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[ And To Tell Their Ghosts We'd've Still Loved Them If They Were Here ]

(Or: a collection of working backstory notes + some mini-fic for my Twisted Wonderland Yuusona OC)

[ Ramshackle Dorm ]

-------x-------Alex White/Akihito Yukishima\雪島 秋人 -------x-------

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Don't let his short stature and quiet demeanor fool you. This tired and jaded twenty-something with a penchant for snark and heavily-repressed anger issues originates from a variation of Earth where all sort of malicious things lay frothing under the cover of night. It was up to individuals like him -[ Exorcists ]- to keep these entities under control and out of the public eye.

Because not only were the things that went bump in the night real, they also clearly wanted you dead.

[His appearance at the onset of arrival to Twisted Wonderland after giving the rather sketchy Headmage of Night Raven Collage his working pseudonym "Alex White". Don't be fooled by his gentle looks, he's an absolute feral opossum of a man.]

"Did you know that both [ blood & salt ] make a very versatile base for talismans and other such anti-magical warding items? No? Well pay attention now, it seems like that you're about to receive a practical demonstration."

(As demonstrated in the image above talismans are just one of the many tools of the trade that he hefts around with him to carry out his various jobs. Such items include:

A [ Magitool Hammer ] {found in one of Ramshackle Dorm's locked storage rooms and while initially intended as a multitool for the production of furniture and various repairs it was later repurposed as a weapon for self defense.}

[ Salt Encrusted Gloves ] {While they originally were an ordinary pair of gloves, upon modification through the hammer they can now serve a mean punch toward any unruly specter.}

[ Refillable Hidden Knife Set ] {Yet another item produced by the versatile magitool. These are used for both self defense and to carve wards onto various surface around both the Dorm and NRC in general. White also keeps several squirreled away on his person just in case he has a need to draw blood for any sort of reason. Not like any one would believe you if you dared mention it; they're just so small after all and the poor thing is unable to cast even the simplest spell! So how much of a threat could they really be?}

[ The Ghost Camera ] {Fell in love with the Fatal Frame vibes and may or may not have named it after the Camera Obscura.}

[ Château de Vainglory ] {A revolver pistol crafted in secret with the magictool and then tucked away in the depths of White's secret bunker for worst case scenarios. This becomes relevant later on.}

These and other assorted items that he's acquired from his stay in Twisted Wonderland are kept squirreled away in his Secret Bunker ((which is really just the old storage room that he's repurposed into a sort of anti-magical bolthole/panic room that's been warded to high hell)) because when dealing with the supernatural you can never be too careful after all.)

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(The hidden bolthole was decided upon as a must have even before White's unfortunate first run in with the resident spectral entities but this decision was only cemented upon as an absolute necessity when the man somehow managed to stumble headfirst into a live demonstration of the local Overblot phenomena.

You see, Overblotting is the magical equivalent of becoming a malicious type of spiritual entity when you're still alive through the process of putting an overwhelming amount negative energy directly on one's magic. If not treated succinctly an Overblot victim can die and become a full blown Phantom which is a essentially a magic-based Revenant.

((Revenants are the product of when a nonmagical person dies and undergoes a corruption similar to Overblotting due to overwhelming negative energy and were in fact the primary foe in which Exorcists had to contend with back in White's old world.))

Healthy magic users under normal circumstances usually have a base blanket immunity to the process of Overblot which has the added effect of making ghostly possessions rare but on the off occasion an outright malicious spirit does manage to latch ahold of a magic being it can result in a Bogeyman ((Phantom-Based)) or a Poltergeist ((Revenant-Based)).

However as non-magical folk are lacking this basic protection it can make them the more likely targets of a possession by either sort of spiritual entity with resulting machinations of a Revenant giving rise to a Ghoul ((which feeds on the individual's energy until poor soul's entirety is eventually corrupted giving rise to another Revenant)) or a Lich ((in which the individual's possession by a Phantom results in them being used as a fuel source and potentially being subsumed.)) To give an fortunate example of a near disastrous miss, there was White's introduction with the Ramshackle Ghosts. Due to his presence at the campus the spirits ((who had admittedly been allowed to fester for way too long and were teetering on the edge of becoming Revenants themselves)) naturally assumed that White had the selfsame protection that all magic users possessed and acted on such assumptions despite the reality of the matter being the exact opposite case. White, however, confident in his assertion that if these spirits did by chance manage to possess him then it would undoubtedly have done irreparable harm did what one who possessed a hard-earned fighting instinct garnered from a lifetime of having his very soul put on the line would do.

He dodged.

And with that ring of the bell began a long familiar dance with death for the fair-haired man, albeit with a slightly more noticeable bit of fire this go around courtesy of his new cat-like companion.

The situation was eventually handled ((through a bit of thorough explanation on Crowley's part and perhaps some promises of gratuitous violence and hastily crafted warding talismans on White's behalf once the Headmage had left)) and the ghosts eventually seemed to get the memo and settle down and begrudgingly let bygones be bygones.

Even if the whole deal did kind of piss him off.)

{For theoretical (and probably canon divergent) storyline featuring White that I'm tentatively dubbing the [ Eclipsing Phantom Arc ] it would most likely be set in a nebulous timeframe somewhere along the lines of late fall or early winter just after a heavy snowfall for peak dramatic effect. We'd get to see in this wholly original (and totally not inspired by the Castlevania Aria/Dawn of Sorrow Duology) tale of just why this feral possum man is the way he is in this.}

So to set the scene for things to come it would start like this: one of the History of Magic teachers would be up at the podium lecturing about the historical significance of the upcoming Crimson Moon Eclipse and the traditional association between the various celestial bodies in retrospect to magic as it is known today, and then we cut to White who had been listening in just outside the door with a thoughtful expression on his face as he did his job as a school janitor.

Grim, who (being the unhelpful menace that he was) had already decided that cleaning was a waste of his time and was currently lying sprawled out on the once spotless tile, had noticed the other's distant look and naturally asked what's up.

"Oh, nothing." The albino answered with his characteristic evasiveness. Clearly unsatisfied with that non-response, cat monster continued to pester him until he admitted, "I was just reminiscing is all." Seeing Grim's expectant expression somewhat reluctantly continued, "Just before I ...arrived... here there was total eclipse where I was at, is all."

Jumping at the bit to learn more about his enigmatic roommate Grim prodded further but was unable to get another word from the reluctant man by the time the bell interrupted him signifying that the lecture was over.

White moved to collect the cleaning items so he could put them away and get out of the hallway before the throng of students leaving class up and swept him away. He even manages to make it halfway there before he is suddenly accosted by some random underclassmen.

Now if it were a normal day White would instantly be suspicious of these random teenagers accosting him but he had admittedly not been having the easiest time sleeping lately —what what with how bad things had been with the Overblot Epidemic recently and the continually mounting stress from not only having to play some sort twisted battle therapist for everyone (despite being not even remotely qualified to be a school counselor) but also having to deal with Crowley's stark unwillingness to give him anything but the barest scraps to use as resources– and it was starting to wear him down so naturally he managed to miss their malicious smirks and mischievous snickers denoting the most likely ill intentions. But just as they began to tug him off to the side and away from the more populated halls just who should round the corner but resident Heartslabyul prankster Ace Trappola and his (fellow associate? Ally through extended circumstance?...Friend? Fuck, he'd really have to figure that whole situationship out at some point or another) Deuce.

Naturally when they caught sight the elusive campus cryptid seemingly chatting it up these unfamiliar students Ace, of who could readily admit to having had a mischievous streak the size of the Schoenheit's wardrobe immediately wanted to know what was up.

Perhaps it was some students who needed help cleaning (boring) or maybe they had heard of the man's infamous hammer and just wanted to see it in action (slightly less boring) or perhaps there was some kind of prank afoot?

(And while the red-head was suitably distracted with his musings he also wound up missing the sheer maliciousness glee positively radiating from the group of upperclassmen, however his friend Deuce most certainly did not.)

So with a quick jab to the side that the other was brought back to reality and the duo unanimously chose to (not so subtly) follow.

They watched as the boys managed manhandle him into an empty lecture hall. Darting in before the door fully shut and quickly ducking behind one of the seats on the upper row, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust because for some reason it appeared as though the lights had been switched off and, strangely enough, a spell cast to block the light incoming from the windows as well. All in all a suspiciously dark room that only further gave credence to the red-head's prank theory.

Suddenly a single dim light flickered into being surround the hall's small dais. It's presence illuminating both the fair-haired man (who had somehow managed to make his way down the rickety flight of stairs without stumbling once) and the shadowy figure crouching at the edge of the stage with their back to them.

Judging from the quiet snickering from either sides of them, was it another underclassmen perhaps?

As the light seemed to flicker for a second before brightening again as the figure stood up and turned a r o u n d...

Only to reveal a {mirror image} of the waif-like man?

The lookalike faced his doppelgänger with blank expression that that seemed to flicker in time with the light before slowly twisting into a smirk.

(Even in the near-dark it's hard not see the way White's body seems to freeze and while they might not have been able to catch the albino's expression at this angle it seems that the fiery feline at his side did. And if whatever he'd seen was enough to make the normally boisterous feline seem almost genuinely petrified? Then the elder of the Heartslabyul duo thought that it did not bode well at all.)

The figure seems to open it's mouth as if to make a derisive comment but the moment it does the light appears to flicker and cut out once more only to come back on a second later, just in time for them to catch sight of White's magitool hammer slamming straight into a face that mirrored his own. With the force of the blow sending the doppelganger sprawling to the floor they didn't have time to process this abject turn of events before he was upon the fallen man, hammer poised above his head for the next swing. A look of utter terror etched across doppelgänger face as the hammer smashed into it's head and magic binding it to this world fractured and broke apart.

Spell broken, the lights flickered on and the shadowed hold on the windows released allowing for sunlight to filter back into the room. Yet a lone shadow remained, and it was currently standing center stage before them cutting a mighty figure as he bore the weight of the kill with a discordant calm. White-blonde hair shown around his crown like an ethereal halo as the older man slowly tilted his head back to bask in the light.

Before he had even realized it he had pushed himself up from his crouch and left the safety of his hiding spot, ignoring the red-headed teen's startled hiss. "...White?"

The muted sound of his voice seemed to do the trick. White blinked out of his trance, his head snapping to the dark haired teen. Wide grey eyes raked over his form before turning to the grey-furred monster clutching at the edge of the dais as if for dear life. His gaze fell to the magitool tightly clutched in a trembling hand as he evidently realized what he'd done. Everything was still for moment before he twisted on his heal and bolts forward straight out the open window.

"Ah wait-!"

Dead silence.

"Ah man, how lame was that?"

...Huh?

"Yeah, I thought it'd be something a bit more interesting."

What?

"Ugh, you probably just cast the stupid spell wrong and that's why it went off the rails like that. It's ex umbra in mala somnia not ex umbra in mala speculum genius."

What.

A harsh snicker, "But did you see the look in the Mirror Shadow's face? What a riot! That would've been so much funnier if the original had been like that but y'know how it is."

Excuse me?

A shrug, "I mean, it'd make sense wouldn't it? The lack of magic would definitely thrown something off. Or maybe I guess it could've just been because he's a little freak."

What.

Various noises of agreement echoed around the room to the pair's rising bafflement as the other upperclassmen decloaked themselves, evidently having been there the whole time. But it was that final comment that cinched it for them.

"I'm sorry, but can someone explain to me what the actual fuck that what was that supposed to be?" The red-head shoved himself up from behind the seat where he had hid, a deep scowl etched into the teen's face.

"...Um. A prank? Dude, where did you even come from???"

"From the door." He retorted with an exasperated roll of the eyes and if he weren't so pissed right now he would have laughed at the other's flatfooted expression as they sputtered like the dumbass they were. But at least it gave him a moment to think which was good because, honestly, he had been just seconds away from doing…something not very nice.

He lifted a hand to stop the oncoming headache and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sorry, I'm trying to make sense of this but what kind of bullshit prank involves a group of people luring someone in to a secluded room casting something like that on them?"

"Hey, yeah!" Grim, who had remained fixed at the edge of the dais seemed to bristle, forked tail swishing irritably as his claws flexed. "What even was that anyway?!"

Deuce glanced at the red-head as well because, even though it pained him to admit, he had not done too well on the last generalized curse exam and currently was taking remedial lessons to make up the credit. But even someone like him could tell by the way it had been phrased as well as the irritated expression plastered across his face that it couldn't have been good.

He looked uncomfortable as he explained, "It's a type of paralysis spell; it uses darkness to knock a person out while they're still awake and then trap them in a loop of fear and nightmares until they either break from it themselves or someone else cancels the spell for them."

