knownoguilt (knownoguilt) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-10-21 07:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | fr antoine verdoux, john abbott, simon alexander |
Next Time, Explicit Instructions
The Study
Early Evening
Simon sidled over to John Abbott, giving the vampire a slight elbow in the ribs to subtly engage the man's attention. After some consideration on the matter, he had come to the calm conclusion that he trusted precisely none of these people, and that the house they were in was almost certainly haunted by some kind of terrible and supremely evil spirit. "My friend, have you ever been to a Seance?"
John, who held up a wall in the corner, refused to uncross his arms. Perhaps he worried someone would take aim at his heart if he did. A strange lot of people occupied the house, some uncomfortably calm at the thought of the occult. Then again, the most likely suspect was his closest friend in the room. He was still sore from the last staking. "Why would I do that?" he asked, keeping his voice down. "Only a mad man would talk to the undead." His own acting rivaled Marguerite's when he uttered that irony. "What did you have in mind?"
Izzy at that particular moment happened to be one room over, not quite sure he should have been alone. On the one hand, he was well-aware that no matter what came his way, he could have dealt with it (or so he thought). On the other, he was now quite convinced that there was more to worry about than vampires, and it made him entirely too jumpy for his own good, and being starving didn't help. He lit another cigarette before he heard voices from the study. He froze, and then straightened up and walked across the hall and into the room. To his surprise, it was not something unearthly. "Excuse me," he said with a hurried nod.
Simon grinned at John denying his own existence, clearly amused by the contradictory nature of the response, he waved a hand excitedly, as if to brush away the suggestion that it was madness. "John, madness would be to deny that this place has something of the otherworld about it! It screams from empty lungs, lures us in and snaps shut behind us like the jaws of a beast! There's something here, and... well, the conventional way of getting out of these situations would be to give that something what it wants. What I have in mind is to find somewhere away from the muddied voices of the masses and ask whatever dwells here what that is." It may have been slightly inaccurate of him to refer to the assortment of fellow prisoners as "the masses" but Simon's mind was moving too fast for him to care.
He glanced over his shoulder as he noticed Izzy in the doorway. "You are excused," he said shortly, before turning his attention (a little rudely) back to John.
John shifted his body weight from foot to foot. "Ask it what it wants?" He scratched his cheek and looked at the younger man at the threshold, whom he had no doubt wanted an opportunity to kill him. Somehow, Izzy Alderdice had figured out John's secret, though he had been careful to keep his fangs short and his eyes in well-lit surroundings. "I'll admit that I'm as curious as you are, but there is an inherent danger in asking such a question, and that's having the answer," he tipped his head, "And determining whether or not to acquiesce." He pivoted to put his shoulder on the wall. "Suppose it asks for a human sacrifice." Admittedly, he added the last bit for Mr. Alderdice's benefit.
He might have left had the conversation not turned interesting. Finding out what was in the house might be the first step to fighting it. After all, if he knew what to look for, he could likely find the source of whatever it was. From there, it would just be a matter of killing it and out of overconfidence Izzy didn't think that would be too much of a problem for him. He took a drag on his cigarette and listened to the two men talk. When Mr. Abbot had finished, he smiled a little and said, "Can't say I could help you much with that," it didn't matter, he assumed that both men knew that he wasn't exactly human, "But I wouldn't mind findin' out what's in here. No sense fumbling 'round in the dark and all."
Great. So Israel was now a part of the conversation. Simon rolled his eyes and stepped back a little, so he was no longer talking exclusively to John, although his body language on the matter of disapproving of the new involvement was far from subtle. Glancing back to the Vampire he gave a half shrug. "If it asks for a human sacrifice then we'll just have to find some other way of dealing with it, I mean, we have a priest here don't we? And there are a number of unholy banishing rites spread through the history of the western magical tradition, but it might just take us all holding hands and encouraging some theatrical sound effects to move into the light! Besides," he permitted himself another grin, "Don't tell me you're not just the smallest bit curious!"
John smiled and discreetly pointed at Simon's chest. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to suggest sacrificing the priest." He forced his face into a frown. "But that would be wrong." He clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and stepped away from the wall, pulling him along. "I think it's a wonderful idea. What say you, Mr. Alderdice? Care to join us in a seance? Of course, any foe we contact through these means is unlikely to cower away from a fire poker, but I daresay we'll manage."
