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 Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2010 1:57 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 1:12 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 3:46 pm
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The halls of the house were dark, dimly lit by a flicker of candle flame and the blinking of a red light from the shadows. On, off, on off, the red light repeated its pattern to satisfaction, not moving, not doing anything other then blinking.
It was damp and dangerous, the old wood of the house rotting from mistreatment of the weather. It had no been properly cared for or loved for many years.
The sound of wind whistled through the creaking cracks of the building, hurling through the corridors, testing, tempting the small lit flames that shuddered in the noiseless silence.
There was no sound, no movement, nothing. It was spaceless, timeless, nothing but the wind and the flames. Across the hallway, turning right into the nearest bedroom was a small crew of five people. Two maned the machines, the radios and amplifiers, another set monitored the hallway via recording camera. The air in the room was tense did disease, the static of the hyped fear and excitement were all hushed to their simplest forms, watch, listen, wait.
It was a daunting, frightening task. Sometimes orbs would appear, sometimes the sound of foot steps that echoed through the hallway. It was at those times that the ghost hunting crew was breathless.
If they were lucky, in a unfortunate way, the crew of five would watch before them orbs (one of the most exciting parts of the job) or the camera tipping over to crash onto the floor, causing a new perspective to crash over the group. Everyone would be stuck on that static, tense wave, waiting, waiting, always in silence, always in heightened sense to pick up then next subtle movement or quiet sound.
Their job seemed simple enough, hunting ghosts, recording the activity of paranormal reactions that jostled the scales of reality. It was thrilling but at the same time chilling.
From under their cover, the group was a crack team of exorcists ready to name and challenge the haunting figures of the residence be it house, factory or a run down church. It was their job, one they had taken upon themselves, to send lost souls to their place or devilish spirits to hell.
Damien sat on the clothed couch, his arms crossed over his long black coat. He was watching the group with cold eyes, monitoring them and their screen. He seemed hardly amused with the whole concept of sitting and waiting, or so one would think.
He was rather content sitting around doing nothing. If there was no spirit then they would leave, as simple as that. It meant that they could spend time somewhere more entertaining, maybe an old abandoned prison perhaps.
A sudden bump came from the sound device. One of the five, the blond haired, 5"6 male named Josh, jolted up straight as his eyes stared holes into the screen. He was on peak alert, scanning for any sign of activity. A few minutes of increased tension subsided into suspicions of being nothing more then the wind thumping, drumming against the house. He seemed unhappy with this turn out. His back arched forward as he leaned on his hands, letting out a prolonged sigh. "Jeeze, its been like this for hours now. When can we take a break?" he ask, mumbling over a yawn.
Damien turned to look at his watch, breathed a heavy sigh and stood up, shoving his hands into his jean's pockets as he sauntered slowly over to Josh. "Go, take a break, I'll man the station while you rest up."
Josh stretched, cat-like, yawning openly before pulling off the head phones. "Thanks Damien," he replied, stretching up to full height, being shorter of Damien, and pushed the swivel chair away so he could move freely to the couch. "Just let me know if anything happens, okay?" He yawned once again as he teetered towards the couch, slightly off balance from the long sitting time he had endured.
Josh flopped onto the couch and nestled his head into the the back before curling up to get some shut eye.
Damien moved slowly into the chair, letting ever inch of his body unfold into the black leather as he pulled on the head phones. It was better then sitting around doing nothing. It also meant that he was more likely to pick something up, not that it would happen anyways. That's what he was hopping for though, just a little bit of action, a trigger to move the investigation ahead as planned. It was just too unnerving to sit around and do nothing waiting, always just waiting for the unexpected.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 4:21 pm
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She could feel the house watching her. The goosebumps that came with intense, studying, and unseen eyes prickled up and down Alice's arms before sliding up to the back of her neck like some sort of cold, inhuman hand. Despite her original skepticism, she found herself hardly daring to breathe. Swallowing, she hooked a strand of auburn hair back behind her ear and pointed her camera at a fallen, once decadent crystal chandelier. The flash came a moment or two later, exactly when it was supposed to, but she tensed involuntarily, anyway. This was stupid. It was just an old house, and the pictures were going to come out beautifully. She just had to concentrate on not falling through rotten floorboards.
