“And all the souls on earth shall sing
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day!
And all the souls on earth shall sing
On Christmas Day in the morning!
Then let us all rejoice again
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day!
Then let us all rejoice again
On Christmas Day in the morning...”
~“I Saw Three Ships (cover)” by Blackmore’s Night
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Happy Christmaween! xoxo 🎃🎄
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When the spirit of Orion Amari, otherwise known as the Wanderer, was finally allowed to stay at the Cromwell Manor, all of the ghosts there were finally able to rest easier as well. The combination of the Phantom’s anger and the Bride’s melancholy had been an unpleasant shadow over them for a while, and it was a relief when it finally passed. In fact, since the Wanderer had appeared at the Manor, the Bride’s aura had been oddly lighter. On those few occasions she left the attic, often to clean or close the curtains before dawn, the glow of her eyes and heart brought a strange warmth to the space around her. It helped mitigate the dark ire of the Phantom that continuously emanated off of the attic.
Over the next three decades, the Wanderer and the Beating Heart Bride would exchange covert messages through the songs they sang in each other’s earshot. It was the only way that was safe for them to communicate, since the Phantom had forbidden the Beating Heart Bride to speak to Orion, or for him to come anywhere near the attic again. Fortunately, as strange as this new language of theirs was, it ended up working rather well for both of them.
Highland Mary was exchanged for Blowing in the Wind -- If You Could Read My Mind was exchanged for The Fair Maid -- Imagine, for Over the Hills and Far Away. I’m a Believer ended up getting Orion banished for a second time, after the Phantom heard the Bride humming the unfamiliar tune while cleaning the upstairs banisters and later caught Orion playing it on his guitar. Orion’s return was marked with still more remorse and shame with Sweet William’s Ghost, as well as forgiveness and resolve through Our Day Will Come.
As the years passed, both of the ghosts’ fondness for each other grew. It made Orion’s resolve to break the Bride’s chains all the stronger, and it made the Bride try all the more to keep Orion at a distance, for fear of the Phantom’s anger. She would frequently try to ward Orion back with parting songs like Ae Fond Kiss, only for Orion to return a My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own or I’m Telling You Now, or even to come upstairs in open defiance of the Phantom’s orders to speak to the Bride directly.
“I cannot sing this as well as you, so I will say it plainly: I am not giving up. I will set you free, no matter what it takes. No matter how much the Phantom may rage, I will weather his storms. I will weather them, as you do, until you’re finally free of him and you never have to weather them again.”
This pronouncement, when overheard by the Phantom, got Orion banished a third time. The Bride only managed to convince the Phantom to rescind that banishment in time for the winter holidays, at which time the Bride sang songs she’d picked up from other ghosts like the Performer @ag907 and the Child Spirit’s wards @dat-silvers-girl in celebration.
“I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day, on Christmas day!
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day in the morning!”
The Phantom may have complained about the Bride interacting with “such lowlifes,” but his menacing aura did seem oddly settled, hearing his captive singing so brightly. The Bride’s happiness had lightened up the rest of the Manor too -- Orion soon heard the Ghost Host and many other similarly red-haired ghosts singing Christmas carols around the house too (though much more off-key), as if hoping she’d hear and sing along with them.
Orion himself, though, showed his joy by playing a song on his guitar on the stairs, as always.
“Someday soon, we all will be together, if the Fates allow...
Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow...
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now...”
For once, while playing, Orion felt a cold gloved hand close over the shoulder of his jacket. When he looked up, the Bride instantly withdrew, her gloved hands flying up to her glowing red heart as she closed her eyes and turned away.
“Bride...”
When Orion made as if to comfort her, she quickly brought a hand up to his lips to quiet him. He flushed, startled, as she looked up at him, her lips spread in a slightly strained smile and her yellow eyes blazing with both sorrow and fondness. Then, slowly and gently, she backed away, fading away into the wall and up toward the ceiling.
“Have yourself...a merry little Christmas...”
The song was on the Bride’s lips quite a bit, over the next few weeks. Perhaps because the Phantom didn’t know Orion was its source, it seemed to soothe the attic’s menacing aura somewhat, making it far gloomier and more longing than hostile.
In the three years following that Christmas, Orion experimented, trying to figure out how to play some songs the Bride would sing on his guitar. He’d gotten quite practiced at Spanish Ladies, after playing it off and on in a corner of the main bar in Liberty Square over the course of a year. He’d sort of been hoping to surprise the Bride by playing one of her favorite songs, so she could sing along as he played.
It was while practicing the chords for Barbara Allen that the Wanderer was first approached by a tall young man he’d never seen before.
“Hey. You.”
Orion finished playing out the chord before sparing one eye to look up at the young man. He was dressed in a green and white track suit with a white T-shirt underneath that said “I Hear Dead People” printed across it.
“You’re the one the locals call the ‘Wanderer,’ right?” he asked. His voice was a low, cynical Southern drawl.
Orion’s eye lingered on the strange words on the young man’s shirt before darting up to his face.
“I am called many things,” he said airily. “‘Wanderer’ is one of them. ‘That weird man’ is another. And ‘Orion Amari’ is another still.”
The man wrinkled his nose when he frowned, clearly bewildered.
“...All right, then,” he said uneasily. “Mr. Amari...I’m Duncan Ashe -- I’m a paranormal investigator, here to look into the hauntings of Cromwell Manor. I’d like to know what you know about the so-called ‘Headless Man...’”
Orion’s interest was piqued at once. Little did he know, though, just how consequential this meeting would end up being...and how much it would change his afterlife forever.
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Enough random notes that have a written story on them as environmental storytelling, explore the space, get crazier with it.
You move into a house and aw cute, it has the kids height on the walls but you notice there's a three foot difference in height between measurements, you check the date, they're a month apart. The final measurement is on the ceiling. It's dated two days ago.
You're part of a recovery team that have finally found a stranded ship, they were found too late and have all passed a long time ago. They all died of starvation. You enter their storeroom, it's filled with food. In the dining hall you find the tables laden with perfectly fine looking breads, cakes, cured meats, jams, candies. Your medic says all the people sitting at the table didn't eat a Thing.
You wake up in an apocalypse. You can't find anyone at all as you wander the streets but you do hear faint music playing from somewhere. You stumble into a supermarket, to see all the aisles still full, except for the shelf that was full of ear plugs, which look to be the only thing that was looted.
Like there's light, sound, props. Having a street where every house is decimated except for One. Landing on a planet known for having No Water and a plant is growing and you don't know where it could have possibly gotten moisture from but you can't find the citizens Anywhere.
I'm sorry, I'm just kinda over the "graffiti on the wall to show the bad guy is around". That's not environmental storytelling that's just normal story. Show me I'm in the villains territory by the rain suddenly cutting out above me as I'm driving, even though it's meant to be raining all night. I park the car and step out, and realise the constellations are Wrong, until I see they're Not constellations, they're the blinking lights of a massive ship-
I Will stop now because everytime I go to write a sentence it devolves into another prompt but I'm just saying we have a Lot of senses, engage them, show me the Environment in environmental storytelling.
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