"Certainly sir. I daresay I'm right curious about perhaps getting out of here," said Izzy, incongruously jolly about the whole situation. Come to think of it, no matter what they were doing, it would probably be a good idea to keep an eye on the vampire. "I'm sure we will, Mr. Abbot," he said with a nod, flicking the ash off his cigarette, where it landed on the floor and went out almost immediately, not even leaving a scorch.
A Secluded Upstairs Room
The Present.
Simon sat down carefully at the round table in the upstairs parlour, gesturing to John and Izzy to do the same. He'd never actually led a seance himself before, but he'd attended a number in his time, and honestly didn't have much time for the concept that the role of the medium was one which could only be performed by a certain quality of woman. It was for this reason that he felt quite confident in his ability to lead proceedings, and to take it upon himself to explain the procedure to those with him. "Right, now I would ask you both to not interpret this as a sign of my affection for either of you, but I'm going to have to request you both take my hands, and one another's also. It is vitally important while we proceed through this that you do not break the hold between us. If at any point you want to back out, then for god's sake tell me and don't just wrench your hand away. The philosophy suggests if we break the contact while still in communication, then its grip upon the physical realm is strengthened, or it can continue some level of power over you when the proceedings are complete."
Simon frowned thoughtfully, mentally going over what he'd done in the past when he'd attended such events. "Another thing is, once the circle is formed, before we attempt to contact anything, it's wise to have some time in silence, to banish all distractions from the space. Then we can greet whatever is here, and proceed from there. So," he extended his hands to them both, and wiggled his fingers impatiently, "Help yourselves."
The cabinets of the house were empty of food, a fact that the humans amongst them met with dismay -- making it necessary for John to pretend distress as well. At the moment, however, all he wished they contained was a bottle of good scotch. He took Simon's hand with only the expected amount of discomfort, but Izzy's was taken with a bit more annoyance. If the boy hadn't strong-armed him in the study, he might not have felt such disdain towards him. Probably. There was still the matter of the not-quite-human smell of him, and the strength.
"If I find myself in dire need of scratching my nose, I will ask before taking care of it." Once his hands were linked with the others, John focused his hooded eyes on Simon. "Right then."
If the situation hadn't been deadly serious, Izzy might have made comment on the fact that part of him wondered if Simon was trying to compensate for something, but even he knew this really wasn't the time. He took Simon and the vampire's hands as if it hardly mattered at all and really, weren't there bigger things to worry about than one's reputation in this situation? More than anything he wanted to know what was in this house so that he could get rid of it and perhaps get rid of the vampires and get food. How bad could it be? "As shall I," he said, nodding with a smirk.
Simon wasn't worried about food, he hadn't even really seriously considered being here long enough to be worried about starvation, but even in the worst case scenario he suspected someone would end up killing someone else and then they could all eat the body, no harm done. Hands taken, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, quietly wondering how long exactly he was supposed to wait in silence before addressing the potential spirits present. Had the other mediums counted in their head? If they waited too long would the spirits get bored and wander off? Simon pushed the thoughts aside, forcing himself to be calm and take deep breaths. After a few minutes more had passed, he finally spoke. "We are here to address whomever or whatever is in this place, we want to welcome you to communicate with us here, through whatever means you are able, to the ends by which you may move on to the other side, and we might return to our lives. In all respect, we request some kind of sign or signal that you are here and that you hear us."
Simon waited for some kind of response from whatever otherworldly beings might be in the vicinity, but at that moment, the only change that appeared to produce immediately was a slight chill entering the room, creeping down his spine.
John did not notice the cold, though there came, after a time, a mild ringing in his left ear. Unsure of the origin of it, he lifted his shoulder and rubbed his head against his coat. He did not draw any conclusions. He stared at the center of the table, as if whatever entity Simon called upon might manifest in the center of the circle. A thump, however, he noticed. Thinking that Mr. Alderdice might have accidentally nudged the table, he gave him a questioning look. "Did you strike your knee on the table just now?" he murmured.
"No, I didn't," was what Izzy would have liked to say, but he found that when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn't form. The room was completely normal, everything was completely normal, no sounds or chills. It felt, however, like someone had grabbed hold of his vocal chords. He tried to say it again, but what came out of his mouth was a soft, faraway but on some level ghastly laugh that did not sound like his own. His eyes widened in horror and he pressed his lips together and swallowed hard before he found that it had stopped.
