[PP - F28][ST][RH] The Second Death

[Lessa 1]

Raven Hollow
Church
Midnight

Over a dozen community buildings made up the town of Raven Hollow. The livery stable, with its musty horse and hay scent. The boarding house and it’s five tiny rooms for rent. Doctor Henry’s office and the Fisher’s General Store. The jailhouse, the schoolhouse, and everything in between, all spread beneath the towering maple trees.

None stood as tall as the church, as if the structure itself required a closer connection to the heavens. The bell within the tower tolled, a haunting sound that silenced the forest’s natural night sounds. Once, twice, over and over, in spite of the fact the bell’s rope had gone missing decades before. Pews sat in precise lines, though dust appeared to be their only occupant. A handful of lit candles, evenly spaced around the perimeter of the wide room, illuminated a series of dark symbols painted on the walls. Once, an entire community had come together here. Now, all that remained was a lingering sense of unease.

Spoiler

<<Storyteller System in Effect - Acting as Storyteller>>
True Level: 110 / True Tier: 11

 

[Warren 0]

If only it didn’t take journeying to a remote, creepy town for Warren to have some peace and quiet.

Though, peace and quiet might not have been the proper phrase. Alone with his thoughts, was more accurate. There was a time when he had been nothing but. A self-imposed hermit left to his own devices. Tinkering and toiling day in and day out. A fitting act of penance, he thought. Yet once more he found the webs of camaraderie wound about him. He’d not sought it, content with solitude. It was suffocating, in its own way. Owing and being owed compounding. A perpetually unsettled debt, quid pro quo that stretched unto infinity.

He could endure that. If not for the infernal warmth and joy his companions had brought into his life.

So many had not -

Warren had learned to ignore those thoughts. Tamp them down beneath layers of practiced indifference. They could not worm their way beneath his skin if he simply refused to engage. But, time and again, they would resurface. It was those times that he needed blessed solitude. A means and a time to feel numb. The walls could not crack. Warren would take his time to reinforce their foundations. Layer upon layer of stone shoved into the cracks without a care.

His feet carried him to the second pew. He slid into the dust covered seat, propping his feet up on the pew in front of him. He’d sought salvation on the altar once. Hadn’t helped. He wasn’t insane. No sense repeating past actions. But he did take solace in the atmosphere. Almost charged, a pall of dread cast over the church. Though, that would be regarded with the same indifference. It all mattered little as the moonlight filtered in through the stained glass, casting the chamber in silver.

He wondered, if they competed, whose unease would overwhelm the other.

Let the moonlight be a shield for the town and Warren alike.