When hinges creak in doorless chambers...

[hatchethanging]

 
 

 

 
 







Welcome, foolish mortals,
to the Haunted Mansion.



Watch your step on the way in, please.

 

Comments

[hatchethanging]

"I see. There's nothing surprising about that, and nothing wrong." It's the ones that do have much experience that come with more worrisome traits. Oftentimes experience is attempting to summon spirits for attempted bidding or in desperate mourning, or causing a general ruckus to see what haunts might scream back; none of which are particularly welcome in the Mansion.

"No, no, there's nothing to worry about for the most part. Certainly not in this room or the hallway outside, if that is your concern. While there are a few rooms that mortals shouldn't pass through without an ectoplasmic escort, they're all housed deeply within our halls, where the living staff almost never have reason to wander there in the first place outside of emergencies. You'll be informed most carefully of what can be dangerous if you pass muster. The Haunted Mansion is for spooky celebration and entertainment, not murders or curses." He sets his hands on either side of the paper, leaving the faintest impressions on the dark wood. "And if your fear overwhelms you during this interview, you are always fully free to leave. We're not desperate enough for mortal maids to press-gang you here, hmm?"

The circumstances are certainly frustrating, however. Some of the best workers are the sort with bravery and dreams--mortals that have hopes and aspirations elsewhere, and so have less reason to stay for long. The Host will take what he can get with mortals that aren't so foolish, even if they can't stay for as much time as he'd like.

"As the advertisement should have said, the general duties of our maids and butlers are to keep areas of the Mansion clean, and to keep guests on the right track. This is a space primarily for ghosts, so only a few areas will truly require attention of a caretaking kind; we prefer rather unlivable conditions, you see. We're having most unique tours! All for the living to enjoy a few jumps and fun, as well as giving the restless dead chances to socialize and--briefly--enjoy the easily-startled company of the mortals that choose to come in."

[cessation_rites]

It takes a moment before Rute notices the handprints on the table. She doesn’t comment on it but she does twitch. Oddly, despite how unnerving it is talking to an invisible, dead man, she’s not having any trouble paying attention to what he’s actually saying. Or maybe she’s listening out of sheer careful wariness. She definitely notes that some parts of the mansion are dangerous.

“Okay, I can think of a couple of questions right off,” Rute says. She starts counting off on her fingers, “So, first, what specific areas would I be working with?” In other words, where should she stick doggedly to, away from any of those vague dangerous parts.

“How busy are the tours on average? How long has this place been open for tours? What would you consider the most challenging part of the job?” (That last question she admittedly get off of a “what questions to ask at a job interview” google search, but it’s a sincere one.)

“And lastly, you mentioned emergencies? What would be considered an emergency in this...” Rute gestures at the area, attempting to indicate the Haunted Mansion as a whole, “...context?” This is at least partly her attempting to figure out if emergencies are common, not just if the Host means in the humdrum natural disaster sense or the supernatural disaster sense.

[hatchethanging]

"Mainly, the stone path from the gate to the front doors, the foyer, and the hall out of the exit crypt--anywhere that has a chance of sun. It's to be kept clean of litter, handprints, forgotten items." Keeping track of their own things and keeping their hands to themselves, are not skills that many of the youngest seem to have mastered as much as the older. (Though teenagers are sometimes even more rambunctious.) And everyone makes mistakes. The age range goes far beyond what the Host had prepared for, so long it's been since he himself lived--so many children. The Haunted Mansion has few that died young as residents, and the majority of those passed within the walls themselves.

"The touring area through the Mansion itself is kept dark, and all that space will be dealt with by myself and a few fellow haunts instead. The one area of ghostly importance surviving staff interacts with often would be the stretching room, and the job is merely to keep your fellow living beings from touching the walls as they move. New blood are not stationed there, and some never work there at all." The startle of his own hanging corpse never gets old to the Host, and single touring mortals find it darkly humorous or no worse than anything else. Mortal cast members, however, can find themselves breaking down at once, or after repeated performances. It's important to keep an eye on effects.

The Host taps a finger on the table. "The exact number varies. We open our doors mid-morning, and our last tour is conducted around midnight, with the guests increasing throughout the day." He gives her a few examples. "We've been open for nearly a year now, though there was an attempt earlier in the decade. The tours were...troublesome. Incidents were avoided, but we found it difficult to keep mortals on track when they were determined to wander off. We shut it down and installed real tracks, and now the Mansion has little chairs to ride on and to keep mortals together."

