Encounterlogs
Claires Odd Encounter Sr Bellatrix
In the ostensibly tranquil Black Rose Book Store, Claire, absorbed in a book, encounters the unquiet spirit of a paper woman. As she delves into a history book, a haunting atmosphere envelops her. Books autonomously fling themselves from shelves, and pages rustle menacingly. Red ink spills from an aggressive book almost hitting her, and words scribe on their own, hinting at the spirit's earthly struggles and longings. Claire, initially startled, attempts to flee the supernatural manifestation, only to find herself ensnared in a literary labyrinth with the bookshelves rising like monolithic sentinels, closing in around her, and an unstoppable cascade of pages obscuring her vision.
Confronted with the spectral figure composed of paper, Claire listens as the entity bemoans her premature death, the perturbation of leaving a loved one behind, and expresses remorse over her unrealized potential. The ghostly presence, yearning for resolution, reveals her affection for a woman named Jenni and a poignant connection to the book store. In a moment of genuine empathy, Claire offers to deliver a message to Jenni, but the ghost declines, choosing a subtler remembrance. She asks Claire to occasionally fold origami swans from a specific bird book, a silent token of her enduring presence for Jenni to find. Claire agrees, and with the spirit's diary concluded, the encounter dissipates, leaving Claire to ponder the reality of her experience. True to her word, she begins crafting paper swans, a silent message to Jenni, connecting the living and the departed through a shared sanctuary of books.
(Claire's odd encounter(SRBellatrix):SRBellatrix)
[Wed Nov 15 2023]
In the Nonfiction Bestsellers Section of Black Rose Book Store
Hardwood flooring works its way into this area of
the shop where finely worked shelves of dark wood
stretch floor to ceiling on which many books have
been arranged. Plenty of natural light filters in
from the large bay windows which provide a lovely
view to the street beyond and serves as a display
case within the store and the street alike with a
number of popular titles that sit on exhibit. The
end of either side of the windows are framed by a
pair of rosy brocade armchairs, providing a place
to sit and read, or enjoy the store's atmosphere.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target and their allies stumble upon a haunted house causing havoc in the neighborhood. They must confront the ghost within, uncovering its tragic past in order to put it to rest and restore peace to the community.)
Claire is sat down on a squashy armchair, idly flicking through a book, the receipt still tucked deep in the pages. She is writing in the margins with a pencil now and then and seemingly unaware of her surroundings.
Piled high upon the shelves of the Black Rose Book Store are books upon books. Encyclopedias, ordinance surveys, historic tomes, cookery books and engineering diagrams reach floor to ceiling and mute the seemingly distant sounds of the Black Rose's Cafe to the mere occasional clink of crockery or beep of the till. Even the weather doesn't reach this deep into the shelves, all lighting provided by sconces and lights which, at this moment flicker dramatically. Just off to Claire's right, a book falls from the shelves seemingly of it's own accord, landing with a heavy thump upon it's leatherbound back cover.
With the sounds of the bookshop faded and deadened deep in the stacks, Claire has all but forgotten the world as she delved into an old history book, recently purchased. The resounding thump of a book takes her completely out of it, though, causing her to jump a bit. Sitting up a little straighter as she looks around, Claire remarks, "Hello? Anyone there." The telltale signs of a Chinese accent, the singsong elements of syllabic tonality creeping in on each word. Standing up, she sets her book to one side and walks around to the book that had fallen, squatting down to pick it up and examine it.
No voice answers Claire's call, eerie silence weighing almost as heavy as the towering shelves about Claire that seem taller by the moment. Was the ceiling always that high? And when did it get this quiet? Shadows lurk in the edge of Claire's vision, never there when Claire looks directly to them and yet always returning to the spots the moment her gaze turns elsewhere. As Claire approaches the book it bucks, lurching on it's blood red spine and flying open to cough a slick red liquid onto the floor in a grizzly, arterial spatter. It lands open and ink begins to form in neatly calligraphy on each page, the occasional jostle and splotch of ink out of place. The first page reads:
New years Resolutions:
1. Eat Healthy
2. Work out
3. New job...
The book continues to write itself, and yet at this moment Claire becomes aware of a dull roar of rustling paper, louder and louder until it seems to shake the room it can't possibly get any louder. The shelves carry on forever in both directions. No escape!
