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Post by icon on Apr 16, 2014 22:08:21 GMT -5
Two pairs of arms pulled the rest of their bodies up the top of the roof. Ris scrabbled for a foothold on Dywight Antiques' roof. "Nice vantage point," she couldn't help but comment. "You can see almost all the whole town from up here, might make a decent lookout spot." "Nah," Coena said. "Too unsafe- one bad gust of wind and you'd slip on a shingle. Make a mistake and it'd be goodbye, detective. Besides, you'd have to be a complete loon to spend all your time watching everyone from up here anyways." "...Yeah, I guess you're right." Ris had to concede. It was at this point, she began to monologue, that I realized that while our plan to evade the freaky ghosts had worked, the next phase was currently unsuccessful... in part because, so to speak, there was no next phase.
My thoughts drifted back to that website; no matter what I did, my mind kept returning to it like some sort of boomerang which was also magnetic, attracted to the power it held, to the potential it had to save the town..."Coena," Ris ventured, "I'm certain you remember how I told Christopher I wouldn't touch that site again." "Yeah." "And how he said that I shouldn't go rogue because that leads down a trail of dashed hopes from which I may never recover, whimsies lost to the cruel fate of an uncaring world." "Not in as many words, but yeah." "Well, I'm going rogue. Just thought I'd let you know ahead of time." Ris adjusted her hat to appear at a more dramatic angle. "Okay." "If anything goes wrong, just want to tell you that I told you ahead of time." "Mmmkay." We are standing with our backs to the edge, Ris thought as her fingers hovered over the screen of her phone. The waves below may bring us further than we've gotten so far, or they may dash our progress on hidden rocks. The only way to find out what will happen is to make a leap of faith.Sweet 'Woo I wish I had more gum right now.Ris took a breath, and then plunged. With Ris and Coena now on the roof of Dywight Antiques, the former decides to visit their mysterious website one final time. |
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Post by Draco on Apr 16, 2014 22:11:25 GMT -5
Jack and Rocky and Rocky have been staring each other down in the Mayor's Office for hours now. "NO, you can't become the mayor." "But you said it yourself, I'm the Mayor." "No I didn't! I called the rock mayor!" "You said Rocky." "A nickname I made up after looking at who the town voted for, nothing more." "Oh and this name?" "R. Rockfell." Rocky grinned while Jack stared back confused by it. --- Afe is in yet another unknown place. This time he was in a hole with a cow. "Moooooo." The cow mooed back. The two sat in the closed hole in the unknown place. --- Elsewhere on the beach, a large traveling trunk washes up. A ghostly head pops out and looks around. "Nope." It returns to the trunk and the water washes the trunk back out to sea. --- The children build more and more snowman as events happen... Jack and Rocky argue over who the mayor of the town really is. R. Rockfell....
---
Afe plays with a cow in a hole.
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A mysterious but familiar figure washes up onto the beach only to run away.
---
Kids build snowmen... |
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Post by Lizica on Apr 17, 2014 0:14:36 GMT -5
Piper had stormed from the Channel 24 Studio, broken camera in hand, and crushed a few more of Pratchett's security cameras along the way--just for good measure. Outside, she paused and took a staggering, faltering, deep breath. Salty ocean air filled her ghostly lungs, and she shouldered the tripod and hovered off to Sirensong Beach. Once she found Webster's burrow, everything would be right with the world. Of course it would. She was still shaking a little. The new, broken camera seemed at least somewhat operational, at least once Piper held it, opened it on the beach ramp, and tapped some pieces back in place. It was almost baffling how operational it seemed, in spite of its condition. Its lens was cracked in a dozen different places, the clunky flash made horrible noises as it was powering up, and the ancient traditional film inside was bent up and scratched. (By carefully examining the last of the negatives, Piper judged that whoever had last used this camera had had a field day taking photos of the backs of people's heads during a radio broadcast.) The film still burned when Piper tried taking a photo. But the nice thing was that she could just wind past the ruined film and try again, sometimes exposing the damaged film twice if she wanted to be thrifty. ...Why had Piper wasted so many good memory cards in the shop when she could have experimented with her boxes and boxes of disposable cameras? What a waste. She apologized to Snipe Hunt for her inefficiency. Piper still didn't have her aura fully under control. But at the very least, she seemed to be making headway. She could extend and use the tripod to prod the shutter release (from a somewhat shorter distance than with the awful broom contraption). It wasn't a great system, but if she kept practicing, she would still get her Webster photo. But speaking of Webster... where was he? Night had fallen, yet there was no sign of him. Piper had already checked the last burrow, the one by her Great Webster Trap--and although all his stash of items was still there, it had been otherwise empty. Though not yet fully confident with her camera-wielding skills, Piper folded up the tripod and followed the strange, scrabbling series of crab tracks she found all over the beach. It was as if Webster had been active all day long. There were tracks that lead from town (from after he had juggled her keys). There were tracks that lead to the Great Trap Burrow. There were tracks that lead to a dingy rowboat now left high on the beach in the wake of low tide. There were tracks that darted around fresh faux burrows--but the last fake burrow was barely six inches deep. (As if Webster had just...abandoned his digging while right in the middle of it.) Then there were tracks that swiftly turned and