Fantasy The Case of Lockheed Orphanage for the Supernaturally Gifted

Sunsmiter · Nov 20, 2022

Ozymandias
Location: Classroom
Interactions: Quinn, Frida, Doris Martin
Mentions: Matteo

"Can do!" Oz waved a languish hand, looking surprisingly calm. There was definetely much more to this mystery, but the golden-eyed orphan was sure it would turn out fine...right? "That'll be easy reverting it to its rightful place, as it should. Leave it to me! Thanks for telling me, Quinn."
Ozymandias strolled into the classroom, probably looking far calmer than he felt. The light streaming through the windows made him feel much more at ease, no matter what the prospects of today's lesson may be. He was still a child after all. And while he might have all of eternity before him, he only had two decades at most to enjoy being a child, of which Oz had many more behind him than in front of him left. Enjoy life while you still live it. Take as many naps as you can want in the sun. The night will catch up sooner or later.
"So...what are we doing today? Frida? Quinn? Practicing oddities? Math?" If math, let it be geometry. At least he liked geometry. "Science?"

SavannahSmiles · Nov 20, 2022

location

Kitchen

mentions

Jasper

Tags

SavannahSmiles

Jasper Cummings

Once Jasper had finished bandaging his hand he dug in his satchel for medical scissors and was pleased when he found them. He promptly used the metal to cut the fabric and placed both items on his thigh for further use. He lightly pressed his fingernail to his ring finger, creating a small and white crescent moon which quickly flooded back to a pale red as he released his hand. The circulation satisfied him enough, and he lifted his bandaged arm forward gesturing for Olivia’s hand.

Yet before he could touch her the kitchen doors slammed open. He jumped at the offending noise, quickly retreating his hand, and instinctively looked to the entrance to spot none other than Oliver. Jasper wouldn’t have been surprised if the doors had fallen off their hinges at the force of which the child had announced his arrival. Jasper gave a slight breath of relief; thankful he wasn’t holding the girl’s hand, undoubtably he would’ve injured her more when her brother had barged in.

Jasper glared at Oliver as he sat down behind his sister. However ‘good’ Oliver’s intentions were, did little to resolve Olivia’s sprain, and merely promoted a flicker of annoyance in Jasper. He needed the child to calm down to a more manageable degree, but before Jasper could voice his desire, Olivia answered Oliver.

Jasper diverted his attention back to Oliva and reached again for her wrist, gently guiding her arm towards him. With steady hands he gingerly placed his fingers over the swollen area.

A light switch requires very little force to plunge a room in darkness, but you are also able to choose the length of the shadows by using a dimmer. His oddity worked the same way; touching the skin where a physical injury lay, lit up a room for him, and he was presented with a switch and a dimmer. However, what light he didn’t use must be rerouted to another. As the body naturally begins to heal, the room increasingly darkens.

Jasper chose to dim Olivia’s room by about half, grimacing at the quickly increasing pain in his right wrist. He softly lifted his touch away from her when he was finished and propped his right arm against his leg. Jasper had practiced this enough times to be confident enough in wrapping Olivia’s hand with one arm, and if he needed to use his right hand to hold a material a slight strain wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s had to endure.

coded by natasha.

Sybela · Nov 21, 2022

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

Frightened
what she's wearing...

Plain dress
where she's at...

The Other —— Colette’s bedroom
in the conversation...

Colette

Gwyneira

The Telepath

Flight or fight activated and the immense feeling to run overtook her entire soul. From the tips of her toes, to the top of her head, the catastrophic shiver that engulfed her only screamed one word; Run.

Furniture had been overturned, hands pushing into objects, bodies colliding with whatever stuck out in their way. Regardless of what fell, they detoured another direction; swerving away from the noise as one thing was clear; the creature followed sound.

Desperation evident as their steps grew quicker, helped with the agile grace of a ballerina. Gwyn was tugged along for the journey and any thought of pain in her leg turned mute: The adrenaline coursing through her too much to care.

Her headache screamed at her brain, the intense, suffocating, feeling squeezing the entirety of her encephalon. The pressure grew, continuing as if there were elastic bands wound tightly amongst the organ making it hard to cereberate about anything, let along use her powers to commune with Colette.

And then,

It hit her.

The air turned stagnant, her chest heaved violently and her fingers trembled with anticipation towards the fear. The raven had returned, only to peck, and that was their signal to stop. Gwyn was like a deadbolt; she rooted her feet to the spot and almost immediately clenched her eyes shut; squeezing until blind spots marred her dark sight behind the closed eyelids. Her ears, at the sudden intrusion of touch on her face, popped. Everything was quiet, everything was still— Apart from the discordance that punched her mind into bruised oblivion.

She hated the touch, despised that she lost a few of her senses just to rid them both of this gnarlish bastard of a thing that hunted and sought them out for their faces. Gwyn held her breath, fighting the urge to bat away whatever the bloody hell was invading her personal space and touching her. She waited

And waited.

The minutes ticked by and she still dared not to open her eyes, the time she did have to take a breath, she did so with agonising shudders; terrified of having an unfortunate death. But…Nothing happened. Blinking her eyes open, Gwyn glanced about and, with the utmost horror, she realised she had gone deaf. Nothing but a permanent ring in both ears; a deafening drone that resembled a baby’s wail in volume.

She tore her hand from Colette’s hold, reaching to her ears and touching them with trepidation, a tremble in both hands. There she felt a wetness, one that matched the liquid that fell from her nostrils; blood.

Her body became paralysed at the sudden revelation; her limbs a heavy mess as her head whipped in the direction of Colette. Gwyn’s eyes widened, bug-like, and she let out a quiet choked sob; still aware of her surroundings, in some sense.

Her lips flapped about; her breath turning ragged as the hyperventilation began to step in. What could she do? Her fingers sought out the insides of her ears; poking in and eventually slapping at the holes in a futile attempt to return the stolen sense. It didn’t work. She couldn’t breathe, every intake like molten lava engulfing her chest, her throat a painful wanton crushing wall.

The sole reason for her continual existence finally took her hand once more and, despite the nagging feeling of wanting to shake the physical contact off, Gwyn squeezed onto Colette’s hand as if it meant the entire world to her.

There wasn’t anything either of them could do in this situation and even as she wished to express her thanks towards the five-eyed raven, she was whisked away by Colette; thankful to the girl entirely for taking the lead.

Their path lead them towards a wooden door; one that looked relatively better than the place in its entirety. Her mind was elsewhere to even humour the thought as her senses edged precariously on a thin line of a total meltdown.

They jumped; landing just past the hole and tumbling through the wooden door into the painfully empty room before them. The four walls bare part from a ragged wallpaper that spewed a pattern of hummingbirds against the washed out colour. A nail hung against the wall and Gwyn watched helplessly as Colette flipped the mirror and hung it against the crooked nail; the mirror hanging by a very fine thread.

She was still a mess as their vision bleaked once more; darkness setting in just as a remembrance to the Umbris that they’d just experienced. The events swirled amongst her memories, the chase still penetrating her scars and timid emotions. The touch of antennas or feelers or whatever the fuck they were still imprinted in her mind and then…She collided with a floor.