Claire's hand is nearly on the book when it lurches away and her hand darts away just as fast amid a cry of surprise. Her eyes widen as she stairs at the now open book, her expression one of concern masking growing fear as she watches the words form and the mundanity of their formation. She pulls herself up suddenly amid the rush of paper, planting her back against one of the shelves as she tosses her head back and forth, suddenly finding that the shelves go on seemingly forever. Confused and scared, she bolts, ripping down one of the hallways at random and tearing her way away from that rustling sound, trying to get away and perhaps throwing herself in a far more precarious position in the process.
Rounding the corner Claire is met with a cloud of flapping pages, books and magazine pages and clippings batting like wings from their spines and flowing in a stream in the direction Claire came from. So thick is the cloud Claire can barely see a foot once it reaches her, the flimsy pages bouncing off and past Claire with only the occasional one happening to sting as it administers a paper cut in it's passing. Where the book had been writing itself in silence before, a female voice now begins to narrate as copious self-help and beauty books fly towards it followed by a wave of herbal remedies.
Dear Diary,
Today I saw the Jenni again. Off shift this time. She crossed the street to say hello and her cheeks flushed the most beautiful red when I complimented her new earrings. She was surprised I'd noticed! I really should ask her out sometime...
Dear Diary,
I forgot to go to the gym again today. I'm so pathetic. Why can't I be better to myself.
Dear Diary,
Jenni said yes!
Dear Diary,
Today I saw Doctor Jeffries again. The cancer is back...
As the endless flow of paper coalesces around Claire, she throws up her arms around her face relying on her jacket to protect her, but leaving her hands vulnerable to a number of nicking paper cuts that slice in surprisingly deep for the source of their torment. Trying to throw herself to one side of against a shelve to let the frenzy of paper pass by. Her eyes widen as the books start to tumble through in earnest, ducking down to try to get out of the way of the bult of them. As she hears the book in earnest, realization hits her and Claire tries to backtrack to where she was before, trying to find her way back to that initial book that had fallen by the squashy armchairs.
Following the stream of pages it doesn't take Claire long to return to where she started and just as suddenly as the onslaught of paper began, so too does it stop and once again the library of books is quiet save for the sound of Claire's breath. Where there was a hallway ahead of Claire before there is now a bookcase. So too are there bookcases to the left and right. The original leatherbound book lies before Claire. "Why couldn't I live?" It asks. The voice is soft, mournful. A faint flutter of pages sounds as the book turns again. The final avenue of escape appears to be cut off also, another bookshelf having materialised in such a way that Claire shares a small, square room with the book. The pages rustle a little more intensely and after a moment the various pieces of paper float up from inside the book to a ghostly figure made of pages, her skin looking to be paper mache but the text far too pristine for that. The book continues to turn it's pages beneath the new person floating a couple inches above it, new diary exerpts writing themselves one by one but with no voice to narrate. "I did everything right." The paper woman says, neat, horn rimmed glasses of paper balanced on it's nose as it looks at Claire solemnly.
"Maybe not everything..." It acquieses. "But I tried to be good. To myself and to my friends."
Despite the initial fear and creepiness of the situation as a while, the plea catches Claire off-guard and the uncertainty and fear melt away amid the sincerity of the moment. Seating herself in front of the book, she watched and listens for a time, before finally saying, "Doing everything right is never a guarantee of a good life or a good outcome. You tried, I am sure." Leaning forward a little bit, Claire' voice lowers and her tone shifts conspiratorially as if she is giving away a secret, "I tried as well." Continuing on a little louder, she relays, "But what order we make of our lives can always be upended by the chaos surrounding us. Things out of your hands. Politics. Money.. Cancer." She lingers on that last word, before saying, "Some things are out of our hands."
