Tall and striking. Dr. Candlewick is a vigorous man of late middle years, white-haired with dramatic side whiskers. He dresses impeccably, but his clothing is years out of fashion. He favors waistcoats of bright colors, and his watch chain is hung with weird charms and talismans. His eyes are kind, but his mouth is cruel. His ears are somewhat prominent (and indifferent of temperament). He speaks in a convoluted and rhythmic cadence which some find hypnotic.
You are not quite sure when the chimes of the bell had stopped ringing so pleasantly in your ears. Was it when Alice took her cautious steps into the vast beyond? When Marcus sluggishly paced the wooden flors for this last time? Maybe when the always cheerful Isaac let it echo repeatedly throughout the bleak hallways, triumpanthly signaling his departure. When you had first arrived, it was such a pleasant sound. The sound of hope and adventure. As the door would open, strangers from the outside imposing on your petty orphanage. Stiff gentlemen, haughty women, and some rumored to be neither, would bring with them flavor from beyond the gates, in exchange for a child of their choosing.
The promise of leaving behind Miss Margareth's dungeon for a caring family often surfaced as dreams while embraced by the coarse blanket. However, they would remain as just that, dreams. Scornful looks were all you would get at best, no matter how presentable you made yourself. In time, you could hold nothing but resentment for these people, whom existed only to deprive you of friends. If that was how your fate would be spun, maybe a life of solitude would be better, so you wouldn't need to untie all these knots.
Unwanted as you were though, the bell would toll for you too a damp summer evening. A man draped with formal nostalgia, armed with tenfold the presence and a fraction of the affection of any normal would-be parent, proved himself the first to take interest in your sorry state. His demeanor was spirited, but somewhat aloof and enigmatic still. However, there was no mistaking what he had come here for: You, and three other neglected sacks of flesh. Maybe the prospect of leaving enticed you, or maybe you didn't want to go the way of those who betrayed you. Either way, there was little choice in the matter, as the director bombarded you with sugarcoated words sweeter than anything you had ever gotten for dinner. She would finally be able to rid herself of some unwanted baggage, and no amount of effort on her part could fully conceal that fact. The man by the name of Candlewick made promise to retrieve you on a cold day of August, a prophecy that came fulfilled on a howling Monday. Someone of foreign origin entered the door on the old man's account, and with heartfelt and hollow goodbyes, you heard the bell chime for one last time.
The car ride to Candlewick was nothing if not awkward; several hours filled of silence in the backseat. Trying to break it by asking the driver one of your innumerous questions proved to be folly, as they were returned with excuses drowned by a heavy accent, no matter how clearly you tried to phrase yourself. Maybe you could have exchanged some words with the other misbegotten children. Thruthfully, you don't remember clearly whether you did or not.
Sunbeams that once shined upon your departure eventually faded over the horizon as the winding roads continued on for what seemed like hours, maybe as an omen of the dark times to come. The car eventually came to pass a wooden sign with "Candlewick Vale" neatly carved in, as you plunged into the forest. When it once again opened up, the last stretches of the sun crowned a moderate township from behind the mountain ridges. Delving further into the belly of the beast, passing the village and other curiosities, the downtrodden and once magnificent Candlewick Estate loomed forth. In front of it stood a familiar face, Mr. Candlewick himself welcoming you all with a smile.
"Welcome to Candlewick, my children. I hope we can all be building blocks of a promising future in your new home. Quite charming, is it not?"
Joined: Jun 04, 2014 Posts: 15603 Location: Freedom
Preferred Pronoun Set: they
this whole ordeal has been overwhelming for Vincent. quiet at the best of time, being dragged out of the place he'd come, for better or worse, to call home has left him practically catatonic. he spent the entire drive curled in a ball, trying as hard as he could to disappear, to silence the screaming thoughts in his head. they'd quieted by the end, if only from sheer fatigue, but the arrival at Candlewick and the appearance of the doctor reignited his terror. his eyes flash for a split second, and the voices return.
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
James looks up at the house and the strange man before him and begins squirming in place. Uncomfortable with the entire new situation, his jaw is firmly set and unable to form words. He waits for direction from the new man, halfway between resignation and flight.
Zeke, for his part, is looking somewhat past Mr. Candlewick studying the front of the estate, eyes darting across the play of light and darkness on its surface.
_________________
"Enjoy your screams, Sarpadia - they will soon be muffled beneath snow and ice."
I'm a (self) published author now! You can find my books on Amazon in Paperback or ebook! The Accursed, a standalone young adult fantasy adventure. Witch Hunters, book one of a young adult Scifi-fantasy trilogy.
Mr. Candlewick scratches his chin somewhat nervously, while holding on to his most welcoming smile firm. The lack of any response furrowed into his modest wrinkles.