"Oh." He processed that for a second and when the ball dropped rounded on the other upperclassmen, hands digging into the lapels of the nearest one's uniform. "Dude! What the fuck?!"

"...Okay I know this looks bad but it was just supposed to be a prank, honest! We were just were going to knock him out, steal his stuff and set it on fire, then draw rude things on him before trying him to one of the light poles outside. I mean, until the loser tossed himself out a window." A pause. "Huh, it really does sound bad when you put it that way."

One of the others palmed their face with a groan as both of the underclassmen (and Grim) seemed to process this statement with thunderous expressions. "...You really aren't helping our case man."

"Stow it ah—"

"Hey!"

"Watch the shirt, watch the shirt!"

"I'm gonna do worse than ruin your stupid shirt you-"

"Hey you dolts!" Grim cut across with a plume of flame as he huffed, "'He just tossed himself out a window.'" Met with blank stares he growled, stomping a foot down and waving a frantic grey-furred paw at the open window. "Aren't we on one of the highest floors right now?" They ruminate on this for a second this before the ball dropped.

"Oh shit White!"

"Hey, wait for me!"

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Well, good news he wasn't dead.

Bad news, he was about to be if he didn't do something within the next five seconds.

'Damn it, not again.' He thought with a slight grimace.

Seriously, who was his bloodline cursed by for him to live such an interesting life as this? When he finally did manage to die (and somehow didn't manage to become a Revenant in the process) he wanted to have some words with them.

He twisted himself midair, giving an about face to the vibrant blue as gravity dragged him into a freefall; hard grey eyes narrowed as they scanned the area. Searching for...

...there!

Target locked, he swung the magictool as hard as he could with the silent prayer that it's area of effect took hold. A beat. Then two. As the ground drew ever nearer in it's encroach he felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck until finally he could feel near imperceptible charge of the item as it latched onto his intent. He didn't even have time for a halfhearted mental cheer before the near magnetic force yanked him back toward the tower with its rapidly changing stonework.

With mere seconds to work with, he flipped the hammer into a two-handed grip and allowed the velocity to carry him along the makeshift slingshot around the tower until the stone could no longer withstand his weight and collapsed taking him with it. He was deposited roughly onto the slick stone and almost immediately began to slide along a slanted tile roof.

From there it was only through a combination of some admittedly bullshit reflexes and a thankfully recalled lesson that included the history and location of every single gargoyle installed on campus (thank you Sir Pointy-Horn, you weird rock-obsessed fae bastard) that he was able to catch himself on the edge of the building and prevent his impulsive self-defenestration attempt from reaching its logical end.

The rest of the path down was a breath of relief in comparison, with parkour skills only slightly hampered by the ache in his limbs from where they had been nearly pulled from their sockets (he had worked with much worse this was nothing) so he still made it down in record time.

'And hopefully they wouldn't mind the alteration to the school's decor too much.' He thought as he crab-walked across a window ledge, stopping once he reached a suitable expanse of hedges before unceremoniously dropped down with an undignified flail into the not-to-soft greenery. 'Ah geez, I hoped no one saw that.'

"...White???"

(Someone saw it.)

Slowly, he turned around and who should he see but the Housewarden of Scarabia Dorm and possibly one of the most excitable boys he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. (Oh and it seemed Jamil was here too because of course he was.)

He could already see the awed sparkle in the taller boy's eyes as he bounced on his heels as well as the absolutely dumbfounded look on his minder's face and felt the creepings of dread run down his spine.

"That was amazing!!!"

...Fuck.

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"Where is he?!"

"I don't know, he'd probably have wound up somewhere around here."

"You don't think-"

"Wait, I think I see him!...Is that Kalim?"

"And you'd just have to do some sort of an acrobatics routine as part of the display, maybe we could work in a whole black-and-red astronomical theme because of the eclipse? Oh but the parade grounds outside of our dorm is kind of flat aren't they so that wouldn't really work but, ah! What about your dorm? It's got all those rickety edges and stuff for an added flare of danger plus we never really get to hang at your place, it'd be really fun! Say, is it really haunted like they say-"

"..."

"..."

"...White? Um, what-?"

Taking note of the approaching teens the short albino shot them his equivalent of a pleading look as Kalim obliviously continued to chat his ear off. How had things even come to this anyway? One moment he was being grilled by the boy about his previously unknown proficiency in the art of parkour and the next he had been treated to a full-frontal blast of Typhoon Kalim.

He'd just been trying to deflect the commentary by asking him what book he had in his arms there, but Kalim had somehow took it as an invitation to not only infodump about tonight's Crimson Moon Eclipse (which evidently was named so because of a once-in-a-millennium comet running interference between the seasonal red moon and their world or something to that effect) and what he learned about it from their most recent lesson but to go full-steam ahead and invite himself along to the viewing party he so graciously convinced (coerced) him into having back at the Ramshackle Dorm.

The newcomers had a hard time fighting back a snicker or two at the sheer absurdity of the event at least until Al-Asim finally noticed them.

"Oh? Hello! Have you all come to help us with the party tonight?"

The laughter stopped immediately. The elder of the trio flailed his hands in front of himself, as if to ward off the very notion. "Ah...no we-"

(The quiet force of Jamil's { glare } was something to contend with. After all it was a known law of the universe that Kalim's whims shan't be denied lest ye poor unfortunate souls suffer dire consequences.)

"...Uh. Sure?"

"Great!" Kalim clapped his hands together, twirling on his heel as Jamil followed behind. Those left behind shared a look as he sole adult of the group pinched the bridge of his nose with a stifled groan.

This was going to be a long day.

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And that was the story of how the four of them had somehow been roped into helping set up Kalim's party at White's dorm against the man's own wishes.

(And damn it all, he still had leaves in his hair from that godforsaken bush. He just wanted to hobble back to that nightmare of a safety inspection they called a dorm, take a shower in the very limited hot water they had here, then conk out on that threadbare mattress for the next twenty-eight hours. But was he going to get to do any of that? No. Because he now had to set up for a fucking party. What the hell? This was some next-level bullshit.)

What followed was one of the most ridiculously exasperating spy-vs-spy shit that any of them had the misfortune to experience.

On one side: Deuce & Trappola —the leaders of this whole venture and seemingly the only ones who cared enough to bother when it was first brought to their notice that something was seriously up with their resident janitor cryptid/semi-responsible adult figure in the first place– and their allies; Jamil (who was unwilling to let the earlier display go with that half-arsed explanation if only for the sake of Kalim's wellbeing), Sebek (who had just arrived with the caterers, citing the need to scope the venue out ahead of schedule for his fellow dormmate's safety), and Epel (who had honestly just came to get away from the rest of his dorm for a bit and succinctly been roped into this tomfoolery the second he set foot through the door.)

Their mission: figure out what the fuck was up with Ramshackle Dorm (and perhaps its sole caretaker by extension) without getting waylaid by various shenanigans or arousing the suspicion of the scrungly man himself.

And on the other hand, we had the aforementioned albino himself. Someone who was shanghaied into this whole mess and was now two threads away from a panic attack because of the newfound need to race around the dorm without anyone else noticing in order to collect all of his esoteric necromantic research material so that he could squirrel it away in the hidden bolthole before some poor unfortunate bastard managed to stumble upon it.

(Because, as it turned out, even in a whole ass different world where magic fuckery was commonplace and weirdness was mundane anything having to do Death and What Lied Beyond was evidentially still a step too far. Hypocrites.)

It was only a small mercy that he had managed to talk Al-Asim down from inviting everyone and their mother's dog but it seemed that he couldn't get out of having a collection of eclectic individuals such as the other Housewardens and their friends along with a small handful of others from being placed on the summons.

(Really, for those sorry beings who were either free with absolutely nothing better to do on such a dreadful night as this or selfsame others who were actively avoiding such responsibilities and decided the only way to spend the time doing so was in this OSHA violation of a place were the only ones who would even bother anyway. Maybe it was a good thing though as having a bunch of friends would make this whole stealth thing a lot more difficult for him. Besides who would really want to hang out with a grim weirdo like him? After all he's done? Plus he wasn't winning any awards for his personality after all. The idea was laughable really.)

And then there were the outliers, such as the trio from Octavinelle who had just arrived to do the catering and had yet to be involved in shenanigans but once either twin caught wind of what was going on the would assuredly join in on the chaos, or Riddle who had taken one look at the mess they were making thought the whole thing ridiculous and —after yelling at the group a bit– left to help clean up, Kalim who remained wholly oblivious to the other's antics as he continued to decorate.

And finally we had Grim, who had originally been on team investigator but got distracted halfway and decided to raid the kitchen for snacks. As one does.

('It's kind of funny...' The furred cat-beast thought to himself as he pawed futilely at the locked cabinet door that he knew White kept some salmon jerky behind. 'But, like, in a really messed up way. Does that make sense? Maybe? Eh, the ghost would probably understand. Y'know, if they were still around. Those guys would probably think the whole deal was a riot.' He growled at the makeshift child-lock, forked-tail flicking in annoyance. 'Yeah, fun guys once you got past the murder attempts. Shame they seem to be rather sparse lately. Wonder why that was?' A pointed ear twitched as he heard the service door to the kitchen open behind him, 'Who knows. Maybe White finally got fed up and made on good on those threats to exorcise them?' Blue eyes gleaming he turned on the newcomer, "Oi! Mr. Octopus, open this door for me! I want treats!")

The wisp of a man just narrowly managed to catch himself from planting face-first into the rough-shod flooring. He shut his eyes, pressing a sweaty glove-covered palm against the wall as the world swayed.

"Just keep it together." He murmured lowly, mentally shutting out the jovial sounds of teenagers at play as he slowly pathetically crawled down an adjacent hall and out of sight.

"Just keep it together-" He repeated, biting back a rush of bile as he hefted himself to his feet. "For a bit longer..." He screwed his eyes shut, letting out a breath through clenched teeth. "Then you'll be done with all this nonsense and you can rest."

(But that's the thing, he would never be done would he? There would always be some new disaster waiting in the wings to rear its ugly head. Some new Overblot Incident caused everyone and their overly uptight mothers insisting on foisting their problems on a bunch of overpowered children instead of dealing with it themselves. Some sort of *magical mishap* that needed 'his special touch' to solve; nevermind there was a number of other people who could do just as well, if not better, but were probably actually qualified to do so. Some poor soul who had finally surrendered to the darkness in their hearts and let it consume them body and soul so now he had to be one to put them down before they could hurt anyone else-)

A harsh smack to the cheek, "C'mon, get your shit together man." He hissed. "It's just a little exhaustion. This is nothing compared to back then, soldier. Don't let it get to you."

After all, to show weakness was to invite negativity into one's soul. To invite negativity into one's soul was to invite Death. And to invite Death for someone like him...

Well. The less he said the better.

"...White?" Said individual stilled. Epel's voice didn't really carry all that much, not as much as someone like Sebek's did, but honed ears could still pick up the distinct cadence of the shorter teen's masked twang over the chaotic din emanating from the Guest Room. "Hey, just to let you know: Riddle said that Trey and Cater just texted him that they still need to study for Trein's make-up exam tomorrow so they can't come tonight and that they were sorry."

"Y-Yeah?" He called back, resting his head on the wall in front on him. It felt nice and cool. (Or maybe he was overheated? He couldn't tell.) "I'll tell Azul we need two less meals then."

"Also Ace was being a dumbass and tossed Sebek's hat up on top of the chandelier and now Sebek's trying to strangle both him and Deuce for it." What. How the hell... Stupid question, magic. It's always magic.

He resisted pinching the bridge of his nose. "I see."

Well, that at least explained why the green-haired teen was being louder than usual. "I need help with getting it down? Can you c'mere?"

"Y-Yeah. I'll...I'll go grab a stick or something and be right there. Just give me a second!" He called back, a grey eye slit open and the Scheele's Green shaded wallpaper filled his vision as he stared blankly down the hall. "Yeah, sure. Just deal with it. Like you always do. After all the almighty janitor's work is never done." He tiredly let out a quiet laugh.

...Was it just him or did that laugh sound a tad bit bit hysterical?

Eh. It was probably fine.

(His work with these 'restless souls' would never truly be 'done'.)

