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[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP. A tale of two brothers from alternate 1879 France, and the witch, her golem, and other colorful characters, who get entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➤ PART I ➢ "La Caravane".

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[nerine]

[It amazes her really, how he's willing to say more than she does. There were still things she hadn't divulged, but not so much out of reluctance as it was timing. There's timing for everything.

Her eyes move to his piercings when he gestured to them. If he hadn't pointed it out, she wouldn't have noticed how deep they pierced into his skin, how tight they were.

He's 800 years old. How many people that weren't necessarily spirits, had he been able to talk to before her? It's a sobering thought.]

... I'm glad.

You're good now.

[crafting]

[ The funny thing is, that despite all his posturing and puffing and getting offended for trifles, all he wants is for someone to look at him and talk to him. He's fickle, and it's often hard to gauge what sort of compliments he bristles and gets shy about, but this one hits the mark. 'You're good' is basically the greatest compliment he can be given, like a stray cat that waits until the last possible moment for someone to pet it between its ears.

En actually beams at this. ]

—Yeah? Not bad, right? [ he hasn't hurt anyone too recently, right? This is an accomplishment, for him. The designation is a reward. ] Got better, right?

[ The fireflies around him start flitting a bit faster, almost as if they're feeding off his energy. ]

Took a long time! Figured it out, though. Humans wear a lot of things. But piercings stick around! Not like clothes. [ he's chattering now, talkative. ] The first few were too weak. But this one did it right. No one's thrown up. Cool, huh!

[ oh my god en shut up ]

[nerine]

[There's a sigh of fond exasperation and she reaches up to ruffle his hair. But she meant what she said and it makes her happy that En's happy. It's been a while since her feelings towards another person had grown like this, like a flower that had the fortune to be uninterrupted in its blooming. The feeling had spread in her heart and it's unexpected warmth makes her smile.]

You're a very clever Nue and I'm glad for it.

Let's get to that mansion then, alright?

[IT'S BUSINESS TIME.]

[crafting]

[ For the first time, he doesn't look too put-off when she ruffles his hair. There's even a reciprocation of her smile, pleased and genuine, before he hums his acquiescence with a short mm and starts walking again. ]

—This way, 's close.

[ And it is, in fact, close. It's an old, abandoned Japanese-style mansion by the water, tucked just at the base of the mountain that the river winds down from: a secluded place that seems deceptively beautiful, comprised of long, wooden hallways shrouded by weeping willows and overgrown shrubs.

It seems innocuous enough. Like something out of a Miyazaki film, if not for the strange littering of offerings that meet them at the gate leading into the mansion proper. Small wooden dolls draped in red, triangular bibs, lining the stone in a morbid array. ]

...Weird. Didn't hear about all these offerings. Must be the anniversary. [ OF WHAT, EN

OF WHAT ]

[nerine]

[Unsettling. The back of her neck tingles and it's both natural and unnatural, coming from her demonic mark as their instincts merge and resonate with one another. If it had been daytime, the mansion wouldn't have looked as daunting and intimidating as it did now. It may be even beautiful with some sunlight to pierce through it. So was this a good idea...?

Ah, well it was too late to back out and curiosity was a serious problem with Monts. She looks at the dolls incredulously.]

Aren't offerings usually food, candles, flowers, or... I don't know. Not these? They're kind of cute, but...

[crafting]

Mm. Probably because of the story of this place.

[ Which he has woefully neglected to tell until now, because... because. En's an airhead like that, sometimes.

That, and because supernaturals lingering around have become so commonplace that he doesn't even find explanations for them to be necessary. Japan is a predominantly Buddhist and Shinto country, so polytheism and spirits being everywhere is just a common cultural fact— grass is green, water is wet.

But, okay, here's the story: ]

Uh... 300 years back? Girl used to live here. Really sickly, y'know? People didn't know why she was sick. So her parents made a house here. Near the mountain, near the water. Thought it would help her recover. Real rich people.

Her parents didn't live with her, though. They were probably assholes. [ EN PLEASE... ] Probably didn't want to get sick too. So they gave her dolls. Lots of 'em. Visited her once a month. She had maids and stuff.

Until they stopped visiting. They died in some accident? Fire, I think. Dunno, who cares. They were assholes. [ En... ] Maids couldn't just live there with her. Wasn't getting paid. So, you know.

Humans do that kind of stuff. Used to, at least. Culling. [ The girl was going to die, anyway— or that's how they justified it. ] Put her in a room with all her dolls. Smothered her in her sleep.

No one wants to live here anymore. People think the plague's in the walls. Her sadness.

So sometimes they leave dolls. To keep her happy, I guess.