A timid smile crosses the paper woman's face, each of her movements causing a faint rustling punctuated occasionally by the swish of a page turning in the book beneath her, a book that with each page turned gets nearer and nearer to it's end. "You're right, and I've made a fool of myself." The dead woman agrees with a sigh, adjusting the neck of an origami approximation of a turtleneck sweater wrapped about her form. The bespectacled eyes look about the store and she looks to be pleasantly surprised. "This is the Black Rose Book Store no? I loved this place." Her warm voice affirms, before a sigh follows, the woman again looking crestfallen and removing her glasses to clean them off against her jumper. There's no lense in her glasses of course, but paper also doesn't usually become people so norms are thrown out the window. "I really let Jenni down... Going ahead and dying like that. They took me out of town for treatment you know? No clinic in town on my insurance plan. I never saw her again before I went."
The ghost cracks a whisper of a smile again. "She loved birds that woman."
leans back against one of the bookshelves, idly putting one of her sliced fingers in her mouth leaving down of the oozing blood off with her tongue as she just listens for a while, as she listens to this spirit bare her literal soul. It should be disconcerting, but it wasn't a situation completely out of her wheelhouse. Claire had clearly dealt with the supernatural before, though not in this place. Looking around, Claire remarks, "It is a good little shop. I've spent much of my first day here reading." She pauses and lets the spirit continues before saying, "Ehhh. I would not burden yourself with guilt over dying. In my experience, people tend to dwell on how they treated the dead rather than vice versa. At least with loved ones, and it sounds like you two had something special going on from what I've gathered." Sucking on her teeth for a moment, Claire remarks, "You seem a good writer. Give me a note and tell me where to find her and maybe I can.. pass the message along."
The figure takes a knee before Claire's seated form, bring herself level with the blood consuming woman and eying the act with idle curiosity. She looks about to ask something, then perhaps considers that she is dead and again, norms are out the window. "Not a note." She considers, lips pursing and brows furrowing as thought is given to what she could do instead. A hand reaches out and puts a finger on one of the books on the shelf. "This one..." She says, her index finger rested on a book titled 'Amazing birds: A treasury of facts and triva about the avian world. "I don't want to creep her out with some eerie message from beyond the grave, but if I can make her life a bit better I think I can sleep easy." She looks to Claire and asks. "Do you think you could take a page from this every now and then and make an origami swan? Jenni works here... Just leave it on the counter for her to find... She won't know it's from me but I..." She shrugs. "Better she move on with her life. I'm dead now. But this might brighten her day."
Claire cracks a little smile at the request and says, "Well I can tell you didn't let her down in the slightest. Here you are well past your expiration date and you are still looking out for her mental health and trying to figure out the path that is most likely to ease her worries." Flashing the spirit a little wink, Claire says, "Very well. I think I can do as you ask, though I may need to practice the swans. I have not made any of those since I was a child. Easy to pick up though. I will do as you ask and I hope that the effort brings you and her a little comfort."
With that the ghost sighs contentment, her index finger drawing back on the spine of the indicated book until it is most of the way out then... THUMP, her diary comes to a close. It's as though Claire had blinked and arrived in a different place. The diary is gone and Claire is back in the Black Rose Book Store as it should be, till chiming in the distance and crockery clinking away. One might have thought nothing had happened at all but for the fact a second later a book falls from the shelves. 'Amazing Birds: A treasury of facts and triva about the avian world.'. The ghost is gone, and whether or not Claire chooses to follow up on her promise is up to her, but at the very least she is free of whatever paranormal plane the encounter drew her to.