The house was beautiful, for whatever that was worth; the fact that its elegance had decayed did not diminish that. In fact, it almost enhanced it. The lace doilies on the cracked, ancient wood of once-fine furniture had been eaten away in patches by moths. Tarnished silver vases held the remains of long dead flowers. Without really thinking about it, she reached out to brush the dried, graying pink petal of a rose with the tip of her index finger, and let out an odd, strangled little gasp as the whole flower abruptly crumbled into dust at the light touch. After staring at the headless stem for a few seconds, she impulsively raised her camera and took a picture of it. Blinking purple spots from her eyes, she studied it thoughtfully for another moment or two, and then turned to carefully continue down the hallway, testing each board with a sneakered foot before trusting it with her full weight.
She had to wonder, though... Why had the owners left everything here? She knew in a vague sort of way that this house was supposed to be haunted-- it was part of the reason why she'd chosen this particular location for her pictures-- so at least one of the original inhabitants had probably died, but surely the next of kin would have wanted some of this? And if there weren't any relatives-- also sort of a creepy thought-- then the goods would have gone to the government, wouldn't they? She knew that the house was city property... So...? There had to be at least a few thousand dollars worth of silver in here, and the furniture had obviously been valuable at one point. Why had it been left to gather dust? She couldn't make any sense of it.
Suddenly, she stopped, her muscles tense. Footsteps. There were footsteps behind her. They'd started so quietly that she couldn't say for sure when they'd started, but now that she was thinking about it, they'd probably been sounding for a while. And they'd stopped when she stopped. Slowly, she turned her head to glance behind, her heart thudding away in her chest as her mind hissed 'Run. RUN!'
There was, however, absolutely nothing there.
Letting out a relieved breath, she stepped forward firmly. Way to be a sterotypical gir--
The floorboards gave out beneath her, and she fell through with an echoing shriek that--in context-- sounded more like a tormented, vengeful spirit than a frightened girl.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 6:16 pm
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Damien sat in front of the monitor, clicking her finger nails against the wooden desk as he watched the blank, uneventful screen. 'This is boring...' he thought unamused with the lack of eventful things going on. He was at it for quite awhile until another of his coworkers had slapped him upside the head for the annoying, rhythmic tapping of fingers against wood. It, apparently, was driving everyone insane, tightening their nerves so much that it just happened to be the cause of highest stress in the room.
Damien instantly turned around, slapped the female with the back of his hand before turning around completely. He had one head phone hanging off behind his ear. "What the heck was that for?" he questioned with a cold, brutally unemotional voice.
"Top the damn tapping would you? Its enough that we're all on edge..." she paused to look him directly in the eyes before leaning into his face. She snapped her fingers periodically, three times to be exact, in front of him to grab his attention. "What the hell has gotten into you lately? You're zoning out, hey are you even listening to me!?" she growled grabbing his shoulders.
"Shut up for a minute, would you?" he growled back, knocking off her hands as he turned around to look at the monitor.
The female, short black hair, curved around her Chinese face, stared at him with her crystal clear eyes, expressing a wide arrange of emotions from surprise to annoyance. However, she knew when it was best to shut her trap and listen.
In the background of the stereos set up around the house was the sound of creaking foot prints. Everyone in the room froze with silent electricity. Their search would be for not.
The steps continued for a moment, stopping and starting up again as if the visitor was searching for something. "Check the monitors, tell me if you see anything," Damien demanded as he started to fiddle and fine tune the dials on the detectors. He played with the audio as the third male, Bert, rolled his chair across the wooden flooring to check on the monitors, typing in commands on the classic style, black coloured key boards. There was the faint sound of tapping as Damien watched the screen before his eyes. His dark orbs scanned and darted around the television trying to see something that was not there.
