It looked almost like one of those old haunted manors. The stone was an ebony with dead straggly ivy vines creeping up the walls. Windows too filthy to let in any light, and cold seeped into the very marrow of his bones as Ghost set him down on the limestone walkway to the door. It was large, the mohagony wood appeared darker than it should have, and there hung a tarnished knocker which was expertly shaped to resemble a creature of which Soap couldn't reconize. The snout of it was sneering and the knocker itself hung from large nostrils like a nose ring. Not truely a bull because there was something canine about it.
He didn't even touch the knocker before an eerie voice seemed to whisper, "Enter..." MacTavish looked to the others to confirm that they too had heard the voice. And they seemed about as freaked as he was. His last nerves were being spent on not trembling and keeping his own voice steady.
No one had touched the door either. It swung open, double doors smacking the walls inside loud enough to make even Ghost flinch just slightly. He didn't think it was possible, but colder air was escaping the manor from the open door. They stepped inside, and they all swung around when the doors slammed shut behind them. Shepard even rushed to them and tucked on the knob in vain before giving up and returning to them.
"We're locked in." He stated, fear edging into his tone.
Ghost seemed to roll his eyes and walked ahead towards the door on the opposite side of the grand entrance. Or it once was. The stairs had once been two large and elegant ones on either sides of the room, winding up to the large balcony above. Between them was another door. Now he could tell that once the place was beautiful. The rails were of the finest metals and had once gleamed in candlelight of the crystal chandelleir, the wooden staircase had once been covered with the finest of scarlet carpetting, and the marble floor had once been a pale gray that appeared a warmer amber when the room was lit by flickering flames. Now the once gleaming handrails of the stairs were tarnished and lost their golden color, the stairs appeared rotting, carpet was stained and torn off in some places, and the crystal chandelleir was crashed in the very center of the room. The diamond looking gems didn't catch a glimmer of light anymore. The place looked sad, and miserable to him.
"I'm sure this place must've been great in its day." He sighed, eyeing the decaying paintings on the wall in the darkness of the room.
"Too right, mate." Ghost responced, fingers running over the dust covered door; it left long trails where he had touched it. "Let's get this over with."
With a push, the door opened and they stepped inside the inky black that vailed over the was almost like stepping into a freezer. Goosebumps rose across Soap's arms, but he barely seemed to notice. His eyes were trying to adjust to the dark. Then everything flashed to white, leaving them all blinded for a moment before the light settled to a dull flame light illumination that allowed them to see the room around them.
There on three sides of the room were alone figures. And as they became clear. He was stunned. The one on the far right was an almost feminine face, smooth, glowing snowy skin and eyes bright. The hair was long platinum blonde waves tumbling down in a rippling cascade down a slender figure. The far left was the complete opposite. A dark skinned and scarred muscular being who bore a sneer that reveiled jagged teeth and crimson eyes narrowed. The one in the center was the most unsettling. Unlike the two on the sides, this one was a skeletal thin thing, as if it were just a set of bones with gray skin stretched over that. The face was shocking. Almost no face at all. The nose was just a hole in the face, and the person's mouth was just teeth uncovered because the lips seemed to of just fallen off. The eyes, they were just dark holes with dried red crust around them.
"Are you the Sealers?" Ghost asked, one of his wings twitched.
The voice that answered sounded like it was one of the more song-like accents. But he couldn't place what one. "Yes, we are. To whom are we to speak with?"
Soap took a step forward from the group. "I am." It surprised himself how steady he spoke. "I have come to you hoping for another chance."
The dark one answered him. "A second chance." He almost seemed to laugh in the most taunting of ways. As if to ignite a spark in him which would cause him to burst out in anger. "You died, you foolish soul. Can't bring back what's left."
The feminine person on the opposite side of the room stared at the dark man with a neutral expression before casting Soap one of sympathy. "You did pass, I am sorry. But there is so little we can do for you."
Dark guy here laughed again, "And he's a rougue! We don't help their kind!"
"We are open to ALL spirits, Diabolo." The lighter said. "Not just those whom fall under our ranks. Those who do, we may not help in that matter. But one who has not been tainted by any single faction, there still might be something we could do."
Shepard must have moved while Soap wasn't looking because he whispered right in his ear, "I told you. Give me your hand quick." Soap shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye. Why should he give him his hand? This was just odd and strange.
"Why?" He asked quietly.
"Just do it." Shepard answered, voice low. When Soap didn't comply, he took his hand and gripped around his fingers. The younger nearly whipped around and shouted at him, but Shepard added, "Just don't move."
He then realized that the pain that was once in his hand was fading. And when he touched his fingers to one another, he could feel his familiar calloused fingertips instead of the crumbling stone that was there a moment ago. "Bu- how?"
"I took the damage you were sustaining for you." He answered gruffly, at the very edge of his vision, he could see the cracks that were etched on Shepard's face had grown more provenate, and his earlobe had fallen off. What would jump up to surprise Soap next?