Shadows within Shadows, Lies within Lies [Need Players!!!]

[The Seasick Sailor]

JackthePunk

I hurry outside, but am stopped by my brother "Where are you going, dude?". I just look around and say "I'm off to buy some cigarettes...".

Outside, I search for a payphone, but alas, when I reach it, suddenly my mind is strucken by some toughts...Maybe I should call her tomorrow, I should enjoy the show and be with my bro... then I just remember that I'm not good at those "thinking things over" thing. I take the phone number from my jacket and call her in the middle of the night, hoping she will answer, maybe for a miracle.

As I make the call, I keep thinking about the girl, how she looke so fine, so great, so...vicious.
(Is it okay if I keep my roleplaying to a minium of a post a day?)

[[Yes, that's perfectly fine.]]

"Hello?" A dark, seductive voice answers.

[[Sorry that it's so short, but I wanna RP out the conversation with you.]]  

[The Seasick Sailor]

Galvorte

"Huh." Now that's interesting. I reread the ad once more, wondering exactly what about it compels me so. It's nothing much out of the ordinary . . . yet somehow it calls to me. It tugs at something in my memory that I can't quite recall. It's like something out of a role-playing game. I think this was an adventure hook in a game I played once. Such a small, everyday thing, that triggers such an unexpected reaction -- yet he never would have noticed it but for the stain from his coffee mug. Is this fate?

I'm not due to show up in the newsroom until almost noon today, so I've got time to go. On a lark, I decide I will go. Now the only thing is what to wear. He's elderly -- probably something more formal, then. But maybe. . . . I decide to try something a little different, thinking my favorite tee will make me stand out a little, while still presenting a the appearance of a serious writer.

I finish my breakfast with more speed than normal, before dressing and otherwise attending to my appearance, and head out the door -- first making sure that I have the address and other information written down.

(OOC: Yes, I have that t-shirt. And I could also swear that I've heard this hook before. . . .)

As you pull up to the house about 30 minutes later, you immediately notice it's Victorian look. It may be small, but it's very classy with its dark wood trimming. In fact, it looks like there's a hint of Gothic in the exterior.

You shut off the car and follow the thin, stone path (with dying grass all around) to a tiny porch that sports no furniture and only rotting wood. A wide, old wooden door stands snuggly between two small, simple windows. Before you can knock on the door, a tall, old butle swings it open.

"Are you here for the interview?" He asks, sizing you up. Then he notices your sure and decides, "Of course you are. Follow me."

The grim-looking man leads you to a white, bare room, save for a plastic, white chair that sits in the center.

"Please wait here while I retrieve the master," the butler monotonously says, pointing to a chair. "He'll be with you in just a moment."

You sit in the chair and look around the room, noticing how pure the white is. In fact, it seems too pure. There are no smudges on the wall, no scuffs on the floor, nothing. It was too clean! And then your eyes fall on the black door, one of purest black, that stands across from the room, staring...  

[The Seasick Sailor]

[.Chiaroscuro.]

I paused and turned swiftly, but the person shaking me was normal and definitely not afraid of any monster that may be creeping about. There was no... no monster? What? But... I looked down at my hands. They were quivering beyond imagination, but the soot and blood were gone, as if it had never existed. I closed my eyes and sighed. There was no monster. Everything was alright. But now I looked like a crazed woman... Had there really been nothing to fear the whole time? "I'm... I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." I said softly, trying to maintain whatever composure I had left. I could feel my face turning red from my utter embarrassment. "I... I'm fine, Mr. Foreman, thank you..." I said, stepping back from the man. I nodded to reassure both him and myself (but mainly myself) before turning to walk slowly back towards my desk, trying hard not to shake as I went.

Whatever had just happened... I couldn't have imagined Gary, or the books from last night... So maybe I simply imagined him and them today? Was the whole thing just a product of my over-worked mind? "I need a vacation..." I sighed as I approached my blood-free desk. The books were real, I had touched them... They left residue... but they're gone, too.

