistle gave an unyielding screech- a harsh signal for his brother to leave him.

‘Don’t die on me, ok?’ Jasper attempted a weak smile, feeling small against the chuffing beast of metal.

‘As if I’m capable of dying.’ Robert grinned, ruffling his hair.

If he reached, he could almost touch him.

A sickening note thrown against wood as panicked breathing compacted his body.

Jasper tugged Robert into an embrace. His wrist shrieked at the sudden assault and harsh pressure ripped open his cuts. His blood seemed to blend with his teenage counterpart’s, his heart begging for any flicker of warmth that could be granted for his wretched soul.

“I’m sorry-” He whispered, his Adam’s apple yielding a laborious bob as his fingers dug for purchase against the stiff coat, “I’m- I’m so sorry.”

coded by natasha.

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

Ethel backed away very slowly, and suddenly had a bright idea. She turned on her oddity for a reason other than negative emotions. She knew about the portrait, about the honing device type thingy her oddity had. She hoped she was going towards the portrait, if that was how it worked. She was praying internally, hoping her plan would work..
Of course, the eyeballs rolled into the back of her head, and Ethel seemed spaced out. She took a step. And then another. He had no idea where the hell she was going. She didn't think about the knife anymore, or about Makoto's odd behavior. She had no more fear. She didn't feel quite in control, either. Ethel's consciousness was just not there at all. She was going to the owner. It might kill her. But, her journals would live on.


pings: Kovacs , Coyote

 

[Sunsmiter]

Ozymandias
Location: Breakfast -> Hall -> Bathroom
Interactions: Oliver, Charlotte
Mentions: Annai, Gwyn, Cole, Charlotte, Oliver, Raven
​

​

Ozymandias frowned slightly, noting the curious developments. It had seemed…off, and he had been too tired to care. But the knowledge of Annai’s absence gnawed at the back of his mind, and suddenly his eggs seemed a dozen times less appealing already. Breakfast had passed in some form of haze for him, yet his attention was filing away the incidents one by one as he pondered.

Annai’s disappearance. Frida’s breakdown. Cole’s injuries.

Oz shook his head, dismissing the memories. Keep positive, he’s sure it’s nothing serious right…? The orphan internally sighed, poking around for a few moments before pushing his plate away. Perhaps he really should have gotten more sleep last night. Either way, the commotion was far more interesting than breakfast…

Stepping back from the breakfast table, Oz politely dismissed himself and strode out in the hallway, idly assuming that after a break and some naptime he would feel much better. On the other hand, he was curious as to see what was so interesting that Cole and Oliver had rushed out to meet it. “Hey, guys? Everything alright?”

He was really hoping that he wouldn’t have to fix the bathroom door again.

//OOC. sorry for being afk, my arm bone may or may not have healed wrong and it hurt extra for a few days. Gonna get it checked out soon, so that's nice.

 

[Coyote]

Robert stood, stunned for moment. With everything he's been through, his journey thus far, how could he refuse his brother here? So, he pulled him tight. Like someone scared to let go, for fear of losing that which he's grasped for the first time in far too long.

"I've missed you, Jasper," he whispered. Robert held his breath for a moment. They hadn't much time. Soon, the soldiers would arrive. Robert held Jasper even tighter, bringing his hand up to the man's head and clutching it with commanding strength. "I'm here to break you out. I'm here to free you from the Hummingbirds. Just follow my lead," he said, letting Jasper go and turning towards the gentlemen before him.

"Could we have a bit of privacy?" Robert spoke directly towards the Professor.

The grizzled man stared at him for a moment, then at Jasper. It wasn't that he trusted Robert's intentions, but rather, that he believed in Jasper's capabilities in handling the guest. At least, that's what he wanted to say but alas, there is too much he did not know about the current circumstances.

"I'm afraid not."

Robert clenched his jaw. An uneasy silence passed between them before finally, he relented.