Her eyes sprung open immediately, her breath had been completely knocked from her and, with tangled movements, she scarpered back against the floor. Hands slapped at the ground, nails digging into the boards while her feet kicked out in front of her. A cold foreign object smacked into her back, knobs pushing against the fabric of her dress in an uncomfortable position. She pressed against what she assumed to be a dresser, hard.

There she drew in quick breaths, her chest rising without falling as every inhale pierced her heart with a gut-wrenching stab. She was gone; her senses overstimulated and the utter fright that coursed through her veins added to the increase paranoia and discomposure that she was exhibiting. Gwyn took one final ragged breath, stilled, and finally let out a bloodcurdling scream. She felt the consternation that whatever had chased them would show up here too and this time? It would devour them.

♡coded by uxie♡

Coyote · Nov 21, 2022

Kovacs

The Professor picked up a half-finished bottle of whiskey and set aside a glass. He moved to pour one for himself but hesitated. Then, he sighed and got up once more to grab another glass. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. He poured a glass for both him and Makoto, raising his glass for but a moment before taking a sip. The sunshine cast its rays across the room, illuminating the dust that persisted despite incessant cleaning by both him and the caretakers. It was a product of keep the endless stacks of papers before him containing notes, texts, diagrams, anything and everything pertaining to his study of Oddities. He was not shy about it and felt neither threatened nor ashamed of his work to have it before Makoto. The polished wooden desk glistened with affluence, framing the small golden plaque with 'Professor...' and then a scratched off secondary name.

"You are correct," he said, "the Owner wishes to pass this off as a mere illness. After some time, we can say that a family visiting the hospital came across her and loved her so much, they decided to adopt her. Quite a simple cover really."

"You handled yourself," the Professor looked at him for a moment, letting the word linger at the tip of his tongue, "appropriately. There are no complaints. Not a step too far and nary a peek too many. Your people have come a long way since taking to civilizing themselves. I'm impressed," the Professor took another sip of his drink. "I am glad I can trust you with further tasks."

The Professor set his drink down and shuffled his papers, plucking a file from the stack and handing it to Makoto. "A new Caretaker will be arriving tomorrow. See to it that you welcome her and tend to her needs. Carry her things and tidy her room," he seemed almost dismissive in his tone, as if he was afraid those words of complement were going to get to Makoto's head. "Let me know if there is anything I may guide you with in carrying this out."

The file contained the name, Annabelle Lee Taylor
Age: 27
Sex: Female
Height: 5'5"
And was accompanied by a host of credentials detailing her time as a secretary for the corporate offices of an electronics company called IBM in America. It was quite dense but comprehensive and showed a lot of promise, especially for a young caretaker. The photo attached revealed the fair face of a beautiful woman with deep red lips and smokey eyes that seemed like they were made to star in a nightclub as lead singer. Her luscious brunette hair curled around her face, framing it in a shapely and warm smile, pearl white.

"Bright and early, Makoto," the Professor said, looking down at his notes from the night before and reorganizing them for further review.

dontPanic · Nov 21, 2022

Hank Mason

It wasn’t more than a moment after Hank closed the door behind him when he heard a very loud shriek a few rooms down the hall. So startled was he that when he took his next step, his right foot slipped clean out of his shoe unimpeded by friction. He swore, then instinctively stole a glance behind him to check if anyone was nearby. The hall was empty, but Hank still let out a small sigh. “This again? Everyone seems to be out of their mind today. I sure do hope that Mr. Solinas didn’t put those damned mushrooms by the woods into our breakfast...” He very quietly crept to the room where he believed the shriek originated. There, he paused. Once again, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do in such a situation—knock perhaps? In fact, he still wasn’t quite sure who it was that was inside the room. “It sounded feminine, but I wouldn’t rule out Oliver or Oz or Quinn. Though I did see the former two not too long ago…It’s probably not Annai again, nor Olivia since Mr. Madiyarov mentioned her being in the kitchen…The pitch seems consistent with Gwyn or Frida, though if it’s the latter I should probably avoid knocking altogether…” At this point, Hank realized that he was getting distracted, and gave the door a sharp knock.

Location: Bedroom door

Mentions Sybela , and possibly Feral

Ghostiiys · Nov 22, 2022

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Frida Wagner

Location: Classroom

Quinn's attempt to calm her seldom helped to change her mood but it did help ground her. She patted her hair back down which was another way to help her mind from making random things float, Frida could recall a memory of her hitting herself in the face with a spoon because she had issues controlling her oddity.

"I'll try, but don't you think something is seriously wrong? We haven't seen cole since breakfast... and-" Before she could finish Doris had walked in, Frida could tell by the sound of her voice that she was feeling down, but Frida was not in the position to empathize with her. Especially in front of everyone else. The moments of this morning rattled her and Doris asking her if she was all right only shook her further.

"No, Everything is NOT well Doris," Frida yelled, her arms motioning towards the sky, classroom supplies beginning to float as well, a staticky tension in the air as if a thundercloud had just passed. "Where is Colette? Where is Gwyneira?? Where is that creepy little Abigail?! And why aren't any of the adults acting like it's not odd? We've all been living here for years and there has never been three disappearances, Gwyn has never just left her gloves on the ground. And those noises? In the bathroom?!Ugh!" Exasperated, Frida threw her hands back down, and with that, all the trinkets in her vicinity came down as well.

Her chest heaved in and out, and Frida was extremely perturbed. Although an innocent question from Doris, it made Frida unload the concerns she was having.

Ozy's quip about the angles and degrees made Frida shoot a glare at him. "Don't you have anything better to do? Maybe, fix the door? That would be a great use of your power Oz." Frida chortled before sitting down at a desk.

"Can we please do something? Anything besides having to think about this... I'd even do some math right now for goodness' sake!"

CeaserXIX

Sunsmiter

Paperface

Kovacs · Nov 22, 2022

Caretaker

Makoto Madiyarov

theme

Location: The Professor's Office

A mere illness. A cover so smooth in its simplicity, the only wrinkles would be the children's, peering cleverly yet uselessly into the veil. Sudden fevers were common enough too, Makoto supposed. Especially when the cold season had such an appetite for this corner of the world. A craving his mother had always been fearful of, despite having raised him and spent her whole life in Hokkaido, Japan's northernmost district.

Ah, a new family. A bald-faced lie. But the soldier in him remained unmoved. All throughout the war, the world had comforted itself on lies. Fed through the silver screen, a recruiter's silver tongue, or a silver coin to put up propaganda posters, it made no difference. In the end, it all paid to put blood on countless fields for a lesson never meant to be learned, only repeated.

Makoto shifted, taking a moment to swirl the whiskey in his newly acquired cup. His back stood a little straighter, the Professor's compliment awakening a vague sense of being back in the army, once again best in his squadron. But like his whiskey, it would not last long. Your people have come a long way since taking to civilizing themselves. Makoto swallowed it down, eyeing the Professor as he set the glass on a nearby shelf, a thin leftover layer of whiskey still glinting in the winter light.

His arms loosened from their returning crossed position, more from surprise than actual preparation in taking the file from the Professor.

