And They Were Roommates (Victorian Gothic lovecraftian drama) (technically an open RP)

[DustyStar]

(If you are interested in joining, DM me!)

 

Two tired feral old men with depression and 6 PhDs now share a room in Victorian London where they try to solve various supernatural mysteries popping up in the heart of the city. 

 

 

 

Axel Widdowson looked less like a man and more like a reanimated corpse of a man in denial that he ever died. His old age only served to worsen the sentiment. Many believe perhaps he had come back to life if not solely to spite people and continue to prove them wrong. It seemed to be his favorite pastime. His time at university was often spent arguing with professors during lecture or loudly voicing his objections with another students hypothesis. This continued in his own career, seemingly dedicating himself to certain research for the singular purpose of proving others wrong. His studies were extensive, ranging from philosophy, to astronomy, even into things so bizarre as the occult and exotic languages. He held an unmatched, almost inhuman enthusiasm for research. It drove him like he would perish if he didn't learn every little thing about a subject. He had a brilliant mind for theory, hypotheticals, maths and theology. He was grounded in logic and perspective and reason. And yet he seemed so disconnected from the workings of the real world, prone to fantastical, grandiose thinking or collapsing into inconsolable pessimism and melancholy. It made him difficult to work with at times. So difficult in fact, he was asked to leave his room at the University and find someplace else in London to live. Which is fine, he had money. His own manor was too far outside London to be worthwhile, so he would have to look elsewhere to stay for now. Honestly he didn't care. He cared so little in fact he picked out the first ad for lodging he saw in the paper and was marching his way down to apply this very moment.

 

He shuffled unsteadily through the dreary London street, gripping tightly on an ornate silvery cane. In spite of the light rain he was too stubborn to have bothered to bring an umbrella. Just as well, he was covered in so many layers of coats it gave a distinct bulk to his form that felt out of place with the cadaverousness of his hands and face. No water was going to get through all of that anytime soon. His hair, which floated rather than fell about his face, waved around in the wind making it look almost like smoke drifting from his scalp. He stopped abruptly in front of an apartment door and swung around to face it. A deep grimace set in his features, Axel looked down at the newspaper in his hand, rubbing the slightly damp pages between his fingers. Dark eyes obscured by darkly tinted lenses lingered on the page, then back up to the door in front of him. A few droplets weaved their way through splintered wood and stone and fell from the narrow doorframe onto the concrete doorstep. He took a long look at the doorway, then down the street. It was lined with two parallel apartment complexes about three stories high each, coming to a fork at the end of the road a good walk away that split into more accommodations of lesser importance.  The street had only a few pedestrians along its course, obviously not a popular destination on a chill early morning in London.  His gaze returned to the door in front of him, stretching his arm out slowly he gave a brief knock. There was no response. Looking down at the paper again the man mumbled something inaudible before he reached for the doorknob and gave it a sharp turn. The door clicked open with a weary sounding groan. 

 

"Hello?"

 

He peaked his head inside through the crack, wild silvery hair catching the streams of light filtering into the dark room. The crack of light illuminated dusty floorboards and a stray lounge chair slightly too far forward in the room to be its intended location. He opened the door completely, letting the dim early morning light fill the space. It didn't do much for the drab browns and greens that the room was decorated in. The drapes were a terrible off-putting blend of red and copper leaf-like patterns. Dreadful. There was another lounge across from the first complimented by a small coffee table still covered in newspapers and a generous stack of used teacups. A few steps away from the lounge was an opening to another room and a staircase leading to the upper level. Whoever was advertising for a flatmate certainly didn't intend to impress in any regard. The man took a few slow, steady steps inside, twirling the cane between his fingers, sending echoing clicks off of the walls that resounded around the large and otherwise empty room. Not exactly intending to be cautious of disturbing anyone within, his slowness held something more of a swagger like he didn't want his shoes to kick up too much of the dust, lest it get on them. His nostrils flared as he entered. It smelled of paper, dust, moldy velvet and the pungent scent of alcohol. Something about it was weirdly familiar. He couldn't place why. He turned and took a small cough into his sleeve, nearly gagging from how bad the stench was. Muttering silent curses to himself he sauntered his way over to the opening near the staircase.