"Nothing on video #2, #3 or #4. Anything on #1?" Bert asked as he pushed up his half-mooned glasses with his middle finger so that the dim light in the room bounced off of them, obscuring his eyes for seconds.
"Nothing," what about the upper-" Damien paused as he watched one of the screens light up with an instant flash. "What the heck!"
He stared at the screen and then allowed his eyes to dart towards Bert. "Stop the tape, rewind it back a minute!" he demanded with a sort of ecstatic energy in his voice.
Bert nodded and turned right around. "Uh...what number?" he asked feeling sort of stupid for having to ask.
"Camera three, hurry!" Damien replied as he started to sound edgy.
"Right," Bert rewound the tape up until the flash. He examined the video second by second and watched as the flash illuminated the screen.
By this time Damien had rolled his chair behind Bert's and stared over his shoulder, watching the television. "It appears to be a camera flash," Bert suggested.
"Did one of the lights break?" the black haired woman named Lin asked.
"I doubt it, it does look like a camera flash." Damien mulled over as he stroked his chin. "Replay to see if we can catch a reflection on the lens of the source of the light," he demanded.
Bert nodded in compliance and slowly rolled back the tape. "Stop it right there." Damien ordered.
Bert paused the tape.
"Zoom in to 100%, section A4 on the screen." Damien said as he watched the screen.
"Zoom in to 150%, clear the picture."
The findings almost made Damien jump out of his seat. "Look at that!" he spoke with a cocky, electric voice. "Looks like we have a female ghost running around our little house here," he smirked almost grinning.
"Well, I guess this hasn't been a complete waste of time," Lin muttered under her breath as she crossed over her arms.
"Ha!" Bert mused, as he leaned back into his chair. "Time to pay up!"
Lin rolled her eyes and slapped Bert across the face, leaving a red hand print on his left cheek. "That's not what I meant-"
The whole conversation was destroyed into silence as the sound of cracking rippled through microphones, loud and clear. Everyone in the room froze, silence prevailed, as breaths were held, the atmosphere becoming tense and tight once again.
Then came the blood curling scream of a banshee. Everyone's breath failed them, the cold fear rippling through their arms, standing ever hair on their body on full alert. Goosebumps pimpled the skin.
Damien jolted out of his seat, pulling the cord right out of the socket, his eyes wild, his heart racing a thousand beats per second, pressing the oxygen out of his lungs. He was frozen in fear. It wasn't just him that was startled this badly.
Josh had heard it too even from his impregnable sleep. He stumbled and toppled off of the couch and hit the carpeted flooring with a loud thud which only helped to increase the fear which rippled through the group in waves. "What the hell was that!" he yelled, slowly sitting up to rub his bruised head.
Damien turned his head quickly to camera one. "s**t! We've lost the feed on camera 1!" he declared in annoyance. Before anyone could say anything Damien was half way out the door and then down the hallway, Lin yelling at him not to run off and do something reckless.
He was energized by fear, he was a machine that would not be stopped. Damien dashed down the hallway, his heart beat quickening with every second, excitement radiating off of him. He couldn't help it, this was going to be one hell of a break through after a long line of hopeless, stupid cases. All he was hoping for was the one thing they hunted, an encounter with a real ghost.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 6:46 pm
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Alice's vision slid back in after what felt like only a few seconds, but it was strange and... squiggly. Ugh. Don't be stupid. Vision isn't squiggly, a small but sharp voice at the back of her mind snapped. You'd better hope that you don't have a concussion. The thought made her groan. Okay, one thing at a time. First, were any of her body parts at strange or unnatural angles? Turning her head to the side, she checked her left arm. It seemed okay... Carefully, she moved it. So far so good... The wrist was alright, and so was her shoulder. Elbow intact...