"Very well. I suppose I will take my leave for now," Robert patted Jasper and shook his hand tightly before making for the exit.

"Leaving so soon?" the Professor asked.

"I will be in town for a few days. I know visits like this are irregular so I would prefer to leave it up to Jasper to make his choice about the time he spends here," Robert replied.

"Jasper is valued Caretaker and an esteemed gentleman. Something you wouldn't know the first thing about," the Professor said.

At this point, his back was turned to Jasper, something Robert hoped would happen. He glanced at Jasper for a moment then back at the Professor to continue their conversation.

In Jasper's hand, however, was a crumpled slip of...newspaper.

March 23rd, 1920

Murderers Still At Large! Investigators Begin Calling Case the Hummingbird Murders

It was a brisk morning in Picadilly Station, Manchester when police were notified of a public disturbance between a man and a woman. The horrors that ensued would prove to be the latest in a string of murders officials have dubbed the Hummingbird murders. Following the catastrophe at Lockheed orphanage and Durham, the site has become something of a pilgrimage site for the violent and insane. January 30th, Jasper Cummings was boarding a train north in Picadilly Station when he was stopped by his sister, Lillian Cummings, who, according to witnesses, seemed frantic and fearful. Due to her deafness, she was accompanied by a Robert Cummings who joined her in attempting to stop Jasper from boarding the train by force. Witness accounts describe the suspect as unresponsive and apathetic to the please of his kin. The altercation became physical when Lillian attempted to forcibly pull Jasper away from the train tracks. The suspect responded by grabbing his sister by the neck and throwing her onto the tracks. Knocked unconscious, Robert was too late to save her from the incoming train. The suspect quickly fled the scene and has not been seen since. According to the account of Robert Cummings...
​

The page stops there, torn from the larger paper with a folded corner. Upon turning it around, Jasper would read Robert's writing in a brief message that stated simply, "Why?"

Robert was staring at Jasper now, burning into him with a quiet fury. His brother was not a murderer. They did something to him. Something sick. Jasper was sick. Robert intended to break his brother from this hell if it meant putting a bullet in everyone that stood in his way.

"Then perhaps it is best you leave, Mr. Cummings," the Professor said finally.

"A shame our conversation was fruitless," Robert agreed.

"Walk him out of the door, Makoto and Jasper," the Professor said, turning and walking towards the telegram room where he he hoped to find Adelaide and Edgar.

Kovacs housegoat13 mizton

 

[Kovacs]

Makoto Madiyarov

Caretaker

Location

the library

Tags

Jasper Cummings

housegoat13

Matteo Solinas

AmberV

Robert Cummings (NPC)

Coyote

Were it not for the tang of musk and general unkemptness lingering to where Makoto stood stony-faced, the sight of two brothers reuniting would have pulled even at his heartstrings, tight and hamfisted as they were. The war had scattered such pure displays of emotion too few and far in between, after all. Overshadowed by the rim of his cap, he threw a curious sidelong eye towards Mr. Solinas, whom he hadn't seen since early that morning setting the breakfast table, wondering what thoughts prowled the older man's mind. Not that there was much chance it would show on his weathered face; the man was a force of nature when it came to their late night poker games.

On the other hand, stirred by the sight of his older brother, the youngest caretaker in the room seemed seized by both parts relief and remorse. An odd recipe to be sure, yet watching the cake rise to such an occasion was enough for a sliver of softness to swell along the ridge of his lip. Having near forgotten their guard, Makoto's feet shuffled to follow after their esteemed guest, stopped only by a chance glance. Some queer meander from the man's rightside pocket, journeying into Jasper's palm and eye. If he had blinked, he would have surely missed it.

Instead, it reignited that signature spark of suspicion, corralling towards the coat his instincts tugged at earlier. If he had gone through the proper channels getting here, an agent would have most likely patted him down and been by his side at the door. But in his mind, he'd come to understand most agents associated with Lockheed were all broken clocks in some way; the worst offender being Greens. Makoto glanced at Jasper. Did he feel anything while embracing? Little in his features at that moment told so; nevertheless, Makoto was not a man to brush off the intuition of the gods.

