WEEK 2

[grimgrinningghosts]

[One week. One week spent in the Haunted Mansion, and nothing seems to have changed. The hinges still creak in doorless chambers, strange and frightening sounds still echo through and you still occasionally catch a flicker of candlelight out of the corner of your eye. You might be slowly becoming familiar with the mundanity of this communal life, and we've recognized that possibility.

Something has to give.]

[SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY]

{ooc: Don't forget to turn in your week 1/intro AC! As per murdergame tradition, this begins our new weekly schedule - Tuesday and onwards are locked for the motive. Everybody's just working for the weekend.

Additionally, a few people this week are going to get tagged by...something. If you'd like to opt out of this, please let us know.}

Comments

SUNDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

MONDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

TUESDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

WEDNESDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

THURSDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

MOTIVE: Dark Secrets

[yourghosthost]

Stretching Room. Now. I wish to address all of you.

[The Ghost Host appears, holding a box of 25 envelopes in his hands. Each has the name of the competitor on it, as well as a small picture of the competitor in question for the wild men and former henchmen amongst you. He seems displeased as he sets it down on the ground.]

My... [he hesitates.] employer wished for me to issue out a motive today, so as to increase the possibility of a grisly murder later this week. Specifically, they wished for me to reveal and announce your darkest secrets aloud, day-by-day.

That is a form of public humiliation, and something that will not be tolerated within my manor.

I've reached a compromise with my employer. Find enclosed within your marked envelope a secret of your's. My employer has threatened to reveal these should no murder be committed by the end of the week - I shall try to push them towards a more reasonable timeline.

And again, I do apologize.

[He disappears, leaving the box behind.

True to his word, each envelope contains a secret about that character, along with an illustration (either photographic or drawn) that depicts this.]

[terribibble]

[Well. He wouldn't call community life here 'mundane' exactly what with the ghosts and aliens and high possibility of alternate realities, but the fact remains all the same that Fiddleford is starting to acclimate. He's venturing out of his room more, he hasn't run into any spiderwebs in days, and while his baseline level of panic is still quite high he's got a much better handle on it than he did at the start. It's fine. He is not going to die in this house, even if this is a house where severed hands come out of slot machines.

Speaking of the slot machine, he's staying far away from it for now. Instead he can be found in the conservatory, reading from a particular thick book and occasionally taking notes in his own notebook. He's put off actually reading this thing, and he's still going awful slow on the off-chance he's exposed to something he'd rather not read about, but... but what if Ford wrote about him?]

... Leprecorn. I swear to god it's like he made half this nonsense up...

conservatory

[kindaruledatit]

[Boy it sure would be a shame

if someone were to happen upon him, and lean over his shoulder.]

...Is that the journal?

[trashcubes]

[It's been a week without Eve, but... WALL-E is starting to relax a little. No one has gotten hurt or died and maybe things will get better from there.

As a result, come Sunday morning...]

Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out
Strut down the street and have your picture took
Dressed like a dream your spirits seem to turn about
That Sunday shine is a certain sign
That you feel as fine as you look!

[There is a song that can be heard playing in the mansion today, and anyone who comes to investigate will see that the voices of Michael Crawford and Barbara Streisand are coming from WALL-E! In particular, the speakers on his chest.

Who will then wave to you upon spotting you from where he had been cleaning this spot in the room here. How's it going?]

[wannagetsmote]

[Guess what? Yes it's Maui, breathe it in.

Maui first tries his hand in the game room today but... It's hard to play chess by yourself, and he really isn't interested in playing with ghosts. Plus having big sausage fingers makes other games pretty darn difficult. And after getting upset one too many times playing Dip Flip, the board goes flying and Maui sits there, pouting.

Later, he can be found in the study, going through the provided reading material. Or rather, opening a book, not finding his name, and tossing it to the side with a loud, sing-song 'boring'. Someone please protect the books.

During the evening hours, after cooking up another heaping plate of chicken, Maui can be found on the endless staircase. He looks like he might be... trying to race it? As if he might be able to go fast enough to beat the system. Really, it just ends up with him being out of breath and punching the walls.]

Conservatory

[wannagetsmote]

[Maybe Fidds would notice Maui approaching, he wasn't exactly quiet. If so, he'd probably detect the man leaning over his shoulder long before the demigod said anything. In the even that he didn't, though, well... This weird, tiny old man wouldn't be the first person he scared here.]

Leprecorn? [Regardless of whether or not he was caught, Maui eventually spoke in a loud, booming voice despite their proximity.] I've fought one of those before.

Study

[folkscallmewander]

[Wander gasps when he walks by the room.]

