INACTIVE

Lucan and his shiny Dedenne “BonBon”.

It's international kissing day! Send 😘 to kiss my muse

Seeing the bright-eyed German man randomly appear from behind with a cheek kiss to boot instantly lightened the mood. "Well well well, what a lovely little greeting there!" Vivi roped an arm around the man's neck, returning the favor with a friendly cheek smooch right back. "Ahhh, it's good to see another friendly face. I didn't scare you too much during the wintertime, did I? I won't forget that scream you made when we sent our sleds launching through the air!"

maria-jaeger​:

The next room is not better at all. A claustrophobic, concrete cluster of nightmares. Closed off with no sign of sweet freedom. Mother nature is lost on this place. And if you take the interior in, it shows the low-quality of the furniture. The choice of it may be a sick amalgamation of inspirations taken from boarding schools, mental institutions and American prisons. The only thing making her not dash to the exit door and try to force it open is, that there are other humans in here. And being not alone in here makes all the difference for Maria.

Being in her mid-twenties she may excuse being put into a school uniform as a funny error, but an old gentleman? That is a sick joke. But there is also information to be gained by the choice of victims. Being spoken to, she stops her exploration and goes to the man. Her posture is upright, with straight shoulders and slightly raised chin, a crass contrast to the impression she gave just moments ago. She throws him a small smile. Maria is soft spoken, her words are pronounced precisely, leaving not much of a dialect in them: “Don’t you worry, good sir. Waking up in this unusual predicament left me a bit rattled, I say. Thank you for asking. I hope your nerves have fared better than mine?” Is she the only foreign one? His English sounds like it may be his mother language. How did she get here then? It makes her even more puzzled to say the least. She knows for sure that she hasn’t planned any excursions outside of Germany for the next year. America, yes, but that was far into the future.

Maria is just about to offer the gentleman in front of her her hands in greeting when another victim appears. Another German!, is her first thought at the very obvious dialect. She loves his hair. But it means, her assumption was wrong, she is not an outlier. Her hands come to a rest on her stomach, fingertips meeting. “Good day, it seems you are as lost as we are,” she greets the newcomer with a bussinesslike smile. Anxious underneath, she has rediscovered her poise. No use in showing them her weak, helpless self. They will be very insecure themselves, no need to add her own feelings to that mixture. “You’re German, aren’t you? How peculiar, whoever put us here, was not bound by borders, it seems.”

The green-haired woman is interrupted by the crash in one of the unopened rooms. A very young girl joins them. She looks barely out of her teens, if she has left them at all. Pity stirs in Maria. That girl has barely left her nest. A confused frown crosses her face, when Nia shows her notebook. ‘Mafia, Auge, Brettspiel… No, wait, English! Mafi-eye-… my…n-ame… urina… oh… pissing… -s-kneea- Nia…’ Maria’s frown lifts, though she is unable to use sign language, she tries to convey what she says with gestures, too: “Hello, Nia, I assume you are unable to talk.” She points to her mouth and to Nia, then crosses her arms. “Can you hear?” Again she points to Nia, then to her ear. “Or do you need us to write back?” Pointing between Nia and herself, a back and forth motion and then a writing motion.

Fully concentrated to try to talk to Nia and to implement her into their weird circle, Maria does not see Jasper come out of his room. She all but flinches when she sees him enter her field of vision. He is not at all intimidating to her, but the whole situation lets her be jumpier than she likes. After taking a step back, she greets him with a slightly forced smile, trying to cover up her carelessness and terror. “Good day, it seems we are all in the same truly discourteous position of being involuntary guests here, young man.”

    The older gentleman waited patiently for the young lady to gather herself together to be able to respond, his smile warm and gentle with rosy cheeks underneath his silver and white facial hair. The kindness in his green eyes behind those old glasses he wore full of patience and understanding. They were in a confusing situation, that very would could be dangerous. But when she had spoken, it gave the man an impression that she was certainly not native to America. Not with that polite tone or ways of speaking. But he couldn’t quite place just where she was from. Then again, his own voice no doubt didn’t give away his own origins.

       “I’m about as well as one can be, madam. Curious and cautious, but not in a panic just yet.”  He nodded then, but before anything else could be said, another door had happened. Making the older gentleman stand tall at his full height of 6 foot 8 inches, while one hand lifted and gingerly tilted his hat slightly. Almost like it may be a careful tick of a sort. But he saw another in the same sort of uniform they all wore, to a degree anyway. Ah, a German! The older gentleman smiles, and in flawless accent or dialect, he speaks, “Guten Morgen. As the lady speaks, yes, seems borders mean little.” Hean takes a moment to ease and put together light context clues. From the various doors against the walls around this common room of a sort, and the words of that screen before, each one no doubt led too others taken here.

