Encounterlogs
Vincents Odd Encounter Sr Lauren 240518
Vincent's routine journey through the Institute's bustling Union plaza takes an unexpected turn when he encounters a mysterious and seemingly mischievous presence, which starts with the minor annoyance of being hit with a pebble. Investigating the source leads him to a child hiding behind a tree, engaged in playful, albeit odd, antics which include laying traps to trip him. The encounter quickly escalates from minor irritation to a chilling revelation as Vincent realizes the child, referring to him as "Daddy" and expressing a desire to play hide-and-seek, is actually a ghost. The scene is both eerie and poignant, as Vincent is confronted by the ghost's disheveled appearance and a head injury that starkly indicates her death. Despite his initial shock and reluctance, Vincent plays along, agreeing to the ghost's request to play in a bid to calm her.
As the ghost child, who identifies herself as Cassie, insists on playing by the rules she has set, Vincent adopts a more parental approach, gently scolding her for raising her voice and outlining conditions for their game of hide-and-seek. His willingness to engage with Cassie with kindness and patience, despite the bizarre and unsettling circumstances, leads to an unfolding moment of eerie calm. Vincent's attempt to navigate this haunting interaction is cut short when Cassie's countdown to start their game abruptly ends, leaving behind a gust of wind and silence, with a faded headstone marking a grave as the only evidence of the ghost child's presence. This unexpected conclusion leaves Vincent alone to contemplate the surreal and poignant encounter with a spirit clinging to moments of play and parental affection beyond the grave.
(Vincent's odd encounter(SRLauren):SRLauren)
[Fri May 17 2024]
In the reception lobby
The Union serves as the gateway to the rest of the campus and facilities
therein. Less a building and more the seamless fusion of the two adjacent
structures, the space is styled as a plaza with office space lining both
sides.
The plaza provides space for administrative offices and important communal
areas such as the lunch room, bookstore, and library. It's also home to the
Haven Sheriff's Department, the deputies of which assist with school security
and community outreach when their other duties permit.
Residents otherwise unassociated with the Institute come and go through the
Union, unmolested by security or staff, many on the way to the clinic or
library.
It is afternoon, about 72F(22C) degrees,
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Vincent yawns as he stretches his arms upwards in the air, after having just woken up and just starting his day. "Ugh.. having to deal with that ghost yesterday was a pain in the rear.. didn't even get that drink." The blonde teen complains, surely that just a one time occurrence what are the chances of that happening again as Vincent makes his way towards the road humming softly. "I need some tea."
The hustle and bustle of the Institute is at its peak this Friday afternoon, students, teachers, clinical and forensic staff passing to and from the reception. The lobby breathes with activity, academia and pragmatism interweaving to create a buzz all around; Vincent, however, has his heart set on different destinations than the pursuit of the scholastic world. There's quite a few places to have tea this close to campus - the Black Rose, the little cafe in the Pigment and Paper studio, even Hogar del Mundo, if he asks nicely enough for items that aren't quite on the menu yet would be accommodated for him.
It's only a few steps out of the crowded lobby and onto the path cutting through Warden's Wood, though, that there's a snapping sound behind him. Before Vincent can turn to look, even if he chooses to do such a thing, there's a sudden, dull pain at the back of his thigh and a clattering of a pebble upon the ground where it falls after hitting him. There's nothing and nobody behind him, unless someone was nimble enough to throw a stone at him and hide in the time it takes him to look.
And then, a soft giggle, from behind a tree just off the road, childish - maybe girlish? It's hard to tell.
There is a slight yelp from the blonde perhaps from the pain or from the much larger surprise of being hit by a pebble as he turns with cold blue eyes scanning back and forth of his surroundings before then locking them towards that tree with squinted eyes as as he pads his clothing making a slight low 'tsking' noise as if that pebble could have ruined his clothing. "What in the- I don't have time for this nonsense." Vincent grumbles irritably, as he makes his way towards the tree hands clenching with a foul mood on his face over a tossed pebble.
If only nonsense was polite enough to come back another day when Vincent has more time for it. It's not, unfortunately, and so he'll simply have to deal with it today.
Dealing with it today comes in the form of finding a small branch fallen off a tree right in his path as he takes a step closer to the tree, held in mid-air a couple of inches above the ground as though for the sole purpose of tripping him and sending him sprawling to the ground if he doesn't watch his step closely enough.
