Baby, Say Your Prayers

[Gats]

Like the beginning of any good adventure, it was a dark and stormy night.

Or at least, it would be sometime soon. The low rumble of thunder in the distance was pretty unmistakable and you could see flashes of lightning on the horizon. The wind was starting to pick up and the weyrd fell silent-- no bugs, no birds, no bats. Nothing. Just the rustle of wind through the trees and that faraway rumble of things yet to come. You weren't sure if it was thunder anymore or not. There was something off about it. It was too regular, too musical?

You weren't sure if it was the deep beat of drums or the low hum of an organ, but it certainly wasn't coming from the shifting clouds in the sky. It was calling to you, though, even without any words. It was beckoning you out past the village, out past where you thought anyone or anything belong. The bright flashes across the sky were the only source of light. Out, out, out past barren fields to where the grass grew so tall it was near your waist. The grass whispered as it swayed in the ever increasing winds, further, further.

And then you saw it, stretching out of the grass looking entirely out of place. Abandoned. White paint flaked off the stones walls of the old church, or, based on how little paint was actually left, maybe it flaked onto building. On inspection, the interior had faired little better. Whatever gild or gold had been in this place at one point in time was gone now. The altar was bare. Most of the wooden pews had begun to rot and the floor was scattered with debris. You were pretty sure they were pieces of the ceiling. Looking up, you were positive they were pieces of the ceiling. There was no way this roof was going to hold through the oncoming storm.

You could see an organ up in what had to have been the choir loft. It's pipes were dented and rusting and definitely not making any sound. Odd. Now that you were inside, it was quiet again. Crumbled statues were set up in alcoves lining the walls of the main aisle. They had been humanoid you thought, maybe angels? You weren't sure. All you could really make out for certain were the inscriptions etched into the stone beneath the pedestals. In no particular order they read:

The Saint of Awe
The Saint of Duty
The Saint of Foresight
The Saint of Humility
The Saint of Joy
The Saint of Obedience
The Saint of Patience
The Saint of Tact
The Saint of Truth

Wait a minute.

You could... See all of this? There was no way lightning through the impeccable stained glass windows was giving you enough light to see everything in an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere during the dead of night. Someone had lit candles? How odd.

notes

• Multiple characters are a-ok! Please limit shinies to one per character though.
• Feel free to post among yourselves as much as you'd like before my next post. This may change at any given point depending on what y'all get up to.
• Requiae are pretty nasty, so if you would like some nice ol' bodily harm to go with 'em (or if you'd like to stay far from it!) send me a pm. Consent is key. <3
• You can send me preferences at any time and change them at any time. Once all the deathbirds have shown themselves, I'll request them from anyone who hasn't sent me something.

next post
two weeks-ish

attending
Geoff, Cyprena, Haelys, Zenith, Tzimekh, Omorose

[Gats]

7/9 Requiae
0/1 Grim
WILD
1/1 Remnant
Netzach -- Geoff
1/1 Scourge
Aleah -- Omorose
1/1 Phantom
Armund -- Haelys
1/1 Spectre
Gurulgh -- Tzimekh
1/1 Allure
Scarlett -- Zenith
1/1 Lament
Ariel -- Cyprena
0/1 Legacy
WILD (claimed)
1/1 Omen
Loki -- Zenith

The Saint of Joy Grim
There isn’t anything really special about this Grim’s appearance. She’s of middling size for her rank, with mottled and matte black and rust feathers that are more reminiscent of scab than anything else. That doesn’t mean her pinions are anything less than razor sharp, though. Or that she has a good attitude or something. Because she doesn’t. She’s the opposite of joyful actually. She’s generally rather cross, not the least bit kind or caring, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t like you. She’ll supply you with plenty of pecks and scratches any time you’re in the same room and utter a bunch of croaking noises that you could swear were insults. You might ask yourself why you’ve kept her around this long and, well, she might not like you but that doesn’t mean she isn’t loyal. And if you’re into schadenfreude? She’s the perfect Requia for you. Because her favorite meal? Other people’s joy.

The Saint of Patience Remnant
For a dangerous, knife winged vulture creature, this Remnant’s got flash. His razor pinions are more of a gold than a yellowed bone, glittering delightfully against the rest of his glossy black plumage— which, by the way, there’s never a feather out of place. If you try to touch them though, trust me, he’ll leave you with all your feathers out of place. He’s a bit violent in that sense. Otherwise, as long as he doesn’t get mussed up, he’s fairly docile, preferring instead to primp and preen and letting the Grim do the dirty work. And, you know, plan. Looks aren’t everything, after all, and looking good is quite the cover for one of the most devious minds you’ll find in a Requia. It’s all a long con to him and, one day, when you least expect it, he’ll get every unspeakable thing he desires. Until then, though, he’ll feed on your frustrations and short comings, carefully molding you into a tool for his own gain. And if it takes an eternity to get there? Well, he's got plenty of time.

The Saint of Truth Scourge
At first glance, this Scourge looks rather frail. She’s underweight. Her eyes are dull. The green and orange feathers speckled across her body are more sickly colors than anything else. And don’t forget the rattling breath and hacking cough! Yeah, she might’ve committed to the bit a little too hard with that last part. Oh yeah, it’s all an act. She’ll let you futilely try and nurse her back to health. And if you do a good job, she might even enjoy it and spare you her nasty surprise. That’s her favorite meal, you see, shock and horror. One second, she’s on death’s doorstep, and the next? She’s tearing into you with a strength and fury you didn’t know she possessed. Or, well, not you specifically. She’s got to keep up that ruse so she has access to her favorite foods. But, you should probably listen if your friends and family say she tried to attack them, even if she’s crumpled up in a helpless, pitiful lump of feathers in the corner.