As the walls open up, Claire finds herself sitting on the floor of the book shop, the severity of the situation having left and Claire briefly wondering if she had not simply had an episode of some kind. The sting of the cuts on her hands are enough to disabuse her of that notion as quickly as the book that thumps down to one side of her, causing her to jump. Still, much of the rest of the avenue is spent relearning origami swans with scrap pieces of paper. They are not especially good, at least for now, but whenever she leaves the shop a page from that book depicting a beautiful Korean Magpie has been removed and folding into a crane, before being left waiting on the front counter.
Confronted with the spectral figure composed of paper, Claire listens as the entity bemoans her premature death, the perturbation of leaving a loved one behind, and expresses remorse over her unrealized potential. The ghostly presence, yearning for resolution, reveals her affection for a woman named Jenni and a poignant connection to the book store. In a moment of genuine empathy, Claire offers to deliver a message to Jenni, but the ghost declines, choosing a subtler remembrance. She asks Claire to occasionally fold origami swans from a specific bird book, a silent token of her enduring presence for Jenni to find. Claire agrees, and with the spirit's diary concluded, the encounter dissipates, leaving Claire to ponder the reality of her experience. True to her word, she begins crafting paper swans, a silent message to Jenni, connecting the living and the departed through a shared sanctuary of books.
(Claire's odd encounter(SRBellatrix):SRBellatrix)
[Wed Nov 15 2023]
In the Nonfiction Bestsellers Section of Black Rose Book Store
Hardwood flooring works its way into this area of
the shop where finely worked shelves of dark wood
stretch floor to ceiling on which many books have
been arranged. Plenty of natural light filters in
from the large bay windows which provide a lovely
view to the street beyond and serves as a display
case within the store and the street alike with a
number of popular titles that sit on exhibit. The
end of either side of the windows are framed by a
pair of rosy brocade armchairs, providing a place
to sit and read, or enjoy the store's atmosphere.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target and their allies stumble upon a haunted house causing havoc in the neighborhood. They must confront the ghost within, uncovering its tragic past in order to put it to rest and restore peace to the community.)
Claire is sat down on a squashy armchair, idly flicking through a book, the receipt still tucked deep in the pages. She is writing in the margins with a pencil now and then and seemingly unaware of her surroundings.
Piled high upon the shelves of the Black Rose Book Store are books upon books. Encyclopedias, ordinance surveys, historic tomes, cookery books and engineering diagrams reach floor to ceiling and mute the seemingly distant sounds of the Black Rose's Cafe to the mere occasional clink of crockery or beep of the till. Even the weather doesn't reach this deep into the shelves, all lighting provided by sconces and lights which, at this moment flicker dramatically. Just off to Claire's right, a book falls from the shelves seemingly of it's own accord, landing with a heavy thump upon it's leatherbound back cover.
With the sounds of the bookshop faded and deadened deep in the stacks, Claire has all but forgotten the world as she delved into an old history book, recently purchased. The resounding thump of a book takes her completely out of it, though, causing her to jump a bit. Sitting up a little straighter as she looks around, Claire remarks, "Hello? Anyone there." The telltale signs of a Chinese accent, the singsong elements of syllabic tonality creeping in on each word. Standing up, she sets her book to one side and walks around to the book that had fallen, squatting down to pick it up and examine it.
No voice answers Claire's call, eerie silence weighing almost as heavy as the towering shelves about Claire that seem taller by the moment. Was the ceiling always that high? And when did it get this quiet? Shadows lurk in the edge of Claire's vision, never there when Claire looks directly to them and yet always returning to the spots the moment her gaze turns elsewhere. As Claire approaches the book it bucks, lurching on it's blood red spine and flying open to cough a slick red liquid onto the floor in a grizzly, arterial spatter. It lands open and ink begins to form in neatly calligraphy on each page, the occasional jostle and splotch of ink out of place. The first page reads:
New years Resolutions:
1. Eat Healthy
2. Work out
3. New job...
The book continues to write itself, and yet at this moment Claire becomes aware of a dull roar of rustling paper, louder and louder until it seems to shake the room it can't possibly get any louder. The shelves carry on forever in both directions. No escape!
