╱ A House and Its Esoteric Ways ╲ -- [ with iMarionette]

[TeaPlease]

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.

It always wins because it is everywhere.

It is in the wood that burns in your hearth, and in the kettle on the fire; it is under your chair and under your table and under the sheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun, and the dark is with you, attached to the soles of your feet.

The brightest light casts the darkest shadow.”

 

Atmosphere courtesy of:

 

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Story inspired by:

 

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'1947-- Orange Groove News: The house on 23rd Street was the scene of a grizzly murder this mornin', bringing the death toll of the house to a considerable--'

'on 23rd Street, the murderer Mr. Lewis Washington caught and turned into custody after the bodies of several of his family members, including children and wife were found'

The papers are wilted now, buried under floorboards and planks of wood, used as resting places for animals. The yellowed, crinkled stories float into the back of the town's image, as it presents itself in color of homely and sweet- the perfect little country atmosphere for all new-comers. Their faces are welcoming, moods cheerful and tying into a feeling of community and utter connectedness amongst all its inhabitants. But news of each new person's arrival to that rickety old place casts shadows longer than any could count or fathom, and not all of them come from sun's downcast on this news...

 

"That house is acursed with the angry souls and I says to my children they ain't to go nowhere near it, poor people gettin' driven to right madness"

"It's all for show, these people know the history and try to exploit that house's horrible past; just ain't right, I say, just ain't right, no curse there, just the folk's minds gone all askew, is what I say"

 

The people did not greet this new one, and pitied from afar. The season leaned to Spring, the sun out and shining down upon the land as if it were blessed. Safe. A new haven. But the darkest shadows lurked in there, creeping about the corners and overwhelming the house with a sense of foreboding.

 

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

 

His hand came up to shield himself from the sun, eyes squinting as he walked out to be in the shade of a tree that loomed over. Who was this young man, with this set expression and thoughtful gaze? If only the walls could talk, Johnny-boy, and tell you, already, what horrors await...

 

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“To die would be an awfully big adventure.”

-J.M. Barrie

 

ℕame (Last, first): Breno Del Bosque

 

♏eaning/Translation of Name (If applicable): Raven of the Forest

 

Åge: 28

 

ℋeight and Weight: 5'8'', 147 pounds.

 

╔

 

 

 

╝

 

Åppearance: Breno has very androgynous facial features at first glance, with a slim face and a hooked nose, eyes deep-set and ringed with telling sleep-habits. His father told her she had ‘goat eyes’, due to the puffy bags of his eyelids. On closer inspection, he… isn’t honestly much different. Breno has an olive-like skin-tone, darkened with the sun's kiss from many times spent out and about in farms and forests, and dark, long hair, which curls and spirals in a very messy type of way. He often keeps it back in a low ponytail or pinned up so it appears that he has shorter hair, when it gets to such a length. Breno isn’t one to be very… worried with his looks, and doesn’t much care about his appearance to people, allowing his eyebrows to remain pretty thick. His ears are slightly pointed, and the earlobe seems to narrow out in an odd way, though they are often hidden behind his hair.

He’s somewhat lanky, with wide shoulders and a narrowed waist, though the slight curve of his hips adds to a feminine look, unfortunately. Down below are long, toned legs and also pretty large feet, which add to his long-fingered hands. His expression is always very frank and somber. Breno has a rather odd slit, very faint, beginning from his cheek and stretching outward to the other. It’s extremely hard to see.

►₦oticable features:

He has his birthmark across his neck, many people mistaking it for a bad rash that spans up to the edge of his chin. It’s very noticeable. His ears could also be considered quite noticeable.

 

ℙersonality: As his expression would tell, he is a very frank person. Breno, simply put, does not like to bullshit. He does not hand out niceties to those he feels do not deserve them. He will not make conversation to those of whom he deems stupid. And he will tell you this—point-blank and simple. Do not let this deter you, though. To all new people, Breno will wait and not automatically assume or place a label on a person. If he is to gauge someone, he must enter without any variables clouding the equation. This also adds to him. Breno likes to think of things as lengthy equations waiting to be unraveled, and greater mysteries to be expressions. Although it is all a very logical way to approach things, Breno can also be very illogical. He is constantly thinking of things that don’t necessarily make sense, which is, again, all in equation-like form. He can be very stubborn, and is usually very well-prepared.

As his trade would tell you as a researcher, he is very much interested in history of all kinds and enjoys a good mystery. Even if it is solved, he enjoys getting underneath the reasons for everything, exploring the past, and what more could so lurk behind a case. It gives an adventurous spike to Breno, who is led on by the dark shadows that lurk across things to be uncovered..

►₮icks/Habits/Quirks:

He has trouble speaking in English when he becomes impassioned.

 

∅bsessions: Mysteries, Histories, Mythologies and all that decide to fall under them.

