Shiloh’s Thursday afternoon odd encounter(Shiloh)
Date: 2025-07-03 15:29
(Shiloh’s Thursday afternoon odd encounter(Shiloh):Shiloh)
[Thu Jul 3 2025]
An antique shop
It is about 75F(23C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Thornberry and Lake/span>/spanRen is a semi-aware fabled who thinks maybe they aren’t real as the divide between reality and their fate-crafted nature leaves them spiralling.
(Your target discovers a cursed object in an antique shop, thrift store, or estate sale that begins affecting everyone around them with increasing paranoia and violent impulses. They must figure out what the object is and how to contain or destroy it before someone gets seriously hurt.)
word has begun to spread among the supernatural community of a strange object that keeps reappearing in pawn shops and antique shops around New Haven. The rumor goes that whoever buys the music box suffers a horrible fate. a few of the previous owners having wound up hospitalized, some even dead. And so the cursed object makes its rounds once again after its former owner sold it off in a hurry taking less than five dollars for the thing just to be rid of it. And once again it’s come to haunt the shelves of another antique store amidst this strange town.
Word has begun to spread among the supernatural community of a strange object that keeps reappearing in pawn shops and antique shops around New Haven. The rumor goes that whoever buys the music box suffers a horrible fate. a few of the previous owners having wound up hospitalized, some even dead. And so the cursed object makes its rounds once again after its former owner sold it off in a hurry taking less than five dollars for the thing just to be rid of it. And once again it’s come to haunt the shelves of another antique store amidst this strange town. *fix
Ren is no member of the supernatural community, except by accident. They rarely finds themselves in the know of any such rumors. They goes to their store, they tends their shop, then they goes home. Then they try to keep from thinking about the horrors. Sometimes it works. Today however, they are making their way down the street. They hesitate a moment, and for one reason or another, find themselves drawn to a pawnshop, antique shop. Maybe they might find something interesting? Who knows.
The door opens and a bell chimes, alerting the owner of a new customer. The store seems to be empty, save for the sound of movement in the room behind the counter “Be with ya one second dear! Just have a look around, see if anything stands out!” The voice calls from another room, followed by the sound of ruffling papers and shifting boxes. Once Ren steps in, they would find that the shop is clearly an antique itself, dust and cobwebs more common among the storefront than their actual stock. The old world Victorian architecture however, does have some charm to it. Lining the shelves are mostly old vintage porcelain dolls of varying make and design, kept in as good of a condition as can be managed for their age. One item, however, does stand out. One of the few items in this store that isn’t a doll- It’s a music box. Made from ivory with depictions of a circus carved into it’s white, marbled frame. Copper hinges line the back crease in the box with a small wind-up dial.
Ren peers left and right, slow curious steps. They don’t wander in too far, of course, lacking any kind of formal invitation. But they do look about with an obvious curiosity.
Ren likes places like these, feels like history, feels like it has meaning and value. A quiet park of them feels nervous at the inkling that, nothing in this town has any value or meaning at all. Especially not them. Such thoughts are always there, lazing in the background as they slowly find themselves stepping in, drawn towards this curious little music box.
The busy sounds coming from the back room have stopped, and a portly woman who looks to be in her 50’s appears behind the counter. She watches Ren from behind wide emerald eyes, smiling softly as they seem to find interest in one of the shop’s belongings. “Weird story behind that thing.” She comments behind the counter, her rosy cheeks dimpling as her smile stretches. “This store is more of a hobby for me- I really like antique dolls. But the previous owner of that box came in begging for me to buy it off them. I was lost for words because they were willing to practically give it away.” She rests her hands on the counter with a small sigh as she leans in against it, the old wood creaking beneath her weight. “It’s got a pretty look to it at least.”
Ren blinks and stops when the woman enters. They tip their head in apology but seems like it’s fine. They peers over at it and grimaces. “…it’s spooky.”
“Um, I mean, just in that way most old things can be. Why were they so desperate to hand it off?” Ren wonders. “Maybe it just has some old memories…” They step closer to put hands on it
The portly woman steps out from behind the counter to join Ren at the shelves, hefting her shoulders into a shrug “Not really sure, they were all panicked and I couldn’t make out everything they were saying.” She adds as she peers over to the music box curiously. As Ren’s hand makes contact they get a flash of visions. Fire. Sirens. Warped metal. A whisper tickles the back of Ren’s neck “Run…” But if he would look to the shopkeeper, she doesn’t seem to react to any of this.
The portly woman steps out from behind the counter to join Ren at the shelves, hefting her shoulders into a shrug “Not really sure, they were all panicked and I couldn’t make out everything they were saying.” She adds as she peers over to the music box curiously. As Ren’s hand makes contact they get a flash of visions. Fire. Sirens. Warped metal. A whisper tickles the back of Ren’s neck “Run…” But if they would look to the shopkeeper, she doesn’t seem to react to any of this. *fix
Ren peers over, and whatever they feel is masked by a coy smile. “Well…” They look back, hand in their pocket, hiding the tremor. “Would you mind if I took it off your hands? Honestly, it’s got a kind of punchy provenance.” They try to ignore the inkling unease rolling in their stomach.