disappeared, now washed clean away by the high tide. There were tracks that stopped and shuffled, as if he'd had a long staring contest. Then, finally, inexplicably, there were tracks that headed back into town, vanishing onto the pavement. What on earth had Webster been doing today? That was when--as Piper hoisted the tripod after having reexamined the Great Trap Burrow--that was when Piper heard it. Stridulating ridges. Clicking claws. Piper swung around--watching as Webster scuttled from town across the sands towards her, making a huge ruckus. "What's the matter with you?" Piper demanded. "Do you have any idea how long I was looking all over the beach?" But Webster waved his claws wildly--at her, at the town, along the beach, at the ocean, back again, three times. And slowly, slowly, it dawned on Piper--...that for some reason...Webster...had been looking...for HER?The giant ghost crab skittered away, gesticulating frantically for her to follow. What. What was going on. What on earth was going on. Piper wasn't wrapping her head around this. It wasn't until Webster came back into view and furiously rubbed his stridulating ridges that Piper hefted Snipe Hunt and the new camera and hurried after him. Her cameras weren't ready, she still didn't have a grasp on how to take a good photo, she didn't even-- Webster was going underwater. "What? No way. I'm not following you down there." Webster made a frustrated motion with his eyestalks and mimed removing something from his carapace-- "NO, I'M NOT LEAVING SNIPE HUNT HERE, ARE YOU CRAZY." Webster's claws made a clacking sound as they flopped to his sides. With an irritated, impatient clicking, he then waved to the water's edge and swung his claws. He vanished under the water. Piper was left on the beach, fuming. Ooh. She didn't like it. This had to be another set-up. She didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. She didn't like this one bit. " Stupid crab," she grumbled heatedly as she dashed back to the dingy abandoned rowboat and gently rested Snipe Hunt there, protected in a life vest. "Stupid, stupid crab. I'll be right back. I'll be right back. Don't let anyone drag you off," she told her camera. It gave an appreciative jingle, and Piper left it there, regretting it more with each step. But chasing down Webster was one of life's necessities. A risky necessity, it had always been. At the water's edge, Piper glanced back at Snipe Hunt. Then down at her ghostly body and at the beat up, broken down new camera. Well. It had weathered worse, right? That's why she'd chosen a dead-eyed camera. Reluctantly, Piper phased through and trudged into the waves after Webster, lugging behind the broken camera and the tripod. Webster seemed surprised to see her--pleased, even. Satisfied that he was leading her ( on a stupid wild goose chase, surely, grumble grumble), he paddled down into the water. And down they went--for... far, far longer than Piper thought necessary. ...What the heck did he want her to see at this abysmal depth? Piper pulled out her ghostly cell phone for light and begrudgingly followed. This had BETTER BE WORTH IT. He was lucky she was dead. She worriedly inspected her dead camera; it seemed alright, all things considered. Then Webster stopped. Was this the bottom? It couldn't be, could it? The giant crab hunkered down behind a sizable rock and pointed discreetly ahead. Piper peered ahead. (Webster shoved the broken camera down in order to push her lower behind the rock.) At first Piper didn't see anything--though she distinctly felt something. But then-- "What is that?" she hissed to the crab. He raised both claws and definitively slapped the water in the direction of the chasm, sending up a little stream of bubbles. For it was a chasm. Conspicuously dark, even down here, darker and blacker and more empty than anything Piper had ever seen. For a long while, Piper and Webster simply crouched there staring in fascinated horror at this abyss of ultimate darkness. Not wanting to get any closer, Piper took the new camera, adjusted its broken lens, and inspected the chasm through it. The camera seemed to be operational, somehow--but it just didn't show anything; everything was dark; everything was darkness; everything was nothing. "Did...did something happen?" she asked the crab in a hushed tone. Webster held one claw level and used the other to perpendicularly jazz-hand its way upwards. Clearly something had emerged from this horrifying crevasse of doom. Piper stood back up. She was pretty keen to get away from here now. She could almost feel her ghostly energies being sucked into that well of nothingness--and it was making her shiver. Then--as she turned away--Piper had a thought. She clicked open the back of the broken camera to inspect the negatives. A small bubble of boiling hot air pwoofed up straight through her ghostly face, and Piper flinched. Black. The negatives were all black. All charred black, half melted, curled up and dripping and gurgling like someone had lit a flame underneath them and left them to simmer. Piper sputtered. She hadn't even snapped a photo this time. They may be underwater, this may be a dead camera--but she hadn't even snapped a photo this time. She looked up at Webster, who tread water before her. She stopped him and pointed incoherently at the melted film and made unintelligible noises of disbelief. Webster pointedly gestured at the chasm--then slowly raised his claws towards her, before turning the motion into an incredulous shrug. ...With a battle cry, Piper brandished the tripod and chased the giant ghost crab back up through the water's depths. But really, both of them were just relieved to get out of there. Piper practices with her new broken camera, but she still doesn't have the hang of it. In a minor role reversal, Webster has been looking for Piper. He leads her underwater to the chasm that Diana Pallada appeared from, and the two stare at it in fascinated horror for a while. ...Before Piper realizes the chasm has destroyed the film of her new camera, and she chases the crab back to the beach in frustration. |
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Post by Killix on Apr 17, 2014 2:47:33 GMT -5
