IRL: The Haunting of Garish Asylum

(the OOC)

If she hadn't already come to the glaring conclusion that she was not only incredibly stupid but utterly doomed for coming here, she might have been more freaked out by this place. Except she had months ago, so she only felt the distinct prickle of unease run through her as she stared at what used to be an asylum about fifty years back. Then it was gutted by fire and what didn't burn was usually suffocated by the sheer amount of smoke that was supposedly generated from the flames. Frankly now it looked incredibly unstable and she grinned at the thought of it coming down on their heads long before any ghosties could scare them.

Speaking of which, a few people already seemed to be losing their nerve. Which sucked for them as the bus had just left not five minutes ago and they'd already asserted that there was no signal for anyone in this place. The Professor, she'd forgotten his name almost immediately after every time he said it so she'd stop trying, was trying to calm these people down. She didn't blame them for freaking out. This whole scene screamed of the kind of horror movie that didn't have anything near resembling a happy ending. For her part, Catherine was paranoid as hell, despite the calm she displayed. The only difference between her and them was that she had come prepared. Salt, crystals, crosses, iron, witch hazel, journal containing various forms of exorcisms from many religions. You name it, she had it tucked in her leather satchel slung about her shoulders. All the same she was definitely not relishing going in that place, much less spending a week in it for this damn study she'd so foolishly volunteered to take part in. At least part of it had been updated with modern facilities. It seemed the place was going to be promoted as an alternative vacation spot in a few months.

"Can you believe this? It so isn't worth the extra credit. I should have listened to my sorority sisters."

Sparing a glance at the girl next to her, she almost felt a measure of pity for the girl. By the look of her she was only barely eighteen and was one of the few among them that were one of the Professor's actual students. Still she couldn't seem to help the remark that slipped from her lips.

"Dumb blondes die second."

"What?!"

The look the girl gave her reminded Catherine distinctly of an incident she had with the cheerleading captain back in high school. She looked horrified. It was both amusing and sad at the same time. For a few moments, she really wanted to tell her to turn around and get to walking. She believed in ghosts. She'd seen them before and while she didn't fear them, she wasn't naive enough to think her lack of fear would help matters if the asylum actually did turn out to be haunted. Luckily the Professor called everyone together then and she was saved from having to make an awkward apology. Nervous fingers played with cross, blessed not a week ago, strung around her neck. She had always been a fidgety type of girl.

"Alright now people. You have your room keys, I hope, and the map of the building. We'll be staying on the first floor. There are two bathrooms and you must have someone with you at all times. I know no one has a signal here but I've brought some walkie talkies along so we can communicate. There will be two people to each room. Names were chosen at random so no fussing. We won't go exploring tonight so everyone needs to stay within the remodeled sector of the Asylum. Any questions? No? Well then, follow me."

She could have thought of some questions, but she didn't care to ask them. It seemed no one else had either. So she just pulled at the handle of her roll away suitcase and followed the crowd past the iron gates and up the winding road to the looming five story madhouse. The blond was walking in front of her. Normally, she'd ignore the girl, but it seemed like she had been crying if the running mascara on her cheeks was any indication. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head and jogged up to the girl. Guilt was gnawing at her and as rare as such an occurrence of her feeling guilty was, she hated to feel it.

"Hey, look I'm sorry. This place is kind of cliche and so are you really. It was a bad thing to say anyways. If it makes you feel any better, assholes tend to die first. So just keep an eye on any of those here. If they disappear, then feel free to panic."

Really, in hindsight, probably not the best way to comfort a girl that seemed not to have a sense of morbid humor like she did. She'd only seemed slightly mollified before chancing another look at their 'home' for the next few days and bursting into a fresh new wave of tears. Which happened to prompt a jock-esque looking guy to wrap an arm around the blonde's shoulder and glare at her like she'd put some sort of curse on her instead of apologizing. She wondered if it was sad that she wasn't even taken aback by those kinds of looks anymore and hadn't been for years. Then writing carved into stones that lined the doorway caught her eye and she paused in her steps to look up.

One for sorrow...

"Well...that's just so terribly comforting."

A chill ran through her and she shivered before shaking her head. She knew what the words were in reference to. It was a rhyme. A child's rhyme as all foreboding rhymes seemed to be. It should have been harmless, except in situations like this, things were rarely ever harmless. Scowling at herself and this place, her fingers wrapped around the cross once more for comfort as she stepped over the threshold.

David had been nervously looking about as he followed along with the group, beginning to regret his decision to come to the asylum after all. Despite the relatively warm air about them, and the leather trench coat he wore, a chill squirmed up his spine as he stepped through the door.

He'd been near enough to the blonde and the other girl, the one with the cross, to pick up their conversation. He worked up a bit of nerve and inclined his head towards the cross girl, pushing his wire rim glasses up his nose and taking the black hat from his head, and made a minor attempt to lighten the mood.

"If it's asshole first, and blondes next, where do we tall, gawky nerd type fall on the list? I love horror movies, but I can never remember if it's jock, then nerds, ...or do the nerds come before the jocks? And let us not forget the token minorities."

With that quick burst of guts behind him, David took a few steps away, not wanting to further bother the girl. He'd have to remember to not butt into the lives of the others during this little outting any more...same rules as high school. Keep to one's own self, and al goes along much more smoothly.