[N ̷̢̧̧̟̬̗̋̈͜ͅé̸͉̍ ̵̡̢̫̣̯̰̹̪͇͕̅̎̇͒͂̕͠v̵̻̀̀͐̈͛̐͛̚͝͝ ̵̺͚̯̪͓̳͊͌̔͒̏ẹ̴̛̭̟͕͔̞̏̈́̓̋͂̾̕͠ ̵̼͉͍̼̅̎̐̔̇͘͘͝͠r̴̢̡̯̜̗͕̹̓͠ͅ ̷̢̧̺̙̫͉̔̐.̴̠̮̝͍̙͚̝͔̀͆̓̐̊̒̿́̊̆]

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He was three seconds away from giving in to steadily rising urge and strangling these chucklefucks. Would he be in deep shit for doing so? Yes. But it'd be worth it. Honestly, if he didn't know firsthand how chaotic teenage boys could be (having been one himself once upon a time) he could've sworn they were doing it on purpose.

It had taken them around thirty minutes and eventually just resorting to throwing random items at the chandelier but they had finally managed to get Sebek's hat down and stop the uptight kid from bringing any more ghosts into the world.

But then it was Azul's turn to inform him that Grim had somehow managed to get into the pantry (again) and proceeded to eat all of his salmon jerky (again) so he had to go scruff the little gluttonous bastard and put the recovering Tappola on Grim Watch (and for some extra insurance —with Riddle's blessing of course– Deuce was placed on Ace Babysitting Duty) while he finished with Jamil and the Octavinelle Boys in the kitchen.

Every moment he managed to finish something it seemed like someone would something else or there was something or another that need his input so he couldn't have moment's rest and (not that he would admit it) but he was very visibly beginning to flag.

One silver-lining was that —save for a single item– he had successfully managed to scoop all of his strange curios with everybody else none the wiser.

The last thing on the list being a sole lined journal, one he had dutifully scribbled in ever since he managed to snag it with his 'ruthless bartering skills' from Mr S's Limited Item Shop during his first visit to the School Store. (Though if you asked him, it was really just a glorified clearance bin but if the man himself or his spectral familiars ever heard him call it such a thing he would probably get pissed and cut his supply off and then where would he get his smoked salmon treats or the ground amethysts and unstarched linen he used to make gunpowder talismans?) The red cover of which was currently peaking out from underneath a threadbare pillow that Grim liked to use for napping.

All he needed was to find the right window to nab it and then he'd be golden. However, already an hour in and he had yet to put into practice his slight of hand, and with everyone trapezeing about it only added to the challenge. It was only by a stroke of luck that he had managed to distract the room's newest occupant —(Riddle this time; taking a much needed break from Kalim's...exceeding enthusiasm. Understandable.)– long enough for him bend down and snag it.

Quickly standing up (and nearly keeling over in the process when he overcorrected) he waved off the boy's worried exclamations with a patented placid expression as he subtly slipped the notebook into his back pocket. It was a bit disconcerting though, to be fretted over so adamantly by someone ten years his junior and he didn't quite understand just why the other so concerned about him. It wasn't a child's job to worry about the state of their caregivers, quite the opposite really, and he felt a pang of guilt for even giving rise to the very notion. It had taken him a bit of roundabout conversation and even then the red-head seemed rather reluctant to let it go at least until Kalim emerged once more from the ether to further distract his fellow Housewarden.

Other eyes occupied he drew back into the shadows before quietly edging back of the room and down the hall. Soon the soft lights grew dim and he found the chatter of excitable teenagers through thin walls muffled as he slipped through the darkness of the old dorm.

Normally with it just being Grim and himself as the sole living occupants of their Ramshackle home these rooms stood vacant and abandoned, left to collect dust as a testament to what once was a lively home now forgotten by time. But every once in an odd red moon he found himself wandering about these old bones, his presence breathing life into the place as he took solace in the solitude. This was one such occasion.

Slipping through the threshold, he carefully tugged the knob until the door clicked shut—

Silence...

–and finally all noise ceased to exist.

"Finally."

He let out a long sigh, letting his forehead come to rest on the weathered doorframe—

[O̵̻̕h̶̰̕ ̸̣̅p̸͕̽ö̶̻́o̸͙̚r̵̩̈́ ̴̥́c̶̟̽h̷̢̑i̴̤̚l̶̊ͅd̵͎̽è̸͇ ̴͕̾ȯ̴̼f̵̛̜ ̶̥̾m̷̪̔a̵̺̚n̶̠̓,̵̟̀ ̷̩̒á̵͇l̶̟̋ẁ̷̼ã̷̤ỵ̷̉ș̴̆ ̵͎͑ġ̸͍i̷̻͠v̸̦̏i̸̠͝n̶̟͑ǧ̷̰ ̴̱̈t̶͚̿h̶͉͐y̷̥̆s̸͖̎e̵͕̎l̴̍ͅf̷̗͘ ̶̤̊t̵͔͝o̸̤͠ ̸̖̀o̵̡͒t̶̯͗h̴̩̀ë̴̩́r̶̼͘s̸̻̈́ ̷̙̾b̶͔̿u̷̦͛t̷̬̑ ̵͕̌n̸̈́ͅe̴͍͐v̸̪̊e̵̫̍r̴̰̿ ̷̣̚b̵̠́e̵͔͘i̴̻̓n̷̝̋g̷̯̚ ̷̻̓g̷̬͘ì̸͙v̵̝͂e̷̡̅n̸̙͠ ̴̀ͅt̷͉̄o̷̝͋ ̸͍́i̶̲̅n̸͔̐ ̴̢͋r̵͎͗e̴̫̔t̴̥̕ú̷̘r̵͖͊n̵͈̅.̵̖̑ ̴̘̓ Y̵̫͂o̶͓̐u̷̮̎ ̷͍̋g̷̢̈ĭ̸̳v̵̝͂e̸̙̔ ̵̰̽ḁ̴̐n̵̤͛d̴̪͝ ̷͕̇y̶̟͐o̵̪̓u̵̢͌ ̶̧̾g̶̞̾ȉ̶̢v̶̀͜ě̷̜ ̵̯̒à̶̦n̶̹̓d̶͙̽ ̸̱̚y̸̝̚ō̷̱û̵̹ ̸̳̅g̴̹̾ḭ̷͗v̶̘͌e̵̖̚ ̴̢͝b̴̯͒ǔ̷̡t̸̡͠ ̵̺̀i̵͍͐t̶̹̕'̸͗͜s̴͙̍ ̷̹́n̷̮̒ę̶͆v̶̜́e̸̘̐r̸̩͛ ̴̮̈́ê̶̗ņ̵̇ơ̶̹ũ̴͜g̴͈̃ḩ̶̓ ̷͙͆í̵͙s̵̰̋ ̶̨̀ĩ̷͖t̸̛̩?̴͉̋ W̶͖͙̓̃h̷̞̖̓͌ỵ̴͂,̵͇̰͂ ̸̹̇ỹ̸̟̀ǫ̵̼̈́̆ù̸̙ ̸̭̕c̸̣̹̓̍o̸̤̅ų̴̛̄ḷ̸̰̇̓d̷̝̀̒ ̷̧͍͋̕ē̷̞̜̏v̸̜͕̌͋ȅ̴̩͍n̸͍̾ ̸͔͐͘ģ̴̧̉ì̸̝̦̓v̴͈̙̇è̴��̱ ̴̙̈́ͅy̸̙͔̽̇o̸̯̲̔û̶͉̩̕ř̷͙ ̸͈̑̅v̷͂ͅë̷͈̌ṛ̷̺͂y̶̥͎̾̈́ ̷̠̆ͅs̴̢͇͆̐ọ̷̳̔̒ū̴̟̉l̴̢͊ ̴̤͌̕a̵̼͎͌̚ṉ̸͝d̸̹̹͂ ̸͚̤̎t̴̮̞̋̉h̴͕̤̚͝ȯ̷̲͉s̴͉̎͠ě̵̜̩ ̴͇͕́͗f̷͚͕͆ó̵̯ơ̷͍͔l̴͎̈́s̷̬͇̽̽ ̴̗̱̚w̶̱̪̆́ö̶̦́̇ṷ̶̀̕͜l̴̬̥̅̓d̵̲̍̂ ̴͓̯͛̍j̵̤̑u̶̜̔͂͜s̵̼͝t̶̢̠̊͆ ̷̙̾ͅl̴̝̊̂ą̸̛p̵̩̃ ̸̨̰̒̎ǐ̴̱̾t̷̻̲̅ ̶̞̟͛u̸̺̜̇p̵̨̤̕ ̷̲͊ḽ̵̛̛ǐ̵̖͔k̶̳̳̃͗e̵͈͒ ̷͎̾f̴̦̜̋ŕ̸̘̹̓e̶̡̝̾͝s̴̖̯̽̊h̴̗͑ͅ ̴̺͔̀a̷̺̓m̸̤̓b̶̨̈́̐r̴͖̐͜ò̴͖s̴̺̎ͅi̸̩͗a̵̰̙̿̃ ̸̬̽a̵̬̹͐̎n̸̪̈́d̵̤̖͌ ̶̡̓̅ţ̸̍h̴͎̘̐e̶͎̟͌ ̴̤̎m̷̞̠̈́o̶̥̠͠m̴͗͊͜e̸͇͛̓n̸̲̂̄t̵̺͚͂͛ ̵̧̃͝y̶̗̕ọ̸̉ų̵͙̑ ̶̭̈w̸̻̉ȇ̸̗r̴̠̎e̶̖̅ ̵̹͌b̷̧̲͆l̷̟̗͠e̷͎̾͠d̸̤͉̏̓ ̴̮̘͌̐d̶̘̠̎͑r̵̪̾y̸̩͛͌ ̶̠͇̏͘t̴̞̀̈́h̷͔̟̽͑ẹ̶͕̇y̵͕͎̚ ̶̯̉̇ẘ̶̗̜̄ȍ̸͎ṵ̷͖́l̸̤̈d̸̛͎ ̷̨͚̉͆a̵̡̼͆͌ŝ̵̛̪͙k̵̹̤͝ ̷̼̭̕ẅ̵̺h̷̫̥̾e̵͈̠̾ṛ̷̳͊ȇ̴͖̚ ̵͔̌̾t̷̟̯̉h̸̞̏̊͜é̴̳ ̶̗̝͐̀ǹ̶͖e̵͈̿x̶̤̫͝t̵̜͐ ̴͚̹̒͒s̶̘͇̎ě̷̞̭͝r̸̠̲͆v̵̭͐i̴̦͕͝n̶̬͑g̵͚̦̾̋ ̵̺̾w̵̙̼͘͝á̶̤̽s̸̖͑̌.̷̞̟͠ ̷̘̑H̶̜̀ỏ̶̳w̷̖̒ ̵̫͆ṕ̴̬a̸͙͑ṱ̶̈́ḧ̴̯́e̵̞̓t̶̞́i̸̗̋c̸͕͆.̴͍̔.]

—And quickly choked on that breath.

The blood froze in his veins and he felt himself going completely still. He felt cold. That...voice. That horrible voice that continued to haunt his nightmares to this very day. He k n e w that voice. Oh, god.

And it seemed that the speaker was wasn't done.