"Well, I am sure you are—" "You are probably all tired after such a long journey. Will you let me to guide the way to your resting places? A splendid dream is the most potent cure for any woes."
Vincent
Mr. Candlewick's mind is like a rigid pillar of granite raising up in an impenetrable foggy sky, hiding an array of esoteric carvings. It inches ever so slightly over a surrounding chasm, hopelessly wanting to bridge the gap, but too scared of falling.
"I must admit, this is working out quite poorly. Is my appearance too intimidating? Perhaps I said something I shouldn't have. Young Vincent is truly glaring daggers at me! Maybe I should just give them to the calm of the night, and see if tomorrow is more fortunate."
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
James stares at his feet and concentrates on walking up the stairs and into the house, noting along the way any and all insects he sees on the ground. " 'Ello," he says meekly as he approaches Mr. Candlewick.
"The world can't hear you when you speak so softly, children. You must learn to make it yours." "Now then, follow me into my abode."
You're standing on the Candlewick Estates. Behind you are menacing maws of rock, which make out the hillsides. In front of you stand a pitful yet imposing Gothic mansion, taking on the appearance of a large cross slumbering on the newly cut lawn. Mr. Candlewick moves away from the main entrance and to the right, entering the large body of shadow resting there. The building slowly blots out what remains of the sun's dying stretches where it slowly drowns in the mountainside. Behind a new set of doors, faded lights dance playfully behind the windows. As you enter, you find yourself amidst the yellow wooden walls of the West Wing Dormitory. It's decorated with numerous windows, which currently serve little purpose, leaving it in a comfortably warm and slumbering atmosphere. From the corners of newly renovated halls, the echoes of luster whistling ebbs and flows in what would otherwise be silent were it not for your footsteps.
Several rooms are spaciously strewn across the hallway. Four of them bear wooden signs, with your very names cursively branded in. Your new homes, it would seem. Each of them would probably be used to room at least ten people each if this were the orphanage. They have inviting beds, polished desks, wardrobes filled with monochrome uniforms, and it all smells of wood that has yet to be desecrated by wear and tear. Mr. Candlewick also points out nearby facilities, most importantly the bathroom, before leaving you to your own devices, suggesting that you go to sleep. That's what it sounded like, at least.
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
James heads into his room and slumps down on the bed, his mind racing with thoughts of living in such a large room by himself. Being isolated from the other children both made him glad for the space, and already a bit lonely. Thinking about how Mr. Candlewhick had said they should speak louder and make the world theirs, James clears his throat and says " 'Ello" into the empty room just a bit louder than before.
Zeke begins by examining his room, particularly investigating the corners and dark spaces, and trying to commit them to memory, those tiny bits of Night held captive throughout time. When the cursory investigation is complete, he finds himself feeling lost, and backs against one wall, listening carefully to the quiet of the manor.
_________________
"Enjoy your screams, Sarpadia - they will soon be muffled beneath snow and ice."
I'm a (self) published author now! You can find my books on Amazon in Paperback or ebook! The Accursed, a standalone young adult fantasy adventure. Witch Hunters, book one of a young adult Scifi-fantasy trilogy.
Joined: Jun 04, 2014 Posts: 15603 Location: Freedom
Preferred Pronoun Set: they
as soon as he can, Vincent moves to his room, closes the door, and crawls into bed. he covers himself in blankets and pillows, wraps a pillow around his ears to try to block out the noise, and, when the voices don't stop, whispers "go away... go away...", softly whimpering until he manages to lull himself to sleep.
Joined: Jan 31, 2015 Posts: 2574 Location: California
Identity: Rubik
Rebecca—who had remained otherwise silent—opened the door to her room and slammed it behind her sullenly. She wasn't happy to be here. She had friends at the orphanage, friends who she could play games with and talk to. Now she was stuck with three boring weirdos.
With a running start she threw herself onto the bed, burying her face into her pillow. Tomorrow she'd try to make the best of her situation, but tonight she owed it to herself to openly bemoan the loss of her old home and friends.
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
James waits and listens as doors open and close in the halls. He can hear the creaking of wood coming from the other rooms. He sits down on the floor and concentrates on summoning some of his insect companions. Once they're there he uses his Warped Tongue to converse with them, asking them to explore and report back on this new environment.
squinty_eyes rolled 4d10 and got a total of 22:
ooc: use my Awesome to change the 3 to a 9 to match the other 9.
Do you have anything specific in mind? Hell, the insects are presumably from around here, so you might just be able to ask them outright about anything you're curious on.
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
Spoiler
Sure, I'd like to know:
How many people are in the house Any history the insects have passed down of the house Any rooms that are hidden / infrequently accessed What types of insects are available to me
I would also request that if they see anything that causes a drastic change while not with me, to come find me if I am in the house.