After going through the same checklist with her right arm, Alice gingerly tried sitting up. The world around her tilted briefly; she gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the bizarre sensation to pass. Eventually it did, albeit reluctantly, and her eyes blinked open again. Where had she ended up? Squinting around in the darkness, she tried to get some sense of where she could get back up to where she'd started. Although, honestly, did she really intend to stick around and take more pictures? Really? She could have died!
In any case, the only thing she could make out was the patch of comparative light above her--probably the hole she'd fallen through-- and the resulting illuminated floorboards that she was in the middle of. Scattered around her were shattered floorboards and wood chips, certainly nothing that could help her get back up.
Although... now that she was looking at it, it really wasn't that high. Maybe 10 feet, which also meant that she probably couldn't have killed herself with that fall, unless she'd landed on her head or neck. Maybe if she could find something to stand on... But she'd need light. Light... Her camera! Smiling--more out of relief than any actual amusement, she looked around her, expecting to see her camera lying nearby.
It was.
... In about six separate pieces.
Alice stared at the incredibly expensive, now BROKEN, device with wide, disbelieving eyes, slowly bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. This could not be happening. Her camera... her $1000 camera. Plus all of the film for her project. What the hell... And she STILL had no way to get back up?
Slowly, the hand covering her mouth balled up into a trembling fist. She was so... SO... PISSED! And mostly at herself! Who else did she have to blame? What had seemed so damn intelligent about breaking into a condemned building for her photography project, anyway? It was all her fault! All... All...
Abruptly, a quiet sob tore out of her throat, quickly followed by another, and the clenched fist went slack before listlessly falling back to rest on the dusty floorboards. Alice did not approve of crying, as a rule, and at that point she still held to that rule... which of course did not mean that she could help doing it.
It was at this point that she heard the footsteps again. This time, however, they were running. Crashing through the house. Toward her. Her breath hitched, and her tears stopped as her heartbeat once again sped up exponentially. What was that? This house was empty! Condemned! And she couldn't pretend that she was imagining things this time, because she could still hear it, and it was still getting louder...
Making an effort to be as quiet as she could, Alice scooted back over the creaking floorboards and out of the patch of light that her fall through the floor had created. If she couldn't see into the shadows, hopefully the gho-- Hopefully whoever was coming wouldn't be able to, either.
She did not think to grab her broken camera.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 7:18 pm
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A pale, white beam of light scouted out the hallways before Damien. He found himself forward, approaching where he thought the camera would have been. It wasn't there. He started into the darkening hallway befuddled with the sudden disappearance of the device. He cursed and cussed lowly under his breath before scouting out the rest of the hallway. The beam shone over the walls decorated with an old Victorian styled wallpaper, red with etches and patterns of gold, to the family portraits and the small wooden tables that lined the rather large, but suffocating chamber. Damien soon found himself gagging and coughing on the newly risen dust, his hacks and coughs becoming more noticeable and loud. "Frigging dust," he growled under his breath, his eyes watering with the sting of the tiny particles in his eyes.
He moved his sleeve close to his face and then rubbed his closed eyes across the black coat poorly attempting to cleanse his eyes of the hideous annoyance. He continued to sniffle as he slowly regained sight, his hacking and coughing fading back into the undisturbed silence.
He found himself moving closer to where the camera was supposed to be, shining the light in that direction. No luck. No camera, no sound, no trace of the blasted device. "Jeeze, what the hell is with this place anyways?" he hissed under his groggy breath, his feet tapping across the wooden flooring rhythmically.