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Post by Celestial on Apr 17, 2014 4:10:50 GMT -5
Pallada listened off to the side as Bardsley spoke with Cassidy, observing her reactions and making careful notes in her head. One of these days she needed to get a new notebook with with things moving as quickly as they did, she did not have time to go to a stationary shop, even if there was one here. It did not matter however. She was a trained professional, able to retain facts and knowledge about her experiments, observations and deductions if necessary. But as she watched and listened, an enormous grin spread over her face as Bardsley explained his plan. This was...genius. Well, not so much genius, any idiot could work out that a potion meant to bring people back from the dead could be used to bring somebody back from the dead but the way Bardsley went about it, manipulating and preying on people's weaknesses was such a perfect example of machievellianism that Diana could not help but admire it. Anthropology was hardly a subject as great as history but when it came to understanding people, it was in its element. Diana understood the ebb and flow of people, she knew what made them tick in the past thanks to a careful analysis of their actions and applied her knowledge of it to the now but she was never one to get into their heads unless they were a historical subject, she considered all others unworthy of interest. But more to the point, his manipulation was exactly what she would have done. No frills, no fuss, just threats. Admittedly, she doubted she could be as polite as him (no wonder he had gotten his professorship while she was still a doctor) but to find somebody who worked like that...was such a rarity. Once Bardsley left Cassidy to cry over her friend's body (what a waste of time, Diana thought. He did not seem like a worthwhile person to cry over), she floated up to Bardsley's side, smiling. "Masterful, professor. I admit, if you did not have my respect before, you have it now. You are definitely worthy of being my collaborative partner in a study in this town," she burst into laughter, still thinking of what she had seen. "Though it is a shame. You would have enjoyed being a ghost. You can observe all sorts of things and it is such beautiful, perfect, liberation. I would not give it up for the world. But I do hope we could still work together if you are alive. There is still so much more to this town that needs to be recorded, observed and analysed. The experiment is over and now it is time for the analysis of what happened here and what an impact this town will have had. And of course, I would love to compare the cases of this and Wafflenet," she grinned at him. "Besides, you must know how rare it is to find somebody who thinks as we do. Somebody who understands that morality should not get in the way of the progress of human knowledge." Diana admires Bardsley's plan and his technique in getting Cassidy to do what he wants. She tells him that he is missing out on ghosthood and asks if they can still be collaborators in research. People like them are rare and need to stick together after all. |
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Post by Birdy on Apr 17, 2014 4:53:27 GMT -5
Hermia walked slowly down Main Street, distracted with thoughts of everything that had happened the past few days. So many people had died - so many innocent people had died... Stupid, pointless deaths. Deaths that had no business happening. Deaths like-- (The screeching of tires. Crunching metal and bone. A scream--) NO. NO NO NO NO NO she was NOT going to think about that - not now. Not when... She grimaced and rubbed her head. The headache was coming back. Maybe she should stop by the Aifam Grocers and General Store, get some Tylenol, or something. Maybe then she could actually get some rest. Anything would be better than suffering through-- ...Oh, 'Woo - what now?Another mob? Seriously? Did the people in this 'Woo-forsaken town honestly have nothing better to do than form mobs and kill people during the off-season?! Gritting her teeth, Hermia kept moving forwards. Towards the Inn. Towards safety. And then, a scream. "LUCILLE!!"Hermia stopped in her tracks, then slipped into the alley between Stop. Glamour Time! and Stitch in Time Clothing & Shoe Boutique, watching the scene unfold before her, at the corner of Stalberry and and Fork. Lucille? Sister Lucille? ...Sweet 'Woo, they'd killed a nun. The mob dissipated after that, and Hermia saw someone - wait, was that Kylie? - run across the street, dropping to her knees beside the bloodied corpse. After a moment, she pulled the dead woman into her arms and began to sob. And then... Travis Richem appeared. “How could this happen?” he cried upon approach, staring at Kylie with widened eyes. “You killed her!”He began to spout more nonsense - jealous lovers, false remorse... the usual blathering. It was rather impossible not to hear, even at that distance. When he was finally done, another ghost - was that Christopher Dylans? - approached the "sobbing" man and tapped him on the shoulder, and appeared to be saying something to him that Hermia was too far away to hear clearly. Beatrix Devon soon came onto the scene - she ran to her daughter, wrapped her arms around her, checked to be sure she was okay. (Something stirred inside Hermia. A feeling - something she couldn't explain... She shook her head. There would be time to dwell on such things later. ) And then... Cheryl. Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. If anyone could send Travis Richem on his merry way, it was her. With everyone distracted by the scene on the corner, Hermia slipped out of the alley, crossed Jade Road, and walked over to and entered the Stallion Inn. She was still so tired... Mind now set on the idea of a nice, warm, soft bed, she made her way to her room, entered, and locked it behind her. She needed sleep.Hermia walks down Main Street, towards the Stallion Inn, and thinks about things only to get distracted by a mob.
She soon realizes said mob just killed a NUN, for the love of 'Woo.
She sees the mob leave. Then Kylie and everyone else arrive.