       As if on cue another of their unfortunate room mates had come out, after a surprising noise. One silvery eyebrow lifted then as he gazed at the young lady, so very young! She could have been mistaken for someone in high school! Hean was so very surprised at someone of this age suddenly joining them, and concern filled his form. “Oh, my… You poor little one.” His voice was soft. Then he caught reading, and immediately understood. A mute, but maybe not deaf? Maria had it covered, asking her questions of how to communicate first. Oh, he liked this woman already. Swift and too the point. “A pleasure meeting you acquaintance Nia-”

        Before he himself could offer a name just yet, there was the slamming open of the door which made the old man jump slightly and turn around. “Good heavens!” He proclaimed, a thick Russian accent escaping him for a moment before he cleared his throat and pushed it back down. Now regaining his composure a bit as the careful gaze of his looked the new man up and down. “As the madam says, we are here involuntarily. But I would go as far as to say ‘Guests’ is a kind term for what we clearly are here. Captives.” He turned his eyes around them now to look at the walls, the low quality furniture, and how everything seemed just a bit too… Sterile? No. Blank? More fitting. It was like this was- “Hm, a corrections facility, perhaps…?”

        The older gentleman took this chance to look around the gathered individuals around him. All of them so much younger than he was obviously, while he towered over most of them. An immediate click inside him on instinct, become the leading professor he once was for the younger generations. Be something of a calming factor perhaps? Then again, who could be truly calm in this place. “My name is Hean Feramin, everyone. I am a Professor of many talents-, or I was, before all of this…” And his long arms opened, waving about at their surroundings in a vague motion. “Take deep breaths, everyone. Let us go about introductions, and know one another, then work together to figure a way out of this mess.”

        It would be important for them all to keep a calm and cool head on their shoulders. Panicking in this situation would get each of them nowhere, especially if whom ever had kidnapped all of them was watching, even now. If this place really was a correctional facility, then there would be security cameras everywhere. Except for the strategically placed blind spots. The key was trying to find them.

Taking in all the new faces, Mana was very disoriented and anxious. They were all as mismatched as a group of people could be! Well--aside from the green haired woman who had addressed him first. Her accent was similar to his own, which gave him some comfort. But beside him was an old man--a professor, he called himself?--and what looked like two teenagers. Everyone sported the same strange uniform, and loss of memory.

The mention of a corrections facility made his blood run cold. Corrections was jail, wasn’t it? Incarceration? But he hadn’t done anything! He never stole, payed his bills on time, fit into American society perfectly. He’d never hurt anyone...

No...had they figured it out? Had they found the truth?

No! No one knew. He was safe. It was an accident--an ACCIDENT! He didn’t mean it. People don’t get arrested for accidents. An accident...

Mana hadn’t realized until Hean proposed introductions and he snapped out of his daze, that he’d been gripping tightly at his forearm. Upon release, he could feel a firm, pulsing pain left behind.

“Ah--hallo, Nia!” Mana waved to the younger looking girl, “You too, Mr. Hean, Miss Maria.” He nodded to each, respectively. He was going to address the fourth, but it occurred to him the boy had not introduced himself yet. He cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“Um, I am Mana. I am just as confused as everyone else, it seems.” He scratched the back of his neck, anxious and fidgety. He glanced to the last boy in the room, offering a friendly smile.

Jace hummed a little to himself as he hopped the trio of steps onto the porch. 

This house had been on his list of places to check out for a little while. It’d been rumored that strange sounds had come from inside and sometimes, a sooty handprint would appear on the panes.  A lot of places had pretty similar stories, though, and around Tempo, there were a LOT of stories. The place was either very haunted, or trying very hard to be. 

And that suited him just fine, honestly! At least it was interesting, trying to figure out if it was actually supernatural or not. And sometimes he helped when it wasn’t and made a difference! Like that time that antique store owner had a carbon monoxide leak.

So far he hadn’t had much luck with anything real, but with a place overrun with potential ghost stories like Tempo, it kind of made sense. If there were real ones, they’d be in a haystack. He’d really have to dig to find them.