Simon tightened his grip on John's hand ever so slightly at the sound of Izzy's laugh, not due to an assumption that it was the beginnings of a possession or a channeling of some spirit, but rather because hearing the unfamiliar voice coming from Israel's mouth brought back the sudden and disquieting memory of the boy's attack on him. Swallowing hard, he kicked Izzy under the table, choosing to take the laughter as an expression of guilt rather than what it could have been. "Well don't do it again then. It's distracting," he ordered. Opening his mouth to address the spirit again, Simon was quickly cut off by the table suddenly jolting up and shuddering violently between the three of them. "All right, now that we have your attention!" he cried irritably. "We unfortunately lack the means to decipher the tellings of a wobbly table. Would you be hugely offended if I suggested a more practical manner of communication?"
So maybe practiced mediums were slightly less flippant with the spirits than he was. Simon was doing fine!
As no ink or paper appeared readily available, John got an uncomfortable feeling about the proceedings. He cast his eyes about the room for another means of writing messages -- paint, a dusty surface, a sharp tool for scratching wood -- and saw none, at least not in his immediate vicinity. He leaned toward the impromptu 'medium'. "Simon," he murmured, "If you are about to suggest that this creature channel itself through one of our throats, I may give in to ripping out yours."
There came a tiny splintering sound, as of a fissure opening up in plaster. A hairline crack appeared down one of the walls. Another branched out from the top of the first, this time in a horizontal line, only to be followed by two more, until a rough letter emerged.
Something wanted to speak through him, that much Izzy knew. If it could, it would have forced his mouth open, and even as he gritted his teeth he could feel something in his mind, like fingers feeling through to somewhere he couldn't control. It was quite painful, actually, and he dearly wanted to scream but was scared to find out what would happen if he did.
Izzy looked at the cracks forming in the wall, and his grip on both the men's hands tightened. He twitched, and then finally opened his mouth as if he wanted to gasp out some kind of plea, but what came out was some sort of unintelligible hacking sporadically accompanied with more ghastly laughter. All this time, he stared at the wall, and though his vision blurred he still tried desperately to read the words.
"Oh very clever John, that's exactly the kind of thing I would obviously suggest, aside from the fact that in case you hadn't noticed, I am one of us, and have no intention of inviting any such thing to attempt to possess--" Simon cut himself off, watching with rapt attention as the letters began to creep into thin web like lines across the wall, the letters forming unintelligible words. Despite the chill of fear rising up his spine, Simon couldn't not grin at the sight, to see the solid and sentient reality of what he'd been chasing for his entire life playing out before his eyes? It was exhilarating.
There were strange sounds coming from the upstairs room. It was far more vibrant than the house had been since the priest had arrived. The laughter resounding from within a certain room sent chills down his spine. But Fr Verdoux was armed to the t, as he had been since the first cackle. He left the safety of the study, assuring the others of his safe return, then mounted the stairs two at a time. Yes, he could discern which room, he thought. And did he hear other, more earthly voices?
He pulled at the knob, twisting it in his slender fingers. As he opened it, he saw a sight which made him almost curse--indeed he would have done so were he not a man of the cloth! In the manner of those who styled themselves "Spiritualists," Messrs. Abbott, Alexander, and Alderdice were holding hands around a table and seemingly conjuring something.
"What on earth are you doing?!" Fr Verdoux shouted, his voice booming in a way quite unlike his usual quiet demeanor. "You do not know what you do. This must end now."
Unable to break the circle of hands, partly due to explicit instructions and partly to the death grip of the other men, John lifted up the juncture between his arm and Mr. Alderdice's and waved the priest off. "Communing with the beast," he said, mostly in jest. "Be quiet. We're making progress... or destroying the building, at the moment it is difficult to tell which." He scrutinized the far wall, where rough letters continued to cut the surface. E-S-C. What was that? Escapade? Escalate? Escargot?
"I believe it's telling us to escape!" John shouted, as if there was a high wind in the room he needed to overcome. Then he frowned, as that couldn't possibly be an order from the entity that haunted the residence. "That is just what we've been trying to do for hours. Simon, are you sure you conjured the correct spirit?" He looked at his curly-haired companion with suspicion.
By this point, all Izzy really wanted to do was figure out what it was they were channeling, mainly so that he could get it out of his head and kill it. Of course, if it could do this much to him, it might not react to traditional methods. If that were the case, then he'd have to employ some non-traditional methods. It wouldn't be especially difficult.
E-S-C-W-I-J and then the message ceased to make sense to Izzy. Was it in a foreign language? Perhaps the language of demons? The laughter had become softer and higher, when suddenly it stopped. It was then that he comprehended that there was someone behind them, and when he looked back his eyes widened, and he would have tried for some kind of excuse. His expression turned serious, and he nodded in the vampire's direction as if to say 'He's right,' before a few not entirely human sounds escaped his lips.
