trusthell | SHRIEKING SKULLS WILL SHOCK YOUR SOUL AND SEAL YOUR DOOM TONIGHT

[Silver... Doesn't go to sit on some blanket, but instead raises his hand.]

Why are we telling stories about ghosts again? I don't think any of us have a single ghost-type Pokémon.

[...He has no idea what ghost stories are.]

[ . . . In all honesty Elda's just bored. Bored and frustrated and frankly Vampires have a lot of scary stories to their history and she can tell a lot of them.

...

That said when she first shows up she's also just poking the janky cardboard things as if she was expecting them to be moving. And is mildly disappointed when they don't

Oh well. ]

[The library is where Jasper has been staying at night anyway, when she isn't sitting on the bed in her room. So the library it is, looking more than a little lost.

The humans (and non-humans, for that matter) aren't so bad, really. They just... have strange behaviors she doesn't understand at all.

So here she is, sticking out very obviously. And not looking like she has a goddamn clue what to expect.]

[Of course it had to be ghost stories. Of course. All the people who don't have to deal with ghosts every day would love that kind of thing.]

I just want you to know, if any of these stories actually draw any ghosts here, I'm blaming all of you for it.

[But he still sits there, though not on the blanket yet.]

[...so the actual former-ghost doesn't know what to do and just kind of stands at the periphery what does she do]

Au...

[This group is too big.]

[...he just wanted to read a book. God knows he can't get his sleeping schedule back on track, and now he can't even get peace and quiet in this complete hellhole.]

Did I perhaps miss a note regarding another meeting?

[Funny how a polite question can sound like 'burst into flames', isn't it?]

[ Alright

as someone who literally sees ghosts, talks to them, and fights some of them, Orihime has a lot of stories to tell? And she also doesn't really get scared by most ghost stories anymore, because, well, yeah. She still loves them though and wants to hear the spoopiest of the spoopiest.

She's also brought several...potatoes...with her, and a small plate with a knife and a stick of butter. Yes. She is buttering a potato and eating it.

As for her own stories, well, she's not going to get personal, but she does have a few up her sleeve. ]

Do you want to go first, or should I?

[Well, this is kind of ridiculous, but it's a decent way to spend the evening. He has no interest in telling any stories, but Gangrel's absolutely here to listen. He'll just flop onto a chair and rest his elbow on the arm and his chin on his hand.]

Make sure they're gory! The nastier they are, the better!

[this is the most "ENTERTAIN ME" thing imaginable jfc

He might actually tell a story, if you're interested in trying to get him to participate.]

Alright.

[he hops up on the table where he spread the blanket out and leans into the audience a bit.]

So. Since there's only one other person familiar with Alolan culture here, Professor Guzma's gonna take you to school for a sec.

One, back in Alola, we have this moldy old tradition called the Island Challenge. Basically, you turn eleven, and then you're supposed to visit all the islands with your Pokemon and meet up with other kids picked out by our leaders called Trial Captains. They set up little challenges for the kiddos to do, and when you complete the challenge you fight a stronger and bigger than usual version of a Pokemon called a Totem Pokemon that the Captains are in charge of training and raising.

Got that? Good. So let's get this show on the road.

[Gently joins the 'what is a ghost story' crowd... She looks confused, but this also seems like an interesting distraction, so.]

Are we meant to tell stories about specters?

[Those aren't ghosts but close enough??]

[...You know, this is kind of silly all around. Really, telling each other ghost stories in a school that's far from normal? That seems incredibly childish and a distraction from what really needs to be done.

...Which of course means that she's gonna be in here, because come on. This is actually going to be pretty fun and she's not allergic to it. She's actually brought a bowl of some of those candies that she'll set on the table too.]

I look forward to hearing all of the delightfully frightening stories you all can conjure.

[Go have fun kids!!]

[ ...if anything catches fire in here, they'll be the ghosts. Hahaha that's funny because

never mind, it's not really that funny. She'll spend a good bit of time staring at the cutouts, trying to figure them out, and listening to any stories that get shared with a hefty amount of skepticism...

