The Art of Searching [Finished]

[Dark]

The entered through the servants' entrance: a narrow, dark archway that ended in the inner-courtyard: detailed by a fountain and small, withered garden that might have been charming if it weren't for the forbidding shadow cast by the four tall walls that entrenched it. Wary of onlookers from any of the numerous windows and balconies that peered down on the courtyard, they skirted the outer edge.

The hallway they finally entered, tense and silent, was dark--just like the rest of the house. With the exception of a well-oiled back gate, they hadn't seen any signs of inhabitation thus far. The candles placed along all the walls weren't lit, and with the exception of a fairly modern looking kitchen--the freshly baked sweet rolls that Hadyn took it upon himself to sample the first actual clue of inhabitation--there didn't seem to be electricity anywhere in the house.

[Kiki]

Bee and Dark receive 1 token each, to be redeemed in Ashwin's Shoppe. This will automatically be added to your recorded totals in the shoppe. Congratulations, and keep up the good RP!

[Bee]

The house was ancient and remarkably unprotected. There were paintings on the walls, eerie portraits of wrathful faeries and dismal landscapes, done in soft violets and grayscale. They were compelling in their oddity; Ezra had never seen anything quite like them.

Then something strange happened. The pictures shifted, as though made of mist, finer and softer than what curled at Freakshow's feet. Ezra had only a moment to puzzle over what the devil was going on before the smoke-like tendrils twisted into objects that were hard and sharp--and hurtling towards them.

"Down!" he told Freakshow, while throwing himself at the floor. The ice spikes flew over their heads and embedded themselves in the opposite wall.

He lay on the plush rug for a moment, wondering what was going to try to kill them next, when the question was answered for him--the rug collapsed as though there was no floor beneath it at all.

[Dark]

Hadyn heard Ezra's warning and let his knees buckle, letting gravity drag him down and out of the way. He rolled as he hit, both to cushion his fall and to maybe see what had triggered the trap. He'd rather they avoid nearly getting impaled in the near future, if they could help it. Before he could discern any definite cause, though--

The floor gave out.

He let out a startled curse, and fell. Air whistling past his ears, brushing his fur the wrong way. And fell. Murky darkness; nothing but Ezra and himself. And... continued to fall.

Panic faded gradually, "Esmeralda... do you feel as if something is amiss with all this?"

He spread his arms wide, using the friction of air to slow the maddening spin of his descent, and he finally found what he thought might be an upright position. What a curious sensation...

[Bee]

There was something very odd about this indeed. Not just the fact that they had fallen through a floor. The fact that they kept falling was even more unusual. Ezra was well-acquainted with oddity, but this went a bit beyond the pale.

But there was little to do for it. They were falling to their deaths, and any moment now they were going to crash into the ground, orange and purple splatters of Freakshow and Ezra, and that would be the end of it. Squish. Splinter. Explode. Roll credits. Not an entirely unsatisfying way to go, all things considered.

He eyed Freakshow. He was not sure what people did in their last moments. People seemed fond of confessionals. I slept with your wife. I slept with your bandersnatch. I was an assassin working for the Courts. "Anything you would like to get off your chest before it's crushed into organ and bone jelly?"

[Dark]

Esmeralda seemed to have the unerring ability to take a dire situation and utterly obliterate even the smallest whimsy of survival. Haydn almost appreciated it, maybe even admired it a little.

And if there was any time to air old laundry, doing so while plummeting through a seemingly endless abyss towards one's nearly inevitable death seemed to be a rather sensible thing to do. All things considered.

"I've slept with my cousin. Twice. Once when he wasn't entirely consenting--and then I fucked his sister in front of him." It was odd, saying it out loud. Caught up in the moment, it hadn't seemed wrong, and even now, the fact that he'd done it didn't bother him in the slightest. It was more the fact that it should bother him, "I'd probably do it again, given the chance. I don't love him, or even particularly like him. I just like sex. Love it. But--I just don't have any control when it comes to sex. I mean, I realize I'm under the influence of rampant teenage hormones, but what the fuck?"

[Bee]

Ezra quite sincerely had no idea what the fuck. His own sexual experiences were quite limited. He had tried it; it had not particularly excited him; after the first few times, he felt very little desire to go out and make it happen again.

He had even less experience when it came to the matter of sleeping with one's relatives. He presumed this was frowned on by most, but what Freakshow did in his spare time was of little worry to him. Though the consent issues and seeming sex addiction did seem a bit troubling. He wondered what compelled the boy to his all-consuming nymphomania.

"I believe many teenage boys are like you. It will pass." He paused. Since he was going to die anyway, there was no point in concealing it: "I was once a very popular singer. Emotionally hardcore, as my fans called it. I am quite thoroughly ashamed."

[Dark]

Esmeralda wasn't someone easily categorized, and Hadyn had the feeling that a person still wouldn't have any better clue whether they'd known the weasel ten days or ten years. Of all the things that Esmeralda could have said, though, Hadyn hadn't really expected something quite so...so... there were really no words to describe the level of bafflement that Hadyn was experiencing.

The world had suddenly taken to spinning confusedly, though whether that was because Esmeralda was totally off his rocker or that they were still free-falling, Hadyn wasn't entirely sure.

"You were in an Emo band? ...seriously? Groupies and everything?"

He felt like he was upside down again, and he flailed to right himself, "I considered music, once. Mum was afraid I'd be burned at the stake for satanism, though, and that was the end of that."

He sighed, "Think we'll hit soon?"

[Bee]

"I hope so," said Ezra, though existing in a state of perpetual near-death was proving a very interesting experience. He couldn't quite define the feeling, but there definitely was one. Perhaps he would need to get himself nearly killed more often. "And yes. I had all the trappings. It was exceedingly depressing. My followers were very...cult-like in their devotion. They had many peculiar rituals to honor me. Eventually I managed to disappear into anonymity, and I hope to remain in such until--well, until my demise, actually, which should be coming shortly, so I suppose my mission has been accomplished."

Finally, they hit the ground. It was not the dramatic splash of blood and entrails that he had originally anticipated. It was a pair of moderately hard, muted thuds, a spasm of pain from landing awkwardly on his back, and that was it. He was still very much alive.

He looked at Freakshow. He looked up, and could see the ceiling situating itself over the trap they had fallen through. It was perhaps twenty or thirty feet.

And it was really quite puzzling.

[Dark]

Hadyn stared up at the ceiling with no small matter of puzzlement--he'd landed on his rump and was rather unwilling to move anytime soon, leery of repercussions--and wondered idly what had caused the space-time-continuum to become so distorted that a fall that should have taken a matter of mere seconds seemed as if it had taken minutes, maybe even hours.

"Well, that was interesting. Sorry your grand death of anonymity was ruined, and all..."

He wiggled his spine, only feel a small tingle of discomfort, and rolled up into a sitting position. He looked around. They were in a small, square cell with no source of illumination besides what was filtering down from the trapdoor above their heads. There was a single, metal door. It was locked, and wouldn't budge no matter how much Hadyn tugged at the handle.

Regaining his feet, he strode the outer edge of their prison, looking for another way out.