Annabelle Lee Taylor.

The first thing that came to mind was an office, much like this one. Except instead of a study, there was an enormous electric accounting machine, which had only been invented and brought to the market five years ago by IBM. Nearby, wafted the incessant whirring and tap dance of a typewriter. Beyond the dense white, Makoto sought out the corners of the colored photo and lingered there, drinking in the symmetry of her sultry features. Nothing about this woman, eight years his junior, screamed demure or IBM; every curl of chestnut brown hair oozed an American savoir-faire, crimson lips fit to blow kisses to Hollywood cameras with smouldering eyes to match. Despite her obvious beauty, there was a difficulty he could sense about her. The kind that could only be cultivated in the fires of the roaring twenties. One that was testament to not being able to square this woman working as a simple secretary for an electronics company, much less a government-controlled institution like Lockheed.

Makoto palmed at his neck for a moment, before realizing his scarf was no longer on his shoulders, but still on Olivia's. Welcoming was not usually an attitude others accepted from him so readily these days. He was a scarred wardog, went that common little insult from those thinly pursed lips. His was a face one had to acclimate to first, if one were to have any chance to feel relaxed.
Still, it was a curious thing. What possibly could have driven a woman like Taylor to the Orphanage's doorstep now, so long after he and Adelaide were the last to be employed? What oddity would she find herself with? Would she turn out to be as insufferable as Adelaide was at times? Or as steady and sweet as a melody like Doris was to him on the worst of days?

The Professor must have sensed a distractedness, for his tone was unmistakably drier with every instruction he laid out for him. At the sound of rustling papers, Makoto's attention was drawn back up from his woolgathering thoughts. Tucking the file under his arm neatly, he nodded, leaning forward in a slight bow.

"Arigatōgozaimashita. For the whiskey, the news of the new woman, and the words. I hope I can continue to impress you, Professor." Makoto glanced at the leftover whiskey still on the nearby shelf. In seconds, it was in his hand as he stepped forward. "As you do me."

He brought the cup to his lips and emptied it before, seemingly without intention, placing its wetted base squarely on an array of Oddity-related research papers.

Makoto turned, reaching for the door and its handle. "After all," he continued. "Long ago once, you can't forget your people were savages, too. In civilizing, you have come the longest way."

CODE BY SEROBLISS / VALOROUS ORDER

tags: Olivia Hawthorne

SavannahSmiles

Olivia Hawthorne

SavannahSmiles

Doris Martin

Paperface

Abigail Lipton (NPC)

SavannahSmiles

The Professor (NPC)

Sunsmiter

Paperface · Nov 22, 2022

Doris Martin

“Hello, Ozy,” Doris replied cordially, singling out the golden-eyed boy for a moment to provide a proper response to his enthusiastic greeting. It was a simple gesture enhanced by a happy facade, yet it touched her. Compared to the morning she had endured thus far, any form of friendliness was a welcome change of pace. Oz's greeting had provided a small - but noticeable - boost to her mood. The morning had been draining, but the kind gesture returned some lost energy, and she was grateful for it. Raising her hand, Doris mirrored the wave for the final few steps it took to close the remaining distance between her and the children. Upon joining their gathering fully, she noticed the remnants of static tension in the air but failed to realize it was the eye of the storm she had willingly entered.

Her gaze moved between the children as both boys answered a question meant for neither. That alone should have tipped her off about the brewing storm approaching quickly. “Thank you both for your answers.” She responded with appreciation for them both coming to Frida's defense. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Quinn, presenting him with a kind smile before she picked up where she had left off. “However, if she is well, it would be my preference to hear it from the young lady herself--” The eye had passed. The storm returned.

Frida expressed her disapproval with the force of crashing thunder, and the crackling static returned to the surrounding air. Doris could feel an invisible lifting force take hold of her locks of hair. Her clothes felt lighter, like a stream of air was blown through from beneath her feet. You must stop this. A female voice in her head attempted to compel her into acting, but she refused. Just give her time. She replied in thought. Standing her ground, she listened intently as the girl before she listed her frustrations rapidly. Then, as rapidly as the storm had surrounded them, it too faded away.

“Abigail has come down with a terrible fever,” Doris began answering the questions as she gestured towards the classroom door, “She had to be taken to the hospital for the appropriate treatment. I apologize for worrying you so.” Entering the learning space along with the children, she hoped the words bestowed upon her by the professor would suffice in satisfying their need for answers. Stepping lightly, she crossed the wooden floorboards until she reached the podium and took her place in front of the chalkboard. “As for the two young ladies,” She continued as she divided her gaze equally among the present trio, the lack of their classmates making her feel more at ease. After all, it meant fewer eyes glued to her form. “the others are hard at work searching the orphanage for them. Truly, you need not worry.”

Feeling as though she had addressed the situation sufficiently - for the time being - she turned her back to the classroom. Taking up a ruler and a piece of chalk, she marked the board with parallel horizontal lines before writing her own name between the lines. It would suffice as an example of proper cursive writing. After inspecting her lettering, Doris turned her front back to the class. “Today, we will be practicing handwriting and presenting yourselves favorably. I would like you all to take a moment to consider some of your positive traits and use those to write a letter introducing yourself to a potential adoptive parent. For example--”

Turning her back once more, Doris took up the chalk, and the familiar clacking of her writing returned to the classroom. “I would consider myself--” She paused for a moment to consider what she would provide as an example. Selfish. That female voice disrupted her thoughts once more. “responsible,” Aggressive. Another disruption from her thoughts turning against her. “hard-working,” Manipulative. “and trustworthy!” She exclaimed as if the words were meant to prove a point more than provide an example. Doris stared at the chalkboard for a long moment. Her eyes carefully took in each written word before she placed the chalk down. She took a deep, long breath and turned her unchanged, kind smile and still, pale eyes towards the class. “Are there any questions regarding the assignment?”

- - - - - - - - - -
Location: Library -> Classroom
Interaction: Ozymandias (

Sunsmiter ), Quinn (

CeaserXIX ), Frida (

Ghostiiys )
Mentions: Abigail, Gwyn (

Sybela ), Colette (

Feral )

Ashy_OCdesigns · Nov 23, 2022

Ethel was now officially bored, and she wanted a book recommendation. Maybe the professor would give her a suggestion. She had seen the professor from time to time but had never actually been into his office. She needed to ask somebody where the professor was. The classroom was nearby the library, and she knew that, so she swung by. Or at least, Ethel would've, had she not heard Frida's screaming.

As such, she swung her head in, and Colette wasn't there with the other two people she always spent time with, whom Ethel collectively referred to as the QFC trio because those were the letters that were made up of Quinn, Colette and Frida. Ethel quickly continued on, hoping that she wouldn't get lost.

She eventually gave up and ducked into a bathroom. She needed time to think. What was going on today?

Feral · Nov 24, 2022

Colette.

filler

home (filler tab)
mood

Ah... Gwyn.

filler
outfit
click

filler
location

Her room.

filler
interactions

Gwyn

filler
tags

here tag

filler
home (filler tab)

Backroom Labyrinth

Cole felt like eternities had passed of silence in the monster's company. She felt as if the world was crashing apon her, bugs crawled on her, gripping at her... But she was used to the feeling. Hallucinations were a common thing in her daily life, an emotion that plagued her throat, ripping and shredding at her, invisible to the eyes of others.