Eventually though, she'll take a seat on the blanket as long as no one else has it, crossing her legs one over the other. Story time, everyone. ]

This is something I heard not too long ago.

[ Her voice is a little low, conspirator-like, but it rises back into its usual even tone as she really starts. ]

In a normal little town, there lived a normal little girl named [ uh what's a good name— ] Mai. She was well-behaved and beloved by everyone she knew, but she was also incredibly curious by nature. Mai wanted to investigate everything and everyone, and for the most part, things went well for her. She made a lot of friends, and despite her curiosity, she didn't get in trouble.

One thing she was always curious about, however, was how her parents would send her to bed early on the first of every month. Whenever she tried to ask them about it, they would laugh and tell her, "You'll understand when you're older, Mai." Then they'd send her on her way with nothing more than that as an explanation. The older she got though, the less she believed them, and one night she resolved to stay awake and see what they were up to. If they asked what she was doing, she would just tell them that she was "older" now, and that it was fine for her to know about whatever it was.

Fourteen, she decided, was definitely old enough for almost anything.

[So a few people have told their stories, and finally Watanuki decides to bite the bullet and go through with this. He has plenty of experiences that would make for fantastic stories, and maybe he can scare some sense into everyone.]

To understand this story, first I have to tell you about a tradition called 'the 100 ghost stories'. When a group of people decide to do 'the 100 ghost stories', they gather in a room with 100 candles. Each person takes turns telling a story about a supernatural experience, and when they finish the story they blow out one of the candles. In the end, when the 100th story has been told and the 100th candle has been blown out, ghosts can enter the room and mingle among the storytellers. Or so the legend goes.

One night, a group of four friends gathered at a temple to do 'the 100 ghost stories'. They set everything up in one of the far back rooms of the temple, so that they wouldn't disturb the family that lived there. But you see, there shouldn't have been anyone in the room next door. As it turned out, that area of the temple was indeed a resting place of sorts: it was where the priests prepared the bodies of the dead before their funerals, and the room next door was where the bodies were stored. So it was very quiet, and perfect for ghost stories.

The stories started out as you would expect: each friend taking a turn telling a story, and the others listening intently. But as the friends told more stories and blew out more candles, a sense of unease began to settle in the room. A foul odor began to waft in, making the friends grimace and cover their noses. And eventually, as they continued the stories, they started to hear a noise coming from the next room over. A soft, quiet scratching noise. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

But they continued with their stories, intent on finishing all of them. Soon, they were down to the last candle, and a boy was telling the very last story, with the room barely visible under the flicker of light from that final candle. But as the storyteller was finishing his story, his three friends noticed something: behind him, through the rice-paper walls, they could see shapes moving about. It was as if people were in the room next door, looking for a way in.

The three friends tried to warn the fourth, to tell him that something was wrong. But he finished his story, and he blew out the last candle. Then, as soon as the light faded from the room and everything fell dark, the sound of tearing rice paper could be heard. The three friends heard the fourth scream, but that scream was cut off suddenly. By the time one of the other friends was able to turn the lights on, the fourth friend was gone. The only proof that anything had happened was his pair of shoes left by the door, and the dozen or so fist-sized holes in the rice-paper wall just behind where he had been sitting.

[Watanuki pauses here, looking over everyone's faces to see their reactions. Then, he finally speaks again:]

And that right there, that is why you shouldn't ever underestimate the risks of telling ghost stories!

[There were few things Kira hated more than being the center of attention. But he seemed to be stuck here for the moment, and he carefully weighed his options on whether not speaking up would seem even more conspicuous. As things went on, he eventually decided to find some halfway point; not the extravagant stories the others were telling, but something. That would be enough to fit in without seeming odd or remarkable--exactly how he liked it.]

The city I come from is a quiet suburb--a small, peaceful place with a population of...around 59,000, I believe. But Morioh is a very old town, and my family has lived in it for generations--dating back to when it was a resort filled with villas for samurai. ...When I was younger, my father often warned me of one thing within it.