[Ę̵͚̃̆̂v̵̹́e̸̡̛̞͝n̴̮̙̋̉̕ ̷̰̽a̴͓̝̩̎f̸͚̃͋͝t̴͔̆̏̓e̵̤̋͋̏r̸̼͔̈́ ̵̱͋̋b̷̢̛̺͔͆̇r̸̗͙̠̿͘ǐ̶̞̫̒͜ǹ̴̺̈́g̴͈̥̽i̶͍̺͛͐n̴̤̋̑̽g̵̫̉͌̚ ̴̨̭̉b̵͓͚̖͝á̸̝̔̍c̸͉͛̏ḱ̶͉̂͜ ̵̱̜̈͐t̷̫̝̟́̑h̶̡̯̮͆̐ő̷͓͘s̷͔̄́͝ė̵̩̝͙̂ ̶͈̕s̵͛͘��̡͓c̷̞̟͌o̶̻̼̎ͅr̵͚̪̺͐̀̇n̷̹̹͐ȩ̶̔d̶̢̯͖͝ ̶͖̀͜ÿ̸͍͇͂̀ọ̶̼̟̆̽u̷̘̼̒̈́ͅț̷̈́̕ḧ̵̨͉́̔̀͜ ̴̯̪̈́f̵̯̯̓́r̴͚̗͝o̷̼̽̑m̵̛͕̺ ̸͉̂t̵͎̟͈͐ȟ̷̝̥͊̿e̴̛͙̮ ̸̢̤̌̌̉b̴͕͝r̴̲͚̆í̸̢̻n̷̗͌̄̈́k̵̢̅́ ̸̓̍ͅṱ̸͛h̷̨̤̍a̷̳͌t̴̡̰͂̓̆ ̸̫͎̻́̒̈t̶̯̆͝͝h̸̰̜̔̑̿e̵͖̣͘ͅy̶͈̦͑̌̄ ̸̹͈͗͌t̶̟̝̒̏̾h̸̡̑͑̓e̶͎͕͍̒m̶̟̰͆̚ŝ̷̗̬͑͌ę̷̘̟̎l̷̖̼̆̎͒v̵̘͔̭͌e̸̞̫̅̚s̴̩̋ͅ ̶̛̺͕̣́̏r̷̞̟̙̿ë̷̥̬̯̀ű̷̥̠̞ṣ̷̛̭̄͠e̷̗͙̓̊͒d̸̫̔ ̵̪̋̄t̴̘̼̭̀̓̍o̵̫͌͘ ̷̜̟̪̓d̸̲̹̮͒o̵̳͊ ̵̮̇̈ș̷͓̽̈́̄o̷̲̩̫̎̎ ̴͈̬͋͘͜͠h̸̗̀̿͐ọ̷͇͍̅w̷̳̒̑ ̵̲̠͆͜d̵̬̤̣̑̀͛ȯ̷̩̞͋̈ ̷͇̯̱̓̚͝t̶͓̲͝h̸̬̝͛̔̚ͅê̸͇̣̾̊y̵͇̙̋̋ͅ ̴̯̄͑r̵̨̡̫̓̀̍e̶̞̺̘̋͂w̶̦̋͐a̶͎̚r̵̠̫͋d̸̢͇̈́̃͐ ̵̯̬͙̉̐̾y̴͚̿͝ṓ̴̢͉̟ù̸͓̔͑?̶̟̝̐̆͝ Ẃ̶̧̜͈̲̣̀ĩ̸͔̰̬ţ̵̟̱̘̳̄̈́̈́̀̑̽h̵̡̲̲̉́̓ ̸̡̹̘̘̪̎̀̃͠t̷̳̑̃̒̀̎h̵͙̤͖̮͉̳́̍̄͗͠i̷͍̜̓̈̚͘s̴̟̭̳̲̗̈́́̎̈̕ͅ ̶̯͓̞͖͎̤̂t̶̩͉̩̯́͊̍͝͝h̵̬̿̈̀͘r̸̡̢̮̞̎͆́e̸̟̽a̸̡̢̹̩͍̚d̸̨̈́̅b̸̡̼̳̿̎͊̍̒͘ͅa̵̡͔̭͎͛͆̀͆̐̚ŗ̸̟͉͔̑̇̔͌͝͝e̵͇̪̱̣̾͛͛͌ͅ ̵̻̅̃̀̚ͅh̷̼̘̓̀̉͐͑ọ̵̡̞͓͓͂̉̚͠v̸͔̺̗̯͇͗̿̍͠e̶̺̼͆̍l̸̹͗̆ ̸̧̰̬̠̹͑̈̒̿a̸̢̢̨̝̔͑̿͊̾̍n̶̛͔̻͑̾̈́̒d̶͖̈́̒̑̅ ̷̨̩̣̀̾̈́̾̓̕s̷̤̾̀̑͋̃̓e̸̞̲̞̥̖̪̽̈́̇c̴̢̺̻̣͙̹̈̽ǫ̴̰̜͍̓̈̚n̴͈̞͎͖͂̽͗̏͝d̷̨͓̭̬̱͂͊-̷̠̠̈́̓̑̋̕h̵̯̲͔̒̉̌̿a̸̠͑n̷̲̭̮̱̜̊͂ͅd̷̲̽̓̓́͠ ̵̻͌͊s̸̼̻̯̑͒̓͠ͅũ̷̠͓̘̞͌̄p̷̛͕͈͈̱͕͛̂̉͋ṕ̸̯̀l̴̨̦̮͆͗̆̒̆́i̴͚̘̥̿ê̷̦͂s̴͍̟̔͜͝ ̶̨̹̍͌͜t̷̫̒̓̍̀́͝ȟ̸̼͘͠ǎ̵͈͛̒͝t̵̖̣̲̓͑̕͜ ̶̡͉̙͓͋̑͒y̷̮͊̕ọ̷̧̮̦͂́͒̌͝ų̶̹̟̱̋̑͒͝ ̵̰̓͂́͌́̌h̸͚̪̼͕̜͚̑̌̑͂͂a̶̞̬̾̈́̐̌̓̄v̵̦̮̼̽̽͛̾͘͜e̵̺̦͎̰̭͉̕ ̷̱̃̊̽̈͠ẗ̷̪̰̥̮̳̭̆̽͐̔ǒ̸̻̳̚͜ ̷̢͎̞̠̥̾ͅf̸̮̬̃́ĭ̴̢̩̲̍̾́g̵̤̥͈͐h̶̡̹̲͔̞̺̋̃t̷̯̀͆̓̚ͅ ̵͔̃͊̒̔t̶̢͠͝ͅo̸̼̜͋͂ȍ̵̘̜̲̯̙̉ṫ̸̤̬̞̠͊̀̆̐͝ḩ̶͈̑͑͜ ̶͖̔̑͑͑a̵̛̹̮͍̤͌̈́́͝n̵͕͙̎̆̒̇ḑ̷̼͍̗̩͛̓̌̕ ̵̢̡̻̻͖͇͊̊͋͌̊n̶̟̜̻͎̮͒à̷̡̬̝͆͆̈́͘ï̶̡͇͇̞͑͊̓̏ͅl̵̡̼̱͒͂̀͂ ̴̅̀͒͜t̸̮̟̬̑̈́͝͝ȏ̶͉̮̘͇͉̒̿̐͐̆͜ ̶̧̗̝̖̮͓̊̾̕ģ̸̱̭̩̾̃̀̒͘͜e̸̡̗͗t̶̞̘͎̾̿̓̎ ̶͓̈̔̔͗͜͝f̷̥̻̲̓̾̈̌̒̚r̶̹̻̲̹̱̆̆̀̉ȏ̴̩̥̮̠̫́̾̾̐ͅm̷̛͐͑͐̚͜͝ ̶̧̥̮̬̰̜̈́́̚t̴͔̭̯͍͎̣̂̿͝͝h̵̩͉͇̓̄̓͘a̶͉̮͛͆̓̈̊̚t̴̝͓̩̑́̅̚͜ ̴̩̮̜̊̽̉̈́ȍ̷̧̥̤̼͙̅̑̆̍ͅl̶̡͍̞̱͙̻̎̓̾̽̚d̴̩̞̂̀̃̽̈́ ̶̹̂̌͋c̸̨͍͎͕̀̂̎ớ̶̠̪͜r̴̜͙̳̒v̵̛̞̭̗̗̳̀́̿̀̽í̵̫d̵̻̲̔͛̈́͗̚?̵̻̥̬͉̦̣͊͋̃͠͠ Ẃ̵̱̟͕̻̈́ͅi̴̡̿͠t̴̲̆ͅh̴̯̰̉̀̾͝ ̴͔̭̳̄͒͑b̶̼̗̝̽̂͝ḷ̴͇͚͈̪̍a̸̬̳̠͉̾m̶̦̦͙͐͌̒͂e̷̪̬̮̮̼̒̿͐̈́ͅş̴̺͓̙̺̘̉͂̐̔ ̸̨̟̬̹̥̒̓̽̒̒͛͜a̷̺͚̟̒̎n̸͕̬̖͛̓̒͊d̸̡̨͎͖̣͈̽ ̴͕̟̈̌̓a̶̪̥̒̄c̵̨͎̺̬͒̆̉c̸̺̯̙͉̋ͅu̶̹͖̟̬̯̎͗̾͗͌͝s̶̜̗͗̊̋á̸̠͎̹̥͉͚͊͋̅͝͝t̵̢͓͈̙̥̫̊̔̅ỉ̵̤͕͓̈́̈́o̴͍̯̼̞̤̅̒̾͘ņ̵͕̞͉̩̽̈́̚ ̵̦̎͝͝t̷̥̱̟̓ḩ̷̥͍͓̅͑͒͠e̸̙͂̓̽̚͘ ̸̮̥̩͓͓̣̀̊͐̃͂̚v̷͙̣́̀̆̑̈e̷̠̪͎̱̋͌̓̊͠ŗ̸̹̙̥̥̤̀́̂͋̈́͝y̵̨̺͈̟̝͉͊̊ ̷̬̃͝m̸̗͔͛͌̕ỏ̶͎͖̪͈̏m̵͈̱̿͛̇̉̄̽ẽ̷̢̱̇̕͝n̷͙̳̎̃͂͠t̸̛͍̻̅̀ ̴̰̮̂̐t̷͎̳̥̬͓̒̿̀̕ͅh̶̡̡͉̿̓̽̉í̸̧̨̞̲̜̼̅n̶̺̖̭̣̾͛g̷͔̥̤͗͆̐͝s̵͇͖͚̱̯͓̀͛̃̿͌ ̶̙̃ĝ̵͍̦͙͚o̶͇͛͛ ̵͕͛̓̔w̵̡̞͈͕̎͐̾͒̓r̴̨̡͈̜̈̋̂ō̴̫͖̰̻̫̪̋n̶͚̹͒͊̋́̾g̶͕̎͗̈́͂̕ ̷̫̓͗͊̽e̷̘̟̥͎̓́̅̈́̚v̶̡̦̀͌ę̴̰̻͙̊̐̾̄̾͠n̷̦͍̩̗̻̐͋͐̕͘ͅ ̸͈͎̠̠̯̞̀̃̏͠͝í̴͔̥͈̰̿̌̕͠͝f̷͍͖͗̈́̅̈́̅͘ ̸̇ͅȳ̷̼̤̹͕̬̆̇̍ơ̵̝͐̃̑̔͜u̴̞̖̘̟͒̈́̅̋͋͗ ̸̘̪̟̤͊̾̋͑̚͝ͅh̵̙͉͈̲̮̉͗̄̕ḁ̶͉͔̇v̵̜̥̰̳̈́̉ẹ̷̱̲̱̘̾ ̵̳͂̅̒͝n̵͓̉̋̓͝ͅȯ̵̹͓̳͒̀̐̕ ̴̎͐̒ͅh̸̡̝̹̜̜͚̓͌͑͠ȁ̵͍̜͍̖̭͙͛̏̀ṋ̶͈͌͋͊͌̎d̵̰̲̕ ̴̩͔̟̮̩͌̄̿͐̊́i̸̝͖͚͌ņ̶̛̟̫͈͍̦͐̀͐͝ ̷̨̧͈̪͕͉͗̌̈́͒̈́͠ṱ̸͈̽̉̅̽̾ḧ̵̦̖̥̹̬͕́̃̔͒̕̕ȩ̷̯̝̪̟͕͆̀̐̄̚ ̴̺̈́m̷̟̩͝ä̶̡͙͈̺̱͛̎͘t̵̘̙͚͍̖͛͆̈́̄̈́̚t̸́��͈̣̓ĕ̸̤̬̖̻͚̠̊̀̐r̴̞̦̿́̾͌̉̕?̸̟͚͕̜̣͌̈́͂̚͘͠]

Now that...that wasn't fair. Not everyone around there was like that! What of the children he had helped during his stay in this strange phantasmagorical world. Of the lives he had managed to twist for the better?

What of the group of boys who through their many shared trials and tribulations he had (perhaps a bit one-sidedly) come to regard as his own. The kids who had went out of their way just to include him and were waiting for him to come downstairs so they could finally start their impromptu party.

