Encounterlogs
Leos Odd Encounter Sr Savannah
Leo's evening at The Alley's Bar-and-Stage takes an unexpected turn when a ghost starts haunting him, begging him to "see me... help me". Despite the freezing chill and the unsettling apparition, Leo tries to leave, but the persistent spirit won't leave him alone. It's only when Leo agrees to help that the ghost reveals her old home, a run-down cabin deep in the forest. Leo finds the decrepit house and upon inspection discovers evidence of murder. The ghost implores him to check beneath the blood-stained floorboards, hinting at a hidden clue that could lead to solving her murder.
Meanwhile, Autumn encounters a mysterious young girl named Sophie in her kitchen, who believes her deceased mother's ghost has led her there. Despite Autumn's skepticism about ghosts, Sophie is convinced her mother's spirit is trying to communicate with her. She begs Autumn to let her perform a ritual, learned from an "expert," to make her mother's ghost visible. Autumn cautions Sophie about the risks of talking about ghosts in public but eventually relents and allows Sophie to proceed with her plan. Sophie, filled with hope, unfolds a crumpled sheet of paper with the instructions for the ritual, convinced that she can bring proof of her mother's presence to her father, and reassuring Autumn of her research and safety.
(Leo's odd encounter(SRSavannah):SRSavannah)
[Sat Jan 13 2024]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target is contacted by a ghost who is desperate for help. The ghost can't move on until its murder is solved and the murderer brought to justice. The target and their allies must unravel the clues the ghost can provide, investigate the supposed crime scene, and bring the murderer to justice.)
As Leo enjoys their drink at the bar, it seems like the temperature within the establishment begins to chill, perhaps someone opened the door and left it open for too long, but that does not seem to be the case. Everyone might be paranoid after the recent bird problem, and so that chill seems to permeate the air around Leo, to the point his breath slowly shows when he exhales.
Leo's breath frosts up. Looking down, he sighs, teeth chattering. "Someone turn up the heater!" He hollers grouchily, shifting his ass on his stool in order to warm up.
That drink that Leo might have in his hand seems to shimmer slightly, a little bit of frost showing around the edge of the glass where liquid connects to it. There is a reflection there, looking almost like a visage and then a soft whisper from somewhere around the man is spoken, "See... me... see... me..." The words come out soft, almost like they are coming from his drink itself. The other people around him don't seem to react, and then someone calls out in response to his request, "Damn thing is high already! These old buildings don't hold the heat right!"
Leo's face blanches. "God this town is full of freaks." Says he as looks into the glass. He slams the glass down, starting to get up. Unhurriedly walk out the door in an effort to avoid further entanglement with anymore ghosts.
The town is definitely full of freaks, and Leo is surrounded by them. Supernatural beings, ghosts, vampires, whatever else might mess with someone's sense of normalcy. The glass is slammed down and the man begins to step outside and into the cold, and it is chilly outside at least, the sun starting to set in the distance, that time where the temperature begins to drop. Out of the corner of Leo's eye there are little glimpses of that visage still, on the reflection of a car window, on the shadow being cast by a lamp-post and the sun in the distance and a soft voice, echoing out, "See me... help me?"
"God... fucking... fuck.. fuck.." Leo hisses as he sees the ghost outside. Then in a car window. And another. And another. And another. FInally, he says, "Fucking christ, the fuck do you want?" WHen he notices the ghost in the rearview window of his truck.
Those words coming from Leo do not seem to deter that spirit following him through reflections on various surfaces and soon, one of those reflections presses outwards and the visage of a woman begins to take more form. The tone in the voice that whispers to him seems more feminine as well, disembodied, a hint of desperation there, "Dead... dead... dead... murder... struck... forgetting?" The words are coming on stronger now though, as if it is taking time for the spirit to actually begin communicating properly and more stream forth in that whispered, disembodied tone, "Find me... report me? Please?"
"Uuuugh... fine..." Leo growls, irritably. "Where... is... your house? Trust me. I'm onto something here, just work with me."
This spirit takes some time to get an image projected now, something glinting off the edge of Leo's mind before the words form and there are words being spoken once more. The image of the forest, a small cabin, rustic and beautiful once, now, run-down and ruined. The forest has reclaimed it. The address is given, somewhere in the forest near the southern part of Haven, "The trees were so beautiful..."