The Saint of Duty Phantom
Silent and hulking, this Phantom looks like a bird shaped bruise with his mix of dark purple and blue feathers, each other gently dappling into the next. It’d be quite pretty actually, if it weren’t for the massive hooked beak and talons and his generally big and scary demeanor. Yeah, okay, so maybe he isn’t pretty. But he’s definitely effective. He’s quick, he’s brutal, he gets the job done with zero question. Which, might not always be a good thing considering he doesn’t really discriminate when it comes to those who face his wrath. He may just try and take you out, too. If you can manage to survive that though, you’ll have a dutiful— violent— servant lurking, well, you probably shouldn’t let him inside your house but you do you. At least he’s capable of feeding himself? Yeah, okay, maybe that's not actually a good thing. Uh, good luck?

The Saint of Tact Spectre
He may be little, but this Spectre is a force to be reckoned with. Glowing green dots across his wings and back in a pattern that looks like a skeleton against the rest of his drab feathers. His curved beak is thin and sharp as a dagger, as are his talons and his steely pinions and the look in his eyes. He’s looks ready to pick a fight and he surely will. He loves to feed off discord, and will squabble with anyone and everyone, usually when it’s the worst time possible. Especially when it's the worst time possible. Try to ignore him? Yeah, no, that’s not going to work unless you want that razor sharp beak, talons, or feathers to start poking holes in all of your soft spots. At least you’ll know that you (or anyone else for that matter) will never have the energy to fight with someone else while he’s around. That’s got to be good for something right?

The Saint of Awe Allure
This Allure is a firecracker, in both appearance and personality. Fiery red-orange feathers the color of a garnet— they even glitter like the gem in the sun— cover most of her body, darkening only at the edges to an oil slick black. Her razor pinions are a bright gold, as are her talons, which leads you to believe it’s probably not natural but it’s rude to ask that sort of thing. Either way, she’s stunning and oh yes, you must look and her and bask in her glory and her power and how she is clearly the best chaos causer there ever was among any Requia ever especially stupid Grims. She might be just a smidge jealous, yeah. But, uh, they should all be jealous of her! Yeah, that’s right! And trust that she has no qualms against making a scene if she’s not the center of attention. It feeds here, all that awe and attention and even the jealousy too.

The Saint of Foresight Lament
Can you say a Requia is covered in calming greys? Because that’s certainly the vibe this Lament gives off. Oh, she’s definitely still deadly— beak, talons, knife-like feathers, and all that— but she’s not pit of your stomach fear inducing like most of her species is. It might be that she genuinely cares for you. She’s always ready to set out on whatever adventure you’re embarking on, always prepared for whatever trials and tribulations that lie ahead of the two of you. Heck, she even has backup plans for her backup plans. And if anything tries to cross you, she’ll fight with the ferocity of a Requia at least twice her size and it isn’t like she’s small for her rank. You’re sure absolutely no danger will befall you with here around and it’s definitely all because she cares about you and not because she’s feeding on you, yes, 100% certain of that, mhmm.

The Saint of Obedience Legacy
This Requia looks a little worse for wear. At least a few of his metallic pinions have been snapped off. Scars crisscross his legs and face and probably his body too, but those are covered by dirty, dingy feathers that were once a nice soft blue-grey. He tends to give other Requiae the widest berth possible and, like all Legacy, will panic when they get too close. And by panic, we mean fight. He’ll try to fight either the Requiae or he’ll fight whatever’s standing between them. Yes, he’s the lowest bird in the pecking order. But he also believes he’s better than all the rest of those heathens. Sure, he has to obediently listen to their orders, but he doesn’t want to. That’s why he avoids them. He’s not afraid of them or anything silly like that. His battered body? All from fights he picked himself. It’s not like he’d tell you that though. He thrives off the feeling of pity.

The Saint of Humility Omen
Every inch of this Omen is an inky black, but, if he catches the light just right, his glossy feathers erupt in a myriad of glittering jewel tones. It distracts from the fact that his pinions and beak and talons might not be as sharp as everyone else’s, but really that suits him just fine. He’s not as outright violent or warlike as most of his species. He’d much rather play a bunch of pranks than, you know, stab you or something. Especially if he thinks you need to be knocked down a few pegs. That’s his bread and butter, really, serving up slices of humble pie. He’s a trickster for certain and his mimicry skills are nearly unmatched. It’s best to do whatever you can to get him on your side and use his powers of embarrassment for good. And by good, we obviously mean against people you aren’t particularly fond of.

[Geoff]

He didn't notice anything right away.

The house had the sounds of the ceiling fan, the invisible background noise of a laptop's electric whine, the dishwasher clanking, the rapidly acquired sounds of Firelizards squeaking and going about their winged reptilian lives...

WIthout knowing why, though, he felt restless. Frustrated with his inability to focus on reading anything, Geoff shoved on his shoes and shut the door behind him on the way out for a walk to clear his head.

He really wished he had his motorcycle when he realized how far he'd wandered without paying attention to anything. Where was he, even? Turning around behind him to see how far away the town was, he could see no signs of buildings or lights, despite not thinking he had walked THAT far out of familiar territory.

Turning around again, he could see no signs of the towering cliff faces of the mountain, or any tree limbs reaching for the sky. Only the roiling dark clouds and flashes of lightning somehow both too close and too far for comfort.

He kept walking, in search of something on the horizon to mark his progress, and a few minutes later twisted around again in search of something off to the side that had escaped his periphery. Nothing. Sighing and heading back the direction he thought he'd been going, he almost jumped at the silent appearance of the abandoned chapel not ten yards ahead of him.

Well. Might as well.

Leaning his weight into the stubborn doors, he shoved them open one step at a time, the hinges crooked towards the floor and desperately resisting his attempt to enter. Unfortunately, he had little reward for the struggle; it was clear the place would serve as no adequate shelter for the imminent storm, and it wasn't as if there was a convenient umbrella left behind on a dusty pew somewhere that he could take.

Pacing around, because shit what else was he going to do go back to the endless grass, he noticed that he recognized nothing about the designs or the titles carved into the walls. "Of course not," he muttered to himself. Why would this weird alien coma planet have a Protestant or Lutheran church when it could have whatever religion worshipped a 'saint of tact' or 'saint of foresight'.

Outside, the thunder rumbled closer.

He looked up to the holey ceiling above.

"Noah, get the boat," he grumbled.