'Fuck This'

"Fuck this!" Josh said defiantly as the assembled group made their way through the squaling iron gates. "You kiddin' me with all this nonsense? Fuck this!"

The defiance in his voice was only a thin veil over the utter terror he felt walking toward a burned out insane asylum. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, the closer they got to the front of the old shell of a building.

Josh had never put a lot of faith in ghosts, or ghost stories for that matter. It had always been his opinion that the world was so filled with real things to be afraid of that inventing mythological sprits seemed like a waste of time at best. When he signed up for this "study trip" it had been partially as a joke, a free way to pick up a few credits. Maybe even holler at some bitches...

"Ohhhh Fuck this..." He reiterated upon seeing the 'remodeled' hall where they were to stay. "Tell me you're kidding!"

The Professor paid him no mind, instead he continued showing the rest of the victims to their rooms. Josh spotted Catherine, close by reading an inscription on the wall. She was very cute to be certain, but at the moment, the cross she clutched around her neck was more appealing to him than the wiggle in her hips.

"See, I always thought it was 'One for the money'." I say, feigning confidence. "Looks like you came prepared at least."

"Nerds don´t die, or die doing something heroic. So chances are we are safe, just like Miss Ghost Hunter here." Paula commented in a tone of voice as dead as the atmosphere around them, while she wiped her wide, round glasses with a handkerchief. Her dark ponytail rested on an old, brown trenchcoat worthy of any 80s or 90s detective movie which covered her white blouse and pants. As she noted with disgust, she had chosen the wrong clothes for this. The white would get stained quickly in such an old place.

"In any case..." Paula continued with a sardonic grin as she tucked down her handkerchief into her white pants, "...how do you know we are in a slasher? Maybe this will be Ghostbusters 3?"

Snickering at the thought, she adjusted her glasses onto her nose, and picked up the suitcase. So far, her companions seemed a bit too jumpy at the circumstances. Although Paula had to admit the place was quite creepy, specially noticing how the wooden floors creaked, the wind whistled as it passed through the windows, and the plants seemed to have claimed the mansion´s facade.

"See, I always thought it was 'One for the money'. Looks like you came prepared at least."

Her eyes narrowed in abject annoyance as her fingers left the necklace. She'd caught his gaze at her throat and instantly felt that he was taunting her. She never expected people to share her paranoia about the occult and the like, but she at least thought they could ignore her rather than be rude about it. Not that that had ever stopped anyone before.

"Nerds don´t die, or die doing something heroic. So chances are we are safe, just like Miss Ghost Hunter here. In any case.....how do you know we are in a slasher? Maybe this will be Ghostbusters 3?"

Like that there. Oh yes, so nice to know that high school cliches would never ever die. Rolling her eyes, she didn't stop the scowl that settled over her lips before responding.

"It's referring to crows. And for your information, I sincerely hope that I'm just being a paranoid bitch right now, but I'd really rather be safe than dead."

With that, she none to gracefully stomped away, mumbling to herself. It was her. She died third. The people believed to be psychos always died because it wasn't usually until after they died that any others started to believe that something not right was happening. And she really thought that she couldn't feel worse about this expedition. Pulling keys out of her pocket, she staunchly ignored the others socializing around her and searched for the door that matched the little red tab provided on the key ring.

"It's referring to crows. And for your information, I sincerely hope that I'm just being a paranoid bitch right now, but I'd really rather be safe than dead."

"A'right..." Josh said to her back, clearly thrown off balance by the unexpectedly curt response. "I-uh, I'd rather not be dead either... for what its worth."

The last bit was mumbled under his breath, Catherine had already stomped away and made no move to turn back to hear what he had to say. Instead he turned his head to the trenchcoat twins, pulling his pack of Marlboro Lights from the pocket of his jeans.

"I don't know which is more foreboding, the atmosphere or the company..." He muttered, lighting up his cigarette in the hopes of calming his nerves. "They don't mind if I smoke in here do ya think? Its not like I could do any MORE damage, right?"

Yet again Josh found himself struggling vainly to inject levity into the morbid and dark situation. Perhaps it was in vain.

Moreover, the thought didn't even occur to him that while his living counterparts might not object to his smoking habit, the spirits around him who had died in a fire might have reservations about allowing mortals wielding flame, stomping through their sanctuary.

Paula watched Catherine stomp away. Was it something she said? Ah, yes, it must have been. She looked, and acted, quite nervous. And it didn´t seem like David and her own jokes did anything to help with that. Also, while it was true Catherine had been a bit less than pleasant with the blonde from before, Paula thought she had more in common with Cath than with the jock troop.

Paula followed Catherine meekly, a bit wary of approaching her after making her angry, and took her suitcase with both hands, holding it low like some kind of small protective wall.

"Hey, Cath, I´m sorry if I said anything wrong... but, really, this place is burnt down. I don´t understand why you´re so afraid of this place. I mean..."

Truth was, Paula didn´t know how to end that. She just looked around, rose her shoulders (which her being six feet tall probably made her look like the geeky girlfriend of Frankestein), and then relaxed them, trying to somehow tell Cath what she couldn´t quite get across with words. That this place probably didn´t have ghosts in it. With a sigh, she started rummaging in her other pocket, and pulled out her own key. It had a red tab with it, but Paula didn´t see a number on it.

