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Pareidolia: The Oncoming Storm

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Pareidolia (pron.: /pærɨˈdoʊliə/ parr-i-doh-lee-ə) is a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant.


Pareidolia, Scotland: an out-of-the-way little village of the type that is often called "quaint" or "sleepy" by the flattering (like the tourist board, for example) but "dull as dishwater" and even less pleasant terms by those cursed by fate or fortune to actually live there. A settlement of around five hundred souls in total, it boasts three shops, a pub, a post office, a primary school, a GP, a seven-hundred-year history and the crumbling remains of an abandoned mental asylum. Far away from the noise and excitement of big cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh, time here passes more slowly than the herds of well-fed sheep that dot the surrounding hillsides. The residents are mostly middle-aged to elderly, old-fashioned, conservative and respectable, with only just enough children to justify the school. Not the type of place, then, that you'd expect a murder spree to happen.


It started in the springtime of the last year, when little Susanne Watts vanished on her way to school. Expecting her to creep home in the evening after a day goofing off with friends, her mother didn't bother to raise the alarm until night fell and her daughter still hadn't returned; the entire village came out in force, spending the entire night and most of the next day combing the surrounding countryside for any trace of the little girl. But despite all their efforts it wasn't until a week later that the girl's corpse was found, bobbing forlornly under the village bridge. The autopsy showed death was caused by drowning and a community was united in mourning. Given the popularity of the bridge and river-bank as a playground for children, who cheerfully ignored their parents' warnings as to its dangers, it was assumed that Susanne's death was nothing more than a tragic accident. At least until that autumn when another child, a boy this time, disappeared from his grandparent's back garden. He turned up again the next day in the branches of a tree, his brains bashed in with a rock. Then in the last days of a harsh winter, a farmer herding in his sheep for the lambing noticed a strange bundle lying in a burnt patch of grass. It turned out to be the half-burnt corpse of a toddler, snatched from the cradle that night as he and the rest of his family slept; his parents hadn't even noticed he'd gone.


There was no doubt about it, the policeman from Glasgow said. This was a serial killer.


After deaths of three innocents, the community was on high alert and eager to point fingers. Those who stood out even the slightest bit from the norm were cast under suspicion, with rumours whispering of their guilt and some becoming convinced that it was indeed them that had taken the children's lives; some were even taken in by the police for questioning, but all proved themselves alibi. Not that soothed the local's suspicion's any, with the rest of the community remaining convinced that one of them was the killer. As the winter moved on into spring and then into summer with no advances in the police investigation, the paranoid atmosphere began to take its toll: fights broke out almost nightly in the village pub, previously loving couples fought like cat and dog at the least provocation, their children finding it hard to concentrate at school and frequently acting up. Outside, the weather was close and heavy, with thunderstorms rumbling on the horizon. The radios and TVs of the town began to act up, frequently blasting out nothing but static or snatches of strange voices singing unknown songs. Pressure was building up and something had to give- and soon.


Frustrated by their inability to shake off their supposed guilt and the police's inability to catch the murderer, many of these suspects began to move by themselves to investigate the crimes and many of them found their inquiries uncovering something every different from what they'd imagined. Some peeked under Pareidolia's respectable front and found something darker than they'd imagined. Some looked into the histories and found tales of sorrow and bloodshed as the nation hunted for witches. Other cast their eyes into the more recent past, looking at the crumbling ruins of the mental asylum and the cruelties that happened within those walls. Yet all of them came to the same conclusion- that there was more to these deaths than an ordinary madman, and that everyone in the village was in grave danger. Now they just had to convince them that they were.


It's currently July and tensions are coming to a head. All the strange phenomenon that had occurred over the late spring and early summer had increased. Now the TVs and radios of the village barely functioned for more than a minute before abruptly changing to static, the strange songs repeating over and over as shadowed faces flickered in and out of the 'snow-field'. Thunderstorms came almost daily now, with rumours spreading of strange figures that walked the empty streets whenever the rains came. More rumours speak of lights showing in the old asylum's windows, and the distant hum of a generator awoken after decades of disuse. As more and more strange events occur, those seeking the truth are faced with one very uncomfortable question: how much of this is a sign of the encroaching storm, and how much is simply desperate minds scrabbling for order and meaning where nothing but chaos exists?


It's all in your head.

Edited by Ruins

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Tl;dr Plot: Three children have been murdered in a sleepy Scottish village; fingers have been pointed at the local 'madmen' and freaks, who investigate the crimes in an attempt to prove their innocence. All the while, strange things happen- the TVs and radios are acting up, strange figures walk the streets and they say the lights of the abandoned mental asylum light up at night. As the tension in the village rises at the polices' lack of progress and the outbreak of violence becomes more and more likely, it's up to the rag-tag bunch of detectives to answer the ultimate questions: is this the work of some ancient evil or a mundane murderer? Are these strange events part of a larger plot or just random co-incidences? And are they coming closer to the truth or deeper into insanity?


Places Around Pareidolia

Main Street: What is says on the tin. Properly named "Greenwell Street", but no locals call it that. About three quarters of a mile long, containing the three shops, the library, the Post Office and the GP (General Practitioner); the Primary School is at the south end, the pub at the North. Further to the South, the Main Street joins on to larger roads on the way to Glasgow. There's a nice war memorial midway along, dedicated to the 4 1/3 village men lost in WW2.

The Dancing Hare: The local pub and heart of the community- the male part of the community, anyway, who gather there almost nightly to drink and play pool or darts. A lot of the village teenagers try to sneak in there while underage, but since every knows who everyone else is it's a hopeless task.

The Post Office: This is where you send your post, get your pension and collect your packages. Also sells magazines, stationary and sweets; the local bored teenagers hang around the steps, waiting until the day that they're old enough to move far, far away from here.

The Library: On Main Street. Not much to shout about, but there's a nice selection on local history- especially the witch-burnings- and they'll happily order you in books from the city. There's a cafe on the side that sells teas and cakes; just don't get jam on the pages or the librarian will kill you.

Saint Blane's Primary And Pre-School: Serves for village education from the ages of three to nine; there's only four teachers between the sixty pupils, but they're hard-working and always willing to help. Two of the three murder victims attended the school.

Saint Blane's Church: On a street turning off the Main Street, the Church has seen a thinning of congregations in recent years, though the murders and attendant emotional crisis have pushed numbers up. The local Reverend is very keen on company and will give you a guided tour of the church's rich history, whether you asked for one or not.

Pareidolia Rest Home For The Mentally Strained: A madhouse under any other name. Closed at the start of the 1900s after continued reports of severe cruelty by the wardens and doctors towards their 'patients', ie inmates, which lead to several deaths. Located just over a mile away from the village's Northern end.

The Park: It's a park. It has swings, and a roundabout, and those funny wiggly things on springs. Oh, and a slide. Fun.





1. This is a semi-lit RP: please use your best spelling and grammar wherever possible. Copy-paste posts into Word or similar programmes if you're unsure if you've spelt something wrong; many browsers come with spell-check or can have it installed, for extra handiness. (That's the only reason MY posts aren't a mess of typos and stupid spelling mistakes.)


2. Although this is a horror RP, please keep gore and such to PG13 levels- remember, less is sometimes more. That said, I do encourage gore, injures and even romance, if love does bloom. I have no problem with same-sex romances, either. Feel free to make your characters homosexual, bisexual, transgender... Anything you can think of.