 

ℙersonal History: Breno grew up in Portugal with his family, an odd mix of Nordic blood and Spanish flavors. As a child, he was raised on a small farm and taught to do work from a very early age. Due to this, he is very hard-working, and put much effort into all his jobs and duties, no matter how small the task may be, a trait he has not lost in his adulthood. He lived in Portugal for three years before an event that occurred spurred his family to move to America, settling in Florida and slowly making their way upward throughout the years.

 

Because of the new educational opportunities granted to him and his other three siblings, they were all very excited about learning. However, in the new school system they had the bad luck of being seen as simpletons and mere immigrants, their thick accents teased mercilessly by other children. Though Breno was the most logical and well-educated of the group, he was also a volatile mix of blood, and often got into fights, beating kids twice his size to a pulp if he were to dig his nails into them quick enough.

The reputation followed him, no matter how many moves occurred, and the same behavior constantly lashed out. After years of practice and patience, in High School, he finally managed to restrain his anger and violence and let his intelligence and thirst for more shine through. Breno graduated after his older brother and went into college whilst juggling helping his eldest brother with a new family business.

Breno graduated with a degree in English Literature three years ago, along with one in Journalism. This added to his position now as a hunter of types of old, historical locations- be them murder mysteries or just plain interesting.

►₦otable Moments/Memories:

Nothing much of interest. He remembers exploring a cave on one particular trip back to their homeland when he was about eight, but that was just really fun and a staple of his childhood.

 

ℰxtra Information: ✕

 

✲✲✲✲✲

 

He approached the old building, the wind chimes outdoor swayed by the wind, the tinkles greeting him. Gaze focused upon the door, he opened it and stepped inside. Breno was undeterred by the house's history; in fact, it attracted him even moreso. The dust in the air was seen with the sun spilling through partially cracked windows and the open door, flitting about like twirling figures. The young man heaved his suitcase into the house, the creaking from its added weight and the new movement of a new inhabitant sounding like a sigh, a groan.

After unpacking his little belongings for his few months stay, cleaning out and filling up the cupboards with plates, cups, and food to cook, Breno wrote down the fixes that would have to be made. The electricity was long outdated, prone to going-out, which would be fixed at a later date, along with making some adjustments to the floors. The final thing on his list was to purchase a clock. He did need to track the time.

 

After all these things had been done, it was well into the late afternoon. Breno turned on the television, static welcoming him, and settled downstairs onto the old couch that he'd moved in on his second visit to the house. There, he worked and played, tapping away e-mails to contacts and wrapping himself up in a blanket to enjoy a movie on his laptop (previously charged, lest there was no electricity) and drink some tea. The shadows lurking about bothered him not, and he comforted himself in the descending night without any problems.

 

The poor boy did not know what fate he'd brought upon himself.

[iMarionette]

 

"I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched."

-E. A. Poe

 

 

ℕame: ??? Avira

 

♏eaning/Translation of Name: air, spirit

 

Åge: ??? 21-26

 

ℋeight and Weight: 5’11’’, 143 pounds.

 

╔

 

 

╝

 

Åppearance: tall, thin and light-boned; Avira is a silhouette painted on the walls of a house forgotten, erased from memory. He is bony, with sharp hips and hollow collarbones, his neck milky-white and seemingly fragile. Eyes haunted by shadow have long ago lost their shine; grey orbs are tortured by yellowish flecks of insanity. Narrow nose ends sharply, leading to lips that are dry and cracked. His hair spills over his shoulders and down his back; light curls of very pale blonde, probably caused by scarce distribution of pigment. His skin just alike, a sickly white; whispering of years long ago and the sun’s sweet caress, it knows only of night and moonlight.

►₦oticeable features:

long, narrow, jagged cuts; drawing from both his wrists to the forearms.

 

ℙersonality: once upon a time, Avira was a lighthearted boy. Young, carefree, a smile never far from his lips. Avira today, however, can only be a shadow of that image. His lips do stretch into an occasional grin; a smile brought of pleasure, of a lost lover, a new corpse. But he is shaped by the stories that townsfolk tell and he no longer knows of himself. There is no Avira who thinks or acts upon thought. He is no longer a person with petty likes, expressive dislikes or colourful nightmares. Avira today – is the nightmare. And yet underneath this creature there is still the boy, perhaps; a boy with a clear mind and low blood-pressure, who used to faint in the hallways and fall down the stairs. Sometimes, this boy appears.

►₮icks/Habits/Quirks:

He joyfully glides around the house and plays with its guests; the spiders, the rats, the people.

 

∅bsessions: human body; skin, bone, blood and oh that beautiful hair.

