With the deadline closely approaching, I'll now be working on the GM posts.
I'd also like to mention that I have recently updated the Dining Hall. Not much was changed, except maybe the blood ritual bit, but please do read it when you get the chance!
Member Announcements
February 28, 2024
rissa said:
i should prolly mention that i'm moving states within the next two weeks! why i been popping in here and there
ya girl is STRESSED TF OUT but hopefully the move will be an easy transition
A couple weeks after the outsiders' arrival at Grimsby, the castle forcibly leads them to a room. There, they meet the enigmatic Grimsworth, a shapeshifting being that promises to teach them everything they need to know about magic. After orienting them on a few house rules, he assigns three people to a strange task involving a terrarium. Only, two of these people are Wraithbanes, and the other is an unsuspecting outsider.
Meanwhile, the heirs convene in the woods upon the Provider's summoning. As they wait for their leader, tensions rise between them, but something dreadful interrupts their arguments. A hand emerges from the nearby Roots, and illusion it is not. Have the heirs found their missing kin, Amelia Dreamford? Or is something else taunting them, tricking them into coming closer?
Robbie by Ghostly Boo
Taylor by Ardent
Emery by MiharuAya
Leo by MiharuAya
Saoirse by RaccoonKing
Benji by vinn
Jamie by Kuno
Corin Isabelle by Nougat
Davy Aguillon by Leucothea
FOUNDING FAMILIES
Sylvia Blackwood (Heiress) by Ghostly Boo
Venetia Bloodheart (Heiress) by rissa
Meri Crowthorne (Heiress) by RaccoonKing
Sullivan Darkstone (Heir) by Ardent
Emilia Dreamford (Heiress) by DANAsaur
ABERRANT HOLLOWS
Faolan (Wraithbane) by Nougat
Hunter (Wraithbane) by Kuno
Yzra (Wraithbane) by Lyrikai
The role-play is set in the 1980s, specifically 1987.
Grimsby itself is somewhere in our world, concealed by magic. To be more specific, it is located in Great Britain, but in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter. Grimsby has been isolated for so long that it has developed its own culture.
Because of the nature of the mirror-portals, outsiders can come from any part of the world.
Yes, there are some limited roles by necessity. These are: the Heirs, the Council Members, and the Wraithbanes.
Because there is only a limited number of slots for these roles, I would like to choose role-players who I know will be sticking around awhile, or are most suited to the role due to their playing style.
Thus, these roles cannot be reserved; and instead I will pick and choose among the applicants. If you'd like to apply, you're free to do so! But if you are new, I suggest that you play with a different role for a while so I can be assured you will be a part of this rp for the long-term.
This is a horror / dark fantasy role-play, so pretty much the staples of those genres. There will be violence and death, there will be disturbing scenes, there will be creepy shenanigans, and there won't always be trigger warnings. Consider yourself forewarned!
The main in-character thread will not have any sexual content whatsoever. That being said, you can pursue role-plays of such a nature in our role-locked discord subforum, #nsfw-ic. Only members who are 18+ will be able to read and reply to such content.
That said, sexual assault even in our little fictional setting is a no-go across the board. It may be implied for story reasons of course, but I would rather that people not play it out scene by scene.
Do I need to add a content warning for <insert disturbing written content here>?
Ideally, yes, so I ask that you all keep an open mind! If your character does a stoopid and puts themselves in a nasty situation they can't get out of, they will likely die. Plot armor can only work for so long!
If your character dies, you can of course create a new one.
You may have a maximum of two characters upon joining. It is encouraged to start with an outsider, and then try other roles as you get more accustomed to the setting and lore.
For every month you are active in the role-play, you will be allowed an additional character. This will be capped at 5 total characters (for now), but may be increased in the future.
It has been three weeks since the disappearance of Amelia Dreamford, and yet three whole days was all the time spent searching for the missing girl. Even her closest kin didn't seem particularly troubled; quite the contrary, they were quick to put the incident behind them. You can trust the Founding Families to ignore any fledgling crises, terrified of what they might find if they dig deep enough.