"Oh, you're only saying that because you're a priest." Simon had never had an enormous amount of time for priests, they were just like a far less fun variety of his own breed. In all the excitement his eyes had taken on a certain glaze, the look of a man who didn't really care that much why he was communing with the dead, but who was extremely pleased to be doing so, "There is no wrong spirit! If it's here then it's a part of this, a part of what's happening here, one piece of the--" he stopped himself from calling their situation a puzzle, vaguely aware that he was already enjoying himself a little more than was expected of him with their collective misfortune, "One more piece of the bigger problem."
Now completely ignoring the interrupting priest and the cackling young man holding his hand, Simon stared at the letters, willing them to reveal more of their secrets to him as he demanded, "Not good enough, we can't understand that! Answer with thuds, one for yes, two for no. Are you a resident of this house?"
Bang.
Simon was grinning a little wildly by this point, thoroughly thrilled with the entire situation, and showing no intention to consider stopping. "Are there other spirits with you here?"
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The sounds began to increase in intensity and volume, and Simon let out a short, slightly disconcerting giggle. Not demonically inspired such as the noises coming from Izzy, but rather just a sound of sheer glee at the madness of their situation.
John made a face at the source of the noise, which seemed to be the ceiling. "Ask if they're shagging one another."
Verdoux put his head in his hands for a moment, then pulled hard on his hair, dropping his satchel on the floor. He felt like screaming. They were ignorant of the fact, but the first thing one learned when dealing with demons was that one mustn't commune with them. And here they were, chattering jovially at dangerous parlour games as though they were watching an exhibition at the county fair. He shoved his hand into his pocket and took a grasp on the holy water.
"Fools!" he cried, his voice and demeanor stern and even, perhaps, intimidating. "You do not know that with which you communicate. Do you honestly think this is some friendly Dickens ghost? And yet here you are, carrying away like the Fox sisters. This must end now. It is not human and it never was. Any layman could tell you that, by looking at the situation." Rationally. He was positively infuriated, and felt his wrath spread, making his otherwise pallid cheeks grow hot. "If you want to get out of this house alive, you must stop this idiocy."
The shout captured John's attention and he looked at the Father, noticing at last the hand clutched at the man's side. What manner of torture device did he hold within his reddening fist? Was it a rosary, a communion wafer, or a bottle of holy water? He did not know what priests carried on their persons, and he thought the bread of Christ a long shot, but it did make him worry. "Ah... Simon," he muttered. Letters carved themselves deeper in the wall, but for the time being, John only thought about how he'd respond if the priest began flicking holy paraphernalia around the room.
The banging on the walls etched its way into Izzy's mind, as if someone were scoring a piece of clay. It felt about as pleasant, too. Thankfully, there was no more laughing, but he was afraid to speak. There was talking going on around him, but he was enraptured by what the - well, it must have been a demon - was doing. He was absolutely certain that he couldn't end this without going all the way through with it, painful as it was. It was just something he knew instinctively, or perhaps he'd just convinced himself of it. He was also fairly certain that, by the end of this, he would know what the demon was.
After a while, he noticed something, only because he'd been mostly forced to listen so carefully. The thumps on the wall made out a very complex rhythm, so much so that it might have been mistaken for random. When Izzy realized this, he listened for a little while longer, looked at the random letters in the wall, felt the scrabbling at his mind, and looked again at Simon's face before he began to realize something he didn't want to admit. "It's funning -" he said softly, surprised by his own voice before he immediately broke into another peel of unearthly laughter.
Simon completely and utterly ignored the Priest, and Izzy, and John, instead managing to control his giggling long enough to boom out into the room, "Oh great spirits, are you shagging one another?"
Apparently something out there in the universe didn't approve of this level of irreverence, since the response Simon received was of a sudden tremor wracking through the room. Possessed with a strange, elated kind of madness, Simon merely cursed and spat into the air as the boards beneath his feet shook. The pure selfish drive of just how much he was enjoying this superseded by far all instincts for self preservation, or concern for John's well being, indeed, the risk of the priest and the vampire barely even occurred to him as he cussed and moaned at the room.
"This is more than enough. It's influencing him." And it was clear, the priest thought. Between the raving mad gleam in Alexander's eyes and the otherworldly laughter from Alderdice's lips, it had become evident that the situation had had an alarming effect on the two of them. He would have to do something now lest whatever force existed in the room do something dire. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle of holy water, and began.