 

ℙersonal History: Avira is someone that does not exist except in stories. He is a boy that few remember and, those that do, wish they did not. His family once lived in the house that he is now bound to; a house that many avoid, for fear that it is haunted. And haunted it may be, though Avira is no ghost, not entirely so. He comes in and goes freely (though where, that is unknown; perhaps he disappears into thin air). And sometimes new families move inside the house. Then Avira is most entertained, whispering promises into children’s ears or slowly driving a healthy mind away from grown women and men. Yes, most entertaining. Ah, but before that, what was there before? Avira’s own family. Even before Avira, there had been strange stories; children disappearing and people going insane. Avira, too, disappeared. He does not remember who lured him away, but he found his way back; and he is here to stay.

►₦otable Moments/Memories:

Avira’s mother was a woman with a kind face. Her eyes were honey-brown, soft, gentle. Last time Avira saw that face, it was swelling with bruises. The nose had been smashed in (courtesy of a hammer, probably) and several teeth knocked out. Her pale blonde hair was sticky with blood.

 

ℰxtra Information: the form that is already more ghost-like than human does come with its perks; Avira glides through walls and dances with the shadows. Small noises may indicate that he is there, but he will not always show himself to the eye. Perhaps these are tricks of the light, or perhaps Avira indeed has no more contact with his physical form. Sometimes, not even he knows.

 

✲✲✲✲✲

 

Avira had been asleep for a long, long time. A year (or was it more?) since the last guests left. Ah, but now the house woke him; a melody of cracks and thumps calling, the sweet scent of life finding way through the open door. The air had grown dusty, but now, slowly, it seemed to be clearing. Avira stretched the stiff limbs, to drive away the numbness. He took his time, listening to the noises coming from downstairs. There was creaking of wood and clanking of empty dishes. And Avira just listened, sounds repeating and changing.

 

He let himself fall through the floorboards with the low hum of static, hanging from the kitchen ceiling, eyes opening slowly to the faint artificial light. It flickered in from the other room. Right beneath him was a kitchen counter; and on it a piece of paper. Avira cocked his head to one side, silently observing lines drawn by a pen. He could not read or write; if he ever knew any letters, he must have forgotten. The house sometimes spoke to him and led his hand to form similar shapes to those he was now seeing on paper. Then he understood, but these lines meant nothing to him.

 

He jumped lightly on the floor; his bare feet barely making a sound. Well, no need to have his new friend leave the house on the first night. Passing easily through the wall, Avira came in to observe this guest. He brought with him a chill, a cheerful, unspoken “hello”. A whisper, perhaps, inside a mind. The house greeted him.

[TeaPlease]

The greeting traveled slowly to Breno's preoccupied mind and only struck at the very next moment of pause.

 

He was neither aware of the going-ons nor did he care. Breno just stared ahead with a relaxed gaze upon his laptop, smile quirked upon his lips. During mid-sip was when it came, when it finally did strike. His body stiffened on its own accord as he became unfocused. Tilting his head to the side, the male listened for a moment before returning his attention to his surroundings. He could sense nothing to be afraid of particularly. In fact,t he greeting further calmed any anxiety that had been previously pounding in his chest. It was soothing.

 

Shadows engulfed most other things, creeping along walls and the floor where the rays of the laptop screen stopped and could reach no more. Looking around once more Breno came to the conclusion that he'd have to get many a new things done to the old, shabby place. Sighing, the young man stood, hair messy and curtaining his face-- was it a young man? The facial features shifted and changed with each angling of the head. It was all based upon the perspective. The slouch certainly didn't help, back bent in bad posture.

 

Not desiring to make two trips downstairs, Breno began to wrap up the affair. The movie was done, credits rolling in front of a light-green screen and his tea was still steaming hot for the relaxation he would want as he drifted off. The cord wrapped, laptop tucked underneath his arm, blanket curled about his neck and body and tea-cup squished in between limbs and the sheet, he made his way upstairs. Past the shadows that bent his way, leaving the creaking boards behind and retiring in a shabby looking room with peeling wallpaper, a moth-eaten rug and no working lights.

 

But he slept well that night, unaware- or uncaring- of any lingering things to be frighten of. There was no boogey-man. Only history, truth, and good dreams.

[iMarionette]

The guest was a rather curious thing. Yet no matter how long Avira observed his features, he could not quite understand what was so off about him. And there were no other minds to occupy, it seemed; no children or grumpy teens, not even superstitious old women. Just this one body.

 

Avira hovered above the young man, stole glances while hiding in the corners, even shuffled about as he moved upstairs, half-tempted to trip him. He didn’t, but he did add an extra creak to the floorboards and poked around them to see if any would come loose sometime soon. They all looked fine, in turn making Avira very annoyed. He glided up to the attic, taking his time because he wanted to dance with the house, then dug around through old forgotten things in search for something to use on the stairs. He wasn’t making a lot of noise, but he wasn’t careful not to make any, either. Among the old junk, he found an ugly yellow trophy (of some sport, perhaps, though Avira wouldn’t know). It was satisfyingly heavy, probably enough so to break- ah, but Avira got distracted, dropping the trophy for now to follow the moonlight as it shyly spun the attic dust. He jumped through the closed window; found himself outside when he landed, his feet on the soft, damp grass. And he smiled, beginning a soft walk around the house. Still in good shape. He circled it once, twice, three times. Yes, not perfect, but rather romantic in its faults.