"Matte, matte."

The Professor was gone, and so was the foreign caretaker's courteous nod seeing him off. Apple core tossed and knife slipped back into his pocket, Makoto's hand appeared to stop his fellow veteran in his tracks.

"It is not unusual," he started coolly, "for early-morning patdowns at the gate to miss a thing or two. I am sure you will oblige to a second one before we walk back, Mr. Cummings?"

CODE BY SEROBLISS / VALOROUS ORDER

 

[housegoat13]

CARETAKER

Character Sheet

Oddity

Injury Transfer

Location

Library

Interactions

Robert, Makoto

Tags

Kovacs

Jasper Cummings

Jasper swallowed against an unprecedented noise, quick and bubbly. Robert’s stench finally caught up to him and his uneasy stomach lurched. He dug his fingers into the coat, pulling his brother closer. A solid object stabbed his hip, and after a moment he shifted his weight away. He gave a small nod, a permission that Robert never needed. He felt cool dread wash over his shoulders, knowing the weapon was earned for the grief he’s caused.

Despite his desperate yearning to hear Robert reassure him of his value, the phrase hung awkwardly around Jasper’s head, not quite knowing its purpose, and fearing the answer. He wasn’t supposed to be missed, not in the way he selfishly wanted. Robert always understood as much...

The sudden grip on his head overwhelmed his senses, and Jasper half-expected his neck to snap at the hold.

The metallic taste of copper flooded his mouth as a large hand shoved his head into the ground, knocking his jaw back and forcing him to stare up at the blazing sun. He gasped as his chest rose and fell in a frenzied panic, ‘Please-’ he choked. Grit scraped against his flesh as the full weight of his attacker pinned him against the ground. Jasper rushed trembling palms to clutch the hand that squeezed his cheek, as tears dripped down the sides of his face. He fixated on the waiting fist with wide eyes soaked in deafening fear. ‘I didn’-!’ a burst of agony mangled the rest of his words.

“-follow my lead.”

Uncertainty pursued him like a lion as Robert relinquished his hold. He felt barren in the room, the people around him felt more like odd strangers than allies. A familiar anxiety pulsed through his skin, and a part of him questioned if he had ever felt confident. Hadn’t his chest always felt heavy with shifting adrenaline?

“Can we have a bit of privacy?”

His heart picked up pace as he attempted to dissect Robert’s mannerisms, noting the subtle twitch of his mouth, and the small falter of his eye. But even if his brother’s quirks were genuine, the clues leading to Robert’s true intentions were trivial at best. Jasper picked at his skin in discontent, and after a moment, he attempted to meet Makoto’s eyes in a silent ask. A hope that his friend wouldn’t go far. His luckless aim caused guilt to swarm his head. He dropped his head to stare at the floor after he realized the extent of his thoughts. How long had he remained complacent while his brother searched for him?

The Professor refused Robert, and a deep-seeded relief flooded Jasper. The quick feeling was smothered like a boot to a dying fire when he realized Robert’s response. His brother was abandoning him. No, not now. The callous pat on his back jolted him out of his head as he quickly lifted his eyes to find Robert’s.

You’re not leaving, don’t say you’ll go.

Robert remained blinded to Jasper's insistence, and Jasper nearly scoffed as his brother graced him with an unfeeling handshake. But what ornamented the open space between their hands made him hesitate, and Jasper directed another furrowed look to Robert as the outline of paper dug into his palm. His brother let go of him and the slip remained concealed in Jasper’s hand, one last corpse it seemed. Curiosity bit at him, nudging his hand to finger the paper as he questioned why Robert went through all the trouble to give it so discreetly.

He met Robert’s glance, and understanding dawned on him as he took a preliminary glimpse of the rest of the room. Once he was sure Mateo and Makoto were distracted by The Professor's conversation, he gingerly unfolded the parchment, and to his dismay, the action coaxed a harsher ache from his wrist.