[Cyprena Sevenius]

Sometimes it felt like it stormed a lot, but Ren couldn’t say that for certain. It wasn’t like she was keeping track of the days, one way or another. But sometimes the rain felt more noticeable because something always happened with it.

A fun! and friendly! rumble would certainly be the thing this time around.

Ren had never expected this part of a personality to crop up within her but here she was now. When something strange seemed to “beckon” her in any way, she just kind of went with it. Resistance was futile. She had always thought that she was a fighter, but she had realized, long ago now at this point on this planet, that she had nothing on “strange forces”. The quotation marks didn’t even make sense there, because there were in fact, really fucking strange forces here.

So yeah, she followed the weird noises. She followed where she was seemingly led and when she gazed up at the peeling paint of the rather haunting looking building and frowned. Of course this was her reward for blindly following things. She was ready to turn back when she heard the doors shrug open from around the corner, and her curiosity, damn her curiosity, was piqued. She huffed, walking over to the side, amber eyes peeking through the door, noticing Geoff, and not really paying attention to much else. Attention to detail, useless details at least (according to her, anyway), were not her strong suit.

“What is this place?” she asked, though based on the fact that the doors had just opened, it could probably be assumed that this fellow hadn’t a clue either. Maybe she should refrain her question. “Why is this place…?” That was definitely not better.

She did feel something nagging in her gut, but she wasn’t sure what it was, looking around at the lit candles (not thinking that it implied that someone had lit them), the holes in the ceiling, the rot that crept into the pews. Places like this were sure to nag at her gut, but if there was anything that her experiences, from before Whazzit even, had taught her, it was that her gut wasn’t wrong.

So while her shoulders were relaxed, and she trained her focus onto Geoff for now, she was on the alert. She wouldn’t let anything ambush her again.

[Haelys Celtaris]

While Haelys had never been a heavy sleeper, in recent nights she had been more easily roused from rest. Most of the time it was of her own doing in response to recent events and current circumstances and hard truths. Tonight, however, the culprit was to the north.

Storms were common where she was from. The sounds from outside were oddly comforting, beckoning her to slip out from under satin sheets. One of her thicker white dresses was put on, the sleeves long and bottom billowed. A cotton shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, silver filigree embroidered along its edges. Her hair had not been brushed this evening, yet she did not think to put it up into a bun as she usually would. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on some force outside of the partially-complete castle. For once, none of her shinies noticed her leave. Her white boots were flat and hardly clicked on the sleek floors. The side door was quieter than the front entrance.

As she moved under the cloudy night sky, her fingers creeped out from under her shawl, tickling the grass that grew taller and taller. This was the grass she had first landed in upon her arrival. This was the grass she had searched and searched, yearning to find a portal back home. She hated that this grass was familiar and her hand suddenly grabbed at one of its long tendrils, ripping it out of the ground as she moved along and shredded it into tiny pieces.

The deteriorated building was not familiar. Perhaps she had never walked this exact path or perhaps it was new, though it sure didn't look to be.

She could barely make out another figure entering the building. Normally she would find this suspicious. Usually she would have a body guard or companion. Generally, she played it safe for her own self-preservation.

And yet, things were never normal here, nor did she have a usual plan, and nobody could speak generally about this damned place. Was it this world that was changing her or was there something in the air, undetected yet intoxicating?

Haelys entered the building shortly after the other two. Ren she recognized, because how could one forget such an appearance? Geoff, on the other hand, was more unassuming yet still familiar. Aside from her initial glance at them, she proceeded to redirect her attention on the stone figures and some of the accompanying words. She smirked to herself and let out a huff of amusement that could be heard. Saints. No wonder this place was decaying—this land was not for saints. After all, being stranded in this bizarre place seemed like her punishment. She assumed the others were the same, no matter how benign they might appear at first impression.

She turned around to notice the candles. Had they just lit them? Were they performing some sort of ritual? Well, as long as she was included, she wouldn't complain.

[edited to add word count]
[Word Count: 494]

[Zenith]

The longer Zenith flew, the more certain he became that this was a terrible idea.

The day had started off peacefully enough, which was atypical in and of itself. His cohort had behaved themselves all day; they’d even settled into their beds without a fuss when the skies began to darken. More remarkable still, not a one of them had attempted to follow their bondmate out into the rising storm. He had Alexandrae to thank for that, he suspected, but he wasn’t about to question his luck in getting an evening ‘off’ wholly unaccompanied, not when there were towering thunderheads just begging for someone to nyoom through them. He'd said his goodbyes, distributed snugs where appropriate, and launched himself skyward before anyone could sink their proverbial hooks into him.

It was only after he'd climbed through the low-lying cloud banks and into the charged air above that reality ensued. Yes, this was a thunderstorm, but the faint odd humming that scratched and scraped at the back of his processor couldn’t be chalked up to mere atmospheric action... could it? Zee rerouted power to his sensor suite, half-expecting to find some great monster hiding in the clouds. Aggro-tech blipped an all-clear, with surface scans reporting similar findings a sparkpulse later. Whatever the source of that (increasingly irritating) buzz, it wasn’t close enough to ping sensor systems.

Curiouser and curiouser, Zee thought, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed that he’d come up empty-handed. Clearly more in-depth investigation was required.

Up, up, up he went, the screech of his engines lost in the growing clamor of the storm. Repeat scans turned up the same result as before. Even at thirty thousand feet, where the air grew thin and the storm winds stilled, no obvious source of sound presented itself.

Well fine, then! Zee would never admit it, but he absolutely indulged in a moment of childish pouting. Rassn frassn stupid noise evading detection... Brief temper tantrum finished, he tucked his wings and dove for terra firma. Wind screeched past his exoplating, whistling loud enough to drown out the crash of thunder far above-

But the hum persisted, an inescapable gnawing at the edge of his senses, and that alone made it Incredibly Interesting.

Zee had a terrible weakness for Interesting Things.