He'll be just a little louder, slightly leaning his form over the table. "Now, a question for yourself. You speak multiple languages? Which, and how fluent are you? It's slow going, but as infamous premise is spread around, we're already finding visitors from near and far. Mortal and ghostly. In fact, we're still gathering residents. Any translation experience is greatly desirable."

The Host pauses as he considers. Challenges. "...The 'guiding' component--of the maids' jobs and my own--entails certain ways of acting. Affecting an unsettling aura and phrasing hauntingly is a large part of our presentation. I've had over a century of practice, long before the thought of tours were conceived; others have difficulty keeping the haunting mystique when guests react unexpectedly, or simply out of habit."

He's somewhat pleased. Many mortals don't ask anything at all until much later on, and this bodes better than most. And she's rather safety-minded as well.

Unfortunately, Rute will have to dig a little harder for ideas of supernatural threats. "It's unlikely that a fire will ever light here despite all the dust, though we've been sure there are many ways out for mortal safety. If an earthquake strikes, many parts of the Mansion aren't quite in your side of the veil." He chuckles lowly. "The inside past the Gallery will stay standing no matter how terribly the outside is destroyed, and we can 'evacuate' staff and mortals until outside rescue teams can dig through the rubble. Not to worry, the Mansion has yet to take much damage from even the worst of such, beyond a mudslide or two around the backyard graveyard."

[cessation_rites]

Rute nods along to the Host’s explanation. Sun sounds good. And the duties the Host lists are very much already in Rute’s purview- possibly minus the ominous sounding stretching room, but at least that’s something she wouldn’t need to worry about for a while. (If she winds up working here, of course, which is surely doubtful for a number of reasons.)

The size of the crowds sounds a bit more intimidating. From the Host’s description, it seems like the Mansion is well on its way to becoming an absolutely booming tourist attraction, and Rute’s used to smaller scale operations. It doesn’t mean she definitely can’t handle it, but it’ll be a gamble, especially since Rute doesn’t consider herself a people person. (And that bit about “troublesome” past tours is getting written down in her mental notebook of “Suspicious Things the Ghost Host Has Said,” thank you.)

Rute stiffens a bit as the Host becomes louder- is he nearer or is that just her imagination?- but she answers promptly enough. “Just Portuguese and English. My parents were born in Brazil and we used to speak Portuguese at home most of the time, and I used it a lot when I was working at the Carnegie Street Bar and Grill, since most of our customers preferred it. I also took Spanish all four years in high school but I’ve never really used it outside of class so I can’t really say it’s stuck.” She punctuates with a shrug. It’s a pity on a sheerly pragmatic note, Rute knows, but she’d rather not oversell herself and wind up complicating things.

And on that note: “I’m not much of an actress,” Rute admits. “I can do ‘customer service mode,’ but that’s about it.” And even that level of skill took some definite work on her part. Just trying to imagine herself putting on a “haunting mystique” has her brow furrowing in doubt.

“My side of the- what?” And here, Rute’s lack of supernatural experience shows itself in full force. “How exactly does that work?”

[hatchethanging]

"I must say, even that is far more than many can boast about." Absolutely the truth.

"As challenging as it can be, it becomes easier the more you allow yourself to enjoy it," he advises. "That part is more for those who work in the front besides. The exit crypt simply involves wishing guests farewell, and that we're always looking for new residents--my fellow haunts are there to enforce that at the same time. And it takes practice, naturally, as for any skill."

The Host settles back and higher, a little quieter again. "There are visual components to it--you aren't particularly intimidating, I'm unafraid." A terrible joke on multiple levels, enjoy. "Disheveled hair, some cosmetics to give the illusion of sunken eyes and an unhealthy pallor, a rather dark uniform--some find it easier to get into character once that's all made up."

Perhaps a feverish pallor would work better on Rute's skin instead of the usual pale-skinned grey. If this workds out.

Ah, one of these questions. "You see, Miss Fernandes, the living and the dead do not occupy the world in the same way. The term 'passing on' is an apt one; we find ourselves in a different layer of reality than your own, where oftentimes mortalkind cannot perceive us at all. Humans, mostly. A few animals seem to have a better time of it; we've found that for cats in particular." Hm-hm-hmm.