His eyes narrowed in careful regard as the headline drew him in and he followed the page, stopping when he spotted his name. He glanced up at the date, 1920, and then continued. Each word filled with faux encouragement, intriguing him until he noticed the mention of Lillian and his jaw tensed. The suspect responded by grabbing his sister, his hands tightened reflexively around the paper, crinkling the edges. He read on as each word ignited an aggressive flame that burned with vigor, only pausing when the clipping implied Lillian’s murder. It demanded all his self-control to not thoroughly shred the slip in rage.

The considerable risk of unwelcome noise eased him into a gradual simmer, and he softly turned the paper. He sought an alternative to the nightmarish article, and as he read Robert’s simplistic question, it took everything in him not to crumple the parchment where he stood. He took a deep breath, feeling Robert’s gaze press into him, and he firmly urged himself to calm down. He creased the slip, and carefully tucked the paper into the bottom of his satchel.

“Makoto!” Jasper interrupted tersely, tugging at the strap of his satchel with a tight fist and moving closer to the pair. He rested on the man’s yellow irises with a strange ferocity as he lowered his voice. His drawl rigid with an uncharacteristic tensity as he made sure not to alert The Professor. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

coded by natasha.

 

[CeaserXIX]

Quinn

As the boy sat at the table, his only reliable eye scanning over every insignificant detail of the dining room, sucking in the others present around him, noting the lack of Frida's presence, the unusual and obvious silence of the morning seeming to sit poorly with him. He had heard bits and pieces of the previous day's events that had occurred in his absence, and only now was he fully seeing the results of Frida's meltdown, a part of him blaming himself for not being there to put himself between everyone and Frida, having silently made an oath to himself that he'd ensure everyone within this cursed building's confines would never come to any genuine harm, and yet his childish curiosity led him to abandon his post. But that, at the current moment, was the least of Quinn's true concerns, the tight feeling pressing against his left eye, causing the boy a certain degree of pain and anxiety, pulling his handcrafted hood over his face further, in a desperate attempt to sink deeper and deeper into the calming darkness the hood created for his gaze, holding back the screaming urge to scratch and tear at the stone like shard over his eye, the sensations burning into him like a disgusting virus.

"What is it?" "Why is it here?" "How did it come to be?" "Tear it off!" "No, let it be." "Play not with that you don't understand ." The echo of the shadowy voices seemed to mock and tease the already mentally vulnerable teenager,
causing the already irate and jittery boy to only grow more and more anxious, his right eye scanning around once more as if seeking the location of the haunting whispers, like willow wisp, constantly tormenting the boy. Only recently did they truly kick up, but as the recent events began, the whispers seemed to progress into a chorus of vile jeering, causing his mind to seemingly shake within his skull, manifesting into a growing volatile and short-fused rage, though he did as he always has, bottling it deep within himself, ignoring the clawing and crying it seemed to commit to, begging and pleading to be released from the cage of trauma and agony the boy had endured, wanting to make itself known to all present within the room.

With each passing second, Quinn could feel the gazes of the others occasionally pass over him, only feeding into these burning feelings he could feel in his very core. "Stop looking at me...", he seemed to softly whisper to himself, the whispering now growing more and more prevalent, as if coming from within his very being, like a part, or parts of him were forcing their way through, demanding they be heard and listened to. As this continued, Quinn gritted and ground his teeth, in a vain attempt to stifle and silence everything around him. Without noticing anything, Quinn seemed to fade into his own world, losing track of time as he fought off the echoing noises bouncing inside his head.

