Between Dust, Books and Dried Flowers

Rules

*Regarding Asks...

You can send asks - anonymously or with a profile. Magic!Anons are also welcome to come and haunt this blog. While asks to the mun are welcome, they must be related to the blog.

*Regarding Interactions/Roleplaying...

RPs are also welcome no matter the length. I usually try to keep the post length short though by removing reposts and quoting the last reply instead before adding my own to improve readability.

*Regarding Etiquette...

This blog will not be featuring NSFW content. It might dabble into horror though (trigger warnings apply).

[Noticed it would be smart to make this one pinned post]

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

Delilah’s being still held a small tremor to it as her eyes burrowed into the blank paper. A horrible feeling settling upon her as she realized that her reaction may have severed whatever was holding the connection they had steady. Now things were most certainly unstable if that was the case. Like a rocking boat at sea without a sail or anchor. The two were more or less at the mercy of whatever was within the room with them till something could properly close the channel itself. At the loss of Glenn’s hand, Delilah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She truly had wanted to help Glenn - even if it was something as small as a clue or faint flicker of something. However, now that their source of information had drifted away, she felt a sense of failure gnawing at her mind. Something deep she hadn’t felt in quite a long time. When she finally tore her gaze from the blank paper, her voice had tried to form the words of an apology to the man. Said words dying as she gazed at the rippling injury taking over the man’s skin. In the candle light, the details (tendrils?) flickered in and out of the shadows. Like quiet taunts of imagination and reality. “Glenn, are you alright? Your skin seems more agitated than before.” She managed, tapped her own collar to mirror his own.

“I...”

The words dragged themselves up his dry throat, only to die on his tongue. His lungs felt like they were filled with water, and it was hard to breathe.

“I-i...”

What was there to say? A thousand words unsaid, feelings unspoken, gratitude unexpressed. Yet the hungry pulsing under his fingertips reminded him: He would not be able to fit them all. Choose now and choose wisely.

That was it, right? There wasn't much time left, now that it was...

Glenn finally broke under the pressure, tears flowing down his cheeks when he realised these might be the last words he would be allowed to speak. Hastily pushing down the sobs, he choked out: “I'm sorry.”

Cliché and pathetic. Words of a sad man, who had too many regrets in his life. But that had not been all his life, had it? He had enjoyed it for far longer than he had suffered it - and even in troubling times, he had made fine friends. Friends who had cheered him up and did whatever they could to help him, to fight his fear and confusion and loneliness. Wasn't a moment like this meant to reflect that?

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

Delilah quietly read along the words as they appeared, trying to make sense of them. Taking an extra moment to reread them a few times for extra measure. For some reason it seemed more - frantic than the earlier scribing. Not something one would write when left to their own leisure like she’d normally expect. Much less so with what she could only assume was a warning. “I wonder what it is.” She thought out loud, tapping the end of the pen on the table. She could only assume it was something in a similar plane as a spirit, but the implication made her believe it was more powerful. At least more so to frighten whomever was communicating with them. But then that brought the issue of it getting faster and stronger. Were they in danger opening a channel of communication? Should she try to take more precautions? Were there any precautions they could take? Her mind felt like it was drowning in a sea of endless horrific possibilities. All of which ending in a horrific unknown. “Oh! Yes that’s a lovely question.” Delilah perked up slightly at the request, straightening her posture to look somewhat more composed as she spoke “Who is speaking to us?” Just as she was going to add an additional “Who is it?” her eyes couldn’t help but snag onto the faint ripple coming from nearby Glenn. Or more accurately from Glenn. Her eyes widening in horror as the tentacle fell to the ground. She jerked backwards instinctively, a scream escaping her as her boot kicked at the air the lone tentacle had once been. She looked at the scientist wide eyed, slowly turning to take a moment to look around the floor. Her face frowning as she’d realized that not only had the tentacle disappeared, but she’d thrown the pen in her shock. The small pieces having shattered themselves across the room, bleeding a light blue onto the floor. “Don’t worry, I have another.” She announced, awkwardly pulling out another less extravagant calligraphy pen from her pocket. Placing the tip back onto the paper, she repositioned herself into her original place. “While we are asking, can you tell us who it is?”

Glenn's mind was too busy, too focused to register anything going on, much less react to it. His thoughts were consumed by the same onslaught of possibilities that had assaulted his new friend, though the horrific sides left him much less fazed - for now. Scientific curiosity and cold rationality can only keep you safe for so long. Reality would always claw its way through focus, reminding you, one way or another.

With a sudden scream and the shattering of glass, for example.