"Yessssssssss. This one shows promise, he speaks our tongue. Gather the council."An almost comically nefarious voice with elongated pronunciation emanates from a black spider with verdant spots, crawling around in a rare dark corner of the room. She appears to have a broken hindmost leg on her right side, partially tied up with strands of spider web.
In about the span of ten minutes, a wide selection of different insects show up; an ant, moth, butterfly, claw beetle and grasshopper.
"Where is Grease?" "She suffered casualty under the surveillance of the wixen."The ant speaks up. He has an eloquent demeanor and a well-polished exoskeleton."Her life is now reduced to nothing but a stain on the carpet, I regret to say." An eccentric moth follows in an overly dramatic tone."An inevitability, to be certain. We all stand powerless against the inexorable demise that is Witchsteria." The chatter and quarrel a bit amongst themselves before settling down and giving you their full attention.
[...]
"You seeked knowledge, was that so? Good. There is nothing more dangerous than ignorance. Especially here in Candlewick, where secrets are abound." "The headmaster of this place is Dr. Miles Monroe Candlewick. He is an upholden man, with fleeting interests. He may seem a stable fellow, but truthfully, he is difficult to pin down. Most of his family has disappeared along with the influence their name once carried, but two children still remain in this abode." "Miles is a good boy. A real big one as well, so you should be glad it's difficult to get on his bad side. He's not very bright, so the poor sod hasn't earned much respect from the father. I guess it's fine though, since he's not bright enough to think much of it either." "Wisteria on the other hand, is no daughter of Candlewick, but rather the spawn of demons, contracted through rituals gone real awry or terrifyingly right. She may carry the guise of a human, but make no mistake, that girl has no heart of her own." "There's a bunch others to find in this old house as well, although they can lay no claim to the family name. A burly mechanic, frilled director, motherly nurse, wolfbred groundskeeper, eccentric cook, nosy housekeeper. Time will let you know them shortly, I'm sure. Be wary of the cook though, I believe I've seen some of my brethren in that cauldron of his. Rumors claim he's even served his own kind, but I've never been witness to it."
[...]
"Candlewick Estate itself is not easily tackled. It has numerous nooks and crannies. This place has shifted with the sands of time, and things we have taken taken for granted are no longer so, now only serving to lead us astray. Regardless, the hindmost section has stood the test of time to serve as the quarters of the Candlewicks, and bars entry to anyone but a select other few. It houses many of his assembled curiosities, treasures from this world and beyond. It is not a place I would recommend for one of your age, nor anyone else. Likewise, take care when entering the cellar. You could breadcrumb all of Paris and still go astray."
[...]
"Well, there are many things to prepare for. We will keep in touch. You are valuable to us, after all. In time, we will overthrow the scourge of Candlewick, and when that happens, I hope you stand prepared."
As you prepare for sleep, the whistling never seems to reside. Cheerful tones in an impressive number of arrangements dance playfully through the halls, until you manage to sleep in spite of it. There may be much on your mind, but the day has been taxing, and you can't deny the bed being more comfortable than anything you've slept in before.
As you wake your eyes, you swear the god damn sound has still not ceased, and wonder if it has been going full force through the entire night while you slept. The cozy atmosphere from when you went to bed is no longer here as the sun blazes through your puny curtains at full force, revealing the spotless yellow walls in all their brilliance. There is little hope of dozing off for another 5-10 minutes.
You can hear the whistling carried up to your door by precise footsteps, as the hinges slowly unfold. A woman introducing herself as Mrs. Pith cheerfully informs you that it's morning, a fact that should be obvious to anyone, and that she expects to see you dressed and prepared within the hour. Breakfast is waiting at that time, apparently. When she reaches Zeke's room, you all hear the entire thing for the fourth time in a row. Afterwards, she carries off again with her tunes, presumably to do other chores.
Joined: Jun 04, 2014 Posts: 15603 Location: Freedom
Preferred Pronoun Set: they
Vincent smiles to himself. waking up is his favorite part of the day. the voices are quiet then. even Miss Pith's intrusion doesn't spark them up. every day, he manages to convince himself that they'll be quiet, that they'll finally leave him alone. it hasn't happened, but the thought is one of the few comforts left in Vincent's life, and he clings to it with a passion.
Vincent quickly gets dressed and heads downstairs. he wants to get there before anyone else, to sit in peace before the chaos begins again. plus if no one else is there, the voices will leave him alone. for now.
Joined: Sep 22, 2013 Posts: 11309 Location: Asleep at the wheel
Preferred Pronoun Set: SE / squinty / squints
James stumbles out of bed, the information he received last night by the unseen denizens of Candlewick was enough to send him running, though he has no where to go and no means of getting there. The voices of the insects rings in his ears, especially about the cook who very well may serve one of them for dinner one night. He dresses slowly, taking in the bright morning, and then heads downstairs to breakfast. Vincent is there already, which made James uncomfortable since they had never really spoken.
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