Nails drag across a chalkboard in some unseen place, the screech filling Ren’s mind. The sultry laugh of a woman rises just out of their line of sight. The longer their hand remains on the box the more *real* these sensations become. Then Ren turns to the woman, she blinks slowly as her long lashes fan her eyes. “Oh! Sure, I can ring you up honey. Just bring it over to the counter.” She smiles as she wobbles off to her station of duty, pressing some buttons on the register before she looks up at Ren with an expectant smile “I only paid five for it, so I suppose I can let it go for eight. Not really what this shop is looking for anyways.”
Ren bites down on their lower lip until they taste copper.
Ren nods to the woman and fishes for their wallet, uneasily trying to put distance from the box until they have to deal with it. Handing over ten and waving off change. “Perfect,” they manage without looking like they’re going to throw up, as they move to retrieve their goods.
Reprieve, a silence fills Ren’s mind as they finally distance themselves from the box. Though, it only lasts for as long as the woman takes to ring them up as their hand moves to retrieve the box once again. Everything comes crashing like a wave hitting an unsuspecting surfer, sending them tumbling into the depths of the wide ocean. Ren catches something move out of the corner of their vision, a black blur, and a stench begins to fill the room. The rotting smell of decay. “It’s a set up… She wants to kill you…” The detached voice of a child rings through their ears. “You have to kill her. Save others from this pain.”
Ren smiles and thanks and turns, and their expression sinks, and they close their eyes.
“T-thanks again,” Ren manages as they all but race for the door, looking for the nearest place to rid themselves of this horrid box.
“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?!” A booming shout calls out from behind Ren as they make for the exit. Wet, splotching footsteps trail after Ren, *schlap* *schlap* *schlapschlapschlap* They’re growing faster, closer! Then the door finally shuts behind Ren and they find themselves surrounded by an eerie silence. As if the world around them has stopped. *HONK! HONK!* Out of the corner of their eyes they spot it. A truck careening out of control, barreling towards them!
Ren screams in terror, turning back to the sounds approach as they slam the door shut, then towards the truck. They scream. Human in all ways, they do little more then try to shrink and brace for what would be devastatingly deadly impact. “H-HELP!” They cry.
Silence returns, and when they expect to be hit by the oncoming truck… nothing. However, when Ren opens their eyes again, they would find a small crowd of onlookers watching as they shrink and cry for help. Brows creased in worry and silent judgment. ‘What is that idiot doing?’ ‘Look at them, they must me on drugs.’ Hushed whispers form from the crowd, only growing louder by the second as their faces warp into unnaturally wide grins, turning to each other and laughing at Ren. ‘What a LOSER!’ One calls out, pointing directly at Ren.
Silence returns, and when they expect to be hit by the oncoming truck… nothing. However, when Ren opens their eyes again, they would find a small crowd of onlookers watching as they shrink and cry for help. Brows creased in worry and silent judgment. ‘What is that idiot doing?’ ‘Look at them, they must be on drugs.’ Hushed whispers form from the crowd, only growing louder by the second as their faces warp into unnaturally wide grins, turning to each other and laughing at Ren. ‘What a LOSER!’ One calls out, pointing directly at Ren. *fix
Ren bites and chews on their lip. They shakes their head, ignoring them. Not the first, nor the last moment of suffering and misery they’ll experience in this world. They let it pass and lifts off their feet. They’re crying, but it’s stubborn now, angry. They clench the box and storm around the building, an alleyway, whatever privacy they can find. Their first attempt? Stomp the thing into tiny pitiful pieces.
As Ren rushes into a nearby alley, the world begins to darken as the day had entirely gone past in the time it took Ren to get here. Just out of his peripheral range they spot a dark figure hanging from a fire escape by a rope, swinging slowly in the open air. The box goes down, silence again, the figure disappears. Ren’s foot rises to stomp the box out, and at first it *feels* successful. A satisfying crunch can be felt beneath their foot. Then music starts to play. The devil’s tri-tone. A discordant melody that sends shivers up Ren’s spine.
Ren screams in fury, and fear, and terror. Their whole reality presses against the mind, an impossiblity. A being programmed merely to fill a stage whose masters thought it’d be funny to poke, and prod until eyes opened. Now they can’t stop seeing, can’t stop thinking. Madness is inevitible, but what is it to be mad simply because you finally see what is really there? They slam their foot down, again and again and again. “Shut up! SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!” they cry.