Three weeks. So it has been since the Roots roused from their centuries-long slumber. What is it about the number three? If the Roots had anything to do with the Dreamford girl's disappearance, the Founding Families wouldn't know. They wouldn't wish to. And yet, no matter how much they try to cling to their delusions of normalcy, these strange occurrences have not ceased. Truth, even when buried six feet under, will make itself known.
Ignorance, meet Consequence. The castle has become a frightful beast, more temperamental than it has ever been. It is plagued by a constant state of distress: the trembling ground, the sighing walls, the sudden cold drafts. Even the crows have been increasingly volatile as of late, crying ceaselessly through day and night. Any human being with working eyes and ears can no longer fool themselves. Grimsby is changing, and it is changing for the worse.
And then there's Grimsworth–a creature that, according to legend, appears only in times of grave need. He has returned after many, many years, bringing unwelcome individuals with him. They are the outsiders, those people from the Beyond that the Founding Families loathe and also secretly envy, for they represent everything Grimsby is not.
What this could mean for Grimsby's future is, as yet, unknown. But one thing is for sure:
Nothing will ever be the same again. IN THE GRIMWOOD FOREST...
The forest was as silent as a grave when the Heirs emerged from the passage that morning. The crows were nowhere in sight. No fluttering of feathers, no guttural cries. Even the trees, mantled by the shifting mists, were otherwise silent and unmoving. Despite the time of year there was a biting chill in the air. It benumbed fingertips, cracked lips, made fleeting ghosts out of one's breath. And still, the Heirs waited. They waited, as they did on mornings like these, for the Provider to arrive and for their usual lessons to begin.
But something else was different about the woods this morning. More than the crows, more than the chill, more than the eerie silence. The Roots had inched closer to the passage, so close as to be disquieting. It was a growing problem that demanded attention… if only the Founding Families would heed it.
IN THE CASTLE...
This was no ordinary morning for the outsiders, but then again when had it ever been since they met that strange man?
It didn't matter where they were at that very moment; the Castle shifted its walls and hallways and doors, shepherding them all into the same room: a small and empty space, with anthropoid candelabras on one stone wall and lancet windows on the other. The view from the windows was a somber one. The sun was nowhere in sight; there was just the gray of the clouds above, the battlements below, and beyond that: the woods, cloaked in heavy mist.
For the first time since the outsiders' arrival at Grimsby, something was happening. But what could it be?
Meanwhile, hostile creatures walked among them: wearing human skin, bearing friendly faces. As the outsiders sought solace in each other's company and made new friends, the Hollows of the Roots singled out their next victims.
@Ghostly Boo@Karo@Kuno@Lyrikai@MiharuAya@Nougat@RaccoonKing@SilverPaw@Vinn
And the IC thread is finally here! You are now free to post. Write as much or as little as you want, for as long as you give people something to respond to. I don't care about word counts or how much you can post in a week (so long as you don't go too overboard, ofc). However, I do ask that everybody post at least once in the next two weeks, or you may be left behind.
On another note, I am once again supplying y'all with this completely optional code, which you can tweak to your heart's desire.
/* BACKGROUNDS */
--sidebar-bg: url(https://i.imgur.com/FbhM2mJ.jpg);
--body-bg: url(https://i.imgur.com/m3dazQ2.jpg);
--body-bg-overlay: #ffffff58;
--info-bg: #33070895; /* FOR LOCATION, INTERACTION, AND MUSIC PLAYER */
/* COLORS */
--font-color-1: #fff;
--font-color-2: #1b1b1b;
--font-color-3: #ffffff95; /* FOR LOCATION, INTERACTION, AND MUSIC PLAYER */
--border-color: #540c0d;
/* FONTS & SIZES */
--name-font: IM Fell English SC;
--name-size: 38px; /* FOR LONGER NAMES, TRY 28px */
--body-font: Port Lligat Sans;
--body-size: 1.7rem;
/* MP3 */
--display-mp3: default; /* CHANGE "DEFAULT" TO "NONE" TO REMOVE MP3 PLAYER */
Of course, you are free to write your posts in plain text, or use your own code. Do whatever works for you, just make sure it's mobile-friendly! I'd also prefer if you make a mention of your character's interactions and whereabouts in every post.
