Farrah found unexpected company for her next urban exploring adventure in Charon. What surprises will they find in a haunted, abandoned lock-up?
Posted: Thu Jul 17, 2025 5:47 am
talking ★ thinking
Farrah leaned her head back to look to the top of the aging, multi-story jail that had stopped being used just before Utopia opened. It was deemed much too close to the Academy’s campus and would interfere with the comforts and safety of those royal and noble. What kind of message would it send to the young, impressionable wittle leaders of tomorrow, they argued. The squeaky wheels eventually got the grease and the inhabitants that were once housed there were marched to the new jailhouse on the outskirts of town. In her sleuthing to find a new spot to explore, one of the things she learned that not everyone left. At least, not the spirits of those who died within those walls. Getting lost in a place like this sounded like a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
She didn’t count on having company with her, simply because she usually ventured off to places like this on her own. Not that she was bothered by it. In fact, it was a nice surprise even if the Shahitian Duke didn’t exactly present his interest like that. Said he’d keep his lips sealed about her slipping off campus if he got to come along. That earned Charon a flicker of surprise in her otherwise resting features before she agreed and dragged him with her. He didn’t even know exactly where she was going when he threatened it, but he wasn’t the type to chicken out over mentions of things like “ghosts” and “gallows.”
“All you had to do was ask.” She spoke aloud with an amused hint of teasing. He didn’t even need to do that; with their respective kingdoms being allied and familiar enough with one another, they went back enough that he could just come. Farrah glanced over at Charon to gauge his reaction and what he was thinking of the place. It wasn’t much to look at, at least not on the outside. The lock to the tall iron fence they walked through looked long broken, all of the windows still had rusting metal bars, and large pieces of construction debris was scattered about. It was the inside where all the fun usually was.
She made her way into the abandoned building with little hesitation, enough that she remained cautious of what was in front of her. Even though this was the ground floor, she didn’t want to experience falling through a floor like she did a month ago, back in Langalibelele’s history class. Fortunately for both her and Ellis, who was on the floor below her and whom she comically fell on top of when it happened, it was all a hallucinatory simulation type experience and Ellis was in no danger of becoming unalived for real. She might have been reckless about some things, but she was always brimming with confidence she could hold her own if things got sticky. Plus, it was a good adrenaline rush and it felt better to be that than be scared to do much else. Farrah swept a wild bang back to one side and looked around at all the dilapidation that had already started to set in on the inside. Red eyes darted in the direction of a metal whine, like the sound of a cell door moving or something. A little more light could have been more afforded to them, but there was enough natural light that things were visible enough.
She looked back over to Charon. Back at the school just before they traveled out to the jail it took perhaps a bit longer for her to realize just how sloshed the slightly taller male was. She wanted to ask but held off at the time. That, and she might have let it slip her mind when his blackmailing efforts confused and ‘worked’ on her. “If you get haunted, that’s on you for bringing the ghosts home.” It was a funny thing, the mention of ghosts.
On one hand, she didn’t fully believe there’d be anything of the sort in there with them. Even if there was an entire Kingdom known as the “Kingdom of Spirits,” she was skeptical. On the other, one thing she looked forward to seeing was if she’d leave being touched by one; one of the few stories she heard involved a guard feeling his arm squeezed and finding fingerprints bruised into his skin the next morning. There were some other little goals Farrah had for being there, like finding something cool to roughly sketch so that she could finish it back at Utopia. The one from the hospital with Stefano, while incomplete, was coming along nicely when she was able to work on it. If this little adventure could make for a nice distraction for Charon, she’d claim that goal too.
She spotted a heavy door that was left ajar, which while weird meant more fun for them. It was, to her understanding, where access to the jail cells and the second story gallows was. ”Have you made anything lately?” She asked, not able to really help herself once the question about his own weapons making came to mind.
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Town - Abandoned City Jail ★ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ: Charon ★ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: Langalibelele ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:oversized black hoodie, tank top and pants, boots, necklace ★ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ:mocking spooky ghost noises, oOoOoOoOh...!'
