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Fantasy The Case of Lockheed Orphanage for the Supernaturally Gifted
Feral
Your local lackadaisical spirit
♡coded by uxie♡
housegoat13
The Unfathomable Umbrellabird
Today was not their finest work, but could you condemn a fisher for a faulty net? There was very little they could have done differently within the time they were given. He hoped Doris knew the same.Jasper found himself studying Olivia, searching for any abrasions. His eyes fell to her wrist, the skin was unnaturally flushed and started to gain a slight bulbous form. Hardened hands carefully brushed the girl's swollenness, and the caring gentleness of Makoto did not surprise Jasper. Olivia always seemed to hold a place within the male's heart, seeming to soften his lips whenever she was around. When Makoto draped his scarf over her, Jasper only hoped that Olivia knew that she was protected by a good man.
His eyes jerked up at being addressed, and he tugged his bag forward, reaching into the worn leather to double check for bandages. His hand anxiously fumbled over the material before pulling out the coarse fabric. Realizing that Makoto may have been waiting a very delayed response, Jasper answered with a simplistic "Okay," accepting the responsibility of caring for Olivia.
He inwardly groaned as Adelaide's voice grated against his skull. The woman was functional and that was the extent of his optimism. She was very action-oriented, and for that Jasper found himself commending her, however brash and idiotic some of her decisions were. She could be less noisy when she walks, Jasper thought irritably, she chatters like an incessant monkey. Alas, everyone always has a criticism for everything that does anything, and there wasn't very much you could do about Adelaide. Although, that was very little cause to stop him from silently mocking her as he kept up a pleasant exterior.
Jasper extended his sympathy towards Doris as she tried to interact with Adelaide. The relationship between the two women was certainly a difficult one, on account of the friendship being borderline non-existent. Seeing the interaction, or rather the lack thereof, saddened him. He hated to see Doris defeated in such a way. Truly, she was the most undeserving of all of them to receive Adelaide's temper.
When Doris turned to address Jasper and Olivia, he found himself appreciating the faith his co-workers put in him. A mutual trust in each other, and one he didn't take lightly. Upon Doris' leave, Jasper eyed Olivia, as if trying to find a solution to a particularly hard equation. "Do you actually want milk?" He finally asked.
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SavannahSmiles
му fαтє ιѕ υρ тσ мє, иσт тнє нєανєиѕ
dontPanic
New Member
“Ah, yes,” Hank muttered in response to Oz. “Let’s go.”
He made his way in the direction of the kitchen as Makoto had instructed, still mildly bewildered at the events that had transpired. From what he could gather, there was an emergency being investigated that involved some of the girls. It certainly put him on edge, but he preferred to not think too hard about it. Whatever was going on would probably blow over soon anyway. “So I hope. Say, has Abigail shown up yet? Surely her absence has nothing to do with this.”
Hank stopped in front of his room. “Please go on without me. I’ll catch up soon, I just need to fetch some of my belongings,” he told the other two boys before slipping through the door. That was only half true, of course. The first thing he did was plop down onto his bed. “What a strange morning,” he muttered, stripping off one of his gloves, savoring the brief nip of cold air. As he rested, he couldn’t help but think of some of the things that were said back in the hall. “So many things here shouldn’t be possible,” Hank mused, letting his other glove slide off on its own as if to prove the point. “How do I know it’s real? It feels real. I can feel the softness of the sheets…smell the mildew in the air…see the little specks of dust drifting about…it feels real, but even a madman thinks he knows reality.” He stopped for a moment as that last thought and its implications hung in the air.
“My oddity started showing up in 20’,” he recalled finally. “I reckon that’s when I would have gone mad. After she passed away.” He paused, anticipating the pang of emotion that would come when he thought about his sister. But as he lay there, watching little specks of dust drift in the sunlight, he knew that the pang wouldn’t come; it rarely did those days. He just felt the same. No, that wasn’t quite true—he felt frustrated. It was only because of his own lack of feeling, though. The agitation grew with every passing moment, and he began to mock himself. “I thanked the painting earlier, but what for? It makes no difference where I am. I live only to see the next day, and so it will be until the day I die!” He sprung to his feet, a manic glint showing in his eyes. “It’s a funny thing, really! It would not be so difficult, if I so wished, to slit my own throat as early as tonight! But I don’t… Why? Because I simply don’t want to die!”
Hank’s sudden burst of energy left him as quickly as it came, and in moments he was acting as if it hadn’t even happened. “It’s all fancy, of course… As for the question of whether or not any of this is real, I suppose it doesn’t really matter…Even if this truly has been one big fit of insanity, it changes nothing.” This thought was not satisfying; indeed, Hank found it quite frightening. However, he did admit that there was some comfort in acceptance. He got up and put his gloves back on; the cold no longer felt so refreshing. Finally, he took the items he had come for and, stowing them in his pocket, turned to leave.
Location: Bedroom
Sunsmiter
SavannahSmiles
He made his way in the direction of the kitchen as Makoto had instructed, still mildly bewildered at the events that had transpired. From what he could gather, there was an emergency being investigated that involved some of the girls. It certainly put him on edge, but he preferred to not think too hard about it. Whatever was going on would probably blow over soon anyway. “So I hope. Say, has Abigail shown up yet? Surely her absence has nothing to do with this.”
