Post by Romania on Dec 6, 2012 7:14:20 GMT -6
Vasile had thought that after having visited the manor’s roof and cemetery, he had already seen the building’s two noisiest places. He didn’t think it was possible to beat the wailing and moaning of the desperate up on the roof, or the sheer amount of sorrow packed within the graveyard. So imagine his surprise when he pushed open the door to the Infirmary and the first thing he heard was a scream, so bloodcurdling and pain-filled that if he hadn’t heard a thousand of them before, he would have most likely reeled back in surprise. As things were though, the Romanian simply sighed, rubbing his ear stop the annoying ringing sound now abusing his brain.
In all honesty, he should have expected this. No place in this manor was completely void of spirits. Wherever he went, he felt that same thick, heavy air about the place. It was like someone had stuffed the entire manor full of cotton. Cotton he had to push aside whenever he moved, cotton that filled his lungs and obscured his view whenever he tried to look at anything too far away. It had been interesting at first. Now it was just jarring.
Shaking his head, Vasile took that first step into the infirmary area, one hand holding a flashlight he didn’t keep on – it wasn’t that dark and he wanted to avoid killing the battery. That, and it wasn’t particular useful to him; everything the flashlight could show him as far as supernatural things went, he had already sensed long before the light reached it. He didn’t need it to point out monsters, and he wasn’t afraid of the dark, so he didn’t need it as a safety blanket to hold on to. After all, no darkness was truly blinding to him; even if he couldn’t see what lurked in the corners and ceilings, he could sense if he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the dark people feared anyway, it was what lurked inside the darkness. It was the unseen, the possibilities. So Vasile had nothing to fear there, nothing he couldn’t see. Darkness, to him, only meant he was more liable to stumble over things. Annoying, sure, but not scary.
And yet, darkness was partially to blame for him needing to visit the Infirmary in the first place; he had been examining the attic in complete darkness, stumbled over something or another and hit his left hand’s index finger into a rusty nail of some sort sticking out of the wall. And as if that hadn’t been embarrassing enough, he had been so startled by the sudden pain he experienced, that he had pulled himself away – and fallen on his nose, making it bleed. He had managed to stop the bleeding a while ago now, but the blood had never left his clothes. That, and although he had cleaned all the blood from his nose, there was still quite a bit of the liquid left on his chin and lips, left there by the Romanian because he thought it made his Dracula costume delightfully more realistic.
But it wasn’t his nose Vasile was worried about – people bled from their noses all the time, it was nothing weird, and it didn’t even hurt anymore, so it probably wasn’t broken – it was his finger. He wanted to find a band-aid and, more importantly, some disinfectant; who knew how dirty or rusty the nail was?
Vasile chuckled to himself as he walked deeper into the infirmary area. While usually, the creepy atmosphere would have intrigued him greatly, he was in too much of a hurry to find that disinfectant to pay much attention to them now; he just decided he’d explore better once the wound was taken care of. So, he walked up to and opened a cupboard, peering inside to search for the items he needed. He just hoped there was some left. Wouldn’t it be really funny – if pathetic – if someone actually ended up dying in the manor because of an infection? That was like surviving a bear attack only to stumble and hit your head fatally. Sad, but oh so funny at the same time. Vasile searched for a while before shaking his head in disappointment and standing up. Nothing in that cupboard. Where did they keep all the useful stuff? He was keeping his finger in his mouth as he looked around, the cut bleeding more than he had at first anticipated.
The ghosts, the spirits and whatever else lurked in the shadows seemed to be stirred by the scent of fresh blood, too. Vasile felt them move closer, like curious cats stalking mice before pouncing. Except the Romanian was pretty sure that at least ghosts couldn’t physically harm him. Usually they didn’t, at least, he didn’t know what the ghosts of this Manor were capable of.
Shrugging the thought away, Vasile turned to continue his search, only to hear the sound of footsteps reverberating from the hallway. Immediately he stopped in place and slunk back into the darkness of the room he had been about to exit. Something was coming, something that at least sounded human. How great, now he’d get some company in this boring search! Grinning, both mischievously and out of joy, the Romanian tiptoed his way closed to the door, ready to jump the second his victim set foot into the room. There was still blood dripping down his lip, and the bleeding finger was now curled up into a fist along with his other fingers, messing up his hand – which still was nothing compared to the mess that was his clothes. For once, Vasile was honestly oblivious to what all the blood must’ve looked like to a stranger not in the know of his wounds.