Glenn, still a little dazed, looked up in confusion. His gaze darted around in panic, trying to find the reason for Delilah's commotion. But there was nothing to take notice of, except a faint, dark spot on the floor to his right. It was rather hard to spot in the dim light, so he wasn't quite sure if it had been there before. Maybe, the glass artist had seen something he could not, or her nerves had played a trick on her. Whatever it had been, she composed herself quickly enough for Glenn to blame it on the tension, and he readily offered his hand for the next attempt as soon as she had retrieved another glinting quill from her collection.

It was only after she announced her question aloud once more that the horrors began.

This time there was no reply. No quill scratching paper, no misshapen letters, no warnings. Just empty silence. At first, the scientist simply thought it matter of connection. They had needed some starting time before, too, so why not this time? Plus, they had forcibly cut communications. Maybe that was hindering the reestablishment of their line. But... there was something wrong. Glenn didn't know what though... it was hard to put a finger on it... Just a feeling, coiling in his gut, sending fear through his veins and ice down his spine. And then came the itching. Barely noticeable at first, becoming worse the second you realise it is there, like any regular mosquito bite. It was hard to ignore those, especially when you have one hand occupied and the other... well, engulfed by a rather spongy mass? And so the itch grew in tandem with Glenn's awareness until he could bear it no longer. He pulled his hand from Delilah's and reached for his shoulder. When the scratching through his shirt proved to bring only little relief, he reached into his collar, but his fingernails did not scrape familiar skin.

It was softer. More pliable. Yet it had a feeling of liquid consistency to it, like the taunt pulled skin of blisters. And it pulsed. And it stretched. Like a thick vein it crawled under his skin, from the direction of his shoulder up his neck.

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

A small laugh could be heard at the joke, the artist clearly not expecting it in the silence as she worked. While she didn’t necessarily have an antiquate joke to respond with, it was clear enough she enjoyed the idle noise the conversation brought. In fact, having a casual conversation with tea sounded like a welcome change of pace. A small slice of normality in comparison to just about everything else her life had snowballed into. Now that she actually thought about it, she didn’t know the last time she’d properly sat down and tried any teas. Perhaps she’d have to let Glenn take the reins on that one - it seemed to be something he’d be more knowledgeable in. “I have to agree. But the key elements are here.” She took a moment to think, trying to piece together the best way to elaborate in a way that would make some form of sense. “It’s like an electrical circuit? Your scar is like a battery while our hands act as wires for the spirits to move through. And, if all goes well, they should be able to communicate to us through the pen and paper as a result.” Her eyes flicked to the stagnant pen in question. A tad disappointed nothing had particularly happened to prove her point yet. Maybe she had set something up wrong? It was a bit hard for her to tell on first glance. She looked up at Glenn, sitting so patiently for what was slowly seeming to be her making a fool of herself. Just as she was about to apologize to the man, tell him their tea time chat might be sooner than they thought, something prickled in the background of her mind. It was faint, but just enough to make their presence known. She let her hand go limp, allowing the force to slowly move her hand and the pen until the message was properly written out. A sound of surprise escaped her, her grip on the scientists hand tightening as her voice slowly trickling into a quiet laugh of relief as she leaned forward to read the paper. “How we can help? Are you stuck somewhere?” Delilah asked, her gaze rising to Glenn in case he wanted to ask anything else.

TW for (more explicit) body horror from here on

The hand waited, muscles relaxed as if the signal had gone cold. A moment, then another. Finally, the quill scratched the paper again:

It moves. Caution discarded. Stronger now. Faster.

Glenn's eyes were glued to the paper, just like Delilah's. Behind his yellow eyes, the gears turned and turned, analysing the words, the phrasing, the writing itself. Whoever this was, they were in a hurry, unable to write more than a few words at a time. Were they weak? Dying? Struggling with the 'it' they had mentioned? Or simply having difficulty navigating a hand that was not theirs? The way the letters looked like what you'd expect from a child, suggesting the latter. However, there was something familiar about it, too. The way the C curved, the quick strokes of the R...

“Can you ask who is writing?”

Glenn's infected arm still hung at his side, completely unmoving. No, not quite...