There's another giggle sounding from behind that same tree as whoever it is waits for him to step into - or avoid, if his reflexes are up to the job - the masterfully laid trap of one single twig, not too worried about being found, it would seem, nor the consequences that would follow it.
If he squints, Vincent may be able to make out the briefest glimpses of dark, matted hair behind there, only for a split second before whoever it is goes into hiding again, waiting for him to find them. There's a muffled noise, as though they're barely managing to restrain some more giggles, like a child holding their hands to their face to stop from being too loud, yet unable to hold back joyful mirth.
Seemly being in such being in a infuriated mood does Vincent favors with eyes like sneak slits, and with furrowed brows seemly focused on the tree as he screeches his neck to the side to seemly aiming to walk around the tree and try to figure out who is around it... as such not noticing that branch as he moves forward with a large stride and trips letting out another high pitched yelp while barley placing his hands forward to protect his face and hair from meeting face first on the ground as he falls. "You tiny defecation." Vincent says in a low grumble as he picks himself up not even cleaning himself off as he starts the chase around the tree, to attempt to try to figure out who to blame.
The muffled giggles explode into straight-up laughter, wild and free and uncontrolled as Vincent goes tripping to the ground, and his growled-out insult only serves to amplify it further. They're laughing so much so that he can hear the hitching of the child's - it has to be a child - voice as they struggle to catch their breath, no further attempts made at hiding themself while Vincent chases them down.
It's easy to find the child once Vincent rounds the tree - hidden behind it, half-engulfed by shrubbery, is a small, school-aged defecation as he'd put it, black-haired and blue-eyed, doubled over in laughter that echoes around the area, showing no signs of diminishing in the face of Vincent's fury. If he's got any sense for the ages of childen, he'd be able to tell they're around six or so years old, though it's hard to tell the gender with the way they're dressed in what can only be described as rags, their hair matted and stuck to their scalp with something red and black and-...
Oh, that's most certainly brain matter decorating their face and their clothes, originating from the dent in their skull that exposes more of the insides of the head than anyone ought to see. Their eyes are bloodshot, and dried streaks of something red mar their bruised cheeks - the same chubby cheeks that turn up into a bright, bright smile at Vincent's arrival.
"Daddy! You found me!" They cheer, another giggle escaping them as they look up at him with those guileless, bloodshot, innocent, yet so very, very disturbingly wide eyes, "Now you have to hide so I can find you! But you can't leave the woods, okay? That's the rules!"
Letting out a slight exhale of breath as Vincent backs up slightly moving away; one foot away as he lays wide eyes upon the.. who knows what as his face changes from one of mad furry to one of shock and horror as gazes at them with a slightly open mouth as if he was going to say something before laying his eyes on the prankster. Looking slightly away his face is still one of wide-eyed confusion, slight dismay, horror, and more as the blonde closes his mouth and swallows down seemly to collect himself as he opens his mouth.. closes it.. opens.. closes.. then opens at last to speak. "You-What your name.. sweetheart?" Vincent asks, seemly not to be the best at dealing with kids with the awkward question... or might it have to do with the appearance of the child. "W-Wait am not your father." He seemly adds on in response to the child's words.
The giggling stops. Wide, watery blue eyes are blinked up at Vincent - they do look a little like his own, actually. They could probably pass as siblings at best if one looked past the everything else like the drastically different hair color and the state of being in possession of a flesh-and-blood body. They're opaque, almost see-through - he can see parts of the bush behind them. Maybe he can even reach his hand through them, if he's brave enough to try.
"Don't be silly, daddy!" They're incapable of speaking in a normal volume, like most children - too loud, though their voice seems to echo, almost, off the trees, bouncing back to his ears in an almost ethereal manner. "You know my name, I'm your lil Cassie!" A girl, then. She steps closer to him as he steps away, equidistant despite her much smaller stride. "And you have to /hide/ now! It's your turn!" She pauses then, considering and reconsidering something, and then asks him, "Or... do you not want to play anymore?" That seems to be the conclusion that's been reached here, and she seems devastated, her small little hands curling into fists at her sides. "Why don't you want to play with me anymore?! Is it because I climbed the tree when you told me not to? I just WANT. TO. PLAY, DADDY!"
"PLAY WITH ME!"