Even now, the plate of food in front of Quinn remained untouched by the boy, the lack of an appetite was strange for him, as he almost always ate his food. Yet here he was, refusing to eat, his mind focused on drowning everything out, drowning out all that tried to torment him. His head hanging low, the sounds became overwhelming. The whispers, the sounds of everyone talking and chewing and gulping and- and he seemed, just for a moment, to snap, his one good eye raising itself from underneath his hood, pupil dilating unusually, like that of a rabid beast, rage filling him as his eye slowly scanned over everything, noting how some of the caretakers were missing, no longer present within the confines of the dining hall. Where had they gone, he had at first curiously wondered. Then his gaze slowly traced along the other children, eyelid twitching as he looked over everyone, though he had barely noticed that anyone was present, as if in a conscious, yet lucid daydream.

"Why won't they be silent?" "They eat like pigs." "Have they no manners?" "By the Gods, the chewing!!!" "Make it stop...make it stop...MAKE IT STOP!!!!" The whispering evolved into a choir, then a deafening roar, and then, he acted. His hand flew up to his plate of food, gripping it with a death grip, the edge of it cracking as he did. Thoughts flowing through his mind, of silence, of the damned whispers, of...them. With newfound rage burning within him, Quinn stood himself up on his injured ankle, ignoring the pain that burned up his leg, and in an act of vicious fury, flung his plate as far as he could, the echoing sound of shattering glass filling the dining hall, lifting the crutch over his head, and began to slam it violently against the table, an act so uncharacteristic of the boy, that it scared him, yet he continued with his rampage, managing to crack his growth, before flinging it aside as well, slamming his knuckles into the table, before bellowing out a ferocious, "WOULD YOU ALL PLEASE SHUT. THE. FOCK. UPPPPPPP!!!!!!!" As he roared out his demands, he slammed his knuckles violently into the table, causing it to shake, splitting the skin, feeling more bone than flesh slam against the solid wood. Whatever had occurred the evening before, regardless of who knew, it was quite clear, it had done something...terrifying to the usually peaceful and kind boy.

After letting out his echoing cry, his head snapped back up, the movement of his head flinging his hood off of his head, the now black crystalline mass over his eye visible to all, before the sensation rushed back into him, that burning sensation within his eye, as if something begged for release, making the boy's skin crawl. Grabbing his crutch once more, he took off racing out of the dining hall, making a quick beeline to the nearest restroom, ignoring and pushing any who stood in his way, sure he'd be pursued by the caretakers. 'Well, let them,' he thought silently to himself, or at least he hoped to himself, as he slammed the door shut behind him, putting the barely usable crutch underneath the doorknob, positioning it to barricade the door, before turning towards the mirror, moving his hair out of the way of the hideous thing pressing against its eye, now gazing at it in all its disgusting glory, the light shining off the jagged, layered, rocky surface of whatever this was, the sight of the glistening black, glass-like shell filling the boy with more fury than ever, as he began trying anything to get it off, pressing, cutting, and prying at it with almost everything he could wrap his palm around, yet nothing seemed to work, leaving him with one, disturbing, and fear-inducing choice, staring down at his hands, watching as he began to tremble, yet be it fury or fear, he did not know, but he knew, he had one thing left to do, as he slowly raised his hands towards the edges of this mass, taking whatever edge he could grip, and before long, only one noise echoed out from the bathroom, one that could haunt even the most mighty of people.

A bloody, pain-filled, animalistic scream of burning pain and agony, the sound only an endangered animal...or a dying child would make.

Mentions: N/A​

 

[Coyote]

Robert stopped at the foyer. It was not uncommon, the foreigner said. He clenched his jaw to avoid scoffing at his remarks. Instead, he turned to stare at Makoto's hand for a moment before sliding it off his shoulder. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Jasper acted. It was a rare moment of initiative for him, but a fortunate one. How much had he changed? There was... simply too much to discuss and not enough time. Now, however, there was a lucky disagreement between two equally ranked individuals within the orphanage. Robert could see that much and it caused the ends of his lips to curl slightly. "Well, I don't know that can give my consent if you cannot come to a consensus about the right course of action. I think I will argue for my right to privacy at this time," he said, attempting to place Makoto into a corner. It was a rare moment for him too. Letting Jasper take point on anything stoked a brotherly fire in him but he stayed his hand for now. There was information he needed to gather and if he learned anything from his time at war, it was that those who took the first step were the most likely to take a fatal one.

