When hinges creak in doorless chambers...

[hatchethanging]

 
 

 

 
 







Welcome, foolish mortals,
to the Haunted Mansion.



Watch your step on the way in, please.

 

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[cessation_rites]

“She prefers to make a fashionable entrance?” Rute murmurs.

However, any further sardonicism is quickly shut out by the sight of the green glow. Following the Host’s explanation, Rute glances around at the other staff members, making sure she’s positioned in the same rough circle as everyone else.

And then Rute sees Madame Leota come in- and Madame Leota looks at her. It’s her first time actually seeing a corporeal spirit, and Rute isn’t sure if she finds the whole disembodied head thing disturbing or merely strange, but she’s leaning towards “definitely disturbing.” (How does that even happen?)

Rute does her best to look back, meeting Madame Leota’s gaze in a level way. It might be more impressive if her hands weren’t clinging nervously to the sides of her chair. But she has nothing, Rute reminds herself, to be ashamed or guilty about here.

Still, she breathes a bit easier once Madame Leota’s attention is off of her. Of course, she still isn’t sure what this séance thing requires of her, so she’ll be on alert for any cues she needs to follow.

[hatchethanging]

The majority of the cast members shut their eyes, though not all, with the few still keeping their eyes fixed on Leota's glowing head.

"Focus, now, mortals, there is much to hear; past edges of awareness, it will all become clear." The air becomes heavier against everyone's skin. "Haunts of the Mansion, it's time to respond; send us a message from somewhere beyond." At the card table, three knocks are heard.

Her call is really a truncated version of the spiel the guests hear, and delivered with much less mysticism. Spooking is always a source of enjoyment, but this is simply work. It may even sound amusing. The Host certainly thinks so, though he's heard it enough he can keep it hidden well as she continues, asking for mortals to pay attention and ghosts to reach out.

And it works.

The ghoul at the table is the one that catches most attention, in the center of it all, wearing a tophat. He grins at his mortal opponent in the game, who mock-scowls back. When he notices Rute's eyes on him, the grin grows, and he tips his hat her way.

A few wisps--closer to bedsheet-type ghosts than skeletons or living people--have decided to make the sinks their home, quietly chattering to each other in their respective tubs.

The Host, of course, is no more visible than before. "A rather simple task," he says to Rute, halfway to inquiring. He really does hope she's not panicking.