To be honest. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Just tell me if you want more, or not, and I'll oblige. I... I kinda just had this in my head for a bit. And I couldn't get it out, so I wrote it. Then, I, for some odd reason, uploaded it to FF...
So... Yeah. Uh, enjoy, I guess?
"Rose," he says, just a soft whisper in your ear that sends shivers up your spine, "are you sure it's in here?"
The large mansion before you definitely doesn't scream "Welcome!" You want to analyze it terribly, to the point where it is an itch off your skin, that, no matter how hard you scratch it, won't go away. But with John by your side, he'd probably complain.
"That's the information I received from the Gods of the Furthest Ring." You say, but there's a hint of doubt in your tone that you just know John caught, because his gaze turns from one of confusion to fear. All you want to do is calm him down, say it'll be alright. But you and he both know that this wasn't going to be easy.
Still, he pulls himself together and puts on a face of bravado. He's easy to see through; you could read him like a book, for his sake, you hold your sharp tongue.
But that's him: he can show his emotions clearly, and you can't.
"And... you're sure Dave and Jade can't come with us?" John bites his bottom lip, a habit you've caught more than once.
You wish they were here.
"It would be best if they didn't. They'd be of better use out here." To be quite honest, you're not sure what it is they'd be doing out here, but you just feel that it'd be better if they lost their Hero of Light and Breath, instead of Space and Time. As much as you hated to put a price tag on everyone's heads, the Heroes of Space and Time were much more important than the others in everyone's game. After all, if they screwed up to the point where it was unfixable, Dave could go back in time to fix it.
Being a little bit braver, you take a few steps forward and feel the cool railing of the steps that ascend into the house. They feel shivering cold, but you continue up the wooden planks that creak under your steps. Supposedly, the Horrorterrors, wanting to establish a diplomatic relationship, were requiring a "favor" that they needed. The only information they were given was to break into this mansion and look for a certain Orb. How you were to identify said Orb, you had no idea. However, it was supposed to radiate a huge source of energy. Hopefully, that wouldn't be too difficult to spot.
"I don't have a good feeling about this..." You hear him say, awkwardly grabbing your wrist lightly. You turn around to see his blue eyes filled in not only fear, but worry. Worry for you, you can tell.
"I know." You help guide him up the steps, so that you're side-by-side. His hand shivers in yours, so you squeeze to comfort him. It was so simple: Get in, grab the Orb, get out.
Of course, things are never that simple, are they?
There's a moment of silence as the both of you stand before the front door, which is mammoth. Standing over ten feet tall and five feet wide, it seems almost impossible to open.
"Think anybody lives here?" John says as he scans the walls, searching for a doorbell. The door is large and stone, so it would probably break your hand were you to knock.
"It looks to... abandoned." You say, still gazing in awe at its size. Finally, you decide to try and open it.
Nothing. It's locked, go figure. That wasn't really a surprise.
"Oh well. No one's home, let's just get back to-," John says rather quickly, but you silence him with a finger to his lips. He sighs deeply, realizing what you're thinking.
"We'll make our own entrance." A small, sly smile curves on your lips, and you look up for a window. Slowly, you feel yourself lifting off the ground, and you can tell John is following close behind by the wind blowing in your hair. "Stand back." You ask him and kick the window, shattering the glass and making you recoil. When you're sure it's passed, you lower your hands that you had put up in defense and climb through. You turn around, and John just floats there, undecided.
"John..." You whisper, trying to coax him in. When he doesn't respond, you drag him in, lightly, through the broken window.
You finally touch the red velvet carpet, and you realize the inside of the mansion is much, much cleaner than the outside. Granted, the eerie vibe still lingers in the air, but at least it has the decency to appear in the form of nice and clean.
"That's kinda... odd." John scratches the back of his head. "Must have a good landlord."
"Or lady."
"Or lady." John repeats with a grunt, and you chuckle to yourself. You start down the hallways, trying all the doors. None of them budge.