Gwyn's hand pulled away from hers, taking in a sharp, uncomfortable breath. Her eyes flickered to her as her now slightly wet hand encased hers again. Blood. Damn it, damn it, damn it, Gotta get back- Don't... Gwyn- Safety.

Before she could possess it, she was already hanging up the mirror. Her feet had taken her away in her adrenaline-smattered thoughts, the motivation of getting Gwyn to safety enough to push her to her limits.

The darkness swirled, and the odd feeling of them being sucked back into the real world hit her. It was a relief just as much as a pain, a scratching, tearing feeling she didn't remember accompanying it before. She would have let out a breath of joy if it wasn't for her worry about Gwyn. Even if it hadn't been long since they were here before. She was out of it. After all, it had felt like days instead of minutes there.

She shut off her thoughts, her sensitive ears listening to Gwyn's distress the moment it came about, and felt the emotions she had been suppressing well up: protectiveness, care, affection, worry, nervousness, relief, everything. The strongest being her soul-deep care for the girl in front of her.

She could barely possess the emotions before Gwyn screamed. Cole felt herself stiffen, goosebumps rising as she automatically got closer to the girl. Gwyn, mon ange, ma chérie amour, we're safe, and... Im going to sit you down on my bed now. Can I touch your hand?

She projected her emotions softly at Gwyn and waited for the girl's response before sitting her down, tugging a spare hankie from her bedside. She sat, beginning to wipe away the blood from her face gently.

An expressive look dashed her face as she looked into Gwyn's eyes like someone had killed her favorite childhood pet right in front of her, and she couldn't do anything about it. She was... So... So... feeling for Gwyn at that moment.

Cole had dealt with many horrible things like this in her short life, but it hurt more when she watched it happen to other people. She felt a sharp tinge of sadness. Of worry. Of protectiveness. Of love for Gwyn, like she was some precious stone to protect and cherish and keep away from harm forever. Someone she was meant to protect and failed to.

Cole was crying, sobbing within seconds, holding the shorter girl's face in her hands gently, idly letting a finger run through a lock of her hair soothingly. Oh, Chérie, Darling. I'm so glad you're safe. I... Does it hurt? Well, what I can do to help, mon amour... I can get you a blanket- or you can lay down. I'll get you painkillers or something from Adelaide... It'll be alright, ill make it alright.

She sniffed, willing that the tears that were falling would go away. Keeping as much eye contact as she could bear with the pretty girl. Her wide sincere eyes attempted to look steady and reassuring as she tried not to break down and hug the girl who probably didn't want to be touched anymore.

She let those feelings swirl around the air like fog in the mornings, swirling around them. It... She couldn't help it at that moment. The bone-deep wish to comfort Gwyn trumped any control she had over her emotions and abilities. The aura was soft and nurturing but to Cole... It made her sick like she had honey stuck in her throat. She'd Ignore that. She'd do anything for Gwyn at that moment in time.

Cole notice how Gwyn wasn't taking in a peep of air, and she let out a shaky breath, in and out, she let the brush of her breath kiss the girl's face, a gentle reminder. Breathe darling, we're okay now.

(dedicated to Key for being my bestest motivator and getting me off my ass by being flawless, fabulous and fucking cool, ily :3)

♡coded by uxie♡

Coyote · Nov 24, 2022

The Professor looked at him blankly, stone-faced and unmoving before scoffing and turning back to his studies. "And thank God above for that." Nothing more was said from the man as he perused his notes, taking the wet glass and shaking his papers. Fortunately they weren't too badly damaged but it didn't stop him from grumbling to himself for a bit afterwards.

"Come on, lads, put your backs into it! The lot of you were out here letting a lady out muscle you," Arthur barked, his men hastening their delivery of the last few boxes before the deed was done. He looked at the empty backs of trucks before nodding in approval. He approached one of the trucks and reached in to nab a small handheld package wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. For a moment, he stared at it in his hands before turning back to the orphanage with a small smile and starting towards the door.

The usual sound of laughing and bickering children was heard from within as they headed off to their classes. It was about that time anyway. Hopefully, Adelaide wouldn't be so busy cleaning the breakfast hall this time. It seemed she always had something on her mind when he spoke to her. Hell, even this morning she was off slaving away with the deliveries while he and the Professor were off taking a stroll in the woods. "No more of that now, old boy," Arthur said, doing his best impression of his father. "Get out there and do yourself some good." He reached for the handle and pulled open the door.

"Adelaide?" he called out from the entrance as he let himself in. He spotted Frida walking by alongside some of her companions like Quinn but the third piece of the trio, Cole, was absent.

"Adelaide? I wanted to give my apologies and my thanks for your work this morning," he called out once more.

Kovacs

mizton

Sybela · Nov 25, 2022

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

Terrified
what she's wearing...

Plain dress
where she's at...

Colette’s bedroom
in the conversation...

Colette

Gwyneira

The Telepath

How long had it been since she had taken a breath? Her lungs wailed at her, her chest screaming pandemonium and just as she felt rush reach her head, and the dizziness set in, Colette blew into her face.

Stunned, surprised and thankful. The draft of air that hit her face forced her to take a deep breath, calming her hyperventilating state of panic. Still, she tore her eyes from the milk-chocolate orbs before her. Her own blue orbs exuding fear and fright. Her screams turned to sobs and her frame shuddered with nerve-wracking horror.

“I can’t hear, I can’t hear!”

She wailed out, fat tears pushing passed her eyelids and trickling down her cheeks. Her face splotched red, angry markings that marred beneath her eyes and splattered against the bridge of her nose. How long had it been since she’d cried his hard? Ah, yes. The assault.

The emotions that projected to her curdled her stomach, the nauseating waves rolling over her as if she sailed the turbulent seas. She understood what Colette was trying and while it helped briefly, the pain slammed back into her.
Gwyn swallowed hard, forcing that lump down her tight throat and scratching at the surrounding walls.
The taste of bile filled her mouth, coating her tongue and tastebuds but, she resisted.

Before she knew it, she was sat on the bed; legs tucked against the lower bunk frame and hands bracing on the soft sheets that had been used. An apology to Doris or Adelaide would come into use later, to whichever caretaker that had keenly dressed the bed.

The hanky fluttered against her face as if flirting with her skin, the gentlest of touches swept against the dried blood, trying to clean up the hard evidence left behind— Failing for the most part but managing to scrape off some of the fresher parts. She sat there, sobbing quietly to herself and teasing her fingers into the mattress beneath her weight.

I can’t hear anything.

She finally used her mind; the deafening ringing akin to why she thought would come from a grenade being lobbed in her vicinity. Everything hurt; her mind especially. She felt the throb of pain each time she attempted to cognitively think. Think of something, anything, absolutely everything. It all hurt, it all stabbed at her brain like a million syringes at once.