"I cannot explain the details precisely, as the rules of haunting are not perfectly consistent. As near as I can summarize, we ghosts are pieces of the past, like undead paintings or photographs (though we have plenty of those already). We cannot change much, and we exist even though another 'self' exists--as our bodies, or what may be left of them. The Mansion itself exists on a similar principle; there is the Mansion you can see, and the Mansion that exists as a piece of past that persists regardless! Most haunted locations in the world are incidentally this way. Houses, graveyards, sources of impressing experiences in the most literal sense; kept in a single form long enough that ghosts find it familiar enough to keep themselves there, even once the location may have mortal interference. Our Haunted Mansion is unique! Here, we keep it this way, instead of neglectful or mournful mortals." The abrupt chill that pulses through the room is more of a cool breeze, underscoring his words with gentle notes from the bells along the walls. (He carefully pins the paper down with a finger before it can skitter more than a few inches across the table.)

"With how many spirits haunt this place, we can briefly take mortals into this 'unliving photograph' if they are so willing to call us in return. We meet in a place...halfway, and that is a large part of the tour itself. If such an emergency occurs, then we can keep mortals inside for far longer than would be survivable if truly buried under wreckage."

[cessation_rites]

That’s very kind of you to say, spooky invisible dead man.

“Really,” she says, more to fill in the space than anything else. The Host’s dumb joke aside, Rute fiddles with a bit of her hair, realizes that she’s doing it, and forces her hand down. Ah, nothing like mentioning her appearance to make her extremely self-conscious. Even if it’s in the context of “You don’t look much like a zombie.”

The Host goes on to explain the ghostly situation, while Rute nods along. It’s mostly out of her depth, although she does comment on one point: “Huh. That makes sense,” she says. “Animals can have very different ways of perceiving things from humans. Like how a dog can perceive scents a human would never be able to pick up on.”

She’s tempted to go on a further tangent about it but the Host’s explanation isn’t finished, so she waits for him to finish the rest. The way he puts it makes it sound as if ghosts are like copies of a once-real thing. Poly would love this. Rute isn’t so sure about it. Having a better sense of how haunted things work also gives her a sense of just how disconnected from her day to day life that the unlife is.

And then there’s the abrupt breeze and the ringing of bells, and despite the gentleness of the sound Rute yelps, a shudder going through her. When the breeze fades she shoots a sharp glance at the bells, but they remain unhelpful. “Okay,” she says, her voice just a bit less steady than earlier, “Thanks for the explanation, but what-" She gestures at the bells, "What was that about?”

And there’s another question that’s on her mind now. “Just how many of you are there, in this place?”

[hatchethanging]

"Hmm, correct. Though I've found dogs in particular tend to to be nearly as oblivious as mortal humans--with exceptions for cadaverous canines." A few of those are haunts in and of themselves, but cats and ravens, spiders and owls; all these are far more in tune to the supernatural alive or dead, and he naturally pays greater attention to what falls under his purview. There are plenty of tangents he himself could go on for that subject, which he refrains from.

Silence falls after her question, in which the Ghost Host invisibly presses his hand against his mouth to keep laughter from escaping. This one is a delight in regards to reactions.

"I apologize, Miss Fernandes," he says once he regains control. "We ghosts have rather unusual effects on our surroundings--most haunted spaces out in the world are due to that, and not the semi-physical forms themselves. Our very own tours begin with this quote: 'When hinges creak in doorless chambers--when candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still.' Just now, my pride at the Haunted Mansion's accomplishments got the better of me and manifested in a rush of wind. Chills, the sensation of being watched, and distant unknowable speech are other common signs of spirits afoot."

Really, though she claimed no experience to genuine haunting, he had held assumptions she was familiar with the common ghostly activities that spread through works of fiction. A foolish oversight on his part.

"Currently, we've got 803--804 happy haunts who retired here to the Haunted Mansion, though not all reveal themselves during the tours. I am the only one in this room, if that's a weight on your mind," he assures. "Most are more visible than I. They keep to the dark parts of the Mansion, though interaction between mortals and spirits--and the spirits' effects--still occur, particularly before and after shifts."