Hank stopped in front of his room. “Please go on without me. I’ll catch up soon, I just need to fetch some of my belongings,” he told the other two boys before slipping through the door. That was only half true, of course. The first thing he did was plop down onto his bed. “What a strange morning,” he muttered, stripping off one of his gloves, savoring the brief nip of cold air. As he rested, he couldn’t help but think of some of the things that were said back in the hall. “So many things here shouldn’t be possible,” Hank mused, letting his other glove slide off on its own as if to prove the point. “How do I know it’s real? It feels real. I can feel the softness of the sheets…smell the mildew in the air…see the little specks of dust drifting about…it feels real, but even a madman thinks he knows reality.” He stopped for a moment as that last thought and its implications hung in the air.
“My oddity started showing up in 20’,” he recalled finally. “I reckon that’s when I would have gone mad. After she passed away.” He paused, anticipating the pang of emotion that would come when he thought about his sister. But as he lay there, watching little specks of dust drift in the sunlight, he knew that the pang wouldn’t come; it rarely did those days. He just felt the same. No, that wasn’t quite true—he felt frustrated. It was only because of his own lack of feeling, though. The agitation grew with every passing moment, and he began to mock himself. “I thanked the painting earlier, but what for? It makes no difference where I am. I live only to see the next day, and so it will be until the day I die!” He sprung to his feet, a manic glint showing in his eyes. “It’s a funny thing, really! It would not be so difficult, if I so wished, to slit my own throat as early as tonight! But I don’t… Why? Because I simply don’t want to die!”
Hank’s sudden burst of energy left him as quickly as it came, and in moments he was acting as if it hadn’t even happened. “It’s all fancy, of course… As for the question of whether or not any of this is real, I suppose it doesn’t really matter…Even if this truly has been one big fit of insanity, it changes nothing.” This thought was not satisfying; indeed, Hank found it quite frightening. However, he did admit that there was some comfort in acceptance. He got up and put his gloves back on; the cold no longer felt so refreshing. Finally, he took the items he had come for and, stowing them in his pocket, turned to leave.
Location: Bedroom
Sunsmiter
SavannahSmiles
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Coyote
The Ferryman
"Well, I suppose that is how it goes, then," Arthur said. "These things take time, Professor, I wouldn't lose heart."
The Professor's bristles shifted with the exhale that escaped his lips. He pondered upon Arthur's words for a moment as they walked back up the trail towards the orphanage.
"How's Edgar?" he asked.
"Oh," the Professor scoffed, "Never seems to get it through his head he ought to keep watch, that one."
"Did something happen?"
"Yes," the Professor's brow knit together and his wrinkles dug deeper into his sour expression, "We lost one last night. Edgar informed me prior to your arrival."
"That's... I'm sorry to hear that," Arthur swallowed hard. He placed his hands into his pocket, tensing his jaw in a stony stare that seemed to look past the Professor.
"I had hoped since the disappearance of young Georgie I would not have to experience such a thing again," the orphanage was in view now. "Death never fails to remind us he exists when given the opportunity doesn't he," the Professor said, a tender whistle to his voice.
"I suppose not," Arthur pulled out a pack of cigarettes and, with trembling fingers, removed one from the box. He took care not to burn himself as he lit it and told himself it was only the cold that was causing him to shiver like so.
The Professor stopped just as the trucks were in sight, still out of earshot of anyone. Arthur did the same. "You cleared the forest already?"
"We did."
"No sign of the Church?"
"No."
"The Graveyard?"
"No. Gone since the night Georgie ran."
"The Owner has a bad habit of obscuring things," the Professor grumbled.
"I'll have my men patrol more frequently. We caught another one near the perimeter last week," Arthur took a long drag of his cigarette.
"So I've heard. Did you dispose of it?" the Professor turned towards Arthur with a grave look. "I will not have those Things hunting the children."
"You've nothing to worry about," Arthur lamented reaching the end of his cigarette and tossed it into the snow.
They stood beside each other for a while, listening to the birds sing and the wind howl along to their song.
"Why haven't you told any of the Caretakers? Mateo. Doris. Uriel. Edgar," he asked.
"They do not need to know anything."
"But they deserve the truth."
"We were given orders, Arthur," the Professor sighed, "Ethics have nothing to do with it."
Another long silence passed between them before Arthur started off towards the trucks by the storage. The Professor followed after. Adelaide was still among the men bringing the boxes in. Arthur barked angrily at some of his for letting a lady do physical labor but the Professor was content with simply watching her. Uriel was a good Caretaker. She assisted him with his studies of the children's oddities but Adelaide was his favorite. She was an honest worker with a sound mind and a strong heart. Reliable. Someone worth counting on. When screams and panic resounded from within the orphanage, the Professor excused himself and followed after Adelaide.
Upon setting his sights towards the scene that unfolded before him at the kitchen, the Professor pursed his lips. Amidst Adelaide's tirade, the Professor watched the others. It seemed the Caretakers had congregated in the kitchen that morning to discuss something. Edgar was among them and the guilty look on his face told him everything he needed to know about the subject that was being discussed. Abigail's disappearance was bound to be talked about eventually. What was more curious, however, was the apparent absence of Colette and Gwyneira. Well... concerning, at least. The Owner also left footprints in the area. A sure sign that the order had been disturbed. The Professor was a patient man but not more patient than the Owner wanted him to be.