Meanwhile, the breakfast hall remained deathly quiet. A heavy uneasiness settled into the room and Uriel and Edgar stood watching over the children as best they could. Many of them were missing but... "I think we should look for them," Uriel said, tapping her feet rapidly in a vain attempt to let loose some of her anxieties.

"I know how you feel but the Professor told us to-" Just then, Quinn broke out into a panic attack. Stunned, the two watched as Quinn bolted out of the room. Uriel immediately started after him.

"Quinn! It's too dangerous, you need to stay here!" she cried out. Edgar, with nothing but crutches was unable to keep up. It was when Uriel stumbled into the scene in the Foyer. She looked around for signs of the departed Quinn but the bathroom door was locked and she was still hearing his rapid footfalls. Uriel bit down on her tongue and gripped her dress tightly. Her heart was beating so fast and her breath was ragged to the point she thought she might faint. But as her eyes set themselves upon the scene in the foyer between the other Caretakers, she froze. Her gaze settled on Robert. A moment of quiet passed and her lip quivered.

"You..."

As if struck by lightning, Robert stopped upon hearing Uriel's voice. He turned to face her and his expression went slack, paling at the sight of her.

"You..."

The air in the room seemed to tremble and a new set of eyes have decided to begin watching. To the Caretakers, the paint on the Owner's portrait will appear to bleed. She is watching... intently...

A wave of nausea washes over Uriel and she nearly collapses, instead leaning against a nearby wall. She brings a hand up to her head and winces in pain. "O-ow..."

CeaserXIX housegoat13 Kovacs

Nearby: mizton (under the stairs in the foyer without the telegraph)

 

[aurivee_]

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Annai Mestra

LOCATION: Side of the Main Road
INTERACTIONS: Georgie Coyote
MENTIONS: Various (all indirect)

They were completely silent for a few minutes as they waited. The previous conversation was weighing heavily on Annai’s already disturbed mind, and she was certain Georgie was experiencing similar feelings. It had been a hard topic for them both.

How long had it been? Every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour. She was growing deeply restless - she couldn’t stand the waiting, the thought that they were sitting around and doing nothing.

It was tempting to just get up and go. That man was dangerous. She was angry with the orphanage and several of the people within it, but there were - though she’d never admit it - people she cared about in there. Was cared the right word? She didn’t know anymore.

You didn’t care enough to stay, the voice in her head nagged.

…Regardless. No one deserved to feel that kind of fear.

She’d felt it all too many times. During her time alone, a part time job simply wasn’t enough. There were some periods where she skipped meals just to get by. Sometimes, she even went hungry for a day or two. In her desperation to keep up appearances, she turned to less savory sources of income.

Petty theft was the most of it. She had limited control over her oddity at the time, but it was a helpful distraction in a pinch. She never did anything truly reprehensible - she only took what she needed, which she felt was justified enough - but on occasion, even the small crimes that she committed ended up angering the wrong people. This, unfortunately, would often lead to her staring down the barrel of a pistol or the sharp, glimmering tip of a knife.

It wasn’t something that she could ever get used to. One of the only bits of solace she’d found when she came to Lockheed was the promise of an escape from that life.

I should have known it wouldn’t last.

It was her mistake.

She wanted to go and do… something. She didn’t know what, but sitting idly by was almost physically painful. Even so, she was held back by her fear.

He scared her. He was so clearly desperate, and that was terrifying. She didn’t doubt that he would have shot her if she’d been even slightly slower to act.

What had he wanted from her? What did he want at Lockheed? What would have happened if she’d complied? She’d almost been tempted to, for just a brief moment - to lower her head, shrink into herself, and place her fate into the man’s waiting hands.