The touch of hands against her skin took her by surprise, her eyes that she had no idea that had closed instantly popped open and she recoiled back from Colette at first, a strangled scream releasing before simmering back down to a blubbering sob and, finally, the hyperventilate crying pitched back in once she confirmed that her oddity hadn’t also left her. Relief flooded her, held her hostage as Gwyn finally leaned into Colette, all but collapsing into her arms.

“I-I-I”

She stuttered, sharp intakes hitting her like a train as the attempts of speaking dwindled into nothing.

“N-Nothing. Noi-ise”

More attempts, illiterate ones at that.

Her eyes felt heavy, puffy even. Fingertips curled into the taller girls dress, the fabric twisting amongst her digits as the eye contact broke and Gwyn pressed her head against Cole’s chest, sobbing hysterically.
Cole’s voice sung into her head, frantic in reality but it was nothing short of music to Gwyn. This beautiful ballerina before her with her caramel-like voice.

Painkillers. Anything.

She bit out through their connection, voice dry and hoarse like it would be if she attempted to speak again. The pain was still there in tone, the subtle hiccups puncturing the words to break them up.
Gwyn turned her head against Cole, cheek pressed against her breast as they embraced one another. Her sobbing continued, the calmness she felt dissipating every time it hit her. Would her hearing come back? After such thoughts, her pulse sped up once more and those choked sobs returned.

She needed something for the pain, anything.
Gwyns eyes fluttered towards the mirror, her splitting headache amping up. Just a knock would do, right? One swift headbutt and the pain would be gone…Yes? Yes.

♡coded by uxie♡

aurivee_ · Nov 26, 2022

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Annai Mestra

LOCATION: Library Doors ----> Library

The girl failed to respond to the growing crowd of onlookers, her eyes unfocused and distant. She stood before the doors, motionless in her shock. The presence that she’d felt was long gone, and yet she still felt the tendrils of fear grasping her heart.

It was a familiar feeling. They came down like puppet strings, and they forced her to dance to their whims. Her seemingly infallible masks crumbled beneath their grip. She’d learned to conceal her true self, her vulnerable self, her weak self - but all it took was a gentle pull on the strings to shatter the ice she encased herself in.

That ice had become both her protection and her prison. It forced her into a single, constant image - an image of confident yet indifferent mirth. It still caused chills to run down her spine, and as she lingered in its hold, she could feel herself freezing and withering away. At the same time, however, it felt safe. She’d grown addicted to the cold embrace, even though she was perpetually trapped within it. Even though she knew it was not good for her.

But every so often, the flames of fear would break through. They consumed her icy chrysalis, leaving her completely exposed.

She didn’t like the person that showed itself when the ice melted, even though it was more true than anything else she showed to the world.

And so, when the heat faded away, she returned to the ice. Time and time again, it froze her features back into that perfect image of absolute self-assurance.

As terrible as it was, she craved the stability and protection that her illusions - the ice - provided her with.

Maybe, deep down, she did want to be free. She didn’t want to be cold anymore. She never allowed herself to really feel that, though. The prospect was far too terrifying to even consider.

The fear was slowly fading, and yet the ice was not returning. Where had it gone?

She vaguely perceived several people speaking to her. Oliver, the wielder of a more literal kind of ice. Ozy, who held power over time itself. Makoto, whose control of momentum she could hardly comprehend.

Why were any of these happenings surprising? No one at this orphanage was anywhere near normal. It made sense that the orphanage itself was cursed too.

Cursed too. She’d never really thought of her oddity as a curse before. Now, however, she felt differently. Maybe if she wasn’t like this, she wouldn’t be here.

Was that why her parents had seemingly had no love for her? Did they see her as unnatural and wrong as she now saw this orphanage? As unnatural and wrong as that raven?
(Her parents lack of love was another fact that she had yet to truly consider. Funny how this internal crisis gave her more clarity than she’d had in years.)

By now, everyone around her had gone their own ways. She was now alone before the library’s doors, once again.

A choked laugh bubbled up from her chest. Her quiet laughter echoed through the orphanage’s halls.

It wasn’t funny, but she laughed anyway. She wasn’t entirely sure why.

She remembered hearing Makoto order her to stay at his side, but she didn’t know where he’d gone. She hadn’t been paying much attention. Now that was a problem. More than likely, she’d be called defiant for it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

(Okay. Maybe they were a little bit justified in calling her that. Of course she was going to call out rules and orders when they had no real reason for their existence! What did they expect her to do? Blindly obey? Not in a thousand years.)

She didn’t really want to defy Makoto. He was one of the few caretakers that she held some respect for. Even so, she couldn’t exactly search the entire orphanage for him. Morning classes were bound to start soon, if they hadn’t already.

If they had started already, it’d be her first instance of tardiness at any of the orphanage’s daily events. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She supposed that she should head there now. Maybe if she distracted herself, she could convince herself that none of the morning’s events had happened. Again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

(Of course, that was impossible. She knew that well. She just needed a lie to tell herself.)

Taking in a deep breath, she entered the library.

She carried herself in a significantly more downcast manner than usual. Her immediate emotional crisis had faded, but she was clearly disturbed and distressed. Quietly, she took a seat, being careful not to catch the eyes of any of her peers.

mizton · Nov 26, 2022

1926

adelaide furse

locations

Bathroom > Wherever Arthur is

interactions

Arthur (

Coyote )

mentions

Mateo

Adelaide cleaned in relative silence.

With the children rustling into their classroom, the hallways outside were much quieter, save for the scuffling of the orphan's heels on dull floorboards - they'd have to polish that afternoon, it being Sunday & all.

So when her name was called, Adelaide jerked to a straight posture from her place on the floor. She'd missed two key details that morning & her ears were attuned to not make it a third, so she heard this call quite easily.

"Arthur?" Adelaide called out from the bathroom, approximating the voice almost immediately - there were few within Lockheed that spoke her name so kindly. Children tended to have a higher pitched voice & if it were Mateo, she would've heard his accent. Therefore, it was undoubtably that Arthur, so she reassured, "I'll be out in just a moment."

The sound of running water could be heard as she washed her hands & tidied up her appearance in the mirror. Then, the hurried clicking of her Oxfords announced her approach towards his location within the manor. She was in no way done with the bathroom, but she had mopped up that morning's bloodspill, so that would have to do for now; Adelaide would be back soon.

"Oh Arthur, it wasn't any trouble at all," At his smile, Adelaide couldn't help but offer her own, if only a bit unpracticed.

She preferred a flat brow, but the sight of Arthur tended to lighten her gloomy mien. It was once a week for only a morning at a time that he came &, every time he did, he delivered her something anticipated; it was only natural that she'd been classically conditioned to like his appearance. She could curate a kind impression of herself & maintain it for short bursts. With those she'd then lived with at all hours of the day for over 4 years now, it was hard to stay cordial. That & she'd been soft on a postman before; she supposed those memories extended a gentleness towards anyone of a similar profession.

"Is that there one of mine?" She asked, her voice lending a bit of animation in her anticipation of a parcel of hers.

code by @Nano

mizton - Adelaide Furse
Arthur waited by the foyer at the sound of her voice. It seemed the whole place existed without a spot on it in perpetuity and as Adelaide stepped out with her spotted mop stains and hastily tidied hair, he was reminded once more why the orphanage like so. He smiled softly, letting the dimples accompany him ever so slightly.