You turn back and say, "They're all locked. I'll try to find a key to-"
Crash!
"Or... you could just do the windy thing." John gives you an uneasy smile, and the two of you enter the small room. It looks like a guest bedroom, with empty drawers and a closet, and a nice velvet green bed. Except there's a note on the bed.
"What's it say?" John asks you as you read over the note out loud.
"4/6/05... Today, I went out and played with Callie today. We only had a few minutes together, though, 'cause Daddy came out and scolded me. He forced me inside and said goodbye to Callie. He asked me why I hang out with a poor girl like her. I told him I liked her, and..." You trail off. "The note ends here. The fine ink is smeared."
"Fine ink?" John asks, taking a closer peek over your shoulder, so that you can feel his breath on your neck when he talks, "Like, a quill pen fine ink?"
You muster all of your energy just to keep from blushing. "Yes, most likely."
"What kind of family uses quill pens in 2005?" John asks, and you shrug, shoving the note into a pocket on your long robe. "The reason why you're keeping it?"
"It couldn't hurt." You reply, and walk out of the room, John close behind. He does the windy thing again, opening up a second door. You'll never get tired of that.
This room is almost identical to the last, except the wallpaper is different, this time with a floral pattern, as if it were a kid's room. There's a stuffed teddy bear on the bed, that's all too adorable.
"If only it were a bunny..." John gives you a toothy grin, and you smile back. That's your John, always making jokes, even in the volatile times. You search the drawers, finding a few cylinder-like objects in there.
"What are those?" He asks, picking up one curiously and rotating it at different angles. "Some sort of... tinder-cylinder?"
You give a soft chuckle. "Close enough. It's a Tinder-box." You open it up. "Like a lighter, used in the olden days to light up candles and such."
"'Olden days'?" John gives a scoff. "What is this, the 1900's?"
Even though it was supposed to be a joke, you give a twitch of your lips, deep in thought. "Possible. This house could have been built in the late 1940's." Your eyes scan the room, "This house could have been passed down."
"If it was passed down, then does that mean that the current heir... uh..." He whispers, "died?"
You give a slight nod of your head, trying your hardest not to look at John's face and see his reaction. Instead, you step outside of the door, looking down the hall. You feel a slight headache coming on, but you try your best to ignore it. No point in worrying John any more.
This time, you travel all the way down the hall, opening the door at the end. It leads you into a much larger room, which looks like it could be some form of living room. A fireplace greets you with warmth, and you're grateful for it being lit.
Wait a minute... lit?
"Rose..." John steps a bit forward in front of you, "fireplaces aren't supposed to be lit if a house is abandoned, is it?"
You shake your head. "No. No, they're not."
The couches seem nice and comforting. You decide to sit on one, just for the hell of it, and you instantly sink in. Wow, this is extremely comfortable!
"John, you have to sit on these!" You bounce a bit in your seat, "Whoever lives here certainly has a taste in décor."
John obliges, and takes a seat next to you. He begins to bounce, and you laugh as you're sent into the air from his weight. You place a hand over your mouth, trying to hide such a reaction that was not acceptable for one of your dark nature. John sees through this instantly (boy, does he know you better than anyone else), and removes your hand. You break into laughter. He sees this as an opportunity for a game.
"Oh God no, John!" Your laughter fit increases as he nestles his finger on your sides and begins tickling you. He's the only person who knows your dark secret. He's tickling you to the point where you feel as if you're sides will split.
"Come on, Rose. You know you like it!" His toothy grin just makes you laugh even more.
"John, it -hah- hurts!" You try to push his hand away. Sighing, he retracts his hands, and you try to glare at him, but you're laughing too hard to do so. "J-John!"
"C'mon Rose." You feel yourself beginning to flush as he comes closer. Realizing just how close you two are, he brings himself back. "Uh, sorry, there." He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.