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

Delilah beamed at the compliment, a wave of pride surging within her as she watched Glenn take some time to properly explore the room. She hadn’t expected the man to be so drawn to everything. Much less be so engrossed with the way everything reflected. “If you’d like, you can pick something out while I set up.” She offered, giving the man a small pat on the back. Her smile only falling as her eyes lingered on the reflections’ behaviour. Saying it unnerved her was an understatement. Much more so considering it seemed Glenn was none the wiser to it. Despite her better judgment, she jabbed the glass on a particularly distorted reflection. A small part of her hoping it would shoo it away. When it remained, she stepped back, slowly turning it away. The colors of the floral design trickling elsewhere into the room like leaking water. “There’s no need to apologize- You can explore and ask as many questions as you’d like. Besides- I’d quite like to pick your brain about some science related things as well if that’s alright.“ The glass artist said, bussing herself with collecting a few materials for the ritual. “The seance should be fairly open and shut id imagine,” She paused to look into a small cupboard of pieces that shined eerily similar to the way the haunted ones on her belt did. She closed it slowly, seemingly content with keeping it semi accessible as they worked. “I can only see it going wrong if one of us does something to disrupt it majorly.” As she placed the final pieces onto the table, it ironically looked fairly plain for something to speak to spirits. A white cloth with a few candles decorated the table. The only thing really standing out was a small glass pen she’d set on top of a piece of parchment. As soon as Glenn had taken his seat, Delilah dimmed the lights, the slight flickering of the candles being the only thing illuminating her she sat down. “Let’s begin.” She gently placed one of Glenn’s hands into her own her other taking the pen and placing onto the paper. “If any spirits are here who wish to make their presence known, please use my hand as a medium to write to us.”

Glenn chuckled: “Picking the brain of a scientist who researches the mind, huh?”

It was a stupid joke, an almost childish one, sure, but it helped melt his anxiety further nonetheless. He took his seat, hands folded in his lap as he waited patiently for Delilah to gather and prepare whatever was needed, making small talk on the side: “... Anyway, yes, let's have a nice talk when this is over. Perhaps over a warm cup of tea.”

Once she was done and took his hand in hers, Glenn raised an eyebrow, mumbling: “That's such a simple set up...”

There was no mockery in his words, just doubt and curiosity, marking his inexperience in the field. Then again, not all complicated problems needed complicated solutions. Simplicity was often the key - and equally often overlooked. Why couldn't this be such a case? And so he simply shut up and waited, quiting his racing mind and focusing it on the pen in the hopes that would help.

... A moment passed. Then another. And another. Accumulating to a minute. And beyond. Silence stretching between until focus became awkwardness. Still, Glenn tried his best to be open and supportive - even if he wasn't quite sure how to do that in such a context. Whatever he did, it eventually seemed to work: There was a touch at the back of Delilah's mind, like a gentle knock to announce one's presence. No words exchanged, no form taken, just... A feeling, a tickle travelling down her spine, through the neurons in her arm, reaching her hand. A finger twitched, then another. Their movement guided by someone who had forgotten how to move a body. The first letters came out unpracticed and wobbly:

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

Delilah nodded, her hand absentmindedly tapping on one of the glass pieces dangling from her belt. While she couldn’t see anything, she felt certain something was lingering.. far too keen to watch everything for her liking. Her eyes flicked around warily, only landing back onto the scientist when she felt certain enough that she could chalk it up to paranoia. “Oh- Are you alright?” Now that she was able to fully register the man’s appearance, his mannerisms were a bit concerning. He was much more spacey than before. Quiet too, but she supposed that could simply be due to the man being more of an introvert than anything else. She decided to take a mental note of it for now and keep an eye on the man just in case. “Then our home base is set! It should be just a short walk from here,” She gently grabbed the scientist’s hand to lead him down the hall. Making an effort to keep her grip loose enough for the man to let go if he so wished. As they walked, she did her best to fill the silence, trying to describe the room the best she could before they got there. Mentioning small things like the chairs or small window that let light in. Eventually, she interrupted herself as she stopped in front of a basic wooden door, opening it with a small metal key. Before holding it open for Glenn to enter. While it was apparent that it was originally a basic storeroom, the small beams of light trickling in made the half-finished pieces littering the room glitter with warping colors. It all had a bit of an organized chaos of items. Various mobiles hanging from the ceiling and spinning lazily, vases full of materials, and panes of designs resting on the walls like drying canvas. In fact, the most organized area seemed to be the workspace itself, the tools all having a distinct home within a large workbench nuzzled in the corner. The chairs she'd mentioned were there as well, sitting by a small table with a glass mosaic top. Although their placement within the room seemed a bit comedic, as it was apparent the artist had tried to keep the area around them somewhat tidy in comparison. Leaving quite the barren space around it. -Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Glenn flinched ever so slightly when the glass artist took hold of his hand. The feeling of skin on skin had become a foreign one, and while it's return surprised him, he found himself greeting it with open arms. It made him feel safe, known and cared for - like he did not have to go through this alone. A nice feeling.

With this newfound courage lifting the corners of his lips, he followed Delilah to the plain door, gasping at the treasure that lay behind it. Glass was a wondrous thing, reflecting and refracting the light onto the surfaces in all kinds of shiny shapes and colours. For a moment, Glenn was a little child again, with only wonder in his eyes and curiosity in his heart - entirely oblivious to the mess surrounding them. Gently tugging his hand free, he wandered through the room, head turning in awe.