A chilling image of the monster ran through my mind again. It was too imaginary to be real... but then again, it was just too real to be imaginary. I ran a hand through my hair and groaned softly. No more horror novels, I vowed to myself.

((Edit: I must go, ttyl...))

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, and you pass with it, going through the usual procedures, chiding the same students, and helping the ones unintelligent enough to not use the computerized catalog to find books. Soon enough, it's already time to close the library.

So, as usual, you lock up when everyone leaves, take the current book you are reading from the office, sit down in your favorite chair, and delve into the world between the pages.

That's when you hear the breathing again...  

[The Seasick Sailor]

Galvorte

That's odd . . . this is too clean. The outside was dirty. And a plastic chair in a Victorian . . . something doesn't fit. I look for tracks on the floor, we were just walking through. None. I deliberately scuff my shoe on the floor. Nothing. Something is seriously not right here. So not right that I should leave?

Knock it off, Cochran, you're a serious reporter here. There's gotta be an explanation for this -- find it! I get up, intending to look around the room for clues. After about a minute of simply looking around the room without moving from my spot by the chair, I sit back down, at little sheepishly. Of course. That's the point -- there isn't anything to look at. If there was, there wouldn't be a mystery, now would there? Deciding, a little reluctantly, that the only real way to find out more is to wait, I sit back and do just that.

Still, I wish I had my gun with me.

As you sit down, you're eyes wander over to the ebony door across from you. It stands out so vividly, it's almost hard NOT to notice.  

[The Seasick Sailor]

[.Chiaroscuro.]

I try not to notice my heart jumping into my throat as I note the familiar tones of the breathing. I immediately place my finger in my book, putting it down on my desk as I do so. I close my eyes as my body tenses up. It's fine, Jem. You're... fine. I glance uneasily to my watch. It is quite late, though, and the familiarity of my apartment is a much needed comfort right now...

I stand and make some last minute arrangements. The breathing does not stop. I've had a long day, I reason to myself, I need to leave, anyway. I'm not scared of my own imagination... I quickly replace the book with a marker, clutching it to my body as I maneuver towards the door. Getting some more sleep would undoubtedly do me some good. I'm not... I'm not scared. I try desperately to convince myself otherwise. It wasn't working. I was absolutely terrified of a repeat episode of this morning...

You quickly make it out of the library, securing the lock behind you. You rush to your car, speed most of the way home, and sprint to your apartment. When you're finally inside, you turn on the living room light, deadbolt the door behind you and let out a sigh of relief...  

[The Seasick Sailor]

Galvorte

That door . . . another contast. The door is at odds with the room, of course, but I have no idea how an examination of it would answer of my questions. Still. . . . Wait, that's the door to go farther in. What about the door I came through?

Somewhat against my better judgement, I get up again, looking back to see if the door I came through looks the same on this side as it did on the other. If it looks different than I remember, I -- very quickly, for it would be an odd position to be caught in -- open it and examine the difference. Then I'll take a look at the other door, the black one . . . or rather, not at the door itself, so much as where it joins with the wall. It seems so at odds with the rest of the room that I wonder if I'll find anything odd there. Even so, i won't open it. All will be revealed soon, I am sure, I don't want to start things off awkwardly -- so if after a quick examination, I can find nothing amiss, I'll return to the chair and wait.

If no-one returns for me within about ten minutes, though, I'll have to rethink things. I'm not completely unfamilar with sneaking around buildings uninvited.


OOC: What do the floor, walls, and celling seem to be made of?

The door you came through is made of heavy oak, and although the outside shows many browns, the inside is as white as the rest of the room.

As you walk over to the other door, you notice a faint glow from under it, and a chilling air about the door itself. It feels like ice when you touch.

You hear a barely audible thump. It might be the butlet, or the master himself, so you quickly return to the chair and wait (somewhat) patiently.

[[The materials to the floors, walls, and ceilings seem like what you'd find in a typical home.]]