 

With his free hand still clutching the newspaper he grabbed the stair railing as he rounded the corner, looking up the drafty staircase. Pools of dust lingered in the corners of each step, clearly never having been cleaned. He huffed briefly at this before leaning over to steal a quick glance into the other room. It was dark, save for a small sliver of light being let out from the kitchen drapes making a line across the floor, crawling up and over something that seemed to be resting on a table. He squinted at it, unsure of what it was until it let out a sudden harsh snoring sound. He jumped with a start at the noise nearly losing his grip on his cane in the process. With a brief sigh he returned his sights to the object, realizing that what he had mistaken for a draft was the sound of human breathing. Swiftly he made his way over to the kitchen drapes to pull them aside just enough to cast light on the figure. A stout, pudgy man was haphazardly heaped across a pile of papers scattered across the table and floor. Two large bottles of wine sat open on the counter, a semi-full wine class precariously tipping out and away from the mans hand on the tables edge, dangerously close to falling. Another shudder ran though the figure as he heaved another snoring breath. Cautiously the other man approached, rolling up the newspaper and giving the heavier man a small nudge with it.

 

"Hello, ah, sir...?" He said tentatively, hand outstretched with the newspaper like he was poking a bear and was prepared to run at moments notice. Not that he really could with how bad his knees were these days.

 

"Aye, i...ah...saw your advert in the paper...? For a flatmate, yeah?"

 

When the man woke up with a start he flinched back into a full recoil bringing both his arms into his chest and almost cradling the newspaper. He held that way for a brief moment before a confused expression etched its way across his features then giving way to one of annoyance.

 

"OH, course its you, isn't it? I thought something smelled familiar...AGH..." He grumbled, turning away from the man on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes wound shut. He sucked a long breath in through his teeth. Oscar Perkins. An old roommate from university who shared a similar enthusiasm for research, but a personality too alike to his own for them to really get along well. They had split up some time ago after they had some differing opinions on research they were conducting in the same field and neither would back down from their stance, determined to prove the other wrong. How long had it even been since they had last spoken? He couldn't even remember. 

 

Still turned away, he tilted his head slightly in the direction of the other man, listening to his sloppy, uncoordinated movements. In the years they did live together Axel could remember Oscar coming to lecture with that distinct smell of wine and crisp paper lingering on him. He hadn't seen Oscar drink anywhere near him during that time, and seeing him this way now was just sad really. Pathetic, even. Nonetheless, a certain sense of pity welled up inside of him, and he let it out with a frustrated sigh. 

 

"Oscar, mate, how many fingers am i holding up?" He whipped around with his hand outstretched, clearly holding three fingers visible.  He looked at Oscar like he would a student who hadn't been paying attention in class, waiting with a look of disdain as they gave their inevitably ill-informed reply. The rest of him leaned into the cane, fingers tapping impatiently on its silvery steel tip while he awaited the drunken mans answer.

Edited October 15, 2023 by DustyStar
adding in some more detail

[Lycanious]

There were no stars out tonight. Even the moon was obscured by a dark fog, leaving behind little more than the dull, flickering glow of the occasional lamp-post as he passed on by. A light drizzle of rain accompanied him as he shuffled down the street, occupied mostly with trying to make it home before the proper storm set in.

 

Something made him pause. He wasn’t sure what exactly, only that it had prompted an unpleasant, prickling sensation at the back of his neck as he did-so. He tensed in his stance, turning on his heel to survey the area surrounding him. It was well-lit, considering how late at night it was, leaving little in the way of shadowy corners for someone unsavoury to be lurking behind. And yet, something made him reluctant to step any further towards his destination.
 

His grip tightened on the cane in his hand. It was an ancient, but sturdy thing, borrowed from an old acquaintance of his. He tapped it rhythmically on the cobblestone beneath him a few times, sending tiny ripples through the puddle before him as he glanced down. Something had caught his eye, the glint of a crescent-shaped reflection of the moon along its surface.

 

He frowned, and glanced skyward once more, confirming indeed that there was no indication of said moon above him.

 

So instead he leaned forward, peering into the strange, ink-like surface of the water to try to figure out what lay within it. He watched as the reflection warped with the movement of the ripples from his cane, the crescent oscillating and flickering until it had formed a halo shape with a small pinprick of light in its centre.

 

He blinked again.
 

The bead of light swivelled to focus on him, then did the same.
 

A sudden, unbearable, urge to interact with it flared up in him. He staggered forward, shaking hands outstretched towards the twitching eye staring directly back at him-
 

---
 

Oscar jolted awake as he felt something prod into his ribcage, scattering several papers across his desk and onto the ground surrounding him. Bewildered by the sudden change in scenery his breathing hitched, trying to make sense of the dim-lit blur of his surroundings and the, eventual, notice of a hazy silhouette of a figure standing before him.

