Once the darkness lightens, the Host's footprints vanish. He doesn't allow Noah to believe he's alone with the eyes long, speaking up behind his back from the right way up (though still far enough for to avoid any ungainly flailing).
"Why, those are fellow residents! We find every last inch of this place delightfully unlivable, from creeping in the walls to the chills in the air."
There's a suit of armor standing in the corner not far ahead, standing guard at an intersection of halls with a dane axe held in its hand. The empty head turns to peer at Noah with mild surprise. He didn't know there was another mortal wandering about.
"You are not to go that way," the Host intones, and the armor hastily swings the weapon to bar access to one of the halls, the one with red walls. That hall continues on and on and on, far longer than even the Mansion should be wide, interrupted only by a floating candelabra a few doors down. "Instead, shhh. Even the ghosts who gracefully bowed out of the party are dying to meet you. Listen."
And there is plenty to hear. Indecipherable muttering, scratching and knocking--the doors down the permitted hallway are moving, some with the force of knocks, some with a force that for all the world seems like breathing, the wood bending in and out. On the other side, there is a coffin adorned with hundreds of flowers and wreathes, filling the air with the scent of a decay more tasteful than meat. The resident in the coffen rolls and presses up against the top, loosening where it had been nailed shut. It will take much greater effort to outright pries it open, though there will be plenty of time to try. "Hey!" the body inside indignantly squawks. "Lemme outta here!" The voice barely drowns out the croaking of a raven perched atop it, watching with eerie red eyes.
Pointedly ignoring this, the Host's gaze flicks between each door, and he muses about the possibility of something else to spice up the decor. Perhaps pictures. Simpler portraits, not haunted, but of haunts, perhaps. There must be painters within their ranks somewhere. Or...perhaps cameras? He has yet to encounter any of those, though he's distantly aware of their existence. It could be that ghosts can be photographed...
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"Why, those are fellow residents! We find every last inch of this place delightfully unlivable, from creeping in the walls to the chills in the air."
There's a suit of armor standing in the corner not far ahead, standing guard at an intersection of halls with a dane axe held in its hand. The empty head turns to peer at Noah with mild surprise. He didn't know there was another mortal wandering about.
"You are not to go that way," the Host intones, and the armor hastily swings the weapon to bar access to one of the halls, the one with red walls. That hall continues on and on and on, far longer than even the Mansion should be wide, interrupted only by a floating candelabra a few doors down. "Instead, shhh. Even the ghosts who gracefully bowed out of the party are dying to meet you. Listen."
And there is plenty to hear. Indecipherable muttering, scratching and knocking--the doors down the permitted hallway are moving, some with the force of knocks, some with a force that for all the world seems like breathing, the wood bending in and out. On the other side, there is a coffin adorned with hundreds of flowers and wreathes, filling the air with the scent of a decay more tasteful than meat. The resident in the coffen rolls and presses up against the top, loosening where it had been nailed shut. It will take much greater effort to outright pries it open, though there will be plenty of time to try. "Hey!" the body inside indignantly squawks. "Lemme outta here!" The voice barely drowns out the croaking of a raven perched atop it, watching with eerie red eyes.
Pointedly ignoring this, the Host's gaze flicks between each door, and he muses about the possibility of something else to spice up the decor. Perhaps pictures. Simpler portraits, not haunted, but of haunts, perhaps. There must be painters within their ranks somewhere. Or...perhaps cameras? He has yet to encounter any of those, though he's distantly aware of their existence. It could be that ghosts can be photographed...