"Hey, mine doesn´t have a number..."

David watched Catherine depart to her room, and frowned as he pulled his key from an inner jacket pocket. Great start to the weekend, who else can we piss off now, hmm?

He looked to Josh, and gave a dismissive wave of one hand towards the cigarette. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em...I'm heading in for now, so it won't bother me. And who knows, maybe you can beat the spirits to killing you off; kind of like giving the finger to Death...'You can't fire me, I quit' mentality."

Strange...he wasn't normally so talkative to strangers. Must be the nerve-high from being in the ruined asylum. David figured he'd press onward with it, and turned his attention to Paula. "I'd say either flag down the Prof. for another key, or just watch what room nobody takes. Or..." Here his mouth turned up in a nervous half of a smile. "And this is not intended as a line...see if someone looks friendly enough to room with."

That said, he openned his door...room five, which was a good sign being his lucky number...and stepped inside. Much as he'd have liked to stay and meet the others, he thought it might look like he was waiting around for Paula to ask about his own room. The paranoia mouse in his head seemed to love spinning it's little wheel at him much too much.

"Hey, Cath, I´m sorry if I said anything wrong... but, really, this place is burnt down. I don´t understand why you´re so afraid of this place. I mean... Hey, mine doesn´t have a number..."

Watching Paula shrug, she shook her head as she realized she was already standing next to her own door and busied herself with opening the thing. Part of her wanted to do the creepy thing and ask her if she felt it too. That determined feeling of being watched. The same feeling kids got when they feared something was under the bed or in their closet. Except asking that wouldn't help matters and she really wasn't in the mood for casual conversation.

"I'm not afraid...yet. I'm just cautious."

"I'd say either flag down the Prof. for another key, or just watch what room nobody takes. Or... And this is not intended as a line...see if someone looks friendly enough to room with."

She was paranoid and she knew it. She was acutely aware that she had an impressionable mind and that her reading material of choice growing up had probably done more harm than good to her poor little psyche. She accepted it and allotted for it. Which was exactly why she was not scared even though instinct told her to get the hell out while she still could. She couldn't count how many times she'd watch or read something creepy and be looking over her shoulder for weeks after because of it. David's sudden voice snapped her out of her self-centered thoughts long enough to remember that Paula was sans room at the moment. So, she offered her own as a haven for now. Unless she wanted to go with David, which was entirely up to her.

"You can wait here until my roommate comes. If no one comes, then I guess you're it. Either way, no harm, no foul."

Not waiting for an answer, she left the door open before walking in and claiming the bead that was closest to a rather large window on the opposite side of the room. Throwing her suitcase on the chosen bed, movement caught her eye and she tilted her head to look at her own reflection. It was a little known fact about her, she really hated mirrors. they were like her fear of zombies, utterly irrational but something she couldn't shake all the same. Heaving a small sigh, she decided to ignore it. There was really nothing she could do and giving into her fears would just mark her a coward, if not to others than to herself. Now that she was here, first thing was first, bending down, she took the bed by its' frame and dragged it a good five inches from the wall. Then she put her leather bag on the bed as well and busied herself with a container of salt, spreading it around the bed in a thin circle. Salt was a purifier. A lot of different sects were iffy on how to properly deal with evil spirits, but salt was what the oldest of these factions always agreed upon.

That twitch was back, the one in her right knee. It acted up whenever she was nervous... Ever since that accident when she was 12 that left her with a half kneecap. She called it her 'bad mojo' alarm. It had twitched insanely when the crazy lady moved in next door, it went nuts when she first met Rich's now ex-wife.

Right now it was doing a full off spasm that left her leg jumping.

SJ was really starting to regret offering to help her sister out. She had gotten obsessed with the shows like Ghost Hunters and the like, making her want to research the area and find out if there was even more ghosts nearby. When she saw that there was a group from SJ's college heading to explore Garish, she told SJ to go sign u

She never mentioned the whole 'staying there' part.

SJ felt sick. She could barely even watch those TV shows without feeling queasy.

"I... I think I'm gonna puke," She muttered as she followed the others inside the refurbished part of the building, hugging her bag so tightly to her chest that her knuckles were pure white. Her room key was in one of those hands; she couldn't remember exactly which one at the moment, unable to really feel either of them. Something was poking into the back of her left one. Must've been in the right.

Finding her room, she dropped her bag onto the bed long enough to unzip it, taking out the little stuffed black cat. She really didn't care if the others made fun of her for it; Spuuki was a comfort to her. Nothing else in her really seemed that comforting, that was for certain. Still clutching the stuffed cat to her neck, she peeked out the small window in the room, finding nothing but half dead grass patches and a knotted old tree.

How pretty.

Ugh, it was gonna be awhile yet, he could tell. This stay wasn't going to go by quick, no matter how much he wished it would. He would've rather not play summer camp in an abandoned asylum of all places, but the Professor didn't look like he was gonna change his mind and suggest they stay at a hotel instead. But Adam'd have to suffer, hopefully not literally, through this; he needed to credits badly. He moved into his designated room, tossing his bag against the wall and throwing himself onto his new bed, bouncing until he laid on his back.

