imeeji_frontstage | GHOST HUNT (the Prequel)

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GHOST HUNT (the Prequel)

Who: YOU
Where: THE GAME TOWER
When: NOW!!!

[You arrive to the game tower where today, the atmosphere seems to be quite s~p~o~o~k~y. Fog seems to cover the entire floor area and any visible area of the tower is covered by things like (fake) spiderwebs and also (fake) spiders hanging around in (fake) trees.

It would probably feel a little more spookier if it wasn't for the fact that music is blaring throughout the tower. Someone is a host today, but it's impossible to tell whom considering they're covered in a white sheet with holes cut out for eyes.

Until they talk anyway.]

I GOT A ★~★~PROMOTION~★~★

To host the greatest haunted house party that you can imagine!! But w-w-w-wait, haunted houses are s-scary! I don't wanna make you guys get too scared so we'll start small . . .

Small . . . tiny . . . miniscule . . .

It's still gonna be dangerous though!! Ghosts are PRETTY uncontrollable, ya know~? I've seen SAWoleen XVI, I know how it goes!!

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[It lowers toward the journal, even more painstakingly than before]

[Starts to write, with a couple of breaks where it falls over (through him) entirely]

[But when it's done, the journal says: hey]

[Looks around again, more hesitant]

...Hey?

[The pen falls again - rights itself again - begins to form more words]

[It takes longer this time, and there doesn't seem to be much improvement in either the stability or handwriting]

[But finally, in shaky letters, it says:]

its me

Edited 2021-09-05 17:06 (UTC)

[Her expression goes shaky for a beat before firming up again, defensive]

--Prove it. Show me you ain't just any old murderghost fucking with my--with me.

[It takes a painfully long time, to write the next one. If anything, he's getting worse as he gets tired]

[But eventually:]

ask me a question

I...

[She hesitates, considering]

...When was the last time you slept?

[Just as long, this time]

[What it finally reads is:]

dude

low blow

Oh--

[She looks at the journal, and at the corpse, and at thin air since ghosts aren't real enough to be visible, and plops back down next to him]

...Oh.

[The journal nudges itself toward her]

[A question mark appears, this time]

[She's not exactly sure where to look; ends up staring past the hands limp in her lap, head bowed]

...Sorry.

[The writing takes a long time; the pen drops once, while he works]

[But what finally comes through is:]

aint ur fault

[She doesn't look up; there's nothing to look at, anyway]

Shoulda done my job 'stead of trying to grandstand. Maybe this woulda turned out different.

[It takes longer to write, this time, but eventually:]

u were standing up to it same as me

it was just the luck of the draw

[Her head sinks further]

Shouldn't've let you be there in the first place...

Edited 2021-09-06 07:38 (UTC)

[Some more considerable effort produces]

we were literally locked in the room

[No response, instead just curling her arms tight around her knees again]

[The writing is getting slower, as though it's becoming more difficult with him, but eventually he manages:]

it aint ur fault

[An underline appears beneath "ain't"]

[More silence. Then:]

...If you only go so much ghost strength, don't waste it.

Edited 2021-09-06 22:55 (UTC)

[Another couple of underlines, for good measure]

[Sorry, too busy huddling up into her knees to read ghost notes. Maybe the game will eventually end at least]

[That doesn't stop him from getting a good half a page in, painstakingly, with a great deal of trial and failure, before he realizes she isn't looking and probably doesn't plan to]

[The pen wobbles again and falls, mid-word, and this time he doesn't bother to pick it up]

Edited 2021-09-07 00:27 (UTC)

[Sorry bud, just gotta hang out with thoughts and corpse for a while]

[That while approximately lasting until somebody moves corpse, honestly, unless something more spoopy than ghost writer interrupts]

[Possibly there is ghost speech going on, too, but of course she can't hear it]

[It goes on for a long while, honestly; he has plenty of practice talking to people who can't see or hear him. And if perhaps it edges over into desperate after a while, well - he has plenty of practice at that, too]

[It's probably fine]

[Probably!]

[For her part, she stays with her face buried in her knees, shoulders sagging]

[He stops trying, eventually]

[His face isn't hidden by anything, but that's probably fine, too. No one can see it, anyway, to tell if the cheeks are wet]

[Eventually, though, almost tentative, a cold spot comes to settle beside her]

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