 

The portly man flailed in a sluggish, clumsy manner as his attempts to distance himself from the sudden intruder were impeded by thumping into the back of his chair. He hissed as this movement sent a pulsating sensation of pain through his skull, one hand gripping tightly at his temple while the other scrambled frantically and blindly for, presumably, a nearby weapon for which to defend himself.

 

It was in this disorientated search, however, did the voice of the figure before him slowly start to register as something familiar to Oscar’s ears. His movements slowed once more, hand relaxing just as it brushed over the hilt of an ornate letter-opener. Fingers tapped a few times at its silver edge, contemplative, and vaguely threatening, before ever so slightly he pushed the object away from him and decided to properly address the man before him.

 

“What? What is it?” Oscar grumbled, now leaning forward to rest his head back down on the desk with a groan. It muffled the rest of his words, though considering his tendency towards a rather liberal use of profanity while nursing one of his self-inflicted headaches this was perhaps for the best. “Bloody unbelievable…doesn’t even…crazy old fool....”

 

Eventually, his head rolled to the side to regard Axel once more. Once-silver eyes, now bloodshot and framed by heavy, grey bags below, gazed up at him with a distinctive air of annoyance as he sensed the hand waving about before him.

 

“I don’t have my spectacles.” Announced Oscar with a sniff of derision. Again his hand shifted, brushing along the mess of papers and the mahogany surface of his desk a few times before, gradually, he moved it to his own head and felt about for said glasses. Sure enough, lost among the short, dark curls of hair he found the metal frame of his spectacles and prodded them down onto the bridge of his nose before turning once more to look properly at Axel’s hand still outstretched and waiting for him.

 

“…Three.” He concluded.

 

It was admittedly by guess. Even with his glasses, his intoxication from the dismal night before made it difficult for his eyes to properly focus right now. Oscar, however, had grown rather accustomed to navigating his mornings in this manner, and would often hide behind the excuse that he was overdue for a change in his prescription anyway.

 

Oscar then lifted his own hand. “How many am I holding up?” Retorted the man, as he made an obscene gesture in Axel’s direction. He then went back to cradling his head in his hands, inhaling deeply and then slowly exhaling, as he tried to push through the ache that still throbbed through his skull and continue the conversation.

 

“You do realise I specified a time in the advertisement for visitors, do you not…?” Mumbled Oscar, now peering back up at Axel through the gaps in his fingers. “And it’s…” He trailed off, gaze shifting towards the sliver of light peering in from the curtains. When he spoke again his voice took on a more solemn tinge of emotion, as he realised that it was, indeed, already the morning he’d specified.

 

“...Well. Hmph. Anyway. I distinctly remembering advising that I wasn’t looking to share my abode with a maniacal old crackpot this time around,” Continued Oscar, trying to brush off the clear realisation that he’d, again, lost track of what day in the week it was. “So I’m not sure you need bother with applying.”

Edited October 11, 2023 by Lycanious

[DustyStar]

The furrow of annoyance in Axels brow raised into one of dull surprise when Oscar announced the correct amount of fingers he held before him. He let out a short hum in reply, suspicious but still satisfied nonetheless with his answer. He returned his hand to a high place on his waist, leaning further into the cane until he teetered almost alarmingly far to the left somehow managing to stay upright. ''Didn't think you had it in you.'' He mumbled more to himself than to Oscar, examining the floor in front of him like it held the contents of the daily paper. 

 

He let out a harsh snort at Oscars clever retort, looking him back up and down with a glare and a dramatic eye roll. ''Always so immature...'' he grumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand in Oscars direction. 

 

Axel started to wander about the dining area, staring at the mess of dishes about the counters and the half open cabinets with their contents haphazardly shoved inside. He stared at them, his free hand resting on his lower back, fingers drumming on the top of his cane while he surveyed the scene. He shook his head with a small tsk. He really didn't think his old colleague had it in him to let himself go this far. From the corner of the kitchen he turned back to look at Oscar. The cool blue light of the morning framed him in a way that looked like some depressing portrait from a Francisco Goya collection. The dark background. The way he held his face in his palms. The wine bottles catching the sunlight. The paper reflecting the light so saturated against the bluish grey of his suit vest and trousers that struggled to stretch all the way around his form. It was bizarre, really. Felt more like a painting than the man he knew before. 

 

''What, you think i can't read the paper?'' He sharply turned all the way around to face him, head tilted upwards, staring down at Oscar with a look of disdain. ''7am. Right there in black and white. If you really didn't want visitors so early you should've advertised this place as an evening pub perhaps. Nice place by the way. Can really tell you meant to impress with all the dust and rubbish everywhere.'' Tone dripping with sarcasm he made a sweeping motion with his hand around the space in mocking wonderment.