The foot steps stopped abruptly when Damien came to the end of the way. It wasn't exactly the end of the hallway but it certainly was impassable seeing how there was a huge, gaping hole in the middle of the corridor. "What the bloody hell-" he began, his eyes wide with a mix of emotions. "Now this is certainly a first-" his voice was interrupted by the sudden sound of cracking. He felt the wood under his feet slowly crack and fall away at his feet. "Oh shhhhhhhhhhit!" he yelled as he lost his balance completely. Damien attempted to grab a hold of the crumbling edge, but in his despair and lack of luck, he tumbled backwards, scrapping at the wood in his final attempts of salvation.
He fell in.
With those brief, floating, numb moments, he thought, just for one second, that he was going to die. He was going to die because he fell down a damn hole in the middle of the house. Broken and mangled against the hard concrete, the feel, the sound of his head crunching against the floor, his limbs jutting from his broken body unnaturally. It was a startling thought that made the pain of falling that much more real, that much more hopeless. He felt like he was suffocating in the silence of the seconds.
*thud*
He hit the floor. His back first followed by his head, and the rest of his body. He laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, his head killing him from the impact, not literally thought. He was very much alive. He had just acquired a major headache. "Ouch, what a fall," he mumbled, sitting up slowly as his vision focused in place, his mind a race with dizzy thoughts and emotions. It took him a few minutes to throw everything back into order again. He opened his eyes and looked around the dark landscape of the lower floor. More dust.
Damien started coughing and sneezing again in an uncontrollable fit. It would take him a few more minutes to calm down and clear up his passageways before being able to get up and walk around. "Stupid, crappy, rotting flooring," he growled as he began to search for that beam of light which was his flash light.
It had not fallen far from him and it was rather easy to locate having survived the ten foot fall drop. Damien bent down and picked it up before flashing it around the room. The beam fell over old furniture and doors before skidding across the video camera. "Ah, you have to be kidding me!" he cursed, bending down to look at the mangled recording device. He, at figure, figured that he had fallen on top of it however, realization came into play and he recalled the fact that it was already dead by the time he fell into the hole. That left him with a suspicion, one short lived.
The beam of light flickered across the flooring for a little while longer only to discover a fleeting image of a person's legs. He halted the movement and then quickly traced the figure with his light, shining it directly into her eyes. "You!" he yelled, pointing the flashlight directly at her still. "What the hell are you doing in a place like this?" he demanded, his face dark and cold with the flickering shadows dancing across him face.
"And you broke my camera!"
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 7:45 pm
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The pounding feet slowed, then stopped at the edge of the hole. She heard someone coughing, and then someone murmuring to themselves... did they have a flashlight? But ghosts didn't carry--
Right then, there was a cracking sound, which she instinctively scooted back from, quickly followed by a distinctly male yell as someone toppled through the hole. She watched, horrified, and then winced as whoever it was landed with a painfully solid 'thump'. The dust the fallen body stirred up made her cough a few times, and she had to close her watering eyes. Whoever that was, they were human; solid, real, alive, human. Ghosts didn't yell like that, and they certainly didn't make solid sounds like that when they fell... which meant...
Her eyes snapped open. Was he okay? She had survived the fall, but if he'd fallen badly, he could have paralyzed himself, or--
"Ouch, what a fall." He--whoever he was-- was slowly sitting up, his face obscured by his dark hair. Alice let out a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding. It would have been awful to have been stuck down there with a dead person, she found herself thinking dazidly. Not that it would have been much less horrible to be stuck down there without a dead person--
Wait... She stared at him absently as he scooped up his flashlight and began searching for something, muttering to himself in a bad-tempered sort of way, her still aching, fuzzy head trying to work out what this meant. He was a person... in this house. And he had a flashlight, which meant that he had been prepared to be in this house. Which meant--
Suddenly, a bright light was shining in her face; her face flinched away from it even as her hand came up automatically to shield her eyes. "You!" a harsh voice shouted, "What the hell are you doing in a place like this?" She squinted underneath her hand, trying to get a glimpse of his face, but his flashlight was too bright to see past. "And you broke my camera!"