[Kira hesitated briefly, like he was reconsidering something he'd said there. Whatever it was, he disregarded it and continued.]

'In this town there is a road where spirits of the dead walk freely,' I thought he was trying to warn me against something far less supernatural, as parents do for their children. But when he brought it up, he seemed entirely serious. As though he knew this for a fact, rather than simply making up a story.

'Yoshikage, if you ever find yourself on that road,' he said to me, 'you must never turn around. If you look behind you, then a power beyond control will drag you off.'

When he told me this, I asked the obvious question: 'drag me off where?' And he didn't answer.

My father wasn't one to lie or make up things like that. So I find myself forced to accept the possibility that somewhere--in a town old enough for my ancestors to have walked the ground it stands on--there exists a road walked by the dead and a force I can't possibly comprehend.

Okay, uh... I'll try one! I don't know how scary it is, but it's true, and I know it scared me when I was younger, so.

[ As far as anyone here knows, anyway. ]

Before I begin, there are some things you must know about my people. Or... those who live on Akopos, anyway. The whole planet is covered by ocean, and our star is far away. This means that if you travel outside the monastery, the only like you have is your Syl, or the glow that comes from our skin.

[ She glows a little for emphasis. ]

But because we believe in living at peace with that ocean, there is much of it we do not know. We do not indulge in the luxury of written maps, instead relying on landmarks and the guidance of our elders. In this way, we can find spaces for solitude that truly belong to us, that no one else knows how to get to. It also means that a glow in the distance is that of another monk in the order, since freshwater doesn't foster much danger in the animals. But an ocean is an ocean, and there are some parts more dangerous than others. One such place was the Tenthri Abyss, a deep canyon much closer to the monastery than any of the monks would have liked. This is the story of why the Tenthri Abyss collapsed in on itself, as told to me by the elder Roa Denthar. May her wisdom guide my words.

[Everyone's telling their ghost stories and it's so exciting, ghost stories are great and holy shit he is not sleeping tonight, is he. He's not.

So he's gonna make sure no one else is able to either. Gold sits cross-legged on the table, taking off his cap and brushing through his hair.]

In Johto, we've got a lotta cool things. It's a real historical place, you know? Plenty of people who've died, who've gone missin', lost their way on Mt. Silver and ended up gettin' eaten or worse.

[He pauses, setting back on his cap and resting his chin in his palm, elbow on his thigh.]

My story ain't about that, somethin' a little closer to home -- just as cold though.

[so sorry silver.]

[So, one trip to the supply closet later...

When Lusamine and Silver come back, it's with quite a few candles. Seriously, it's good that they both decided to take the trip, because while Lusamine breaks the candles to circumvent the limit and Silver lights them up, Lusamine is going to speak up.]

Everyone, I would like to give a round of applause to you all--your stories have been nothing short of spine tingling, and rather horrifying as well! We are so curious to the legitimacy of Mr. Watanuki's story, however, so...

We think it's time we tried to reach that limit, don't you all agree?

Everyone who wishes to share some more stories, please take a few of these half candles and light them on the candles that have not been blown out yet--our goal shall be to see if we can meet these 100 ghost stories before the night is over, and see some unusual phenomenon for ourselves.

Best of luck, all of you!

[COME ONE COME ALL, GET YOUR CANDLES]

Edited 2017-01-26 05:33 (UTC)

[He's a little late getting here, having been finishing up some "stories" of his own. For once, he's more amused by other people's stories, so rather than showboating it up, he sits off to the side and listens. It doesn't help that most of his "ghost" stories feel all too real, considering the way his world worked.]

[Still, it was an enjoyable experience nonetheless. For a time, it's easy enough to forget the grimness of their situation, and simply watch a bunch of people goof about and enjoy themselves. It also helped to see people be so carefree about demons. It was nice being in a world where, at least apparently, they didn't pose such a grim threat.]

[If pressed though, Varric might have a story or two. Just ask nicely.]

Edited 2017-01-26 06:22 (UTC)

All right, everyone, I have a story for you.