Arthur held out the package and shifted his weight. “Nothing escapes that keen eye of yours,” he said coyly. “I figured you spend so much time cleaning up after the children that I’d get you something to take your mind off things.” He held the sewing kit out to her. Arthur knew enough about her oddity to figure she had a knack for such a thing.
mizton - Adelaide Furse — 11/26/2022 4:39 PM
"I didn't — Oh, you shouldn't've," So this is a gift, Adelaide thought with a light, bubbling chuckle. She took the parcel into her arms. Gently, she peeled back a corner of the paper wrapping just to catch a glimpse of what inside was held. Satisfied in what she saw, she sat her weight back on her heels & performed one of those meaningful blinks women often did to show their appreciation.

"I was going to place an order tomorrow; you must've read my mind," She said, hugging the package to her chest — mostly to cover the flecks of mop water that spotted her apron. She added, "This is going right back to them, you know, what with Christmas approaching. Perhaps I should knit you something too."

The Owner
The Owner — 11/26/2022 5:34 PM

mizton - Adelaide Furse

"Adelaide Furse offering something that isn't a stern talking to. I'm honored," he teased. Arthur took a moment to consider his habit of delivering added gifts to her over the years and widened his smile.

He noticed the lass was showing signs of wear and tear as her time at the orphange went from weeks to months and on a chance day when the baker had a dozen extra pastries that morning, he elected to deliver them to her in the hopes of showing his appreciation for her effort. Pastries eventually turned into a whole collections of assorted gifts from hats to trinkets to books. Today was a sowing kit. He didn't know much about them but the floral embroidery that decorated the edges of the small container felt pleasant to him. It reminded him of Adelaide.

"I apologize if I've spoiled the excitement of Christmas for you with this," he said, taking his gloves off and pocketing them into his coat.
mizton - Adelaide Furse — 11/26/2022 6:24 PM
"Why, I should after this morning... Those men of yours don't discriminate, do they?" Adelaide gave another laugh, tickled by that growing grin of his. She wasn't truly chastising him; if she was, he'd know it, surely. She hoped so, at least. After so many years, an aphrension hung over her in these short interactions with those beyond Lockheed; there was still reputation to uphold with them. She can't recall a time she ever truly scolded Arthur & she hoped she never would; whenever she did, grew a humbling distance between herself & others. Nothing could be done about it afterwards, she felt, so she liked to prevent it whenever she could.

"All is well. There's still gifts to be exchanged on the day, after all. I should hope you've something to give me then too, if only a well wish." Speaking to Arthur felt easy, Adelaide thought. A calmness settled into her features, until a certain topic crossed it. At it, she straightened up from her usual slouch to meet his eyes more closely; she even held one his forearms, her parcel in the other. Almost breathlessly, she managed, "Abigail.

"How is she?"

The Owner
The Owner — 11/26/2022 7:59 PM
"I'll be sure to give them hell," Arthur assured her with a wink. Every now and then, he would see some uncomfortable current move beneath her eyes and it always pained him a little. When one represents the entity that prevents those staying at the orphanage from leaving, its hard to make friends.

He thrust the thought aside at the prospect of giving an even greater gift for Christmas. He had one in mind but he didn't dare reveal it to her for the moment. Many things needed to overcome quite a few hurdles before Arthur was sure it would come to fruition but nevertheless, he was optimistic about his prospects. When the tension in her face eased, Arthur let out a gentle exhale. That moment of relief was short-lived, however. That difficult question fell from her soft lips and punctured him deeply.

Abigial... What could he even say about Abigail? He knew. Of course he knew but it would break his heart for her to know the truth. So instead, his face became wooden and stiff, as if held in place for the purpose of keeping appearances in the hopes that she wouldn't seek to dig too far into the subject.

"I... well," his hand went to his side for a moment. "I was notified by the Professor last night that she fell seriously ill." His eyes darted about in search of any children. "We... well. Needed to take her to be treated. Things do not look very good for her." Arthur's voice became weaker and his face paler. The shock of admitting such a thing to Adelaide was crushing and he was finding it harder to breath.

His voice fell into a whisper, "T-the Owner... she called for Abigail..." Arthur trailed off. His usual stern, military trained visage broke as his eyes drifted towards the stairs, then back to Adelaide. Something in his mind clicked into place, however, and he took a deep breath. Arthur regained his composure and stood simply with an expression of distaste. All the horrors of war would never desensitize him to the horrors faced by children. He refused to be.

mizton - Adelaide Furse
The Owner — 11/26/2022 8:49 PM
Arthur supposed this was why the Professor was usually the one to break troubling news like this. He gently moved his arm away from her hand. There was still much he needed to investigate and Arthur couldn’t help but feel undeserving of any sympathy in the case.
mizton - Adelaide Furse — 11/27/2022 2:29 AM
Nothing new was said, was the realization Adelaide made to herself as she listened. This realization made itself known on her face in the form of her brows falling flat & her features settling into that gloomy, dollish face she wore. In hearing of the owner's involvement, she gave an inaudible gasp, though.

"Did she..?" Adelaide added a bit quietly, in a manner similar so as to say "oh wow" or "really?" It wasn't often that she heard anything of the orphanage's owner, so whenever she did, she tended to perk up. Still, even this couldn't distract her of the unknown state of Abigail.

What was she supposed to make of that? Things didn't look very good, did they? Reactively, she assumed the worse, but... Perhaps he'd only made a comment about her ill appearance? No child with a fever awful enough for hospitalization ever looked well. What had the nurses said? What had they given her? Who was there with her now?

A hot irrationality boiled within her, sending a shiver to her jaw. A frustration that would have to contain itself until Arthur left. All Adelaide could do was wait for an update, like everyone else. Her shoulders shrank as while Arthur's composure made its odd recovery; she supposed he'd forgotten himself for a moment. Honestly, she wouldn't hold it against him; he must've been the one to transport her, after all. As crooked as she was, she offered him a gentle soothing at his arm.

Only... for him to move it away. At this, Adelaide felt suddenly rather insecure. Her hand slotted itself against her heart, behind the parcel held to her chest, "Pardon me."

"Well then," Adelaide began, "I suppose all there is to do is wait. Forgive me for asking so suddenly. I suppose it was you that drove little Abigail, wasn't it? How very rotten for you..."

The Owner
The Owner — 11/28/2022 11:11 AM
Arthur’s shoulder broadened and his posture straightened to a formal presentation, as if retightening a series of screws inside his apparatus. His expression now calm. Subtly mournful, but calm.