[cessation_rites]

Rute flushes in the (she assumes) awkward silence that follows her question, wondering if she offended the Host somehow. But she can’t bring herself to recant her words- she had been unpleasantly surprised by it.

But in the end the Host explains and he doesn’t sound particularly upset so Rute lets out a quiet huff of relief. “So it’s usually the sort of thing that’s easy to dismiss as something else,” she says. Just the wind, or a busted air conditioner, etc. etc. Thinking about that, Rute starts to connect some mental dots, although she’s briefly distracted by the next detail.

Eight-hundred and four? Rute’s eyebrows raise. Good lord, what do you even say to that? She settles on “...Must be one heck of a job keeping track of everyone.” (Even if “everyone” is dead, and therefore lacking physical needs.)

“Earlier, back in the waiting room, I noticed it suddenly got colder around the time Mr. Crump came in. Do you know if that was, y’know,” she briefly drums her fingers on the table, “Paranormal activity?” And she is absolutely going to feel ridiculous if he says “Good heavens no, that was just the draft!” but since the thought’s in her head she feels the need to ask.

[hatchethanging]

"Exactly! Many haunts are never registered as such...though some prefer it that way. On the other hand, many attempted ghost hunters assign supernatural to the natural. Some mortals have greater abilities to discern haunting than others--our very own Madame Leota was an excellent medium in life, excelling far more in death--but such skills are rare outside of the young."

The Host makes a dismissive noise. "I have my ways within the Mansion--and we'd still like a few more. Perhaps not quite to maximum capacity, which I estimate around a thousand, but we're bound to get near that amount."

So close, so far. It's stunning so many are already around, and gratifying. So many haunts that could have stuck to where they lingered for decades or centuries or longer, instead crossing the realm to take a place in an endeavor that has never been attempted.

"Ah, so you noticed. Yes, that was me, ducking in for a moment to see the four of you. I always take a quick look over prospective hires. It gives me a better idea of character." When he had, the Host noticed she hadn't been at all concerned about the spider. This, with her previous comment about dogs, brings to mind another subject--

"And, Miss Fernandes, do you have any aversion to cats or ravens?" Before she can properly reply, he hastily tacks on "Or allergies to such? ...Or to dust?" Mortals are so fragile, he often forgets to bring that up alongside ghostly matters.

[cessation_rites]

Well that seems kind of creepy! (What else is new.) Rute can’t help but purse her lips at the confirmation she was just being observed by an invisible presence. Although- four of them, he says? Is he talking about Mr. Crump or…

Regardless, the subject moves on and Rute can’t help but perk up.

“Hm? Oh, not at all. Although if there’s a lot of dust in the air I’ll probably sneeze a bit. Pretty sure that’s normal though.” She’s not going to have an asthma attack, at least. And putting that aside, “But yes, as far as animals are concerned I don’t have any allergies and I don’t have any phobias in that regard. Do you get a lot of cats and ravens around here?” It might seem odd but she hopes that they do- even if she’s not working with them directly, animals are good company! Definitely better company than most humans.

[hatchethanging]

"Excellent. Dust is stirred up at times from deeper within, and we wouldn't want anyone to become genuinely ill." Particularly those who stay for a while.

That response is encouraging. "Most certainly! Several inhuman creatures have their places here, and those are the ones most likely to intersect with a maid or butler's duty. The raven is what one might call our mascot, and there's a bird always fluttering through halls. Helpful for our desired ambiance, and to keep an extra eye on the tours." The Host doesn't much mind this; though occasionally rude, both the Mansion and Constance are fond of him. "And cats regularly sneak through the veil, just to join the festivities in the graveyard out back! Those little beasts often come around to receive affection from our working mortals. All the ghosts in the world can't keep a cat contained where it doesn't want to be," he chuckles. Not that anyone in the Haunted Mansion's bothered trying to do so in the first place.

[cessation_rites]

So a mascot-slash-helper-animal (Though Rute assumes the raven mascot isn’t as useful in the latter category because your average raven, while extremely clever, is also a bird with its own bird priorities.) and a tendency to attract strays. “That should be fine,” Rute says, and while the Host’s quip doesn’t get an answering chuckle by any means, it does gets a small smile out of her.

