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Post by seraaches on Feb 6, 2011 0:58:48 GMT -5
For all that H.P. had a Corvie, or two, or three, depending on how you defined Corvie and accepted full or half as being art of the equation, for a sibling, and that his mother was Corvie, and that they were-- at least distantly-- related to a family of absolute nutters-- though he be still unaware of this-- H.P. had led a relatively normal life. No blood, no gore in their household. He was basically entirely unaware of death on any sort of intimate level.
This joyful ignorance was no more.
He stared, his tentacles falling lax in utter and tremendous horror. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this and his mind went from normalcy to horror to panic in the span of mere seconds. All that lacked was something to cause the panic to explode from the trembling numbness in his extremities.
He heard a voice. The boy flew. The wrong way. H.P. was scrambling up the stairs, but entirely unaware of the fact, even when he bolted into a hallway and desperately tried to open doors. He flung open one, finally, still not cognizant enough to realize that it was the only one unlocked.
His wild eyes cast about the room desperately, searching for another mark of horror and hoping desperately to find none.
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Post by Bee on Feb 6, 2011 1:15:37 GMT -5
Oh this was massively, terribly, overwhelmingly bad. For a moment he did nothing but stare, as he had stared at the bodies, as the boy he was talking to had a much more fight-or-flight response to the situation--and ran in the opposite way he should have, directly up the stairs.
"No! Come back!" he yelled after him, because being alone with bodies was incalculably worse than being with someone, and neither of them had any idea what was up those stairs--people had been murdered. It couldn't be anything good. He forced his body into action, and sprinted after him. He wanted to get out more than anything, but--but he couldn't leave anyone else in there, especially at the mercy of whatever terrible thing might be upstairs. The boy had a sister. He had sisters. They all had to go home to their stupid sisters.
"Buddy system," he said, and repeated itself like a manta as he rushed up. "Buddy system, buddy system, buddy system..." A door was open, and he ran to it, immediately coming upon his tentacled friend.
"Buddy system!" he shouted at him, accusatory, because that was the way his fear and worry had chosen to manifest itself. He forced himself to breathe, panting away his stress. There wasn't anyone up here, thank the light. Just him and the boy. Just him and the boy and a desk. He walked over to the other child, slower, more careful, and said, haltingly, "Come on, it's--it's okay. We've gotta get out and tell someone about this."
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Post by Nathalia on Feb 8, 2011 20:59:03 GMT -5
((The room they stand in seems devoid of life, though there may be more to it than that, take a look around, it's better than going back downstairs to all those corpses, isn't it?))
~Nathalia
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Post by seraaches on Feb 9, 2011 0:18:42 GMT -5
(( Sorry, Nathalia, things have been so blah here. x__X;))
It took a few minutes, but H.P.'s breathing slowed and he was finally able to think clearly. He blushed brightly at Nephy's accusatory glare and pointed statement. "Sorry," he said in an undertone. "But, uh, at least. . . we're. . up here." And stuck with the dead bodies downstairs. He shuddered violently at the thought and began to look around. He just couldn't even think about it.
"Maybe there's a clue here about what. . . about. . . maybe. . . there's a clue." He couldn't bear to think about it. A swift glance around didn't really make him interested. He moved closer to the desk, trying to appear busy and useful. He glanced across the top, opened all of the drawers and finally noticed the bag in the corner. He glanced at Nephy and ventured closer. In for a copper, right? He'd already checked the desk.
He carefully pulled out the picture, blinking in surprise at the picture. It was a strange place to keep it, he thought, and he studied the image for some clue, some divine sign. He. . . wasn't really getting anything.
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Post by Bee on Feb 9, 2011 19:33:16 GMT -5
Nephy had some pretty deep and clinging doubts that this sparse room was going to supply them with any useful revelations, but he had the suspicion that that wasn't really why the other boy wanted to look. Anything to avoid passing by the scene of the crime, probably. He could sympathize. He dearly wanted to inform some kindly and fortuitously appearing police officer about it and take the matter out of his own hands, but he didn't particularly want to pass those poor people again to do it either. He gave the boy a nervous glance and followed him to the desk--they could take a minute or two to cool down, right?