Outfit [x] Profile [x] Location: Jail With: Rah Thoughts: Ghosts, as if OOC:
Charon hadn't expected to see the younger girl on campus, let alone when she was sneaking out of the grounds to do her favorite activity. Charon and Rah had been friends for a few years. Rah might have been from Mars, but since their kingdoms had been so close, it was easy for them to become friends over the years, slowly, or as near as Charon could allow. He always admired her ability to make weapons, keeping a few on his person even now, the daggers tucked into their sheaths around his hips. Of course, Charon had wanted to come with Rah, even if it was just to see how she was doing years later. The war had been brutal, but Charon had thrived during that time. Now, he was lost, and his sociopathic tendencies didn't have an outlet, other than drinking from the flask he kept on his person at most times.
He took a swig from the flask before loading his cigarettes while Rah stared up at the building they were about to enter. This was just another remnant of the war, an old prison building too close to Utopia to remain open. He finally lit the cigarette before looking over at Rah. His abilities with darkness gave him an edge in places like this; being able to see better than during the day came with its perks. Slowly taking his first drag, he offered the girl the cigarette. "I should have known the Princess of war wanted to explore an executioner's block." A simple knock of his shoulder into hers was the only indication he gave of his delight at the place before heading into the old building.
While he was taller and bigger than the girl, Charon let her take the lead while he finished off the last drag of the cigarette before rubbing it out and packing the filter in his sweats. Charon's eyes filtered over the glass and debris on the ground. He used to love following Rah and doing crazy things like this, even if he only enjoyed it because he was with her.
Charon was used to maintaining himself while drunk, but that didn't mean transversing the ruins was easy for him. If it weren't for his darkvision, he might have fallen on his a** by now, but the girl didn't seem to notice at all. Instead, she brushed her bangs out of her face while talking about ghosts "Oh, Princess, if I were going to be haunted, it wouldn't be from these ghosts." He let his voice dip lower, laughing as he walked behind her.
He moved to the door, which was left ajar, which made her face light up at the fact that it was open. Slowly, he opened it and gave her a teasing bow, "My lady." Charon let out a snort before standing up to answer her question. He leaned on the door as she passed. Rah was only a few inches shorter than him, but he couldn't help but catch her dark hair in his hand as she walked past. "Nothing fun," he muttered, "but I have been experimenting with new ways to make tattoos. What about you, Rah? Anything fun in your weapons stash?"
One brush of his hand on her hair made him think about their time together as kids. His father had been an interrogator for the King, then, and the alliance meant that their services were sometimes needed in her kingdom. He had enjoyed himself with her around and found her power amusing. Now, the softness of her hair aroused a different kind of enjoyment. Still, this was just Rah, and even drunk, he would never make a move on a Princess. He knew his place and knew that being with her would put him in the spotlight in a way that his work wouldn't allow him.
Instead, he kept the door cracked as he followed her up the steps. "How have you been doing? I find it boring at school, but I'm glad I have you here now." The statement came out as a drunken confession, one that he would never admit to while sober. Still, he was glad to see Rah again.
Talking color = #6b6385 Italics = native language/not common
Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2025 5:05 am
talking ★ thinking
Farrah heard as Charon lit a cigarette but didn’t turn her head until she saw the orange embers from the corner of her eye. She had tried them a handful of times since her teen years and by then knew how to do it without choking on the smoke. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she inhaled and she handed it back to him. Her title was her title, but she didn’t mind the way he used it. It didn’t feel so formal coming out of his mouth. ”Oh don’t act like you’re not just a teeny bit curious too, Charbear (pronouncing as Carebear).” She couldn’t help but to laugh a little as she felt his shoulder hit hers.
He was a sight for sore eyes and had she been younger she would have tackled him with a hug like she used to. She turned her head and peered up at him as he insisted his ghosts would be different. What kind of ghosts would it be then? They both fought in the war, but also knowing what he and his family did for Shahiti, Rah imagined his brand of ghosts would be on a different level than the ones taken out on the block that was supposed to be there. She studied Charon’s face for a bit longer before turning back to watch where she was going. If she made it out of their crazy little adventure without a mishap it’d be the first time in a while for her.