Still, it’s not enough to cancel out the fact she is severely out of her depth right now. There are a few more questions on either end about things like the uniform, the work schedule, other details about the job, and prior work experience on Rute’s part, all of which she’s able to get through well enough (though she’s deliberately vague on more personal points) but all the stuff about ghosts and veils and the ethereal whatnots is... overwhelming. And she can’t stop tensing up whenever anything especially startling or ghostly happens, although she at least doesn’t yelp after that first time.

Somehow or other they finish going over everything- hopefully, again, certain details are still a LOT to take in- and with the other interviewees waiting, Rute makes to stand up.

She glances around- this would normally be the part where she’d shake her interviewers hand but since he doesn’t have one she’s just. There in the same room he’s sort of there in.

“Well,” she says, “Thank you for your time. And, um, the explanations.” She has a vague feeling she should talk to her family's priest after this.

[hatchethanging]

"It was a pleasure," he returns. "And might I suggest you may wish to take a tour yourself in the near future, Miss Fernandes." It would give her a better idea of the job if these next few interviews go badly. There can never be too many people visiting and being able to spread the word, after all.

He settles to the floor and deliberately allows his steps to be audible. Absolutely no need to startle her more than he already has!

The door opens for her. "Until we meet again," he says.



At the end of the week, Rute's phone rings.

Rings. It doesn't matter what her ringtone is set to, the sound is precisely the noise of antique rotary phones. It's from the Mansion, of course. If she's still interested, the position is open for her.

[cessation_rites]

Rute did wind up talking to the priest later on, though his advice mostly boiled down to “Maybe if you started showing up here every week you wouldn’t have to worry about things like this?” which she suspected had more to do with his concerns about church attendance among The Youths than her actual situation.

She also told her family about the Haunted Mansion, basically as soon as she got home and Babs asked her what her job interview was for. None of them were pleased to hear about it except Tony, who only turned four like a month ago and therefore his opinion didn’t count.

“Rute,” Nelson had said, “You can’t work at a place like that.”

Oddly, even though Rute had been thinking more or less the same thing the entire time, actually hearing her brother-in-law say it out loud was incredibly irritating.

So. She’d be lying if she said spite isn’t a motivator here. But it’s far from the only one! A lot of it is also that the Mansion is the first decent place to get back to her with something other than a variation on “You just don’t seem like the best fit.” And it is decent, if you look at it on paper and ignore the nature of what the Mansion actually is, which is certainly tempting whenever she’s looking at the bills.

And maybe there’s a bit of curiosity. Just maybe.

And she was told there’d be cats.

So instead of getting her phone exorcised, Rute’s response is simply:

“When should I come in?”

[hatchethanging]

She can come in at the start of the next week. And she's very graciously thanked.


When the time comes:

"Welcome, welcome. Well, come in!" the Ghost Host calls her in. He's somewhere near the ceiling, as he prefers to be. "I'll be around for questions later. First, a seasoned mortal member of our staff will teach you a thing or two."

She's bustled by a woman in a somewhat grim maid outfit (her nametag says "Leslie"), deeper down the hall she previously visited as an interviewee. She wasn't the only one hired, but there aren't any others around for training.

Compared to the rest of the Mansion, the mortal staff training room is like stepping back into the outside world. The maid looks completely unfit, with only the worn wood of the floor and old hanging light betraying what it is. The wallpaper design's simple vertical stripes. Tables are like something pulled from an office, magazines (mainly historical) haphazardly tossed atop them. Blunt adverts for the Mansion are on the walls alongside various posters for horror movies and games.

The maid pulls a few boxes out of another room to the side, labelled 'outfits'. "Pick a uniform--changing room's right over there--and you'll be shown around the place, told what to do, how to do it, meeting a few friendly ghouls, all that. Any 'foolish mortals' you meet, you don't need to talk yet. Just don't smile at them. Keep in the mood of a funeral, not pretend cheer from anywhere else you've worked." That's a common enough problem.

[cessation_rites]

Over the weekend Rute’s family is even less pleased to hear she’ll be going into the Mansion again but they don’t bother protesting beyond sighs and frowns.

Poly also calls in between her summer courses and immediately grills Rute on every detail, even the unproductive ones. (“No I didn’t try using an EMF reader. I don’t even know what that- Well why would I be carrying that around?”) This is followed up by a promise to “get to the bottom of this” (“Poly, you really don’t have to do that,”) and that she’d have the results of her research in for Rute in a few weeks.

