WEEK 5

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Wander and Sylvia are dead, the Ghost Host was snuffed out like a light, and Tarzan is nowhere to be seen. It seems like in an instant everything is changed, not just the circumstances, but the mansion itself. It feels like it's gotten significantly colder in the mansion, and you might also start seeing bugs out of the corner of you eyes, darting away into darkness the moment you try to focus on them.

And, starting this week, any and all ghosts are eerily absent but at the same time, no matter where you go, you feel like you're being watched by something. To make matters worse, the attic doors have been nailed open. 

But there are some bright spots in this week. When you wake up on Sunday, you'll find that you have a brand new tuxedo hanging up on your bedroom door, in your exact size. Later, if you're curious enough to try going from the second floor to the attic, you'll find that there's a whole new floor to explore, but this time it's just comprised of two rooms: a smallish but serviceable laundry room and an expansive casino with an attached bar.

Don't tell Jiminy about this he will have a heart attack.

Feel free to explore, but maybe you want to keep away from the Stretching Room for awhile. Somebody cut the noose on the hanging corpse.

17 guests remain.]

[ SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY ]

{OOC: Don't forget to fill our your Week 4 Activity Check!}

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Sunday

[grimgrinningghosts]

Monday

[grimgrinningghosts]

Tuesday

[grimgrinningghosts]

Wednesday

[grimgrinningghosts]

Thursday

[grimgrinningghosts]

[whistlenotchirp]

[Jiminy takes a long time to get out of bed, head pounding with a hangover. God, he was so disgusting. Everyone would be laughing at him, pointing fingers, calling him a... a... boozer. All his credibility, down the drain, after one little slip.

After hours of hunger and guilt, he eventually has to leave his room. His mom always said "the early cricket avoids those flying death monsters looking for worms" and it was too ingrained for him to spend a whole day in bed. That was, like, a whole percent of his life.

Holy shit, was he really almost four months already? He was stuck here for a third of his lifetime already.

Trying to brush these thoughts out of mind, he began his day searching for those bugs he keeps seeing around. Maybe he could find someone sympathetic who knew a way out of this hellhole.

With that failed, he moves to explore the new floor. He's, of course, disgusted by this horrible casino, but... honestly, he can't even work up a lot of anger right now. What was the point?

He plops a seat near the front of the room, glaring at anyone who steps too close to the tables or the bar, but he's not gonna start a confrontation unless someone else speaks up.]

[defyingfrigidity]

[Elsa, as usual, heads straight to the memorial after breakfast, and yes, she's wearing the provided suit. She likes her ice dresses and all, but the feeling of wearing clothes made out of normal fabric is something she was starting to miss. Is she going to stop doing what she had taken up for Sophie? Heck no. It's a little better this week, even with the chaos of the trial still being felt among all the survivors. Her emotions had settled, and though they're still not in a very good place, Elsa can control them better, which means she can do what she's been doing for everyone else so far. First, of course, she starts off with the names:

Wander
Sylvia
Ghostave/Ghost Host

She doesn't care how the others feel about the host, though the mess at the end of the trial... hopefully warmed them up to him a bit. She'll add his name, and if anyone tries to mess with it, she'll make sure it stays up there. As for the offerings... Wander and Sylvia get little ice sculptures of themselves, both smiling, Wander propped up on Sylvia's shoulders. For the host... she doesn't know what she could offer him, so she makes a small sculpture of him as well, smiling and bowing.

Later, she'll be in the graveyard, though she looks pretty nervous being out here. After everything that happened... yeah. She wasn't really keen on coming back to the scene of so much chaos. But there were still things to do, things to take care of... those things being the gravestones, of course. There are still some she hadn't gotten to when she was cleaning up last week, and with the ones the others had knocked over during the investigation... she can't just leave it all like that.

Later on, she'll be in the game room once more. She doesn't call out to any of the spirits, even though she's pretty worried about Ezra after what happened to the Host... but with news that even more malevolent spirits are haunting around the mansion, she realized she needs to be more careful. Still, she can't just go without saying anything...]

Ezra, if you or any of your friends can hear this... you don't have to respond, but I hope you're okay. And I hope you know I still want to help you, now more than ever.

[amadeusrockette]

[Julia immediately puts on the new suit (although she leaves off the actual suit jacket) because oh god is her previous outfit dying. It was absolutely made to be worn for a few hours at a performance rather than . . . continuously . . . for a month . . . Something feels off, but she doesn't let it bother her as she searches through the house for new areas.