"Alright," the Professor spoke up, addressing the mob in front of the bathroom. "Let's get the children to class. I assure you all, there is nothing to worry about. Last night, Abigail fell ill with a serious fever, so I called Arthur to come take her to a hospital where she can receive better treatment. Wherever Colette and Gwyneira ran off to, I'm sure it is nothing more than a prank. The Caretakers will go look for them and given them a strong talking to before sending them off to join you in morning classes."
He looked towards Doris. "You wouldn't mind taking over lessons for today, yes? Mateo can search for Colette and Gwyneira while the rest of you clean up after the children's breakfast. We've a long day ahead," the Professor stated with some finality, as if his word were the law. It was his job after all to oversee the Caretakers and Orphans that were entrusted to him. He failed twice already and Lord help him if he failed again.
"Oh, and Makoto," the Professor looked at him, "Would you come with me to my office? I wanted to discuss some things with you regarding Abigail's hospitalization." He started down the hall and towards the library without hesitation.
Paperface
AmberV
mizton
housegoat13
Kovacs
The Professor's bristles shifted with the exhale that escaped his lips. He pondered upon Arthur's words for a moment as they walked back up the trail towards the orphanage.
"How's Edgar?" he asked.
"Oh," the Professor scoffed, "Never seems to get it through his head he ought to keep watch, that one."
"Did something happen?"
"Yes," the Professor's brow knit together and his wrinkles dug deeper into his sour expression, "We lost one last night. Edgar informed me prior to your arrival."
"That's... I'm sorry to hear that," Arthur swallowed hard. He placed his hands into his pocket, tensing his jaw in a stony stare that seemed to look past the Professor.
"I had hoped since the disappearance of young Georgie I would not have to experience such a thing again," the orphanage was in view now. "Death never fails to remind us he exists when given the opportunity doesn't he," the Professor said, a tender whistle to his voice.
"I suppose not," Arthur pulled out a pack of cigarettes and, with trembling fingers, removed one from the box. He took care not to burn himself as he lit it and told himself it was only the cold that was causing him to shiver like so.
The Professor stopped just as the trucks were in sight, still out of earshot of anyone. Arthur did the same. "You cleared the forest already?"
"We did."
"No sign of the Church?"
"No."
"The Graveyard?"
"No. Gone since the night Georgie ran."
"The Owner has a bad habit of obscuring things," the Professor grumbled.
"I'll have my men patrol more frequently. We caught another one near the perimeter last week," Arthur took a long drag of his cigarette.
"So I've heard. Did you dispose of it?" the Professor turned towards Arthur with a grave look. "I will not have those Things hunting the children."
"You've nothing to worry about," Arthur lamented reaching the end of his cigarette and tossed it into the snow.
They stood beside each other for a while, listening to the birds sing and the wind howl along to their song.
"Why haven't you told any of the Caretakers? Mateo. Doris. Uriel. Edgar," he asked.
"They do not need to know anything."
"But they deserve the truth."
"We were given orders, Arthur," the Professor sighed, "Ethics have nothing to do with it."
Another long silence passed between them before Arthur started off towards the trucks by the storage. The Professor followed after. Adelaide was still among the men bringing the boxes in. Arthur barked angrily at some of his for letting a lady do physical labor but the Professor was content with simply watching her. Uriel was a good Caretaker. She assisted him with his studies of the children's oddities but Adelaide was his favorite. She was an honest worker with a sound mind and a strong heart. Reliable. Someone worth counting on. When screams and panic resounded from within the orphanage, the Professor excused himself and followed after Adelaide.
Upon setting his sights towards the scene that unfolded before him at the kitchen, the Professor pursed his lips. Amidst Adelaide's tirade, the Professor watched the others. It seemed the Caretakers had congregated in the kitchen that morning to discuss something. Edgar was among them and the guilty look on his face told him everything he needed to know about the subject that was being discussed. Abigail's disappearance was bound to be talked about eventually. What was more curious, however, was the apparent absence of Colette and Gwyneira. Well... concerning, at least. The Owner also left footprints in the area. A sure sign that the order had been disturbed. The Professor was a patient man but not more patient than the Owner wanted him to be.
"Alright," the Professor spoke up, addressing the mob in front of the bathroom. "Let's get the children to class. I assure you all, there is nothing to worry about. Last night, Abigail fell ill with a serious fever, so I called Arthur to come take her to a hospital where she can receive better treatment. Wherever Colette and Gwyneira ran off to, I'm sure it is nothing more than a prank. The Caretakers will go look for them and given them a strong talking to before sending them off to join you in morning classes."
He looked towards Doris. "You wouldn't mind taking over lessons for today, yes? Mateo can search for Colette and Gwyneira while the rest of you clean up after the children's breakfast. We've a long day ahead," the Professor stated with some finality, as if his word were the law. It was his job after all to oversee the Caretakers and Orphans that were entrusted to him. He failed twice already and Lord help him if he failed again.
"Oh, and Makoto," the Professor looked at him, "Would you come with me to my office? I wanted to discuss some things with you regarding Abigail's hospitalization." He started down the hall and towards the library without hesitation.
Paperface
AmberV
mizton
housegoat13
Kovacs
Sunsmiter
And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."
Ozymandias
Location: Towards class
Interactions: The Cat Also Known as Charles/Stinky/Rat/Mau/Fleur
Mentions: Hank
Location: Towards class
Interactions: The Cat Also Known as Charles/Stinky/Rat/Mau/Fleur
Mentions: Hank
Well, about that....