—Anyway, I heard that there's a real good hunk of jade in there. Wanna make a necklace out of it. [ ok en but what's wrong with you ]

[nerine]

Well, it sounds like they had a few steps right, but the rest they got wrong.

It DOES feel sad... [Her voice trails off and she steps forward to go further into the premises.]

I could have been like her.

[For obvious reasons. That last part is said quietly, almost a whisper.

The countryside isn't a bad place to recover. Less urban disturbances, less noise, and fog. And yet, what good were those things if it couldn't be shared? Monts feels for this poor nameless girl, mainly because she had been lonely before until her grandparents with their strength kept her at their side even when she made things hard for them.

She raises a brow at En at that last part, c'mon man.]

Are you sure you can take something from a sad place, unscathed?? I kind of doubt it.

[crafting]

[ He catches that last fragment and frowns, spins his words over in his mind to attempt something like an indignant comment in response. It doesn't quite land, because all he manages is a clumsy: ]

You're here now, 's what counts.

[ Quickly waving his awkward statement aside (even if he wants to ask), he presses on. ]

Problem is that people stop coming to places like this. Makes some spirits even more lonely, y'know? What's it called... 'negative reinforcement'?

People keep saying 'don't go there', so they don't. If there's a ghost, might want company. Might not have talked to someone in decades. Centuries.

If there's someone in there, can't just assume they wanna kill you.

[ This is a very nice sentiment, but En's been wrong before. ]

[nerine]

I think I get what you mean.

[She reaches up to brush a hand over a leaf from one of the overgrown trees that have low enough branches, abundant with greenery.]

If you keep them lonely for that long, of course they might become dangerous.

[crafting]

Yeah. Y'know. Like...

[ He almost says too much, a quick 'some mononoke just want attention'. It's clear that that would be a bit too pertinent to him, though, so he stops and.

Looks a little embarrassed. ] ...Being lonely sucks for anyone.

So we're doing a good thing. [ He is, in fact, not doing a good thing. ]

[nerine]

[And that last point, she'll gladly poke at.]

Well, I'm not sure if the ghosts will be happy if you're taking their stuff, but that's your call.

[She goes up a step or two that leads to one of the sliding doors.]

And they're not getting any deader, I'll jump right in.

[crafting]

[ He's not sure whether to puff up or be pleased by that comment, but eventually he settles on the latter, canines flashing between arched lips. ]

—Yeah, well. You wanted to do something different. Right?

[ En why did you make this assumption.... anyway, he also slips between the gates and starts balancing on the rounded stone pathway leading to the main house. The manor is made up of one main mansion with several smaller offshoots, lacquered wooden halls leading, serpentine, into other residences. The screens on the doors have all but rotted away, leaving only the skeletal wooden frameworks to sit sadly along the walls.

Once En makes his way into the entrance, he's immediately followed by a sense of punishing foreboding. To the right is a pathway leading to the servant's quarters, but to the left, there's that eerie row of unblinking wooden dolls again, in various states of disrepair.

Some are missing their heads, and some have been painted over with a childish hand. As if the owner tried to apply makeup onto the smooth faces and got frustrated halfway in the process— smears of red, blue, and yellow dot a portion of them.

Flatly: ] Okay.

This is weird as hell.

[nerine]

Curious...

[The mark on her back is trying to crawl all around her in agitation, but Monts simply brushes it off. She has no time for it to go hog wild unnecessarily.

She kneels down to poke at one of the dolls and...]

... Was it just me or did some of them blink at us?

[crafting]

[ When Monts pokes at once of the dolls, the one next to it might look like it's suddenly swiveled, tilted its wooden head upwards to open its mouth, to whisper:

You hate them too, don't you?

Don't you?

En, too busy crouching down and picking at another doll with its face entirely reddened out, doesn't seem to notice at all. ]

Urgh. Creepy. [ He frowns, straightens back up. ] Might be better if we make this quick. 's a weird place. Not a great hangout.

[nerine]

... Yeah.

[The voice is disturbing to say the least. It's not unlike what she used to hear frequently as a child after her body was taken over.

She doesn't fight against her mark this time. The tendrils don't exactly try to go for her mind, but it appears circle around and down her arm and twist itself around her fingers. One darkened hand reaches up to rub her forehead and she takes a deep breath.]

Next room then. I vote right. Less dolls.

[crafting]

[ En is casually leaning against the wall, counting dolls on his fingers when he notices the change in his companion, the dark markings that snake around her extremities. ]

—Monts? You alright?

[ His shoulders draw back. not from fear, but out of guilt. ]

...Want to leave? You can wait outside. I'll make it quick.

[nerine]

En, I'm fine. I am. Sometimes it's okay to just let it move around, just...

[The young woman draws herself closer to En when he makes the suggestion for her to wait and lightly leans her forehead against his shoulder.]