Blessed day there's a laundry room. She sets about washing, uh. Everything? Like, she used her sheets as a makeshift dress for a while so literally everything just needs to be washed. After that's done and drying, Julia wanders into the casino. That part of the new floor isn't really of great concern to her. She's not overly interested in gambling, and after playing a few rounds on the slot machine she's realized these ones don't also contain their stuff.

The bar, however, has her attention. She's not in the mood to drink heavily right this second, not after the afterparty and the terrible American vodka, but she's delighted that this exists now. She's even more delighted to discover beer on tap and immediately starts pouring small amounts into a glass and tasting them. They're not ones she recognizes, but she finds they're not all terrible either.]

Lea

[nobodyperfect]

[By the time Lea usually wakes up, there's no movement from room 120. It's an hour later that a piteous moan, muffled by a pillow, echoes from the room. You'd think the house was haunted, and you'd be right, but this isn't a ghost.

Lea is hungover.

Feeling like death warmed over, he eventually staggers out (in his tuxedo top and pants), through the foyer, squinting at any light regardless of brightness, and makes his way to the kitchen. However, food... isn't appetizing right now. But maybe there's a miracle hangover cure somewhere.

He's not much more chipper when he leaves. A glass of water helped take the edge off, but it still feels like his eyes are melting out of his skull. He flops facedown on a couch in the lounge and groans.

It's not until his hangover finally begins to clear that he goes exploring. When he finds the laundry room, he washes his normal clothes. They desperately need it.]

[aboyandhiscar]

[. . .

What the hell is with the tux. He frowns at it, but eventually opts to at least wear the pants with his undershirt, so he can give the rest of his clothes a good wash later. He still wears his signature jacket though, so honestly not much of a change here.

Later, in the kitchen he's laid out a simple spread of food for folks who may or may not have hangovers. There's a huge glass of water for each guest, chopped and peeled fruit, and simple, basic sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but enough to take an edge off.

If anyone's feeling really headachey, he can be found trying to attempt a remedy he's only vaguely heard about through others. Garlic, eggs, milk, ginger, and some miscellaneous veggies......INTO THE BLENDER THEY GO. If the normal food isn't working for you, Mike will try to hand the concoction over to whoever needs. it.]

Okay, I'll be honest--not sure if this is the right recipe, but it's. . .maybe supposed to cure a hangover? It'll wake you up at the very least.

[Horrible. Later, once he's realized other people are checking it out, he'll go to peek into the casino and--bar?! Jeezus, that doesn't bode well. Instead of hanging out there, he'll go back downstairs into the billiards room, just playing a game of pool by himself with a cup of coffee on the side. Said coffee may have a dash of leftover moonshine in it but shhh.]

[toogoodforhim]

[By the time that Sunday comes along, Lefou is a lot more like his old self again. His face is less swollen (although the bruise across his nose has spread to ring both of his eyes and he looks kind of like a big, sad raccoon), and he no longer sounds like he's talking with a severe head cold.

Also, while probably not the best idea when he's recovering from a concussion, he's managed to severely tame his downright scruffy-looking chin back down to his regular sideburns and a normal amount of stubble. Four weeks was too long. We're not making it five.

And now that he doesn't have to hold onto the wall for support, he's in a surprisingly good mood. He's had to scrub his shirt clean (again. why is it always BLOOD on his shirt and not normal stains), but because he was too out of it to scrub it before it had the chance to set the collar is stained a little brown. But he has no desire to navigate a whole tuxedo's worth of buttons first thing in the morning so he's just running around in his usual garb, two-inch heels and all.

He doesn't make anything for breakfast (though he makes sure that the mint tea is set out on the counter for anyone who's having a Hard Morning), but come dinnertime he's in the kitchen making soup again. Something hearty and warm and with plenty of flavorful broth for anyone who's still feeling a little under the weather.

Come night time, he sneaks across the hall to room 116, pillow in hand, and knocks quietly on the door.]

[chainbroke]

[ When she wakes up and finds that tuxedo, she's a little bit unsure and a little bit relieved. She can finally stop wearing the dress for a little while, bit she's not too sure how it'll look on her. Still, she puts on the suit--a white thing with a light blue waistcoat. She leaves off the jacket, but she looks pretty good.

Pants are nice to wear, also.