"Alright..." Leo sighs, in exasperation. He gets into the truck, driving south. Going around the forest until he finds something matching the description. Upon finding the place- if he finds such a place- the man would walk up to the door and try it. If he can't access the door- he'd kick it. If he can't kick it open- he'd grab his woodcutter's acks, and heeeeeeere's johnnny it.
It seems like perhaps nobody has lived here for quite a while, but it does require a good old-fashioned kick to open. The door crumbles inwards, having rotted at the core after years of neglect and when it swings open, the interior of the cabin is in disarray. There is a tree growing up from the floorboards and through the rooftop now, furniture long since ruined and weathered, an animal scurries off into the distance probably having made their home here. There is another room near the back of the cabin that still has a partially closed door, and the room seems in tact as the whispered voice says to Leo, "Happy life... trouble came in the night..."
Leo takes a look around, gathering as much information as he can. Tries to notice if there was a struggle, or anything like that. A journal... anything of interest.
The door to the other room is able to be pushed open, and it smells in there. The smell of old blood, long since dried and left behind, but there was a struggle. It is hard to tell exactly what happened here but there is a splatter against one side of the wall, long-stained and dried with more pooled on the floor. Perhaps nobody came to investigate this at all, because the room seems to have been left in this exact state with no markings of anyone having been here for a long, long while. The whispered voice says to Leo now, somewhere behind him, "Check... check underneath the ... the blood." The floorboards, perhaps?
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Lying on her bed, Autumn is resting and texting on her phone. She is still healing from the relentless Corvid-19 attacks the previous night, and the mini marks on her skin are slowly fading away as she taps the screen of her device with one finger.
It's a soft sound, at first. Even to keen ears -- just a delicate pattering or light thumping from somewhere beneath the bedroom in the lighthouse. A bird's gotten in, it would be easy to think. Maybe a corvid straggler, lost from its departing flock. Or some other kind of small animal taking refuge from the bitter cold. But then another sound can be heard. Softer yet, muffled by distance and the long curving stairs. Unmistakeable, though, for those sensitive enough to hear it. A voice. Light and high-pitched and tentative.
"Hello?"
A long pause. A shuffling. "...Mom?"
Autumn quickly sits up and, putting her sneakers on, she gets off the bed and to her feet. She keeps her phone in hand as she walks out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway, the dusky person peeks her head out to find the voice's owner.
There, in the kitchen. A young girl, no older than twelve. Probably even a little younger, but she's one of those tall, lanky girls. Her dark brown hair is tied in a messy braid that tumbles down the side of her shoulder, tied so loosely it's about to fall apart. She's got round tortoiseshell glasses on, and through those fogged lenses she stares emptily and forlornly at nothing. Her clothes, while warm-looking, are both frosty and sandy. She's been outside for a while, and she smells...briny. She takes a step back on her sneakers. She doesn't hear Autumn just yet. Her voice gets quieter with the next iteration of the word: "Mom?"
"Hello," Autumn speaks in her husky contralto, leaning against the doorway as she faces the girl. "I do not know where your mother is. Are you lost, young one?" She doesn't move from her spot, glancing at her phone and looking back at the child.
A sharp, high-pitched gasp. The girl stops in her half-step back and swivels around on her dirty sneakers to face Autumn. Her glasses are still quite fogged from the drastic temperature difference between outside and inside, but through the haze she stares wide-eyed at Autumn. "Sorry!" she says, a bit more shrilly than she means it to come out. She's scared to be discovered in someone's house. "Sorry," she says, more hushed, contrite. She grimaces, hard. Her eyes don't leave Autumn. "I followed my mom in here. She was here! But I think she's gone now. I'll go...I'll go. Sorry." Flustered, she squeezes at her braid like a stress toy. Maybe that's how it got so messy and half-loose. A nervous habit.
The girl tries to make it toward the exit now, even if she has to duck and brush past Autumn -- but she may never discover if Autumn would have stopped her or not, becuase she stops herself. Hesitates. Considers, then says, in a very soft, tentative voice, as if saying it meekly might make it more palatable: "Lady...do you believe in ghosts?"
"Well, umm..." Autumn purses her lips, examining the girl to see if she has an faint aura on her. "Wait, child," she says, raising one hand in a stop gesture towards the girl. "You said your mom came here, but I did not see or hear any sign of her before you came."