"C-camera?" she asked uncertainly, trying to get this accusation to fit in with what she understood about the situation so far-- which, for the record, wasn't much. "I didn't see any..." She hadn't seen a camera! There hadn't been... Except for hers, and her camera wasn't his, although it was broken. Why would there have been a camera in a place like this, in any case? Aside from hers... Ow. Her head. Okay, one thing at a time. "I didn't see any camera," she told him, trying to sound firm instead of confused and possibly concussed. ...But WHY was he continuing to shine that damned light in her eyes? "Could you get that out of my face?" she added a bit more sharply, still attempting to protect her eyes.
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Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 1:57 pm
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The light shook in Damien's hand as he held his arm out straight, pointing it at the girl, headphone wire dangling from the head phones around his neck. He was not in a very happy mood. He stood there before her, still and strong in his conviction, towering over her state on the floor. He could careless about who she was, what she was doing there or how she managed to mangle one of his pride and joys. It ticked him off that she just so happened to continue to deny the fact that she had killed the camera.
"C-camera?" she asked uncertainly, trying to get this accusation to fit in with what she understood about the situation so far-- which, for the record, wasn't much. "I didn't see any..."
"That video camera, right there!" he growled moving the light away quickly to point at the mangled piece of hardware, lying motionless in its own bloody mess of decapitation. Black and silver pieces of digital equipment were scattered all over the place, the thing looked worse then Damien felt.
"I didn't see any camera," she told him.
'She's still trying to deny it!' he fumed, his eyes darkening, hardening over as he stared bullets into the poor, helpless girl. "So help me-" he began, biting his curse words back into the recesses of his mind. He would attempt to act like a gentlemen around her but he wouldn't be gentle.
The fact that she had unknowingly destroyed it was out of either confusion or she was attempting to play dumb. That would only tick him off more, enough so that his fingers tensed and tightened around the flashlight.
"I hope you know that that was a very expensive piece of hardware. More then 2500 dollars to be more exact," his words were bitter with anger and disappointment. He was yet to finish with the girl.
His face turned to utter repulse as he flicked the light back into the girl's eyes.
Could you get that out of my face?" she added a bit more sharply, still attempting to protect her eyes.
Damien hissed under his breath before he removed the beam of white light from her face. He then turned around and bent down to examine the mess. "Nothing to salvage! The memory card is completely destroyed!" He was muttering madly under his breath at this point.
"Hours of work, hours of research just gone! Gone like that!" He was shaking his head letting out deep, angry sighs under his breath. Damien then rose to his feet, dropped the crumpled pieces of equipment onto the ground before pointing the flash light, once again, on the girl's face. "Get up" he commanded with a fierce cold edge to his voice.
"As of right now you are coming with me. You will pay me back the full amount of the recording device." He deemed it was the best way to deal with the situation. "When we get out of this house you will pay me back the full amount."
There was a sudden sound of footsteps from above. It didn't sound like any of the ones he had known,nor did it sound very encouraging. Damien was too annoyed to care at the moment. He walked over to the girl and held out his hand. "Get up already," he muttered, looking over his shoulder so any signs of the approaching person. There was nothing. Nothing however, the room was growing colder more quickly as the walls creaked with sounds of moaning, heavy weight. "We better get out of here soon."
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Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 2:27 pm
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Alice bristled at his tone of voice, but automatically started pulling herself into a standing position nonetheless. They did have to get out of there, after all; he wasn't wrong about that. But... why did she feel like she wanted to throw up, again? You will pay me back... Oh. Right. She had absolutely no idea where she was going to scrape together that kind of money; she was a graduate student, for christ's sake. She did work study. Maybe she could have scrounged up enough to replace her own damaged equipment, but this? No f**cking way. And definitely not both of them.