What are you doing?! [He rushes in, slides on his knees, and cradles a book in his arms.] These poor books have been sittin' all alone, untouched for years, gatherin' dust instead of hands to turn their pages, longing for someone to read them, and you just throw them on the floor? Their delicate spines can't take this cruel mistreatment! Their first owner would have wanted someone to read these books and take care of them until their final days, what would they think if they saw us lookin' at it like it was junk?

[In short: what the heck Maui, treat these books with kindness.]

[terribibble]

Well I don't know if it's the journal but it is a journal. One of Stanford's.

[terribibble]

[Oh, he noticed. First he hoped Maui was in here to do his own thing and wouldn't approach him specifically, and then he hoped if he stayed quiet long enough he'd go away, but apparently you can't win 'em all and now he has to try and navigate a conversation with a man whose little finger is about the same width as one of his arms.]

You've --

You fought one? It doesn't exactly look like the fightin' sort.

[aboyandhiscar]

[AN ENTIRE WEEK. STUCK IN A HOUSE. This is fine, this is cool, he's laid low longer. Everything is fine!!

Sunday morning you can find Mike pacing around the foyer. Does he know he's pacing? No. But he's probably walked by the Bios at least 20 times already, pretty much committing most information to memory out of sheer boredom, not that there's much of it. Then he just walks back and forth along the entire area, seemingly lost in thought for a long dang while. Eventually he'll start walking up the eternity stairs. It's like some weird hamster wheel, in a way. It's fine, just getting some exercise sort of!!

By lunchtime, he's in the kitchen, which is normal enough............aside from the fact that he's made at least, 25 different sandwiches, all different types, all gradually stacking up. And he just keeps going. ANYONE WANT A SNACK? Mike's got you covered.

Then evening comes around, and housemates may hear a thump in the stretching room. And another. And again. It keeps going. If they go investigate, they'll notice Mike hitting the ground, getting a running start, jumping, and then trying to launch himself off the wall. His goal? Looks like he's trying to knock Ghost Host's body from its noose...with a broom. Look, when you don't have your normal weapons, you gotta improvise. He also has a rag tied around his face to help ignore that stench.

Unfortunately the room is PRETTY DANG TALL, so he keeps juuust missing the body. Maybe he knocks off a shoe?? Who knows. In any case, he doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

Just burning off some energy, nothing to see here!!!]

Kitchen

[ilovepuppies]

Whoa... it's sandwich heaven!

[folkscallmewander]

[It's been a week since Wander has been able to play his banjo, where is his banjo, he wants music that isn't from the foyer buttons. He can't do the button dance every day. But his prayers are answered when a new song echoes from down the hall.

Wander hums along with the song until he finds the source.]

WALL-E! Is that you singin'?

[ilovepuppies]

[Guess who discovered the gallery?

Guess who discovered that the eyes in all the portraits follow you?]

Whoo! I'm over here! Whoosh! Now I'm over here! C'mon guys, keep up!

[She's gonna be at this for a while.]

[aboyandhiscar]

[He's just gonna continue making them, looking up from spreading mayo on his current one.]

--oh hey. Don't know if heaven is the right word! But feel free to help yourself, they're not going anywhere.

Study

[sixfingeredstan]

[OH HELL NO.]

Excuse me, Maui, but some of us actually enjoy reading those books. They're going to be all out of order if you keep throwing them around like that! Not to mention damaged!

[sixfingeredstan]

[He was just passing by, but...]

You really don't find them creepy at all?

[Kids these days! So bold! So daring!]

Kitchen

[sixfingeredstan]

[Listen. Ford Pines lives off of sandwiches most days. They're easy to make, they fill you up, they require minimal effort. It's rare that he's hungry enough to cook an actual meal. He's just too busy to be hungry.

Which is why his face lights up when he sees that dazzling array of sandwiches.]

Mike, my boy, it's like you read my mind!

[He squints.] You aren't a telepath, are you?

[aboyandhiscar]

Haha, nope. If I were, I probably would have seen this coming. [he continues to stack sandwiches. He has a system going.]

Help yourself Pops, there's plenty more where all this came from. Until the fridge empties out, I guess.

[wannagetsmote]

Uh... what? [He knocked another book down, blinked, then glanced over at Wander. Turns out, everyone's favorite demi-god is part cat.]

It's just... parchment with scribbles on it. [Thunk]

[ilovepuppies]

YAY THANKS!

[She barely waits for him to stop talking before she grabs three sandwiches. Tucking them under one arm, she digs around in the cupboard until she finds a bag of sugar.]

They just need a liiiittle...

[And then she proceeds to dump sugar all over them.]