[ ...what now? He was really just leading Solomon around on a useless chase by shadily wandering the campus late at night, and it ended in the chapel. He's in a suit suitable for mass, thankfully, and not anything clergy-related.
They only need one of those here, honestly.
But since he'd intended to continue on, he's opting to slip out the side doors while Solomon's distracted by the others in the chapel. Only the door doesn't open. He'll give it a push a few times. Nothing. He can turn the handle, so it clearly isn't locked, but— ]
[Despite how often she has been coming to the chapel, Annette hadn't exactly been intent on ever sleeping here--so it definitely catches her attention when she notices what's happening at the doors. Her brow knits in concern as she approaches, hesitant.]
It's locked? That hasn't happened any time I've been here, before...
You can never know for sure. Trap a few people in a building, plan something that might bring it down on our heads... or, perhaps, we are merely being kept from meddling in something, hm?
Perhaps the Father is making good on his rules, after all. [Said quietly, calmly, though his eyes are sharp as he traces the space for any other exits.]
Dawn by Friday, I believe, was the time limit on his third edict.
[ Yeah, it wasn't going to take long for the crazy to start peeking through those roughly shorn bangs of his. Hopefully, Solomon doesn't feel too jealous that he won't be the only one to see it. ]
Of course, though I suspect every door will be the same.
[ And off he goes, taking one side of the chapel to do a few door checks. Won't open, won't one, also won't open, nope. ]
[Fandaniel starts making his rounds, and Solomon's expression darkens slightly in turn as he works opposite, even as his hand feels for something against his clergy robes. Damn these costume changes and damn his only item from home being a pathetic excuse for self-defense.
Glances are passed over to Annette and Lovecraft, and his neutral expression thins even further.
Still, he comes up empty at every turn, backing up into the wide space of the altar crossing to take a better look at the windows.]
No doors, then. No way up, either. And I'd imagine the windows are unable to be broken.
We could certainly try, but even that would hold no guarantee of an escape.
[ At least, that's the conclusion he's come to as he returns from his own side of the chapel. Fascinating place, all those nastily familiar paintings on the walls, but those aren't his focus right now. ]
It may be time to make ourselves comfortable for the night. I think we are well and truly trapped.
[Meanwhile, Lovecraft has been oh so kind to blab about Fandaniel being a little More of a being than expected, and ohhhh Solomon is fighting the urge to just swing that bat right at the bait immediately. But Annette is here, Lovecraft is here, and while Solomon is fine if he has to deal with some mess... Now is a poor time for it.]
As much as I know how excited you must be to see bloodshed, I'll have to ask you to refrain. Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself until morning?
[ He finds those to be pretty obnoxious, actually, mostly due to how the ones he could attribute to himself only show one silhouette that actually looks like how he currently appears. ]
I doubt they'll make much sense with how they're painted.
Very well. If you can identify any of mine, I shall tell you the tale behind it.
[ ...and he will no doubt demand the same from Solomon later (unless they all black out before then, oops). Then, let the guessing begin! Three paintings that cannot be easily attributed to anyone else in the chapel adorn the wall in a row:
The first is of tall, slender, berobed silhouettes cowering amongst a beautiful yet burning city, stars falling from the sky above them.
After that, a silhouette with a large feathered cap and a cape, as illustriously dressed as the limited shape and palette can manage, gazing down upon yet another ruined city. Once more, stars... falling...
And finally, three silhouettes standing on the edge of a... cliff, perhaps? Beyond them, a world hanging in inky blackness, surrounded by stars. To the left, a slender figure whose stand displays shock, surprise, and to the right, a towering figure with a scythe, and at the center? A man in a tattered robe, arms wide, standing at the very edge of the supposed cliff.
None of these figures are similarly shaped across the paintings. None look quite like Fandaniel, either, considering he has not yet worn his original robe outside the dorm as of yet. ]
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They only need one of those here, honestly.
But since he'd intended to continue on, he's opting to slip out the side doors while Solomon's distracted by the others in the chapel. Only the door doesn't open. He'll give it a push a few times. Nothing. He can turn the handle, so it clearly isn't locked, but— ]
That's interesting.