3. No Mary-Sues or Gary-Stus. This isn't a place for powerful wizards or kung-fu fighters. You're an Ordinary Joe/Josephine from a little Scottish village, keep it realistic.


4. Please don't machine-gun posts, give others time and space to react to what you just did- try not to leave others behind. To be left alone is to die.


5. Try to give notice whenever you leave for an extended period as not to leave others hanging. If you leave for more than a week, I may be forced to... do something to your character so that everyone else can move on.


6. If I read your PM but don't reply, I'm probably busy with university work or simply thinking of something to say. Please don't get too offended, but do remind me if I don't reply with two days. I might have forgotten you messaged me at all.


7. Look at the bottom of the first post. Then at the rules. The first hidden code is your PM's title, the second is the passcode.



[B]Looks:[/B] (More than four sentences, please.)
[B]Picture:[/B] (Optional. Links only, please.)
[B]Personality:[/B] (More than five sentences, please. No 'To Be RP'ed.)
[B]History:[/B] (Just a rough outline- three sentences minimum.)
[B]Weakness/Flaws:[/B] (Not just 'They're too nice' or 'They're so pretty it's a curse'. Real flaws.)

Edited by Ruins

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Username: Ruins

Name: Doctor Logan Tasgall

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Looks: Tall and thin, Logan looks as if someone could snap him over their knee like a bundle of twigs; he has little muscle and angular features, especially his cheekbones and joints. He has dark brown hair that he keeps short and swept back from his face, with a matching neatly-shaved goatee beard. His eyes are stormy-grey and set deeply; his expression is usually either nervous or apathetic, smiling rarely and frowning almost never. Usually he wears practical, worn-looking clothes with mud-stains all over and grass-stains on the knees; clothes like corduroy trousers and long-sleeved t-shirts, and coats with lots of pockets to hold his equipment. He does own some glad-rags from his university days, collecting dust at the back of his wardrobe. When he does dress up, he tends to wear well-tailored suits and has a strange affection for bow ties. Either way, most of his clothes are in his favourite colours- brown, blue, or shades of green like emerald or teal. Oddly enough, as messy as his clothes get, he always keeps himself very clean.

Picture: Logan In A Rare Good Mood

Personality: If you were to pick just one word to describe Logan, it word most likely be ‘shy’ or perhaps ‘loner’- although the less charitable would probably choose ‘freak’. Quiet and withdrawn, he gives off the impression of being scared of everyone and everything, including his own shadow, and of being permanently a few seconds away from tears. When talked to, his voice barely rises above a whisper and he finds it very hard to look anyone in the eye for any amount of time. This, of course, assumes that someone managed to corner Logan and forced him to communicate, rather than the shy man spotting their approach and fleeing as usually happens, and that someone in Pareidolia actually wanted to talk to Logan. Most of the town see him as nothing more than a useless scrounger, a good-for-nothing man-child who can’t even get a job and do some good, honest work. The other half think he’s secretly a remorseless murderer, some sort of loner freak who ‘gets off’ on kidnapping and killing innocent children: a monster that should be locked up or, even better, hung for the good of society. And probably some sort of depraved homosexual, to boot.

However, those who actually get to know Logan will find that he is none of those things (well, almost none- no word on his sexuality yet) and that he has surprising hidden depths- not to mention a PhD in Biology. In fact, Logan is shockingly intelligent with an almost photographic memory for facts and an insatiable appetite for knowledge, especially if it involves plants or animals. He has an infinite love for anything floral or faunal, the kind of person who rescues baby birds with broken wings and cries when they die, and seems to prefer animals to people. He enjoys painting, the walls of his house decorated with watercolour paintings of birds and flowers that show a raw yet tragically undeveloped skill for art. However, it is true that he is an extreme doormat. Logan never learnt how to argue or stand up for himself and the idea of being rude to anyone- even if they’re being utterly vile to him- is an utterly alien one. Politeness at all times is practically his religion and he is a very faithful follower.

And yet that doesn’t stop him from feeling anger, a deep-seated resentment at the cold and uncaring village that turned him from a clever child full of promise to what he is today; the unconscious knowledge that he has been deeply wronged past and that nobody is acknowledging the fact. These emotions scare him deeply and he is unable to express them in a healthy manner, randomly feeling bursts of rage where he simply wants to hurt everyone and destroy everything he can. Then the anger fades and he is left terrified of himself, suppressing his rage and started the cycle over again.

History: To say that Logan’s parents were not nice people would be like saying that the sea is a bit wet or space is larger than a football field- it simply doesn’t do justice to the sheer not-niceness of the people who somehow managed to spawn a delicate creature like Logan. He was never wanted in the first place, viewed with resentment from the moment his heart first started beating. If it weren’t for his mother’s intensely religious upbringing, it would be doubtful that he’d have been born at all. But he was born, and from the moment he entered the world his parents decided to take their resentment at their situation out at him. Logan refuses to talk or even think about his childhood but anyone around his age remembers the skinny little boy in the dirty clothes, the one who was always sitting in the corner and never had the energy to play. The one who always had the bruised arms and face. Unfortunately, young children are better at hating the different than feeling empathy, so he was endlessly bullied both at home and at school. The adults of the village, meanwhile, looked at the little boy and said nothing; it was none of their business, after all, how a parent chose to discipline their child. And he probably deserved a good beating, the little hellion. His only relief were the animals he saw in the fields and nearby woods, from the fish in the river to the birds that nested in the tree in the playground. He learnt all he could about them, spending hours sitting in a tree alone and in silence just watching nature happen around him.

Despite all the hardship, though, he managed to move through the education system well enough to earn a place in university in Edinburgh to study Zoology; in the city, finally away from his parents and studying the subject he loved, Logan finally managed to come out of his shell and make friends. He stayed on after his degree to earn his doctorate, then for two years after that simply enjoying life. Logan would have stayed in the city forever had his father not had a stroke and died, forcing him to return to Pareidolia for his funeral and to look after his ailing mother, sick from years of chain-smoking and drinking. Back in the poisonous atmosphere of his youth, his new confidence crumbled and he reverted back to a terrified child. Even when his mother died of lung cancer just three years later, Logan never thought of leaving the home that he used to hate so much; he had utterly surrendered, convinced that this is what he deserved. Five years later and he’s still there, dreaming of a life he didn’t know he stole from himself.

Lately, however, he’s finding a little of his forgotten confidence. Although he did nothing but cry and shiver when the police barged into his house to bring him into questioning, some part tiny part of him refuses to take it lying down. This part is what made him decide to investigate the murders himself, spending hours in the library and on the internet, soaking on data like a sponge. A little shoot of defiance is growing inside him, getting larger every day, and refuses to wither.


• Intelligent;

• Excellent memory for facts and figures;

• Empathetic;

• Forgiving;

• Kind and gentle to everyone;

• Knows basic first aid.


• Can’t say ‘no’ to anyone, a doormat;

• Easily scared;

• Cannot handle feeling angry or passionate;

• Depressive;

• No physical strength or ability to defend himself;

• Suffers from a fear of the dark and trypophobia (phobia of holes, especially clustered holes or holes in living creatures, i.e. a seed-pod, a toad’s back or in somebody’s skin);

• Freezes in panic when scared.