“It's beautiful”, he whispered, checking on how the glass warped his own reflection with fascination. His eyes were shining brightly - maybe too brightly - and, if one looked carefully, not all of his reflections moved with him, instead craning their necks to watch him with their yellow eyes whenever he had his back turned.

After a moment, Glenn remembered their reason for coming here: “Ah... apologies! This is all just so very interesting. And also my first time in a workshop like this. If we have the time after... this, I'd love to ask you a few questions. Or maybe watch you work. But unpleasant things first!”

He sat down at the table where Delilah was already waiting. “Let us start! The sooner we got over with this, the better!”

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

"That's alright. Don't work yourself into a tizzy. I asked more out of curiosity." Delilah clarified, her tone gentle despite the bluntness of her words. "It was a silly question on my end. But it is good to have our bases covered, you know?" She gave the man a small pat on the shoulder, giving him a small smile in an attempt to help calm the scientist's nerves a bit. It was a small gesture, but Delilah wanted Glenn to know that he could trust her to help. Although the silence from the specters rang in the glass artist's ears, it was a dreadful, eerie silence. It was somehow almost louder than when they had been active. She glanced around the room, noticing that the spirits that had been whisping around her seemed to have also vanished. "Odd.." She muttered more so to herself than the scientist. It was a small moment of the artist seemingly looking at nothing before she blinked free of her self-induced trance. "Ah- sorry. I seemed to have spaced off again. Yes, we can change locations if you'd like." Delilah hesitated, seemingly narrowing down any locations she might know off of the top of her head. "We could use my workroom. Its located in one of the old storerooms and most of the materials I have in there should be stored securely enough it shouldn't cause us too much grief." Plus, she was quite curious if the spirits would feel more enticed to return if there was other calmer activity floating around. "If not that, I do believe there's another storeroom nearby that could work just as well. We just might have to clear some space for ourselves." -Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“Um... Yeah...”

Glenn feared the curtness of her words, yet in all her gestures there was a warmth that reassured him. Was he thinking too much again? Gosh, maybe he was! He did tend to do that a lot... right? No, it had not been this bad lately... Or generally? No, no, he had always been like this, just less anxious. And then there was something - no someone! - who had helped him feel more secure... then something else happened, and ever since it had been almost gone all together. But what was it that had happened? And who had helped him before? Thinking about it made his head hurt. But it was there, right there, in the back of his mind, terribly wobbly but taking more shape with each passing second. If he just focused enough, maybe...

Delilah's list of possible work sites called him from his thoughts, shattering the glassiness in his eyes and made his head jerk up.

“W-what? Oh, yeah, um... Your workshop seems like a fine option? Giving you the home advantage and all?”

“Hello? My name is Delilah Fowler. I’m scheduled to have a match with you tomorrow.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten the opportunity to play together before and was hoping we could exchange strategies before the match itself. I can stay here in the hallway if that’s more convenient for you.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time Hiatus be dammed I need to know what happened to Glenn 🫵

Delilah jumped as the shadow flew by. A pang of dread flooded her mind as it desperately tried to catch up with the scene at hand. However, just as quickly as it had started, the room returned to normal. She blinked, shocked at the suddenness of it all. Was something larger than the spirits themselves trying to protest? Or were the flickering souls truly this powerful on their own? She honestly hoped she hadn’t gotten too in over her head with this. "A reaction? That does sound promising.” Much more so as they seemed to be getting reactions simply by standing in the hallway. She could only imagine what could have occurred in the library itself. “Out of curiosity, what occurred exactly? If there’s any items involved we might be able to recreate the scenario slightly.” That was of course, also assuming this entity functioned like the spirits she’d felt with before. For all she knew, this could have been something completely unrelated to the setting, but something the two were discussing or physically doing that triggered the event. While it was their best bet though considering what was known, it did leave her mentally preparing for any pivoting she might have to do. “I think it would be in our benefit.“ Delilah responded with a nod. “Many spirits have patterns to their hauntings. If the library happens to have something that could be one of them, it might be the best spot in the manor to do it.” “Although, if you have anything from the trip where you revived your injury. I do think that could help entice the entity as well.” -Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“I-i am unsure? My memories of the incident are rather hazy... All I can remember is the place.”

That sounded stupid. Hopefully, she did not judge him for it... A scientist with poor memory - how incompetent! Maybe he should have just shut up to begin with!

Ugh, this was so hard! Usually, what he felt, did, thought came all so clearly to him. But right now it seemed like there were a thousand options and deciding on any of them felt like an equally bad idea. Had there always been so many choices available?

Delilah could notice that, since the flashing shadow, the ghosts had almost gone entirely quiet and Glenn had shrunk even more, shoulders slouching and yellow eyes darting around, like his head was filled with nothing but doubt and anxiety. In contrast, his arm had grown calmer and somehow... more concentrated. It did not bode well.