Claire's hand is nearly on the book when it lurches away and her hand darts away just as fast amid a cry of surprise. Her eyes widen as she stairs at the now open book, her expression one of concern masking growing fear as she watches the words form and the mundanity of their formation. She pulls herself up suddenly amid the rush of paper, planting her back against one of the shelves as she tosses her head back and forth, suddenly finding that the shelves go on seemingly forever. Confused and scared, she bolts, ripping down one of the hallways at random and tearing her way away from that rustling sound, trying to get away and perhaps throwing herself in a far more precarious position in the process.
Rounding the corner Claire is met with a cloud of flapping pages, books and magazine pages and clippings batting like wings from their spines and flowing in a stream in the direction Claire came from. So thick is the cloud Claire can barely see a foot once it reaches her, the flimsy pages bouncing off and past Claire with only the occasional one happening to sting as it administers a paper cut in it's passing. Where the book had been writing itself in silence before, a female voice now begins to narrate as copious self-help and beauty books fly towards it followed by a wave of herbal remedies.
Dear Diary,
Today I saw the Jenni again. Off shift this time. She crossed the street to say hello and her cheeks flushed the most beautiful red when I complimented her new earrings. She was surprised I'd noticed! I really should ask her out sometime...
Dear Diary,
I forgot to go to the gym again today. I'm so pathetic. Why can't I be better to myself.
Dear Diary,
Jenni said yes!
Dear Diary,
Today I saw Doctor Jeffries again. The cancer is back...
As the endless flow of paper coalesces around Claire, she throws up her arms around her face relying on her jacket to protect her, but leaving her hands vulnerable to a number of nicking paper cuts that slice in surprisingly deep for the source of their torment. Trying to throw herself to one side of against a shelve to let the frenzy of paper pass by. Her eyes widen as the books start to tumble through in earnest, ducking down to try to get out of the way of the bult of them. As she hears the book in earnest, realization hits her and Claire tries to backtrack to where she was before, trying to find her way back to that initial book that had fallen by the squashy armchairs.
Following the stream of pages it doesn't take Claire long to return to where she started and just as suddenly as the onslaught of paper began, so too does it stop and once again the library of books is quiet save for the sound of Claire's breath. Where there was a hallway ahead of Claire before there is now a bookcase. So too are there bookcases to the left and right. The original leatherbound book lies before Claire. "Why couldn't I live?" It asks. The voice is soft, mournful. A faint flutter of pages sounds as the book turns again. The final avenue of escape appears to be cut off also, another bookshelf having materialised in such a way that Claire shares a small, square room with the book. The pages rustle a little more intensely and after a moment the various pieces of paper float up from inside the book to a ghostly figure made of pages, her skin looking to be paper mache but the text far too pristine for that. The book continues to turn it's pages beneath the new person floating a couple inches above it, new diary exerpts writing themselves one by one but with no voice to narrate. "I did everything right." The paper woman says, neat, horn rimmed glasses of paper balanced on it's nose as it looks at Claire solemnly.
"Maybe not everything..." It acquieses. "But I tried to be good. To myself and to my friends."
Despite the initial fear and creepiness of the situation as a while, the plea catches Claire off-guard and the uncertainty and fear melt away amid the sincerity of the moment. Seating herself in front of the book, she watched and listens for a time, before finally saying, "Doing everything right is never a guarantee of a good life or a good outcome. You tried, I am sure." Leaning forward a little bit, Claire' voice lowers and her tone shifts conspiratorially as if she is giving away a secret, "I tried as well." Continuing on a little louder, she relays, "But what order we make of our lives can always be upended by the chaos surrounding us. Things out of your hands. Politics. Money.. Cancer." She lingers on that last word, before saying, "Some things are out of our hands."