Jace hummed as he looked around the first floor. Most wallpaper had been stripped and faded with time, where any of it remained. There had been a fire here decades ago, which was how the ghost story had started. And said fire had eaten away at most everything it had touched. Most of the furniture looked like it might crumble if you touched it, and the walls and floor had scorch marks, blackened now with a few patches of carpet or wallpaper as mementos of what it used to be. 

Opening a few drawers and swinging his light around the room, he didn’t see much of interest. Most everything fire hadn’t touched, time wore away. It was dusty enough to see his shoeprints on the floor, particles filtering through the beam of his flashlight where they’d been kicked up, and ashes discoloring the rubber soles of his shoes. He should’ve worn his boots really, but he’d come here right after work since it was a further drive.

But at least the place seemed stable. Only some of the floorboards creaked, and none of them did with the groan like they were preparing to give way. From what he’d read, the fire hadn’t done much structural damage, but the death in the family had been enough to ruin any chances of rebuilding. 

He could understand. If his mum had passed in some disaster at home when he’d lived there, he couldn’t see them trying to put the pieces back together without her. It would be painful to live in a place she was so obviously absent from.

He hummed as he continued through the house. A few more boards creaked underfoot, and through one of the hallways, he found a pair of doors and the continuation of the hall, like a T intersection. The left went into a bathroom, and the right was a study of some kind. 

He moved on for now instead, and arrived in a living room. The couch looked ready to dissolve into cinders with a touch, and the rug was charred beneath a coffee table that was half eaten away, but it looked like it would’ve been a nice setup once. The rest of the room was even darker than the first, even the ceiling burned away to the wooden supports beneath, which themselves were blackened in spots. The floor crunched under his feet and flecks of what might’ve been the floor came off and scattered, clinging to his shoes and then fluttering away. The only thing really untouched was the fireplace, but even that had soot stains. The ash bucket was still full, the contents white from the fine layer of dust. 

He continued looking around, and found a twin set of stairs. One went up, a long set of steps climbing over where he’d seen the study at. The others descended into what looked like a basement. Jace flicked his light between the two, before stepping from the landing onto the first stair up. It protested, but held his weight, and he took the next, all the way to the top with a hand tracing the wall. 

The top room appeared to be a hall of bedrooms. The walls were still a pale blue, stained an off color and the paint peeling near the ceiling from what he could assume was smoke damage. There were three rooms, and then what was clearly a bathroom, from the tile and the basin he could see, and the mirror above with bounce the light back towards himself.

Well. He might as well start from the top and then work his way down.

 He swiped the dust off his hands, and then Jace reached into the bag slung over a shoulder and nestled against his waist. He pulled out a video camera, waited for the light to blink on to show he was recording, and he spoke. “This is Jace Blake– I’m inside the old Green Estate. So far, no sign of anything obviously supernatural, but it’s still early. We’re starting from the top and checking out some of the bedrooms now. While we do and keep our eyes out, I’ll be fill in anyone who doesn’t know about the history of the house.” 

He continued speaking softly as he trotted along over protesting floorboards and dusty rugs, eyes darting about with the periodic glance at the camera’s screen. He opened the door furthest from the landing, so he could work his way back to the stairs.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he could sense. It felt like a third energy was here, aside from his own and the lingering spirit. This one was bright and vibrant, with a grey tint on the outermost edges. Cheerful and kind, but not without its own sadness. Was he not alone here? Had someone beat him to it? A civilian was going to make things complicated...

Ana had sent him ahead to scope the location out for any connections to their case here. So far it wasn’t anything remarkable, other than the lingering traumatized spirit and now, an extra body to deal with. But he’d yet to make his way inside—everything could change in an instant, and he had to be alert. Mana sighed, on an even higher alert than before, and made his way in.

His senses prickled as soon as he touched the front door. Hair stood on end as he stepped inside, looking around the charred remains. There were a lot of memories in this home—good times with family, silly arguments that turned into fights, tears spilt onto the once pristine wooden floors. And of course, the lingering heaviness of death in the soot, making the whole house feel like molasses. He could hear someone talking upstairs, floorboards creaking as someone made their way around. They we’re definitely mundane, judging by the way their aura stayed close to their body with a faint, humming glow. They felt harmless enough, but Mana had made the mistake of assuming before. He wasn’t eager to get shot at again any time soon.

- A Samurai Jack assassin AU RP

- Selective (mutuals and such only)

- Canon divergent

-18+ only (mun is old)

-5 years on off RP expereince