There standing amongst the heirs was Emilia Dreamford, annoyance evident on her face despite her best efforts to mask it. The chill in the air seemed to seep into her bones, a constant reminder of the uncomfortable reality she found herself in. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze fixed on the ground.
This very ground bore witness to what happened on that fateful night.
How foolish of her twin to play in the forest. Albeit it is common for the twins to have a game of hide and seek, it is not normal for the other to be gone for hours on end. Emilia came home crying that night as she lost her twin to the forest. Only to be declared dead three days later.
It came as no surprise that the Dreamford family had chosen not to dwell on the matter. After all, it was Amelia who had gone missing. Simply the spare. The other twin.
A sudden chill snaked its way down Emilia's spine, and a wave of nausea threatened to claw its way up her throat. She hastily tugged her cloak tighter around herself, her chin disappearing into the embrace of its soft fur. The longer she stayed in the forest, the more her thoughts swirled. Now, branches seemed to whisper to one another, sharing secrets between their leaves.
If the trees could speak, would they reveal what happened that day?
A frown crossed her features. No good will come if she lets herself think these foolish thoughts.
"How much longer are we expected to endure this?" Emilia finally voiced her frustration, taking a deep breath to quell her erratically beating heart. "Isn't it too chilly for our lessons to be outside today?" A breathy cloud escaped her lips, a testament to the cold's grip. "Why can't we have our lessons inside the castle near a warm fireplace?"
Three days. That's how long it had been since Maureen arrived at this creepy castle. Before, she had wandered a labyrinth of mirrors, navigating horrifying distortions of her reflection and trying desperately to locate a way out. Occasionally she'd reach what seemed to be an exit, only to be drawn away by the glimpse of her mother hobbling around the corner on broken legs. Her mother's lilting voice constantly penetrated the silence, clawing at the recesses of Maureen's mind as she tried to journey forward.
Even days later, she was plagued by memories of the experience.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…
"You're not real," Maureen muttered, clamping her hands over her ears.
You make me happy when skies are gray…
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Maureen shouted, desperate to quiet the ghostly voice.
You'll never know dear how much I love you…
Maureen jammed her fingers into her eyes, sliding down to the floor against one of the mirrors. Like an apparition, her mother's face stared back at her from the mirror directly across. Maureen quickly buried her head in her arms, humming loudly to herself to block out the song.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
As the song ended, the voice faded away and Maureen tentatively lifted her head. Her mother's face had disappeared, as had the mirror that contained it. A few yards ahead was a new mirror, this one more ornate than any she had seen before in the labyrinth. Examining the mirror more closely, she could see a faint ripple, as though its silver reflection were the surface of a pond. As she reached out to touch it, her mother's voice called to her once more.
"Maurie, don't leave me."
Maureen sighed, looking down at her feet. "I'm sorry Mom," she replied, before stepping into the mirror.
When she arrived at the room she now found herself stuck in, there was no one else to be seen. She waited for what felt like thirty minutes before she heard footsteps coming from behind the door. Preparing herself for anything, Maureen turned to face the door, balling her fists.
He'd been beginning to wonder if these people had been brought here just to rot within the castle walls. Faolán had arrived (had been brought into existence) just over a week ago. Yet for as long as he'd been here, they had largely been left to their own devices. It was alright though. He found that he rather enjoyed the idleness.