His oddity could sculpt time like clay, moving it back and forth as he pleased. Including objects, so long as they had been in light.
Would it work upon an evidence scene?
Yet even then(assuming he even could revert the scene briefly to when the incident transpired) what could he do? Politely demand the creature to leave? Scream really loudly for a caretaker?
Well...they might not even have been in light....
Oz was still fussing over this conundrum when he arrived next to his room. Looking down, the orphan absently opened the door and stepped in, depositing Aaru for a moment. It wouldn't be long and he had...something to pick up. "Dear gods. You would not believe what the hell happened today."
One might have thought he was just speaking to himself, but his question was soon answered by a small 'meow' from under the bed.
"...Mau? Did you hide under the bed again?"
Another soft meow. The Caretakers would give him hell if they found out he smuggled a goddamn cat into the orphanage(in his defense he found it outside wet and hungry and couldn't - wouldn't - leave it there). And besides, how could you refuse those adorable eyes?
"C'mon, it's been half a week! Or a week. Or maybe more? Anyways, I brought breakfast!"
At the mention of food a small white kitten with black markings gingerly shuffled from underneath Oz's unmade bed, its small tail swishing. Mau(very aptly named for a cat that makes 'mau' sounds, I know) sniffed the eggs Oz had somehow brought(listen time turning can be very useful at times when you wanna smuggle eggs), gave it a cat seal of approval, grabbed it, and decided to perch on the desk to eat.
"...you know I have to clean that up you know."
The cat, being a cat, does not care whether or not Oz has to clean up after it. Oz internally sighed, gave the cat a pat on the head, and left. He could always say he lost track of time for the delay. He might not know how long he could keep this a secret, but does it matter? No. If he had the chance, he would smuggle that poor kitten into the orphanage even if he had to live through twelve different timelines.
(we now have a cat)
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Sybela
Bear 🐻
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housegoat13
The Unfathomable Umbrellabird
Jasper was internally thankful that Olivia had refused the offer. The decline saved him the bother of getting a glass for her and watching as she hopelessly strained her injury even more.
His eyes followed the child as she shuffled to him, quickly looking over her wrist, and didn't bother to take her hand. “Yep, that’s a sprain,” he affirmed, before moving outward and away from the sink and Olivia. A few steps later and he turned to sit on the cold, hard floor. “Here, come sit with me,” he suggested, patting the ground in front of him.
While he waited for Olivia, he examined the bandages still in his left hand and glanced at the girl’s abrasion. Right, he silently noted the location of the injury, before starting to wrap his own right palm, and soon progressed to the corresponding wrist. He silently thanked god that he was left-handed, this would be a hell of an inconvenience if he wasn’t.
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AmberV
New Member
Mateo Solinas
The Professor's words were soft and absolute. There was rarely space to question him, even if Mateo had wanted to. When the Professor entered a conversation, people turned towards him without thinking. He drew the attention of the children and caretakers alike. After all, he was the Owner's emissary. Her presence was indirect and quiet, but he gave voice to her wishes on daily matters.
However, he couldn't help but think it strange that the Professor claimed Abigail had become ill. Mateo had been in and out of the orphanage throughout the night and not once did he see any sign of Arthur prior to the morning shipment, much less an ill child being whisked away by him in the dead of night. The implication of the lie sat cold and heavy in his gut. The Professor would only see fit to lie if he had reason to believe that something truly terrible had befallen Abigail. Something that he couldn't explain to the children. There were many things they couldn't explain to the children, so Mateo couldn't even hazard a guess as to what had happened, but none of those options were good ones.
Which made finding the other two, who the Professor had offered no lie for, all the more important. There was still a chance that they were off playing tricks or skipping out on lessons. If there was no need to lie yet, they might still be safe. It appeared time was of the essence.
Mateo glanced down towards Quinn and Frida, hesitating for only a moment before reaching down to give Quinn a short squeeze on the shoulder, "Alright chap, take Frida off to lessons now. I'll find Gwyn and Cole and send them along after you in no time." He pauses, rubbing his chin for a moment, "Oh, and tell Ozymandias to join me here after lessons. I'll need a hand repairing the door and it seems a bit more pressing than our previous arrangement."
He gave the Professor a small nod and Adelaide a small pat on the shoulder before sidling out of the bathroom and down the hall towards his room. The book took up the space where his lantern was usually secured and he had no intention of leaving either item out where any of the children might stumble across them. His quarters at least had a lock on the door.
Technically, it was a bedroom. There was even still a bed. He had never slept in it, though there were days where he sometimes still tried. Mostly, it remained unused, neatly made and shoved into the corner. Occasionally he would read in bed, but he often preferred the warmth of the library for such moments of relaxation. Instead, his room had taken on the function of a workroom. Tools neatly hung along one of the walls and a workbench, made from wood he'd scrounged from an old door and legs hewn from windfall trees, occupied the center of the room. Beneath the workbench was a trunk and he opened it up and dropped the book inside. It didn't have a lock, but he reckoned it didn't need one. It was filled with bits of tools and hardware that needed repair, loose hammer heads, broken brass door knobs, old bits of lead pipe, and scraps of copper. Hardly where one keeps books.
He sighed with relief as he returned the lantern to its bag. Nice and safe once more, where no roving fingers could reach.