A scant hundred feet above the ground the now-soggy jet pulled up and leveled off, zipping low and fast across the lonely plains. (...and really, where had they come from? According to his most recent intel this had been a swamp last week!) Sure enough, that grating drone grew louder by slow degrees. By the time Zee spotted the building- chapel?- in the distance he was fairly certain of two things. The first was that its source was in the aforementioned church.

The latter was, yet again, that this was a fragging terrible idea.

But, Zenith could no sooner deny his curiosity than he could deny his size. It defined him in much the same way. After a few cursory loops around the dilapidated structure he set down and transformed, automatically taking the half-sized version of his root mode. Primus and all the Guiding Hand knew he wasn’t getting through that door any other way.

The inside of the church- and ha, he’d been dead on calling it that!- was every bit as tumbledown as the outside had been. ...provided you ignored the candles, anyway, and the oddly well-preserved statues. Zee gave the whole place a once-over before glancing towards familiar face Ren, who seemed to be of a similarly inquisitive mindset.

“Wish I knew. Doesn’t show up on any map I’ve got in my databanks, though.” A beat as he remembered the painfully recent grasslands all around them. “...’course, that doesn’t mean much around here.”

Zee shivered in spite of himself, choosing to ignore the little voice in the back of his head shrilling nonsense about bad omens and worse luck.

((Falling into Fall, 'soggy', 652 words.))

[Gats]

Zenith tried to answer the question on everyone’s mind and for a moment, the group was surrounded by silence. No wind, no thunder, no rain. It was as if the storm itself was holding its breath. It was uncomfortable, suffocating.

In that stillness, Haelys would be the first to notice the candles flicker, blown about by an unfelt draft. A door slammed and the storm began to rage again as if on cue. But what door was there that could make such a noise without it being followed by the sound of it splintering into bits? Surely, there was nothing that solid in this ramshackle leftover church. The wind howled again, a great gust whipping through the main aisle of the church and stirring up the dust and debris left amongst the pews. It oddly didn’t bring any rain in with it though. Maybe Geoff wouldn’t need Noah’s help after all.

Watching the path the debris took through the air would eventually reveal that the entrance door had been replaced. The new door looked heavy, decorated with wrought iron, and painted with delicate golden scroll that formed crucifixes. If one of them decided to try it, the door was locked. It was reinforced. There was no getting out. Well, that way at least.

There was apparently getting in though.

Dust and debris weren’t the only things stirred up by the strange winds. The undefinable forms of spirits and specters left behind started to rise in the pews. One of them brushed past Cyprena, if only to let her know that her that her gut was in fact not wrong. Beyond that, they didn’t seem to notice the living humanoids around them.

A low note rumbled forth from the organ, over the sound of thunder that was getting much, much closer.

One of the angelic statues tumbled to the ground, ruined. Well, ruined further.

There was a shriek, blood curdling, from the choir loft. The sound of steel on steel. The rustling of… Feathers? How you heard that one over the storm was anyone’s guess.

And then, one word croaked from a member of the ghastly congregation, “Prepare.”

What would you do? Stick together? Split up? Look for a way out? Go see what was making all that noise in the choir loft? Take up arms the best you could (you did notice there were suddenly more things inside the church) and prepare— assuming that’s what that meant?

ooc| sorry this took so long D8 i'll be trying to post as you do from here on out. feel free to make up objects your characters find, within reason of course, to use to "prepare" themselves! the requiae will appear as you interact with certain parts of the church ;p

and joining is still open. you can come in, you just can't leave <3

[Geoff]

There was a voice, and Geoff flinched, twisting his neck over his shoulder with an annoyed glare. He hadn't realized Ren was there, not that seeing her there was much comfort either, since he only vaguely recognized her and still didn't know what she was. Spooked and unwilling to admit it, he tried to ignore her, although he felt the constant unease of being watched.

Soon, his instincts told him there were more present in the church, and casting a skeptical look around, he once again wasn't sure that he felt comforted by seeing himself trapped in an abandoned building, in a dark storm, with the monstrous queen.

He rather hoped he was still on her good side. Or, not on her bad side, maybe saying he was on her good side was a bit too ambitious in his optimism.

Then there was… God, he still didn't know what to call him. It. Hit? Whatever, the thing was both easier and harder to ignore. It didn't give him the sense of eyes on the back of his neck making his skin crawl, which he assumed because it wasn't something that possessed organic eyes, but having an entity around that he couldn't sense based on the eons of evolution didn't make him feel better either.

One man, three ambiguously friendly creatures he didn't know the origin of, and an undoubtedly haunted cathedral lost south of nowhere. There was no way he could have anything but a wonderful night, surely.

A new sound caught him unawares, and he jerked his whole body around, stirring with raised eyebrows at the shut door. He didn't bother walking over and trying to reopen it. That was you do, go back out in the rain? That wasn't any better option than being in a haunted shelter.

So he thought, until the hunting started to prove real. Cold wind, and mumbling whispers but the hair on his arms, the back of his neck, even his knees on and. At the risk of being repetitive and unoriginal, he turned slowly towards the organ. He couldn't see it in the shadowy rafters, but it sounded like somebody was being murdered, impaled on the sword up above, he took a long, studying breath his nose, held it, and hefted out.

"All preparing you," he grumbled, whatever that meant, and headed for the loft. If there was a dead body in here, he'd rather be around it then milling around with the ghosts in the pews whom he was trying very hard not to dwell on too much. Hell, if there was still a murderer he'd still rather that, provided it was a recognizably human murderer and not some eldritch horror.

[450 words - Gimme Some Direction - south]

[Cyprena Sevenius]

Ren was more than aware as she and human number one were joined with more companions. She was never really pleased per se whenever she was met with Ms. Fancy Pants, but she did feel on incredibly odd sort of comfort when she noticed Zenith because robots, technology, yes please. She tried to ignore her discomfort at the encompassing silence because maps, databases, all of that stuff made so much more sense to her than any of this nonsense that she was knee deep in at this point.

Before she could make some loud and annoying comment to the singular friendly face (though their circumstances now compared to a candy house were not all that much better were they) the silence was cut by noise. So much noise. First the door slammed, whipped up by the winds from the south or the west, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The debris was making it harder to make out what was happening, and she turned to see that the door was not quite the same as the one she had entered through.

