the nightingale
He/him
30
December 4th
Wedgehurst, Galar
Homosexual
Professor?
Grunt
in the low lamp light i was free / heaven and hell were words to me
TAG WITH @nightingale
thomas nightingale
MIDNIGHT MUSEUM [NEN]
POSTED ON Sept 26, 2022 21:16:04 GMT
For a trained assassin from a secret sect lost to Galarain history, Thomas’d had fewer run-ins with the supernatural than he’d have liked, in his life. Considering he’d made quite a few ghosts, it was unsurprising that his vision of Yveltal, beautiful and hallowing in the night sky, had marked him, and put him directly on a path that intersected with higher levels of phantasmagoria. He was ecstatic. Life as a nonbeliever was ever so dull. A nervous, electric tension dances down his skin as he opens the door for those following him and shuts it again, moving to check that the door has latched and there will be no devious interlopers to set their evening askew. No sooner had the door handle knocked against the lock, wiggling only slightly up and down, did a loud, almost nails-on-chalkboard screech-- an old chair grating against the ground. But everyone present-- Locke Jamison , Eris Halla , and luka chêne -- stand in a semicircle around him, and they are the only physical beings in the museum. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “It begins,” he says, voice deepened and accent thick for dramatic effect. He rolls a Pokeball down the length of his palm and summons Kilbourne, his Palpitoad, whom he’s hoping will be slightly more sensitive to any otherworldly ghostly vibrations, given the nodes on his head. “And here I was hoping to sneak a peek at the exhibits,” Thomas says, the lilt in his voice hinting at his good humor. He pointed his cane in the direction he imagined the sound came from. “I would like to investigate the employee lounge, see if we can find our mischievous chair.” He laughs a little, breath huffing in the cold air. “Do be careful, everyone. We don’t want to create any more ghosts.”Despite his flippancy, he’s not totally unaffected by the absurdity of the situation-- he keeps catching glimpses of shadows moving out of the corners of his eyes, things easily explained by clouds passing over the moon, light from a flashlight refracting off a glass display case. He is spooked, but it’s more… fun. For now. He pushes into the employee lounge, peering around the room. “Kilbourne, use mist, please. We’ll check for any wisps, at the very least.” etBVhqvs
Locke Jamison luka chêne Eris Halla hope this is okay they won't all be this long i prommy thomas has his palpitoad out. goes to investigate the break room. palpitoad uses mist to check for wisps. (edit bc i forgot to roll)
|
|