This whole thing was-- And he was STILL shouting at her, the damned p***k, and WHY was that light BACK in her FACE?!? He moved it again almost right away, but she was not appeased. "Alright," she hissed, automatically bringing a threatening finger up to point at him, "If you stick that thing in my face one more time, we are going to get into a fist fight. Capiche?" The threat was a little less impressive than it would have normally been, seeing as she was still sitting on the ground despite her best efforts. She would NOT, however, take his proffered hand. Jerk. Part of her felt juvenile and silly for behaving this way, especially in the face of their current predicament, but he was being a grade A jerk, and she wasn't going to take his hand. Period.
Using the wall to steady herself--and getting several splinters for her pains-- she finally got herself upright a few seconds later, continuing to pointedly ignore the extended hand. She had been about to say something about his ludicrous insistence that she pay him back for a camera that she hadn't even seen--he didn't have a legal leg to stand on; she was positive-- when she suddenly noticed the sounds... as well as the goosebumps on her arms. She opened her mouth to say something anyway, then found that she couldn't think over the blood pounding in her ears, so she just shut her mouth and nodded at him.
Walking unsteadily over to the hole in the roof (she was pretty sure that she did have a mild concussion, by that point), she looked up at the faint (was it dimming even more?) light, then back at him. "I think I could get up if you gave me a boost," she told him matter-of-factly, her expression trying to be just as cold as his. Her face just wasn't as suited for it, though. "I saw a tapestry earlier that looked pretty sturdy," she continued, "I could use that to pull you out once I'm up." She'd have to test it, just to see if it would hold weight.
What were those sounds?
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2010 1:44 pm
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"If you stick that thing in my face one more time, we are going to get into a fist fight. Capiche?"
Charming. Simply charming. He had barely known her for five minutes and she already planned on picking a fight with him. Well it wasn't his fault that he had fallen into the hole she made. It wasn't his fault that she just happened to break his video camera. Nonetheless, he was going to at least try and avoid any more confrontations with the woman. The last thing he needed was cat fight between him and some snooping punk.
The flash light was swooping across the darkness in the hallway. She had already ignored his gesture so there was no point in giving her a hand with anything else. Damien would simply let her do what she wanted no matter if she got herself into trouble or pain.
At least she didn't look too bad, what the first thought that crossed his mind. That mattered little at the moment. She was up and walking around so that meant that he didn't have to carry her around the house; bonus.
Damien had moved to pick up the pieces of the camera when he turned to look at the girl who was examining the hole in the floor before them.
"I think I could get up if you gave me a boost," she told him matter-of-factly, her expression trying to be just as cold as his. Her face just wasn't as suited for it, though.
"Sure..." he muttered as he managed to pick up the larger chunks of the camera. The little bits he would need to leave behind. She was trying to be cold, how cute. Too bad it wasn't working because it did nothing to change Damien's attitude towards her.
"I saw a tapestry earlier that looked pretty sturdy," she continued, "I could use that to pull you out once I'm up."
"Not likely," Damien cut in as she pulled to a full height. "Everything in this house is over sixty years old. The tapestry would have most likely suffered water damage, not to mention ages of wear and tare from the elements and the bugs. Unless you want to break your neck, I would advise against it." His voice was emotionless as he turned away from the girl, scooping out the rest of the room with his light.
"I could use that to pull you out once I'm up."
"Unless you've bumped your head and caused sudden amnesia, I won't blame you for forgetting that the wood is ancient and rotted. Even if you were able to get up there by climbing the tapestry, there would be no way the floor would hold us both. Besides, there's always a chance that you'll ditch me right after I help you." He was dead serious about this.
"If you ask me, we would be better off going through that door over there," he said flashing the light on the door knob. "It would be less painstaking." He wouldn't add in the fact that he already knew the way out. It would only make the girl feel more stupid which was what he was trying not to do. Then again, he was already doing a brilliant job at that. Which reminded him.
'God damnit, I forgot the walkie-talkie.' that was his smart move of the day, running off like an idiot without the right equipment. 'I guess I'll have to watch for that next time.'
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