The idea of anyone controlling her like that was what drove her to flee. Her fate was no one’s but hers to decide.

Time ticked by. They continued to wait in silence. She’d seen the oxymoronic expression of deafening silence in books several times before, but she’d never understood what it meant until now.

That silence was soon broken by the sound of vehicles coming down the road. Lots of them.

Immediately, she darted out of sight, obscuring herself from view behind a large bush. It was thick enough to prevent onlookers from noticing her, but she could still make out some of what was happening on the other side.

She’d never seen so many guns in her life. A motorcade of trucks sped down the road, each carrying fully equipped soldiers. She counted about ten trucks in total. If they noticed the pair, they didn’t show it - as they passed on without so much as slowing down.

They’d been heading towards Lockheed. As far as she knew, there was nowhere out here they could be going. Why would an armed procession be going to the orphanage?

Her thoughts drifted to the strange man again. Was that the reason? Just who was he?

“Soldiers? But why?” she mused aloud, her voice just audible enough to be heard.

“They’re not just worried about that man. There are things in the orphanage that ought not be let out too,” Georgie muttered. “That includes us…”

His wording confused Annai. “What do you mean? What else are they trying to keep there? I don’t understand.”

The boy regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You know how the stairs always stop before you can reach the end of them?”

The sound of creaking wood caught her attention. Startled, she looked for its source, only for her eyes to catch movement on the tree next to them. Not on - in. There was a small hole forming in the tree, the wood bending and cracking in its wake.

“There’s a way to walk up those stairs. But it’s not about the how. It’s about the when.” Looking down at the hole, he smiled. “Thank you, Villid. Meet Annai! She’ll be helping us from now on!”

Who the hell was he talking to? Weren't they alone?

She opened her mouth to inquire as to who Villid was, before something came out of the hole and the words died in her chest.

One. Two. Four. Eight. Over a dozen.

Fingers emerging from the hole, far more than a hand should have.

–

Her hands flew to her mouth to mute her choked scream, as she recoiled back from the tree.

She should have known. Georgie had made several comments that pointed towards knowledge alien to her. Supportive and helpful and yet conveniently vague. She should have questioned him more, pressed him further. And yet, she’d held herself back. She’d wanted to believe that it was okay, that everything was (relatively) normal, that-

“I- I don’t-”

(There are none so blind as those unwilling to see.)

Her pulse felt like the beating of a drum upon her chest, and her breaths became rapid and shallow. Desperately, she looked for somewhere to slip away, to escape this thing -

-why wasn’t it doing anything?

“-what?” she whispered, a breathy and nearly inaudible question to no one in particular.

It hadn’t come any further out of the tree. One finger, longer and bent in odd directions, stretched out and moved back and forth in her direction, in some mimicry of a wave.

It looked almost…. friendly?

This didn’t make any sense. Why didn’t it make sense?

Her own hands came up to her head, her fingers pressing into her temples in an effort to stabilize herself somewhat.

“W-who is…” Her voice trailed, unable to finish the question.

Four in. Hold for four. Eight out.

Four in. Hold for four. Eight out.

Gradually, her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to a normal - albeit shaken - sound. Her hands dropped to her sides as she finally looked away from the - thing, her eyes falling to the ground.

“I - I’m sorry. This is.. it’s a lot.” Her shoulders lowered with the admission, settling from raised tension into a subdued slump.

Someone took her hand, and she looked up to see Georgie’s worried expression. “You’re right, maybe this was too fast,” he admitted.

He glanced back at the tree and Annai’s gaze followed. The hole had vanished, and the hand along with it. It was like it hadn’t been there at all.

But it had most definitely been real. The fear was real, and that was proof enough for her.

“You mentioned strange things happening in the orphanage, right?” His words caught her attention once more, and she looked back at him. “That’s because many of the people living in the orphanage aren’t people at all. The Owner is not human, and the people who follow her? The ones that live up the stairs? They aren’t either. They’re called Things.”

