Fred noticed that people had gone through the door to some room. He might as well see if there was anything there. He slowly walked up to the door, put his hand through first and then his whole body. It was like going into the water, but you couldn't feel anything. He noticed some people were looking around the room. He looked around as well.
Cassidy looked at the boy named Carter, relieved to have someone acknowledge her. "Worth an attempt." She tried her best to keep her voice from quavering.
Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
Due to budget cuts, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Petrus hummed at Brittany's failed attempt to pick up the cup of tea, sharing in her disappointment. When he glanced back, he saw Fred had entered the room with them.
"Looks like a billiard room," Petrus said. "But nothing of note aside from tea that's going cold."
"Same here." Fred agreed to the coffee comment. Tea was a little boring, and you couldn't make it into a really cool drink or anything.
He glanced around at the bookshelf. There were a bunch of dusty books that were mostly classic or old. He tried to feel around in case there was a secret entrance that activated when a button was pressed, but he forgot that he was still a ghost and his hand simply went through.
"Fascinating! A maze that looks like a house. Does this look familiar to anyone? Are we helping anyone move through trauma?" Sibyl roamed around the billiard room, eyes wide and expectant.
They/he
“the wist i knew would never allow a straight boy in their stories” ~Omni “Hi Omni can I request wist get the role mom friend :]" ~winter “ah yes, fear Wist's smile :) <- speaks of layers and layers of secrets” ~mint
Petrus wandered over to the billiards table, leaning down to look underneath it. Honestly, there was no real reason apart from a bored, anxious curiosity.
He wasn't expecting to actually find something.
He froze for a moment as he stared up at a singular phrase written in black pitch on the wooden underside of the table. It wasn't a signature, or some kind of brand for the table itself. This had clearly been written in some kind of tar with someone's fingers.
Or at least, it looked like it had been written with someone's fingers.
𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹
Petrus hummed.
That was... a bit stereotypical, actually, of a horror movie. Though, it would make more sense if this was a situation where they were all alive if this was a horror movie. Then, they'd be people stuck in a house waiting to get killed off in various gruesome, creative manners.
This, though? They weren't in their bodies. They were spirits, right? So how were they even being watched?
"Uh, guys," he spoke up. "Someone wrote a message here."
Britney walked over by Petrus' side and leaned down to look under the table. She traced the letters with her finger even though she couldn't physically touch them.
"You are being watched," she read aloud for the others. "How intimidating," she added dryly. "Lucky for whoever wrote this that you found the message underside the table, Petrus."
She stood up. "The question now is, did they write this specifically for us or not?"
There is always something left to love. - One Hundred Years of Solitude
“It seems like it,” Fred said, “I mean, we were put here without any instructions or guidance so I’m guessing this would be for us. It’s the only logical answer.”
Fred looked around where the message was written. If this really was a horror movie or something, there would be a secret clue or a code. But he didn’t find anything.
Now I realize that there is no righteous path, it’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it is far too easy to do your worst. — Castiel