Raising his hands up in a surrender-like gesture, Vincent mummers to himself in a muttering tone. "Oh-shit.. another ghost." As the blonde clears his throat glancing around around the area, licking his lips slightly before sucking up a breath and before looking back towards the seemingly quite angered spirit before speaking again. "Yes.. Yes I want to play." He agrees apparently hoping to perhaps to placate as he waves his hands in the air, as he glances away for a moment before looking back at the ghost child. "Now what have I said about raising your voice and yelling wants without asking please?" He then asks, as if playing into the spirits seeing the the blonde as her parental figure. Vincent coughs somewhat placing a hand on his hip as he looks down at them maintaining his ground, as he crosses his arms attempting to act as not mad but disappointed parent.
There had been a wind picking up while the little ghost child yelled out her demands, rustling through the branches and leaves of trees; it quietens abruptly at the first 'Yes', soothing out to the earlier, calmer breeze of the day. The words that leave him after serve to make the child even more docile, the girl shrinking in on herself at the not-mad-but-disappointedness she's faced with. The perfect posture for Vincent to get another good look into the insides of her skull, really. "I'm sorry," comes the quiet little mumble in answer, abashed and ashamed, before she dares another peek up at him. "Can we play, /pleeeeeeeeease/?" The pleading eyes up at him speak quite clearly of her desire for him to start looking for a hiding spot, and she doesn't wait for his answer before declaring, "I'll count to ten!"
Vincent letting out a light sigh as he looks up into the air to mummer again softly to himself. "Vinnie boy.. what have you gotten yourself into.. play hide and seek.. the time to put them to bed at the graveyard." Vincent mummers to himself in a soft tone, before looking back down at the ghost child, his face grimacing slightly at the look of ghost brains before smoothing out and going back into his parental actor role as he speaks again "Ok, but no climbing up any more trees and it's straight to bed after this? Understand?" He 'asks' with that tone of a parent who is /really/ not asking but telling; waiting for the correct response back as he taps his foot on the ground.
"Okay, I'll go to bed after this! One!" She starts before Vincent's even started moving, much less gone out of sight, so he doesn't have a lot of time to spare to hide. She seems delighted, not even put off at the prospect of being put to bed - as long as she gets to play. As long as he's agreed to spending time with her.
"Two!" She turns to face the tree, instead of him.
"Three!" she closes her eyes.
"Four!" Her hands rise up to cover her vision, making sure she can't see Vincent wherever he decides to go to hide.
"Five!" A step is taken forward, closer to the tree.
"Six seven eight!" Is it just him, or is her voice getting fainter and quieter?
"Nine!"
There is no ten. A gust of wind brushes past Vincent, ruffling his hair from its perfectly set style to something approaching messiness. Behind him, the destination of the breeze, is a mound of dirt he may or may not have noticed before: a small grave with a small, cracked headstone, the words too faded to make out.
And then the breeze is gone too, and only stillness remains.
As the ghost child, who identifies herself as Cassie, insists on playing by the rules she has set, Vincent adopts a more parental approach, gently scolding her for raising her voice and outlining conditions for their game of hide-and-seek. His willingness to engage with Cassie with kindness and patience, despite the bizarre and unsettling circumstances, leads to an unfolding moment of eerie calm. Vincent's attempt to navigate this haunting interaction is cut short when Cassie's countdown to start their game abruptly ends, leaving behind a gust of wind and silence, with a faded headstone marking a grave as the only evidence of the ghost child's presence. This unexpected conclusion leaves Vincent alone to contemplate the surreal and poignant encounter with a spirit clinging to moments of play and parental affection beyond the grave.
(Vincent's odd encounter(SRLauren):SRLauren)
[Fri May 17 2024]
In the reception lobby
The Union serves as the gateway to the rest of the campus and facilities
therein. Less a building and more the seamless fusion of the two adjacent
structures, the space is styled as a plaza with office space lining both
sides.
The plaza provides space for administrative offices and important communal
areas such as the lunch room, bookstore, and library. It's also home to the
Haven Sheriff's Department, the deputies of which assist with school security
and community outreach when their other duties permit.
Residents otherwise unassociated with the Institute come and go through the
Union, unmolested by security or staff, many on the way to the clinic or
library.
It is afternoon, about 72F(22C) degrees,
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Vincent yawns as he stretches his arms upwards in the air, after having just woken up and just starting his day. "Ugh.. having to deal with that ghost yesterday was a pain in the rear.. didn't even get that drink." The blonde teen complains, surely that just a one time occurrence what are the chances of that happening again as Vincent makes his way towards the road humming softly. "I need some tea."