She's too tired to react much so she just goes inside the Inn to sleep. |
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Post by Selm on Apr 17, 2014 7:10:32 GMT -5
It had been a long week, and Khiran was hungry. The hunger pangs first began to strike when Khiran was making their way towards Siddhi's house. It was nothing overwhelming; only a small craving, a mild desire. And there just conviently so happened to be a little snack hopping its way across the snowgrounds in broad daylight, in the midst of all the murder and anarchy. Practically begging to be murdered. In fact, Khiran reasoned, a sudden death would put the poor thing out of its misery. Statistically, it was unlikely for it to survive the winter anyway, right? Predators hunting, diseases lurking, hypothermia, starvation. Anything could happen. Khiran disregarded the fact that they had not yet discovered how to manipulate their surroundings in their afterlife. They set aside for a moment the reality of being able only to observe, but touch nothing. Not their guitar. Not their sheet music. Not their childhood scrapbooks, not the amatuerly-sewn patches on their older brother's hand-me-down messenger bag, not the clunky clay guitar trinket given to them by Enna as a birthday gift back when she was going through a pottery phase. They forgot for a moment that all they knew how to do was painfully, vividly relive the scenes from their (short, uneventful, essentially meaningless, really) lifetime, trapped within the depths of their own memory. All they could do was think. There are tales of paranoid conspiracy theorists and doomsday experts that stay holed up in their safety houses with nothing to keep them company but rows of canned food and the sound of their own nervous pre-apocalyptic chatter. These people talk themselves to insanity, and the locals speak of them in hushed tones, uncertain. Khiran would have preferred this fate. You cannot talk yourself to insanity when your vocal chords are resting stagnant in the fluid of your corpse. You cannot feel the warmth of your tongue against the surface of your teeth, or the organic vibration of sound humming in rhythm with your heartbeat to let you know you are alive. As a ghost, you do not have the privilege of being able to endure the slow physical torture that comes with losing your mind. The only sound you can make is the illusion of sound, a white noise playing constant in the back of your mind, gradually eating away at your aura until your spirit is so raw that everywhere is Hell. But Khiran no longer had the energy to consider this. All they knew was it had been a long week, and they were hungry. khiran sees a bunny and they're like "wow dang i wanna do my weird ghosty touchy thing to that bunny AFTER I KILL IT because i miss the feeling of WARM BLOOD MWAHAHAHA" and that's basically it |
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Post by PFA on Apr 17, 2014 15:24:45 GMT -5
Not long after Professor Bardsley had exited Cassidy's room, Dr. Pallada appeared beside him, smiling with delight. She had mentioned that she would be following him, though admittedly he hadn't really thought about it until she reappeared. At any rate, she seemed to be pleased with his work, which was satisfying to him. Very few people ever took an interest in his... darker side, but he rather liked that she did. "Masterful, professor. I admit, if you did not have my respect before, you have it now. You are definitely worthy of being my collaborative partner in a study in this town," she said, letting out a laugh. "Though it is a shame. You would have enjoyed being a ghost. You can observe all sorts of things and it is such beautiful, perfect, liberation. I would not give it up for the world."Professor Bardsley chuckled politely, shaking his head. "Perhaps you may enjoy it, but personally, I don't think it's quite my style. It has been... interesting, to be sure, but I believe I could accomplish more while alive." "But I do hope we could still work together if you are alive," Dr. Pallada continued. "There is still so much more to this town that needs to be recorded, observed and analysed. The experiment is over and now it is time for the analysis of what happened here and what an impact this town will have had. And of course, I would love to compare the cases of this and Wafflenet." She grinned. "Besides, you must know how rare it is to find somebody who thinks as we do. Somebody who understands that morality should not get in the way of the progress of human knowledge."Professor Bardsley smiled at this. She really did think the same way he did, and it was so very fascinating. So appealing, even. He had always enjoyed watching society, observing the psyche of people who were so very different from himself, but this... this was new. This was someone he could relate to. And it was just so... thrilling, somehow. "I would be honored to work with you, Dr. Pallada," he told her. "While I believe, as a whole, we would be more effective alive, I'm certain the Chill of the Night—or Winter's Wrath, as the case may be—would have use for one with power over the dead, such as yourself." Professor Bardsley is pleased that Pallada likes his work, and tells her that the mafia could probably use the help of a powerful ghost like her. |
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Post by Jayeee on Apr 17, 2014 16:10:35 GMT -5
"Umm...Mr. Richem I think you should leave them alone right now." Travis turned around and placed his hands on his hips. He vaguely recognised the young ghost that had tapped him on the shoulder, but it took him a good couple of minute to fully remember that it was his long-lost brother whom the career pack had murdered. In fact, that had reminded him – he hadn't had the chance to brag about his escapades to anybody yet. Except for his audience of course, but the extras deserved to know as well. It was brilliant work. “How's it going, Markus? You know, if we hadn't killed you so soon, I could've taught you a couple of lessons about the ladies. Take this one here-,” he gestured to Claire, “she's just begging for some action. With me. Love drives people to do crazy thing, little bro, that's why i'm a free man.” He gave the boy a thumbs up. “But hey, at least now you can't torment any animals, am I right? Of course i'm right, but it wasn't all bad. I mean, my performance at Amy's funeral was pretty stunning. The perfect diversion. I mean, did you see the emotionality of it all?” He paused and thought about this for a while. “...Oh yeah, I guess you were too busy being murdered to see that. It was pretty fabulous though.” He turned to his audience. "Seeing the long-lost brother that you recently killed turn up behind you is pretty shocking, you know? But I just couldn't help myself - the kid needs me. I figured that if anyone can teach him a few things, it should be me." Travis leaned down and leisurely draped his arm around Markus' shoulder. The viewers loved familial relationships, especially the loving bond of brothers. This was gold. “I'll tell you what little bro, since we're both dead and all, why don't we just forget all of that? Hey, you can even join the next career pack, i'll show you how to really slice a throat good.” Before Travis could continue, he saw Fiona rush over to Claire. He wondered where her incestuous brother was. “It's fine, Fiona, it was a death of love! FOR ME!” he called. “Fiona, if your brother isn't satisfying your needs anymore, I have one you can borrow.” With one hand still over Markus' shoulder, he used his other to pat him on the head. “Just joking, kid, she'd never be enou-” “Leave. Now,” she warned. “I’m giving you one. Single. Chance.” Travis raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure telling me to go to your bedroom is such an appropriate thing to say in front of the kid, Tiffany? Really, I know you got jealous over my date with Elizabeth, but don't take it out on the toddler, here.” He looked down and winked. “Back in a second, Markus,” he muttered before disappearing into the ground. He reappeared behind Tiffany, placing his mouth next to her ear. “Word on the street is that The Travis Games will be restarting again very soon,” he whispered. “Wouldn't want you making empty threats that can't hold up to my knife. Not when we both know you'd so much rather beg me for my body instead, Tiffany.” In a flash, Travis was back at Markus' side. “Grown-up talk,” he explained. “I'll teach you about the lust for flesh when you're older.” Travis decides to bond with Markus, his long-lost brother who was murdered by the career pack, which he's a part of. He suggests they forget that he technically killed him and they start again with Travis teaching him some skills.