Passcode: Look at the rules, please.



Username: SkyeDragon

Name: Gavina Avery

Age: Twenty-Five

Gender: Female

Looks: Standing at roughly 5'00'' and weighing in at just 105lbs, Gavina Avery is a very small woman. She doesn't tolerate short jokes from her peers either. Gavina's hair hangs down to her mid back and she likes it that way, though she usually has it in her bun-braid while teaching and a regular braid when out and about. She wears button-up blouses with either a skirt or nice pants when she's teaching, though she wouldn't wear that outfit outside of her teaching job of course. Outside of the school, Gavina wears regular jeans and t-shirts just like the next person would. While she's reading in the classroom Gavina wears a pair of glasses, she tends to get headaches when she reads too much.

Picture: Gavina

Personality: Being a Primary School Teacher, Gavina is a very kind and patient person, especially around children. Along with that she is very protective of any child that she comes into contact with, as all children are dear to her heart. However, that protectiveness also comes with a harsh temper if anyone ever dares to mess with a child. Gavina's patience and kindness only stretch so far before she snaps, and no one wants to be on the receiving end of her temper. Though she won't snap in front of a child unless absolutely necessary, and she keeps her cool if a child begins to get on her nerves, she doesn't want to lose her job after all, and she would rather keep the trust and respect of the parents in the community.

History: Gavina Avery was born and raised in Pareidolia, she was born and plans to die there. She has led a normal life and gotten a job as one of the Primary School Teachers at Saint Blane's. The only real non-normal part in Gavina's life is the fact that she has never dated anyone. That's not to say that she has never been interested, she just has never been asked. She doesn't mind though, it doesn't really bother her much anymore.

When the murders began, Gavina was devastated. Susanne Watts had been in her class and she had been the one that told Susanne's mother that the girl hadn't shown up to school that day. When the little girl's body had been found, Gavina cried for hours. Later that year when the little boy's body had been found, Gavina would cry again at the loss of another of her students. When the toddler was found that Winter in the hills, Gavina really lost it. Throughout all of this, however, the woman had been able to remain somewhat calm in front of her students and continue with their lessons, though they had been drastically simplified and the load had been lightened due to the deaths.

When the teacher was taken in for questioning, she nearly broke down and had a mental breakdown right there in the Police Headquarters. She had been at the school early, the other teachers had seen her, the day that Susanne Watts had disappeared. She was grading papers when the little boy went missing. She had been at the school late when the toddler had turned up missing. Gavina was cleared of police suspicion, but some of the people in town still believed that she was behind it. That tore the woman apart, she would never lay a harmful hand on a child!

As the months went on and strange things began to happen in town, the young woman found herself crying herself to sleep more nights than not. This was not how things were supposed to be! She just wanted to continue to teach the town's children, maybe find a man and marry someday and have a few children of her own. Then she would retire when she could no longer teach, and then she would die of old age and be buried next to her family in the graveyard.

Gavina still went to school every day and taught the children of Pareidolia, though she could see the difference in their eyes. They were scared, terrified even, and she couldn't show her fear in front of them. She was tense, and things were most likely going to get worse before they got better.


:: Patience

:: Protective

:: Independent

:: Puts others before herself

:: Loves children


:: Holds in her emotions

:: Can be overprotective at times

:: Will care for others before she cares for herself

:: Sometimes can't communicate with adults

:: Hates thunderstorms

Passcode: See Rules, please.


Username: PureDark006

Name: Sidley Dussander, or Sid for short

Age: Twenty-two

Gender: Male

Looks: Sid has short, black hair with a long strand on his right side that reaches his chest, and dark-blue slanted eyes that tend to make him look like he's thinking of something even when he's just bored or spacing out. He’s sensitive to cold, and as such, all his clothes are the long-sleeved variety. Due to his tendency to just wear the first thing he grabs from the closet, most of them are pretty plain too, often being only one or two colors. Besides that, he has a silver mp3 player, which he carries everywhere with its matching small headphones - it's always in one of his pockets, with the cord of the headphones under his shirt/jacket so he can just leave them hanging from his neck when he needs to take them off his ears.

Picture: Sid

Personality: At the library, Sid is your typical nice, polite worker, helping you find what you need and recommending things you may want to try. You definitely don't want to do anything to the books under his watch and be unhelpful about it, though, since one of the first things he was taught when he started working was how to deliver such a verbal beat-down you won't even think about complaining over the high replacement fees. On his free time he's rather easy to approach and will listen to you talk, but even then there's this faint vibe of wanting the conversation to be over that can be noticed, making most exchanges short. And he's fine with that, because he would rather be left to continue doing whatever he was doing. It certainly doesn't help that he has a very bad memory regarding faces, though he gets around by mentally associating people with characteristic features, things they often wear or the way they carry themselves. He rarely gets angry and even then doesn't shout, and you can tell when he's starting to get annoyed because he starts being sarcastic and using a weird sense of humor. He says he's religious, and though he doesn't go to church, observant people can notice the slight, respectful lowering of his head every time he passes in front of it.

History: Sid first came to Pareidolia three years ago with his sister Mary, who was twenty-four at the time, to look at a house that a couple who had moved recently had put on sale. While his sister discussed the finer details, Sid wasted no time in looking around town for a job that only required secondary education. He struck gold with the town's library; it was small enough that he could work there and learn on the fly, and just big enough for the owner to have been considering getting someone to help. After a few talks and having secured both the housing and the source of income, his sister left and Sid became an official resident of Pareidolia.

While he didn’t like to talk much about himself, over time the other villagers got to know a bit more about the newcomer. Apparently, he had a huge fight with his parents some time ago and currently wasn’t on talking terms with them, and he had been living with his sister and her husband while searching for a place to stay. He had been looking for almost a year, since he had wanted to be able to actually afford to live by himself, and Pareidolia had been the first match he’d found. He had no intention of going to college even if it’d get him a higher-paying job, and since he liked his current one and it allowed him to support himself, even though it wasn’t by much, he’d be happy to continue in it until the end of time.

The first year went by. Sid wasn’t especially close with anyone in the village due to a combination of lack of time (he poured as many hours as he could into the library, since it was hourly pay) and his personal problem of not being very good with faces and names, but he was easy to get along with if you didn’t tick him off and respected the library rules. Then, one night out of the blue, a concerned neighbor barged in and told him and the other librarian that Susanne, a little girl, had gone missing. The place was immediately closed for the day, the first time it closed early since the teen arrived, as everyone who had been there went out to look for the child. An effort proved useless when the corpse was found.

Things didn’t get bad until the third child was murdered. By then, the police had arrived and made a temporary HQ, yet the killer was still at large, without a single clue to point at the culprit. People started getting paranoid, and of course, some started looking at Sid the bad way. Wasn’t it too much of a coincidence that the murders started only a year and a half after his arrival? Wasn’t it too weird that a boy his age didn’t have any close friends there, preferring to keep to himself? It certainly didn’t help that the police decided that the middle of his working hours would be a good time for a two-hour-long interrogatory at the HQ, and Sid later would admit to himself that it had been a very bad idea to snap at the officer interrogating him and say “If I had really been the killer, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave the corpses in places so easily found”. The damage was done though, so for now, he decided to just try to stay in everyone’s view until the real murderer is found.


-Good with numbers


-Good physical shape



-Bad at remembering and recognizing faces, names and voices.