She played along and returned the bow with a slight curtsy and a quiet laugh. ”Thank you, kind sir.” The feeling of his fingers catching her hair had her pause for a second. Had Charon been anyone else his hand would have been removed if not slapped away and it’d be the only warning. Instead she leaned slightly into the tingling sensation that came with his hands and flashed a smile before brushing past him.
Her brows lifted as he made mention of his tattoo work. She’d always admired the ones he had as they were beautiful pieces of work that she could never have, and not because she was a princess. Having regenerative blood coursing under her skin made sure of that. Maybe if he was trying something new, that could change. ”New? Like how? Do you need any help with that?” Rah volunteered. Him turning the question back on her brought a couple of pieces to mind. ”The usual stuff, but…!” Her tone had a slight lift to it as her feet hit the second floor landing. She moved out of the way then turned to face the stairwell to watch Charon. He seemed capable of walking just fine but if he had been drinking, she didn't want him to fall.
“I’m practicing how to fold patterns into steel. So far it’s coming out great.” Farrah felt along her backside then reached under her hoodie to pull out a small, sheathed dagger made of Damascus steel. Both arms jutted out toward Charon with the piece in her hands for him to check out.
The walls of the second floor and of the third floor mezzanine were lined with iron bar doors. In the middle of the large room stood the eerie main attraction with a broken staircase that led people to the top, usually where their last words were uttered. The whole area looked no different than the rest of the place, gritty and trashed with shadows lurking all around.
And yet Farrah was barely paying any mind to it. Charon’s question along with his drunken confession took up that space. She blinked softly while she gnawed on the inside of her cheek. There were things she could enthuse or vent about to many people, but there weren’t many that she really bloomed around. Xena and Richie, her sister and brother, were two of those people. The man in front of her that she’d called a friend for many years now? Him too, no second thoughts. Rah holded her arms over her chest. ”It’s been a lot, but I’m okay. Utopia isn’t as fun as I hoped it’d be. I nearly killed one of my partners during the art project. But it’s a huge improvement compared to the past few years…” She exhaled and wondered how much he knew, or if Charon knew at all, about her time in Chronos. He was one of the people that filled her conscious thoughts.
Farrah could only look at Charon with a straight face and glassy eyes for so long before closing the space between them to give him a tight hug around his upper arms. Her friend’s words struck a chord in her in a way that if she didn’t, the alternative was having a weak and weepy Martian on his hands and no one wanted to see that. She could smell the cigarette smoke and distilled spirit that mingled with the one she remembered belonged to him. After a moment she loosened her arms. He may have been bigger but it didn’t stop her from worrying she squeezed him too tight. “I’m glad you’re here too Charon.” Rah let out truthfully. ”If we’re going to be stuck here a while, at least it gets to be with you here too.”
”What about you... how are you? How long have you been here, by the way?” Rah lifted her head to look back up at him.
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Town - Abandoned City Jail ★ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ: Charon ★ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: Xena, Richie, Adelaide (not by name) ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:oversized black hoodie, tank top and pants, boots, necklace ★ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ: 'Darn it Charbear, You don't know what that means to me crying '
Outfit [x] Profile [x] Location: Jail With: Rah Thoughts: Ghosts, as if OOC:
Charon watched as Rah took a hit of his cigarette, remembering a time when she would cough up her lungs and he would make fun of her. It seems like he had now corrupted her a little too well, as she hit the bud with an ease that came with practice. He chuckled at her nickname and shook his head. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me Charbear anymore?" he had agreed; she never said anything. Still, the familiar nickname made him smile, even briefly, before nodding to her words. He was curious about what they would find in the building, but that didn't mean he would do this without her.