Their bro-bonding session is interrupted by Fiona and then Tiffany. He chastises Tiffany for trying to seduce him in front of the child, before whispering that The Travis Games are resuming again soon, so she should just stick to lusting after his body instead of uselessly threatening him.
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Post by Tiger on Apr 17, 2014 16:34:22 GMT -5
Travis talked some more. Cheryl was so, so tired of him talking - even death hadn't shut him up. In fact, death had only made him worse - Cheryl could hardly believe what she was hearing as the monster bragged about his performance during Christopher's murder, talked to his audience, offered to teach Christoper how to kill, and when Beatrix ran onto the scene, offered - Cheryl swallowed back her urge to take Travis down right then and there - he was too close to Christopher, she had to time this right. If Richem had ever paid attention to anything besides himself, though, he would have seen violent fire in the reporter's dark eyes as she issued her ultimatum. “Word on the street is that The Travis Games will be restarting again very soon. Wouldn't want you making empty threats that can't hold up to my knife. Not when we both know you'd so much rather beg me for my body instead, Tiffany.” Cheryl had no idea why in the seven hells Travis was calling the mafia killings The Travis Games, but she got the message. He flew back over to Christopher - but he wasn't quite as close as he'd been before. “Well, Richem," Cheryl said, striding up to the ghost. “You used up your chance. Leave.” She thrust her palm at Travis’ face, releasing the fistful of rock salt she’d picked up when she’d bent to “pick up her earpiece” from the walk leading to the Stallion Inn’s doorway. Cheryl throws rock salt in Travis's face. |
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Post by Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) on Apr 17, 2014 17:51:12 GMT -5
Travis starred at him. Christopher suddenly thought maybe this wasn't his best idea but he had to get Travis away. “How's it going, Markus?"Actually my name is Christopher" he mumbled. You know, if we hadn't killed you so soon,Christopher's hand shot up to his neck, touching the fatal wound. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. I could've taught you a couple of lessons about the ladies. Take this one here-,” he gestured to Claire, “she's just begging for some action. With me. Love drives people to do crazy thing, little bro, that's why i'm a free man.”"I don't think she's begging for action." Christopher told Travis, trying to be nice. He didn't want to hurt Travis' feelings or make him mad, he really didn't want to make him mad. Travis still seemed to think Christopher was his younger brother and Christopher decided to play along. If that was what Travis wanted, he could do that. He gave the boy a thumbs up. “But hey, at least now you can't torment any animals, am I right? Of course i'm right, Christopher had no idea what that gesture meant in the slightest. "Torment animals? I'm so sorry I didn't know... No wonder you..." he stopped. I mean, my performance at Amy's funeral was pretty stunning. The perfect diversion. I mean, did you see the emotionality of it all?”"No, I'm blind." Christopher mumbled helpfully, "But I'm sure it was great." "Seeing the long-lost brother that you recently killed turn up behind you is pretty shocking, you know? But I just couldn't help myself - the kid needs me. I figured that if anyone can teach him a few things, it should be me.""Uh, who are you talking to?" There was no one there. Christopher wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with Travis Richem, but there was something wrong. When Travis touched Christopher he flinched. He could feel him, really feel him. He started shaking. "Please... please don't touch..." he was muttering under his breath. The first thing he felt in a long time was the touch of a man who had killed people. “I'll tell you what little bro, since we're both dead and all, why don't we just forget all of that? "I'm not mad! I forgive you." Christopher reassured him, "We can forget all of it! Let's just go somewhere else and talk ok?" Hey, you can even join the next career pack"Isn't that from the movie?" Christopher asked quietly. He hadn't been paying attention but he did remember that word being mentioned in that horrible movie. i'll show you how to really slice a throat good.”"W-w-w-w-what" Christoper stammered. It felt like Travis's hand was gripping so tight, "P-p-lease, stop don't talk like that!" He was struggling to get Travis off him but failing hopelessly. Killing people. Slicing their throats. No. No. Stop it. "Please, let go." “Fiona, if your brother isn't satisfying your needs anymore, I have one you can borrow.”Christopher was still struggling in Travis's grip. He shivered. He felt cold. He wanted Travis to let go, right now. Right now. With one hand still over Markus' shoulder, he used his other to pat him on the head. “Just joking, kid, she'd never be enou-”"I don't want to kno-" Christopher started to say, his voice getting panicked, "I don;t want to know how to kill someone. I don't want to know. LET GO" Cheryl. Cheryl. Cheryl was here and she'd save him. Travis raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure telling me to go to your bedroom is such an appropriate thing to say in front of the kid, Tiffany? Really, I know