ah, let us mourn, for never morrow shall dawn upon him...

[ushered]

[This post is open for reactions, (short) threads, and thread-hopping.]

As the clock chimes its twelfth hour and midnight descends upon Chicago, so, too, does something else.

The man who suddenly finds himself in the Kashtta's barricaded hallway is dreadfully pale, painfully gaunt, and utterly bewildered. His suit, once fashionable and expensive and

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[trappedbyhate]

Mio is in her office making herself a cup of tea and checking her email for one last time before heading off for the night when it happens. Her computer flickers briefly, but that's not particularly unusual if one of the Kashtta's resident spirits is passing through, so she ignores it. The psychic cacophony of Roderick's cries and the sudden flash of pain in her temples--the Kashtta's oh-so-pleasant way of letting her know that its unhappy with something--now those, she can't ignore

[ushered]

Something flinches away from her light.

"It hurts," Roderick whispers. "It hurts. It hurts."

[trappedbyhate]

Well. That would be the thing that the thing that the Kashtta was having her investigate. The question is, who or what was it?

Mio puts her hand over the beam of her flashlight to block out most of the light. "What hurts?" she asks, trying to focus her eyes to see who is speaking. "Are you injured?"

[ushered]

"Dead."

He draws a shuddering breath.

"The House is gone. Gone, gone, the roots uplifted, undone and dead-"

Moments later, he turns to face her and fixes his sunken eyes on hers.

"You should not be here."