Well, that was just dandy.

But that wasn’t the only dandy happening that night, oh no. Because sooner than she could gather her bearings, Ren felt something brush right by her, and she noticed the spirits all along the pews. Now Ren wasn’t some sort of religious being, Turians believed in spirits sure but not quite in this way, and she cursed herself for leaving her precious few guns (she didn’t want to lose them or waste all of the probably irreplaceable so far ammo) back at the inn.

When the statue crumbled, she reached with her arm for a pew, or what was left of one, hoping to rip off a piece of the wood and use it like a...bat, she didn’t know. It was better than using her bare fists and maybe, ew, touching the spirits. Or passing though? Either way, she didn’t want to try it, even if she hadn’t a clue what a bat or baseball even was. What she did know was that smashing a stick into something else would probably hurt it.

The shriek admittedly spooked her, and she flinched back, stepping instinctively with her back towards Zenith, because she felt correct to assume that he would be more useful than Haelys. And certainly more useful than Geoff who was scuttling away towards spirits-knew-what.

“I’ll show you prepared.” she growled, her stubborn resolve wrapped in with her fear so completely that it was impossible to tell where one began and one ended. When she got back to the Weyrd, she was going to buy a crossbow or some shit.

ooc: word count, 431

[Tzimekh]

Tzi wandered. She didn't have anything better to do: she hadn't found suitable caves, wasn't concerned about sleeping beneath the stars. The forests seemed to welcome her, the grasslands called to her. It seemed right. The feeling seemed like it should be there, tucked between her ribs, burning fiercely. She was trying not to think of how close it was to actual-burning, the feeling the storm was bringing, like something dancing on her skin, sparking in her beard. It wasn't electric, not like the lightning seething above, it was...different. Strange.

It was possible that it wasn't normal to wander around in the path of an oncoming storm, not concerned in the slightest about the chaos about to erupt. Tzimekh wasn't worried about that. Or the storm, again. Her unease settled around how right she felt, fingertips skimming the grass, feeling the destruction about to let loose in the air. It was good. It was how things were; sometimes chaotic, sometimes not. In that way, she wasn't finding it hard to adjust, here, to this strange place with its drumming skies and eerie buildings in the middle of nowhere.

Well, that was interesting. Tzi had no concept of 'church', no reason to suspect 'haunted ass church' when she spotted the building, but she wasn't completely foolish. Shivers crawling down her spine[/i] or no, though, the half-dwarf wasn't somebody to ignore curiosity. She approached the building, tried to peer in a window (were there windows? maybe she was imagining that.), but eventually settled on opening the seemingly-abandoned place's door.

SLAM

The door, caught by the wind, thwacked against the frail walls of the place, and Tzimekh didn't squeak, thank you, she bustled inside bravely and exceedingly calmly, closed the door behind her politely. Naturally. When she turned around, though, the woman...froze. Slightly. Very briefly. In fairness, visible spirits were a strange thing to walk in on, and a tiny group of strange villagers besides. "Ah." Tzi mumbled, eyes darting from living-beings to ghost, back and forth. "I thought. That this place was abandoned. I see I've interrupted something." Clearing her throat, the dworc gave a half-bow, coughed. Was it dusty in here, or was that just her?

"I'll just...leave you to it?" To their ghosts. Their falling-apart building that it was dawning on Tzimekh looked an awful lot like a religious sort of building. She'd clearly interrupted some sort of ceremony, and that was rude, wasn't it. She'd definitely better leave them to their summoning, or sacrificing, whatever it was that they were doing.

The door didn't open.

[431 words, spooky]

[Haelys Celtaris]

Silence. As loud as Haelys could be, she also was capable of holding her tongue when she desired. And as the storm's uproar disappeared, she found herself holding her breath in anticipation of what was about to happen, because the suspicion that crawled in her bones was too visceral to be wrong. The queen exhaled slowly as she watched the candles flicker. She jolted at the slamming door, clutching a hand to her bosom as if her heart had collided with her rib cage. She found herself instinctually stepping closer to Geoff and Ren, more spooked than she cared to admit. This was no ordinary ritual—where was its master?

Haelys could feel the skirt of her dress shifting in the gusts of wind, dancing with the dust and debris. Her eyes widened at the sight of...spirits? Magic? Trickery? She wasn't sure what they were, but she had never seen anything like it. Was someone trying to bring souls back from the dead, or was this a very believable show? She reached out, fingers almost touching one of the specters, but stopping just shy as the organ rang out and the statue fell. Perhaps they weren't real, for they did not respond to her. Her arm whipped back to her side at the sound of the shriek. The queen immensely regretted not bringing her weapons tonight. At least she had her tiny knife in a ~special~ place, but that didn't seem like a promising strategy at this point. She looked up to the ceiling and windows, trying to figure out where the sounds of steel and feathers were coming from, but her survey offered no answers.

But then! Hope!

Haelys saw...something...coming through the door. A new shiny species perhaps? Either way, the DOOR was OPEN. The woman began to run towards it just as Tzimekh stepped inside, her right arm reaching forward desperately to catch the creature's attention among all the chaos.

"DON'T CLOSE THE—" BOOP. It was shut. And clearly wasn't opening back up. The queen stumbled to a stop, arm falling to her side and head bent forward in disappointment. Damnit.

Turning back around, Haelys was in flight mode, eyes frantically searching for a way out, even if that meant venturing into the storm. Her gaze settled on the stained glass windows and her expression became determined. Whether or not the windows were down low or up high, if she could break one open, they had a chance of exiting. The queen ran up to the fallen statue, picking up a fist-sized piece of stone that had broken off. She wasn't very strong, but even this could break a window (well, a normal, not-haunted window...).

Looking to a west-facing window, Haelys took a deep breath and mustered up all the energy she could to LAUNCH the stone, exhaling with a grunt during her effort. Ow. Ow her shoulder. She might have pulled something.

[word count: 486]

[Zenith]

And then, right on cue, things started to get Interesting.

