peckenpaugh | SO LATE THAT IT'S EARLY

a frigidly cold night

what's up? The unrelenting icy cold sends most everyone inside early tonight. Even with magical heating, it’s hard to keep the chill away, almost like the holler, itself, wants you to stay snug under the covers, safe in your bed.

Sleep comes quickly and heavily tonight, and students dream of singing bugs and dancing birds…

Not a collaborative routine but two performances at odds, each vying tonight for your attention, dear child. The dancing of the birds beckons — follow and find truth and memory — but the buzzing insect song vibrates in your very bones, too: they are home, they are warmth, they are safety. Stay, stay, stay.

You are pulled in two directions in a forest of old maples. Beneath your feet the ground grows warm as vines creep up from strange dark cracks in the ground, climbing over each maple until they are overgrown with ivy leaves that look like fire — that are fire — and the maple seeds that fall from the dying trees as they burn are the singing bugs, their music fading until only one insect’s song remains.

Tonight, four pairs of feet climb from their beds and follow the birds.

Tonight, four different pairs of eyes open at the sight of the burning forest. Merlin Pletcher, Howdy Stoppelbein, Presley Mondragon, and Cicero Cook each wake with a start, each with a feeling of terrible dread.

And from there as more students wake it quickly becomes clear that something is very wrong:

It is late, so late as to almost be early, and Gertrude McGilliguddy, Xenia de Bourgh, Patrice Tang and Atlas Quigley are gone from their beds, nowhere to be found…

how this works! ⬥ Welcome to Peckenpaugh’s second major petition event! The primary winners of this event were Trudy, Xenia, Patrice and Atlas!

⬥ Petition winners please check your email again. we've sent a message to you all with more information. You can then refer to the “SOMEWHERE CLUTTERED” header for post-dreaming details!

⬥ Xenia de Bourgh has lost her journal and can’t find it! As soon as she realizes, Mr. Stirling provides her with a new one. It’ll take about 48 hours to get her properly added to the journal network, so for the next two days any of her journal posts or comments will be signed “UNREGISTERED USER”, rather than with her own name.

⬥ Merlin, Howdy, Presley and Cicero all woke with a start ahead of everyone else in the school. We assume y’all got the word out to staff that students were missing, eventually! Feel free to play these portions out in threads or journals, just put a descriptive timestamp in the subject of your posts.

⬥ There is no magic at work obscuring the location of the four missing students. They should be easy enough to find with the right tracking magic.

⬥ Classes are canceled for Thursday, January 30th, but will resume again on Friday. The scheduled party at Mothgarden is still on — if asked, the staff just doesn’t want the kids to worry too much. Also they have all this cheese and chocolate to deal with.

⬥ For the next few weeks, each House will have a faculty member staying in the chaperone’s room on the first floor over night. This’ll make shenanigans a bit harder, but (hopefully) disappearing kids less likely. The schedule is rotating, though usually it is your Head of House.

⬥ Mr. Purcell and Mr. Stirling can be seen around campus for the next week or so double checking magical locks and wards on all the dorms.

⬥ There is a sense that Peckenpaugh staff is taking this very seriously. Even the most immature faculty members aren’t making jokes about it, and it’s clear that most staffers have been given additional work investigating what’s happened. The four disappeared students can expect regular check-ins from their heads of house, and TAs may find their workloads increased as teachers hand off paper grading and other small tasks to them for the next few weeks...

locations! ⬦ AWAKE ON CAMPUS: After the first four students wake, it doesn’t take long for the rest of campus to start stirring. From there, word quickly spreads that four students are missing. This is a space to thread any on campus scenes before the students are located.

⬦ SOMEWHERE CLUTTERED: Dark and cold and musty. There’s so much junk in here, you can probably guess where you are without too much brain power…

⬦ SO LATE THAT IT'S EARLY: Returned to campus, the four missing students are held in the infirmary overnight, checked for any injuries, any signs of strange enchantment or forbidden curses. Aside from some reddened skin on their backs, there’s nothing. Their parents are informed via owl immediately. You may have slept like the dead earlier in the night, but for the rest of the night sleep proves fleeting for everyone...

⬦ OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Normally, Patrice wouldn't mind the infirmary so much - it's a great place to get fussed over and act like you're putting on a brave face given whatever injury or sickness has befallen you. He's not happy about it right now, though. He just wants to be back in bed with his roommates, where it's warmer and... safer isn't the word he'd use, but it's something like that. He's not afraid. Just wary.

Sitting up in his stupid not-very-big bed, his fingers run a little anxiously over the mask he'd ripped off his face when he'd woken up. Hopefully someone will come see him for a little bit before they banish everyone back to the dorms; even if he doesn't want the fussing, he could use the distraction. Heedless of anyone else present, he lets out a loud, annoyed groan.

Uriah peeks around the door frame, almost guiltily. There's a long moment where he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have any flowers of chocolates, and he definitely doesn't have anything reassuring to say. Still, he has to say something.

"Masks fuckin' suck, huh?" he drawls. "First the photopiano goes screwy, now you're off—like, whatever happened. Some real bullshit. Masks."

There's a clear relaxing of Patrice's shoulders as he catches sight of Uriah, and his expression shifts from thoughtful scowl to affected pout as he watches his roommate. No reason to show he's got anything but annoyance running through him while he's still trying to process this.

"Yeah, masks are stupid. I don't think this one is haunted either." He holds it up in offering to the other boy. "...did you guys see me leave or anything?"

Uriah takes it and then tosses it aside like trash. Someone else can analyze that. Someone smart and clever, which is to say not him. The mask bounces and then skitters across the floor. It's probably not damaged, but Uriah's disrespect is clear.

"We woke up and you were off to wherever," he explains and shrugs. It takes a moment but he creeps closer to Patrice. "You freaked everyone out, y'know."

Edited 2020-01-30 05:02 (UTC)

"Hey, don't throw other people's stuff," Patrice complains, but there's no real bite to it. He can't really blame Uriah for just wanting to get away from it, and while his eyes remain on the discarded item for a few moments, he's quick to refocus on his roommate.

Noting the other boy's slow approach, he simply beckons him over while also shifting in bed to make room for him. "Bowling alley basement," he informs, which is stupid and weird the more he thinks about it.

And while something feels good about knowing his friends were worried about him, it feels equally uncomfortable. "I am the best cuddle-buddy in the bed, so I can see why that'd be jarring to wake up without me."

Presley times his visit for as late as he can possibly manage without breaking curfew rules. He's not really sure why he's visiting. The others have assured him that Patrice is back and he's doing fine, which was enough for Presley. Patrice is fine. He trusts the staff to handle things from here.

Even so, he's stepping into the infirmary, and staring at Patrice with the sort of intense, analytical look that says he's cataloging Patrice's wounds (none visible) and signs of his mood (whiny baby, so normal). "The others had better have fussed over you, because you're not about to get it from me," Presley informs him as he approaches the bed.

Though Patrice can tell there are eyes on him, he doesn't look up immediately; instead he sets the mask on the bedside table and fiddles with the bedsheets, trying to pull them up a little more around his seated form. Presley's voice fully draws his attention, though, and he lifts his gaze with an almost relieved smile.

"Awww, but I'm an invalid now, and didn't you miss me?" He wiggles over in the bed so Presley can sit with him, if he wants. "To be honest, though, I'll take food over fussing if you've got any."

SO LATE THAT IT'S EARLY

Patrice & OPEN++??

Patrice & Uriah

Patrice & Uriah

Patrice & Uriah

Patrice & Uriah

Patrice & Presley

Patrice & Presley