you got jealous over my date with Elizabeth, but don't take it out on the toddler, here.”He thankfully let go of Christopher, but he went over to Cheryl. Christopher didn't have time to think, he was just shaking. He didn't want to know how to kill someone. He didn't want any of this. In a flash, Travis was back at Markus' side. “Grown-up talk,” he explained. “I'll teach you about the lust for flesh when you're older.”"D-d-don't, leave her alone, please" Christopher should have tried to get out of reach of Travis, but he was too shell shocked to move. The lust for flesh. Like human flesh like..? "N-n-n-n-no" Christopher looked at Travis horrified, "No NO NO NO NO... IT WAS A MISTAKE I DIDN'T MEAN-" He had been trying to hang on, not to cry, but he couldn't help it this time. "I DIDN'T, I WOULDN'T, EVER AGAIN NO- IT WAS" Then Cheryl saved him. She flung something at Travis. As soon as it was out of her hand Christopher backed quickly away from Travis. He went right to Cheryl's side. He forgot that he would go through her he forgot all that. He threw his arms around her waist and started to sob even harder. So much for being brave. Travis Richem is a giant jerk |
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Post by Avery on Apr 17, 2014 21:10:28 GMT -5
"I-I know mom... I-I... I love you too."As Kylie continued to sob, Bea ran her fingers through her daughter's hair-- that lovely hair, so bright and thick, so much like Bea's own. For a while she tried to ignore the looming ghosts, refusing to admit that they were real even now, even after she'd encountered so many, but the Richem loon was making a serious scene. As Kylie cried and Bea whispered words of comfort into her daughter's ear, the dead mafioso started to screech: " It's fine, Fiona, it was a death of love! FOR ME! Fiona, if your brother isn't satisfying your needs anymore, I have one you can borrow.”Bea bristled and glanced up at him. Fiona. How... how did he know that name? He'd call her it the other day, but before then... it was so long ago. So very, very long ago. It seemed like another life practically, wholly distinct from this one here in Aifam. That was her life down in a warmer place. Her life with a loving husband and a child-- but a different child. Bea's stomach pinched. Since the start of the murders, unwanted memories had washed over her frequently-- snatches here and there-- but as she embraced her despondent daughter now, she thought about the past willingly. She did not shove it away. She thought about that morning. That morning before she was Bea Devon at all. It was December, bleak, and cold. She was young then, only seven years older than Kylie was now. And... she was happy. Married to the love of her life. Working at her dream job: a literature teacher at the local high school. Bea had always loved literature-- from childrens' fiction to the romantics to bulking historical novels. She breathed fiction, she lived poems, she devoured words and stanzas and other fantastical worlds. And her little girl-- her yellow-haired beauty-- well, she'd introduced her little girl to literature from the start. Had even named her after one of her favorite poems, though her husband had laughed that people might tease her. And she read to her. Every night, every day. The Cat In The Hat-- James and the Giant Peach-- Where The Wild Things Are-- The Tale of Peter Rabbit. The little girl had loved that one the most. She'd sit in Bea's lap, soaking in the story; and when Bea was done, the child would look at the book's cover-- running her little fingers along the gold-lettered font... tracing over the letters: the title and the author's name. Beatrix Potter"Beatrix," she'd sound out breathlessly.
"It's a lovely name, isn't it?" the woman who would later take on that name-- the woman who'd run from everything, but couldn't completely let go of her sweet girl-- would say back, a smile in her voice.
And then that morning... that bleak December morning...
Twenty years later, Bea's throat still hitched when she thought about it. Her peaceful sleep wrenched by the sound of that little girl's scream tearing through the wind. Kylie had been sobbing hysterically since Bea's arrival to the scene, and now Bea joined her. Realizing how close she'd come to losing this other precious girl today. Realizing that for twenty long years she'd been mourning for that fair-haired beauty, and numbing herself to the pain of it with vodka and gin and tankards of beer, and all along she'd been missing out on the child she still had. The child who'd come later-- not expected, not planned, but... then again, the best things never were. She had been hiding. The woman who used to be called Fiona-- who'd run away in a panic when she'd discovered her pregnancy as her marriage imploded in the wake of the loss of that little blonde girl-- who'd spent two decades trying to hide it all away.
She hadn't ever really hidden it, had she? True, she'd closed herself off to the world... but in the process, she'd closed herself off to Kylie as well.
She could no longer hear Travis Richem's delirious words. All she heard instead was the beating of her heart, and the beating of Kylie's. Kylie, who was covered in blood and screaming in agony-- but who was alive. Who was still here. Who'd always been there, and yet...
"Kylie," Bea murmured, running a finger along her daughter's cheek. "I think... I think it is time to tell you about Lenore."