 

His face fell back into a grimace as Oscar dismissed him. ''Guess that's that then.'' he said flatly with an edge of indignation. He readjusted his coat with a huff and begun marching his way out of the kitchen into the common room. ''Wouldn't want to room with an imp who can't even tell the difference between a genuine Rembrandt portrait and a cheap imitation that wasn't even painted in the same time period.'' Towards the end of his sentence he turned around in the middle of the common room and all but shouted it in the other mans direction as he made his way to the front door.

Edited October 11, 2023 by DustyStar

[Lycanious]

Something nonsensical, yet dripping with ire was mumbled when Axel first responded. Oscar however seemed to be directing it more towards himself at this point, it’s self critical nature perhaps more evident when he shook his head and gestured to himself as part of it.

 

For a moment Axel was ignored. Oscar seemed more intent, or perhaps only capable of, continuing to let his head rest in his hands as instead his ears trained themselves on the movements of the wiry individual through the accumulating mess of his abode. A sharp inhale, annoyed, escaped him as he caught the faint yet familiar tap-tap-tap of his visitor’s fingers against the top of his cane. Judgement, he thought to himself with a huff of air. Disdain. Arrogance.

 

It prompted him to eventually swivel in his chair and catch Axel’s gaze with the corner of his own, challenging his sneer of derision with a defiant scowl. “Oh, please. A man’s entitled to the occasional lapse in consciousness after a long night of…hic studying, is he not?” Questioned Oscar, retrieving one the nearest book from his desk and waving it about in the air as if, somehow, this was definitive proof that this was indeed what he’d been up to the entire night before.

 

He then promptly thumped it down onto the desk to create a dramatic burst of sound as Axel started to lecture him for both his surroundings and, clearly, superior taste in artistry that the man simply would never be privy to. “Can’t even- listen here you bitter old loon, I never said it was a Rembrandt I said it was reminiscent of Rembrandt in my final paper! Maybe if someone kept his nose out of my draft notes he’d know that!”

 

With great struggle Oscar then heaved himself out of the chair and pressed his weight against the edge of his desk, wheezing for breath for a moment as he waited for the thumping in his brain to subside enough to continue with coherent speech. Groggily he shuffled aside more papers, eventually withdrawing a heavy, sturdy-looking cane of mahogany from the mess before setting it down beside him. Oscar then pressed his weight against the cane and began to hobble after Axel with a glare, revealing that he’d also acquired a significant limp since they last met. 

 

“I don’t know why you even showed up here,” He began, a pudgy finger pointing with accusation up at Axel’s gaunt and pale face. “Just to mock me? Just to have a little chortle at the down-trodden before you waltz back up to your countryside manor? Did you catch wind of some quaint little predicament your old colleague got himself into and just had to come and see-“

 

With a guttural noise, he held his free hand to his mouth and abruptly cut himself off from the rant that had been brewing inside of him. Oscar swayed on the spot, pressing more of his weight into the cane at his side, then slowly teetered the other way to thump his shoulder against the wall he stood beside for support.

 

“Oh, forget it.” He slurred, now beginning a slow descent to the floor as he began to slide down the wall that he’d pressed up again. Anger was quickly replaced with misery in his expression, culminating in a slight wince as he finally found himself slumped onto the floor. A deep sigh issued from Oscar. He tilted his head, closing his eyes as he slouched further to the side and let his temple thud against the wall. “Just leave me to my wallowing. If you’ve come to claim an old debt or something then just take the damn portrait over there.” He slurred, waving the cane momentarily in the direction of said picture hung upon his wall.

 

Said portrait, on closer inspection, was of a fair-headed lady who regarded her unseen audience with a small, refined smile. Violette Dior, read the small plaque attached to it. It was intricately painted, and judging from the fact it had neither a scratch nor mark upon its canvas it was one of the few things in the flat that Oscar was still striving to keep in good condition despite his sudden insistence on parting with it.

 

“Or is something like the frame too unrefined for your exquisite tastes to even take, Lord Widowson?”

Edited October 11, 2023 by Lycanious

[DustyStar]

When Oscar thumped the book down onto the table Axel leapt into the air with a start as if he had heard a terrible gunshot.  His face twisted in pain as he brought his free hand up to his ear, trying to quiet the ringing in his skull. He shook his head back and forth slightly with a hiss as a visible shudder ran through him. If there was anything in the world that could disturb Axel's composure in an instant sudden loud sounds would be the worst of the culprits. His senses were so finely attuned to his surroundings that even a small mouse scuttling about sounded like nails on a blackboard for him.

