(no subject)
"It looks bigger than last time we were here," said Wednesday, standing next to Samara and staring at the abandoned hut, so far from civilization as they knew it. "Haunted houses grow on their own, you know. Like people."
Whether they actually did so or not was irrelevant; the mere idea that this hut could be growing and shifting and pushing itself out of the ground like a jagged tooth was enough. It looked haunted.
"Murdered men always stick around for revenge," she added, before turning to look at Samara. "Did you bring everything we need?"
Samara was the one carrying the homemade ouija board, the planchette, the pencil and papers for automatic writing, and the candles in case they decided a seance was in order, though Wednesday was hoping they saved that one for after dark. They always worked better then.
Wednesday herself was carrying a handmade book that detailed everything they knew about Faramir's abandoned hut and the surrounding area, including maps and diagrams, extensive observations, and various spells that she remembered from home. (She one day hoped to find her grandmother's grimoire on the bookshelf, but until that day she had to recreate them from memory.)
"It's time to get started," she said, and sat down on the ground squarely facing the front door.
[ ooc: set to some time this afternoon. tag our resident morbid pre-teens for haunted house fun! order will be your pup-wednesday-samara unless you ask for just one of them ]
Whether they actually did so or not was irrelevant; the mere idea that this hut could be growing and shifting and pushing itself out of the ground like a jagged tooth was enough. It looked haunted.
"Murdered men always stick around for revenge," she added, before turning to look at Samara. "Did you bring everything we need?"
Samara was the one carrying the homemade ouija board, the planchette, the pencil and papers for automatic writing, and the candles in case they decided a seance was in order, though Wednesday was hoping they saved that one for after dark. They always worked better then.
Wednesday herself was carrying a handmade book that detailed everything they knew about Faramir's abandoned hut and the surrounding area, including maps and diagrams, extensive observations, and various spells that she remembered from home. (She one day hoped to find her grandmother's grimoire on the bookshelf, but until that day she had to recreate them from memory.)
"It's time to get started," she said, and sat down on the ground squarely facing the front door.
[ ooc: set to some time this afternoon. tag our resident morbid pre-teens for haunted house fun! order will be your pup-wednesday-samara unless you ask for just one of them ]