"Well, umm..." Autumn purses her lips, examining the girl to see if she has an faint aura on her. "Wait, child," she says, raising one hand in a stop gesture towards the girl. "You said your mom came here, but I did not see or hear any sign of her before you came." (re)
"Yeah..." The girl hesitates. She looks at Autumn again, sizing her up for something. The fog on her glasses is starting to clear. She continues to squeeze down the length of her braid, taking comfort in the anxious gesture. "Well, I found her on the beach," she confides in a near-whisper. "She came in here, though. It's not the first time I've seen her go in here. She wants to show me something, but she always disappears." Her voice lowers further.
"She's a ghost. And I think...one day I'll be able to prove it to my dad. That she's still here. I know it sounds crazy, ma'am, but my dad and I come to this town to visit her grave every January, and..." She catches herself. She's talking too much, and she knows she's not even supposed to be here. "I'm sorry for coming in," she mutters. "I won't do it again, but...maybe, maybe..." She looks pleadingly. "Maybe we could look for her, and find some proof we can bring to my dad."
"...So your mom is dead?" Autumn says, frowning at the girl while she slips her phone away. "So is mine. But ghosts aren't really real." She crouches down to be at the girl's height. "And you shouldn't say anything like that to anyone or out loud in public. Otherwise, you will risk putting yourself and other people, even your dad, in serious danger."
Another iteration of "yeah..." The young girl laughs nervously. She knows it sounds silly. She lets go of her braid and wrings her hands instead. "I know they're not supposed to be real, but...I see her a lot. It can't just be my imagination. It only happens here, and...she always takes me to this place." She listens to the second part of what Autumn has to say, but this only seems to confuse her. Her dark brows form a crease in her youthful skin, right above the nose bridge of her glasses. "What? Lots of people believe in ghosts," she points out. "Maybe not...most people, but I never heard of anyone getting in trouble for it." She sighs, casting a yearning glance over at the spot where she'd been looking before. "I'll go, but please, please, lady, just let me try one thing. And then I'll never bother you again, I promise."
Her voice croaks a little. "Since she died...my dad doesn't love me anymore. But if she's still here...maybe he can be happy again. And if he can be happy, maybe he can love me." She turns away fully, towards that point. Just in front of the kitchen counter. Not anything special there. "If you'd just let me try one thing, I promise it won't take long at all, and then we can know for sure if ghosts are real or not..."
"Promise me you will keep ghosts secret, okay?" Autumn tells the girl, watching her turn to the counter. "If it's doing something dangerously stupid, then you shouldn't try it. You are still young and have lots of things to learn." She then slowly grins while the kid is not looking.
"Wait, what?" The crease only grows deeper, etching that line into the girl's forehead. She whips her head around to look back at Autumn, though not in time to see her smiling. But it would have been all right, most likely, for the girl herself smiles, her expression clearing. It's a conspiratorial smile, the sharing of a secret.
Notably, she makes no promises.
The girl is hushed when she says, "So you -do- believe in them. I knew it wasn't just me!" She turns with renewed vigor to peer once more at the spot, squinting through her glasses. They magnify her brown eyes in a most endearing way.
"I promise it isn't stupid," she says, cheered, lifted from the doldrums. "I just think I know something to say that might make her come out." She doesn't say what she'll do after that. It's possible she has a plan. It's just as possible that she doesn't.
"You sure?" Autumn asks, keeping her eyes on the girl. "Because last thing I need is child going insane and being sent to clinic or worse." She then moves away from the doorway and steps forward. "And what plan do you have?" Autumn inquires while she crosses her arms.
"It's okay. Trust me, I've been doing a -lot- of research. It's going to be super simple and safe. I mean, look. If she's in here already, she should go visible. But she's already here. So it's not like it's any more dangerous. And if she's not here, nothing will happen!" Smiling winningly, the youngster pulls around her brown corduroy bag. It wasn't obvious she had one before, concealed under her rugged winter coat. "Oh! By the way, I'm Sophie." She breezes by introductions. She's excited.
"Last time I was here, I talked to an -expert- about ghosts," she enthuses. "He told me all about how to make one go visible if it's hiding. It's just a bunch of words you read from a piece of paper, so it's nothing dangerous or stupid or makes you go insane." She sounds awfully confident about that. Looks like she doesn't know the power of words just yet.