[A̴̼͜͝n̷̦̽́d̴̻̀ ̸̮̠̿̚w̵̡̝̑h̸̫̞͑à̸̹̒t̶̞̞͝ ̸̡̮͆o̶̫̔f̸̯̈̓ͅ ̷̘̊́t̶͎̪̓̉h̶̟͆̏ĕ̶̗̜͒ ̴͚͒o̸̮͈͝t̶͍́ĥ̵͈ĕ̵̡͉̂r̵̭̺̄s̶̛̝?̷͇̻̐̄ F̸̭̈́ơ̴̳ṙ̸̞̟̕ ̴̡͌̕e̵̲͚̿v̷̯̉ḛ̵̰̍̈́r̵͕͈̈́ÿ̸͓́ ̴̼͔̽̈́ğ̶͉́o̸͎͕̐ḽ̸̲͐d̴̜̳̃e̷̺̳͆͝n̶̝͈͆͘ ̴͍̈́̉k̷͈̆̀e̷̢̻͠r̷̮̈́n̷̳̫̄̽ȇ̴͈̺l̸̥̯̀ ̷̮̻͒̕o̷͉̦̓f̴̧͓̊̇ ̶̛̰ẃ̶͇͝ẖ̶́̄è̶̢̥̀ä̴̘̥́͆t̵̳͘ ̷͕͖̽t̸̤͘̚h̴̤̽͠ã̵̺̀t̶̡̙̽ ̶͍̜̏̀é̵̠x̸͚̳̓i̶̩̱̍͛s̷͎̯̀̉ţ̶̲̃ ̸̡̻̀̏a̶̛͍̮͛ ̸̮̄́d̶̮̑͋ơ̸̙z̷͚̑ͅe̵̬̯̚ñ̴͎̙ ̸͕̀r̴͇̎̐a̵͎̕͠t̸̢̲͠s̷͓̼̊̚ ̸̤̙̃l̸̖̘͛a̸̺͓̓͋y̷̲͍̋ ̴̺̓ĭ̵̢̢͂ṋ̵̦͑ ̴̤͛̿w̴̖͗͆͜a̴͐͐ͅi̷͖͇͑͑t̵͙̫͗̅ ̸̥͕̃t̴̬̔́ò̷̦̺̎ ̸͎̓ḟ̷͜e̶̝͛a̸̠̓s̸̛̼͘ͅt̵̜͋̚ͅ ̸͎͈̀̈ơ̴̭̕n̵͉̾͘ ̶̣̦̐̕ṭ̶̂h̴̯͉́̄ẹ̸̳̓ ̴̫̱̄g̶̛̗̟͝ŗ̶͛a̶͎͛̏i̸̯͑͗n̷̲̜̊.̸͕͇̐. Ņ̸̛̪͎̥̞̦̲̄̃̓̃̑̀͐̍̀͗̅͛̿͘͠e̶̛̥̞̗͖̭̲͙̭̱̝͋̒͒͗̓̑̓̇́̉͐͒͑͝ë̴̢̥͕̹̺̪̓̀͊̿̈̚̕ͅd̸̜̲̪͖͖̲͉̺͌͊̓͗́̉̂̕ ̵̢̢̛͉͔̂̈́̇́͒̅̿̓͗̈̃͒Ȉ̵̭̫͔͗̉̚ ̸̨̯͖͕̜̭̭̪̟̍͒̆̃̋̓̏͛̇̐̈̌͆̑͠r̴̢̫̟̣̩̜͔̠͕̺̘͋͛̊͂͑͜e̸̡̛̱̯͍̣̬̥͎̤̬͆͌̌̾̍̓̅͒͗͘͜͜m̴͉̠̯̮͓̪͖̻͎̫͕̼̍̽͊̾̿́̀̉̎̂̕͝͠͠į̸͕͖̬̼͙͉͇͍̲̯̖̱̅̈́͛̓̌́̾̅̑̈͐͒͘͠n̷̛̖̝̞͎̤̲̼̫͛̈́͛̑̈d̴͕͖͎̠̦̹̭͚̭̒̓͌͊̃̿͜ͅ ̸͉̼̗̦̣͉̝͚̰̠͚̝̥̙̋͊́̂̌̾͐̃̎̿̀̽̚͜ȳ̵̡̨̨̛̟̞̫͖̣̞̦̺̫̫͚̔̂̀̅̅͂̽̑̒͋́̄͂̈ơ̴̧͇̳̻̬̝̰͉̪̙̠̳̇́̐͒́̔̑́̅̂̈́̄̆̔̕ͅü̸͇͗̂̾̊̈́̅̓̓̌̑͂̓͋͘ ̸̧̱͕̗͎̜̩̐̿̒̍́͊̈́̌͒ő̷̧͈̭̻̦̗̞̰͕̺͗̽̌̈́͊̔̀̈́̈̃̚͜ͅf̷͍̦̘̓ ̷̧̥̜̗̱̏̃̀̓j̷̯̣͚̠̞̬̠̫̖̘̮͊̋̿̒̽͒̓́͂͒͌̚̚͝û̷̢̙̳͇͎̩̲̰̤͔̞͖̩̫̈́́͜ͅͅş̵̻̺͖̮̻̑̓̍̉̐̿̀̔͂̈́̌̿͒͘̚͘͠t̴̯̞̜͉̬̰̿̊͛̒̎̈͋́̒͜ ̴̗̩̥͒̿͆̍̌̇̌͝͝t̵̰͔͈̿̽͋̔͒̆͒̔͘̕͠ĥ̶̛̩͉̜̹̦͉̮̄́͑̈́̐͂̓͒̔͠i̸̺͙͕̍̅̽͂̓̆̌͠ş̸̛̣̦͕̞̭̖̦̰̪͎̱̝̀̀͊̔̎͒̈́̍̽̂͋̈́̚ ̷̡̖̠̭̬̦͍̞͊͊͌́̉̽̅̑́͝ͅm̴̢̞͙̠̰̼͇̰̑̃̽̀ơ̵̠͇͔̗͓̣̖̑́̎̿̈́̓̽͂͐̑̓̕̕r̸̛͎̺̱͇̺͈̮̳̺̟̥̙̯̙̭̪̾̓̆͛́͊͐̾ń̶̨͇̩̗̪̯̫͇͚̲̼̦͚͗͂̆͐͆̋̃̅̔̒̈́̏͌͝ḯ̶̞̍̓͌̎̚n̵̛͔̟̝̎̍̌͑̈̍̑̽́͆͑̚͠g̵̗̦͍͇̫̫̬̲͒̾̾̎͒̔̑̈́͒̀͗̈́̇̀̀͘͝��̘̪̤͉̣̳̼͜?̸̛̩̻̓̾̍͐͛͗̇͊̎͒͛͠ Ơ̷̼̟̏̓f̵̪̋ ̶̗̙̒t̴̗̱̬̀̄͑h̷̢̥͐e̶͈̓ ̷̦͌͗̓ã̵̼̮̀͒ṫ̶͇t̵̹̹̣̒͛̚ḙ̵͈̾̔̀m̸̨̡̛̞̀p̵͍͂ţ̷̱͛͑̄s̴̡͔̜̓̃ ̵̛̹̄͝t̵̹̫̓͂o̶̺̔͊ ̵̗͖̾̏̈́e̴̮͕̪̓̈́̕x̷̻̻̊́e̴̙͊̎r̶̡̡̈́̈́̕ţ̸͚̳̃ ̵͙̽̄͐t̶̻̪͛̈́͗ḧ̵̫̗́̑̿e̵̯̞͂̆̈́ỉ̶͈̅ͅȓ̵̛̤̺̙͝ ̸̢̒̾͝p̵̞̬̽ē̶̻r̴̘̀͛͜c̸̩̠̑̉̄e̶̞͉͌̅î̶̺̠͖͑v̵̗͙̰̋̑e̶͉̺̒̓͊d̷̳͝ ̶̛͔́̍s̶͍̣̃u̵͓̥͔͂͘p̵̧͠ẻ̴͖͉̤r̸̠̓i̷͖̱͑o̴̘͌̋͘ṟ̷̱͋ȉ̷̧̩̻͋̿t̸̬́͐ͅỳ̴̘͜ ̴̦̯̽͑o̶̢͉͇͒̏v̷̝̳̎ę̶̈́ŗ̴͒̈́̏ ̶̢͙̾̊s̷̠͐ö̸͉̕m̵͚̌̋͗͜é̷̖̐̒ō̷̮̤̒́n̷̬̼̍͌ȩ̸̏̄ ̵͓̉w̵̡̲̌͝ḧ̵͚̃͌ô̴̜͕̘ ̶̡̣̖͂͛t̶͖͆͠h̷͇̗͍͆̏͗ę̸̂͗y̵̳̼̓͊͌ ̶̜̻̌d̴̬̫̿̽̍ȇ̴̻̞̳͛̕e̴̝̦͖͑m̵̻̌ ̸̥̬̔͛̎'̷̜̍͐̓ǫ̶͔̲̈̿t̸̢̀h̸̻̬͕̃e̵̝̽̆r̷̲̰͒̌'̶̫̥̗̓͌͘ ̴̫͔̂̓t̸͚̐͑͌h̵̜̗͖̉́á̶͔̜͙t̷̙̉͋ ̷͇̓v̴̼̼̓̕e̷̟͓̽͛͌r̷͕̻̈̔̊ý̶̺̯̙͠ ̵̲͖̫́͂ẇ̶̳͕͒e̴͗̎̄͜͜͜l̶̖̀̈́͝l̴̾̎̆͜ ̵̬̥̙̐́̋c̶̛̦̣͝ó̷̥ͅǘ̷̫̜l̵̛̟̈d̶̮̗͊͒ ̴̥͔̝̆͑̈́h̵̰͐a̶̲͈̳̓̏ṿ̵̎e̶̛̺̾ ̶̻̙͔͋́̅c̸̭̖̞͒̇ȯ̸̞̼͕̂͠s̵̟̍t̶̥̒̈́̒ ̸̬̕y̴͉͍̍̋̉o̵̬͚̳̓́u̸̞̽̉ ̴̺̋̏y̵̗͊̇ȯ̶̧̬̺̓u̴̟̣̓́̽r̴̼̰͈̀̈́ ̴̋͛͝ͅĺ̵̤͓ǐ̵̦̖f̸͙̊̉̑ę̷͓͙́̓.̵̛͚̰̗͊̓ Å̷̯̗n̵͈̱̍ḋ̸̤̙ ̷̘͌̅t̵͕͙̿h̷̙̭͂e̵̥̒̚ ̵͈̔͐͜t̵̢̹̊͘h̷̟̒i̸͖̐n̷̦̾g̴̢̣͆̑ ̵̼͝i̶̤̕ś̶̬͕,̵͙͒̀ ̵͙͐t̵̪͑ḣ̵̡i̸͚͂̄s̷̟̹̈́̉ ̴̻̓̌į̸͐̈́ş̸̛̬̔ṅ̴̼'̶͉̜͠t̴̙̱̃̿ ̸̨̄̄e̷̢̞͐͂v̵͓͝e̷̩̊ń̸̛̘̭ ̷̠̄t̵̨͆h̷̹̾̆e̴̘̺͊ ̴̱̒f̶̯͙͝ȉ̴̙̊r̸̪̞̂͝s̴̩̈́t̸̘͍͐͠ ̶͎̰̏t̷̹͔͘ị̷̐͝m̷͓̽͝e̴͎͒͝ ̵͔͍̉s̴͚͍̅̈́ó̸̲m̴̙͘e̶̥̪͊ṯ̶̢̓̃ẖ̵̉ī̴̞͕͆n̸͇̈g̴̛̺ ̴͙̎̈́ĺ̸͕í̶͎͒ͅķ̴̏͜e̸̮̒ ̴͈̓̋h̴̭̯͛̇i̵͍̎̂s̶̪̱͌ ̷̜̊͑ẖ̶̈́a̵̢̓s̴̡̔ ̴̣̒h̶̞̦̊̈́a̴͔͓̎̐p̸̘̙̑͐p̴͚͠e̶̺̮̚n̸͇̅ȩ̶̛̟͒d̴̏̕͜ ̶̹̀̓t̶̰̓̈o̴̘͋ ̷̫̤̀͠ÿ̷̺̆͜ö̴̰̜̀ú̵̲̉ ̶̮̑͆i̸̓̆͜s̶̻̀ͅ ̴͉͋ì̸̯͕t̸͍͘?̷̣̎]

He twitched.