-Tends to overestimate himself

-Gets easily distracted

-Difficulty in remembering some things

Passcode: See Rules, please.


Username: SkullKrusher

Name: Vex Walker

Age: Twenty-seven

Gender: Male

Looks: Being around 5'6" and weighing almost 115 pounds, Vex considers himself average in the physical category. He has hair that reaches just a bit under his ear that he usually keeps combed down. When going to an important meeting or wants to do a better impression, he makes it slightly spiky, while otherwise he keeps it as it is. He can mostly be seen wearing a sweatshirt in many different colors, raging from crimson all the way to jet black. Then, under those is a pair of jeans or trousers, either blue or black for the former and a creamy white or black for the latter. Under those Vex usually wears a pair of sneakers - mostly black with some white parts.

Picture: Vex

Personality: As an ex-specialist serving in the UKSFT with his own team, Vex is very serious at almost all times. He is keen to keeping a lookout for everything that happens or is around him and feels responsible for the ones nearby. When he is not focused on keeping himself and the others safe, Vex is actually a very friendly, kind and gentle man. He enjoys the company of others, he is very helpful to any stranger and he is well-mannered. One thing not many know is that Vex is kinder to women because of his sister while he was growing up at a young age - she taught him a lot of things and that is why now he is such a nice and mannered man.

History: Vex Walker was born in the end of May in London. His childhood was tougher than most because his father was the only one working in the family, though he was able to keep the family fed and safe in their own warm house. His mother would go cleaning the houses of royalties around the town and his sister'd take care of him when she didn't go to school. She'd taught him manners that only a few nobles were used to and made him grow up to become an aspiring and nice man. There were days where his father had to look for a new job or when his mother couldn't find any herself, days that there was less food on the table and the house was colder, but he survived it all. After becoming 20 years old, Vex joined the police force and managed to join the UKSF in only three years. He served there four more years before being honorably discahrged after saving his teammates in a risky mission even after being shot three times in the gut, the leg and the shoulder. In the time that took for him to heal from his wounds, Vex had decided to go to Pareidoria because of the latest killings - he was from the military and could defend people there thanks to the pistol and weapon certificate he kept from the UKSF. He soon found a small apartment and bought it for himself. He still had to find a job, but that'd come soon as well as he bought furniture for the house. Currently, he may be called a newcomer to the town.


:: Ex-military specialist

:: Brave

:: Friendly and mannered

:: Feels responsible for others

:: Intelligent

:: Knows some first aid


:: Too friendly and trusting

:: Can get angry very easily

:: Hard to calm except if shocked somehow

:: May be too brave for his own good

:: Puts others before himself

Passcode: See Rules, please.

Edited by Ruins

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((Bump. Anyone want to investigate a murder? ;3 )

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I would join but I can't find ANY hidden codes and I studied through the rules!

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Standing in the hallway, surrounded by musty coats, old umbrellas and other assorted junk, Doctor Logan Tasgall tried to sum up the courage to open his own front door and face other human beings for the first time in over a week. Not a difficult task by any stretch of the imagination for most people, but for him it required as much courage and mental preparation (and sometimes physical preparation) as scaling Mount Everest. It was a task he would have much rather put off, maybe for another week or perhaps even until next month, but he was forced to by circumstances. There were benefits at the Post Office that needed to be collected, daily essentials such as food to be brought and a book that was due back in the library today. These were not tasks he could put off unless he wanted to be poor, hungry and hounded down like a dog by the rather terrifying head librarian. So, it had to be done. Logan had to face the world.


Clutching the strap of his over-the-shoulder bag, in which his books were nestled, Logan swallowed as he reached for the front-door-knob. A simple twist and it was open, the door swinging towards him as a beam of surprisingly-bright sunshine hit him straight in the face. He blinked his watering eyes for a second, glancing quickly around to make sure that the coast was clear before he dared to step out of the door and- with a heart full of trepidation- shut it and lock it behind him. No going back now... he thought. A minute later and his spirits had lifted slightly. He had managed to walk down his garden path and some way down the street without anyone yelling "Murderer!" or any similar slur at him; in fact, the two people he had seen seemed to be pretending he didn't exist, which suited him fine. A small smile dared to creep onto Logan's face, and his pace became a little springier. Maybe nothing would go wrong today. Maybe he would have a nice walk in the sunshine, do what he needed to do and get home safely without having a panic-attack or once feeling like he was going to cry. In fact, if it went well today, he could go out tomorrow or maybe even the next day, try talking to some people... His thoughts were cut short by a car zooming by, sending the contents of a muddy puddle straight from the ground to splatter across his lower legs. Logan froze, looking from the retreating car to the mess it had made on his trousers, as his mind started to churn with panic. Oh God, oh noohnoohno... Calm down, calm down. They didn't do it on purpose. They didn't even know you were there. You can do it. You HAVE to do it... he told himself, trying to slow down his breathing and calm his mind before he bolted back inside the house like a rabbit into its burrow.


Unclenching his fist, un-biting his lip and letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, Logan forced his legs to move and carry him closer to his goal. Quickly he passed the school (he picked up his pace here, trying to ignore both the sound of children at play and the suspicious glares of the policemen guarding the front gate) and turned off into the Main Street. As it was around lunchtime there were a few people on their lunch-break, milling around the shops, but for the most part they ignored the skinny man who passed with his eyes glued on the pavement, and Logan managed to reach the library without any incident.


A bell jingled as he pushed open the library door, six-foot something of skin, bones and barely contained terror. Logan approached the front desk and poked the 'ring for attention' bell as if it might explode, summoning up enough courage to speak in a half-whisper. "Hello."

Edited by Ruins

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So far the day was going by relatively well for the young woman. Currently she was sitting at her desk and looking out her window, watching the children play outside in the playground. Gavina Avery sighed as she pulled her rather large glasses off of her face and placed them atop the papers she had been grading a moment before, placing her cheek in her left palm and resting her elbow on the desk. If anyone had asked her if she was alright, she would have brushed the question off and told them that she was just tired. But that wasn't the whole truth. Gavi was exhausted, and the constant looks that she got from random people in her hometown was starting to get to her.


It hadn't been bad until they had brought her in for questioning. They had the respect to do it after school was out, thank the heavens above for that small grace, but it had still tore the woman apart to her very core. Sighing once more, Gavina adjusted her body so that her forehead was now in both of her hands and she was staring straight down at the papers on her desk.


Her class had just had a spelling test before lunch and she needed to finish grading them, because she knew that the kids wanted to know what they got. Putting her glasses back onto her face and picking up her pen, Miss Avery got back to grading. Her students were very enthusiastic about school, for that she was truly grateful, so they had a competition between themselves after every test to see who had the highest score. Of course, they were all trying so hard that for the last test all of them had gotten a perfect score. Gavina had cried in happiness once she finished grading all the papers, she had been so proud of her kids that she had taken them all out to play a game of dodge-ball, there favorite game, before sending them home for the day.


Though the two empty seats in the room always sent a pang of despair through the woman's heart. Gavi was trying her best to move on, but things were still very hard on her. Letting out another sigh before shaking her head, the teacher went back to grading her kids' tests.


Her stomach grumbled in annoyance, and she eyed the steaming bowl of rice and noodles that she had just taken out of the microwave. Momentarily setting down her pen, Gavina took out her fork and ate a bit of the food before going back to grading.