For the past week, Faolán had developed a simple schedule for himself. Every day he would wander the halls, making note of the shifting architecture and counting the gargoyles, which was a pleasant way to occupy his mind and prevent his thoughts from wandering where he did not want them to go. In between, he ensured a minimum of one appearance in the dining hall, where he picked forlornly at whatever morsels they had, two appearances in the communal lavatory (in the morning and at night), and he would lay in bed at night for what he felt was an appropriate amount of time, focusing on the cries of the crows, lest his mind drift to thoughts he'd spent the day avoiding. Of violent deaths and of roots that he is immutably connected to, though he could not see them from where he lay. He was typically unsuccessful in distracting himself.
Overall however, the past week had been rather nice, and though he knew it must, he was loath to see it change. That morning, Faolán noticed that the castle was particularly active in guiding his path. He'd wanted to visit the courtyard, but every hall he went to seemed to lead him further into the castle. When he'd attempted to turn back around, he found the halls had shifted, and he was unable to find his way back to his room. Had it found him out already, despite him not doing a thing? Was it planning to trap him where he would never be found again? Regardless, there was little else he could do but follow the path laid out for him, holding his arms in a self-soothing hug.
He eventually shuffled his way into a small room, empty but for the single other person there. Faolán might have seen her in passing recently. Another of the humans who had been brought to this place. He released the tension he had not realized he had.
Faolán offered her a wan smile and raised one hand in brief greeting before hiding his hands in his pant pockets. "Good morning," he said, though a quick glance out the window showed that it was, in fact, a rather bleak day. "Did the castle make you come here as well?"
Robbie had spent the last four days attempting to get somewhat familiar with the endless number of hallways. He'd thought he was making progress. He could get to the dining hall for their shitty excuse for food, (though admittedly not the worst he's had before.) He 'd even managed to familiarize himself with how to get to the main entrance hall, despite beyond that not being an option as of yet.
Now though?
Now he couldn't even recognise the damn hallway he was in. Backtracking had proven to be even less helpful, it all looked the exact same no matter which direction he faced. It was almost as insane as the trip here, though that was easily an experience he'd rather never relive.
Resigning himself to the high chance of being lost, he pressed forward. Letting the path guide him to where he needed to be.
Every turn and every corner was rather obnoxiously met more madness, more twists of labyrinthine halls that Yzra could barely navigate on a good day: And he sure hadn't had any good days yet since arriving here. They'd all been bad and he was feeling so claustrophobic in here. Even though there were others here alongside himself, he hadn't tried making any friends with any of them. Truly, he should have been feeling right at home in here, shouldn't he have? He valued privacy, he enjoyed the silence, and yet this was just a little bit too much sometimes. It was lonely here, a bit creepy, and too quiet too often.
It was one of those rare few instances where he almost wished he did have a friend in the world to talk to. Someone to chat with probably would have made this madness a little more bearable.
He sighed, dragging his hands down across his face as he aimlessly walked down another long hall. The more and more he wished it, it seemed like the less and less this place wanted him to find anyone at all. He listened hard for voices, footsteps, really anything that gave any indication he could find a place to settle his bones a moment and kill off this terrible feeling of being smothered into silence and nothingness.
"Sure would be nice if this place had a proper map," he called aloud to nothing. But, would a map have even helped? Corridors seemed to take him in impossible directions and walls seemingly sprung up behind him where he'd swear on his life they hadn't been before. A map would have been just as infuriating and complicated and utterly and totally useless.
Eventually, his wandering led him to a room, thankfully not empty of people, though it was very much empty of most anything else. What a gloomy damned sight outside the windows, he grimaced at it and nodded his head instead to the others. "At least I'm not alone anymore." At least he could try and be polite in greeting, so he added one simple, "Hello."
Soft plumes of breath twisted from Sylvia's lips with each breath. Molding and shifting into ghostly figures that would stare at her with blank eeriness before vanishing with the next blink of her eyes. A simple trick of the forest, easily ignored.
If she had been alone she would have pushed the illusion, tested her own limitations.
She swiped a gloved hand through the misty vapors, pushing the distracting thoughts to the back of her mind as Emilia broke the eerie silence.