 

 

Before he made his way out the door a firm, bony hand gripped onto the doorframe. He hesitated. Why he hesitated he didn't even know. Why stay? Him and Oscar never did really get along. Maybe it was that he didn't have any other options in mind. He didn't actually read the rest of the ads on the paper, just went for the first thing he saw. Or maybe it was the faint sense of comfort in seeing a familiar face. Either way he lingered, hanging off the doorframe leaning over his cane, before the approaching voice of Oscar caused him to turn.

 

Immediately he noticed Oscar had a limp, and was walking with a cane quite similar to his own. Curious. Axel frowned, wondering what could have happened to his colleague since they last met. He knew Oscar wasn't one to go out much and explore or do any activities that would require him to do anything more than a brisk walk. Had he been attacked?

 

"Maybe i did. You know, just to get one last good laugh in before everything falls to pieces around me." He spat back at Oscar. "Because honestly who better than Oscar Perkins to-" 

 

When Oscar began to heave into his sleeve Axel flinched away from the doorframe like it was suddenly made of white-hot steel, the harsh noise sending a slight pang of pain through his ears. When he saw the other man begin to collapse he reached out for him to catch his fall, but only briefly, before recoiling and drawing his hand back to rest on his coats lapel instead. Stern, icy eyes watched Oscar slide to the floor into a heap. Axel's gaze softened slightly. Not that it could be noticed under his dark lenses. He wanted to reach out to Oscar. To slap some sense into him. To take him by the shoulders and tell him to pull himself together. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he just watched. Silently listening as Oscar rambled on about his miseries.

 

Axel followed Oscars gesture to the painting on the far wall. Something seemed oddly familiar about the maidens face. His brow knit together with thought as he scrambled through his mind trying to place where exactly he had seen her before. All of a sudden it struck him.

 

"Isn't that your fiancé?" He asked, squinting at the painting then back at Oscar, "Where is she by the way? Ditched you because she realized she could never compare to your true lover Pinot Noir?"

 

He snickered at the comment before the thought occurred to him. If she was here he would have heard her upstairs or elsewhere. And besides that fact, he didn't know Violette well, but he knew she kept things clean. She couldn't handle dust or clutter. Allergies or whatever it was plagued her otherwise. Even if she was just gone for a short time, she would not be able to survive with the amount of dust that had accumulated in this house. Knowing her condition he couldn't imagine Oscar would let it get so bad. Maybe she really had left him? 

Edited October 13, 2023 by DustyStar

[Lycanious]

When questioned on the identity of the person in the portrait, Oscar’s head twitched against the wall in a manner that suggested he was attempting to nod in agreement. As Axel continued further though, drawing attention to Oscar’s favourite choice of beverage, his sour expression grew more distant.

 

“No…no I…stopped for a while. Started again after she went missing.” Oscar mumbled, eyes glazing for just a breath of a moment before he managed to force the mournful tone of his voice back to something that sounded slightly less like the whispers of a broken man. Slightly his head lifted from where it was resting and his gaze traced across the room. Shoulders sagged, as if only just now Oscar was lucid enough to recognise how terribly he’d let his surroundings crumble around him in recent weeks.

 

Once again his eyes clenched shut. “...Awful. I’ve let things get awful again, haven’t I?” Asked Oscar, as a blend of grief and guilt over this revelation churned through his thoughts. Opening a singular eye, half-heartedly he rose the hand holding the cane once more and prodded at one of the bottles that had been discarded on the floor. Listlessly he watched it roll across the floor and grunted in empty celebration when it came to rest beside the spot he and Violetta usually reserved for rubbish they would later dispose of. Briefly he searched around for another nearby bottle in his half-hearted attempt to try to tidy the place up a little, before deciding that the task would be far too momentous and dropping the cane beside him instead.

 

He made sure to do it more gently than when he’d slammed down the book, though. He’d forgotten how sensitive Axel’s hearing was.

 

Oscar’s attention drifted back towards the painting. Quietly he recited an apology under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was aiming it at Violetta’s portrait or Axel at his point. Both, perhaps. “Please, I need you to take it with you as you go.” He eventually reiterated. “All it does right now is remind me of her. And then I go back to the drink to forget her once more.”

 

With audible effort he shifted his position and slid further down the wall. Oscar was now basically lying with his back flat against the ground. Not that he cared all that much right now. At least it seemed to be helping dull the throbbing ache in his head a little.