Now, it was time to go find some children. He picked up a long overcoat from a hook beside his door and shrugged it on as he headed towards the foyer. The snow outside was a good place to start, as ruling out the woods left him with only the orphanage itself.
Location: Bathroom
Tags:
Coyote
CeaserXIX
Ghostiiys
mizton
Mention: Frida, Quinn, Adelaide, Gwyn, Cole, the Professor, Ozy
Feral
Your local lackadaisical spirit
♡coded by uxie♡
Ghostiiys
Member
Sunsmiter
And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."
Ozymandias
Location: Near classroom
Interactions: Frida, Quinn
Mentions: Hank, Olivia
Location: Near classroom
Interactions: Frida, Quinn
Mentions: Hank, Olivia
"Hi Frida, hi Quinn! Hank should be joining pretty soon. What's going on? I was told to sorta come here, so I did, and for some reason I heard Gwyn and Cole were missing and Hank just vanished to his room afterwards. Is Olivia okay?" Oz wasn't holding Aaru this time, but that didn't stop him from fiddling with the top of his jacket.
Ghostiiys
dontPanic
CeaserXIX
Ashy_OCdesigns
One Thousand Club
Ethel wanted to write down all the clues, so she suddenly rushed to her room, pulled out her journals that she had never finished, and began to copy down what she had heard(and wrote) word for word. This was unusual for Ethel, or at least until Ethel went to do something else and left her writing by the wall. She would go do something else, figuring nothing else was happening in the kitchen. She had no idea that it was supposed to be class, nor did she really care. What Ethel wanted to do was read and get lost in a book.
So, that's exactly where Ethel went, and once the caretakers found out she was skipping class, she'd be in deep water. She had no idea what time it was, which had often caused her trouble. She knew where the library was from being there so often, and that was often where she spent her time.
When Ethel got there, she had been focused on reading a book, meaning that, had there been a danger, Ethel might either theorize about it or ignore it, neither of which was very helpful. she grabbed a book that was all about fairytales, and in the back of her mind, the weird incident was over. She had no idea how wrong she'd be and these incidents would continue. She had no idea that she would have to grow up very soon.
So, that's exactly where Ethel went, and once the caretakers found out she was skipping class, she'd be in deep water. She had no idea what time it was, which had often caused her trouble. She knew where the library was from being there so often, and that was often where she spent her time.
When Ethel got there, she had been focused on reading a book, meaning that, had there been a danger, Ethel might either theorize about it or ignore it, neither of which was very helpful. she grabbed a book that was all about fairytales, and in the back of her mind, the weird incident was over. She had no idea how wrong she'd be and these incidents would continue. She had no idea that she would have to grow up very soon.
Sybela
Bear 🐻
Coyote
The Ferryman
Sybela
Feral
The raven’s head jerked back and it fluttered, frightened, on Colette’s shoulder. “Fools,” it croaked. The sound of tearing cloth shattered the silence and for a moment… all was still…
The raven whispered, “Run.” Then it flew away.
“YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE. YOUR FACE,” the shrieks of shredded vocal cords and the tearing of flesh and skin rapidly grew louder.
“Light or doors! This way-caw!” the raven called from further down the hall. “Escape quickly or it will catch you!”
Paperface
Wood Pulp Connoisseur
Doris Martin
Calm down. A familiar sound entered her thoughts. I must know who damaged our home. She argued with herself. Her gaze stared off into the distance as her thoughts absorbed her. Calm down, Dory. Dory. He was not going to relent. This morning has been difficult. She admitted to her own thoughts. I know, Dory. Breathe in deeply.
She agreed with her internal portrayal of the voice of that man. The deep inhale that followed brought new air into her lungs and forced some problematic assumptions out of her mind. She could always rely on her blessing to reassure her, but... She paused. It had made her no less upset that the orphanage had suffered, in her eyes, unnecessary damages, but it somewhat cleared her mind. A more logical train of thought, fueled by Mateo's explanation rather than emotion, replaced her previous assumptions. Was it true that a stuck latch and some unexplained noises had forced their hands? As she rested her pale gaze on Gwyn's glove, she felt her expression soften at the thought of the girl. Yet, she could not shake the feeling that something else had a part in what had happened here. It was something she could not put together at the moment.
“Alright,”
Barely a sound from the aged voice, and Doris snapped back in line with her duties. Her gaze moved over to the man. Providing her undivided attention as he spoke. This man, the professor, had been closest to the Owner for as long as she could remember. Doris knew her presence was merely second-rate in that regard. As the professor explained the situation, he subsequently provided the script Doris would closely adhere to should the children have further questions later in the day. It was a reassuring feeling to know the professor would surely inform the whole of the caretakers before too long. She let out a sigh of relief as she let go of the internalized troubles that had surfaced since Olivia had unintentionally prevented them from aligning their stories earlier.
Upon the professor addressing her, she quickly adjusted her posture where necessary. Doris knew how to pose herself, but not all came equally naturally. Even after all these years. However, during her time at the orphanage, she had never slipped up in front of him specifically. This time was no different. If anything, she would ensure the professor never laid his eyes on her carrying herself incorrectly. Doris straightened her back and rested her hands neatly over her apron before bowing at the man.