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Sid took a step back, eyes scanning over the neatly arranged shelf as he twirled his longest strand of hair in his fingers with a pensive air. By section, then title, then author – after double-checking, he nodded to himself and went back to the book trolley he had been working on. Readers were encouraged to not put the books away themselves (it had the capacity to quickly descend into complete chaos with people shelving them on the first spot they found, especially in the children section), so one of his responsibilities was to put them back in their place when he wasn’t at the front desk. At this hour, he could afford it too, since most people were in the cafe and he wasn’t needed there.


Wonder if Mr. Shiny Watch is there,” he thought, picking up two books that belonged in the Local History section. He had seen the man some days when he went out for the lunch break, watching from the cafe; he knew it was the same because of the golden watch he had on the right wrist, and had wondered if he’d been seen hanging around other places near the so-called suspects. Because there weren’t even ‘official’ suspects, with the little amount of clues the murderer had left behind. Well, as long as they didn’t interfere with his work, Sid didn’t mind being watched; he had nothing to hide. Just a normal young adult, who today was dressed in worn-out white sneakers that were starting to look light gray, black pants that looked formal enough for the job and informal enough for the street with the silver cord of his headphones going from the right pocket to the inside of his plain white, long-sleeved T-shirt, and a black jacket that was dark grey on the sleeves, shoulders and sides, currently left open as the atmosphere inside the building wasn’t cold enough for the extra warmth the garment could provide.


The music from his headphones was at such a low level he could barely make out the lyrics, and only because he had them memorized, so he had no problem in hearing the soft jingling of the bell at the front door. Anticipating a customer, he made his way back to the front desk with the two books he had picked up being carried by his right arm. A man was heading there, and the first thing Sid noticed were the dirty watery stains on his pants, and how they were dripping on the floor. Great, he had just cleaned that morning.


He quickly went behind the desk, just as the bell in it was being ringed. As a little game, he timed it so it looked like the bell had summoned him from nowhere, something he liked to do when he had the chance, at the same time slightly pulling on the headphones' cord to yank them from his ears and letting them hang from his shirt.


“Hello, may I help you?” he greeted, writing in the small bloc he always had on the desk a small ‘Cln fl’ with a pencil that was next to it. He didn’t trust himself with mental notes, and the page he was currently in had similarly scribbled letters that looked random to anyone reading it. He also underlined it, emphasizing the need for the task to be completed before the head librarian came back. Something was telling him he’d have to skip lunch that day too.

Edited by Puredark006

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Logan blinked when the young man seemingly appeared from nowhere, taking an instinctive half-step backwards. He'd expected the Head Librarian, a middle-aged woman with a passive-aggressive attitude and a knitted horse jumper, but after a second of thought he was rather relieved; she'd been given him rather nasty looks lately, as if she suspected he might go on a murderous rampage there and then, which didn't help his fragile mental state any. This young man didn't look half as judgemental as her and certainly wasn't glaring at him like he was taking a dump on her shiny floors. On the other hand, he certainly was dripping on them, a realisation that made him blush slightly with shame. Oh no, look at that mess... I'm making trouble for people again, how horrible... Oh! He must hate me right now. It's going so wrong already... he thought, rubbing his ankle with the opposite foot and half-wishing he was safely at home instead of making people's lives hard out here.


"I just, um, I just... Er. I just have some books to return. If it's not too much trouble, of course..." he said quietly, fishing around in his bag and proffering the books: one about criminology, the other a beginner's guide to modern forensic technique. Only know did Logan realise just how guilty they made him look and his nervousness rose until he half-expected to be arrested there and then. His eyes were flicking from them to the other man's hand- anywhere but his face. "I'm really, really sorry about the floor. I-I could clean it up for you, I guess..."

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The guy was speaking so low, if he had come at one of the more populated hours Sid wouldn't have been able to get all he was saying. He wondered if the man had just come from an encounter with the Madam; he definitely looked as if he was half expecting someone to randomly stab him on the back. Repeatedly.


"It's only a problem if they're returned late or damaged," he commented, setting down the books he himself had been carrying while the man searched his bag, the smallest one on top and both facing the same way. Sitting down in the plush revolving chair - which was secretly one of the reasons he liked his job -, he received the two books and proceeded to do a quick check on them. He supported the spine of the first with one hand as the other held the front cover, bending the book slightly so his thumb could slide on the side of the pages, quickly passing them as he checked for any stains, bent pages or other imperfections. The whole process took about three seconds per book, and he nearly missed the half-whisper that the man added almost at the end.


"Just don't make a habit of it and we're even," he replied with a dismissive wave in a friendly tone. The books were fine, which meant he could be nice. Taking a small key-ring from the pocket of his jacket, he opened the second left drawer of the desk, where they had all the book cards ordered by the number of the books they had been taken from; each book had a number that was used for their organization, according to the Dewey Decimal Classification, and a small envelope glued on the inside back cover that contained a card with information on dates of lending and returning, and who was the one who borrowed them. The lowest-number book being returned was the one about criminology, 364.09, and sure enough, the card was there, a paper clip holding it together with number 614.10, which meant they had been borrowed by the same person. One Mr. Logan Tasgall, which he assumed was the man he was talking to. The dates on the cards showed today was the last day to return them, so no problems there either.


"That would be all, Mr. Tasgall. Anything else I can help you with?" Sid offered, opening the drawer on the right that was labeled 'O-U'. Books weren't the only ones that had cards, and these ones, organized by last name, had written which books the person had taken out and the condition of their return. He just needed to add to Tasgall's one the new information and he'd be done.

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(( Okay, let's try a post... ))


"Thank you very much for your help," A male voice spoke as it sent away a couple of workers. The men had just finished carrying a few of the remaining pieces of furniture to the new apartment and they were just leaving. With a small smile, Vex shut his front door and flipped the lock, then turned around and gazed at his new home. Immediately when somebody entered, they'd be greeted by the sight of a small yet comfortable and spacy living room, consisting of a big white sofa, two matching white armchairs on the sides, a TV on the opposite wall of the sofa and a medium-sized coffee table in the middle. The TV was one of those wall-mounted flatscreens, yet it wasn't large in size and wasn't too pricy. Behind the couch was more than enough space for two people to fit and be able to pass by. Over those was the small dining area with a mahogany round table, lined with four chairs of the same material but with small yet comfortable white seats. Just behind those was a big window that let a lot of light inside. In each corner beside the window stood small potted plants that were still fresh and well-kept. With a smile, Vex then turned left and opened the door into his kitchen. Nothing special, actually - the wall in front was lined with white wooden cupboards, with space left for a stove and a fridge in the end. A microwave was placed just beside the fridge but faced opposite of it. Another thing was the sink mounted in the lower cabinet, with cleaning supplies on the drainboard. A small window shone light into the kitchen, as the lamp was unlit. The cabinets held plates, bowls, glasses and cups, utencils, spices of different kinds and some food - mostly canned meat or soups and cereal, along with milk.


