It was strange, constantly being in the shadows. It could play games on you, make you see things that aren't there. And sometimes hides killers or monsters within its' clutches like a trap, ready to be sprung out on the poor victim. You hear things that aren't really there. The darkness is like a trap, cold. But can be a blessing, warm. To Vincent, it was overbearingly cold and he shivered and sighed. Jeremy, it was overly warm, like a thick blanket in the high of summer.
He felt wrapped in heat and he asked, pulling at his collar as he huffed slightly, "I-is it me or is it overly hot in this place?" Vincent, who was next to Mike laughed a bit bitterly and said in a slightly shaking tone of voice, feeling so very cold, "What are you talking about? It's bloody cold in here!" Mike didn't feel anything but an eerie chill in the air.
"How can you feel cold? I'm heating up over here like boiling potatoes!" Jeremy exclaimed angrily before starting to unbutton his shirt but Mike raised a hand and said, "Don't just strip in here Jere! Who knows what's in this place!" Jeremy grumbled but complied and buttoned his shirt back up. Though as he did, he didn't feel overly hot anymore. Like Mike's words chased something away that was heating him up.
Chasing something away that made him want to strip because of the heat. He shivered in slight fear at that thought alone and when he was finished, he noticed that Vincent was looking at something on the floor and he walked over and joined him, crouching down next to the piece of paper. Mike and Vincent knelt down as well and Vincent picked up what looked like a note and the paper was worn and stained red in certain parts. Ink was blotched, like whoever was writing it was in a hurry.
"What could this be?" Mike asked and Vincent shrugged as he stood up, followed by Jeremy and Mike. "I honestly don't know. The hand-writing is unfamiliar and the language looks like Old English to be honest." He replied with a small frown on his pale face. He didn't know much Old English, but he could tell that whoever was writing this, was saying their final goodbyes before the blood, yes blood as he had identified, splattered all over. But it was still readable to a high degree. Though the longer words were slightly distorted.
"Let's translate this after we find Scott and head back home for the week." Jeremy suggested to the other two. The purple haired male nodded his head in agreement, "Yeah." He gently folded the paper and put it into his breast pocket and added with a slightly narrowed look to his eyes, "Now let's go find Scotty-boy."
To be continued...