He knew a few of the people along for the trip; his way of knowing somebody would be having a decent conversation once or twice that he actually remembered. Either way, it's not like he was hard to forget. He was the quiet guy, the one that hardly said a thing, but offered a surprisingly interesting opinion once upon a blue moon. But being the quiet guy didn't work in his favor not, not in a place like this. It's always the quiet ones that snap and come in with a sawed-off and shoot up the place, after all. Well, he didn't a shotgun, nor the intention on gunning anybody down, but if things started to get messy, he'd be a definite suspect for the lovely paranoid minds to accuse.

Of course, that's when his joking sense of humor rang through his shell, a smirk rolling upon his lips as he decided to treat the folks to a little song he had heard on a show awhile back.

"Anyone in the mood for a song? Listen up; heard this one awhile back. Ahem... Total slaughter, total slaughter... I won't leave a single man alive... Lai-de-die-de-die... Genocide... Standing in an ocean of blood... Let's begin the killing time... Hahahaha, oh man," he chuckled to himself as he heard a few groans along with a few 'shut up's. "Sorry, sorry..." he mumbled, sneering to himself. Although, he could've swore he heard another voice mumble 'nice song' amongst the replies he recieved. Odd, he didn't recognize that voice. Oh well...

"Yeah, well... tell you what..." Paula turned to David for a second. "If somebody comes and claims Cath´s side, we´ll share room, Ok?"

Paula swiftly ducked into the room Cath claimed, and closed the door. She rose an eyebrow at Cath, and snorted. Yeah, not taking David´s line as ´a line´ was pretty difficult. Although Paula had never suspected David capable of being that up-front about things. That, or he was desperate, but in this place...

Brushing that aside quickly, Paula claimed the other bed in the room as she glanced at Cath´s curious ritual. Salt. Paula was reminded of that old movie with the three witches from Salem, or at least she thought they were from Salem, she didn´t remember that well. Anyway, after leaving her suitcase on the bed, she stood up and took off her trenchcoat, resting it on an hanger by the door. As she did so, someone´s morbid song came through the door, along with the muffled replies of the rest of the guys.

"Hmmm... that reminds me of this thing I did when I was in London with some people from a nearby city." Paula started as she opened the suitcase, grinning, and started unpacking the few clothes she´d chosen to take. "While in the subway, we got word that there were some power cuts now and then. You know, it was summer and the ACs were at full blast everywhere. So, everybody was a bit nervous. And then I said, ´come on, what are the chances of something happening noooOOOOOWWWWWW!"

At that, Paula couldn´t help giggling. "Everybody was so angry! Specially when I repeated that on the flight back..." She sighed at that fond memory, before sitting on the bed, looking at Cath. "You know, it´s Ok if you´re scared. I don´t really mind. I mean, I understand not everybody is brave enough, or thick as I am, to remain calm like a stone wall. But if you want, I´ll go with you so you´re never alone, Ok?"

That said, Paula stood up to her full six feet, towering above Cath, to give her an impression of strength. Which given how little exercise she actually made wasn´t really that impressive, but Paula was only thinking of cheering up her ´friend´.

"Besides, if you really want safety..." Paula leaned over her suitcase, and still smiling at Cath, pulled out a swiss army knife. Small enough to fit in a pocket, coloured red, and a bit worn, it didn´t look like much. But then, Paula slid out a small blade that looked quite sharp. "... I suggest you start with the material plane." Sliding the blade back into the body of the SAK, she tossed it onto the bed at Cath´s side. "I mean, yeah, ghosts are scary and a pain in the ass, but the point of many old scare-stories was pointing out human beings are the worst monsters out there. Zombie movies, when properly done, have the humans be the main characters´ worst enemies. And I have heard far more news about deaths caused by criminals than by The Dark Ones."

Paula smiled at Cath, and turned to put her neatly folded clothes inside the nearest wardrobe. Just as she opened the door, though, she stopped and turned to Cath, still smiling. "Shit. Gone from nerd, to asshole, and then right on to useful. That makes me second-to-last, doesn´t it?" After saying that jokingly, she started putting her clothes in place.

David was settling himself in when the singing started, and he couldn't help a little shiver at the oddly familiar words. He might've heard the song before somewhere, but he couldn't pin it down if he had.

Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it and his hat in the closet and tossed his bag in after them...only then remembering the tape player inside, and he knelt to check he hadn't finally destroyed the thing. A quick inspection showed that no, no damage was done this time either, and he could enjoy his audio books another day longer. In fact, with nothing better at the moment, he figured he may as well do just that, picking out a personal favorite from the "Nightmares & Dreamscapes" collection. He lay back on his bed and shut his eyes, focusing more on the sound, and clicked on his walkman.

After only a matter of minutes though, he switched it off and tried listening for voices around him, hearing a low murmur here and there through the slightly too-thin walls. Thankfully, the morbid singing was no longer among them.

She let Paula ramble on, taking notice of how the girl was already claiming the rest of the space as hers, as she zipped open her own suitcase. She didn't unpack her clothes, just pulled out the toiletries and zipped everything back up. She'd always hated that part of vacations, unpacking only to repack again soon enough. Her step-father was an ass, but vacations with him were somehow worse. Everything had always been rushed and exhausting, not to mention that his temper would grow shorter from being tired and shelling out his hard earned money on their 'ungrateful' selves. Not that she helped matters much. No matter how determined she would be in the beginning to keep the piece and her mouth shut during those family trips, she invariably would do or say something to tick him off. If keeping all her stuff in one place would save time, she'd rather just live out of her suitcase. Therefore it went in the wardrobe as it was.