Closing the door, Vex turned right this time and walked into his bathroom and toilet. This room was a tad smaller than the living room because it served a few functions. As soon as anybody entered, they'd see two white cupboards, one of which has a built-in sink and a mirror mounted right over it. A small set of holders was right under the mirror and a toothbrush along with a couple of prepared razoblades hung from them. The sink was made of clear, white ceramic and shone back the light from the fluorescent lightbulb, surrounded by a small circular paper disk that spread out the light through the whole room. Turning his gaze to the right, Vex saw the small washing machine beside the cupboards. It was nothing special, really, as he was one person in a whole apartment, so it'd fit his needs for now. Right against it was a white room divider to keep the privacy of anyone on the toilet. Behind it, as Vex saw when he approached, was the ceramic toilet. Right behind it was the water tank, made with white durable plastic to match the color of the white tiles on the walls. To the right and in the end of the room was the main part of the bathroom - the shower tub combo. It was ceramic, too, and glass sliding doors made to be impossible to see through split the inside from the remainder of the room and from the sight of anybody that entered. With a smile, Vex left the bathroom and went past the couch, going into his room. A small cherry wood desk was just to the right of the door, with a computer already set on it. Small speakers were on the side, with the monitor in the center and the computer itself in one of the lower slots. A black keyboard and mouse were on the desk's top, their wires going into the back. Opposite of the desk was the bed - it was big, suited for two people to sleep in, yet only used by Vex himself. The black wood that the bed was constructed from matched with the white covers and pillows of the bed. A mahogany wooden drawer was on the right side of the bed, filled with clothing. well, that was his short tour of his own house. As he walked back into the living room, Vex picked up the newspaper he'd placed on the table and sat down on the couch, then started to look through for any jobs. "Fire Department... Doctor... Assistant... RESEARCH SUBJECT... ah, School Bodyguard." Vex spoke as he saw the job offer. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, then dialed the number of the person - a woman, Gavina Avery. "Come on..." Vex added to his last words as he waited for somebody to answer.

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The woman had ended up polishing off about half of her lunch before she touched the papers again. She hadn't really realized how completely and utterly starving she had been. Sighing with a semi-content stomach, the teacher got back to grading her students' spelling tests. So far all of them had received perfect scores, even her student who was struggling the most in class had received a perfect score.


Gavina was very happy, and as she reached the last question on the last test her phone began to ring. Glancing at the number briefly as she hurried to finish grading, the woman did not recognize the number calling her. She knew that could mean many things, but one hopeful scenario stuck out in her mind.


The school had come to her the week before and asked her to put her contact information down on a job opening for a School Bodyguard. It wasn't a big deal for the woman, and she had happily complied with the school board's request. Though, the first few interviews had gone horridly wrong. The people who were applying for the job all had their hearts in the right place, they all loved the children and wanted to protect them as well as the teachers and staff, but they were all sorrily out of shape and had no prior experience in the field of guarding others.


After realizing that the job description said nothing about requirements, Gavi went back to the school board and requested that they revise the requirements for the job. Seeing their mistake after the woman told them of the applicants and after they sat in on one of the interviews, the board apologized to her and immediately put the requirements onto the advertisement.


So now, with her students' tests all graded with perfect scores, the woman removed her glasses and picked up her cell phone on the third ring. Placing the phone to her ear, the woman spoke in a professional voice.


"Good afternoon, this is Gavina Avery speaking."

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As Vex sat on his couch, waiting for someone to answer his phone call, he took another gaze at the advertisement. Now that he read further in it, there were a couple of requirements, that he actually matched. One, was to have at least two years of guard or military service. He had four, and was one of the best in his squad and in the UKSF. Next came the other requirement - to be able to shoot a gun. He covered that too - not only was he able to shoot anything from pistols to mounted guns, but he was able to repair them and clean them - only a few guns, like bazookas or RPG's were out of his reach so he had NO idea how to use those. After those came the usual requirements for any school personnel - be helpful and friendly to children, don't attack children, be positive while working, defend children with deadly force if needed and such. Well, that was already covered for Vex - he was both willing to shoot down anybody that tried entering the school, and yet he was friendly and kind. His mind quickly flashed back to remind him how he used to take care of his sister when she was sick even if he himself would get sick or wouldn't do homework for it.


Flipping the page of the newspaper came one of the stories about the killings here in Pareidolia. It was that of the young girl that had disappeared from the same school that Ms. Avery tutored in. Then came another story for a young boy, again from the same school. That would be very painful for any teacher, even ones who didn't study with the children. Flipping back to the page as he heard the phone finally being picked up, he watched and listened. "Good afternoon, this is Gavina Avery speaking." Came the voice of the teacher through the phone speaker. With a soft breath and a calm voice, Vex spoke back. "Good afternoon, Miss Avery. This is Vex Walker. I was calling for your offer about a school bodyguard. Because I think I fit the needs that you have listed here - including military experience - I would like to ask a date for an interview." Vex spoke confidently, pulling out a pen and clicked it, ready to write down the date. Maybe it could be today in an hour, or it could be two months later if others were trying to get in, but he'd wait for the job even if it took him a long amount of time.

Edited by SkullKrusher

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"Good afternoon, Miss Avery. This is Vex Walker. I was calling for your offer about a school bodyguard. Because I think I fit the needs that you have listed here - including military experience - I would like to ask a date for an interview."


Gavi liked this guy already. It was plain when the man spoke that he was a professional and that he would probably get the job. But, to stick with protocol and legality, the female would need to schedule an interview as he had stated. "Thank you Mr. Walker, let me check my schedule real quick to see when I have an opening." the teacher placed the phone between her right shoulder and ear as she quickly pulled out her laptop to check her calender.


In reality, the woman really didn't need to check her calender, but again it was a formality that she liked to keep. Why didn't she need to check her calender? Well, she hadn't gotten a call for an interview in nearly two weeks after the revised advertisement went out. Hardly anyone in town had those kinds of credentials, and she had caught some flak from her neighbors after they saw the new requirements. "I can watch over those kids just fine without those credentials!" "You're just trying to make sure no one catches you when you go after your next victim!" and "I'm watching you Avery." were comments that the woman had put up with soon after the new advertisement.


Eventually the school board had stepped in and made a public announcement that they had re-written the requirements. That changed people's tunes, and some even apologized to the school teacher. Most, however, still glared at the woman when she was out and about.


Glancing at the clock, Gavina realized that lunch would be over pretty soon and the kids in her class would be filing into the room in about ten minutes. That left her with about two hours before school got out. 'I'll give myself about a half-hour between when the kids get out and when I'll tell him to be here, that should be enough time I guess.' the woman thought to herself.


"Mr. Walker? I can see you at the school in about two and a half hours if that suits you well?" the woman stated, once again, in a professional manner. Hopefully this man would work out, most of the school guards were just fine at their job, but a majority of them lacked proper training and would do better with a senior officer. This man might just be the one that they needed to help train the other officers.


[[OOC :: Couldn't help but point this out~ Made me laugh really hard.

Vex spoke confidently, pulling out a gun and clicked it, ready to write down the date.

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(( ... I was probably thinking about guns a lot xd.png Nice typo, me! Thanks for pointing it out. ))


"Thank you, Mr. Walker, let me check my schedule real quick to see when I have an opening." The voice of Miss Avery came through the speaker and Vex sighed in relief as he waited. He waited patiently for an answer, and halfway through his waiting he could hear some static through the phone - probably normal, though, if we were to consider all that happened in the last months in this small town. After a couple of minutes of what sounded like a computer booting up and somebody clicking a mouse around, Miss Avery finally added to her last words. "Mr. Walker? I can see you at the school in about two and a half hours if that suits you well?" She asked Vex and he nodded to himself. "Of course! I was expecting that the interview'd be days later, but if it's today then I'm fine with it. See you soon!" He said and finished the call with a sigh of relief.