 

Avira felt as if he had forgotten something. Well, he had forgotten many things, but this seemed to be a rather recent thought. He went back inside the house using the front door; not slipping through, but making it creak as it opened, loving the sound it made. He did not close it properly. Standing with his hands on his bony hips, he inhaled the dusty air; and found it rather different than earlier. Ah, yes. There was someone here earlier. The air was not as dusty. The house had a new guest.

 

Avira nodded to himself once, twice, three times. Then, raising his hands he clapped. There should not have been many working lights in the house, or electricity for that matter, but suddenly the whole house bathed in magnificent artificial light. Just for a moment, before everything flickered and died away. Avira blinked, his lips curling into a slight pout. Not yet, perhaps. Not yet. Again he went upstairs, searching for the room that the young man had chosen to sleep in. Had he slept through all that? If yes, there was still time to pull at the wallpaper and peel it off, and perhaps wrap it around furniture. That was always fun, Avira remembered that one time: he had wrapped a lovely roll of such paper around a chair; it had tiny flowers on it and everything. The lady who had chosen it, though, did not seem to like it that time. Probably because she had been sitting on the chair while Avira was wrapping it up. Such a waste. Avira stood, tapping his chin in thought. He had liked playing with that lady.

[TeaPlease]

The sounds made him wake up constantly. The creaks, bangs, little heres and theres. He was nowhere near a heavy sleeper, and light wasn't the proper description either. But Breno did awaken when his mind sensed something out of ease or snapped at the occasional noise. After the first four times, the male kept his eyes open and ears out for the peculiar disturbances in the night. Fear didn't gnaw at him, but rather just an annoyance blunted by tiredness. Slowly, he shifted in bed to roll onto his side and look at his closed room door.

 

Going out didn't seem like a good option. Nor did he want to, anyhow, as his body was tired and it was warm underneath his thick sheets. More sounds. Breno frowned, before he just closed his eyes again and willed his mind to get off the subject of crazy things. Feeding into superstition would do no good. Nor would the rumors get into his head. Breno dismissed them with a sigh of sleep and fell back into a slumber.

 

Constantly waking up had taken a toll on his rest, but he made it up for sleeping a little later than usual. The new tenant did not stir from his sleep after his fifth eye-open and they only peeped open again as the rising rays of the sun peeked through thin blinds. Moving his fingers through his hair, the male rubbed the crust from around his eyes and wiped the wet matter and dried drool from his mouth area. A nest had began to be formed, which his fingers combed through idly. Breno finally opened his eyes and blinked after rubbing them to get the up and moving. Ah. A nice day- but a productive one. He had a lot of work to do.

 

After ten minutes, the room door opened into the new morning and Breno came out with a t-shirt and sweatpants to get himself morning tea and some breakfast.

[iMarionette]

Without realizing it, Avira had wandered off in thought. As morning neared, he had begun to grow tired, still standing in front of the bedroom door. By the time the sun came up, he could no longer remember what he wanted to do.

 

And then the door opened on their own, from the other side. Avira shuffled backwards promptly, so as not to be caught in too bright a light. He would have glided up to the attic again, except something had him stuck in place. His eyes took in the young man a moment before the other passed right through him, presumably on his way down. Avira frowned. How unpleasant. That trick was not fun at all, like this. But perhaps it was for the best; caught unawares, if Avira had been of more solid form, well. It was much too early for the nasty tricks.

 

He had already glided back up to the attic, where he would stay for the rest of the day. So Avira thought. Perhaps he would rest. Night was much more comfortable to play in, compared to the day; he had been sleeping for a long time after all. His body was not yet used to it, whatever the form.

[TeaPlease]

How odd. He felt a bit weird, as if he'd entered a fog for a moment, but it had vanished quickly. Nevermind such things. He had things to do! Breno quickly prepared breakfast, ate- and for then on it was a whirlwind of activity. Things were moved, the house trembling with new noise. Tunes from another time began to creep through the floorboards and peeling wallpaper and paint. It had a foreign tune (more than just plain new-sound.)

 

There were a lot of horns and laughter. Guitar-strings being strummed quick-like. Full of energy and pure life. The tenant seemed to be the same way, stripping away the old layers of the house to freshen it up. He dusted and swept, beating out carpets and rugs as well as scrubbing away grime in cupboards and the stove. It was a full renovation. At least a renovation he could afford to do.

 

How odd it was, to have so much going on after this long.

 

[[ My apologies; busy and tired. The next one will be better. ]]