From that bag of hers she unfolds a partially crumpled sheet of paper. "But you have to say them just right," she says earnestly. "And by the way, I'm way smarter than people think, so...don't worry. 'Cause he wanted me to say them right there to test if I could do it right, but I said no way, 'cause we were at the graveyard, and I sure didn't want all the ghosts to go visible!" She laughs, looking at the paper in her hands. Uncrinkling it fully, holding it taught. "But I know he knew what he was talking about, because he showed me a ghost in a jar, and it was -crazy-, like seriously -crazy.-"
Meanwhile, Autumn encounters a mysterious young girl named Sophie in her kitchen, who believes her deceased mother's ghost has led her there. Despite Autumn's skepticism about ghosts, Sophie is convinced her mother's spirit is trying to communicate with her. She begs Autumn to let her perform a ritual, learned from an "expert," to make her mother's ghost visible. Autumn cautions Sophie about the risks of talking about ghosts in public but eventually relents and allows Sophie to proceed with her plan. Sophie, filled with hope, unfolds a crumpled sheet of paper with the instructions for the ritual, convinced that she can bring proof of her mother's presence to her father, and reassuring Autumn of her research and safety.
(Leo's odd encounter(SRSavannah):SRSavannah)
[Sat Jan 13 2024]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target is contacted by a ghost who is desperate for help. The ghost can't move on until its murder is solved and the murderer brought to justice. The target and their allies must unravel the clues the ghost can provide, investigate the supposed crime scene, and bring the murderer to justice.)
As Leo enjoys their drink at the bar, it seems like the temperature within the establishment begins to chill, perhaps someone opened the door and left it open for too long, but that does not seem to be the case. Everyone might be paranoid after the recent bird problem, and so that chill seems to permeate the air around Leo, to the point his breath slowly shows when he exhales.
Leo's breath frosts up. Looking down, he sighs, teeth chattering. "Someone turn up the heater!" He hollers grouchily, shifting his ass on his stool in order to warm up.
That drink that Leo might have in his hand seems to shimmer slightly, a little bit of frost showing around the edge of the glass where liquid connects to it. There is a reflection there, looking almost like a visage and then a soft whisper from somewhere around the man is spoken, "See... me... see... me..." The words come out soft, almost like they are coming from his drink itself. The other people around him don't seem to react, and then someone calls out in response to his request, "Damn thing is high already! These old buildings don't hold the heat right!"
Leo's face blanches. "God this town is full of freaks." Says he as looks into the glass. He slams the glass down, starting to get up. Unhurriedly walk out the door in an effort to avoid further entanglement with anymore ghosts.
The town is definitely full of freaks, and Leo is surrounded by them. Supernatural beings, ghosts, vampires, whatever else might mess with someone's sense of normalcy. The glass is slammed down and the man begins to step outside and into the cold, and it is chilly outside at least, the sun starting to set in the distance, that time where the temperature begins to drop. Out of the corner of Leo's eye there are little glimpses of that visage still, on the reflection of a car window, on the shadow being cast by a lamp-post and the sun in the distance and a soft voice, echoing out, "See me... help me?"
"God... fucking... fuck.. fuck.." Leo hisses as he sees the ghost outside. Then in a car window. And another. And another. And another. FInally, he says, "Fucking christ, the fuck do you want?" WHen he notices the ghost in the rearview window of his truck.
Those words coming from Leo do not seem to deter that spirit following him through reflections on various surfaces and soon, one of those reflections presses outwards and the visage of a woman begins to take more form. The tone in the voice that whispers to him seems more feminine as well, disembodied, a hint of desperation there, "Dead... dead... dead... murder... struck... forgetting?" The words are coming on stronger now though, as if it is taking time for the spirit to actually begin communicating properly and more stream forth in that whispered, disembodied tone, "Find me... report me? Please?"
"Uuuugh... fine..." Leo growls, irritably. "Where... is... your house? Trust me. I'm onto something here, just work with me."
This spirit takes some time to get an image projected now, something glinting off the edge of Leo's mind before the words form and there are words being spoken once more. The image of the forest, a small cabin, rustic and beautiful once, now, run-down and ruined. The forest has reclaimed it. The address is given, somewhere in the forest near the southern part of Haven, "The trees were so beautiful..."
"Alright..." Leo sighs, in exasperation. He gets into the truck, driving south. Going around the forest until he finds something matching the description. Upon finding the place- if he finds such a place- the man would walk up to the door and try it. If he can't access the door- he'd kick it. If he can't kick it open- he'd grab his woodcutter's acks, and heeeeeeere's johnnny it.