The hustle and bustle of the Institute is at its peak this Friday afternoon, students, teachers, clinical and forensic staff passing to and from the reception. The lobby breathes with activity, academia and pragmatism interweaving to create a buzz all around; Vincent, however, has his heart set on different destinations than the pursuit of the scholastic world. There's quite a few places to have tea this close to campus - the Black Rose, the little cafe in the Pigment and Paper studio, even Hogar del Mundo, if he asks nicely enough for items that aren't quite on the menu yet would be accommodated for him.
It's only a few steps out of the crowded lobby and onto the path cutting through Warden's Wood, though, that there's a snapping sound behind him. Before Vincent can turn to look, even if he chooses to do such a thing, there's a sudden, dull pain at the back of his thigh and a clattering of a pebble upon the ground where it falls after hitting him. There's nothing and nobody behind him, unless someone was nimble enough to throw a stone at him and hide in the time it takes him to look.
And then, a soft giggle, from behind a tree just off the road, childish - maybe girlish? It's hard to tell.
There is a slight yelp from the blonde perhaps from the pain or from the much larger surprise of being hit by a pebble as he turns with cold blue eyes scanning back and forth of his surroundings before then locking them towards that tree with squinted eyes as as he pads his clothing making a slight low 'tsking' noise as if that pebble could have ruined his clothing. "What in the- I don't have time for this nonsense." Vincent grumbles irritably, as he makes his way towards the tree hands clenching with a foul mood on his face over a tossed pebble.
If only nonsense was polite enough to come back another day when Vincent has more time for it. It's not, unfortunately, and so he'll simply have to deal with it today.
Dealing with it today comes in the form of finding a small branch fallen off a tree right in his path as he takes a step closer to the tree, held in mid-air a couple of inches above the ground as though for the sole purpose of tripping him and sending him sprawling to the ground if he doesn't watch his step closely enough.
There's another giggle sounding from behind that same tree as whoever it is waits for him to step into - or avoid, if his reflexes are up to the job - the masterfully laid trap of one single twig, not too worried about being found, it would seem, nor the consequences that would follow it.
If he squints, Vincent may be able to make out the briefest glimpses of dark, matted hair behind there, only for a split second before whoever it is goes into hiding again, waiting for him to find them. There's a muffled noise, as though they're barely managing to restrain some more giggles, like a child holding their hands to their face to stop from being too loud, yet unable to hold back joyful mirth.
Seemly being in such being in a infuriated mood does Vincent favors with eyes like sneak slits, and with furrowed brows seemly focused on the tree as he screeches his neck to the side to seemly aiming to walk around the tree and try to figure out who is around it... as such not noticing that branch as he moves forward with a large stride and trips letting out another high pitched yelp while barley placing his hands forward to protect his face and hair from meeting face first on the ground as he falls. "You tiny defecation." Vincent says in a low grumble as he picks himself up not even cleaning himself off as he starts the chase around the tree, to attempt to try to figure out who to blame.
The muffled giggles explode into straight-up laughter, wild and free and uncontrolled as Vincent goes tripping to the ground, and his growled-out insult only serves to amplify it further. They're laughing so much so that he can hear the hitching of the child's - it has to be a child - voice as they struggle to catch their breath, no further attempts made at hiding themself while Vincent chases them down.
It's easy to find the child once Vincent rounds the tree - hidden behind it, half-engulfed by shrubbery, is a small, school-aged defecation as he'd put it, black-haired and blue-eyed, doubled over in laughter that echoes around the area, showing no signs of diminishing in the face of Vincent's fury. If he's got any sense for the ages of childen, he'd be able to tell they're around six or so years old, though it's hard to tell the gender with the way they're dressed in what can only be described as rags, their hair matted and stuck to their scalp with something red and black and-...
Oh, that's most certainly brain matter decorating their face and their clothes, originating from the dent in their skull that exposes more of the insides of the head than anyone ought to see. Their eyes are bloodshot, and dried streaks of something red mar their bruised cheeks - the same chubby cheeks that turn up into a bright, bright smile at Vincent's arrival.
"Daddy! You found me!" They cheer, another giggle escaping them as they look up at him with those guileless, bloodshot, innocent, yet so very, very disturbingly wide eyes, "Now you have to hide so I can find you! But you can't leave the woods, okay? That's the rules!"