Of course with a complaint.
"Perhaps you should voice your discomforts to the Provider. I am sure your comfort is of the utmost importance." She didn't even attempt to hide her exasperation.
"I second the idea. I'd rather listen to anything but your insistent yapping and I'm sure the Provider would be thrilled to listen!"
Meri couldn't help but intervene as the morning itself had been far to silent for her liking. She herself had a scarlet cloak pulled tightly around her, breathing slowly. It was cold, Meri definitely agreed but there was no way she could a miss a chance to cause some kind of problem with Emilia. After all, Emilia seemed to hold more ill will towards her than anyone else here.
She never did take well to hostility after all, it reminded her far to much of those who shared her blood.
A rather sly grin slipped upon the corner of her darkly painted lips, a promise of nothing good evident, "However, this is still a sight to see! The Dreamford Heir, acting like nothing more than a petulant child because of a chill". Her words were without emotion, apathetic but it only served to contrast her expression.
It was barely noticeable but to a rather observent eye, there was now a rather small bounce to her step as the Crowthrone Heir awaited her desired reaction. Without anyone to enforce her professionalism as a Heir, Meri did not even hesitate to unleash her rather unruly and carefree behaviour.
Venetia was absolutely freezing. She wore three jackets (one of which reached past her calves) and the fluffiest scarf she owned and yet she was still trembling down to the bone. It was diligence, perhaps even stubbornness, that refused to let her teeth chatter. Despite her hard work, her short, willowy frame could still be seen shivering as she made circles around their little patch of the forest. Back and forth, swish and sway, barely making a sound even as her feet never ceased, eyes roving over the roots that continued to draw near.
Like the castle at her back, Venetia felt unsettled.
Where were the crows and their incessant barking of haunting songs? Where was the wind that flitted through the branches and divorced the mists, leaving them both dancing in tune?
For half a moment she wished she had a curios like Meri's or hell, even a hatchet, so that she could shred the roots apart and study how long it took for them to come creeping back. Only for a moment though, before it was gone and replaced by the bickering behind her. Ven sighed, hoping from one foot to the other in attempt to stay warm. She made little sound even as she turned around to face them.
"We needn't be bickering amongst ourselves when the Provider arrives," Venetia chided, eyeing each of her fellow heiresses with a withering glance. Her chin was held aloft, though mostly so she could see them properly between their height differences and the fuzzy scarf that covered most of her face. "It is cold, yes, but set your mind to ease and it'll be over soon enough. This too, is a test."
She looked around for Sullivan, her eyes roving around the sky as was necessary in order to sneer at him.
"We needn't be ungracious or choleric either," Ven said to the group, though her eyes were on Alsotromeria as she spoke. "We're blessed, all of us. We ought to put more effort into getting along."
She paused for a moment before switching to their shared tongue.
"Nach mothaich thu mì-thoileachas na coille? Feumaidh sinn a bhith nar comhfhurtachd dha chèile anns na h-amannan duilich seo."
Fantasy, Urban fantasy, Magical, Science fiction (occasionally), Romance (prefer elements of it that occur organically during a RP), Drama (as part rather than the focus of a story), Adventure
Shane had arrived into this strange, dreary, secluded world nearly two weeks ago. And, man, what a ride it had been.
Vividly and intensely, he could remember the death – a memory he resented and fought off viciously, no matter how insistently it made its reappearance during long, restless nights.
Wandering into the wrong mirror, only to step into a desolate, feral forest with a penchant for human flesh. The creeping roots, the desperate scrabbling, thinking of the lighter in his pocket…getting his arm broken for the trouble – agonizing moments later, his neck had been snapped as easily as he'd shatter a twig underfoot.
Those were mere fragments of it, really, but no matter how persistently he repressed the whole thing, the memories were insidious. As if thorny tendrils were keen to burrow deep into his very being, spreading inch by inch, tearing him apart from the inside out…
As if the Roots wished to possess him wholly; until they were him, he was they.
