“Well yes, being dead then I suppose they are ghosts… But not the romantic, floaty, see-through kind in old-fashioned clothes that you sometimes hear about in stories. Although they are dressed oddly. In a style I don’t recognise, I mean.”
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He chews something over for a while. “At the handover - before all hell broke loose - Harris was ranting about dead men. Said they ‘took Lawton’. Just before he opened up, he yelled we were in league with ‘them’.”
“It’s sounding to me as if there’s something affecting people there. And it comes on quickly, too.”
“Ranting about dead men? So, it’s not just me then. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
[@Shimmin, is Stella able to describe in any detail how the people in her dreams are dressed?]
Mostly tattered uniforms of some sort, with a few civilian clothes.
Roll me some History.
Between the stress of the dreams and their condition, it’s hard to be sure exactly what you’re looking it. The men in uniforms have the sort of old-fashioned blueish jackets that have been used everywhere from the Union army to station attendants and hotel doormen. The others have the typical cheap three-piece outfit, looking somewhat dated. At a guess, maybe about 50 years ago?
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This might explain Harris’s reaction to uniformed police officers… But Stella keeps her hazy recollection of the dead mens’ appearance to herself at this point. It’s not something she really wants to dwell on.
Unless Green or McQueen have anything more to add, Stella will say goodnight and head for her room.
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You all return to your rooms as the staff begin to clear up the empty cups. You were told the attendants will (quietly) look in on you every 30–60 minutes after 10pm to record your behaviour; otherwise, you’ll be left alone for the night. Each door is left open a fraction, allowing in some light from the corridor. You’re free to do as you wish now, and decide when to go to bed.
Are there any particular bedtime routines you have? Anything you’d like to do in particular before 10pm?
At 10pm, Dr. Thorne sits down at a table at the end of the corridor where he can see all the patients’ room doors.
McQueen makes the long trek to wherever someone won’t pester him for smoking, has a last pipe before bed, and retires for the night. It’s not exactly unusual for him to go to bed sober, but it’s not the majority of nights either.
If nothing else intervenes, he’ll probably wake up after a few hours, spend half an hour writing down bits of story, then go back to sleep.
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Stella will jot down in her notepad all the snippets of information she has collected during the day. Might be newsworthy, might not, you never know…
Then she’ll read “The Second Shadow” for a bit before she tries to find that elusive thing called sleep.
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As he heads back to his room, McQueen will see Dr. Thorne settling into a chair at the end of the corridor, with a newspaper and coffee. “Evening, McQueen,” he says quietly. “I’ll just be here to keep an eye on things for a while. Hope you can get some rest.”
Footsteps and voices gradually fade, leaving only the sounds of an old building by night: wooden creaks, the faint clangs of distant pipes, the slight rattling of windows in the night breeze. For Vincent, there are the sounds of Emma, Celia, and Duncan preparing for bed; Celia returns from washing as he’s about to turn into his room, and gives him a cheery smile before retiring. She seems unaffected by the slight tension that hovers in the air as everyone prepares to confront sleep.
Psychology or Body Language please, Roger.
In her room, Stella finds the day’s events and conversation swirling around her mind. There’s a lot to take in - the study, new acquaintances, personalities and revelations to unpick, the sights and sounds and smells of the ward, and the startling fragments of something hovering around that trip to the Green Mountains. She finds herself with a lot to write down, and finds some relief in unjumbling her thoughts into words on the page. This is what she does: take the chaos of the world and make sense of it all, find the threads that make up narratives of causality.
Can I have a Writing (journalism) roll?
Laying down her pen, she settles down with “The Second Shadow”. There’s a fresh interest to it having actually met McQueen; she wonders what new insights into the story, and the man, may emerge. It draws her in, and time passes quickly.
McQueen lies back, mind soothed by a nourishing pipe of the good stuff. It’s been a funny old day; there’s probably something here he can use, too. That business with the cabin - something’s not right there. Still, now there are others involved. Perhaps they can shed some light on it all.
I’d like to know how he feels about Stella and William, and their experiences - don’t want to speculate.
There’s a slow, steady rattling somewhere in the roof - a loose tile, most likely. Irritating at first, it grows familiar and then curiously soothing. He drifts off to sleep.
*I use “curiously” here in the sense of “you wouldn’t have expected that”, not “eldritch”.
Perception rolls from anyone who’s still here, please.
@Suz asked for a die roll:
Rolling against Stella’s Writing (Journalism): 3d6: 3 + 5 + 4 = 12 vs 14
Rolling against Stella’s Perception: 3d6: 2 + 4 + 1 = 7 vs 14
Stella’s experience means she has little difficulty assembling the whirl of disparate impressions and information into some kind of coherence. Glancing over her notes, she feels confident that they’ll be useful whenever she needs to think back on the events of the day.
i.e. these notes will give you a bonus on recalling/analysing what you’ve learned so far.
I’ll wait for Roger before continuing.
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@RogerBW asked for a die roll:
Roger did not bring his character sheet on holiday, but if you don’t mind looking up the numbers:
Vs max(Psychology, Body Language):
3d6: 3 + 2 + 2 = 7
Vs Perception:
3d6: 4 + 1 + 5 = 10
McQueen is thinking that maybe there’s a real thing here, and it’s reminding him of his days as a very junior reporter before he moved into fiction. On the one hand, yeah sure let’s give the sleep study a go, but on the other if there’s something real and solid behind it all…
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I don’t mind, and these are both successful.
Something about Celia’s expression lingers as McQueen closes the door behind him. She’s been here longer than the rest; no surprise if she’s more relaxed about it. On the other hand, her manner seemed to go beyond carefree into exuberance, even anticipation. His mind flickers back to her words earlier that evening. “I’m sorry all of you have such distressing dreams. Mine are precious.”
Between gentle musing, tobacco, and a rather tiring day, he’s lulled to sleep. An hour or so later, something rouses him from shallow slumber. The ward is quiet now, with only dim light spilling through the crack of the door.
Stella is deep in “The Second Shadow”. The plucky heroine crouches behind an armchair, waiting for an unseen intruder to pass. It’s powerfully written; she can almost hear those soft footsteps padding closer… wait. With an effort, she resurfaces from the novel and hears the very real footsteps pacing down the hallway. They’re light and measured, though a little further off, she can make out a heavier tread. Someone, or a pair of someones, is approaching down the corridor. A glance at the clock - with its convenient radium face - shows it’s a little after midnight.
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Stella squashes the notion that her book has just merged with reality. Maybe it’s the staff doing their regular checks? Stella listens out for doors opening and closing. Or maybe Aurore is kicking off a midnight pyjama party? Can Stella hear any activity from the closest rooms opposite her @Lordof1 @Abubu ?
It might have been nothing. McQueen stays quiet, but listens and watches carefully.
Stella has the vague sense that she did hear a door creaking open, but was engrossed in her book and didn’t register it. She realises after a moment that, since they’ve all been asked to leave the doors ajar, these solid and clang-able metal doors probably won’t. The first set of footsteps pace past her door; the second is still some way behind.
With his ear cocked, McQueen quickly realises someone is walking down the corridor away from him. Two someones, actually; the second a little heavier, but perhaps more circumspect.
Depending on your own positioning and how wide ajar you left your doors, you either glimpse a shadow passing your room, or see Celia James making her way down the corridor, followed by Dr. Thorne with his notebook in hand.