By rights Zenith really ought to have expected some sort of escalation. It was a dark and intermittently-stormy night, they were holed up in a church that had lain abandoned for goodness only knew how long... if B-rate slasher flicks had taught him anything, it was that things were only going to get worse. That didn’t keep him from flinching when the door slammed shut, though, or from automatically stepping towards the entryway.

Y’know, the entryway that sported a brand spanking new door sturdy enough to give even a Cybertronian pause. Because of course they were locked in with the ghosts of horrors past. Why wouldn’t they be? That would be too easy. It would make too much sense. Everyone knew Planet was deathly allergic to making even the slightest modicum of sense.

Grumbling, Zee strode back to the little knot of unfortunate attendees. Another had joined the mess whilst he was distracted. Worse yet, poor Tzimekh looked every bit as lost as he felt. He paused just long enough to offer a smile and a wave before-

-before he emitted a most un-mech-ly sound and leaped the last ten feet or so, which just happened to be away from that fragging statue that had just fallen. Primus in the Pit, was this place the fever-dream of some demented architect with dreams of mass murder? Had Planet slapped the whole thing together specifically to torment them? Or was he really just that on-edge, what with the storm rising and the screeches of some unseen monstrosity bouncing around his skull?

Someone, Zee thought most bitterly, was gonna pay for all of this. And if he figured out who was doing that whole ‘raising the dead’ thing, he’d fragging well start with them.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Even in his own audios the complaint sounded more like an entreaty. The realization just torqued him off even more. “First we all trip over a weird skragged-up church in the middle of nowhere, then we get stuck, and now some magnet-sucker’s yelling at us?!”

He didn’t add what he was thinking, about the uncertain parentage of their pesterers or the likelihood that their family tree was a circle, but the implied insult hung in the air all the same.

Reckless as ever, Zee left poor Ren to her own devices and stalked off towards the choir loft. The stairs leading up to it were every bit as tumbledown as the rest of the church. Though they creaked under-pede, they held up, at least long enough for the irritable jet to reach the top and bellow what was unmistakably a challenge.

“CAN YOU FRAGGING NOT?!”

Who-knows-how-many miles away, poor responsible adult Alexandrae was struck with the sudden unaccountable desire to put her face in her talons.

((Spooky Scary Skeletons, 'skull', 478 words.))

[Omorose]

There were many strange things that have happened while this human has made rituals to her God. One time, her spirit left her body and she traveled to the land of the dead to help extinguish a demon that did not belong. Another time she woke up two days later, having been in her prayer the entire time without food or water. And yet another time she had extinguished all of the lanterns in the pyramid and burst all of the embalming vials into pieces.

She has never said her magic was weak, after all.

But this was something completely different. This time, during her nightly ritual, she awoke in a completely different place. She had been kneeling by her bedside in the inn she was renting until she found a permanent dwelling. She was still dressed in her clothes- a slimming light cream dress with a loose golden rope around her waist- and in her sandals, for she usually got ready for bed after her ritual. But now, in the middle of the night, she found herself tucked away in the corner of.... what was this? An abandoned church?

Something was more pressing, though. There was the sound of the howling wind right outside. Had it been storming when she had started preparing for her ritual? Had she meditated throughout a full day again? Omorose was reeling, trying to get a grasp of her surroundings and her sense of time when she suddenly remembered something. Something rather important.

She had been woken up by a scream.

The magus pulled herself to her feet, rather hastily. Wiping dust and debris from her dress, she walked out of the darkness of the corner into the main aisle. Her gaze fell upon other people already gathered. Zenith, Haelys, Tzimekh... and two others she's sure she's seen before, but couldn't place their names.

Haelys was looking like she was about to jump out of a window. Zenith was up at the choir loft, yelling at... who knows what? Ren appeared to be standing her ground, and Tzi was at the door. That clearly wasn't opening. And that other lad was stalking off to another place entirely. 

"What is going on?" she asked, her voice sounding equal parts concerned and confused. The sound of steel on steel reached her ears, as did the rustling of feathers. More nonsensical sounds in a place that doesn't make sense.

Or maybe it did, and she just missed the introductory while being off in the corner.

[Gats]

The Choir Loft

Geoff would find neither dead body nor murderer nor eldritch horror when reached the top of the rickety stairs leading to the choir loft. In fact, the metallic sounds and the organ both had stopped immediately and entirely when his foot fell on the top stair as if someone had turned off the spooky Halloween sound effects tape they had been playing. There was nothing up here but a few lopsided risers, the banged up organ, and a thick, undisturbed layer of dust.

It was disappointing almost. Whatever had been up here, if anything, was gone now. It was a brief respite for the young man from the unearthly congregation below. But as Zenith bounded, loudly, up the creaking stairs after Geoff, the organ began to play again, a pair of ghastly hands dancing across the chipped keys, the haunting notes beginning to crescendo the closer the Cybertronian got. A shadowy chorus started to fill in their places on the risers.

There was a shatter of glass from downstairs and not to be outdone, a shrill cry— or was it a scream— sounded out in response to Zee’s challenge, and a rush of feathers and steel sparkling in the candlelight headed straight for his glowing eyes. It perhaps bears repeating, The Saint of Awe Allure was not one to be outdone.

The Church Proper

Tzimekh and Omorose arrived just in time for Haelys to, quite literally, cast the first stone. Had the queen stopped for a look-see, she would’ve seen that the inscription of the now-empty alcove read The Saint of Awe. But anyways, the chunk of stone Haelys threw hit its intended target. The shattering sound of glass rang out through the entire church, even over the growing music of the organ, as large pieces of one of the stained glass panels came unceremoniously crashing to the ground.

The storm groaned and threatened outside, but no wind or rain entered the old building’s newest hole. “Look what you’ve done,” a spirit whispered near Haelys, shaking its head before returning its focus toward the altar. It had, strangely enough, been the only one to react to the broken window. They also didn’t react when Ren tore part of their pew away, which happened easily enough. She could probably only get one or two really good hits in with the weakened piece of wood, but hopefully that’s all Ren would need. Despite the screaming from up high, nothing seemed to be bothering the group down here, though two more statues fell from the alcoves from some unseen force.