But that was nonsense. He was already theirs…wasn't he?
Those were the kind of strange notions Shane was better off without. He had so much to do!
A castle to explore, his new body to test for limitations, alcohol to raid…It was a shame that after all the trouble he went through to filch expensive whisky bottles from an antique display, he'd discovered it no longer affected him as it had as a human. He could still taste it, and share it with the humans, so it'd have to be good enough.
If only…
Oh, well.
He had discovered something so much more.
Stalking a target, unseen and unknown. The chase, the capture…the reward.
Shane smirked as he left his room, planning to take a little stroll into some unexplored areas. But the castle had other plans today. It changed, and shifted, the passageways herding him with clear intent.
He wasn't a fan of it. He roundhouse kicked a part of the wall – of course, this didn't help any.
Clicking his tongue, Shane went along with whatever this was. It didn't take long for him to be led to a room.
So, they were all being gathered there.
"What the hell, if someone wanted a party, they could'a just said, am I right?" he joked with a roguish grin.
He surveyed the room. In the end, his gaze settled on Faolán. "Hey, buddy, what a call back to that damn labyrinth, huh?" He strolled up to his Hollow, and put an arm around him.
It was almost funny, but both before and now, the guy had the same tendency to slouch, the same downcast air about him, as if he were a desolate ghost who'd forgotten to move on and was but a mere whisp trailing through the world of the living.
Shane was sure the man just needed a little pick me up. "Making new friends? Good on ya," he told him quietly. He patted Faolán's shoulder, then left him to his own devices, taking a walk around the room.
Neither coat nor crimson cloak could bring Sullivan any warmth. He trembled uncontrollably. The cold, it seemed, had become a part of him. It seeped into his skin. It was deep in his bones. His fingers felt like they belonged to someone else. Every joint ached and creaked in protest with every step made, but he moved regardless. Too long in one place, and he might turn into ice itself.
The others were in no better shape. Their convictions wavered like flickering candle flames against the frigid air. Sully hedged the roots, listening to his fellow heirs and ruminating about all the mysteries they had yet to uncover. All the while, the roots gnarled in the dirt before him like a pit of snakes. How he longed to touch them, caress them, snap them into a million tiny pieces. What secrets did they hold?
Venetia was in the middle of one of her monologues. Sensible Venetia, foolish Venetia. A shame her efforts were as futile as suturing a wound with a threadless needle.
"Yes, we must show some sympathy to our dear Emilia," Sully said with measured cadence, the words trickling out of his mouth like tar. Soft-spoken he might be, but one would be a fool to think him gentle. "I cannot begin to imagine the depths of her sorrow. It must be so terrible, so terrible to lose a beloved sister."
It was true: he couldn't imagine it. He had always hoped to one day be an only child, to be rid of the lesser Darkstone progenies he loathed to call siblings.
"Surely you must know what happened to her." He turned towards Emilia. "They say twins form a preternatural connection in the womb, a connection that persists until one or the other… ceases to exist."
The mist shifted. An illusion in the shape of Amelia shattered the barrier of Sully's mind; and what a vision it was, flashing in and out of existence to enact every scenario his mind could come up with. Poison, suicide, murder… the possibilities were endless.
"I'm not the only one who feels the same way." Emilia defensively retorted to Sylvia. "So why are you singling me out as the villain? It's clear that everyone here is feeling uncomfortable. Why is no one else speaking up?"
Emilia was making an excuse to leave the forest although it seemed none of the heirs could sennse her discomfort. How can they be so callous?
She was not surprised that Meri chimed in. Her relationship with the heir of Crowthorne was far from ideal and she had no plans to mend it.
"A petulant child? Need I remind you of your age, young Alsomeria?" Emilia's tone was mocking, a deliberate attempt to deflect the focus from Meri's provocations. She had no patience for Meri's antics, especially not now. "Don't interupt when the adults are talking."