It seems like perhaps nobody has lived here for quite a while, but it does require a good old-fashioned kick to open. The door crumbles inwards, having rotted at the core after years of neglect and when it swings open, the interior of the cabin is in disarray. There is a tree growing up from the floorboards and through the rooftop now, furniture long since ruined and weathered, an animal scurries off into the distance probably having made their home here. There is another room near the back of the cabin that still has a partially closed door, and the room seems in tact as the whispered voice says to Leo, "Happy life... trouble came in the night..."
Leo takes a look around, gathering as much information as he can. Tries to notice if there was a struggle, or anything like that. A journal... anything of interest.
The door to the other room is able to be pushed open, and it smells in there. The smell of old blood, long since dried and left behind, but there was a struggle. It is hard to tell exactly what happened here but there is a splatter against one side of the wall, long-stained and dried with more pooled on the floor. Perhaps nobody came to investigate this at all, because the room seems to have been left in this exact state with no markings of anyone having been here for a long, long while. The whispered voice says to Leo now, somewhere behind him, "Check... check underneath the ... the blood." The floorboards, perhaps?
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Lying on her bed, Autumn is resting and texting on her phone. She is still healing from the relentless Corvid-19 attacks the previous night, and the mini marks on her skin are slowly fading away as she taps the screen of her device with one finger.
It's a soft sound, at first. Even to keen ears -- just a delicate pattering or light thumping from somewhere beneath the bedroom in the lighthouse. A bird's gotten in, it would be easy to think. Maybe a corvid straggler, lost from its departing flock. Or some other kind of small animal taking refuge from the bitter cold. But then another sound can be heard. Softer yet, muffled by distance and the long curving stairs. Unmistakeable, though, for those sensitive enough to hear it. A voice. Light and high-pitched and tentative.
"Hello?"
A long pause. A shuffling. "...Mom?"
Autumn quickly sits up and, putting her sneakers on, she gets off the bed and to her feet. She keeps her phone in hand as she walks out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway, the dusky person peeks her head out to find the voice's owner.
There, in the kitchen. A young girl, no older than twelve. Probably even a little younger, but she's one of those tall, lanky girls. Her dark brown hair is tied in a messy braid that tumbles down the side of her shoulder, tied so loosely it's about to fall apart. She's got round tortoiseshell glasses on, and through those fogged lenses she stares emptily and forlornly at nothing. Her clothes, while warm-looking, are both frosty and sandy. She's been outside for a while, and she smells...briny. She takes a step back on her sneakers. She doesn't hear Autumn just yet. Her voice gets quieter with the next iteration of the word: "Mom?"
"Hello," Autumn speaks in her husky contralto, leaning against the doorway as she faces the girl. "I do not know where your mother is. Are you lost, young one?" She doesn't move from her spot, glancing at her phone and looking back at the child.
A sharp, high-pitched gasp. The girl stops in her half-step back and swivels around on her dirty sneakers to face Autumn. Her glasses are still quite fogged from the drastic temperature difference between outside and inside, but through the haze she stares wide-eyed at Autumn. "Sorry!" she says, a bit more shrilly than she means it to come out. She's scared to be discovered in someone's house. "Sorry," she says, more hushed, contrite. She grimaces, hard. Her eyes don't leave Autumn. "I followed my mom in here. She was here! But I think she's gone now. I'll go...I'll go. Sorry." Flustered, she squeezes at her braid like a stress toy. Maybe that's how it got so messy and half-loose. A nervous habit.
The girl tries to make it toward the exit now, even if she has to duck and brush past Autumn -- but she may never discover if Autumn would have stopped her or not, becuase she stops herself. Hesitates. Considers, then says, in a very soft, tentative voice, as if saying it meekly might make it more palatable: "Lady...do you believe in ghosts?"
"Well, umm..." Autumn purses her lips, examining the girl to see if she has an faint aura on her. "Wait, child," she says, raising one hand in a stop gesture towards the girl. "You said your mom came here, but I did not see or hear any sign of her before you came."
"Well, umm..." Autumn purses her lips, examining the girl to see if she has an faint aura on her. "Wait, child," she says, raising one hand in a stop gesture towards the girl. "You said your mom came here, but I did not see or hear any sign of her before you came." (re)
"Yeah..." The girl hesitates. She looks at Autumn again, sizing her up for something. The fog on her glasses is starting to clear. She continues to squeeze down the length of her braid, taking comfort in the anxious gesture. "Well, I found her on the beach," she confides in a near-whisper. "She came in here, though. It's not the first time I've seen her go in here. She wants to show me something, but she always disappears." Her voice lowers further.
