Post by Wern on Oct 19, 2015 0:18:37 GMT
Thread happens a few weeks before the Harrowing Masquerade thread.
Open to All: Especially Viktor Croswell
Is connected to Whatever you desire (Wren's trial), but one does not really need to know about the other for this.
Down the street from Viktor’s and Amon’s shop, there lay a two story building, nestled and tucked away behind the other shops as if too timid to be close to the street. It’s walls stretched toward the smoke laden sky, some windows broken, or at least appearing to be on the brink. Storefront in shambles, any rational person would have walked on by, never even considering to stop and look in its general direction. But Wern had, and more. He had approached the door, the remnants of a past sign creaking in the autumn breeze, like a strange cackle. Keys jingled in one hand while the other fumbled with the doorknob, but the wooden structure would not budge.
“How do you expect to run a shop if you can’t even handle opening a door?” Goya spoke from his satchel, but Wern shushed him, shaking the handle more furiously with every passing moment.
“I tried both keys, for goodness sake. It must be jammed.” He slammed his shoulder into the door, turning the handle repeatedly, trying over and over for the door to open at least a little bit. And when it did, Wern pushed, until at last, a creak and a groan from the timbers tore, and the door pushed open. And there, with fresh skid marks on the ground, was a cabinet. Bending down, Wern ran his hand across the damaged planks, glancing between the door and the cabinet that had apparently blocked it. Light filtered in from the street, illuminating the darkened interior. A breeze rustled the tarps over the windows, providing a faint glow to light the storefront, and its remains. Shelves were turned over, cabinets, split apart as if a wild beast had run across it’s midst. And ever so faintly, claw marks lined the wooden wall, leading to the back room.
“Well, how does it look?” Goya inquired, and Wern patted the orb, whispering for the other to hush. Looking around, he grabbed a steel pipe and approached the counter, and behind it, the door to the back room, or frankly what should have been a door. In the face of some mass, it had detached from its hinges, lying at an odd angle, away from whatever lay in the back. The old floorboards cried out beneath Wern as he approached that backroom, the unfamiliar pressure removing the layers of dust from the woods skin. Though, amongst the rubble, he could see it. Faint imprints of feet, and something else. Something larger. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the doorway and peered into the hall, one side leading to upstairs, and the other, to an alcove and a door. Tucking himself against the wall, Wern tried to control his breathing. Perhaps he should get someone. Like Viktor. Why hadn’t he asked Viktor to accompany him? Who knew how long the place had been abandoned. Why it never occurred to him to inquire how long or why, he would never know. But now, now he was here. And maybe, so was something else.
“Is there something here?” Goya asked, and again, Wern hushed the orb. He peered around the corner, into the alcove, but it was the clear. Now, only the door and the stairs remained. Stepping into the room, he quickly withdrew when he saw something, a shadow, move across the back wall. Clutching the pipe tighter, he glanced back to the store front, where there, the exit glistened like a beam of hope. Gripping the pipe, he took and deep breath and jumped into the doorway, and found a mirror waiting for him. He sighed, almost laughed even.
“It’s just a mirror.” Taking a step forward, he peered into his own refection. At how dumb he looked, all pale, face flushing with new found embarrassment. Until he looked behind his mirrored self. There, on the stairwell, was a skeletal figure that peered at him, grinning with a horrid smile, eyes, sunken in, almost laughing at him. But what terrified him more was how it looked at him, with it’s back bent fully backwards, head, resting its ankles- Bent at such an angle that could not possibly be human. And then, it waved.
And so Wern screamed at the phantom. And because Wern screamed, Goya screamed. And the both of them continued to scream as Wern ran out of the shop, still clutching the pipe as he ran to the only place he knew where to go. A place with a certain redhead mechanic who hopefully knew how to get rid of whatever was in his shop, because whatever that was, Wern was not going to deal with it alone. Bursting through the other’s door, Wern stopped to catch his breath, using the pipe as a walking stick as he leaned against it while Goya continued to scream from Wern’s satchel, becoming more like a weird form of a breathing exercise then an actual scream.