"Shit. Gone from nerd, to asshole, and then right on to useful. That makes me second-to-last, doesn't it?"

Realizing that her little speech had neared its' end, she blinked from her own thoughts and let her gaze slide over to the blade resting on her temporary bed. Sighing, she shook her head and picked up the thing before handing it back to Paula. If she had been in a different mood, she probably would have studied the weapon closer. She wasn't an expert on that sort of thing by any measure of the word, but she did have a certain fondness for sharp edges.

"I'm well aware of the faults of people. If you can avoid it, don't disturb the salt. Breaking the circle renders its' properties pretty much null and void."

She didn't speak anymore after that. Humanity as a whole had never done much to impress her. Growing up, she was never terribly popular for reasons she had yet to assign logic to. She'd learned to defend herself fairly well in her opinion. At least she could hold her ground in a fair fight, thanks to knowing some fun pressure points. Her main weapon though had always been in knowing people and figuring out what exactly made them tick. Manipulation was too easy in her opinion. Though it had once been easier. She'd never been quite sure if that was because she blocked most of her empathy now or because people rarely suspected children of devious tendencies. Either way, it stopped being fun a long time ago. Now she pretty much let people alone. If they hated her, fine. At least it would be an honest hate.

Stepping onto the mattress, she lifted herself from the ground and over the salt, twirling in place before sitting down. The prickly sensation was still there, but it wasn't getting any worse so she took that as a good sign. Opening her leather bag, she pulled out its' contents one by one. Three containers of salt. A handful of rose quartz. Ziploc bags filled with various clippings of plants, each carefully labeled. A pen knife. Chalk. A thin iron chain. Two notebooks. A small corked bottle filled with belladonna. Two crosses. One Star of David and an ankh. Religious symbols were always tricky fun. Most people thought they'd work no matter what, but they hinged on faith. If you didn't believe in what they represented then they were about as useful as the materials they were crafted with. Looking up at who she supposed was her room mate now, she quirked a smile and laughed softly.

"Bet you wouldn't guess it by looking at me, but I'm not a Wiccan."

"I'm well aware of the faults of people. If you can avoid it, don't disturb the salt. Breaking the circle renders its' properties pretty much null and void."

Paula took the knife back, a bit let down, and stuffed it carelessly down into her pocket as she continued unpacking. She didn´t quite understand Cath. "As you wish. But I think it is pretty unwise to guard yourself against something that´s not even proven to exist while letting yourself open to an attack that´s far more probable." She was a bit weirded out when Cath started taking a number of items out and onto her bed which reminded her of sorcery. Paula simply shrugged, and finished the unpacking. If Catherine was beyond her understanding, well, Paula wasn´t going to try going further into it. It seemed Cath wasn´t interested in talking to her, anyway, and Paula wasn´t that sure that she was an interesting conversation partner herself in any case. And Cath must have her reasons to be like that. What Paula did know, was that Catherine was pretty different to the average person, even more than she was, and that probably made her a target. No wonder she wasn´t that talkative, specially after her own slip-up.

"Bet you wouldn't guess it by looking at me, but I'm not a Wiccan."

Paula sat down on her bed, and crossed her legs, resting one arm on them which she used to support her head. Ah, so perhaps the only way to get through to Cath was in those topics? Then again, that seemed to work with everyone else. At least that was normal.

"Well, I´m not even sure what a Wiccan is. Where I come from, we don´t have that big of a... well, we don´t have that many people interested in the Occult. And although I´ve been through some times when I was interested in that kind of thing, I´ve had other things to think about. But if you want to talk to me, it´s not like I have any bedroom activities planned." Paula gave Cath a bit of a smile, and started to relax.

"Well, I'm not even sure what a Wiccan is. Where I come from, we don't have that big of a... well, we don´t have that many people interested in the Occult. And although I've been through some times when I was interested in that kind of thing, I've had other things to think about. But if you want to talk to me, it's not like I have any bedroom activities planned."

Laughing softly to herself, she shook her head, hands busy placing everything carefully back to its' rightful place. She liked the bag. It was old and soft because of it, blessed because she didn't want to take chances if she could avoid. The priest had looked at her so oddly when she'd asked him to do that. Though it also might have been because she wasn't Catholic and refused his offer to hear her confession. Her sins were between her and God and not for his ears.

"Ah well, for all intents and purposes, it's a witch. Personally I think they just like the fancy name in order to validate themselves better in the eyes of others."

Which wasn't entirely true. She had some friends who were practicing Wiccans that would have loved to string her up by her toes if they heard her say that. Not that it would stopped her. For all the meaning they seemed to inject into everything, that didn't deny the pure and simple truth. In her mind, all dealings with magic was witchcraft and something she normally refused to take part in. There were too many variables for her liking and too many overly confident amatuers thinking their mortal selves could control the paranormal just cause the whim took them to try. The most she allowed herself was things like this that had long been resigned to the stuff of wives' tales.

"I live in the middle of nowhere. Most of the people come from long lines of bible thumpers. So if there are devil worshippers out there or something like that, I don't know about it. Well unless you count that trend back in high school with the goth kids."