Well, that name was certainly on the nose, wasn’t it?

It was unbelievable, and it showed in her expression. “Things? I’m sorry, but this all-” Her words cut off suddenly, as a piece fell into place in her mind’s clouded eye.

The Orphanage wasn’t a normal place by any means. Within its walls were children who could bend the elements to their will and manipulate minds. She, too, was among them - an interloper that could trick the eye into seeing what wasn’t there. Having lived among these odd children, she’d almost forgotten that it was far from normal by the world’s standards.

“-makes sense,” she finished, a far cry from what she’d originally intended to say. It did make sense. If supernatural power existed, why couldn’t it manifest in other ways? Why couldn’t monsters - demons - Things - exist?

The corners of her mouth turned up, though there was no mirth in her eyes. “Of course we aren’t the only oddities there. Of course.”

There were now even more questions on her mind, and yet her mind drifted to one that had been there since the start of the madness. “That raven that I saw. The one that attacked my - my friend.” She hesitated to finish the sentence, unsure if she had the right to call them friends. It seemed awfully presumptuous. “Is that a Thing? And that - hand that just came out of the tree stump? And your friend that you were talking about earlier? Are all of those Things? How do you even know about all of this?” The questions spilled forth in one breath, the dam blocking her stream of consciousness broken.

Georgie chuckled for a moment. “Well.. I’ve been stuck here for a while. But that’s beside the point. Villid is a Thing, yes, but he is stuck here too. The Owner prevents him from leaving. Everything I know about Things and the orphanage comes from him.” He let go of her hand before continuing. “The raven… I’m not sure. He didn’t tell me about the raven, but that’s okay. I met him last night and struck a deal. I showed him the secret compartment under the stairs with a telegram and he ate it. In exchange, he’d bring me something from upstairs!”

There it was again. Evidently, there was something very wrong with the upper floors of the orphanage. She’d never thought to look at what was up there - she’d had no reason to - but now, she was curious. “Something from upstairs…? What did he give you?”

“Nothing yet, but I get the sense he’ll honor his promise,” Georgie replied. “We should head back soon. Want to come with me?”

A short while ago, her answer would have been a confident yes. Longer ago, it would have been an even more confident no. Now, she was unsure.

Of all the things she now knew about the orphanage, nothing scared her more than that man. As horrific as the Things she’d encountered were, they… hadn’t really hurt her.

Any wrong steps, and I put a hole in you. Understand?

He had tried. And he would have succeeded, had she not had the experience to think quick enough.

“What if that man is still there? Do you really think the Owner would just… get rid of him like that? Can we be certain?” It was almost a plea. The answer she wanted was crystal clear.

Georgie’s eyes were kind and understanding. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. All the more reason to stick together, right?”

It was reassuring. She had no idea how he could prevent her from being shot if it did come to that, but finally having someone on her side was refreshing. It felt good.

“I suppose you’re right. We can’t stay out here forever.” She glanced around, lowering her voice further. “Let’s go. I’ll be ready to make a distraction if we need it.”

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

She needed to get passed the door, but couldn't, because the two care-takers were still in the way. She had to go back into the dining room to alert some or all of the orphans. She was backing away from the caretakers, hoping that neither of them would come after her. As such, she was sprinting towards the doors that she had just came from. There were two cases that she could see.

Case A: She'd make it. She would open the doors, and try to find another tack. She'd need the orphans' help, and maybe the caretakers'.
Case B: She'd be punished, and she'd fail. That wasn't a preferable option.

Ethel let down her curly blondish brown hair and tied it back into a bun. There would be less hair for the two people at the door to yank. Her agility was pretty good in spite of her having a dress. She hadn't questioned why this was.
"Let me in!" Ethel shouted. She shouted as loudly as she could, which was very loud. She knew the door to the dining hall wasn't locked, she just wanted to get into the dining hall as fast as possible. She also didn't know how fast Makoto could run.