Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28412230-20170621183025/@comment-26854056-20170624234741

Elijah paced the hallway, looking through each of the rooms one by one.

All of the rooms were near identical, with little to no furniture, albeit a tiny nightstand and two seperate twin beds from opposite ends of the room, the clean minimalist style of the quarters near identical to a priest's dwelling. Although both time and humidity had taken the toll on the room, the furniture was suprisingly clean and obviously well taken care of, despite the black mould that decorated the walls.

Names and date stamps of past victims were etched into the wood of the bed frame, memoirs of long forgotten souls in a dire attempt to leave their mark on a world. Just looking at the bed frame made his heart tremble as he ran his fingers around the name "Duck Treolark" that was freshly scrawled in a child's handwriting on the top of the bedframe. She died aged just thirteen.

With a shaky sigh, he gathered himself back to his senses, taking in the rest of the surroundings of the room. A small diary that had loopy cursive writing written carefully at the front was hidden under the mattress, which, of course, he took to inspect later. Not without disturbing a nest of spiders that made their home underneath the woodwork, of course.

He withdrew his hand in disgust, but kept his grip on the diary firm, abruptly shoving it into his bag. All the rooms seemed safe enough to settle into, the pang of satisfaction that he had by just knowing that fact pleasing him for a moment as he slipped back out of the final room, rejoining the others at the center of the chapel.