Open to All: Especially Viktor Croswell
Is connected to Whatever you desire (Wren's trial), but one does not really need to know about the other for this.
Down the street from Viktor’s and Amon’s shop, there lay a two story building, nestled and tucked away behind the other shops as if too timid to be close to the street. It’s walls stretched toward the smoke laden sky, some windows broken, or at least appearing to be on the brink. Storefront in shambles, any rational person would have walked on by, never even considering to stop and look in its general direction. But Wern had, and more. He had approached the door, the remnants of a past sign creaking in the autumn breeze, like a strange cackle. Keys jingled in one hand while the other fumbled with the doorknob, but the wooden structure would not budge.
“How do you expect to run a shop if you can’t even handle opening a door?” Goya spoke from his satchel, but Wern shushed him, shaking the handle more furiously with every passing moment.
“I tried both keys, for goodness sake. It must be jammed.” He slammed his shoulder into the door, turning the handle repeatedly, trying over and over for the door to open at least a little bit. And when it did, Wern pushed, until at last, a creak and a groan from the timbers tore, and the door pushed open. And there, with fresh skid marks on the ground, was a cabinet. Bending down, Wern ran his hand across the damaged planks, glancing between the door and the cabinet that had apparently blocked it. Light filtered in from the street, illuminating the darkened interior. A breeze rustled the tarps over the windows, providing a faint glow to light the storefront, and its remains. Shelves were turned over, cabinets, split apart as if a wild beast had run across it’s midst. And ever so faintly, claw marks lined the wooden wall, leading to the back room.
“Well, how does it look?” Goya inquired, and Wern patted the orb, whispering for the other to hush. Looking around, he grabbed a steel pipe and approached the counter, and behind it, the door to the back room, or frankly what should have been a door. In the face of some mass, it had detached from its hinges, lying at an odd angle, away from whatever lay in the back. The old floorboards cried out beneath Wern as he approached that backroom, the unfamiliar pressure removing the layers of dust from the woods skin. Though, amongst the rubble, he could see it. Faint imprints of feet, and something else. Something larger. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the doorway and peered into the hall, one side leading to upstairs, and the other, to an alcove and a door. Tucking himself against the wall, Wern tried to control his breathing. Perhaps he should get someone. Like Viktor. Why hadn’t he asked Viktor to accompany him? Who knew how long the place had been abandoned. Why it never occurred to him to inquire how long or why, he would never know. But now, now he was here. And maybe, so was something else.
“Is there something here?” Goya asked, and again, Wern hushed the orb. He peered around the corner, into the alcove, but it was the clear. Now, only the door and the stairs remained. Stepping into the room, he quickly withdrew when he saw something, a shadow, move across the back wall. Clutching the pipe tighter, he glanced back to the store front, where there, the exit glistened like a beam of hope. Gripping the pipe, he took and deep breath and jumped into the doorway, and found a mirror waiting for him. He sighed, almost laughed even.
“It’s just a mirror.” Taking a step forward, he peered into his own refection. At how dumb he looked, all pale, face flushing with new found embarrassment. Until he looked behind his mirrored self. There, on the stairwell, was a skeletal figure that peered at him, grinning with a horrid smile, eyes, sunken in, almost laughing at him. But what terrified him more was how it looked at him, with it’s back bent fully backwards, head, resting its ankles- Bent at such an angle that could not possibly be human. And then, it waved.
And so Wern screamed at the phantom. And because Wern screamed, Goya screamed. And the both of them continued to scream as Wern ran out of the shop, still clutching the pipe as he ran to the only place he knew where to go. A place with a certain redhead mechanic who hopefully knew how to get rid of whatever was in his shop, because whatever that was, Wern was not going to deal with it alone. Bursting through the other’s door, Wern stopped to catch his breath, using the pipe as a walking stick as he leaned against it while Goya continued to scream from Wern’s satchel, becoming more like a weird form of a breathing exercise then an actual scream.