As more spirits took shape in their seats, one called out to Tzimekh as the dworc apologized. It patted an empty space next to it, “No need to be sorry, I’ve saved you a seat.” Did- did they know the Whazzitians coming? And uh, how safe was sitting with a bunch of ghosts? Hell, how safe was turning a ghost down with all that screaming going on upstairs? They were mum as far as Omorose’s question of what was going on, so it was anyone’s guess.

A low croak came from outside the broken window. Two pairs of beady eyes peered into the building, one doing its best to shove its way in front but not really having much luck one way or another. Praise be to The Saint of Joy Grim and The Saint of Patience Remnant. They look, uh, unpleasant to say the least. And also like they were heading inside.

[Cyprena Sevenius]

Two more stumbled into the chuch, two people that Ren hadn’t particularly bothered to remember, and she was about to explain the situation to the newest arrival when she heard glass shattering. She whirled around, fingers curled around the stick in her dominant hand ready to pop some fucker in the kneecap but it was just their resident royal, crashing something (she hadn’t seen what) through a window. She had to admit it was a good idea, and wanted to move towards the new opening when a cry was heard from up above.

That’s what you get for running away.

The storm didn’t seem to be letting up at all, and it was hard to tell what noise was coming from inside of the building and what sounds were coming from outside. She stepped back as two more of the statues collapsed, nothing too surprising really considering the weather and just the commotion inside, but those were the least of any of their worries.

And then, literally, there were spirits. Ren wasn’t particularly religious, or anything, but turians generally believed in spirits, and she had never had any reason to not believe that. She watched as they materialized, some seemed to interact with the others, and she was starting to wonder if maybe the screaming happening up there was preferable to this. No, she wasn’t condoning running away, of course not, but she wasn’t sure that her stick would exactly work for this.

“What the fuck.” was all she could say, before her eyes turned back to the broken window, hearing another noise. Maybe it was just a tree bending in the storm? She could make out motion from the outside, but she had no idea what it was, it was hard to focus on anything at all in this state. She wanted to avoid the spirits, avoiding touching them or...passing through them, and her eyes darted around. What she wanted to do right now was to have her back to a wall, to get some sort of protection, but she wasn’t sure she would get that.

She didn’t recognize the two newcomers, sure, but there was someone down here that she knew as well as she could know someone in this world. And while she didn’t like it, she utterly hated the idea, the way the woman had reacted, throwing the rock through the window, seemed like the safest option that she knew right now.

She walked quickly over to Haelys, not needing to make any introduction and not bothering to give one in return. “Staying by myself in this seems dumb.” She growled, not wanting The Princess to get any ideas, not that she thought she would. She turned her back to Haelys, generally, hoping that she would be understood. With the way this church was falling apart, even this woman seemed safer than one of the walls.

ooc, 480 words

[Haelys Celtaris]

If Omorose was an intimidating figure, it would have been a lot more alarming to see her emerge from a dark corner of the room... Nonetheless, the other humanoids had some other...things stealing their focus at the moment—like the very successful window breakage!

Haelys cracked a small smile of relief as the window shattered. A way out!

Okay, so the window was higher up than she was tall. And she would have to kick or punch out more of the glass before she could fit through. But this was a first step! As she pondered what action to take next, she very consciously ignored the screaming from up above. As much as she wanted everyone to walk out of here alive, the reality was that if something was busy killing Geoff and Zenith upstairs, that at least gave her more time to escape.

Haelys flinched at the ghost that spoke to her, backing away slowly and looking very concerned that one of them had actually reacted to her. This made her think they were not just some illusion... Great.

As she backed away from the whispering spirit, she found herself gently bumping into Ren. The woman jumped back the other direction as if she had just been tickled by a ghost, clearing her throat and recollecting herself once she realized who it was. She nodded in agreement with the Turian's words.

But then. AN IDEA. And Haelys went from silently compliant to PUSHY GENIUS. After all, Ren was so TALL.

"Come! Get me up here!" The woman practically dragged Ren by the arm over to the window below the wall (with the sweat dripping down my—). "Let me stand on your shoulders." It was truly a command. And whether or not Ren wanted to cooperate, at least they had a chance of getting out this way.

Haelys took off her ankle boots, partly for better balance and partly to use the shoes to break the glass further. If Ren was willing to lean down and assist, she would step up gently and use her hands against the wall for balance. If Ren was hesitant to comply, Haelys would essentially scale her like a tree, fighting her way up until she could use Ren's shoulders as footholds. As a side note, Haelys's dress was long enough that it very well might sit or even cover Ren's head. ENJOY THE VIEW.

Freedom. Sweet freedom from this cursed place was so close. She just needed to use this shoe in her hand and—

"AHHHHH!" Haelys screeched when her eyes met the demon birds'. She practically fell like a heavy flower petal, folding and flopping back down across Ren's body to escape from her face getting pecked in. Her arms wrapped around the Turian's shoulders and if Ren was even vaguely willing to put out her arms to catch her, she 100% would end up being carried like a princess.

"DEVIL BIRDS COMING IN!" Her voice boomed and echoed through the church as a friendly PSA. They were comin' in hot and they were on the hunt.

[Dear Henna, I have made some assumptions in this post. Feel free to post again and correct/clarify or change anything, if Gats is cool with that. XD]

[Omorose]

Nobody really answered her question. She guessed it was because there was too much going on. The magus took a moment to get a real good look at everything that was happening. Geoff and Zenith were up in the choir loft, where Zee’s yell was being answered by one hell of a scream. Haelys had succeeded in breaking through the window, and it looked like that other girl was- the magus quirked an eyebrow at the two of them, unsure of exactly what was going on, because it certainly didn’t look innocent from over here. It wasn’t until Haelys screamed that she noticed the two birds peering inside.