It’s actually somewhat of a relief when the fateful day arrives, not that it shows on the tremulous expression Rute makes when she hears the Host’s voice again. Though she’s polite enough to nod and say “Hello, again,” in the general vicinity of where she hears him.

(She can almost brush it off as being like listening to someone on a phone or intercom- except that he’s not, he’s just there and invisible because he’s a ghost, and that tiny detail sticks in her mind like a burr.)

Her expression lightens a bit at seeing another human being- “Hi,” she says, “I’m Rute,”- although she still makes her way after Leslie with a definite degree of wariness, half-expecting every door they pass to randomly burst open.

The mortal staff room isn’t quite as comforting as one might expect; it’s a human space, or at least a modern one, but the horror themed decor isn’t exactly to Rute’s taste. Still, it’s not as if it matters. A job’s a job, she’s here to work, so she tries to push her jitters aside and focus more on what Leslie’s saying.

It takes a minute for Rute to pick out a uniform, looking carefully to make sure she grabs one that will actually fit. The official outfits are considerably darker than her usual style but she appreciates that the main color is green. “Right,” she says, once she finally picks out one that seems the right length, “Be out in a bit.”

She slips into the changing room, shuts the door, but before getting to business she pauses. The air in the room feels normal but...

“If there are any ghosts in here,” Rute mutters, attempting to strike a balance between ‘audible to any ghosts but not to Leslie,’ “Get out. I know an exorcist and I will not hesitate to call on him.” Honesty compels her to add, “...Well, I don’t know if he’s actually licensed to perform them but he’s a priest and I’m sure he has connections.”

Having thus attempted to assure herself, Rute changes into the uniform as hurriedly as one can when changing into unfamiliar clothes. She takes a moment afterwards to examine herself critically, making sure she looks okay- she can’t help but snort at the silly bat on the headdress- and once she’s reasonably sure she passes muster, Rute hurries on out again, holding her regular clothes.

“Where do I put these?”

let's just fling random magic around why tf not

[hatchethanging]

Nothing changes in the room. None of the spirits are that discourteous! And the bosses of the house would never let something like that slide.

"Lockers in the next room," she says, leading her there. "Locks provided."

The lockers themselves are fairly normal, half the height of an average person, two in a stack. The locks are the strange things: heavy brass, raven inlaid on one side, bat on the other. Leslie produces one from big bucket of the things, holding it out by the shackle. "Put the Raven against your heart for thirty seconds, and it'll unlock for you and you alone." Leslie glances at Rute's face. "I think we'll wait to see if you need makeup." The lighting in parts of the Mansion leave the sunniest mortals looking deathly. Just depends on where she's stuck first.

She steps out while her new coworker does this. It's easier to do when someone isn't watching, and everybody has a panicked moment when the Raven's eyes glow red the first time. She's just being polite, leaving her without an audience like that.

Whenever Rute reappears, Leslie beckons her again and tells her the next step: they're going to meet Madame Leota for a quick Séance Circle with the rest of the mortal cast.

[cessation_rites]

Rute takes the lock as gingerly as one can without dropping what is a solid metal thing. “Wouldn’t a normal key be... simpler?” she asks. She turns it over a few times in her hands, running her fingers over the inlays. It doesn’t feel especially strange but she doesn’t like the idea of putting her trust into something she doesn’t really understand. Though, she can’t exactly walk around for the rest of the day with her spare clothes under one arm, and alternatives don’t seem to be lining up for her.

So she obediently gives the lock thing a shot once Leslie leaves. The actual holding-against-the-heart part goes perfectly smoothly- her heartbeat’s a little faster than normal but nothing unusual happens- but once she’s counted out the thirty seconds and removed the lock, she sees the eyes glowing on the raven inlay and immediately drops the lock as if it just burst into flames.

“No-!” She hops back several steps, almost knocking into a nearby table. “Nope, no, don’t like that.”

The lock does nothing.

After a minute Rute goes “Ugh,” and tentatively picks it up again. She stares at it, hard, before finally giving in and opening the shackle, before properly putting her clothes away.

A few moments later an unsettled Rute leaves the locker room and obediently starts following after Leslie again. Though her forehead wrinkles a bit when she hears the next step. “What’s a séance circle?” she asks.