 

“Why did you come here Axel…?” He asked again, albeit this time lacking the bite he’d spat the question out with earlier on. Now he mostly just wanted answers, however frivolous or insulting, in the hopes they would help distract him from his current woes for a few, merciful moments. 

 

“Last I heard you were haunting your family manor back home, burning in the light of the sun and turning visiting salesmen into toads.” Oscar continued, corner of his mouth twitching upwards in what may have, in a better mood, morphed into a smirk over the usual collection of odd tales he’d heard of Axel before. As of now though it probably just looked like Oscar was trying to bite the inside of his cheek.

 

“If you’ve truly come to get one last laugh then, fine. Have a good little chortle then leave. I can’t imagine a man of your standing would ever need to answer such an advertisement in the papers anyway.”

Edited October 13, 2023 by Lycanious
Fixing some dialogue

[DustyStar]

"Missing?" he mumbled, a flicker of genuine shock rising in his voice as he turned to Oscar with a look of surprise. "Any idea what happened to her?" 

 

He glanced back at the woman depicted in the portrait. Memories drifted through his mind of dinner parties with light banter between the three of them, him and Violette reminiscing about the French countryside, of impressive discussions on master artists and their techniques. Her intelligence and breadth of knowledge was quite impressive for a woman of her time. The idea of something happening to her seemed incredulous to him. He'll admit he never liked her and Oscars relationship. He found it stiff, suffocating. She drew Oscar away from important research and worst of all Oscar seemed far less interested in him after meeting her. But she wasn't an unpleasant person to be around. He had almost enjoyed her company at times. Before he even realized it he had ambled his way over to the portrait itself, eyes flicking over its surface, scrutinizing every detail of the portrait.

 

"Who painted this, by the way? I don't recognize the style. Has a sort of...impressionistic quality to it. Like it was done in a hurry, yet captures quite a lot of detail," He brought a hand up to stroke his narrow chin, "Someone local perhaps?"

 

Axel startled at the sound of a bottle rolling across the floor, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. He watched it slowly make it's way to a spot near the door before taking a sharp turn that killed its momentum. He traced the bottles path back to the man slumped against the wall, slowly sliding until he finally just lay helplessly on the floor. He let out a small huff, somewhere between being impressed that a man could be this pathetic and uneasily sympathetic all the same. Axel had nearly had enough of this man and his misery before the question of why he was here, asked more genuinely this time, brought him back to the reality at hand.

 

"Mh. You wouldn't be entirely wrong. The manor is...cursed. In a manner of speaking. I can't live there anymore." He said with a sniff, knitting his hands behind his back and finding a particularly interesting spot on the ceiling to admire while he spoke.

 

"The University has...temporarily suspended my stay on campus while they rework some curriculum and funding for my research." He began, dipping his head and clearing his throat a bit at the mention of the university's recent actions against him.  "The manor is a bit too far to make travel back and forth ultimately worth it, and to be completely honest, has absolutely terrified me the past few stays." His gaze seemed to shift to something off in the far distance, his usual presence fading away slightly as he seemed lost in a memory.

 

"I don't know what's wrong exactly, I'm just...gripped with a terrible fear at the sight of the building. When i enter inside it all looks as pristine as it was, but i can't stop hearing the sound of-" His speech grew in rate and intensity before he doubled over with an agonized wail, gripping the sides of his head in his hands. His breathing quickened as his thoughts spiraled, the terrible sound of clawing and scraping and splintering wood filling his mind before suddenly giving way to silence. He held himself that way for a moment. Before he could feel his breath in his lungs once more, slowly returning to their usual pattern of steady inhales and exhales. He blinked his eyes a few times waiting for his vision to clear. The room with the heavily intoxicated man melted back into view as he returned to reality. He straightened himself back upright, brushing off his coat a few times to collect himself.

 

"Ah...well, anyway. For the time being i am in need of room and board. By some dumb stroke of luck that had lead me straight to you." He stuck his cane out at Oscar, punctuating his sentence with the motion.

 

"But knowing our past grievances i don't see why we should even entertain the thought. You're right, I should just have my laugh and be on my way." In spite of his words he didn't make any motion to leave, instead eyeing Oscar out of the side of his spectacles, waiting to see what the other man would have to say on the matter.

[Lycanious]

“She left one morning, with a friend of hers. Nothing out of the ordinary. Said they were going to go for a stroll about the park for a while and she’d be back well before sundown.” Began Oscar, once he’d had a moment to take a few deep breaths and try to better collect his thoughts. “She was with Lady Camilla Corbeld. She’s been missing too.” His jaw clenched tight. “I’d almost gone with them, only I was feeling poorly that week. Last thing she said to me was she’d see if she could fetch me a tonic or two for when she returned.”

