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They had been seen. No doubt the two gossips had noted their presence and made them out to be either cops or suspicious types - forever bound to the scene of a crime they didn't commit.
Fucking great! Too late to back out now.
Rumbling like an angry mountain, Green ducked under the lintel and disappeared inside the apartment.
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OOC
Swallowing her feelings of dread, Ramona proceeds into the apartment. She doesn't stand in the doorway, but steps aside, sliding up near the wall beside the door and clearing the opening for any to follow. Her hand searches for a light switch. After a moment's wait, her head appears in the doorway again, as she leans to look out at the rest of the group. "You guys comin'?"
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Daniel’s eyebrow raised slightly as Thao followed Ramona with no further argument. Maybe Daniel’s reassurances had worked after all. Seemed a little doubtful given the Wizened’s jumpiness. More likely he trusted the Ogre more than him. Daniel mentally shrugged the cloying feeling of mistrust off. Either way, Ngoc wasn’t yelling at people crossing the line.
Daniel followed into the room and pinched his finger. The cut stung as it reopened.
“Offer for the sight still stands for those who want it.”
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Unnoticed by the pair, the Beast's eyes watched as the mundanes moved past her. Once they were gone she was unsure of what to do. Hiding as a look out was viable...but she might get spotted. Worse, the others might need help and she'd not be there. Worse-worse Scooby Dum. Huh? What happens when the dog and stoner stay to play it safe? The monster...oh, right.
That settled that. There would be no splitting of the group. As Morgan moved out of her little patch of darkness the shadows briefly followed her. As if they didn't want her to leave. But they let her go as she moved into the apartment after Ramona. She gave a quiet nod to Thao in thanks, "Thanks. Follow-yes-yup. Lest you all want a look-out, either good. I hides good or-or can just drop my-bike-key as excuse for being out there-heh-heh."
The first thing the changelings notice when they enter the room is the wave of Glamour that floods over them. Like a flash flood it engulfs the lot of them, swimming through their senses and for a moment drowning it all away. So many emotions and dreams for a moment it was to much to take.
None of them had tasted this much glamour in a place so empty before. With no active emotions it seemed strange that such a feast would be present, however it only takes a moment in the room for them to tell why. The room was littered with colored pencils, dried paints, brushes crusted and the smell of oil. Photographs of people and places are tacked to the wall in what seems like random order. Several paintings and canvass are sitting on easels, and there is a wide array of paintings stacked in the corners of the room. The man that lived her was by far a talented artist.
Yet despite at first look what seems to be a mess of an apartment quickly gives way to just how organized this man was. Clean clothes, pressed and hanging. Dedicated areas of the room to different arts, even tidy floors. It seemed he was a strange man of a split duality.
Glancing at the paintings they all seem to be a series of portraits. Those in the portraits seem to be regular people in urban setting, sitting at coffee shops. Resting in the park, or even just traditional portraits busts. It was easy to miss right away, but than it became more and more clear, each individual was...well odd. one had horns growing from his head. Another man had cat like eyes and ruffs of fur. One man sitting at the park wearing a long trench coat seemed to almost be...goblin like with long fingers. Were these all changelings? Had this man painted the Miens of changelings?
Any one can feed on the Glamour here to refill spent glamour it. Roll Comp+Expression.
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Green grunts and looks about. Stopping before one portrait he extents a chunky finger and lightly touches the figure's wings.
The Wizened stumbled upon letting go of the door handle, a lungful of bottled dreams burning his throat. Thao began to cough violently and in his Wyrd-addled eyes, translucent wisps of smoke in pale viridian and shimmering violet spewed from his cracked lips with each dry hack.
A dull pounding behind his eyes accompanied each cough. He steadied himself against a wall with a hand. The crusty smear of dry paint against his hand made Thao look up and state the obvious with quiet awe. He left behind a faint hand-print on the dry canvas.
"It's an art studio..."
He walked among the sketches, the paintings, the canvas, and the palettes with his fingers hovering an inch above the artistic paraphernalia. His eyes darted anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to absorb every detail of the strange room.
Each piece of artistry in the room feeds the ambient mist of glamour flowing through the room. Yet no matter how hard Thao tried to pull a stream of Glamour into himself it slipped through his fingers or seeped through tiniest gaps where the suturework of his flesh was a hair looser than its neighbors.
As Thao examined the paintings, a disturbing pattern arose. "These...these 'r Changelings! Whoever this guy is, he's b-been p-paintin' us." He stepped over to Ramona. "Ramona, you said you were c-contacted b-by a m-member o' th' Freehold t' g-get somethin' from th' former owner o' this ap-partment, right? D-did she m-mention he was ensorcelled? An' d-didn't you say she c-couldn't g-get it 'cause his...his ghost was still here?"
He looks back at one particular painting depicting a goblinesque man with long fingers. "D-did y' ask why he didn't want her t' have whatever it is we're lookin' for?" He looked down at his own strange hands and compared them against the painting.
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Morgan started open mouthed at all the paintings. Either this guy had serious issues, was majorly into surreal art, or he'd been drawing the Lost as still lifes! "Whoa...t-this could be problem-trouble." She'd heard rumors that some insane mundanes could pierce the mask. She wasn't in any of the paintings, was she? She flitted about the portraits and scrutinized them in case she or those she knew was drawn there. Evidence of their kind was bad news, kept one from hiding. The horned one's portrait made her shudder as it set off the memory of that man from the freaky clinic.
Yet, this guy was friend's with a changeling so maybe...oh, Thao beat her to it. So she just nodded her head, quickly, and turned to Ramona as well,"Yes-y-good question. Did she mention-say anything about pact-ing the dead-dude? Or-or if the object-thing was part of the pact? Better-better question: Where is thingie smash-grab-leave? Best question: HOOOW did the ghost keep her away from the thingie? Rules-of-trouble say object-'ling-friend-wants 'n' haunting probably connected..." Morgan fully expects odd looks sent to her for this.
So she just shrugs and explains, "Rule of trouble brief summary: my luck never goes my way unless I'm cheating. Ghost not likely let us take it because that be too easy." It was faster then the long explanation.
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Memories. The air swirled with them like painted leaves in a dust storm. Daniel instinctively reached out and took hold of the cedar scent with a feathered touch. There was a story of emotions here bound in oil and paper. The rush of it was too much to make any sense though but Daniel breathed it in.
Daniel sighed and gazed around the apartment. Now that the rush had passed over him, he could think a little clearer. Daniel looked over the different pictures and the remains of a man’s life. He half listened as the others spoke. All around the pictures showed frozen moments.
His eyes were drawn to the long fingered goblin, remembering the handprint out in the hall. Could it be possible the murderer was in fact painted here. It seemed far-fetched but Daniel found himself examining the hands for a shortened finger.
This did present a problem. It didn’t feel right to leave things like this around. The voice of the Lady spoke saying preserve it, remember it, don’t let it be forgotten. The voice of Winter spoke saying bury it, destroy it, banish it from the sun’s eyes. However, Daniel knew the police had been here already. Even if they took every picture, evidence was sure to have taken photos. That also assumed the ghost allowed them to ransack it's home. Given what Ramoma had relayed, that seemed unlikely.
“Sometimes,” he said softly to no one in particular “people just have a hard time letting go of things. If someone were to try to take something you thought important in your life, would you submit quietly?”
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