Bea reveals her traumatic past! (Narrator Note: Round eight will start tomorrow afternoon, and will probably entail a time skip. Therefore, if you have pressing matters to attend to, do so before then! (The Morty hunt will continue in the next round by the by, so no murdering him. XD)
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Apr 17, 2014 21:21:02 GMT -5
(This is a Diana and a Fluffle post ok get ready things are about to get SUPER CUTE IN HERE BRACE YOURSELVES)
“Go forth, noble steed!”This was no time to focus on makeovers and pretty bows and getting to eat the most luscious of fabrics. Her rider was right. Although Fluffle did not consider herself noble, she was in fact a steed, and was required to go forth! Fluffle whinnied and reared up on her hind legs, nearly throwing the poor fellow off of her unless he was gripping her mane tightly. And then she saw it and her ghostly stomach rumbled at the same time... Surely he had another giant blue candy cane somewhere? Those didn't seem so uncommon, especially in a fandom she'd seen that involved a guy with a scuba diving regulator covered in a black suit saying "Look, I am your father." Fluffle snorted. No guy in a black suit was her father, that was for sure. She had sheep blood in her, but no space-guy blood in her as far as she knew. Was her rider her father? He looked about 15 years older than her...hm, couldn't be. There was no family resemblance to be seen. After galloping several yards with this in her mind, she stopped short, throwing her rider into her fluff. After giving him a sheepish glance of apology, she noticed that he'd held the giant blue candy cane right in her face! If that wasn't a sort of reward, Fluffle didn't know what was. Winston, having received a faceful of fluff, choked and spat. Apparently, ethereal fluff could get stuck in a ghost's mouth. And nose, he amended, a few sneezes later. Wait, what, she'd stopped? Winston pressed forward again, but the steed seemed nonresponsive. Frustrated, he pressed harder, but it looked like the game was lagging. He waited a few seconds, tapping his foot impatiently. Maybe the controls were broken? Then - what was she doing? How could she twist like that? This wasn't an idle animation! Winston screamed in horror as the fluffy steed turned around and nommed his trusty lightsaber! Fluffle glowed bright blue for a moment as she consumed the glowing candy cane (which tasted like the non-artificial kind of blue raspberries and the artificial kind of rainbow with just a hint of the Force)... And then she swallowed. “How could you!” he wailed. “I trusted you!” Fluffle blinked. Maybe it wasn't a gift. The horse stared at him with big, quivering eyes, then ‘pbbbblt’ed and gently deposited the hilt on the ground. Wait, what? Oh – silly NPC, didn’t have a working Eat package. “Uh, thank you?” He leaned over to pick it up. “Ew, ghost horse drool.” He turned it on to make sure it still worked, and the blue light hummed to life, evaporating the ethereal spittle. "Stupid glitchy package behavior," he muttered to himself, but pet the soft blue horsie anyway. This Resist Frost fluff was pretty nice, actually. Fluffle's ears went flat, but she was reassured that he was not mad at her. Nice rider, nice rider... "Good noble steed. Now! Onwards for great justice!!" He hit the forward button that was sure to be hidden somewhere in her mane. Everything was so covered in fluff that it was hard to find the right controls, but she was moving, so it had to be working. Fluffle silently clip-clopped away from the theater, but then stopped and pricked up her ears. She could have sworn she smelled the familiar scent of checkered fabric and batter on the wind... was it truly...? No, someone must have been baking a cake somewhere. She felt her heart sink a little bit at this realization. Winston squinted. This mount was fast, but seemed to run out of energy quickly. He could see a moving mob of NPCs in the distance, but the fluffysteed was still recharging. He wished he had a sniper rifle or a helmet that included a zoom-in function. Aifam's graphics were amazing, he'd grudgingly give it that much. But what good was that when the action was too far away to see? It was like one of those map-less Mass Effect 2 planets all over again! Fluffle's ears perked up again. Was that - Ooh! In the distance! It looked like there was a fun game of tag going on! Boy, there sure were a lot of players after that guy - she was glad she wasn't 'it' right now! Wow, this town sure was a lot of fun. Maybe they even had room for an extra player? With a happy pbbblllt, she sprinted off after the mob, her rider shouting with excitement. ...Who was this Epona, anyway? |
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Post by PFA on Apr 17, 2014 22:55:58 GMT -5
Cassidy groaned, massaging her temples as she agonized over her notes. This potion was so... complicated. She could see the logic that went into it, and poring over her chemistry books was helping, but it was so advanced. Honestly, she wasn't even sure it was possible to modify in the way Bardsley was— No. She had to do this. It had to be possible... for Jonathan, if nothing else. "You don't have to do this for me, Cass."Cassidy gasped, looking up from her book at the sound of the voice. There stood... oh 'Woo, it was the ghost of her best friend, Jonathan. He was floating a foot above the air, looking down at her with a concerned frown. "Please, don't let him do this to you," he pleaded. "I don't care if I don't come back. You have to fight back." "No, I... I can't," Cassidy muttered. "If I don't do it, he'll just find someone else to kill. Shantelle, or Susie, or..." She sighed, massaging her temples again. "If I do this, he'll let us live. Maybe... maybe this is the only way I can help." "Bringing the mafia back wouldn't be helping," Jonathan pointed out. "Even if they let us live, they're going to take over Aifam Cove." "We could... maybe we could escape," Cassidy suggested. "Maybe I could use the potion on someone else afterward. I don't know. I'm just... I'm so sick of death, Jon. I have to try." Jonathan was silent, not sure how to respond to this. Cassidy was so determined, so set on making things right, even though the world around her was falling apart. She wanted so badly to help, but this... was this really helping at all? Or was she just telling herself that it was so she could feel better about doing it? The time passed in silence. Cassidy continued going over the notes, slowly starting to make sense of it all. She took a strange sort of confidence in this, scribbling down some notes of her own. She just... she just might be able to figure this out. She could do this. It was too bad that the victory left such a bitter taste in her mouth. Cassidy works on the potion. Jonathan's ghost appears to her and tries to convince her not to do it, but she believes doing it would be the lesser of two evils and proceeds. |
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Post by Celestial on Apr 18, 2014 3:38:57 GMT -5