“Certainly, sir. I would be delighted to assist the children with their studies.” She stated, composed, in response to the request. However, the children that had been present before had already left. She could still hear the faint sound of Frida stomping through the halls. No doubt still dragging Quinn along by his wrist. With no stragglers remaining present to direct towards the classrooms, Doris saw no reason to linger. She took another bow, silently announcing her departure, and left through the door leading into the foyer.
The morning events brought memories back as soon as she laid eyes on the foyer. Her arrival at the orphanage filled her mind as she let her gaze wander the inviting space. Fine carpets and floral pieces offset the abundance of luxurious hardwood. It was as inviting as an entrance expected to be. She had intended to cut right through the room and pay it no mind as her destination was elsewhere. However, as she passed by the stairs, she felt compelled to stop and turn her attention toward the steps. A slight burning sensation returned to her eyes. She was up there. Somewhere.
Doris shook her head. In doing so, discarding the thought from her mind. She tore her gaze from the hardwood steps and pressed on. She had to. The sight of a small gathering at the end of the hallway greeted her as she left the foyer. They were Makoto and two of the children, Annai and Oliver. "We missed you during breakfast, Oliver. I do hope everything is well with you?" She asked as she approached them. The apparent intent of the question quickly changed from concerned interest to a simple pleasantry as she carefully navigated past them. Looking back at them once she had made it into the doorway behind them. "Makoto," she bowed lightly, "would you be so kind as to send these two to their class as soon as possible?"
Unbeknownst to her, she had contradicted the man's statement regarding postponed classes. Had she arrived sooner, she may have heard the damning words, but since she had not, all that followed was another bow before she disappeared into the library.
There were walls of bookshelves as far as the pale eye could see. It was a verified treasure trove of knowledge. At least for those willing to submerge themselves into the written word. Doris was not one of those people. She enjoyed writing herself – in the form of journalling – but could never sit down and enjoy a written story. Passing by a few of the shelves, her gaze traveled from distraction to distraction. A title she thought she recognized but then did not. Then, the golden glow of the chandeliers hanging from the engraved ceiling. Upon rounding a corner, she found her next 'distraction' — three of them, in fact. Frida, Quinn, and Ozymandias blocked her path toward the classroom. "I am pleased to see so many of you arriving here before me--" She spoke with her best attempt at sounding delighted in light of current events before her eyes fell on Frida's floating locks. "Frida, is everything well? I assure you the incident at the bathroom should not worry you any longer."
- - - - - - - - - -
Location: Bathroom -> Foyer -> Hallway -> Library
Interaction: Yes. Oliver (
SavannahSmiles
), Makoto (
Kovacs
), Frida (
Ghostiiys
), Quinn (
CeaserXIX
), Ozymandias (
Sunsmiter
)
Mentions: Also yes. Mateo (
AmberV
), Gwyn (
Sybela
), Annai (
aurivee_
)
Calm down. A familiar sound entered her thoughts. I must know who damaged our home. She argued with herself. Her gaze stared off into the distance as her thoughts absorbed her. Calm down, Dory. Dory. He was not going to relent. This morning has been difficult. She admitted to her own thoughts. I know, Dory. Breathe in deeply.
She agreed with her internal portrayal of the voice of that man. The deep inhale that followed brought new air into her lungs and forced some problematic assumptions out of her mind. She could always rely on her blessing to reassure her, but... She paused. It had made her no less upset that the orphanage had suffered, in her eyes, unnecessary damages, but it somewhat cleared her mind. A more logical train of thought, fueled by Mateo's explanation rather than emotion, replaced her previous assumptions. Was it true that a stuck latch and some unexplained noises had forced their hands? As she rested her pale gaze on Gwyn's glove, she felt her expression soften at the thought of the girl. Yet, she could not shake the feeling that something else had a part in what had happened here. It was something she could not put together at the moment.
“Alright,”
Barely a sound from the aged voice, and Doris snapped back in line with her duties. Her gaze moved over to the man. Providing her undivided attention as he spoke. This man, the professor, had been closest to the Owner for as long as she could remember. Doris knew her presence was merely second-rate in that regard. As the professor explained the situation, he subsequently provided the script Doris would closely adhere to should the children have further questions later in the day. It was a reassuring feeling to know the professor would surely inform the whole of the caretakers before too long. She let out a sigh of relief as she let go of the internalized troubles that had surfaced since Olivia had unintentionally prevented them from aligning their stories earlier.
Upon the professor addressing her, she quickly adjusted her posture where necessary. Doris knew how to pose herself, but not all came equally naturally. Even after all these years. However, during her time at the orphanage, she had never slipped up in front of him specifically. This time was no different. If anything, she would ensure the professor never laid his eyes on her carrying herself incorrectly. Doris straightened her back and rested her hands neatly over her apron before bowing at the man.
“Certainly, sir. I would be delighted to assist the children with their studies.” She stated, composed, in response to the request. However, the children that had been present before had already left. She could still hear the faint sound of Frida stomping through the halls. No doubt still dragging Quinn along by his wrist. With no stragglers remaining present to direct towards the classrooms, Doris saw no reason to linger. She took another bow, silently announcing her departure, and left through the door leading into the foyer.
The morning events brought memories back as soon as she laid eyes on the foyer. Her arrival at the orphanage filled her mind as she let her gaze wander the inviting space. Fine carpets and floral pieces offset the abundance of luxurious hardwood. It was as inviting as an entrance expected to be. She had intended to cut right through the room and pay it no mind as her destination was elsewhere. However, as she passed by the stairs, she felt compelled to stop and turn her attention toward the steps. A slight burning sensation returned to her eyes. She was up there. Somewhere.