The footsteps got louder now, and Vasile hunched. On the count of three, he jumped at the back of the man he was yet to identify, grabbing his shoulders on the very same second he brought his lips near his ear to half-whisper a silent, clearly amused: “Boo~”
In all honesty, he should have expected this. No place in this manor was completely void of spirits. Wherever he went, he felt that same thick, heavy air about the place. It was like someone had stuffed the entire manor full of cotton. Cotton he had to push aside whenever he moved, cotton that filled his lungs and obscured his view whenever he tried to look at anything too far away. It had been interesting at first. Now it was just jarring.
Shaking his head, Vasile took that first step into the infirmary area, one hand holding a flashlight he didn’t keep on – it wasn’t that dark and he wanted to avoid killing the battery. That, and it wasn’t particular useful to him; everything the flashlight could show him as far as supernatural things went, he had already sensed long before the light reached it. He didn’t need it to point out monsters, and he wasn’t afraid of the dark, so he didn’t need it as a safety blanket to hold on to. After all, no darkness was truly blinding to him; even if he couldn’t see what lurked in the corners and ceilings, he could sense if he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the dark people feared anyway, it was what lurked inside the darkness. It was the unseen, the possibilities. So Vasile had nothing to fear there, nothing he couldn’t see. Darkness, to him, only meant he was more liable to stumble over things. Annoying, sure, but not scary.
And yet, darkness was partially to blame for him needing to visit the Infirmary in the first place; he had been examining the attic in complete darkness, stumbled over something or another and hit his left hand’s index finger into a rusty nail of some sort sticking out of the wall. And as if that hadn’t been embarrassing enough, he had been so startled by the sudden pain he experienced, that he had pulled himself away – and fallen on his nose, making it bleed. He had managed to stop the bleeding a while ago now, but the blood had never left his clothes. That, and although he had cleaned all the blood from his nose, there was still quite a bit of the liquid left on his chin and lips, left there by the Romanian because he thought it made his Dracula costume delightfully more realistic.
But it wasn’t his nose Vasile was worried about – people bled from their noses all the time, it was nothing weird, and it didn’t even hurt anymore, so it probably wasn’t broken – it was his finger. He wanted to find a band-aid and, more importantly, some disinfectant; who knew how dirty or rusty the nail was?
Vasile chuckled to himself as he walked deeper into the infirmary area. While usually, the creepy atmosphere would have intrigued him greatly, he was in too much of a hurry to find that disinfectant to pay much attention to them now; he just decided he’d explore better once the wound was taken care of. So, he walked up to and opened a cupboard, peering inside to search for the items he needed. He just hoped there was some left. Wouldn’t it be really funny – if pathetic – if someone actually ended up dying in the manor because of an infection? That was like surviving a bear attack only to stumble and hit your head fatally. Sad, but oh so funny at the same time. Vasile searched for a while before shaking his head in disappointment and standing up. Nothing in that cupboard. Where did they keep all the useful stuff? He was keeping his finger in his mouth as he looked around, the cut bleeding more than he had at first anticipated.
The ghosts, the spirits and whatever else lurked in the shadows seemed to be stirred by the scent of fresh blood, too. Vasile felt them move closer, like curious cats stalking mice before pouncing. Except the Romanian was pretty sure that at least ghosts couldn’t physically harm him. Usually they didn’t, at least, he didn’t know what the ghosts of this Manor were capable of.
Shrugging the thought away, Vasile turned to continue his search, only to hear the sound of footsteps reverberating from the hallway. Immediately he stopped in place and slunk back into the darkness of the room he had been about to exit. Something was coming, something that at least sounded human. How great, now he’d get some company in this boring search! Grinning, both mischievously and out of joy, the Romanian tiptoed his way closed to the door, ready to jump the second his victim set foot into the room. There was still blood dripping down his lip, and the bleeding finger was now curled up into a fist along with his other fingers, messing up his hand – which still was nothing compared to the mess that was his clothes. For once, Vasile was honestly oblivious to what all the blood must’ve looked like to a stranger not in the know of his wounds.
The footsteps got louder now, and Vasile hunched. On the count of three, he jumped at the back of the man he was yet to identify, grabbing his shoulders on the very same second he brought his lips near his ear to half-whisper a silent, clearly amused: “Boo~”