She never had quite gotten that trend. Suddenly it became oh so trendy to wear black and court death with every word and then dabble in demonic. You know just regular high school stuff. Half the time she'd been either amused or dumbstruck by the absolute wave of stupidity that had seemed to overtake her classmates. Flopping back on the bed, she let her eyes wander to the tiles in the ceiling and tried not to let her imagination wonder to various horror movie scenes she had seen dealing with such things.

"So where are you from, anyways? I'm not very good with discerning accents."

Paula listened in silence. Ah, so wiccans were the same as witches. More or less what she figured, although sometimes she thought they had a deity in particular they prayed to, or something like that. Maybe they wanted to fuck Satan. She was sure there people crazy enough to want that, and crazy enough to believe Satan would be interested in that.

"So where are you from, anyways? I'm not very good with discerning accents."

That question made Paula smile. It seemed they were sort of connecting at last. Although it could be curiousity, and that´s it. Paula wasn´t that proficient with English yet. But before thinking any more about that, she answered.

"Spain. Southern Spain, to be more specific. Notice how I pronounce words in a rougher way, and more slowly, but also in a lively way. Of course, that´s just because of the dialect. Our language varies from province to province as easily as in the USA, I think, although we actually have zones where there are very old languages that remain more or less apart from the general mixing. But I´m not sure if you want to hear about that, and I´m not an expert either."

Paula shrugged, and moved further up onto the bed. Then, she crossed her legs again, this time Indian style. For comfort, she put her back against the wall beside the bed, and set her glasses down gently on the windowsill. Closing her eyes, she sighed, and relaxed. The bed felt rather nice, and she also was pretty comfortable without her glasses. As if some weight had been lifted... off her nose.

"My hometown is on the Mediterranean´s shore. It´s not that big a city, but it is the province´s capital, so we have at least one American-style mall, with lots of stores of different kinds. Not that I care much about that, though. Oh, oh! And I remember a couple of sinister things you might be interested about! I don´t think you Americans know about that kind of... well, stories."

Paula opened her eyes, and looked out of the window at the over-grown plants on the walls. She was invaded by a strange feeling of nostalgia as she spoke, and her smile became a little softer. "Forgive me if I take for granted that you might be interested in sinister things, though... I just suppose that someone who makes circles of salt around her bed might be curious about dark stories..."

"Spain. Southern Spain, to be more specific. Notice how I pronounce words in a rougher way, and more slowly, but also in a lively way. Of course, that´s just because of the dialect. Our language varies from province to province as easily as in the USA, I think, although we actually have zones where there are very old languages that remain more or less apart from the general mixing. But I´m not sure if you want to hear about that, and I´m not an expert either."

Turning her head, she stared at Paula blindly for a moment, listening, before nodding her head. It didn't surprise her that there were differences in tone and speech in Spain. Now that she was paying attention, she'd probably be able to place it if she heard it again. She herself probably sounded like one of the cast of Redemption though. There was a time when she'd sounded more 'dignified' as her grandmother put it, but over the years her accent had thickened until she sounded less like a classic southern belle and more like the kinds of people that were known for marrying their cousins. Most days it amused her, but sometimes she was appalled at what unconsciously slipped out of her mouth.

"My hometown is on the Mediterranean´s shore. It´s not that big a city, but it is the province´s capital, so we have at least one American-style mall, with lots of stores of different kinds. Not that I care much about that, though. Oh, oh! And I remember a couple of sinister things you might be interested about! I don´t think you Americans know about that kind of... well, stories. Forgive me if I take for granted that you might be interested in sinister things, though... I just suppose that someone who makes circles of salt around her bed might be curious about dark stories..."

She couldn't help it, the girl's sudden enthusiasm that sprang up only to be reigned in again cracked her up. Did she seriously present that eerie of a picture that she was thought of as a threat if poked the wrong way, or was it just that Paula didn't want to make the atmosphere awkward by accidentally offending her American sensibilities? As much as she tended to purposely promote fear on occasion, she really wished people wouldn't be so reserved around her. She was up front about what she thought about things and really couldn't see a good reason why everyone else couldn't do the same. Ah, but Paula really did seem to be worried, so she tilted her head and grinned.

"Sinister stories are my bread and butter."

Oh wait, maybe that wasn't the best image of herself to be giving. It was true enough she tended to gravitate to the dark and dreary, but she liked happy, fluffy stories just as well. After a conversation about the occult, she really didn't want to seem like she was interested in ritual sacrifices and necromancy and the like, no matter how much she might joke about those things. An explanation was in order.

"When I was younger all I read were myths, legends, and fairy tales. Real fairy tales, not the sugar coated Disney crap that people tend to take as the original nowadays. So I've never really been adverse to the darker side of things.... I think they can be like the night sky revealing the glimmering stars."

Her voice, oddly enough, had taken on a faintly dream-like quality with the last sentence. She had a rather romantic mind and the solace of the night was just about one of her favorite things in the world. Especially ones in the middle of winter where the stars burned like flames and her face and lungs would sting with cold. The night just seemed so calm compared to the day. It was rare that she got to talk about such foolish fancies of hers like that, though. Her family and even her friends all seemed to be firmly grounded in the logistics of mundane reality.

"Umm.."