[hatchethanging]

The end of the hall has a set of well-carpeted stairs, only slightly dusty. The railing is particularly secure for mortal staff, and they head up it as Leslie gives Rute an odd look. What's a séance circle? Is that a real question she's asking? Who doesn't know what a séance circle is?

Before she can speak, the Host's disembodied voice answers from the high ceiling instead. "A séance circle, Miss Fernandes, is how most of our mortal staff can come to interact with our immortal staff." Leslie nods in his general direction, not pausing in her leading.

"You see," he continues, "not all are as able to communicate as myself, or Madame Leota. A séance among the living allows for proper communication without the assistance of those foolish letter-boards, and for most haunts to become visible. (Though I myself keep to being indiscernible at all times.) Madame Leota will speak a few words with the rest of our butlers and maids at the beginning of the day to allow it."

[cessation_rites]

“Host!” Rute stifles a shriek of surprise, twisting fruitlessly to look to the Host. Well. She really hopes that’s something she’ll get used to, and fast, or she’s going to suffer a lot of embarrassment.

“Ah,” she says, hurrying after Leslie again. “So more magic.” Although knowing its purpose, she can’t say she’s really opposed to the séance. If there are spirits around her, she’d prefer to know they’re there, thank you very much! “Madame Leota… I think she was mentioned as one of the senior staff members, right? One of the dead ones?” One who handled a lot of communication with ghosts inside and out of the house, if Rute is remembering (and understanding) what she was told correctly.

[hatchethanging]

Both the Host and Leslie are practiced enough to keep from laughing. It's a near thing. Most likely she'll spend her first stretch of time near the front of the Mansion, with its current little ghostly involvement.

"That's correct. In charge of what goes on in these walls as much as myself. No small feat," he says, drifting along behind the pair of them.

The room they head into isn't the official Séance Circle, held along the path the guests travel through. It was once a scullery, though any errant dishes have been cleared away, and the sinks have been dry for decades. An assortment of mortal butlers and maids are seated around various tables. Most look up when the door opens, politely nodding the trio's way.

In a dimly-lit corner furthest from the door, a butler with a five-o'clock shadow is playing a card game with a phantom while a few others look on. Over his shoulder, a maid's shaking her head, saying something about you know he cheats when you can't see him, give it up.

"Please, take a seat," the Ghost Host says, pulling a pair of chairs out. Leslie settles down promptly. "Nearly everyone is here, and then the séance can begin."

[cessation_rites]

It’s probably for the best they don’t laugh, even if the most Rute could and probably would do is glower about it.

She nods absently along with the Host’s explanation. Senior staff, equal rank with the Host apparently, which Rute surmises means Madame Leota is Boss Número Dois, She Who Is Also To Be Obeyed. (Within reason, of course.)

The séance room is a bit of a surprise once they enter, not because of the fact it’s clearly a scullery or kitchen of some sort, but because of how lively it is compared to how most of the Mansion has been. Although “lively” may not be the best choice of words she realizes, as the half-invisible card game catches her attention. She almost misses the chair the Host pulls out for her.

“...Thank you?” Rute says, the hesitation due to surprise more than anything else. But she sits down, if a little gingerly, and smooths out her skirt. She glances around the room, mentally counting the people she can see. (And can’t see, but can observe in other ways.) “How many are we missing?”

[hatchethanging]

"Just one or two. And the Madame herself, of course. She's often the last to arrive, so long as anyone else isn't running late." She's sometimes a little tetchy having to interact face-to-face with mortals so very often.

Even moreso now that the Host's theory that such contact in specific doses is good for them seems to be so true--it can take years for a ghost to get over petty grudges, and Leota isn't above it. It doesn't cause many disruptions, and so the Host doesn't try to fix things between them as easily as he could. In fact, the trouble can be enjoyable.

With excellent timing, as the Host quietly chuckles to himself, those last couple mortals filter in. And down the hall behind them, an eerie green glow begins crawling along the edges of the walls.

"Now," the Host tells Rute sotto voce as her fellow mortals start shifting around, some standing, some merely scooting their chairs, "is the circle of the séance circle. There's no need to hold hands, but do try to keep the shape intact."

Leota arrives, in all her floating disembodied glory. She notices Rute right off, though she does nothing but give her a long look before calling the rest to attention. (Unnecessarily, all eyes are already on her.) "We shall begin."

[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.