Letting out a slight exhale of breath as Vincent backs up slightly moving away; one foot away as he lays wide eyes upon the.. who knows what as his face changes from one of mad furry to one of shock and horror as gazes at them with a slightly open mouth as if he was going to say something before laying his eyes on the prankster. Looking slightly away his face is still one of wide-eyed confusion, slight dismay, horror, and more as the blonde closes his mouth and swallows down seemly to collect himself as he opens his mouth.. closes it.. opens.. closes.. then opens at last to speak. "You-What your name.. sweetheart?" Vincent asks, seemly not to be the best at dealing with kids with the awkward question... or might it have to do with the appearance of the child. "W-Wait am not your father." He seemly adds on in response to the child's words.
The giggling stops. Wide, watery blue eyes are blinked up at Vincent - they do look a little like his own, actually. They could probably pass as siblings at best if one looked past the everything else like the drastically different hair color and the state of being in possession of a flesh-and-blood body. They're opaque, almost see-through - he can see parts of the bush behind them. Maybe he can even reach his hand through them, if he's brave enough to try.
"Don't be silly, daddy!" They're incapable of speaking in a normal volume, like most children - too loud, though their voice seems to echo, almost, off the trees, bouncing back to his ears in an almost ethereal manner. "You know my name, I'm your lil Cassie!" A girl, then. She steps closer to him as he steps away, equidistant despite her much smaller stride. "And you have to /hide/ now! It's your turn!" She pauses then, considering and reconsidering something, and then asks him, "Or... do you not want to play anymore?" That seems to be the conclusion that's been reached here, and she seems devastated, her small little hands curling into fists at her sides. "Why don't you want to play with me anymore?! Is it because I climbed the tree when you told me not to? I just WANT. TO. PLAY, DADDY!"
"PLAY WITH ME!"
Raising his hands up in a surrender-like gesture, Vincent mummers to himself in a muttering tone. "Oh-shit.. another ghost." As the blonde clears his throat glancing around around the area, licking his lips slightly before sucking up a breath and before looking back towards the seemingly quite angered spirit before speaking again. "Yes.. Yes I want to play." He agrees apparently hoping to perhaps to placate as he waves his hands in the air, as he glances away for a moment before looking back at the ghost child. "Now what have I said about raising your voice and yelling wants without asking please?" He then asks, as if playing into the spirits seeing the the blonde as her parental figure. Vincent coughs somewhat placing a hand on his hip as he looks down at them maintaining his ground, as he crosses his arms attempting to act as not mad but disappointed parent.
There had been a wind picking up while the little ghost child yelled out her demands, rustling through the branches and leaves of trees; it quietens abruptly at the first 'Yes', soothing out to the earlier, calmer breeze of the day. The words that leave him after serve to make the child even more docile, the girl shrinking in on herself at the not-mad-but-disappointedness she's faced with. The perfect posture for Vincent to get another good look into the insides of her skull, really. "I'm sorry," comes the quiet little mumble in answer, abashed and ashamed, before she dares another peek up at him. "Can we play, /pleeeeeeeeease/?" The pleading eyes up at him speak quite clearly of her desire for him to start looking for a hiding spot, and she doesn't wait for his answer before declaring, "I'll count to ten!"
Vincent letting out a light sigh as he looks up into the air to mummer again softly to himself. "Vinnie boy.. what have you gotten yourself into.. play hide and seek.. the time to put them to bed at the graveyard." Vincent mummers to himself in a soft tone, before looking back down at the ghost child, his face grimacing slightly at the look of ghost brains before smoothing out and going back into his parental actor role as he speaks again "Ok, but no climbing up any more trees and it's straight to bed after this? Understand?" He 'asks' with that tone of a parent who is /really/ not asking but telling; waiting for the correct response back as he taps his foot on the ground.
"Okay, I'll go to bed after this! One!" She starts before Vincent's even started moving, much less gone out of sight, so he doesn't have a lot of time to spare to hide. She seems delighted, not even put off at the prospect of being put to bed - as long as she gets to play. As long as he's agreed to spending time with her.
"Two!" She turns to face the tree, instead of him.
"Three!" she closes her eyes.
"Four!" Her hands rise up to cover her vision, making sure she can't see Vincent wherever he decides to go to hide.
"Five!" A step is taken forward, closer to the tree.
"Six seven eight!" Is it just him, or is her voice getting fainter and quieter?
"Nine!"
There is no ten. A gust of wind brushes past Vincent, ruffling his hair from its perfectly set style to something approaching messiness. Behind him, the destination of the breeze, is a mound of dirt he may or may not have noticed before: a small grave with a small, cracked headstone, the words too faded to make out.
And then the breeze is gone too, and only stillness remains.