Doris shook her head. In doing so, discarding the thought from her mind. She tore her gaze from the hardwood steps and pressed on. She had to. The sight of a small gathering at the end of the hallway greeted her as she left the foyer. They were Makoto and two of the children, Annai and Oliver. "We missed you during breakfast, Oliver. I do hope everything is well with you?" She asked as she approached them. The apparent intent of the question quickly changed from concerned interest to a simple pleasantry as she carefully navigated past them. Looking back at them once she had made it into the doorway behind them. "Makoto," she bowed lightly, "would you be so kind as to send these two to their class as soon as possible?"
Unbeknownst to her, she had contradicted the man's statement regarding postponed classes. Had she arrived sooner, she may have heard the damning words, but since she had not, all that followed was another bow before she disappeared into the library.
There were walls of bookshelves as far as the pale eye could see. It was a verified treasure trove of knowledge. At least for those willing to submerge themselves into the written word. Doris was not one of those people. She enjoyed writing herself – in the form of journalling – but could never sit down and enjoy a written story. Passing by a few of the shelves, her gaze traveled from distraction to distraction. A title she thought she recognized but then did not. Then, the golden glow of the chandeliers hanging from the engraved ceiling. Upon rounding a corner, she found her next 'distraction' — three of them, in fact. Frida, Quinn, and Ozymandias blocked her path toward the classroom. "I am pleased to see so many of you arriving here before me--" She spoke with her best attempt at sounding delighted in light of current events before her eyes fell on Frida's floating locks. "Frida, is everything well? I assure you the incident at the bathroom should not worry you any longer."
- - - - - - - - - -
Location: Bathroom -> Foyer -> Hallway -> Library
Interaction: Yes. Oliver (
SavannahSmiles
), Makoto (
Kovacs
), Frida (
Ghostiiys
), Quinn (
CeaserXIX
), Ozymandias (
Sunsmiter
)Mentions: Also yes. Mateo (
AmberV
), Gwyn (
Sybela
), Annai (
aurivee_
)
Sunsmiter
And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."
Ozymandias
Location: Hallway
Interactions: Frida, Quinn
Mentions: N/A
Location: Hallway
Interactions: Frida, Quinn
Mentions: N/A
It was an absolutely repulsive feeling.
"So...what are we doing today?" Oz asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Do we get to practice our oddities?" He wouldn't mind any distraction from the day's...weird events. It hasn't happened to him yet, and with his optimistic attitude he surely hope no more of this weirdness would happen to him or anyone else, yet....
No time to worry now. Got to smile! Look happy, high morale's bound to do something. And besides, it was far better than just feeling so...down.
"And if we aren't going to do that, can someone please answer me on whether or not that one angle in the dining room is at 89 degrees or 90 degrees?"
Or that. In his defense, that angle was really bothering him.
Paperface
Ghostiiys
CeaserXIX
Feral
Your local lackadaisical spirit
♡coded by uxie♡
Coyote
The Ferryman
Sybela
Feral
Your muscles strained and your lungs burned as you ran, pushing past the limits of what you thought was possible for your body. The adrenaline flooding your veins was deafening. The blood rushed past your ears and you felt every heartbeat like the pounding of a drum beneath your ribs. Your fingers burned against the textured walls and the wild thrashing of the creature behind you grew louder. Your hands left the wall suddenly signifying the turn of a corner so you took it. Only a few steps were taken beyond it, however, before the Raven pecked the both of you in the head. So you froze. You didn’t dare move a muscle, even holding your breath for fear that your breaths were too loud. Then that was when it occurred to you. When did it get so quiet?
The static in Gwyn’s head has reached critical mass and for good reason. Moments of silence passed before a slow footstep dragged itself across the floor. The hair in the backs of your neck stood on end and a sensation found it’s way to Cole’s shoulder. It wasn’t the raven. A long, slender hand clutched her, leaning on her as if she was a still, cold mannequin. It’s fingers wrapped over her shoulder like devilish tongues hungry for the taste of flesh. Another slow, dragging footstep. Gwyn felt a prickling on her face, like a collection of searching, probing antennas tickling her nose, cheeks, and lips looking for the sensation of a breathing, living creature. So you held your breath, forcing your eyes shut.
Another step. And another. It took its hand off and wheezed. “Your face… your face… your face… your face…” it pleaded, sobbing. For a second, you almost pitied it. The creature sounded broken beyond any hope but you were no fools. You didn’t dare move an inch. It continued down the hallway and stopped. Then, the flick of a switch was heard and an old, flickering lamp buzzed to life. There it stood. Unmoving before a ledge just past you in the hallway. It seemed the Other had more tricks up its sleeve, for two other hallways branched from your path, but they didn’t move left or right. They went into the ceiling and into the floor. The Thing’s figure hung limp, like a person standing asleep or in a trance. Then suddenly, it screeched and from the cavity where it’s face should be, sprouted a countless number of insectoid legs that latched onto the walls and carried the Thing into the hallway above.
The raven remained perched on the lamp and stared quietly at Cole and Gwyn. After a few moments passed, it turned to look towards the end of the hall where a single wooden door stood, past the gap in the ground with the hallway leading straight down into more darkness. The static now was much softer. It seemed the Thing did not fancy the light too much.