If there was anything in the desk that could link anyone or anything to murder, it had cast an invisibility spell on itself. There were writing materials but no one had actually written anything--or if they had, it was gone. He picked up an old, attractively-made fountain pen and fiddled with it absently as he opened the drawers.
The bag the boy opened might have been some clue, if they had any other evidence to connect it with. A picture of an old man and a little girl. It was admittedly a strange thing to leave lying in a bag in a room. Maybe the little girl had grown up and killed everyone, keeping the photo as a memento of her happy non-crazy days. Or maybe it was the old man, after some Selkie had killed all his family, including the little girl.
Both theories were pretty thin, and the thoughts were too morbid to dwell upon for very long. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the room's small window--if there had been an awning or something below it, he would have suggested making a little jump. Of course he had no such luck. He tapped the pen on the sill.
"We can give the picture to the police too," he said hopefully, trying to give the venture some constructive value. "Maybe they'll know who they are!"
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Post by Nathalia on Feb 9, 2011 19:47:20 GMT -5
((The photo has something written on the back of it.
Suvius Lampoon; Granpa Ambert, Docker's Pond.
Under it, in untidy scrawl unlike the clear writing of the names, is the following; Selkie Lakes, Tamis, keep the package.
A little piece of something was lying at the bottom of the bag, tucked into a corner in a piece of old paper.))
Worm that Walks (2): What an odd little thing...looks like part of a mask carved from bone and glass fused together. It tingles when touched and if held for too long an eerie whispering will fill the owner's mind, though there isn't much they can make out from it.
What on earth could it be?
This item is part of a 3-piece set that may be found in other threads by other people. They will only function when all together...Careful, though. Once altogether, your SD will NEVER look the same again...
((There's something on the paper...but it seems to be in a different language...))
~Nathalia
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Post by seraaches on Feb 9, 2011 20:54:37 GMT -5
H.P. was relieved when the skunk didn't insist they go straight back down, and he glanced over curiously when the other boy picked up a fountain pen. H.P. flipped over the picture thoughtfully and squinted at the back, reading it aloud slowly.
"Suvius Lampoon; Granpa Ambert, Docker's Pond. I wonder where that is. What do you think. . ." He glanced over at the other Card, abruptly realizing that he didn't actually know the other boy's name. "Oh, uhm. I'm H.P. By the way." He flushed at having been so rude, but, well, with the way things had been going today, it was perhaps entirely unsurprising. He quickly looked back at the back of the picture. "Selkie Lakes, Tamis, keep the package? What package?" He immediately dug back into the bag, only coming up with an old piece of paper and. . . parts of a mask? He held them up by the paper to show to the Diamond.
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Post by Bee on Feb 9, 2011 21:17:22 GMT -5
"H.P.?" he asked, curiously. Initials for something, obviously, since most people who were not his mother could conceive of naming someone Aychpee. "Do you have an embarrassing name like I do?" He paused, felt a twinge of social awkwardness amidst all the other bizarre emotions of the day, suppressed it, and said, as brightly as he could, "Anyone who helps solve murders with me can call me Nephy."
In retrospect he could have made an introduction far less...that. He abruptly focused his attention back on the bag's contents, now displayed for his perusal.
He had no idea who Suvius Lampoon or her grandfather was, or Tamis for that matter, but having names made him feel a little bit better about life. The drive to know everything about everything kicked in with ferocity; he wanted the most complete picture of the events he could possibly assemble to hand to the police. The object he could not make heads or tails of--it was broken, obviously, constructed from glass and--was that...bone? Where were the other pieces, then?
The paper was something more concrete. He carefully plucked it from H.P.'s grasp. It wasn't in any language he recognized, but there were ways to fix that.
Moderate Magical Ability: When activated, he can decipher up to two languages of the player's choosing. These languages are in addition to the common tongue and the Diamond house language.
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