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It's locked? That hasn't happened any time I've been here, before...
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Unlocked, from what I can tell. Something on the opposite side is keeping it from opening.
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[She won't bother trying to test it for herself--it really seemed as if he was giving it an earnest go.]
I can't imagine that we'd be targeted specifically for something like this.
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now in the right place oops
As much as I'm glad our little chase is over, I wasn't exactly expecting this... the door isn't blocked on the other side, is it?
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[It's said a little too brightly as he pulls out his phone and flips it open. A beat, and his brow furrows.]
I don't suppose you've lost access to the forum, as well?
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...no access. Something must have happened.
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Perhaps the Father is making good on his rules, after all. [Said quietly, calmly, though his eyes are sharp as he traces the space for any other exits.]
Dawn by Friday, I believe, was the time limit on his third edict.
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Ah, of course. Every seven days, on the fifth day, thou shalt kill.
[ Something about that elicits an actual giggle from the man, and it just spirals from there. He laughs. Laughs! ]
Ha! Someone is going to die, and here I am, stuck in some holy building with you instead of having a front row seat to the show.
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Solomon: yeah that might as well happen, honestly]
I'm sure you'll get over your disappointment.
We're not going anywhere for the time being. If you're that determined to get out and chase death, then help me check the rest of the entryways.
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Of course, though I suspect every door will be the same.
[ And off he goes, taking one side of the chapel to do a few door checks. Won't open, won't one, also won't open, nope. ]
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Glances are passed over to Annette and Lovecraft, and his neutral expression thins even further.
Still, he comes up empty at every turn, backing up into the wide space of the altar crossing to take a better look at the windows.]
No doors, then. No way up, either. And I'd imagine the windows are unable to be broken.
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[ At least, that's the conclusion he's come to as he returns from his own side of the chapel. Fascinating place, all those nastily familiar paintings on the walls, but those aren't his focus right now. ]
It may be time to make ourselves comfortable for the night. I think we are well and truly trapped.
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[Meanwhile, Lovecraft has been oh so kind to blab about Fandaniel being a little More of a being than expected, and ohhhh Solomon is fighting the urge to just swing that bat right at the bait immediately. But Annette is here, Lovecraft is here, and while Solomon is fine if he has to deal with some mess... Now is a poor time for it.]
As much as I know how excited you must be to see bloodshed, I'll have to ask you to refrain. Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself until morning?
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[ fucking candy cane piece of sh-- ]
So why don't we both agree to behave, hm?
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[tee hee]
But behaving? Oh, I don't see why not.
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[:)]
Maybe we can figure out some of these mysterious images all over the walls while we're stuck here, as well.
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Must we?
[ He finds those to be pretty obnoxious, actually, mostly due to how the ones he could attribute to himself only show one silhouette that actually looks like how he currently appears. ]
I doubt they'll make much sense with how they're painted.
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I know there's a few I recognize, though I wouldn't call them happy stories.
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How good of a storyteller are you, Fandaniel?
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[ Well, they are stuck here. ]
Very well. If you can identify any of mine, I shall tell you the tale behind it.
[ ...and he will no doubt demand the same from Solomon later (unless they all black out before then, oops). Then, let the guessing begin! Three paintings that cannot be easily attributed to anyone else in the chapel adorn the wall in a row:
The first is of tall, slender, berobed silhouettes cowering amongst a beautiful yet burning city, stars falling from the sky above them.
After that, a silhouette with a large feathered cap and a cape, as illustriously dressed as the limited shape and palette can manage, gazing down upon yet another ruined city. Once more, stars... falling...
And finally, three silhouettes standing on the edge of a... cliff, perhaps? Beyond them, a world hanging in inky blackness, surrounded by stars. To the left, a slender figure whose stand displays shock, surprise, and to the right, a towering figure with a scythe, and at the center? A man in a tattered robe, arms wide, standing at the very edge of the supposed cliff.
None of these figures are similarly shaped across the paintings. None look quite like Fandaniel, either, considering he has not yet worn his original robe outside the dorm as of yet. ]
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