Devil birds? They didn’t look that bad. It certainly didn’t warrant a scream, at the very least. Omorose’s gaze left them and instead focused on Tzimekh, who was still standing by the door. And then the spirits started to appear. They were taking their spots in the benches around her, in fact, and as her gaze swept their faces her mind was processing the situation she was now in. They were attending a ghostly service? She heard the spirit call to the dworc and found herself even more confused. It sounded like they were waiting for them.

”I don’t know what you want me to do here, Anubis, but a sign would be nice,” she said, softly, to herself. She wasn’t sure if these spirits were ready to pass on; wait. Pause everything, just for a second. Maybe they needed to finish this service in ORDER to pass on? Perhaps this is what they needed? This was the best guess that she had, and she still wasn’t sure what the significance of the birds were, even as two more statues fell from their alcoves. She walked calmly through the rows of benches to find an empty spot, quietly sitting down. Her gaze traveled to Tzimekh as she called out, ”Go and sit, we should be fine.” Then her gaze moved to Haelys and Ren. ”Both of you, as well.”


Obviously they weren’t getting out until whatever this was, was over. Oh, maybe that’s what the Requiae were doing! Trying to prevent any of them from leaving, so the spirits could move on after their service. This was starting to make some bit of sense. Poor, naïve Omorose.

ooc.
Just Push This Button, Pause

[Zenith]

Zenith had entirely lost the plot again. Seriously, he’d stomped up to the choir loft with every intention of raising the Pit itself, maybe even drowning a few glitchwits in a torrent of verbal abuse. Instead he’d gotten completely side-tracked and started cooing over the architecture, of all things. There were windows up here that hadn’t been visible from the ground floor, beautiful (if unsettling) scenes preserved in vibrant stained glass. As macabre a sight as they made, all covered in dust and illuminated by occasional flashes of far-off lightning, there was something haunting (ha!) about them all the same.

They reminded him, he realized at last, of the Atraxian chapels his father had once frequented. They too had been full of history writ large in crystal.

Though he was pretty slagging certain none of them had ever played host to murderbirds.

Because that was precisely what burst through one of those windows- not the stained glass, damnit!- and swooped straight for his optics.

Zee yelped and ducked, shielding his head with both arms. He’d never met a requia before, but familiarity wasn’t necessarily required in this case. Those talons? And that beak? And all those glittering metallic feathers? Yeah, they all looked like a world of hurt. Especially when they were aimed for his optics. he needed those for making puppy-dog optics damnit

No fool Zee, he beat a hasty retreat right past Geoff, muttering something about, “What the Pit, man, that was just unnecessary-” as he went. Y’know, just in case he hadn’t already stuck his pede halfway down his intake where Geoff was concerned. Either way, he kept right on retreating, back across the loft and towards...

Oh, frag everything and everyone. Towards the apparently-haunted pipe organ. It looked sturdy, at least, and thus a prime candidate for hiding behind if things got out of hand.

So long as you ignored the ghostly hands and the murderbirds and the... everything.

Today just kept getting better and better.

((In A Weyr Far, Far Away, 'candidate', 330 words.))

[Geoff]

The door slammed again, and Geoff paused, hand on the stair rail to the loft, to look back. He didn't expect to see it slammed open, and was unfortunately correct to see it was shot in a new… Person… Was standing there looking as lost as the rest of them.

The pause what does he beat him to the punch, so to speak, although admittedly the… Again, what we hesitantly call a person… Was much more direct in voicing his opinionated frustration. Blinking a little blankly, Geoff stared up the stairs and just kind of wondered where his life has gone wrong that this where he ended up. Was it karma. He didn't believe in karma. Was probably karma for not believing in karma.

What's going on, some lady asked, and boy didn't Geoff was she knew. He didn't say anything, vaguely but not really hoping that somebody had some kind of answer.

Actually, how he heard her so easily. He flicked his gaze around the damn loft, realizing that the sound had been following had indeed shut themselves up. Whether it was because of the yelling at them, or something else, it HOLY FUCKING SHIT RUN RUN RUN RUN.

Dignity abandoned, it wasn't the ghosts, it was the large screaming vulture that had him turning tail and sprinting back down the stairs. Nope, nope, don't mess with angry birds, he knows that much. He didn't know where to hide downstairs, either, of course, because there were more ghosts and more birds, so he went with his first instinct and ducked behind the altar. Maybe if he just sat here, knees tucked to his chest and back to the altar legs, and was quiet, he be left alone. That was reasonable, right?

[Gats]

The Choir Loft
Feeling momentarily appeased by Zenith and Geoff going running, The Saint of Awe let out a triumphant caw and glided off somewhere else in the church. But don’t worry. Even with her and Geoff gone, you weren’t alone up there. The Saint of Duty Phantom had been watching from his perch atop the organ pipes, waiting for the perfect moment to strike reveal himself. And when was better than now, face to face with a giant metal man?

Your move, Zee.

The Church Proper
The Saint of Joy and The Saint of Patience paused their breech of the stained glass window to stare at Ren and Haelys, full head tilt. What in the name of everything unholy were they doing? They looked back at each other. Was this the right place? And then back at Ren and Haelys. It might not have been their intention, but they had successfully stopped the entrance of at least two of the deathbirds for now.

Of course, there were plenty more and not from where those two were coming from. Where were they coming from anyway? There were just a bunch of them gliding around the rafters now and were all the statues crumbled on the ground now? If Omorose was looking for a sign, that was probably it. But there was a distraction: a pained and woeful cry from under the pew she was sitting in. If she looked, she'd find the ruffled body of The Saint of Truth Scourge with a wing seemingly trapped beneath a large piece of rubble.

Geoff would find the altar wasn't a much better hiding place than the organ upstairs. Between the brushes of ghost fingers and cold metal, it's a bit of a surprise he made it there at all. And just like Zenith upstairs, he wasn't alone. Behind the altar was a dirty, battered bird, The Saint of Obedience Legacy clearly the pariah of them all. He couldn't be dangerous, could he?

---

ooc| please send prefs if you haven't already! c: looking to wrap this up in the next few posts. also, if you're looking for a birb in particular that isn't specifically mentioned- they're flying around somewhere! if you wanna be divebombed or something go for it!!

i'll loan ur wordz