[Y̵͚͐o̵̢̳̐̕u̶̪̮̒ ̷̜̼̊͒d̸͖̥̎̒o̸͉̺͐́ ̸̟͑n̷͉̐ỏ̷͖̬ṯ̵̤̽h̷̪̉̈i̶̢͙̊͝n̴̬̼͗g̴͔̃͝ ̶͙̟̃t̸̞̑̕o̸̙͂̓ ̶̩̌́s̷̖̆t̴̫͎̓ò̷̡p̴̭͆̚ ̴̗͘i̷̹͙̓̍t̴̜́ ̴̫̕ě̷̥v̶͎̾́ͅe̵̹͒n̷̠͈̎̑ ̷̨̓t̵͚͘h̴̻̽ọ̸͐͠ṷ̷̈́͊ͅg̶̫̋h̸̠̜͗̉ ̵̩̥̌̽i̷̪͊͠ţ̴̛̑'̵̳͗͛š̴͍ ̷̲̈́̃f̴̭͛̃u̷̲͗̐l̷̰̯̈́l̷͔̏y̵̪̩̒̍ ̴̭̄i̸̬̬̊͛n̷̛̗ ̶̗͆̈y̶͚͛ǫ̶̖͂̓u̴̧͗̄r̶͔̉͗ ̴̗̰̈́p̵̱͛ō̷̭͋ͅw̸̞̾̋e̷̞͋̂r̸̳̃̆ ̷̪͝t̶͕̝̓ǒ̸̰ ̶̲͊d̸̟̤̏͠ǒ̴̭̝͋ ̴̱͔̽s̴̱͛͋ó̷̡̳.̴͍͋̀ ̴̟̃̕Ỹ̶̪̭ȯ̸̭u̶̗͈͂ ̷̫́͜w̷̖̿̈́h̷͎̤̀ő̶̢ ̵̹͍͒͝h̵̢̢̑̅a̷̭͂̇s̵̛̜̜̉ ̶̰̰͆f̵̧̄ͅa̸̲̙̔c̷̣̀͠e̸̱̍̽d̴̞̏̈́ ̵͔͎̎ȟ̴̻o̶̢̎r̴̩̬̂r̴̥̱̒õ̴̯͉r̴͚̙͋̎s̵̨̛̳̀ ̸̻̐̒͜l̸̙̑̈́i̴̛̱t̸̡̏͛e̸̮̹͆̚r̷͍̐͒ä̴̯̰́̓l̵̝̚ ̸͕̈́w̷̻͗̍ơ̴͉̍r̷͎͠l̵̯̕d̸̖̬͌s̵͙͊ ̷͓̟̈́à̶̬w̸̧͕͋̈́á̷̤y̶̖̋ ̵̪͇͆t̶̻̏h̸̝̲̅̎a̴̯̯̐t̵̥̎̚͜ ̶̡̭͑t̵̫̓h̸̖̩̅e̴̤͠s̵̬̙̉̄e̷̯̙̽ ̴̝́͛w̴͕̳͘é̶̯̦a̸̛͚̖͆k̴̤͕͛-̷̪̓w̶͎̋̆ͅi̷̻̒͂l̷̫̈͊l̸̮̎̋è̷̗͝d̵̦͉̎̅ ̷̯͌y̴̲̔ō̸͈͇̚ṵ̶̝̓t̸̫͛ȟ̸̗̪͒ş̴̽͘ ̵͎̿̆w̸̛̩̐h̷̬̀ò̸̩̒ ̵̹͑y̷̦̌o̵͑ͅṵ̴̞̉͛ ̴̼̮̆̔s̴̲͋̎ǒ̵͕̩ ̵͓̻̈͌f̴̖̟̍ó̴͚͝ͅn̸̻̄͋ͅd̵̨̤̈́̕l̶̘̕͜͝y̶̰̍ ̶̱̀̉s̵̡̑͛ṵ̴̱̚r̴̻̬͗r̴̝͊̚o̵̖̜͂ų̴͈̓̕ņ̵͐͝d̴̬̪̎ ̶̤̍̊y̷̲̒ö̸̪̫ů̶̙͖r̵̗̐̋s̷̒̀͜ẻ̸̢̡̇ľ̷̥̼̿f̷̣̌ ̵͎͑̂ẅ̵͓͚́̎i̴̜̫͐t̴̖̾͘h̵͍̤̋̄ ̵̡͈̏c̷͓͊͆o̵̖͆̋u̵̘͆̚l̶͎͆d̸͈̜̑̈n̸̻̟̊'̴̛͙t̸͇̔ ̵̳̃̍ṗ̵̰̕ơ̴̦̩̋s̷̻̑s̵̢̠͐̇i̴͔̊b̵͈̐l̷̪̿y̷͕̿̊ ̷͙͛̈́ḓ̵͊̕ả̵͔́ͅṛ̶̼̽e̸̦͑̾ ̵̪̊̅ḩ̴͐̇o̸̪̰̅͝p̷͉̀ė̸͖ ̴̢̢̀̋t̷̹̔̾o̴̼͎͊̀ ̶̞͗͆c̷̡̱̔̈́o̸̫͒n̷̥̆c̴̜̿͘͜e̴͖͚͋͝ȉ̸̡v̸̦̠̎ę̷̽.̷̳̎̚ ̵̲̈Y̵͕͋̓õ̸͈̆ū̷̜̙̕ ̸̜̫̆w̵̺̍͑͜h̶̯̉o̸͗͜ ̵͙͌͆h̶͖͂a̶̟̖̚s̷̥̠̆ ̷̛̖̈w̸̝̾̇a̵̱̟͂͘t̴̹̤̀c̴̗̉ḧ̶͔́e̶̤̎d̶̡̟͊ ̶̗͂ͅṭ̶̇̈́i̴͈̓m̶̙̰̈e̸̤̚ ̸̧̦͝ȧ̸̢n̴̦̜̎d̷̩͊ ̵̧̻̌ẗ̷̮͖́̎į̶͚̊͌m̷͚̓e̴̦͆ ̷͔̅͘ą̵̥̈́̑g̴̣̺̏a̸̛̘͚̔i̷͔̓ṉ̶̢͘ ̶̧̥̋̈́a̸̤͍͘s̴̪̻̅ ̷̖̾̕ý̸̩͝ͅỏ̶͎ȗ̷͔̀͜r̴͉͚̈́ ̵̻̑͐b̶̓ͅŗ̸̠̕o̴̪̐t̵̤͋͛h̴̗̉̐è̸̠͇́r̴̥̱͝s̷͍̓ͅ-̴̭͙̓͌ï̵̠n̷̜͊-̵̩̌̒͜á̸͎̠ṙ̷͔͚m̶̛͚ṧ̵̡̬ ̵̳͖̿̓h̸̝̬̄͝a̵̡͛d̷̦̠̆̍ ̵̱͙̎͝f̸͓̑i̴̢̎̄n̵̤̔a̶͕̽͜l̴̗̒̋l̶̝͍͠y̴͖̰̾ ̶̼̈́͐f̴̛̞̞̿ȇ̶̢̈l̷̲̔͌l̷͚̎ ̸̛̝v̸̮̅i̴͖̊c̶̀͘ͅt̶͇͊i̴̹̚ͅm̸̼̮̚ ̸̗̻̀ṯ̷̫̈o̴̗̒ ̶͙͑͑t̵̮͂h̴̗̺̎e̶͔̅̓ ̶̠͆̔ͅd̵̡̗̈́a̵̹͓̎r̵̡̪̈́̌k̷̗̕ǹ̶̞͗e̸̢͔̽̀s̵͉͌́s̷͍͑ ̷̡͈̇̓i̵̱͉͒̐n̸̗̕ ̷̛̥̇t̶̡̙̆h̸̩͎̉ë̵͓̭́̑ḯ̶̝͈r̵̳̀̀ ̷̜̈h̸̫̄͝ę̵͆̄a̸̪̿̊r̸̢̞̊t̶̝̟͛̋ṣ̷̄̄ ̶͇̟͛a̶̬͒ṅ̸̠̞̿d̴̥̈́̎ ̴̜̅͝l̴̰̜̋͘e̸̹̩͗̚t̸̡͂͗͜ ̶̨̝͘͠i̵̳̅t̸̤̚ ̷͓̃͛c̷̢̝̽͠o̴͎̬̓ṉ̴͔̽s̶̜͓̃̈u̸̺͘m̴̰͌ě̶̠̯ ̷͚̈́ṯ̷͚̎͋h̴̥͌̿ȇ̵̘̩͘m̴̦̕ ̴̙̻̍̓b̸̤̗̆̕o̶̲̔d̴̼̙̒̕ÿ̷͓͇́ ̴̪̟̔͋a̸̤͗n̸͓̜̐d̷̬̙͂͒ ̵̰͍̊̚s̵̝̀ǫ̶͔̐ů̶̖́l̷̥͆̌ ̷͙̍̃b̴̗͊͜͠e̷͇͋f̴̧͔̋̚ő̵͓̾r̸͍͕͠è̸̹̾ ̵̺̦̒͋d̵̨͙̀é̷̫͍l̶̰͝i̴̻̤̚v̴̳̝͊̏ę̴̱̄̉r̷̞̊͆ͅi̸̝̔ǹ̸̟̺̾g̸͙̒ ̵̰̚̕t̵̨̡̀͆h̵͔͍̆͘e̷̟͎̅m̷̞͕͗ ̵͕̍̀t̶͙͘h̷̡̟͋a̸̻͝͝t̴̹̕ ̴̫͒̈f̶͂ͅỉ̸̹͚n̵̗̳̄̚ä̵̧̦̾l̶̛̗͖͘ ̴̯̪͆̏m̴̼̯̾ë̷͙̕ͅŕ̷̘̦c̸̼̼͒y̴̠̱͑̚ ̶̠̐w̵͈̞̑i̵͈̿̐t̸̠̍h̷̼͍̉͠ ̴̣̣͆́t̴̖̊ḧ̶̺́͘e̶̬̥͋ ̵̭̓̂ş̸̮̔e̷̜̋l̶͉̝̑f̶̰̋̌s̸͔͘ạ̸̌͛m̶̗͂e̷̛̪ ̸̥̇̉a̷̤̔̄ḅ̸͠i̷̢͠l̶̗̔i̸̦̣̎ẗ̵͙͖́͂i̶̲̮̒͒e̴̝̅ŝ̷̭̆ͅ ̷̣̥̔̑d̴̙̤̍͊e̷̡̯͗ȓ̶̤͎į̶͎͗̈́ṽ̴͇͝e̶̫̔d̸͔̀͂ ̴̗̀̀f̸͚͛r̸̤̳̕ơ̶̡̬͊m̵̟̚͝ ̴̣̏t̶̰̆͑h̷̫̀̍ę̸͑͒ ̴͖̩̂̚v̷̾ͅẽ̷͖͜r̵̯̀͋ỹ̶͕ ̷̮͕͛t̴͍̹̀̎h̵̪͚̆͘ĩ̷̡̝ń̶͕g̸̭̩̿ ̶̠̈́͑ͅt̸̜́ḧ̴͚́ä̸̭́͠t̶̨͔͌͗ ̸̦̦̒̾l̴̫̰̃e̵̞̾͜a̸̖̓d̶̞̽ ̵̖̍͠t̷̞̍̽h̸̹͍̎̍e̷̠͗ͅm̶͍̦͊ ̸̘͓͌t̵̛͚͚ọ̸̀ ̶̩̎t̷̤͙̏h̵͔̽͊e̷͈͆̈ḭ̸̈́r̷͉͕̋ ̶̞̣̓d̵͖͕̏͗o̷̘͎͗ȍ̸͉m̴͕̅̄.̶̗́ ̴̬̹͗̚N̴̯̮̍ê̵̥v̷̲͔́͋e̴̡͇͠r̴̨͝ ̸͚̘̕͝q̶̧͆̓ǘ̸̺̒i̶̦̋͜t̸̢̻̾̔e̷͋ͅ ̷̧̦͗ḵ̷̓n̶̗̦̈́o̵̲̎̕w̴͍̫̌i̵͖͆͋n̴͎͈̆̇g̵̢̖͊ ̷̠̦̿̚w̸̳͓͛̔ẖ̵̈́̃ẽ̶͓̿n̷̯͐ ̶͙̟̊į̷͑̾t̸͒̇͜ ̶͔͠ẃ̶͕̫o̶͚̞̓̋ủ̴̟̽l̷̦̟̋d̸̟̑ ̵̡̞̉͘b̸̡̿e̶̲̔̐ ̶̖̄y̵͎̏̀ȍ̵̻ủ̵̟͖͛r̴̛͇͔̂ ̵͎̋t̶͎̫͛u̵̩̝͋̈́r̶̡̮̽n̴̗̖̚ ̷̟̀o̵̩̎̋n̵̖̤͂͘ ̴̨̈́t̸̰̅͐ȟ̴͙e̴̖̙͑̓ ̵̯̤̅͠p̷̛͠ͅy̷̘̑̈r̷̮͒ę̶͒ ̸̟̞̓a̵͖͐̾ͅs̸͎̱̓ ̴̪̫̽̅ẗ̸̡̳́h̵͉̏ĕ̷ͅ ̴͓̔̂c̸͇̫͆y̶̺͒c̷̹͊̄l̷̨̳̇̎ẹ̴̻͆͠ ̶͓̾c̷̨̞̅o̶̯͒͝n̷̯̄t̵̞͋̕i̴͍̚n̶̢̿͒u̵̪̪̓ě̴͇̀d̸͍̖͛̚.̴͊]

Okay.