Instead, he ignored the question about the kind of ghosts that would haunt him. Rah knew more about him than just anyone else. She probably even guessed that he drank to keep his mind fuzzy and off of the things that he wished he could do to those around him. His family was built for wartime, always having plenty of prisons to take out their frustrations on. Now that the war was over, his clan had lost its purpose, and without that, his mind ran through idle scenarios. They played over in his head, not as a nightmare but as a compulsion to work more. He wanted to perfect his interrogation technique, but couldn't do this during peacetime. So, he drank and got high and hoped that one day the war would start again.
"If you are willing to help, Rah, I'm trying to figure out how to make an automatic tattoo machine. One that allows for multiple needles to pierce the skin. I'm wondering if I can add my blood to ink and control the tattoos on someone else and my own." If anyone could figure it out, it would be Farrah. She had a mind for these things, unlike him.
He shrugged once, his body swaying as she quickly spun. It wasn't that he was spinning; instead, his world shifted as she did. However, the blade that was being shoved into his hands was something that made him grin. "Rah, you have already made a name for yourself and are still trying to improve your craft. I admire that." Of course, he admired that, as he too was trying to refine his craft. If he couldn't continue his work as an interagator, he might as well continue to enhance his powers.
Which is why it almost felt weird walking into the execution room of the prison. His job was to keep his victims alive for long enough that they might be executed in a place like this. He never really thought about his career and what the step after his was, but now it was right before him, and he wondered what it must have been like for them. Maybe they greeted Death like a welcome mercy after he was done with them?
He was listening to her talk about almost killing some of their classmates, which wasn't exactly news to him. He was shocked to hear that there weren't deaths at the school, or at least not a couple of fights. Going from a forever war to the children of royals being forced into the same grounds was asking for trouble. He would have put a lot of money on someone getting maimed during every class.
However, the hug was what truly shocked him. The more petite girl pulled him close. A smile tugged at his lips, remembering all of their time together. When she pulled back just enough for him to get his arms out from his side, he slowly petted her face with the back of his fingers."I've been here for a few weeks. I didn't exactly want to show up; my father had to bribe me." Which was code for cutting him off for drinking his wealth away. "However, if it means I get to see you more, I'm happy I came."
Charon tried to tuck the girl under his chin, wanting to hold her close again. However, her boots made her too tall. With a curse, he stepped back and glared at her shoes. "I hate your boots," was all he muttered before grabbing Rah's hand instead. "Come on, are we going to explore or what? He pulled out his lighter to flip it open and close. It was his nervous habit, but it helped ground him regarding Farrah. She was, well, Farrah. There was no need to get it twisted in his drunken state.
Talking color = #6b6385 Italics = native language/not common
Posted: Sun Sep 28, 2025 2:25 pm
talking ★ thinking
Farrah shot him back a look and a cheeky grin while innocently rocking on her heels. She might have recalled a conversation about the use of the intentionally cute nickname but the details were blurry. Or so she’d allege. If he ever truly wanted her to stop she would but until that day he was stuck with it like a tattoo. There was nothingness from him on her questions about his ghosts, but it was still an answer and loud enough in its own way that she didn’t push further. She looked over him with a softened gaze. Charon was, in a sense, already haunted by the part of himself that went away when the war ended. And for as much as that problem-solving part of her brain wanted to come up with a solution that would give him back the interrogations and less reasons to drink, it’d be all for naught. He, like her, had to stay at Utopia.
So when he mentioned the tattoo machine, it was comforting to hear he found a different passion to focus on. He was covered in tattoos, some made of ink and others of shadow from his homeland. Rah listened intently to what Charon had in mind. “You know I would be.” Rah crinkled her nose with a grin. Giving this device a way to use multiple needles at once came immediately; she could fuse the blunt end of needles together in her sleep. Her hands started to imitate the tapping motions she remembered from Stilicidum and her brows furrowed as she tried to think of something that could make it ‘automatic’ for him. Something that could crank, similar to an egg beater? She didn’t like the idea of that the longer she thought about it. The rest of his idea was going to require more thought.