"She's a ghost. And I think...one day I'll be able to prove it to my dad. That she's still here. I know it sounds crazy, ma'am, but my dad and I come to this town to visit her grave every January, and..." She catches herself. She's talking too much, and she knows she's not even supposed to be here. "I'm sorry for coming in," she mutters. "I won't do it again, but...maybe, maybe..." She looks pleadingly. "Maybe we could look for her, and find some proof we can bring to my dad."
"...So your mom is dead?" Autumn says, frowning at the girl while she slips her phone away. "So is mine. But ghosts aren't really real." She crouches down to be at the girl's height. "And you shouldn't say anything like that to anyone or out loud in public. Otherwise, you will risk putting yourself and other people, even your dad, in serious danger."
Another iteration of "yeah..." The young girl laughs nervously. She knows it sounds silly. She lets go of her braid and wrings her hands instead. "I know they're not supposed to be real, but...I see her a lot. It can't just be my imagination. It only happens here, and...she always takes me to this place." She listens to the second part of what Autumn has to say, but this only seems to confuse her. Her dark brows form a crease in her youthful skin, right above the nose bridge of her glasses. "What? Lots of people believe in ghosts," she points out. "Maybe not...most people, but I never heard of anyone getting in trouble for it." She sighs, casting a yearning glance over at the spot where she'd been looking before. "I'll go, but please, please, lady, just let me try one thing. And then I'll never bother you again, I promise."
Her voice croaks a little. "Since she died...my dad doesn't love me anymore. But if she's still here...maybe he can be happy again. And if he can be happy, maybe he can love me." She turns away fully, towards that point. Just in front of the kitchen counter. Not anything special there. "If you'd just let me try one thing, I promise it won't take long at all, and then we can know for sure if ghosts are real or not..."
"Promise me you will keep ghosts secret, okay?" Autumn tells the girl, watching her turn to the counter. "If it's doing something dangerously stupid, then you shouldn't try it. You are still young and have lots of things to learn." She then slowly grins while the kid is not looking.
"Wait, what?" The crease only grows deeper, etching that line into the girl's forehead. She whips her head around to look back at Autumn, though not in time to see her smiling. But it would have been all right, most likely, for the girl herself smiles, her expression clearing. It's a conspiratorial smile, the sharing of a secret.
Notably, she makes no promises.
The girl is hushed when she says, "So you -do- believe in them. I knew it wasn't just me!" She turns with renewed vigor to peer once more at the spot, squinting through her glasses. They magnify her brown eyes in a most endearing way.
"I promise it isn't stupid," she says, cheered, lifted from the doldrums. "I just think I know something to say that might make her come out." She doesn't say what she'll do after that. It's possible she has a plan. It's just as possible that she doesn't.
"You sure?" Autumn asks, keeping her eyes on the girl. "Because last thing I need is child going insane and being sent to clinic or worse." She then moves away from the doorway and steps forward. "And what plan do you have?" Autumn inquires while she crosses her arms.
"It's okay. Trust me, I've been doing a -lot- of research. It's going to be super simple and safe. I mean, look. If she's in here already, she should go visible. But she's already here. So it's not like it's any more dangerous. And if she's not here, nothing will happen!" Smiling winningly, the youngster pulls around her brown corduroy bag. It wasn't obvious she had one before, concealed under her rugged winter coat. "Oh! By the way, I'm Sophie." She breezes by introductions. She's excited.
"Last time I was here, I talked to an -expert- about ghosts," she enthuses. "He told me all about how to make one go visible if it's hiding. It's just a bunch of words you read from a piece of paper, so it's nothing dangerous or stupid or makes you go insane." She sounds awfully confident about that. Looks like she doesn't know the power of words just yet.
From that bag of hers she unfolds a partially crumpled sheet of paper. "But you have to say them just right," she says earnestly. "And by the way, I'm way smarter than people think, so...don't worry. 'Cause he wanted me to say them right there to test if I could do it right, but I said no way, 'cause we were at the graveyard, and I sure didn't want all the ghosts to go visible!" She laughs, looking at the paper in her hands. Uncrinkling it fully, holding it taught. "But I know he knew what he was talking about, because he showed me a ghost in a jar, and it was -crazy-, like seriously -crazy.-"