Rage courses through Ren’s very being as they stomp harder and harder, again and again. And it feels so *easy*, almost… blissful. They feel a voice, deep within themselves, begging to give into the rage. Why be a puppet? Why dance to a stage of someone else’s design? Don’t you want to be *free*? The dissonant chords grow louder the angrier Ren becomes, as if that rage is fueling the music box. Ren can feel eyes on the back of their head from an unseen location, they’re being watched now.
Ren tries to stop themselves, but in truth, self control was never their strong suit. How could it be, they’ve never really felt they held free will. Desire suffuses, not their own, never their own, but something elses. A roar of fury and and giddy sense of freedom. Of course, undercut by a simple nihilstic defense. Nothing good ever happens. Not this. Not anything. That part of them rests for control as they stumble back from the music box, gripping at their head. A small plea, “Please…be…quiet pleasepleasequietplease…”
That gaze on the back of Ren’s head grows suffocatingly predatory as they stumble backwards, a feeling as though Ren has fallen into the abyss itself. Everything moves in slow motion, the music reaching an overwhelming crescendo which rattles Ren’s very bones. But then they hit the ground. Silence has never felt so sweet. The box is gone, the music is gone, that gaze is gone. They’ve returned to the real world leaving no traces behind of Ren’s plight as the sun beats down against them once more. Was the box ever even real?
Ren sinks back against the wall. Ignoring the grime, the filthy, any of it. They slide down the wall until they’re sitting, gazing emptily. Until a long moment passes, the ennui is replaced with misery. They sob, empty and miserable until something disturbs them, or night falls. Just another lovely day in Haven, where the party never stops.
(Your target has been abducted by the syndicate for potential sale offworld, they must escape or stall their abductors long enough for their allies to be able to come rescue them before the transaction can take place.
)
Two people in masks come rushing in! They’re going right for Constance, looking really determined and mean. “That’s her!” one of them says in a man’s voice slightly muffled by his mask. “Careful, okay? She’s friggin’ huge,” hisses the other, a woman. They may have caught their target unawares, because they manage to get all the way close and grab Constance’s arms.
Constance turns around from where she was aiding in the running of the antique store, and stares down at the man and woman. “I’m going to give you three seconds to explain before I kick your entire asses,” she declares, confidently attempting to wrench her arm away.
“We ain’t gonna explain shit!” the man retorts and does his best to keep hold of Constance’s arm, huffing and grunting with effort. “Yeah,” says the female accomplice and goes for a grab around Constance’s midsection. “You gotta come with us, or else. We’ve got guns, okay?”
Constance engages with the man and woman, scowling – she tries to grab the arm and twist it around the man’s back, but the woman holding her midsection has her encumbered. “Like I don’t?”, she retorts, growling with a rising sense of adrenaline and bloodlust.
“Shit! Grab her, idiot!” the woman shrieks at her accomplice and does all she can to wrestle Constance to the ground, feet skidding all over the floor. The man, having briefly been shoved back, surges in again to help. “We gotta get her in the car!” he yells. “She’s gonna start calling on those nuns if we let her!”
Constance knows rule one of being taken to a third location by aggressors – you end up dead. She fights tooth and nail to avoid this, calling on all her supernatural strength and combat training.
There’s a very brief scuffle, and then the female assailant has been knocked on her arse while the male is seriously dazed by a brutal encounter with the store’s counter. “Fuck,” the former murmurs, fumbling sluggishly for a holster on her belt. “Steve, get her! Steve! Aw, come on!”
Constance goes to quickdraw her own shotgun from its holster slung across her chest and points it at the woman. “Get on the fucking ground, now!”, she growls, doing her best at intimidation.
“Okay, okay! Jesus friggin’ Christ!” she hisses, holding up her palms while cowering back a little from Constance’s shotgun. The dazed man makes a brief attempt to straighten himself off of the slump against the counter, only to topple sideways and fall onto the floor next to his associate.
“It’s just, er… it’s just our first job, that’s all,” the woman ventures and nudges her male accomplice insistently with her elbow. “And we got the wrong person, okay? We’re *so* sorry. There’s all these antique shops in this stupid city and, well,” she goes on awkwardly.
Constance shakes her head, glaring. “You said ‘that’s her’. You were after me specifically, not the goods. You have another three seconds before I paint the wall with you,” she states, although she doesn’t intend to do it on account of her own philosophy about deaht.
“We’re with the Syndicate and it was Mister Lefevre and there’s ten thousand bucks on your head on account of there’s people who think you church people are dangerous,” the woman immediately explains, spilling it all in a long string of galloping panic. Next to her, the battered man begins to come to, and he just sits up groggily to ask, “Did we get her?”
Constance snorts. “Who’s this Lefevre?”, she wonders, idly, wondering if they’d be willing to speak on that – but just the name and the connection is probably enough for her.