“It’s part of the job we’re given,” his eyes glanced at the clock standing in the foyer. “I don’t wish to keep you but there is a new Caretaker arriving tomorrow. The Professor is expected to inform you all at some point. If you’d like, I can come by for some afternoon tea. See how things are settling,” he said, offering a warmer smile in the hopes of lightening the mood. Arthur felt it would be rude to leave Adelaide in such low spirits considering how hectic the day might have already been. As still as he was while awaiting those few seconds for her to respond, a part of him hoped just a little bit. That was a rare thing in his profession. And he hoped a little bit more that he could hold onto it.

mizton - Adelaide Furse
mizton - Adelaide Furse — 11/28/2022 5:09 PM
"There is, is there?" she mumbled this, still a bit dejected. A caretaker coming in would be sure to excite for a while, but... still, Adelaide thought of little Abigail & what she'd say to Colette. Perhaps she already knew by now, what with announcements at the beginning of classes.

Adelaide shook out as much of her somber ideation as she could, her frills bristling like animal's fur, to give Arthur his answer. "Oh sure, yes," she nodded with a smile that didn't extend above her nose, "The children always get a kick out of seeing you. I know I do." She spoke that last part quite honestly.

The Owner (fin!)
The Owner — 12/01/2022 5:23 PM
Arthur smiled. It was the best kind of smile. The one that didn’t demand much. Just the simple curl at the ends of his lips as he dipped his head lightly. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then,” he bid her farewell and started back out the door. In short order, the men gathered in the trucks and drove back down the road, becoming smaller and smaller specks within the forest.

mizton - Adelaide Furse (fin!)
mizton - Adelaide Furse — 12/01/2022 5:43 PM
yay! we did it! ^^

AmberV · Nov 27, 2022

Mateo Solinas

The grounds were bare.

It was a relief. He wasn't sure he could handle another hunt through the woods.

All that left was the orphanage. The ground floor was only so large, he was certain he'd find them relatively quickly. Stepping back inside, he hung up his overcoat next to the door and pulled off his boots. Mateo methodically tapped the snow from them before carefully leaning them against the wall, heels up, to dry. All the while, he looked up towards the stairs that dominated the foyer and the portrait that stood guard.

If the Owner had seen where the girls had gone, she wasn't giving him any hints.

No matter. He knew where to start. The other children were already in the library, attending to their lessons, so he presumed that they would have been quickly found if they were there. The kitchen, the breakfast hall, and the foyer also had enough people passing through to make the girls unlikely to be able to hide there. So that left their bedrooms.

Standing, he gave the portrait one last long look before beginning to make his way towards the hall and immediately turned to see one of the boys, Hank, knocking Collette's closed door. Scowling, Mateo made his way over, crossing his arms and fixing the lad with a stern look, "Cease your pounding and get to your morning studies, Hank. You're already late."

Location: Foyer-> Bedroom door
Tags:

dontPanic

Sybela

Feral
Mention: Cole, Gwyn, Hank

dontPanic · Nov 27, 2022

Hank Mason

Hank stopped obediently in response to the groundskeeper's stern command, partly out and respect and partly out of surprise—he hadn't even seen the man coming. He stepped away from the door, but made no move to go further. Respectful, but also steadfast.

"I was just going, sir. But I think something might be wrong. Can't you hear that?"

Hank was referring of course to the muffled screams, or perhaps sobs, that still emanated from behind the door. He realized that the wailing seemed to have a visceral quality, something that couldn't possibility be the result of some prank or minor injury. It was clear to him now that something truly was wrong. He looked the groundskeeper directly in eyes, a silent message that he felt this was serious.

"You might need me," he said simply.

Location: Bedroom door
References AmberV Sybela Feral

CeaserXIX · Nov 28, 2022

Quinn
- Entering the classroom, preparing himself for class
- His mind still raced from all the events of the day, leaving the boy stressed and irritable
-

Ghostiiys

Paperface

The immediate aggression of Frida surprised Quinn very little, having known the girl since closest to his first arrival here, having bonded with her over the similar events leading up to their presence in this accursed place. Though as the soft smile and lingering gaze of Doris fell upon him, he couldn't help but feel his face light up, pulling his hood further upon his eyes, hiding his face from the commotion, whilst attempting to deescalate the situation. "Come on, Frida, we'll worry 'bout it later, let's jus' get the day ova' with," he seemed to beg, pulling her by her arms into the classroom, his own anger beginning to peer it's ugly mug into his mind at Doris's words, knowing full well all these little things leaving her lips were nothing but lies. He knew what he saw, he wasn't crazy, nor stupid, and he sure wasn't going to allow anyone to make him think otherwise.

Upon finally getting Frida to simply enter the classroom, putting her in the seat next to him, he placed himself behind the desk, lifting his cowl enough to see the chalkboard, only to softly grown. 'Cursive, again,' his ever constant mind echoed, having practiced it long enough where he could write whole papers in the style, and yet with each new arrival, and each young mind entering within the facility, he was subjected to it over and over again, leading to the boy finally giving into the ever creeping feeling of rage and exhaustion, his leg bouncing as he listened to the scribbling of everyone around him, the noises seeming to grow louder and louder, his anger creeping further and further into his mind, before he finally decided he needed to escape, and escape he did, his eyes darting across the classroom, looking for the darkest corner possible, before finally locking in to a big enough shadow, the black tar seeping from his tear ducts, as he wisped himself deep into the shadows, entering into what they saw was nothing but the darkness, but to him, his own eyes and mind, felt like diving into a pool of inky black muck, hiding himself from the world, into his own realm of darkness, and once submerged enough, where only the void could hear, he let out his rage, the ink bursting from his socket as he cried out his ear piercing scream, the space around him vibrating, almost echoing, as he did, though ensuring the physical world was none the wiser.

Sunsmiter · Nov 28, 2022

Ozymandias
Location: Classroom
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Frida, Annai

"Yes, yes, yes that...." Oz muttered absently and not really paying attention to, well, to everything. "I'll fix it later..." Ozymandias' handwriting was, for the lack of a better word, chaotic. It was like a mixture of Greek-Arabic and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics mixed into one barely legible alphabetical slop. Technically readable of course, and he could indeed write quite a great deal better than what he commonly displayed, but what was the point? It wasn't exactly like Ozy to put a great deal of effort into something that barely caught his objectively short attention span.
When Annai entered the room the golden-eyed orphan smiled his usual grin and quietly waved, apparently finishing whatever he had started was taking up more of his focus than anything. He was, to be blunt, pretty much out of the loop entirely.

AmberV · Nov 28, 2022

Mateo Solinas

"I think not." Mateo shook his head, matching the boy's gaze with a firm look, "You don't pay that any mind. If anyone is in trouble, we'll make sure it's all taken care of." Stepping forward between Hank and the door, Mateo stretched out his arm, gesturing down the hall for Hank to go.

The boy was right, there was weeping behind the door. He could hear it clearly now. But there was no way he was letting Hank into that room, not with all of the strangeness this morning. With Abigail missing and the Owner's presence...It's not nighttime, and yet... If there was anything wrong in that room, he didn't want any of the children to see. And so he blocked the door and waited, patient and unyielding.

Location: Foyer-> Bedroom door
Tags:

dontPanic

Sybela

Feral
Mention: Cole, Gwyn, Hank

Ashy_OCdesigns · Nov 28, 2022

Ethel washed her face and then went to go find the professor, wherever he was. It wasn't urgent, but still, that didn't matter. She would wander the entire place if she had to.