You clear your throat and stand up. "Apology accepted."
"For the closeness?"
"No, the tickling." You smile just a bit and walk off, waiting for John to follow through the house.
And you begin to realize just how glad you are that he's here, and Dave and Jade aren't.
You sort of half-lead John through the second hallway, mainly because he sometimes takes the lead ahead of you, until you both happen upon an unlocked door.
"Hey! There's a rare occurrence!" John smiles and opens the door for you, allowing you to go first. You give a nod of gratitude and step inside. It lead into a room that looked like a dining room. There was a second door on the other side of the room, which you assumed to be a kitchen.
"Well, this seems like a nice dining room." You note and walk around the table, feeling the fine wood. "Although, extremely dirty," you add as you wipe a large thing of dust on your index finger.
John gives a nod and throws a moldy loaf of bread to the side. "Yuck. Wonder how long that's been sitting here?" You're looking at a painting on the wall when he calls you over.
"What is it?" You ask, but he doesn't answer. He only points to a key that had been trapped under that moldy bread, and boy did it smell like it! John picks it up, putting it in his pocket.
"That could be useful." He says, shrugging his shoulders, "If we only knew what door it went to. After all, we passed about a hundred locked doors."
"I think you're over-exaggerating." You say, crossing your arms.
"I think you're right." John grins, but it doesn't last long until you both hear a crash come from the other room.
You freeze, your eyes fixated on the door, anticipating movement. However, you both hear nothing. Seconds pass in silence.
Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock...
"Please tell me you heard that..." John whispers in your ear.
"Yes, I did." You reply, but you don't face him. You're still watching the door like a hawk watches a rabbit. Waiting. You just know that, as soon as you let your guard down, something will pop out. It always happens.
You let your guard down.
Then, without warning, there's a loud thump on the door, and you recoil in fear. John catches you before you hit the table, and you both just stand there, staring at the door.
You're suddenly snapped back into reality, and you push John to the ground. "Under the table!" You hiss, and you both crawl underneath the dining table.
Thump.
Thump.
Crash!
You both jump, so that your backs hit the table. You curse silently to yourself, and hug John tightly. There's footsteps coming forward, but they don't look like shoes. Grunts and sounds come from the person, and you both try your hardest not to breathe a word, let alone a breath.
John squirms, so you grab his hand to try and help calm him down. It somehow works, and you hear his breath slow down. Sweat trickles down your forehead, and you use your free hand to wipe it before it hits the ground.
Whatever it is, it's still there. And not going away. It's at time like these you wish you had brought your computer with you for PesterChum. You don't dare say a word, lest the person outside hear you.
John seems to agree, but he looks at you with eyes of, "What the hell is going on?" You wish you had an answer. As a Seer, you always seem to have the answers. But right now, you don't.
Once it's stepped outside the door, you can hear it walking down the halls. It's then that John thinks it's safe to talk.
"What the hell was that?" John whispers, looking into your amethyst eyes.
"I haven't a fathom." You see John biting his bottom lip again. Bad habit of his. Note to self: buy him some chap stick later.
That is, if you ever get out of this house alive.
You both crawl out from under the table, sighing in relief that you made it. John seems to still be holding your hand tightly, but you really don't mind. In fact, you hardly notice.
"That was fuckin' close." John wipes the sweat off his forehead with his free hand, and you, being out of breath, can only nod in agreement.
You stay there, on the ground, for a few minutes, just to make sure he/she/it doesn't come back. After awhile, you take a peek out into the hallway.
"Nothing." You report to John and go back inside the room. "Except for the fact that the door is completely broken off its hinges, everything is good." John gives a quiet laugh, just in case, and opens the door into the kitchen. You follow close behind, but John is blocking the way into the room.
"What? What is it John?" You ask, trying to squeeze through. He just stares in awe, and you finally see what he was looking at. Then, he gives a soft, but awed whisper:
"Holy fuck."