"That went better than expected!" Vex said as he smiled, letting go of the pen and placing it on the newspaper. He then took both and placed both in his drawer. Well, since he had around a couple of hours, he'd go out and wander around for a couple of hours. After making sure that the heating was turned off and no dangerous electric appliances were left on, Vex finally approached the exit, taking his coat from the hangers lined on the wall and put it on. Walking out of his apartment, he then locked the door and soon was down the stairs and outside. Taking a breath of fresh air, Vex turned to the right and went down the sidewalk, then crossed the street and soon reached the pub. He entered and ordered a glass of red wine, then started drinking it slowly.


(( Drinking before going to an interview is a natural way to increase your chances to (NOT) be accepted. ))

Edited by SkullKrusher

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"O-okay." replied Logan quietly as he watched the other man go about the familiar little ritual that came with taking books back into the little 'flock' of the library. He had seen it lay out many times before, but he had to admit he was slightly impressed by the quick, deft way he did it; the usual librarian always had an angry way about her, always huffing under her breath and stamping the books with unwarranted violence that never failed to make Logan twitch in alarm. What had those poor books ever done to her? He always got the feeling that she would like her job at the library if nobody ever went in and definitely didn't touch any of the books, as if actual customers were just an annoying extra responsibility she'd taken on some time in the distant past but never actually wanted.


So caught up was he in this line of thought that, when the assistant asked him if there was anything else he could do for him, he almost jumped a mile; for a second he looked as if Logan was going to flee, though he did blush when a realised he'd probably been staring fixedly at the poor man's hands for some time now. Oh, he must think I'm so strange, he probably can't wait for me to leave... he thought, holding one wrist very tightly with the other hand so he didn't flap and rub his hands like he usually did when he was nervous. With some difficulty, he managed to swallow his nervousness and speak again. "I'd, uh, I'd just like to order a book in from, uh... From the city. If that's okay. I mean I'd hate to bother you if you're busy but..." he muttered breathlessly, before stopping abruptly when he realised he was rambling. Using any excuse not to look at the other man, he looked around as he reached into his pocket and drew out a scrap of paper with a few words written on it in a neat, cursive writing in blue biro. "It's... It's Criminal Profiling: Principles And Practices... Ah, by Richard N. Kocsis."


"Planning your next murder, are you? Seeing how you can get away with it?"


Logan jumped in shock again, wheeling around to see an older man in a green raincoat, clutching a hardback book in a white-knuckle grip; there was a look on his face as if he were standing knee-deep in cow's dung, and the look in his eyes made Logan's well up with tears of fright. "No... Please, I never hurt anyone... I just... Trying to help catch them but... I never did anything, please..." he whispering, recognising him as a friend of the family of the poor murdered girl. Oh, I'm trying to help but I'm just making it worse; of course he thinks it's me. I'm a freak. I'd think it was me, too. But how do I tell them that it wasn't me? Oh help, he's going to kill me...


"You think you're so smart, Doctor, with your city education and airs. But we all know it was you, what you did to those kids. And soon the police'll know that and you'll be banged up like you should be- if someone braver than I doesn't get you first." replied the older man scornfully, poking Logan firmly in his skinny chest. It was almost comical, the way that the supposed murderer loomed over his accuser by a head but probably weighed a good deal less; you'd think a killer would be bolder, not shivering and blinking like a frightened child.


Logan really was nearly crying now, frozen with terror and holding his bag up to his chest like a shield; everyone was staring at him now and it hurt, he could feel every gaze burning his skin. "It wasn't me, I... I... I never hurt anyone. P-please just, just leave me alone."

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((When did this get so long >_>))


The sudden movement the man made when Sid had talked made him look up in curiosity, as he drew out Tasgall's card from the drawer. First the step back when Sid had approached (though that was partly his own fault; he just liked doing that), and now he looked ready to bolt out the door; Tasgall looked like the reincarnation of a wild, paranoid rabbit. The other man had been looking at Sid's hands, and looked away while blushing when he seemed to realize it, which made Sid suspect he had been staring at them for a while now. Why, he had no clue; his hands were pretty normal.


Tasgall started speaking again, in a voice as low as the first one he used. Book ordering from the city... they had special forms for that in the first drawer. That one didn't need a key, since the forms in it had no value without his or the Madam's signatures. "Please, it's hardly a bother when it's on the job description," Sid commented, taking out one of the empty forms at the same time. He'd have added more, but the man was acting as if he wanted to get out as soon as possible, so better not hold him up more than necessary.


He had just finished writing down the title when another voice joined the conversation. Sid usually preferred to not get involved in other people's business, but that voice was so full of contained hate and anger that it surprised him enough to look.


"Planning your next murder, are you? Seeing how you can get away with it?"

Alright, so maybe an encounter with the Head Librarian wasn't why the man was so nervous after all. The one that had spoken had done so only slightly louder than normal, but in the natural quietness of the library he could as well have shouted. The way he had voiced his accusation, it was as if he had no doubt that the frightened man in front was the murderer. Sid would have been confused if Tasgall's profession hadn't been mentioned; then, he understood. He didn't know the local GP directly, but only someone deaf would be oblivious to all the rumors circulating about him, rumors that, if you asked more than half of the village, were as good as signed confessions. The most prominent of all being the one the man in the raincoat had just exposed - that he had been the one to mercilessly abduct and kill three children.


Tasgall didn't exactly look like a murderer, though. Then again, that was hardly proof of any kind. The scared man getting jabbed in the ribs by an accusing finger could very well have another side. But so did the rest of the village, which made him no more guilty or innocent in Sid's mind.


However, seeing the way Raincoat was gripping the book he was carrying - like some sort of weapon, not a fragile collection of paper - , Sid decided to get involved before the oldest one decided to throw it. If it fell on the dirty water that had been dripping from Tasgall's pants, it may ruin the book.


"Taking the matter into civilian hands would end in anything from up to three months in jail for assault to a few years if the victim gets badly injured."


Raincoat turned to look at Sid, who had talked as if he was pointing out the sky was blue, with an equally non-amused look on his face. "No one asked for your opinion, outsider." He all but spat the last word.


Sid ignored that last part. "I wasn't aware that an objective fact can count as an opinion."


"Murderers DESERVE anything going their way."

"Now that's an opinion, since it's based on a hunch and not actual proof."

"It's painfully obvious he was the one who did it."

"Then let the police do their jobs and find-"

"They're taking too damn long!"


Sid crossed his arms, his voice adopting a sarcastic edge. "Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting the beginning of your sentence with the middle of mine. I'll try to be more careful next time."


Raincoat banged his hands on the table, the sound much louder when the book he had been holding was the one that hit the furniture. "DON'T YOU DARE MAKE A-"


"Do not. Shout. In the library."