And that's exactly what she did, which took a long time, calling out: "Professor! Professor!" As loudly as she could, briefly take quick glances into rooms and not finding him there. She eventually got very, very desperate, so she tried the front door.

To Ethel's surprise, and relief, because her legs were very tired from sprinting (she could run quite quickly from chasing people down), she found the professor.
"Excuse me, professor." She addressed the man, quite out of breath. "Do you have any good books I can read? I'm very...very....bored." She panted, her grey eyes looking at the man hopefully.

pings:

Coyote
note: she started running around the middle of the meeting with the professor, chronologically)

Coyote · Dec 3, 2022

Dinner Time - Day 1

The children cluttered the halls once more, having just returned from their afternoon free time outdoors, in the library, in their rooms or whatever else teenagers occupied themselves with on a Sunday. For those a religious inclination, prayer might have suited them. The portrait of the Owner remained still and stoic as footsteps echoed through the solemn evening halls of Lockheed Orphanage and the aromas of freshly cooked roast filled the air with a pleasant allure for the dining hall. The table was set and the Professor awaited patiently at the head for the Caretakers and Orphans to take their seats. Uriel and Edgar happily picked a spot beside each other and talked among themselves about the day's events, particularly that of the missing orphan, who's presence in breakfast, lunch, and now dinner was now absent. Abigail, who now seemed ill and in need of medical assistance, was missing, something not felt since 1921 for the Caretakers aside from adoption. As the seats filled and dinner was brought out, a certain tension lingered in the air. The Owner's watchful gaze, the suspicions surrounding Abigail's disappearance, and other more sinister secrets sat in a silent slumber. Not quite out in the open, but nevertheless present. Darkness had since fallen on the orphanage and thought the lights within its halls remained on for now, bedtime would come soon after and it was uncertain whether Abigail's sudden absence had caused ripples elsewhere in the orphanage. Only time will tell but for now, the residents of the quiet building in the woods were content with their evening meal and the all the delights that came with sharing it among their companions.

Time: 7:00-7:30 PM
Schedule Block: Dinner/Supper
Location: Dining Hall

Paperface · Dec 4, 2022

Doris Martin

What troubles you, Dory? It was that male voice again. The familiar tone distracted her from-- What was I doing? The sudden realization quickly broke the thousand-yard stare she had forced upon an innocent tray of roasted potatoes. She could only guess from the rising steam that they had not been in front of her long. A few minutes, at most. It always feels as if our Sunday is missing something. Something important. She let out a strained sign. It had been like that for as long as she could recall. Sunday evenings, specifically the dinner preparations, felt like her memory was lapsing. Had she taken out these potatoes herself, or was she merely staring at a tray someone else had set out for her? She did not know and had not known for years. It frustrated her endlessly.

Still distracted by the ongoing war waged upon her memory, Doris took up the tray of potatoes with mitted hands. It protected her hands from the residual heat, but not the stray utensils from her absentminded behavior. The corner of the tray nudged a prep knife off the working surface and onto the stone floor with a resounding clang. It was the second time today that sound had reached her ears. However, this time it seemed different. She could have sworn there had been another sound alongside the falling knife. Her pale eyes searched the floor. The focused gaze knowingly passed the knife multiple times. Still, there was nothing else there to be found. Doris put the tray back and lowered herself to pick up the sharp utensil. She had wrapped her fingers around the handle for a moment before dropping it a second time.

Her eyes snapped to the corner of the stove as if chasing the shadows that had made her jump. Naturally, there was nothing there either. “My apologies,” she called nervously into the kitchen, for whoever was within earshot, “It slipped through my fingers...” You have lost it. A female joined the male ghost in her head, blaming her as she always did. To which Doris quietly vocalized, “There was nothing there...” Not anymore.

Although the blunder with the knife plagued her thoughts for a while, the remainder of dinner preparations went off without further distractions. It allowed Doris the peace needed to push back the event into the depths of her psyche. The worrying thoughts locked away behind a presentable smile before she entered the dining hall. Even for the standards of the orphanage, the hall was luxurious. Carved hardwood decor dressed with beautifully intricate carpets. The prominent chandelier hanging above the stately dining table cast the entire dining hall in a warm, favorable light. “Good evening, professor. I hope you are well.” She addressed the seated man amidst dressing the set table further with plates of roast dinner. “We have a lamb roast with roasted potatoes and root vegetables for dinner. I hope it is to your liking.”

Having completed her duties regarding dinner, Doris joined the table shortly after bowing for the eldest at the head. Seating herself, she kept to her etiquette as she always did in the presence of the Professor. Her back straightened, and her hands neatly folded over her lap as she awaited the others before partaking in the meal.

- - - - - - - - - -
Location: Kitchen -> Dining Hall
Interaction: The Professor (

Coyote )
Mentions: N/A

Ashy_OCdesigns · Dec 4, 2022

The professor had more or less been no help, telling Ethel she had to go to class before quickly going out of the door and before Ethel could reply. Ethel, under her breath, had muttered that almost no one had actually been in class, so what was going on?
She went back to the hall where she had left her journals, having nothing better to do and still no idea what she should read.

It was dinner, and by Ethel's standards, she was very early. By everyone else's, maybe 2 minutes early. Anyway, Ethel sat down to hear about the menu items. Believe it or not, she brought her writing implements to see if she could catch anything else.

As supper was being served, Ethel looked at everyone and there was a certain tenseness amongst some of the children if not all of them. Ethel herself was almost scared enough to activate her oddity, and she was being attentive, staring at everyone and eavesdropping on the conversations. Her grey eyes were staring intensely at everyone in the room,

AmberV · Dec 5, 2022

Mateo Solinas

Mateo trudged through the snow, his workbag slung over his shoulder as he slowly made his way along the fenceline. Thank God that he had been wise enough to repair the posts before the ground froze for the winter, but some of the rails had come down and required replacing. He'd originally planned to take it easy today, it was the Lord's Day after all, but he was certain God would forgive him for doing work on a Sunday. He'd needed to reassure himself once more that there were no tracks through the fence, no sign of Abigail traversing where she shouldn't.

Perhaps it was more an old habit, but it was a good habit to have. After Georgie, Mateo had found that walking the fenceline and peering into the trees beyond made him feel just a bit better, even long after he'd given up the search proper. Like he was still always looking for the lost lad.

He'd repaired what he could for now, but the light was going to give soon and he knew he was already late for supper. Which is why it was a surprise to see Makoto standing alone in the cold by the old oak stump at the edge of the woods. Though, to call it a stump was a bit of a misnomer. While it was only part of the tree and very dead, hollow and stripped of bark by wind and rot, it still had a few feet on him.

There was little hesitation as Mateo changed his path to clamber over the fence and head towards where his fellow caretaker was lost in thought. He could afford to miss supper, but he wasn't about to let the younger man suffer the same fate. He stopped a few feet behind Makoto to stare up at the dead tree, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, "If you're looking for the dinner hall, lad, I think you're a tad lost."

Location: The Grounds
Tags:

Kovacs
Mention: Makoto

Fantasy The Case of Lockheed Orphanage for the Supernaturally Gifted

And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."

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And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."

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The Ferryman

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