“Uh, he sort of… he’s a curator,” the woman ventures and glances uncertainly at her groggy accomplice. “Huh?” she man remarks and catches sight of Constance’s shotgun. “Shit!” he breathes. “Um, there was an order for a–you know, a big woman. For the auction on Saturday. Listen, they didn’t say you’d have guns and stuff. We thought you were a nun.”
Constance drily commends, “God bless the second amendment. Get the hell out of here,” she orders, brandishing her firearm at the door, “before I change my mind.”
“Hey, hang on,” the male assailant says and clambers slowly to his feet, keeping his palms raised the whole time. “It’s just, uh… it’s just they’re never gonna give us another job if they think we got beat up by a normal old nun,” he ventures and carefully beckons the masked woman up as well. “Do you think we could get a selfie with you and the shotgun so there’s proof we didn’t–you know what I mean. Else we’re never gonna hear the end of it.”
“Oh my god,” the woman isses and glances incredulously at her accomplice. “Steve, we can literally just leave! Alive!”
Constance stares at the man. “Are you fucking kidding me?”, is her immediate response, and then right afterwards, “Fifty bucks.”
“Shit,” the man mutters and starts patting himself down, going through his pockets. “I got two twenties,” he says after a little while and glances at his companion. She, in turn, sighs dejectedly and reaches into her pocket. “I got a twenty. That’s sixty. You figure she’s got change?”
Constance rolls her eyes so hard they threaten to pop out of her skull. She reaches into her fannypack, pulls out a ten, breaks change. “Get a picture while you’re fucking running from me pointing my shotgun at you,” she instructs.
“Okay-okay-okay, okay! Okay,” the female agent says and gestures insistently with her raised palms. “Here’s sixty,” she ventures and takes the two twenties from her partner before creeping closer to offer them to Constance. “It’s just we’re gonna get fired if they think we fucked up, so is that selfie still on?” Next to her, the man shuffles forward a little unhappily and keeps his empty hands in view.
Constance says “Absolutely not. YOu can take a picture of me with my guns. That’s proof enough.“
Constance takes a brief step back, keeping them all down-range.
“Fine. Cool. *Please* don’t shoot us,” the woman says and gets out her phone. The man next to her just sort of stays where he is while she raises the device to aim the little camera lens at Constance. “Could you sneer a little?”
“Just take the goddamn picture,” the man mutters at the woman.
“How do you turn on this fucking cat filter?!” she hisses at him.
“How do you turn off* this fucking cat filter?!” she hisses at him.
“We’re literally gonna die because you didn’t think we needed to do any research,” the man complains, gesturing irritably at his accomplice. “It’s just a bunch of nuns! What could go wrong!”
“Quit stressing me out,” the masked woman hisses, poking repeatedly at the phone. “I’m not used to Android.”
“I could have been a fucking pianist if I wanted,” the main mutters.
Constance puts her free hand up to her temple briefly, and then makes her best war face, pointing the shotgun one-handed at the pair again.
Constance says “We’re the Hollow Conclave, not just a ‘bunch of nuns’. I could feed your souls to demons and your bodies to my men.“
“Then what the hell did you take a job with Mister Lefevre for?” the woman scoffs and finally manages to take the picture of Constance, squinting with concentration. “Okay. That’s probably good enough,” she says. “Listenm we’re really sorry, okay? It’s just nobody told us about that. The file said something about a convent and women in habits and it’s not as if we could have known.”
Constance says “Yeah, because I’m supposed to feel better you were going to grab a weak helpless bunch of nuns to give them to the Syndicate for money. Fuck out of here.“
“Come on, Kimmie. Fuck,” the man insists and grabs his female accomplice by the arm. The two of them hurry out of the store, heading for a dark vehicle with tinted windows that soon speeds off without any abductee at all.
And so, Constance survived! The fate of the would-be kidnappers will remain forever shrouded in mystery, but they probably didn’t get any high-paying contracts again.
Also, Constance lived happily ever after.
Constance doubts that one.
“Oh, hello,” Mirabel says and smiles calmly at Constance. “Just looking around. How are you, dear?”
“Goodness gracious,” Mirabel remarks and raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, it had better not be about that stupid cat. I’ve got students wanting to kill each other over that. Something with the Hand and the Order, if you’ll believe it.”
“Well, apparently one of them stole a cat, and it turns out that these insufferable Hand types insist it was their cat,” Mirabel explains and lets out a long puff of breath. “So now young Shay Kerrigan is afraid to go to class, and Elliot Harrington thinks it’s his chance to prove himself.”
“They don’t seem to trust that we can keep them safe,” Mirabel mentions and scrunches her nose at Constance. “We can probably wait a little with the beatings, but if you could confince Mister Kerrigan that he’s safe on campus, that wouldn’t hurt.”
“In fact, Professor Alejandro is teaching just now,” Mirabel mentions. “Should we go and make sure everything’s in order?”