She hadn't heard the knock, nor the creak of the door, but at the sound of another voice, her eyes flitted towards the blonde girl from earlier. Her eyes were still faintly red, but she looked fairly calm now and a little sheepish as her gaze drifted over herself and Paula.

"Dinner is in five minutes."

Paula kept looking out of the window to shield herself, sort of. She figured she had insulted Cath either by wanting to share some dark story with her, or by suddenly jumping back when faced with that, and offered to shut up. Perhaps she should have just told the stories and be done with that, come hell or heaven, but she wasn´t that sure about their value after mentioning them. Paula knew for a fact that she couldn´t tell a joke, so telling a dark story was even less probable.

"Sinister stories are my bread and butter."

She blinked, and relaxed, her shoulders falling a bit and a soft exhalation coming out from between her lips. Good, she hadn´t screwed up, after all. Although looking at Cath, she wasn´t that sure. At least until she spoke again.

"When I was younger all I read were myths, legends, and fairy tales. Real fairy tales, not the sugar coated Disney crap that people tend to take as the original nowadays. So I've never really been adverse to the darker side of things.... I think they can be like the night sky revealing the glimmering stars."

Paula couldn´t help her smile widening all of a sudden. Her hand came up to her mouth, with the palm open and the fingers spread. Probably a habit picked up from some anime. She had felt a bit of a strange reaction, as if she wanted to laugh, but not in an offensive way. Her smile wasn´t the smile precluding a cruel, mocking laugh. The truth was...

"God, Cath... that was a really cute thing to say...!"

She was almost breathless. If that wasn´t a proof of connection, Paula didn´t know what else could be. She moved her hand off to the side, using it to soften her smile. Her fingers brushed her lips as they moved off, the gesture helping her. Paula had never gone so deep into this kind of situation, when she could have a look at someone´s true self. It was a strange, heart-warming, eye-brightening, breath-taking, cheek-flushing experience.

"Dinner is in five minutes."

Paula was quite startled by the sudden intrusion, but all she showed for it was a sudden, out-of place blinking. She took her glasses and put them on, adjusting them carefully, brushing away the bangs of dark hair that framed her face. She was too taken with Cath´s romantic side to even remember to answer to the blonde´s message. Although chances were she would not have answered anyway. She let actions speak for herself, and she exemplified that by getting off the bed and reaching for her trenchcoat. She liked it because it wasn´t treated leather, or black, like one of those Matrix poseurs´. It was old, brown, worn... nothing modern. It could easily have been used in some seventies´ detectives movie.

And it was warm on top of her light, white blouse and fitting white pants. The difference between being warm, or cool, was on putting her coat on, or off.

After that, she pushed her suitcase off her bed and let it rest at the feet, figuring she would want to just crash down on it after dinner, and whatever happened afterwards. Turning to Cath with a friendly smile under her wide, geeky glasses, she asked. "Shall we go down? Unless you want to perform some ritual, or something."

When the knock came at his own door, David came off the bed and openned it, smiling and thanking the girl for the message. He checked his current attire of a black buttoned down shirt and slacks, and decided it was good enough for the meal, if a bit rumpled from laying down in them. That didn't concern him overly much, as he never put much stock into such things...presentable was far enough for his taste, so long as he was comfortable.

After stowing his bag in the closet, David headed out into the halls in search of the dining room. As he walked, he took his time glancing around at the interior of the asylum. The newly refurbished areas were all well and good, but he hoped to find they would be eating in the older sections. Provided that section had survived, it would be an interesting treat to see, if a bit spooky to be among the first living people to dine in the dining room since who knew when. He was half aware of others around him and kept to one side of the path so as not to be in the way.

As the girl left to pass the message on, Paula's comment came back to haunt her. Letting a hand smack against her face, she fought the urge to groan in embarrassment. Stupid, foolish, little girl that she was. Someone happens to mention a subject she's interested and she suddenly does something like getting all poetic about it. It didn't matter that she happened to write poetry anyways, or that she wanted to be a published author some day. What mattered was that people usually either took her seriously or they didn't and little things like a slip of the tongue could destroy her image at this early a stage of introductions. Stupid, stupid girl giving into a moment of fancy like that.

"Shall we go down? Unless you want to perform some ritual, or something."

Venturing a glance through her fingers, she nodded and heaved herself off the bed, careful her feet landed far away from the line she had drawn. Paula had donned a coat, but Catherine was comfortable enough as she was. Even if it turned out the kitchen or wherever they were eating, was chilly, she'd just bear with it. A spare glance to her bag, she decided to leave it. She may believe in the paranormal but she was still hoping that the serious creep factor this place gave off would manifest as nothing more than that.

"No. Salt should be enough."

The only rituals she knew for this sort of thing involved blood anyways. Salt was simple and easy enough to clean up before they left this place. Grabbing her room key, she shoved it into her pocket before following the small crowd of people meandering further into the re-modeled sector of this place. Dinner wasn't fancy. Just various pizzas. Apparently their groceries wouldn't be delivered until early tomorrow morning and it wasn't hard to tell that a few would probably be hitching a ride back when that happened.