“But you don’t need a machine to try out your blood idea. It sounds interesting. I don’t see why it couldn’t possibly work.” Farrah gave a shrug of her shoulder. Her own blood could heal the wounds of others, and Xena could make someone go berserk with a strategic touch. Control though? That made her wonder too, so much so that she threw back a suggestion that just had to sound crazy. “You haven’t tried yet, have you? I might know someone with a very forgiving canvas.” Rah offered with a knowing look.
Eyes lit up and a flash of embarrassment crossed her features at Charon’s complement. Rah rolled her lips in and made a nod before speaking up herself. “I’ll say the same for you and what you’re trying to do with your tattoos. I hope it works, or if not you find a way to make it work, Charbear.” They were words she meant, more than she figured they let on. During all of this, his swaying did not go unnoticed. The inebriation. When she came at him to show off the knife, he swayed. ‘Slow down before you hurt him.’
She got an idea. It might end up only as a temporary fix, but it was better than nothing. Rah held out her hand and looked up at Charon, her fingers wiggling as she made her request. She saw him with it earlier. “Your flask, please sir.”
The feel of his petting on her face caused the skin underneath his fingers to tingle in such a pleasant way. The smile that formed faltered briefly to the sound of him saying he’d been at Utopia for weeks and it turned into a brief pout. She didn’t know Charon was there, but then again he had not realized until that day she was at Utopia either. It was quickly gotten over. Like her father, Charon’s had a way of getting him to comply. “It was Utopia with my sister and brother or full-time royal duties.” She said with a disgruntled sigh at the thought of the latter. Her father didn’t even have to say it; the war was over so the only other option was to help with representing Mars and helping to forge more and stronger alliances. That was just to start. Farrah smiled back at him. Utopia had been the far better option despite the school’s bizarre incidences.
Farrah had to laugh a little at the look he made at her boots and the utterance she barely caught just after. She looked down at her boots and tapped them together. But before she could offer some comforting words for him or defense for her bullied footwear, she felt her hand fill with Charon’s. The warmth and gentle pressure from his hand was certainly something she didn’t mind and her fingers curled back around the side. There was a safe familiarity to it and it had her wondering if it’d always felt that way or if that were something new. Either way, she wasn’t going to let go until there was a need.
Toward the back wall on the opposite side was an open staircase that led to the third mezzanine. He still wanted to explore. Good, she still wanted to as well. With that she led the way and took a hold of the railing with her other hand, careful to move slower than she had been for his sake. Once at the top, she was able to get a better view of the cells that lined that wall. The bars were different, and more resembled lattice work made from flat strips of metal that were rusting. Rah put a couple of fingers through the square holes knowing her smaller, entire hand wasn’t going to fit. “Someone said these were where they kept the ones waiting to be executed…” she thought aloud. She looked over to him with a small smile, and took notice of the nearby door before looking through the holes to the inside. “And that door leads to where the lifers stayed.”
Rah stepped back to Charon and turned to look at him, red eyes pinched with interest for what was going on in that head of his. She knew this was a place similar to his line of work, but with the war ending and how that panned out, maybe this was more than just sight-seeing for him. But how to ask? If he would even say anything. Her free hand rested on his shoulder and she leaned her cheek into it in a sort of quiet hug to the arm she still had her other hand connected to.
Directly in front of the top of the staircase they climbed was another heavy door that was slightly ajar. Scratched into the metal in jagged capital letters was a warning. DO NOT ENTER. Behind it was another set of stairs. What she had not noticed earlier was something the other doors didn’t have around them. A taut, short length of fraying rope that peeked out in the space between the doorframe and the top of the door. The ground between the door and the top of the staircase was narrow. If something were to activate by the act of pushing the door open, accidents were bound to happen if one weren’t careful.
“Lets go up there. It’s the last floor.” Rah started and pulled away from him, moving toward the door.
OOC: Soooo what's on the other side of the door would be a booby trap. When the door opens, a chair would fall from above in a way that it could knock someone down or scare them into falling down the stairs. Full creative freedom with this, Books biggrin This and the whole scenario if I hadn't said that before!
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