There were a lot of things you could ignore, some things that you simply had to if only to keep the most tenuous of grips on your dubious sanity when one is suddenly thrust into an entirely different world with different policies, different rules of engagement and (potentially) fucking physics.

Sure, should he probably have clued in that something was up the very moment those weird ass visions brought about by the local talking mirror started. Probably. Or when the talking portraits scattered about the college started falling silent whenever he walked past, as if someone stepped on their graves. Sure. Or even when the sleepwalking had him waking up in the dead of night to find himself already staring out at the large glass windows of the dormitory as the rain steadily streamed down the siding.

(Yeah, actually in hindsight the sleepwalking was kind of a big red flag.)

And like, logically, he knew what he was doing was probably just setting himself up for failure. But coming from world where malevolent entities that fed off expressed negativity could and would latch onto any form of perceived weakness to turn it against you, that lead to some admittedly terrible coping mechanisms to deal with the crazy shit you saw.

(The fact that most of the planet didn't even fucking believe in said entities because of the vigorous propaganda campaigns brought about by numerous long-standing institutions didn't help much either. Thank you so much for that by the way. Way to made the job of cleaning up after these 'make believe ghosts' who could and regularly did wrack up a not-insignificant body count so much easier. Not. Also magic was fucking weird okay and he was working with severe chronic sleep deprivation and probably some form of shellshock so sue him for being little slow on the uptake.)

[Ă̶̗n̶̨̊ḓ̶̾ ̴̬̄y̷̰̚e̴͎͒t̶̥̐ ̶͇̊y̴̛̤ȏ̴̥u̵̗͛ ̵͖̒s̵̫̆ẗ̸͖́i̴̛̭ĺ̸̙l̵̛̼ ̶͉͋f̶̛͕ò̷̯ū̶̞g̷̳̊h̴̢͝t̶̎ͅ ̸̰̀f̵͈͊o̶̫͆r̸̤͗ ̷͉͂t̵͖͠ḧ̸̤ẽ̴͚m̷̿͜ ̷̮̏d̷̤̐e̸̼̎s̴̳̋p̷̩̄i̶͕̔t̴̳̓e̴͜͝ ̶͎̆k̶͙͊n̷̦̿ơ̸̻w̸͊ͅi̸̅͜n̴̬͝g̴̺̓ ̸̣̽t̵̠́h̷̍ͅa̷̫͠ẗ̸̯́ ̷͉̓ë̵̩́v̵̥͂e̸̘͌r̴̳̍y̷̘̾ṭ̶̍h̴̪̽ì̷̢n̷̦̓g̵̤̑ ̴͈̇y̵̪̾ó̶̠u̷̻̕ ̵̢̈d̶͕͊i̷̲͋d̸̪̀ ̴͈̅ǎ̷̭n̷͕̆ḓ̵́ ̴̭̊e̸̙̒v̷̭̏e̶̟̽r̴̳̈́ÿ̷̧́ť̴̯h̶̞̉ï̵̧n̴͚̏ǵ̶̳ ̸͉͝y̶̝̾ö̴̘́ų̸̆ ̵͖̿g̸̪͌a̶͉͂v̴͙͋e̴͈̎ ̷͉͘w̵̢̐o̸͖͋ù̵͚l̴͔͐d̴̖̾ ̷̪̚à̸̢m̸̠̌o̷͚͒u̴̔ͅn̵͔̒ẗ̴̜ ̸͈̆t̵̝̐o̴̺͐ ̴͊͜n̴͍͝ó̴̤t̶͇̓ĥ̴ͅi̴̬̓ṇ̶͐g̶̺͌ ̷͚͂i̷̧͗ǹ̴̜ ̴̩̓t̶̢́ĥ̸̡e̴͓͠ ̶̜̀ḙ̶̊ṋ̴̛d̴̡̆.̷̢̅ ̸͇͑Ť̵̠h̸̤͐à̴̖ṱ̵͝ ̸̫̉h̵̘̒u̴͖̍m̴̪̆a̴͈͛n̸̜͛s̸̻̒ ̶̛̜w̷͌ͅo̶̘͠u̵̺͠l̶̎͜ḏ̷̿ ̶̹̉ë̸͉́v̷͕̉ë̵̙́n̵̢͛ṭ̷̃u̷̡͑ǎ̴͇ḷ̷͂l̵̤̚y̴̙͒ ̷̟̇j̴͓͊ụ̷͋ŝ̶̯t̷̬̆ ̶̼̾b̴̰̋e̸̲͝ ̶̰̿ċ̴͎ơ̵̥n̵̤̔s̷̛͉u̵̦̾m̷͎̄é̸̻d̵͈̿ ̵̗̈́b̷͓͠y̸̜͒ ̵̣̌ṯ̶̆h̶͝ͅe̸͉̓i̷̮̐r̴̐ͅ ̸̨́ṇ̷̌e̷͈͘g̶̖̏a̴̋ͅt̷̢͐i̵͎̓v̸̲̀i̴̽ͅt̷͔̋y̴̐͜ ̶̢͘a̵̤̕n̸̠͆d̷̪̓ ̴̰͘t̴̞̓ḫ̴͗a̷̛̱t̴͚̎ ̸͖͆y̴̯͛ỏ̴̲u̷̩͆ ̶̣̑ẅ̸͖́e̴̜͋r̸̲̽ḙ̶̈ ̶̨̕ṕ̴͓ă̴͚t̸͈͑c̷̪̃h̶͔͗i̴̥͊n̸̖̄g̴̟̈́ ̶̧̂u̶̝̍p̷̼͑ ̸͖̑ḁ̴͋ ̸̲̄ș̸͠ḣ̷̫ȋ̵͖p̴̟͊ ̴͕͛t̵͈͂h̷̯̔a̶͉͗t̴͖͂ ̵̟̐h̸̋͜ạ̵̉d̶̦͘ ̴̞̓l̸̳͋o̸̘͊n̷̼͆g̷̺͋ ̷͈̾s̴̞̄i̷̯̾n̸̢̄c̵̺̃e̶͚͌ ̴̝̿s̶̛̟ȃ̵̰n̴̂͜k̸̟̏.̴̠͋ B̶͔̕e̸͖͑c̶͍̅a̴͖̐ǔ̷̱s̸̗̎e̶̡̊ ̷͈̈́t̵̤͆ò̴̻ ̵̛̹y̷̲̅o̶̰̍u̵͈̓ ̷̗̓t̶̯̀h̸̼̅ả̵͕t̵̹̎'̸̧̂s̴̩̎ ̶͎̔j̸̻̀u̷̞̇s̶̖͌t̸͕̃ ̸͔̋ḫ̷̃ơ̵̬w̵̨͝ ̶̘̆ẗ̵̨́h̴̬̔i̵̲͆n̷̄͜gs̶̜̈́ ̶͙̈́w̸̩̔o̶͈͒r̸̗̍k̴͎̍ẽ̶̳d̶͖͠,̷̼̇ ̵̩̇ŵ̸̟a̸̯͝s̷̞̀n̶̤͒'̶͓̊t̴͉̎ ̵̢͑ǐ̴̗t̷͔͗?̵̖͌ ̴̛̘D̶͕̓è̸̜ḙ̶͛p̸̻̈́ ̵̳̽d̸͕̏ơ̵̹w̴̬͂ǹ̷̻ ̴̟̋i̶͚͐n̶̘̒ ̵̰͒t̷͐͜h̸̻̋e̶̩̎ ̶̦̔d̴̝͐à̵̧r̷̬͂ḱ̷̢n̶̚͜ḙ̸̍s̵̢͑s̴͚͠ ̵̖̑o̷̲͊f̵͕̈́ ̵̭͘y̶͓̐o̴̱̔ú̷̞r̵̫̈́ ̷̗͐ò̵̹w̶̤͂n̸͙̏ ̴͙̐s̸̥̀o̸̓͜u̵͔͌l̷͙̈́ ̵̜̈́y̸̫͝o̴͛͜ȕ̵͉ ̴̮͝t̴̖͆r̷̗͝ȗ̵̡l̶̠̓y̵͔̓ ̸̗́ḇ̸̈ẹ̸́l̸̗̏ḯ̶̮é̶͚ṽ̴̜ḛ̷̈d̶̘̀ ̶̺̅t̷͓̑ḧ̵̩a̶͚͂t̵͚͂'̷͍̃s̶̗̽ ̷̤͋j̴̄ͅu̷̪̍s̴̹͗t̶̀͜ ̸̤̓h̷͕̏o̶̩̚w̵̻̃ ̶̧̄h̴̻̚u̷̘͒m̷̟̒ä̶͎n̵̟͗i̶̟͊t̶͚͘y̴̰̓ ̸̩̐w̸̥̆ȧ̵͚s̶͚̒.̴̨̿ I̵ ̸s̸ ̷n̵ ̴'̴ ̵t̶ ̶i̸ ̷t̸ ̸?̸]

The air in his lungs caught. A pale hand came up to clutch at the fabric of his ill-fitting vest. He couldn't breathe. Turns out there are somethings you just can't ignore. Not when the devil himself was finally knocking at your door. Slowly, he t u r n e d a r o u n d .

[B̶̡̒u̸̦͝t̵̲̂ ̷͚̒t̵̢̐ẖ̷̄e̵̱͗ ̸̱͒m̵̗͘o̷̠͘s̸̫̋t̵͕̉ ̸̱̄d̷͕̏a̶̠͛m̷̪̅n̵͎̔i̷̥͌n̵͖̿g̶̭͗ ̶̲̅t̸͕͝h̷͔̔ỉ̶͖n̷̳̓g̶̱̀?̶̟͐]

Only to catch a glimpse of his figure reflected in the cracked mirror carelessly propped up against the opposite wall. He watched with a mounting horror as the figure contained within moved independently of his own form, the monster clad in his reflection having finally gained enough negative energy to properly manifest, twisted to face him as it spoke.

[H̴o̶w̷ ̵c̶a̴n̷ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̸b̷e̵ ��s̷u̶r̴e̵ ̵t̴h̶a̶t̸ ̸y̶o̶u̷ ̵a̶r̴e̸ ̸t̴h̶e̴ ̷o̸n̷e̶ ̵i̷n̷ ̶c̶o̴n̸t̵r̵o̷l̵?̸]

It's red eyes crinkled in malevolent glee as pale lips curled up into a fanged s m i l e...

[Sorry -̸̸̶̴̵̸̵̶̸̵̵̵̸̸̴̻͖͚͍͛̈́͗̂̀̉͋̚-̴̸̸̸̴̴̴̷̴̷̷̸̷̛̳͍̬̗̣͊̂͊͠-̶̴̶̶̶̶̸̵̴̶̸̸̵̴̴̷̸̸̵̸̸̡̛̗̙͙̹͓̘̗̹̈́̄͐̒̂̈́̽̕-̷̸̷̵̵̴̵̸̸̸̶̶̴̵̴̷̵̢̟̫̥̠͗̄̍̾̑̄̕͘͠-̵̷̴̸̵̸̸̶͈̦͉̻̀-̴̴̸̸̸̸̴̷̶̶̶̶̷̶̸̸̶̶̵̴̨͙̣͕̮͈̘̔̑̏̍̑̎̌̐̚͠-̶̷̵̶̶̶̴̴̸̴̴̸̶̜̥́̔̔͌̀͑͆͘ but it's my turn now.]

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

{Crash!}

"Damn it Floyd, be careful with those pans. We're on a time crunch and we can't afford any screw ups."

"Yeah, sorry." He rubbed his head, "Ah hey, isn't that Mr. Shrimpy?"

"What?" Jade's head perked up as he went to join his brother at the kitchen window. They watched as the pale haired man mechanically tried —then succeeded– in picking himself up off the grass. Looming much like his namesake, his hunched figure loomed over a pile of glittering something scattered about just out of sight as he clutched his arm tightly to his chest. However, he suddenly stiffened as if sensing the sets of eyes upon him. Slowly he rose and twisted to face the merfolk twins staring curiously out the open window at the strange new show.

"..."

"...?"

"..." He turned, blank-faced and briskly walked away.

The two brothers turned to face one another then back to the window, each with a curious tilt of the head.

"Weird."

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Having gotten a significant distance away from the dorm and those contained within he stopped, hunched over as he gasped for air. Bit by bit his breathing leveled out but the raging riptide of feelings within given rise by the rampaging Phantom in his soul remained.

Through clenched teeth, a wordless sound escaped him as he desperately struggled to hold together the demolished fragments of his masked composure as the wraith lashed out at its impromptu jailer. Each tendril of void-like energy sent a wave of ragepainindignationdespairf u r y so potent that made him want to curl up into a ball and wait until the darkness consumed him just so he didn't have to feel it any longer. He breathed out...