A timid smile crosses the paper woman's face, each of her movements causing a faint rustling punctuated occasionally by the swish of a page turning in the book beneath her, a book that with each page turned gets nearer and nearer to it's end. "You're right, and I've made a fool of myself." The dead woman agrees with a sigh, adjusting the neck of an origami approximation of a turtleneck sweater wrapped about her form. The bespectacled eyes look about the store and she looks to be pleasantly surprised. "This is the Black Rose Book Store no? I loved this place." Her warm voice affirms, before a sigh follows, the woman again looking crestfallen and removing her glasses to clean them off against her jumper. There's no lense in her glasses of course, but paper also doesn't usually become people so norms are thrown out the window. "I really let Jenni down... Going ahead and dying like that. They took me out of town for treatment you know? No clinic in town on my insurance plan. I never saw her again before I went."
The ghost cracks a whisper of a smile again. "She loved birds that woman."
leans back against one of the bookshelves, idly putting one of her sliced fingers in her mouth leaving down of the oozing blood off with her tongue as she just listens for a while, as she listens to this spirit bare her literal soul. It should be disconcerting, but it wasn't a situation completely out of her wheelhouse. Claire had clearly dealt with the supernatural before, though not in this place. Looking around, Claire remarks, "It is a good little shop. I've spent much of my first day here reading." She pauses and lets the spirit continues before saying, "Ehhh. I would not burden yourself with guilt over dying. In my experience, people tend to dwell on how they treated the dead rather than vice versa. At least with loved ones, and it sounds like you two had something special going on from what I've gathered." Sucking on her teeth for a moment, Claire remarks, "You seem a good writer. Give me a note and tell me where to find her and maybe I can.. pass the message along."
The figure takes a knee before Claire's seated form, bring herself level with the blood consuming woman and eying the act with idle curiosity. She looks about to ask something, then perhaps considers that she is dead and again, norms are out the window. "Not a note." She considers, lips pursing and brows furrowing as thought is given to what she could do instead. A hand reaches out and puts a finger on one of the books on the shelf. "This one..." She says, her index finger rested on a book titled 'Amazing birds: A treasury of facts and triva about the avian world. "I don't want to creep her out with some eerie message from beyond the grave, but if I can make her life a bit better I think I can sleep easy." She looks to Claire and asks. "Do you think you could take a page from this every now and then and make an origami swan? Jenni works here... Just leave it on the counter for her to find... She won't know it's from me but I..." She shrugs. "Better she move on with her life. I'm dead now. But this might brighten her day."
Claire cracks a little smile at the request and says, "Well I can tell you didn't let her down in the slightest. Here you are well past your expiration date and you are still looking out for her mental health and trying to figure out the path that is most likely to ease her worries." Flashing the spirit a little wink, Claire says, "Very well. I think I can do as you ask, though I may need to practice the swans. I have not made any of those since I was a child. Easy to pick up though. I will do as you ask and I hope that the effort brings you and her a little comfort."
With that the ghost sighs contentment, her index finger drawing back on the spine of the indicated book until it is most of the way out then... THUMP, her diary comes to a close. It's as though Claire had blinked and arrived in a different place. The diary is gone and Claire is back in the Black Rose Book Store as it should be, till chiming in the distance and crockery clinking away. One might have thought nothing had happened at all but for the fact a second later a book falls from the shelves. 'Amazing Birds: A treasury of facts and triva about the avian world.'. The ghost is gone, and whether or not Claire chooses to follow up on her promise is up to her, but at the very least she is free of whatever paranormal plane the encounter drew her to.
As the walls open up, Claire finds herself sitting on the floor of the book shop, the severity of the situation having left and Claire briefly wondering if she had not simply had an episode of some kind. The sting of the cuts on her hands are enough to disabuse her of that notion as quickly as the book that thumps down to one side of her, causing her to jump. Still, much of the rest of the avenue is spent relearning origami swans with scrap pieces of paper. They are not especially good, at least for now, but whenever she leaves the shop a page from that book depicting a beautiful Korean Magpie has been removed and folding into a crane, before being left waiting on the front counter.