Catherine gnawed on a breadstick as she idly stared out of one of the windows. The Professor had settled into an adult version of story time, building up the atmosphere of the ruined building. It was true that a fire was what had done everything in, but there had been rumors before then that the people here had been experimented on for some nefarious purpose or other. There were various murmurs and little sounds of shock and dismay, but she ignored them. It wasn't news to her after all. Asylums had once been something akin to hell. Once you were checked in, you had little chance of getting out and people didn't care if you were practically tortured in the name of medicine. They were a bit better now, but she wouldn't step foot in one of those places if she could help it.

Adam, of course, sat as far away from everyone else at the tables would allow, hording a few slices of pepperoni pizza to himself. He had come out of his room, ignoring the several sets of glaring and hateful eyes; they must've not liked his singing, oh well. He rolled his eyes as the Professor started up a nice story about fires and experiments, doing nothing to lessen the eeriness of the place. Even in the refurbished area, it was still a bit creepy. "Bedtime story before we go to sleep? Peachy," he muttered to himself. His cruel sense of humor that had brought about his morbid song earlier had retreated back into his shell, leaving behind the quiet guy everybody knew; maybe not everybody, but you get the point.

"Hope the ghosts aren't hungry, in any sense of the word..." he whispered to himself before he took a bite out of the slice of pizza he had been holding.

The pizzas surprised Paula more than the Professor´s tales. Yeah, she figured that an asylum was the best place to experiment on people. People considered insane, isolated... what was not to like? It wasn´t like anybody would care. Hell, Paula didn´t care that much about what was happening half the world around, so how could she even begin to care about what happened decades ago, in an abandoned asylum in another country? It wasn´t that she was cruel, she was just not that impressed about business that happened so long ago.

The pizza, on the other hand, was at the right place, at the right time, and most important of all... delicious. She had a few slices of pizza with bacon and cheese, and sat on an armchair to let her stomach digest it all leisurely.

Another problem Paula had with those stories, was that they were just that. Stories. Paula hardly ever believed something without proof, or at least a Wikipedia citation. Still, what really pissed her off was all the people acting all surprised and scared. God, how stupid. Paula hated stupidity and lack of common sense more than anything else, and these people seemed to fit just that. Another reason she hated socializing, was she found it too easy to dislike people.

Noticing Catherine looking out of a window, she walked over to her, and looked outside as well. "Hmmmm... wonder if we can visit the gardens. Did they have a garden here?"

She turned to the Professor and the other students, and grinned. "Maybe we´ll find someone buried around. After all, if they were experimenting with people, the bodies of those who didn´t make it must be here, somewhere..."

David took in the tales being told by the Proffesor as nothing more than a quick history lesson...he had expected as much had taken pace in the asylum way back when, such practices were all too common. It didn't do anything to dispel his general unease about the place mind you, but at least it didn't worsen matters either.

As he finished his third piece of the regular cheese pizza...basic, yes, but always a classic and his own personal favorite...he spotted Catherine and Paula at one of the windows, and approached them sheepishly, and cleared his throat a little, thinking back on his comment to Cath when they'd first arrived.

"I wanted to apologize for before, for what I said...I was trying to break up my own nervousness with some humor, but I forgot I'm not as funny as I like to think sometimes. And I don't want to get off on a bad foot with anyone, if we're gonna be here all weekend together."

sorry that this took so fucking long

"Hmmmm... wonder if we can visit the gardens. Did they have a garden here?"

"Orchards.."

Not that the answer mattered overly much. Paula was already focused on the others and moving away from her. She didn't know too much about this place's history, just the general things about most asylums. They'd probably have been self-sufficient way out here. So vegetable gardens and fruit orchards weren't out of the question. Her response was really born out of the trees she could see. They looked like Japanese Plum trees. She'd climbed them enough to recognize the shape of the leaves.

"Maybe we´ll find someone buried around. After all, if they were experimenting with people, the bodies of those who didn't make it must be here, somewhere..."

"Very good question... Paula. They do indeed have a cemetery behind the wing reserved for the church."

The Professor was probably a little overly cheery all things considered, but at least he enjoyed what he was doing. Looking around the room, he entreated everyone to ask him about other things.

Lips formed words, but she didn't give them voice as she silently sang along with the song that presently occupied her mind. There was a time that she would have sang out, loud and clear, with little care about being overheard, but those days were so long ago that only she remembered them now. It was raining now. She wondered if anyone else noticed since it was only sprinkling and not storming loud enough for everyone to attend the natural occurrence. Pale fingers pressed against the cool glass, almost feeling the drops that pounded down on the other side. How much longer could she ignore them like this? She was being rude, but it wasn't like she was the host of this little get together and all of their little worries were just clambering for attention. Heaving a sigh, she closed her eyes and let her forehead rest against the glass as well. She'd ignore them for a little longer.

"I wanted to apologize for before, for what I said...I was trying to break up my own nervousness with some humor, but I forgot I'm not as funny as I like to think sometimes. And I don't want to get off on a bad foot with anyone, if we're gonna be here all weekend together."

Moments passed before she realized the words were meant for her and even more time was wasted with her looking at him before what he was saying fully sunk in. Not that any of this did anything to erase the confusion and mild annoyance from her features. Frankly, she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Wait....what? Does it look like I'm angry or hurt about something you've done? Don't apologize needlessly."

The last sentence was punctuated with a finger in his face. If her brothers were here, they'd recognize the look on her face very well. She was in lecture mode. People apologizing pointlessly or without meaning it was just one of her pet peeves. She felt it cheapened the sentiment.