"...Fuck."

His body faced the Alchemy Workshop's retention pond, the pain in his left arm a tenuous grounding point as the blood soaked through the thin dress shirt. It had been a wild gamble, stabbing himself with one of his knives but the sheer shock of the action had driven the other back enough to allow for him to make his escape. Sure it had been through window, but it wasn't like it had been the first time today he'd done so.

He grimaced, wincing at surge of sheer inhuman wrath emanating from his passenger. It was taking every single fiber of his being to continue to fight against the black-hole of negativity as to not be overcome but this far in he already knew it was a losing battle.

Grey eyes stared bleakly out at the sunset as it cast rays over the gleaming water.

(He never even got to hang out with the guys at the party and see the eclipse with everyone else. He didn't even get to say goodbye.)

He knew that it was only a matter of time before the Phantom overtook him. True he bought himself a little bit of wiggle-room but he needed to get far away, off Sage Island if possible and away from any populated settlements at the very least, and fast. Before it was too late and he was subsumed entirely under the fathomless entirety of that...monstrosity. (He needed to get away from everyone while he was still himself.)

(It had been a long time but he felt like he wanted to cry.)

"Little imp?" He startled and then the pit in his stomach bottomed out.

Oh no. No. Nonono-

"Damn it, wait up! You're lucky I run track... Huh? Oh hey, Mr. White! What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, hey! Sam...and Jack too! What a surprise!" He replied, his voice pitching up a bit too high. Internally he cursed up a blue streak as he tried to figure out the best way to get the both of them to leave without seeming suspicious.

"I-I was just...ah, getting some air before the...the viewing party? You know? The one Kalim was hosting? At Ramshackle?" He jabbed his thumb back the way he came, ignoring the way his hand subtly shook. (The suspiciously gleeful cackle echoing in the back of his mind was not helping.)

Damn it! Out of all of the people who could have showed up why did it have to be the only one in this god-forsaken school who actually had some inkling about the dangers the spiritual world could possess as well as his relation to the seedy underbelly of it. And to make matters worse, why was one of the students with him?!?

"...Yeah? Is that so?" Sam gave his version of a neutral smile, inoffensive and otherwise the perfect fit of dealing with a difficult customer. As magenta eyes slowly roved up and down his form before finally settling on his chest. Brows furrowed imperceptibly as he cocked his head a bit to the side. "Bit far of a walk, innit?"

His heart dropped to his feet. Shit, he knew that look. That was the look he had whenever his attention had been caught by some particularly intriguing curiosity. And the fact that it was now aimed at him? He already knew something was up.

But still, he was in too deep to stop now.

"Mhm, y-yeah! I can't really stop myself when my legs get moving sometimes." He let out chuckle that sounded hollow even to his ears. "Sometimes, you just have to get up and go. Y'know?" His voice faltered, and he swallowed, trying again. "You have to go..."

It was now that the youngest member of their unconventional trio stepped up into the conversation. "...Uh, hey this is kind of a weird question. And I don't wanna be rude and interrupt...whatever it is that you two have got going on. But, do I smell blood right now?"

"!"

Slowly his arms lowered to dangle limply at his sides. "..." He turned away as the last rays of sun slowly dipped under the horizon. "..." Back to the men, the sinking light cast his form in deep shadow.

"...I forgot. You beastfolk have elevated senses of smell don't you."

A cold wind swept through the area, stirring ripples in the iolite depths. The pale man shuddered, his slight frame shaking like a leaf in a winter's storm and he seem to sway a bit as if about to keel over before he caught himself and straightened with an eerie calm.

"...Mr. White?" Jack moved to place a hand on the shorter man's shoulder.

"Don't touch him!"Jack taken off guard by sudden outburst, jerked his head back to stare at the older man as his hand instinctively clamped down. The body underneath him twitched. With a sharp curse, Sam darted forward as the man turned on them and struck out, nailing the taller boy in the face with a right hook. He yelped and fell back, clutching at his bleeding nose in shock as Sam quickly stepped in to take his spot and a brief struggle ensued.

"Oh seven my nose!" He winced at the pain, almost certain that the offending part was broken. "What is your problem?!" Jack howled, only to receive no response as the two men seemed determined to beat the shit out of one another. White ears pinned back in a snarl. Fine, if that was how they were gonna play it, and joined the fray.

But the older white-haired male fought like a man possessed and refused to give an inch. Tagging the teen with a solid palm strike to the solar plexus, he knocked him away as the other choked and sputtered. He reared back to elbow Sam in the gut but the taller man merely tanked the hit and held on for dear life as they begin to grapple.

It was a fierce fight but the older man was eventually forced to the ground, having been overpowered in his degraded state. But still he continued to thrash and wriggle in their grasp, with a seemingly increasing desperation.

Having no other choice, the two of them pressed their weight onto the prone man. Jack's ears twitched as the other evidentially realized the futility of continued struggle and turned to muttering "Nonono..." With his face pressed into the dirt and splattered with blood and who-knew-what he looked positively unhinged as he stared at the setting sun. "You don't understand."

"Mr. White..." Jack murmured, tail giving a unnerved swish at the usually collected man's behaviour.

"Oh, we understand more than you think buddy." Sam muttered with narrowed eyes as his hand went for the strange green hamsa-type amulet in his apron pocket. "Hold him down for me would ya?"

"O-Oi..." At the other's sharp look he grumbled and did as he was told. Forcing the small man's uninjured arm behind his back with a small grimace.

Grey eyes slipped shut behind cracked lenses as his lips moved in a soft prayer. "Please-" The rest of which was lost to the rush of wind.

"Hm, what was that? A curse, maybe? A request for last rites, perhaps?"

...He t w i t c h e d .

"I said..."

Dark eyes widened a touch too late as he processed the change in the air. "Would you-" He jerked his head to meet the younger boy's confused gaze, mouth poised to warn him but was cut off when the lad was summarily ripped from his perch and tossed aside.

"—just–"

And with a strength that he had no right to possess Sam followed suit, his amulet sent skittering across the grass-

"–let-"

-only to stop at his feet.

He stood a looming shadow over the fallen men. With crimson eyes crescented as he cast a look of utter disdain at the protective amulet. His lips continued peeled back in a snarl.

"-me-"

And as if rising from the grave, his foot lifted up before ruthlessly slamming down as he unleashed a truly unholy sound." GO!!"

And then it was silent.

An uneasy stillness fell over the clearing as the two prone men didn't dare move, the overwhelming pressure emanating from the lone figure before them was not that unlike a predator surveying his catch before moving in for the kill and it made the teenager want to bolt with his tail tucked between his legs to be honest.

If it weren't for the sound of heavy breathing, he would have thought that the man had been turned to stone. Those luminous eyes boring into their souls as their owner stared and stared and stared. Until suddenly, he blinked.

Then blinked again.

And once more, the unearthly red glow flickering before snuffing itself out.

And from there it seemed that the spell broken and the man was finally to take in their stricken state. A look of utter horror crossing his face as he slowly shook his head and took a step back. Then another. And another, faster this time. Eyes haunted, yet unable to leave their bloodied forms.

"I-I'm sorry."

And then he turned tail, bolting for the forest as he disappeared into the thick copse of trees.

(Wholly unaware of the single red notebook that had slipped out of his pocket in the scuffle.)

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Naturally they tried to go after him but between their injuries and the fading light they quickly lost sight him in the underbrush. Reluctantly the two of them stumbled huffing-and-puffing to a halt in a rocky half-clearing. Sam slowly hobbled over to the giant yew sprawling about the copse and leaned against its trunk with a strained grimace.

Long fingers carefully folded around his waist as he took care not to jostle the rib cage any further lest the bruises there turn in to full blown fractures. He watched as Jack slammed his free fist into the tree's bark with a loud curse. "We're just running in circles."

"Yeah? I hadn't noticed." The man drawled.

It was here the teenager's temper finally spilled over, "Y'know, I've been real patient with this whole thing. I kept my mouth shut when a bunch of freaking ghosts burst in the school store and started screeching –and I quote— 'The Great Lord of Darkness has clawed his way back from Death & That Which Lay Beyond the Stars to enact his revenge upon us all. It's over! The end is nigh!'" His mimicry of said spirits was somewhat tempered by the broken nose but otherwise spot on, Sam thought.

"I was just trying to get some snacks man. Not get my freaking face punched in by the local staff cryptid who suddenly decided to completely flip their lid. That bastard White really knows how to throw hands by the way." He threw a hand up in exasperation.

"But you know a guy can only only take so much. And so I must ask: what in the actual fuck-" He gestured pointedly back at the way they came, ears pinned against his head. "-was that? And why are we following after it?"

"...Yes, I too would like to know the reasoning."

Jack let out a startled yelp as both their heads jerked up to stare over as the newest arrival —Malleus Draconia, Housewarden of Diasomnia himself– seemingly appeared from the aether before them.

Disconcerted, Jack's ear twitched. "...Dude. Where did you even come from...?" While his nose might not have been currently in service his ears still worked so why in the world didn't he hear him creeping up on them? Did he just spawn in the second he mentioned Mr. White? Weird.

Apparently unphased (or perhaps used to such reactions), the fae seemed to take his question in stride and answered earnestly. "There was a social gathering dedicated to tonight's eclipse occurring nearby so I sought to occupy the intermedium with a nice walk through the nearby ruins with my compatriots as to not inconvenience them with an early arrival. However, as we set out one of my companions seemed to be stricken by a sleeping fit so the other opted to wait it out with him nearby and as such told me it was alright to go ahead and they would catch up in a bit."

"...Right."

"Now, I heard you mention the host of this affair, and quite loudly if I might add. May I perhaps inquire as to why you were in pursuit of this individual?"

Was it just him or did those eyes seem to gleam dangerously as the fae coolly took in their states of disarray only to quietly narrow at the half-dried spattering of bloodstains present on their forms. Jack's hackles raised as a chill ran down his spine and suddenly he felt as though if either of them said the wrong thing then it could turn out very badly, for them that was.

It seemed that the shopkeeper picked up on this as well if his nervous grimace were any indication. He glanced away, appearing as if to be weighing the situation's pros versus cons of the before appearing to have come to a decision.

"...Yeah, about that. Listen, there's no good way to put this but-" With a grim look he turned to face the others and made as if to push his hat back only to remember the piece of fabric had been lost earlier in the scuffle and instead settled for running a hand through his hair. "- that thing back there? It ain't your little friend anymore."

Malleus seemed to take that in for a moment, toxic green eyes unblinking. Then he subtly tilted his head. "Explain."

...Why did it sound like a threat?

"Alright, alright! You really know how to twist a guy's ear don't'cha? Yeesh..." The shopkeep waved them back down before giving a suspicious glance around; he seemed, for lack of a better word, agitated. "Fine, I'll spill. But not out here." Raising a hand to quickly stave off the protests he elaborated, "More often than not, in Old Woods like these the trees aren't the only things listening."

He turned to Malleus, "That big shindig of yours, it's over at Ramshackle right? That's good. I know that paranoid old geezer has set up who knows how many wards and booby traps around the joint so it should be safe enough there." Plus he didn't want to repeat any of this more than once.

Seeing no good reason to reject this reasonable offer (nor the implied opportunity to interrogate find out if that blood on wolf beastman shirt was just his own or not. For his sake it better be...) the fae begrudgingly agreed. He turned away, setting off through the thicket as the shopkeeper flanked him.

After a beat the exasperated beastman let out a quiet huffing-grumble and stalked behind, his hand tightening around the hardcover notebook clutched within.

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Uneven footfalls thudded against the rough undergrowth as he ran. His thin frame raced through the darkening forest as if the devil himself was on his heels, which considering the circumstances was not that far off. He moved until his jumps began to turn sloppy, a small blackthorn thicket thwacked against his aching arms when he stopped being able to dodge properly, and beads of sweat mixed with dirt dripped down into his eyes only to to become yet another hindrance that eventually sent him and his glasses sprawling out across the pine needle and rock-encrusted soil.

And yet throughout it all, that malevolent laughter accompanied him as the foreign void behind his eyes encroached.

It was here, in this desolate stretch of forest worlds upon worlds away from all that he ever knew, the pale-haired man laid. Hopelessly lost and alone, save for the monster poised in wait under his skin, eager to take his body and soul for a nightmarish spin.

And it was here that the twenty-seven-year-old finally let himself shatter.

With crimson eyes he cried tears that refused to fall with the sound of mocking reassurances of a monster once dead as a symphony in the night.

And as the light of red moon rose history repeated itself.