Venetia then swooped in to stop the bickering although Emilia hardly felt grateful. The ramblings of the Bloodheart heir grated on Emilia's nerves, resembling a mother scolding her child.
Emilia's pointed look at Sullivan was a silent plea for support, a request to intervene and defuse the situation. The Darkstone heir did not disappoint. However, a question hung in the air. What did happen to her twin? Emilia was sick of recounting the same story over and over again, like a broken record stuck on a melody.
"Amelia this. Amelia that. Do I need to tell you the story again? We were playing hide and seek," she continued, her voice growing tired yet spiteful. "I couldn't find her. She didn't come home. We all know how vast and mysterious the forest is. How dangerous. She is not foolish enough to stay here alone. Besides, it's already been two weeks. She's dead."
Emilia's emotions, a turbulent mix of anger and frustration, threatened to consume her. The forest, with its ancient secrets and hidden dangers, seemed to mirror the complexity of her emotions. The truth about Amelia's disappearance loomed, and Emilia was far from happy about it.
"A dear shame that Amelia is dead but nothing is gained from crying over spilled milk." Emilia murmured under her breath, her eyes looking straight into the surrounding trees to hide her inner turmoil. "Besides, let's not kid ourselves. None of you really cared about her. Isn't she a wallflower of this group? A mere decoration? As if any one of you would come to her rescue if she screamed her throat raw for help."
Emilia's gaze hardened. "She's dead," she repeated, her voice steeled and cold. "And if any of you actually cared, you'd understand the certainty of that by now."
The chilly weather was nothing compared to the ice that filled Sylvia's veins as they spoke of Amelia Dreamford disappearance. Her death. A nauseating conversation, punctuated visually by Sullivans unsavory imagination.
The thought of ignoring screams of help from anyone, was a sickening thought. "That's quite enough! Both of you!" She snapped.
"Show some respect." This she directed at Sullivan and his misty figures. Although her bravado didn't last for too long, keeping her gaze on Sullivan for too long often made her skin crawl, as if eyes peered at her from the depths of the forest.
"And you…" Sylvia started, gladly turning her attention back to Emilia.
You disgust me.'She thought bitterly, before finishing aloud. "She is your sister, she deserves better than your harsh words."
The castle was quite efficient in herding people into the room, depositing someone new soon after his own arrival. Faolán shifted his stance to partially face the newcomer, but he hadn't even had a chance to greet him in return before Shane loudly entered the room. Faolán's smile, already a rather underwhelming thing, faltered.
He didn't dislike Shane–if anything, the confidence with which he held himself was quite enviable. But when Faolán had first emerged from the Roots, skin dark with blood and dirt, it had been meeting Shane that dragged the sacrifice's last memories to the forefront of his mind.
It wasn't him in that forest, running away from a shadow which always seemed one step ahead. It wasn't him who'd been caught and thrown to the roots. He was not the one whose last sight was the cruel face of his captor as the Roots closed over his head, sealing him beneath the earth. If anything, he ought to be grateful to Shane for capturing the original and bringing him to existence, though thus far, existence had largely consisted of aimlessly wandering the dreary halls of the castle. Still, fear seemed to have ingrained itself into his sinews, the sacrifice's view of the other Hollow – shadowed, callous, and cruel – often appearing unbidden in his mind.
To his credit, Faolán didn't flinch away from Shane's arm, standing – not tall, but at least not shrinking more at the contact. "I don't think anything's nearly as bad as trying to get through that maze," he said with a grimace. Not that he recalled much of the mirrored room itself—just enough to know that the original was weak to the temptations which beckoned from beyond. But Faolán didn't die getting to this room, so he'd already done better than the original in that regard.
He glanced briefly at the two other people at Shane's next words, a self-effacing smile twisting his lips. "You know me, always up for a good craic," he muttered, though Shane had already sauntered off before he even opened his mouth.
It was as good a reminder as any to stay focused on the task at hand. He turned his attention back to the two before him, an expression that could possibly be considered a smile firmly affixed on his face. "Shane was the first person I met when I arrived," he said, by way of explanation. "He was very welcoming." That was one way to put it, at least.