 

Oscar paused once more, holding a moment of silence for the both of them. He then sniffed away the stinging in nose and eyes and pretended he was suddenly very interested in rolling over and inspecting the wall he’d been crumbled up against. 

 

“As for what happened to her…No. I don’t know. Not yet.” He mumbled. Momentarily his mind drifted back towards the layout of the room he was in, focusing intensely on the memory of the easel he’d set up in the corner and the old, tattered blanket he’d hastily thrown over it. Last he’d checked, beneath said blanket was little more than a blank canvas ready to be used. Nonetheless he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of it sitting there and waiting for him. Even with all of his oil paints gathered up and locked away in the nearby cupboard, he knew it was only a matter of time before he found himself hovering over it with a paintbrush in hand once more. He'd have his answer then, perhaps. “Just been…waiting around…I suppose. Little else I can do at this point. All they'll really let me do.”

 

He let the conversation drift towards Axel’s reasoning for coming here after that. He was far from the right state of mind to be forwarding any more information he may or may not have gathered on the matter right now, and lecturing Axel on basic social sensibilities was an emotion he was much more willing to entertain. “Cursed? What do you mean cursed?” Oscar’s head rolled to the side, observing Axel as he debated whether or not to show amusement at the statement or genuine concern over this claim. He found it rather odd for the man to even claim such a thing, considering how diligent he remembered Axel being in trying to disprove that such a phenomena was possible. Though, granted, Axel had always been an odd one, in more ways than one. Oscar remembered being rather surprised to find out he intended to be a man of science of all things when they had made their first introductions. He’d always thought Axel looked more like some sort of bizarre manifestation from the haunted visions of one of his fellow poets and painters, and that said scientists should be studying him instead.

 

He listened on further, as best he could, as Axel began to elaborate on why he was standing here before Oscar. This time a huff of amusement did manage to escape him when the university was mentioned. “A ’temporary suspension’, was it? What did you do? Argue one too many times with the professor again?” Oscar didn’t get much time to sigh and shake his head at the thought of it though. Just as he’d started to list out other possible reasons why Axel had been essentially booted from the campus grounds an unearthly howl from the man abruptly interrupted him. Oscar flinched away from the sound and scrambled up partially against the wall once more in alarm, a sharp burst of profanity peppering the air as the back of his head thumped against it. Now more alert, his silver eyes darted about the place a few times as he scrambled once more for his cane for which to defend himself against whatever it was that Axel had seen. 

 

Eventually, with a huff, he realised that there was nothing but two rather bitter, rather tired old men in the room flinging little more than snide comments at each other as usual. Somewhere in his haze of consciousness, Oscar drew a deep sigh and settled on something that almost felt akin to sympathy for his old acquaintance. Shame, he thought to himself. I was hoping he’d have driven off the phantoms since I last saw him.

 

“That…seemed like an intense one.” Oscar observed, corner of his mouth twitching yet again. He angled his chin upwards slightly as Axel seemed to calm once more, and made mention yet again of how he should leave despite taking no further steps out the door. “...Sit. If you can find a chair to clear.” Suggested the man as he gradually pulled himself up into a slightly more dignified sitting position for himself. “You don’t seem to want to go right away, after all.”

 

He then leaned back, resting his shoulders against slightly faded wallpaper. A resigned expression took over him, as he surveyed the room once more. “...I don’t think I’m going to get much interest from any other visitors from this, am I?”

Edited October 14, 2023 by Lycanious

[DustyStar]

Axel hummed in thought as Oscar explained what his fiancé had been doing prior to her disappearance. "Any idea where she was last seen?" He asked. He might not have liked her and Oscars relationship that much, but the mystery clawed through his mind like rats through walls. Something about it put an uneasy feeling in his gut, and he knew the authorities would be little help on the matter. He would get to the bottom of this himself if he had to, if only to put his own spinning mind at ease.

 

"While i hate to use such mystical terms, little else describes my perceptions of the matter. Despite having lived there my whole life, now when i lay my sights on the building a sense of insufferable gloom pervades my spirit. I am overcome by such an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation other than perhaps the delirium one has after a night of heavy drinking or coming out of a feverish haze. Such is why i say cursed. I have no organic explanation for why i would feel this way towards the estate so suddenly, or why it has such an overpowering effect on me." He paced around in a small circle as he continued his explanation. "Thus i refuse to return to preserve whatever shred of sanity i still have in this frail body of mine."