"In the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." He splashed the water toward the center of the table, one time for each Person in the Trinity. "You are compelled to leave these men. I know you and have seen your kind before. Be gone, devil!" He began reciting several prayers specific to the exorcist, the words discernible only to those who were versed in Latin.
With a great scrape of chair legs, John propelled his seat backward and stood up, overturning it in the process. "Whoa!" He shook loose the other men's hands and held his palms up in a staying gesture. "Let's... let's not be rash. We don't know for certain that it's the devil we contend with, and not the ghost of an old tenant! But if it is him... I feel certain that spilling holy water where we've just summoned him will only incur his wrath." He combed fingers into his unruly hair and hoped that his argument made more sense aloud than it did in his head. Inwardly, he gave thanks that the priest's aim was true. One wayward droplet, all it took to expose him for an undead interloper.
It was at about this time that things became incredibly real and utterly horrifying. Izzy wasn't learning about a ghost so that he could kill it anymore. The whole exercise was futile, and more than that he knew now that he was in danger, and that he could die very, very soon. Simon's next actions only served to make the whole thing worse. On the one hand, Izzy saw someone pathetic and delusional, and he almost wanted to laugh but he was highly aware that if this didn't end soon he could be dragged down with the man. And all for some sick joke played by a something he still didn't understand in the slightest!
Izzy glanced around wildly, terrified and looking for someone, anyone who'd heard him, but it seemed that they were all going to go along with it, weren't they? He dug his fingernails into Simon's hand, trying to get him to stop if nothing else. It was then that he heard Verdoux's voice, praying and chanting. It was then that he felt the fingers in his mind lose hold, felt himself gasping for breath without anything coming in to take the place of his own voice. He also had a splitting headache. He closed his mouth and tried to get himself under control. He was still terrified, and practically bent double when he let go of John and Simon's hands, holding his head and shivering.
Simon felt the holy water splash back onto him lightly as John wrenched his hand away. Carefully he reached up and wiped the droplets away, letting the dhampir shudder to himself and the vampire back away from the whole affair while he basked in the afterglow of what they'd just experienced. Yes, it had been strange, yes it had been frightening and yes they had ultimately learned nothing that was to their benefit, but to Simon? It was as though he'd been trapped under water and just taken his first gasp of air for years. He felt invigorated, incensed with fascination and excitement, completely and utterly thrilled by what had taken place.
Still giddy with delight, Simon rested his fingertips on the edge of the table and glanced down idly into the small pool of holy water that had formed there. Holy water. Oh dear god John was a vampire and the Priest had thrown holy water at them. He looked immediately to his companion to check if there were any great and obvious scaldings across John's body, his eyes skipping in some alarm over the other man. Softening a little as he realised that John was all right. The hand that Izzy had been holding was beginning to ache, and Simon glanced down at it, noting the dark red semicircles where Izzy's nails had driven into his skin.
Simon frowned, but added nothing.
"Well," said Verdoux off hand, scrutinizing each of them in turn. "What exactly did you think you were going to get out of this? Several things are clear. First and foremost, whatever it is that is holding us here, it has a goodly amount of power. I am not sure what experience you have had with the more supernatural elements, but a general spirit manifestation would have much ado in even embodying itself so that you might see it. Secondly, whatever it is has something of an effect on the brains of the inmates here--it seems to be able to manipulate and influence thought. If you remember, you were tricked here via hallucination. And noting your behavior just now, I daresay it is not quite...yourself. At least, that is my hope. So, we can conclude that whatever this is, it is not friendly and it is not complacent. The first rule is to never talk with the entity. You've just broken that rule."
He was oddly calm and his voice had lowered to an even tone. He had slipped the little vial back into his pocket, and ignored the various drummings and other things which seemed to be coming from the entity. He would not give it the satisfaction of confronting it. Not yet, at least. As for the gentlemen in question, he was appalled by their behavior. He had assumed there were places in Bedlam for such characters, and yet here they were--quite possibly the worst companions one could have in such a situation.
"There, you see, Father?" John righted his chair. Behaving like the perfect adolescent he looked under his mop of hair, he pointed a jesting finger in the holy man's direction. "This is precisely the reason you were not invited. You've gone and spoiled our fun with a lecture from the pulpit and I don't recall gathering for mass." To be fair regarding his levity, it was a complicated thing to strike terror in the heart of a vampire, who had already surmounted death once and saw no reason to fear it a second time. Indeed, some might call his affliction a demonic possession, though he merely considered himself a reanimated corpse with a peculiar taste in refreshment. He also had no idea the severity of what was going on inside Mr. Alderdice, who only seemed to have contracted hysterical giggles and a migraine.