Change was coming. The castle was alive, the walls shifting and the bricks leaning against one another in collective breaths as the gothic, dreary halls made way for the path of the day. Every morning brought something new. Individual design and purpose made way for the machinations of the Castle; it was as much a building as it was an entity, equally cruel and restrictive in its inherent state.
Every day felt like another day in a cage. Hunter's first night had been brutishly violent; he'd tried, in vain, to either break the walls or himself. Neither had yielded. Neither had The Castle for his third option: attempting escape. The halls had twisted and turned and coalesced until Hunter had run himself ragged, having had no choice but to return to his room to regroup. Then he'd tried the third day, and the fourth day, and the fifth day...run, run, and run, the Mad Dog did, in endless mazes of Labyrinthian design.
Not once did The Castle show him mercy.
Hunter did not intend to show any mercy either.
His appearance into the meeting hall coincided with the darkening gloom beyond the lancet windows. His shadow stretched long, his figure a monstrous caricature against the primeval stone walls. Barely bridled anger colored his eyes as he glanced from one face to another. A few of the faces were familiar. The rest?
Hell if he knew them.
"What the hell is this, a meet and greet?" He said sardonically. his mouth twisting.
"Guessing that ways fucked too," Robbie grouched, jerking his chin in the direction the blonde wannabe had come from. Even just a brief glance had told him enough, there were no other exits that way.
He pivoted back in the direction he'd been going, finally seeing an opening at the end. Better not be another deadend, at least he wasn't stuck wandering alone.
"Name's Robbie" He offered, headed for the room at the end of the hall.
It's been a week since Leo arrived at this strange place. A place where shadows seem to stem from nothing, reaching out to grab him with serpent-like tendrils. The walls moved, shifting and sighing with each step. If he weren't so painfully aware of his week-long sobriety, he would have thought that he was on a bad trip. But, this was all too real to be mere hallucinations and drug-induced paranoia.
Speaking of which, he could really go for a drink right about then. He had been walking down these aimless hallways for what felt like an hour. However, it was difficult to tell the time when it always remained dark and gloomy outside.
When he heard what sounded like voices, Leo paused for a moment. He saw another figure in the hallway. Although part of him was relieved, it was also a little creepy. When the guy introduced himself, Leo waved, "I'm Leo."
As he approached, he heard a voice mention a party. A large grin widened, and he stepped into the room. "Did someone say, 'party?'."
It had only been three days since Emery came to the castle. Just three days and each one had been absolute hell.
The first day was spent in bewilderment. With hesitation, he would try to explore the grounds. But, with each corner turn, a new labyrinth appeared before him. Where once was a gargoyle is now an empty rooftop. Each time he tried to leave, he always found himself back at that mysterious castle. It was maddening.
Eventually, he scavenged and found some spare paper and a dull pencil. He scribbled the pathways he took, each turn, each door and window he passed. However, it just confirmed what he already suspected. This place wasn't ordinary.
Emery's second day was spent in crisis. He was convinced that this was all just some terrible nightmare. Yet, as he tried everything to wake himself up, short of hurting himself, he soon resigned to his new reality.
As he walked along the hallways again today, he found the castle extra aggressive. He felt like a sheep being herded, but it was the end place that haunted his mind. As his chest tightened in fear, his head raced with unpleasant thoughts while his feet kept pace with his mind. Was it his imagination? Or was he really hearing voices?
It didn't matter. The moment he laid eyes on a room, Emery ran inside. Though, just as he stepped through the doorway, his body slammed into another. It was huge, and stood firm as if he just run straight into a tree. Emery fell back onto his butt. "Oh, uh…sorry. I didn't see you there." As he fixed his shaggy hair, he peered up nervously. "Oh. Hi, Hunter." Emery offered a shy smile, though he could already tell by Hunter's demeanor that he was in a bad mood.