 

Stopping mid step Axel eyed Oscar with mild annoyance at his little comment on his argumentative tendencies. "The University will let me back in due time. They simply insisted i take a break from academics to clear my mind and reorient my focus." He said this more to himself than to Oscar, giving an affirmative nod to his statement as though it would make it irrefutably true.

 

"Yes, these...phantasmic episodes have become increasingly frequent since i last visited my estate. I am unsure as to why, or how to stop them." He said with a weary exhale. His gaze fell to his feet. He debated whether to tell Oscar that the frequency of the attacks was the driving force behind why the University had let him go. But perhaps his colleague already knew. He did always have a way of knowing strange things no one else could know. Or maybe that was just his own anxieties talking. Its hard to ignore the pervasive sense that everybody knows what's wrong with you and that's why they don't talk to you anymore. 

 

His thoughts were broken by an invitation to find a seat. He looked over at Oscar, holding his gaze for a time, silently looking for anything that would suggest Oscar was being insincere or just entertaining him, but found nothing. That was always one of Oscars greatest strengths and faults: he was painfully authentic. Still, Axel hesitated for a moment, only choosing to approach the lounge chair that was awkwardly close to the front door after the man had acknowledged that few others would be interested in his listing. 

 

"With the condition of this house i'd say the only person who would find interest in this building is a health inspector." 

 

Holding the arm rest of the chair he slowly lowered himself into it, sitting down close to the edge putting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together in front of him around the cane he held. "So?" he started, "back together again, just like old times?" he chuckled. An incredulous, almost bitter chuckle. He shook his head with a coy expression of disbelief. "Never thought it would happen, but here we are. Oh, how the universe is so cruel."

[Lycanious]

Oscar found himself nodding along slowly as Axel paced the room and began to recount his troubles with the family estate, his brow creasing upwards as he struggled to absorb the bulk of it. The man’s habitual rambling could be difficult to follow sometimes, especially when Oscar’s mind was currently struggling to process a few slowly-spoken syllables at a time. He blinked a few times in a dazed manner once the monologue had seemingly come to a close.

 

Eventually, he responded. “...Well, then. Fair enough.” He concluded, not able to offer any sort of rational conclusion from his description of the house either. Well, he had one hypothesis of course, and that was that Axel was continuing a slow but inevitable descent from odd eccentric to raving madman that Oscar had been predicting for years. But he also knew better than to suggest such a thing to Axel directly, especially when it was becoming increasingly obvious to Oscar that the man had been suffering as of late.

 

It was a realisation that made him decide to finally ease up on his budding ire in favour of relaxing his shoulders in kind as Axel found a seat. “Sounds like it would be best for you to get out of the house for a while then, yes. At least to see if it reduces the visions once more.” Agreed Oscar, allowing a pang of sympathy for the man to pepper his expression as he spoke. “I don’t think all this lonely isolation of yours is good for the mind anyway. You could spend some nights socialising with people instead of pigeons and potted plants. Find yourself another friend or…ahem………research associate to distract one’s self with.”

 

For a brief second silver eyes darted aside, awkward, and then with a dramatic clearing of his throat he continued. “A-anyway. Right. Back to the business at hand…” Again he tried to use his cane to roll another discarded bottle to a spot alongside the first one, though this one instead ended up taking an unwanted detour and came to rest at the tip of Axel’s boot. “I’ll admit, I thought I had an extra day to sort this all out…” Sighed Oscar, as tired eyes observed the shambles of his surroundings once more. It wasn’t exactly an impossible task to straighten up the place once more, but deep down he knew he was fooling himself on the thought that he’d be able to address all the disorder within a day. Maybe with Axel’s assistance he could whittle it down to a day or two. Which still felt overwhelming in his current state, granted, but not to the point where it was driving him to immediately pick up another one of the bottles and make it a problem for the Oscar of tomorrow to deal with instead. “I suppose if I could gather up all the bottles before anyone else arrives and get them somewhere more discreet…”

 

Did he want anyone else to arrive, at this point? He recalled it being a relatively open invitation from sunrise to sunset for the day, so it was possible he would have visitors later in the day, but at this point he wondered if all that would be gained from any of them was his old reputation for being the local lush of the area.

 

 He huffed at this thought, not voicing it, but then regarding Axel once more with a grimace that could be described as bittersweet. “Or perhaps it would be easier just to offer you a room, then apologise and tell them I’m feeling too poorly for a tour today.” An eyebrow rose as he gave it further consideration. “...I’ll even consider letting you move into the study, if you can help me clear all this up. It’s the quietest room in the house."

Edited October 15, 2023 by Lycanious