No, I... I don't want to leave you alone.

[crafting]

[ En's expression twists, clearly conflicted. Torn between wanting to do the right thing, not knowing what the right thing is on a good day, not wanting to be bad. He's had enough of that last option, and he dreads the thought of being delegated to scary stories about a fearful creature who only brings villages to ruin. His ancestors died with that story in their bones; he's afraid of that being his legacy.

But more than that, even, he's fearful of ruining Monts. Of hurting her because of his bad decisions.

So he wraps his arms around her and hugs, tentatively at first. It's a strangely innocent gesture, reminiscent of a child holding onto the ends of his favorite blanket. ]

Fine. Don't leave me alone, okay. [ When he pulls back, he nods, amber-yellow eyes flicking up and down in barely-concealed worry. ] ...This place is creepy. So, I dunno. Uh.

[ He remembers what they did back at the river a while back, so: ] Wanna. Hold hands?

Or something! You don't hafta.

[nerine]

[It's not like she can't stand on her own. It's not like she couldn't just wait. But she doesn't want to. Her mark tells her to go, but Monts wants to persevere. The hug from En surprises her of course and her arms just dangle uselessly, embarrassingly so in her opinion (not that he needed to know that).

And when he makes the suggestion to hold hands...]

... I thought you'd never ask.

[Her one hand, finding its bearing finds its way to entangle fingers in his.]

[crafting]

[ When it comes down to it, having been non-corporeal for so long has instilled somewhat of an admiration for tactility in En. He's shy, yes, but he likes the feeling of things between his fingers, of being able to touch, to feel.

So he easily twines his hand with Monts', gratified with the fact that she's said yes. Emboldened, a little. ]

...'k. You good? Hall's this way.

[ And he leads her with his arm swinging just slightly, drawing an arch and cutting through the heavy atmosphere of the mansion. The dolls seem to whisper after them, but the murmurs still once they turn right and head down the hall to the servants' quarters.

Curiously, the screen doors in this part of the building are still intact, where they should have rotted away ages ago. They lead to tidied bedrooms, and it's really apparent that something is strange about the place when En turns a corner and finds futons laid out on tatami, as if someone'd recently been sleeping on them. ]

Hm. This place smells different. Newer? [ As if someone's done their best to keep this place hospital, despite all odds. If the other room exuded loneliness, this place is thick with regret. ]

[nerine]

I'm good. Thanks.

[Maybe it's because her shadow and En aren't from dissimilar cloth, but either way it does not protest against Monts when she holds his hand. Her want of the simple comfort trumps any discomfort her mark and the environment around them is giving her.

The tidied bedrooms are out of place to Monts who thinks they shouldn't be in any kind of use.]

Maybe someone was here before us? A squatter?

[crafting]

Pretty tidy for a squatter.

[ En finally unwinds his fingers from Monts' to edge over to one of the futons, prodding it with a foot. ]

Might be trying to redo this place aga—

[ —and his sentence ends there, as he peels off the top layer of the futon to reveal

bones.

A pile of human bones.

En slowly puts the futon back into place, smooths over it with his palm. ]

—ok. Vengeful ghost. Not happy. Definitely not happy.

[ And there it is, again, that quiet whisper: 'they all left, all of them. Big sister, why aren't you alone? Aren't you the same as me? Don't you deserve to be alone?' ]

[nerine]

Oh, what the-...

[Before Monts can finish voicing her disbelief at the bones, the whisper gets to her more than she intended to. Her body, which she has to reclaim so many times isn't hers anymore because the shadow is on the defensive against the other voice. Monts leans against the wall as her breath hitches. Her voice is raspy, almost a hiss.]

En... En is she in here? Where is she?

[crafting]

[ He whips his head around the room, which is empty, then back towards the hall—

—where a little girl with long, black hair watches from behind the screen door, fingers hooked in the holes she's made in tiled lattices.

En startles, almost tripping over the futon on the floor in the process. Not to mention that he hears that oddity in Monts' voice, which prompts him to look even more startled. ]

Monts, get outta here...!

[ But where? He can see the thin sheen of a supernatural barricade around this entire room, almost as if to cage them inside.

The girl outside in the hall drags her long hair along the floor, swaying from side to side.

"It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair." ]

[nerine]

[Monts doesn't answer and instead slides down, her back against the wall, hand on her face, her own skin darkening as the tendrils take over her body. Her mind feels clouded, but at the same time, other emotions emerge, bubbling, angry, irritated, what is this stupid little girl trying to do??]

... So that's the way she's going to play, huh?

[... Her voice is different.

Monts stands up, the darkness under her skin pulsing and moving like blackish red vines.]

... Hey. En.

[When she directs it at him, it's almost like a playful coo.]

What she trying to do? She's not nice at all, is she?