"I think this exercise has been quite instructive." John walked to the opposite wall and stood beside the scribblings, hands on his hips. "We now know that whatever holds us captive is malevolent, cannot spell, and has a sense of humor." Meandering back to Simon's side, he gave his friend a clap on the shoulder. "Well done, chap. It beats standing around in the study waiting for mass hysteria to set in." Of course, there was no way to know if Simon had successfully conjured a spirit, or simply provided a prime opportunity for the entity in the house to communicate.
Whether or not Izzy was listening to the conversation was unclear, as he sat with his head cradled in his hands and did not speak. It was clear, however, that he was not taking this quite as lightly as Simon or John. He didn't answer Verdoux's question, but had stopped shaking. He sat up and maintained a neutral expression. He looked around at the three men before breaking into a slightly manic smile. "What's the use of it?" he asked, and then said in the most matter-of-fact tone he could manage, "We're going to die here, anyway. We're entertainment, that's all."
It was then that Izzy stood up, looking a little bit like a rag doll with his left fingers sewn to his temple. "Good evening to you, gentlemen," he said as he turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
"Oh don't be so negative!" Simon called after Izzy. As it happened, he was finding whatever was in this house easily as entertaining as it was finding him. Possibly moreso! He gave a little smile towards the Father, "You daresay wrong, John was quite within his own mind, as was I, and whatever the hell got into Mr Alderdice has been there since before we wandered into this house, I assure you of that Father." The smile honestly... leaned a little towards the unpleasant side as he finished the sentence, but thinking about what nasty things dwelled beneath the skin of the younger man didn't put him in that pleasant a frame of mind. He gave a little snort of contempt at the good Father informing them of "the first rule", but he didn't pass comment. It should at least have been obvious from his demeanor that he clearly didn't believe that whatever rules the priest might follow even began to apply to him.
Remembering his personal vow to stay on the good -- or at least, neutral -- side of the priest, who had taken on a leadership role within the group, John sobered. This was just the sort of flamboyance that drew negative attention. Only now, in the quiet aftermath of Mr. Alderdice's departure, did he recognize how far he strayed from that goal. How was it that trouble always accompanied time spent with Simon? "Ah... Father," he said, touching his forehead. "You have my word, we will not engage in such antics again. Though I cannot say I didn't enjoy myself, I am..." He dropped his arm and sighed. "Fortunate not to be speaking in tongues at this very moment."
"Don't do it again," Verdoux said, his voice returning to normal. He slipped the vial back into his pocket, and leaned down to pick up his satchel. He was frustrated more than anything else. It was as though he were speaking to them in his native tongue rather than English. He was not arrogant about his expertise in matters of the paranormal, but he knew enough to know idiocy when he saw it, and that was what he saw here. "The two of you, you are like children trying to do the work of an experienced master. There are some things you shouldn't challenge until you know how to deal with them properly. When you understand the nature of spirits and demons, then you may speak with me on these matters. Until then, I advise you to end your spiritual indiscretions."
With this chastisement, the good Father turned his heel and left the room. He decided to return to the study and collect in his mind information concerning what he had seen. As absurd as the situation had been, he would have been fool to think that it had not shed more light on the matter. He grasped his hand through his hair, pulling out several strands as he yanked on it. Whatever entity pervaded the house, it was malevolent. He had his theories, but he would keep them to himself. It was clear that not everyone here could be trusted, and that was a shame.
Simon pointedly ignored the telling off that he was getting, instead studying his fingernails intently while the man scolded them. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea in the universe, but it certainly wasn't the worst either. No one had gotten physically hurt, there was a bit of damage to the wall, but all in all it had been thoroughly entertaining and far more interesting than he'd expected! The moment the priest was out the door Simon clapped a hand back across onto John's shoulder and gave his friend a most mournful look. "My friend, we're locked into a house full of mad boys and dull men. However shall I survive this ordeal?" He grinned like an idiot, then glanced across the other man, just giving him a quick once over now that prying ears were away from them. "You didn't get any of that on you, did you? I don't smell your flesh searing away, but I could just be oblivious..."
"I am happy to report myself uninjured," John said, steering his friend toward the door. "But don't get any ideas about experimenting with what's left on the table. I know where your mind goes at times, and it is a sick place, indeed."