[Mercy's brought a cup of tea with her, and she takes a sip before she starts.]

There is a little town in Germany called Adlersbrunn, deep in the Black Forest. Long, long ago, there was a scientist who lived in the town named Dr. Jamison Junkeinstein. He was brilliant, making automatons for the local lord, but unfortunately, that lord had no love for the creations.

So, Dr. Junkenstein decided he would take his revenge, by creating something extraordinary - true life. However, no matter what he tried, no matter what he did, he couldn't find the spark to make his creation come alive.

One night, when the doctor was about to give up, the Witch of the Wilds came to him. She offered him the Spark of Life, but under one condition: one day she would come back and ask a favor, and he would have to grant it without question and without fail.

Needless to say, the monster came to life, throwing the town into chaos. They say that the lord himself begged for mercy, but was given none. Once the carnage was complete, the monster fled into the forest. That, of course, is when the witch asked her favor: a soul for a spark of life.

They say that to this day, if you visit the village at just the right time of night, you'll hear the laughter of the mad scientist and see the creature itself.

[ Elda took a while to think of a decent enough story, and when she comes up with one, she grins. Taking her place at the appointed spot, the grandmother begins, her tone ominous ]

This is a story that starts us off in the old country, actually. Back in the ancient days of knights and kings and serfs. And our story begins with an ambitious vampire named Maxwell von Zarovich. [ She hums a little, smiling to herself and exposing her fangs as she continues, the candle close to her face ] Old Maxwell was a bit of an odd sort, because he saw that the humans of his country just never stopped killing each other, and he was real bothered by it all! The church told them that someone understood something off and so their head was off! Someone stole some bread to feed their family and they lost a hand! And of course, a hundred little men calling themselves kings were sending all their knights to slaughter each other all the time. He wanted to try and make things better for them, and so Maxwell decided to call himself a king.

[ She shook her head, as if that was foolish ] Of course, in those days, no one could just be in charge without anything to show for it, so Maxwell von Zarovich convinced his family to rise up with him, and then he won over a bunch've poor humans too to call hm their lord. Soon enough some've the knights even answered to him, and von Zarovich went to war! Over and over he fought and he fought, trying to get all of those hundred kings in line. Every time he won, the people those kings were lording over praised his family and entered his kingdom, but every time the wars were long and bloody. A hundred kings took over a hundred years to beat in all!

And so even though all the humans were coming out on top, people began to say Maxwell was a monster. He only rode at night, and how could he still be so young if a century'd past?

But see, the funny thing is, Maxwell von Zarovich really believed he could help out all the humans under him, s the damn fool never ate unless he was on a battlefield, feeding off his enemies. So he got to be old looking. I know I'm young and beautiful, but he didn't age near as good, and even if the wars were common, after a hundred years of it all, his hair was white and his bones were gnarled. But once it was all over, the land had the true king they had always wanted, someone who rule them all fairly and benevolently.

Or well, that was the plan.

[Phi hasn't been very talkative through all this so far.]

I think I've got one.

[She takes a deep breath in.]

So there's this guy. Twenty-something, in college, barely a care in the world. But just before Christmas, with no warning whatsoever, he falls over like he just suddenly died.

When he gets up, nothing he does gets the same reaction. Just about everyone treats him like he's a completely different person - odd looks, suspicious to everyone, the whole deal.

He looks in a mirror and sees someone else's face.

[She's been silent for most of the night, listening intently to the others as they tell their ghost stories.]

I think I have one.

There was once a kind ruler. She was young, and loved. The treasured little sister. She was given her own land to rule, and her subjects all cared for her deeply. Except for one.

She and her favorite servant were in a beautiful garden one night, right outside of her palanquin when her servant attacked. In one instant, the young ruler was cut down-- literally. To pieces. By her own servant.

But it didn't kill her. Not really. She's still there. She's forgotten who she was, what she is. All she knows now is that there's something missing and that she needs to be whole. So by her fallen garden she remains, searching for her missing pieces.

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