Liberty or death was the slogan of many a country struggling for independence all over the world but they never realised you could have both, Pallada thought. Perhaps this would also make an interesting research topic...though her speciality was the struggle and breakdown of a society when introduced to a chaotic element such as serial murders. Maybe when she exhausted her research on that, she could move on. After all, now that she was free, she had forever. "As you wish, Professor Bardsley. Normally I would try to convince you how wrong you are but you seem to be an intelligent man and I admit, living does have its perks. But after spending so long trapped in the blackness, with no theorising or new research to occupy my mind, I feel alive. I remember what I was like in life and as a ghost, I don't have to pretend to be normal. This is my natural form," Pallada suddenly burst out laughing at the thought. However, her face morphed into a smile at what Bardsley said next. "Power over the dead? You flatter me, Professor," she grinned. "But I would be glad to assist both you and Winter's Wrath if it means that I get to observe the fallout and have the pleasure of collaborating with you. So, until your student comes through with the potion to revive your dead colleagues, would you care to finish observations with me? We left just as the mob had turned on one of their own, it would be fascinating to see how they react to her death. Of course, all reactions to death are similar but there are always tiny variations and the effects on those left behind. Though my hypothesis is that like most deaths, all that will happen is impotent mourning. Considering how many people have died in history, if all deaths produced grand consequences, history would be even grander than it is now." ---- Lucille had acquired everything she needed. Sister Meredith had the spare lighter as she expected and the perk of being a ghost was that walls were not a problem for you. She managed to slip in without anybody noticing her but she could not get through the door with the lighter. So instead she tossed it out of the window and got out. As she moved through the church though, she saw the other sisters giving her door nervous glances as they walked past it. They were probably going to get in there eventually, once they realised that Lucille was not coming out. And once they did, well, they would find her missing. It would certainly be a mystery where she had gone but she doubted the sisters would suspect anything. They would probably assume something nice, like she had been taken by the Lord Woo on a grand mission. In a way, that was true. Just in case, Lucille went into her room and dug out what little evidence she had there of her criminal life: a few weapons, a few bottles of alcohol, money, delivery schedule and the distribution map. She picked them all up in her arms and climbed out of the window with them as she had done when she went to the movie theatre. From there, she also grabbed the lighter she threw out of the window and went down to the beach with the things. Lucille took her usual route to the cavern where she kept her stash, being careful not to be noticed despite the unusual array of floating objects in front of her. However, stranger things had been seen in Aifam, especially now. Nobody would think much of it. Once she got to the cavern, the real work began. It did not look like the crab was there, which was good. She did not want him to be hurt by what she was about to do, though it was likely that he would be quite disappointed with what she was going to do. But now that she was dead, she had no choice. Lucille threw down her pile of things near the disguised crates of bottles and dug through them all. Eventually, she found what she was looking for: the crowbar that she used for opening the crates and sometimes keeping overly overly inquisitive wildlife/people away and a battery-powered morse code radio transmitter. I AM COMPROMISED. END OPERATION. AIFAM NOT SAFE. DUMP CARGO. FIND NEW JOBS. she signalled to all her operatives before throwing the transmitter into the pile and picking up the crowbar. She sighed as she looked over the crates. This had been her work ever since she had come to Aifam. Over fifteen years she had been doing this and she had acquired quite a sizeable amount of money, power and prestige. Her ring was pretty large, extending out from Aifam to the coastal areas beyond and into the large towns inland. If you needed fine booze for a cheap price in this area, Lucille was the one to go to. Did she ever think what she was going to do if she died? Not really. She had been careful not to attract the ire of any other criminal sect, staying under the radar or in their favour. Besides, her cover was good. Nobody ever suspected the nun. People under her got killed but never her. But even if she had a plan, she could not continue, not with the mafia in Aifam. They would never get her things. Who knows what they could do with it? So, with her teeth gritted in determination, Lucille brought the crowbar down onto the crates, the bottles, the suitcases full of money and weapons that she had stored, boats, everything that had comprised her operation was smashed to pieces. The entire cavern reeked as the smell of fine alcohol, fuel, gunpower and steel mixed together into one bouquet. Once everything was smashed up and scattered, Lucille threw the crowbar to the side and it clattered against the rocks. She took out the lighter from her ghostly pocket, where it had been hanging in the air uncomfortably and lit it. The flame flickered in the breeze. She threw it into the thick of the alcohol, boat fuel and money pile before turning away. It caught fire immediately. The resulting explosion was powerful enough to collapse the cavern. Lucille walked through the flames casually. Being a ghost, she felt the flames and heard the noise but it was hardly uncomfortable for her, even if it would have killed her instantly had she been alive. Fire, black smoke and rocks tumbled down around her but she simply passed through it. "Take that, you [bleep]." There was no way that anybody in Aifam could not have possibly heard it or seen the fire and smoke pouring out of the collapsed cliff face. They could interpret it as they saw fit but Lucille saw it as the opening salvo in her war against the mafia, a war which would begin in earnest. The town had been hers. She was not going to let them win completely, even if it meant burning and salting her metaphorical fields. With that out of the way, it was time to go back to the Inn and see Kylie. It was not fair of Lucille to keep her in the dark. She needed to know that she was not alone. That she and the rest of the good people of Aifam had a guardian angel. Or as close to an angel as they could get. Pallada muses on freedom and tells Bardsley that while she will not try to convince him that death is best, she feels best dead after all she has been though. She then suggests they go watch the fallout of Lucille's death, though she theorises that it will have no consequences.
Lucille blows her stash up so the mafia doesn't get it and walks away, because cool gals don't look at explosions. She swears to sabotauge the mafia every step of the way and goes to see Kylie. |
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