Three years working for the same person, one that had a 'No mercy' policy, while being taught to do exactly what they were doing tended to rub onto someone's personality a bit. Ms. Grimshaw had a tone that sounded like it could freeze Hell itself, and though Sid's wasn't at that level, it certainly could make one feel like the temperature of the room had dropped a few degrees. Using that tone while he stood up, hands flat on the table and eyes narrowed and looking directly into the offender's, had the desired effect of shutting Raincoat up without having to raise his voice like the other had been doing. He held Sid's gaze, refusing to be intimidated, but the sheer hostility the younger one was emanating was enough to ensure he wouldn't be interrupted next.


"I don't care if you get a megaphone and yell whatever you want on the streets as loud as you can. In fact, you're welcomed to do it. But inside, it's required that you act like the civilized adult you supposedly are and follow a very easy set of rules that you implied to know and agree to by entering the building. Now, ignoring our opinions on a matter completely unrelated to your behavior, I ask you: Sir, will you kindly refrain from making accusations that may end in violence where the public property may be damaged, or do I have to point out where the exit is?"

Edited by Puredark006

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"Of course! I was expecting that the interview'd be days later, but if it's today then I'm fine with it. See you soon!" Gavina responded in kind to the man before she hung up her phone with a content sigh. This sounded like it was going to be a good interview, hopefully at least. Gavi really hoped that this guy would be able to meet the requirements and at least be decent enough to be around the kids. The woman leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with her hands. Today was going to be a long day waiting for the classes to be over then interviewing this Vex Walker man.


'He sounded like a good person over the phone though. But then again voices can only reveal so much.' Gavina thought to herself as she heard the bell ring far off in the playground. Sighing once more, the teacher placed her glasses back on and slapped her cheeks, replacing her frown with a smile. Eyes bright and posture cheerful and happy, Miss Avery greeted her students with a smile as they walked back into the classroom and sat down at their desks, still speaking with excitement about what happened at lunch.


"Miss Avery! How did we all do on the test? Did I win!?" one of the boys yelled out as he walked into the room. That immediately started a small but fun argument among the class, causing their teacher to chuckle. "Well Jeffery, you and everyone else will just have to wait until class starts again to figure out just who won." Gavina laughed as she placed her glasses back onto her desk while tapping the graded stack of tests on her desk.


That just further allowed the class to playfully argue about who won and who lost. Gavi didn't bother to stop the fighting, it was all in good fun and she knew that they would all be happy in another minute or so.


With that the bell rang once more and she stood from her desk, glasses back before her eyes and tests in her arm. The class grew silent as she walked to the front of the classroom. Yes, this was going to be a long day, but she was going to enjoy every minute of it.


[[ Does that mean that you don't want him hired? Or just that she will have doubts at first? ]]

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(( Nah, that doesn't mean any of those. He's just enjoying a glass of wine, nothing more or else. It's just a joke, since each one of us is easily able to understand that drinking before interview is a pretty stupid idea. At least, I think that's more than clear enough. xd.png

@Ruins: Could you guys finish up so we can skip over a couple of hours (for the quick interview)? ))

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Through the librarian's argument with the raincoated man, Logan had done almost nothing but stand and shiver like a useless, terrified lump; he wanted nothing more than to bolt outside, away from the yelling and anger, then run all the way home and dive under his covers. Then perhaps he could sleep until the heat had died down and the whole horrible business was just another memory to make himself forget. But the fear inside him and the knowledge that people were staring rooted him to the spot, rendering him unable to flee, mount a defense against the slander or even move an inch.


He did move, though, when the raincoated man slammed his book against the table. In fact he jumped once again (about the forth time within the hour), looking wildly from the one man to the other as he chewed his lip furiously. Why was a stranger defending him like that? Was he being... nice, like other people were to other people? But why was he being nice, to him of all people? He was nothing but a useless freak who probably deserved everything he got; he was just a spineless doormat. Maybe his parents were right, maybe he really should have gone and- Don'tthinkaboutit. Don'tthinkaboutit. Just. Don't!


The raincoated man seemed to be retreating now, leaving his book resting on the counter he'd hit; he was was still seething, though, growling and muttering under his breath and seemingly unable to leave without one last parting shot. And another ribcage poke. "Don't relax too much, Doctor. He might be fooled but we aren't, not a single-"


"Stop it!" Something had flared inside of Logan- a forceful feeling that Enough Was Enough, a line had been crossed and he could take no more. A hot, alien feeling that both terrified and empowered him: rage. "How dare you? How dare you go about talking to people like that?! You should be ashamed of yourself! You're nothing but a big bully!"


There was a moment of silence in the library, the sense of many eyes bugging in shock; most had lived in Pareidolia all their lives without ever hearing Logan speak in a normal volume, let alone raise his voice. The sound of him shouting, let alone standing up for himself, was so alien it was like a slap in the face- or being mauled by a goldfish. Even Logan himself was frozen, as if even he couldn't believe he'd said it.


Eventually, though, motion came back to the little library. The raincoat man bustled out with some speed, leaving his book behind, as the gawpers went back to whatever they had been doing before- the entertainment was clearly over. In the corner, a group of ladies put their heads together and whispered excitedly about this new development, what they knew about Logan before and what they'd had to rethink about him now. The man himself seemed to deflate to half his size as the anger drained out of him, leaving him almost visibly exhausted as with a sore throat. He turned to the librarian, giving a grateful but slightly confused look.


"T-thank you." he said in his usual quiet voice, a little huskily this time. "B-but I don't understand... why. I'm just a unemployed biologist, I'm... I'm not anybody."


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If the silence after the taller man shouted hadn't been so completely absolute and filled with the shock of everyone present, Sid would have scolded him too for raising his voice.


For a second, he had the crazy thought that reality had been paused. Then, Raincoat just went and left, leaving the book he had been carrying behind, and motion returned with the rest of people hurriedly going back to what they were doing or grouping to whisper about what had happened. Seems it wasn't everyday the taller man lost his temper.


Sid's gaze had followed the retreating man's back, staring at the door as Raincoat opened it and slammed it behind him, making the little bell ring wildly. It had felt surreal, to have everyone silent and unmoving like that, not quite understanding the cause. It was... both funny and a bit unsettling, he decided.


The man had started talking, voice low again, like it had been before Raincoat's interruption. He sounded like he rarely received treatment from other people that didn't equal the one you'd give a recent roadkill. Sid had to be honest, though. "I didn't exactly choose a side," he said, picking up the book that had been left behind and checking it for nail marks. None, thanks goodness, or he'd have been held responsible for it with the culprit gone. "He was looking for a fight inside the building; you weren't. Therefore, he didn't have your right to stay or be treated well. As simple as that."


He sat down again, leaving the large hardcover under the other two he had brought before the talk started, to be put away at a later time. His gaze switched to the older's grey orbs, and though his tone wasn't nearly as hostile as the one he had used earlier, there was a faint trace of seriousness under the cordial facade. "However, raise your voice inside once more, and I'll have to ask you to leave too."


That said, he leaned back, instantly reverting to the amicable attitude and smile he had showed until Raincoat barged in. The half-finished form was still on the table, and so he picked up the discarded pencil, twirling it a bit with his left fingers. "Now, I'm afraid I didn't get the author's name on the book you wanted. Would you mind repeating it again?" he asked, as if the previous confrontation had never happened.

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((Since it's quite difficult for our charries to meet each other for a while, maybe Ruins can let you guys do the time-skip while we wrap this up?))

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((I'm honestly wondering if we have enough characters to make this work, let alone RPers... I mean, the whole thing rinds to a halt when I'm busy, so...))

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