Naminé goes to the kitchen first for a cup of tea and some toast. She doesn't really have much of an appetite, but she's looking at the eggs and bacon. Maybe she can make something for everyone...?

Later on, in the dining room, there are enough eggs, bacon, and toast for everyone. Naminé is there, sketching a portrait of Tarzan in the jungle. She hopes that, wherever he is, he's having fun, and he'll be able to meet Jane again. Every so often, she has to stop and push her hair out of her eyes; she'd forgotten how it got in the way. She spends most of her time in the dining room, but she darts back and forth from there to the foyer to lay sketches at the memorials.

And then, later that night, she slips notes Maui's door. It's short, but very to the point: Please meet me in the dining room tonight. I have something to tell you.

--Naminé

As for Lefou, she'll go directly to his room and knock. ]

[toogoodforhim]

Just a second!

[He comes to the door in his stockinged feet, with one side of his hair looking like he had been trying to carefully comb it around the tender spot on the back of his head.]

Hey, Nene, what are you doing up this late?

[chainbroke]

Hi, Lefou.

[ She looks a little nervous, doesn't she? ]

I couldn't sleep, and... I needed to tell you something. Something important.

... May I come in?

[toogoodforhim]

[His smile fades to worry when he sees how nervous she is.]

Yeah, of course.

[He stands aside to let her in.]

Everything alright?

[chainbroke]

[ Oh, no, now she's gone and worried him. Naminé considers nodding, but she stops herself as she steps inside. ]

It's just... it's something I've kept from you this whole time, and I don't feel very good about keeping it from you anymore.

[toogoodforhim]

[He's quiet, but after he shuts the door he moves to sit down on his bed and pats the space next to him for her to come sit with him.]

You can tell me anything, you know that.

[chainbroke]

[ She nods slowly, still looking incredibly unsure... but she takes a seat next to him. ]

Okay. [ Just... deep breath. It's fine. ] Lefou, I'm... not human.

[toogoodforhim]

[...What.]

I'm- ...Sorry?

[chainbroke]

I'm not human. I'm not even supposed to exist.

[ She's not looking at him. ]

That's what I've been told my whole existence. I'm only a part of someone else. Back where I come from... when someone loses their heart, if they have a particularly strong heart-- [ like you, Lefou, she almost says ] --they produce two beings. One of darkness, called a Heartless.

One of nothingness, called a Nobody. That's what I am: a Nobody.

foolish mortals: now under new management

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Around 6pm, a rather dry voice speaks. It's not a voice they recognize, not belonging to any of the ghosts or Mr. Hatbox. But, it's not like we have a lot to do now, right?]

A replacement has been chosen. Meet in the casino hall.

[Once everyone has congregated, the lights go dim, and a spotlight shines in the middle of the room.

The door audibly locks. Something moves about in the shadows.

Now we wait.]

[amadeusrockette]

[Uh, well. She's already hanging out in the bar so . . . she heads over to the casino. This seems like a bad surprise. She doesn't want this surprise.]

What do you think they mean, replacement?

[sixfingeredstan]

[....Okay. That sounds ominous. Ford doesn't at all like the sound of it. Nor does he like the tuxedo he's been given, which is made of a shimmery gold fabric that's entirely too reminiscent of Weirdmageddon for Ford's liking. But he's been wearing the same pants, undershirt, and alternating two sweaters for the past of the month, and, well. Sometimes it's worth a little residual anger to wear clean clothes.

He shows up in the newly-available casino hall, looking about as apprehensive as he feels.]

This can't possibly be good.

[terribibble]

[Well that's not ominous at all. Fiddleford hasn't had time to actually check out the casino (and proper gambling is a sin anyway so he didn't plan to), which means he's now stuck in a dark and unfamiliar room waiting for something totally unknown to pop out of the corner and say hi.

Great. He fiddles nervously with the cuffs of his green plaid suit and scuffs one (bare) foot against the floor. Usually when a spotlight comes up there's already something there to illuminate. This is... he doesn't like this. Especially not the weird sounds from outside the ring of light.]

What was that?

[kindaruledatit]

[Wendy comes dressed in her suit of course. She's feeling a little better, things may be alright today.

Then the doors lock. And now things are not okay. Her hand instinctively reaches for her axe... which she wasn't wearing on her pants anymore. Whoops.]

Oookay. Maybe we should have figured that it could be a trap.