“That is your exit,” the Raven said in a low voice. “Do try to avoid falling when you jump.”
Kovacs
the maestro of mad shit.
Caretaker
Makoto Madiyarov
CeaserXIX
PRAISE THE EMPEROR
Quinn
- Following as best as he could with Frida to the classroom
-
Sunsmiter
Ghostiiys
Paperface
Quinn barely had time to say much, before Frida had begun to drag him along, like a lost dog being found by it's owner, though he complained in no way, his eyes solely focused on simply following Frida, listening silently to her echoing footfalls, heavy and harsh, while they moved. He knew the Caretakers knew what he knew, 'But why would they hide it?' he silently thought to himself, having barely been able to fully process the events from the night prior. As they both neared the classroom, his mind still deep in thought, his eyes fell onto the young boy, Oz, and remembered what Mateo asked of him. "'Ey, Ozzy, Mateo said that he's not gonna need help wit' the garden, but he'd like yer' help with a busted door. Latch got stuck, so he 'ad to break the door in," he half lied, not wanting to inform anyone of what they had done to the bathroom door, or rather, what he had done to said door.
Not too much after he finished speaking, is when he noticed the sudden shift in the air, feeling locks of his own hair lift up into the hair, seeing Frida's enraged eyes, immediately causing him to move to her side, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "'Ey, 'ey, 'tis all good now, we can' get in trouble for what jus' 'appened, yea? No need to lose yer' temper now, an' ya' know this, love. Come on, don' make me 'ave to make ya' smile," he teased softly to her, gently poking her cheek with a sky and cheeky grin, much like that of a cheshire cat, mischief written all over his face, before he noticed Doris coming towards them, knowing she'd be wondering on what was going on in that current moment. "Tis' alrigh', Sis. I've got it, no need to get ya' jimmies ina' jam," he quickly said, trying to keep Doris away from the currently flammable and easily escalating situation he was currently trying to deescalate.
- Following as best as he could with Frida to the classroom
-
Sunsmiter
Ghostiiys
Paperface
Quinn barely had time to say much, before Frida had begun to drag him along, like a lost dog being found by it's owner, though he complained in no way, his eyes solely focused on simply following Frida, listening silently to her echoing footfalls, heavy and harsh, while they moved. He knew the Caretakers knew what he knew, 'But why would they hide it?' he silently thought to himself, having barely been able to fully process the events from the night prior. As they both neared the classroom, his mind still deep in thought, his eyes fell onto the young boy, Oz, and remembered what Mateo asked of him. "'Ey, Ozzy, Mateo said that he's not gonna need help wit' the garden, but he'd like yer' help with a busted door. Latch got stuck, so he 'ad to break the door in," he half lied, not wanting to inform anyone of what they had done to the bathroom door, or rather, what he had done to said door.
Not too much after he finished speaking, is when he noticed the sudden shift in the air, feeling locks of his own hair lift up into the hair, seeing Frida's enraged eyes, immediately causing him to move to her side, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "'Ey, 'ey, 'tis all good now, we can' get in trouble for what jus' 'appened, yea? No need to lose yer' temper now, an' ya' know this, love. Come on, don' make me 'ave to make ya' smile," he teased softly to her, gently poking her cheek with a sky and cheeky grin, much like that of a cheshire cat, mischief written all over his face, before he noticed Doris coming towards them, knowing she'd be wondering on what was going on in that current moment. "Tis' alrigh', Sis. I've got it, no need to get ya' jimmies ina' jam," he quickly said, trying to keep Doris away from the currently flammable and easily escalating situation he was currently trying to deescalate.
AmberV
New Member
Mateo Solinas
Mateo tugged the woolen collar of his overcoat close as he stepped out into the brisk morning. The sun reflected off the newly laid snow and he began the slow trudge through the fresh drifts, eyes pinned to the ground as he looked for any footprints that might belong to the girls. The morning deliveries had mucked up the snow in areas, but he doubted that they could have slipped out through the kitchens. The other caretakers weren't so blind that they wouldn't notice Gwyn and Cole sneaking through the kitchens right under their noses. So the girls would have had to have left through a window or one of the doors, if they had left at all.
He was doubting that they had left at all. On a morning this cold, the warmth of the library's roaring fireplace would be far more welcoming.
Then again, children did foolish things. Quinn was out at night far more than he should be, regardless of the cold.
God above, that boy worried him. Mateo couldn't count the number of times he'd tried to talk sense into the lad, warning him that the woods were no place to wander at night. But nothing had come for the boy yet, thank the Heavens. He couldn't imagine Quinn keeping something like that from him. Something will, eventually. The voice in the back of his mind nagged at him, taunting him. It was a pity that it was right.
Mateo had searched for days for Georgie. The only times he dragged himself back to the orphanage were to eat and drink, before returning to scour the woods. Everyone gets unlucky eventually and Quinn, someday, would get unlucky. Mateo prayed that, when that day came, he would be close enough to do something about it.
There were no breaks in the fresh snow outside the windows. His long circuit around the orphanage was proving fruitless, but it at least told him that he had far less to search than he had feared. There were only so many rooms in the orphanage, after all.
Location: Foyer-> Gardens and Grounds
Tags:
Mention: Quinn, Gwyn, Cole
