The Phantom's Opera
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Name: Natalia | Gender: Female | Posts: 2,745 | Roses: 50
Old 02-25-2018 at 03:40 AM
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 Post [91]

Cara Blaze Andovea

It was somewhat different being back in the underground shadows again, not that she could tell what was shadow anymore. She couldn't help but wonder at the new maze and doorways this might open up, looking but without eyes to get in the was a way to look deeper. such as now as she heard the unease that seemed to issue from this mans lips.

"I'm," he tripped before going on somewhat reminding her of someone else she knew and hadn't seen in awhile and even herself in same ways...all the way back when. "I'm newly joined here. The skulls -- that's what I, I make. You might have seen them."

Before she could open her mouth to reveal what no doubt was hard to see in what little light WAS around them he seemed finally to clue in.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I haven't seen them though, it's been awhile since I've been here. Though my father always used to say that when it comes to skulls and...darker things. The phantom's realm was always a good place to come to, inspire and all."

It was then she waited for a reply the silence taking her mind back to one of the first times she had ventured further into the darkness. 'The Gates of Hell' as some people had called it, other kids always teasing.

"I . . . I'm just exploring down here, looking for anything of interest. Never know -- the Phantom might leap out!"

It was then she heard something hit the ground, rats no doubt or stones being upset.

"I can tell you that things do seem to lerk within shadows down here." Like my husband once did "Though if you're looking for something interesting I'd suggest going down the way a bit and running your hands along the walls. Secret little places you know? Looking underneath the surface."

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Name: Kitty | Gender: female | Posts: 10 | Roses: 10
Old 03-06-2018 at 07:44 PM
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 Post [92]

Jacob Inkstone

"Yes . . . thank you." Everything Jacob said sounded so stilted -- he hated how awkward he was.

Never, not even alone with himself and the moon, did he feel comfortable in his body, not since the accident. What suited him more was imagining peeling his own flesh, like breaking off bark, and spilling out like a shadow to sink into the stone cracks, becoming one with the cavern. It must be relaxing, being a building, not thinking but simply existing. History woven and ageless, only worried by the wind and rain.

But, then again, they said ghosts clung to the backs of old buildings, staining them with the bitterness of bad memories. Perhaps he'd have other people's woes rattling in his head.

He was drifting off again. Losing his focus. Jacob looked to the woman, though a part of him was still on edge and tempted to look over his shoulder, wondering about the noise.

She'd offered him advice. That wasn't what he had expected.

"Do you come here often?" Was there someone else like him?

Curious, he reached out and felt the wall, as he waited for her to answer. Grime and water smeared across his fingertips. There were dips and groves, eroded by nature and caused by human hands. Almost, they were like a trail, and he began to walk, following them deeper into the passageway.

There were red eyes in the corner, but they darted back into a crevice.

"I once found a suit of armour locked behind a hidden wall in a country manor. Apparently, it was locked away because the owners, years and years ago, believed it was cursed with a ghost's spirit. It used to get up and pace around the corridors." Rushing now, he never spoke so much before, it was a babble.

He remembered the manor: they'd come running when they'd heard the scream -- as high as a cat's yowl -- because the gauntlet of the armour had hit him in the face, and he knew for certain it wasn't because he'd disturbed something.

Water splashed. He caught, somewhere distant and hidden, the waft of something rotten. Then his hand dipped, and a stone sunk into the wall. A growling grumble rolled throughout, and a harsh, familiar snick as a wall pulled away. Another passage, leading off to the right, a torn piece of red silk hung there, fluttering, almost beckoning.

"If these were once the Phantom's tunnels," Jacob wondered, "they should have been destroyed, or at least blocked off, yet, who would want to restore them?" And what were they hiding?
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