Upstairs

Dreamless Realm

Dreamless Realm

Restless writer
Benefactor
Life on the Edge GM
Pronouns
They/them
The upstairs hallway is long, with wooden floors and long blue carpets. It connects almost every room in the upper floor, as well as the Terrace.

The Upstairs living room is has wooden floors and a big, blue square carpet. There's one sofa, a coffee table, two armchairs, some ornments and a tv on a stand. The windows look to the outside.

The White Bedroom is a regular room with carpet floor and a single bed. There's a nightstand, a dresser under the bed, a standing mirror, a lamp, a dresser and a desk. The windows look to the front of the house. It shares a bathroom with the Green Bedroom.

The Green Bedroom is a regular room with carpet floor and a single top bunk bed. There's a nightstand, a dresser under the bed, a standing mirror, a lamp, a chest for storage next to the dresser and a desk. The windows look to the front of the house.

The Red Bedroom is a small room with carpet floor. It has one bed, a nightstand with a lamp and one old dresser. There's also a standing mirror and a chest for storage. The window looks to the terrace.

The Blue Bedroom is a regular room with carpet flooor. There is a bunk bed that has a double bed as the bottom bunk. There's two dressers, one green armchair, one standing mirror, a chest for storage and a little dollhouse. The windows look to the terrace and the garden.

The Pink Bedroom is a regular room with carpet floor and a single bed. There's a nightstand, a dresser, a standing mirror, a lamp, a chest for storage and a desk. The windows look to the outside and to the garden.

The Terrace is a big space with a partial roof. It has white wooden boards for a floor. There's a few well cared for plants, a chess table and set and some more seats as well as an improvised table made out of wood boards. Not very well kept. Around it all there is a white railing with cigarette burn marks here and there. It oversees most of the garden and lets you see into the neighbors' garden as well.
 
"We cleared our morning to help you adjust, so anything you may need feel free to tell us. This way." Said Lukais' as he led the Dark in. He explained to them what the living room and the music room were, before he continued to accompany them upstairs.

Ishade was mostly quiet, looking back. He didn't know if Mitch would follow, but he still wanted to talk to him afterward. And where was Ikanov? Hiding away in his study? Having breakfast? Snuck over the fence into the neighbors' garden to avoid them entirely. Except the last one wasn't possible because Mrs. Dunham's dogs were noisy.

"If you'd like something to eat, I'm sure some of the other tennant's are having breakfast at the moment. Though we'll most likely see you for lunch. And we'll definitely see you at dinner, right?" Said Luka, turning as he led the others down the hall toward the blue bedroom. It was a nice room, with plenty of light, two dressers and a small dollhouse. It had been... Someone else's a while ago. He'd have to ask Ishade where he had it stashed, actually, because he hadn't seen the thing in years. It looked fine after some cleaning and a fresh coat of paint and varnish though. If it hadn't ended up here, it would have probably been given away to someone in the neighborhood.
 
"No, really, you need not help." Dark replied, if he was being honest with himself (which he was desperately attempting not to be), it was about agency and control. He wanted to put his things where he desired to put them and not risk someone being too curious and peeking into boxes of his belongings. There was nothing he was ashamed of, and nothing illegal, but he needed it to remain private. But he could not quite accept this, and was politely deluding himself into believing he was just making it easier on his new landlord.

"Oh we had breakfast," Ivy explained, "Baba bought us donuts. He didn't even make us eat eggs with them or anything."

"But we will come to dinner," Dark agreed, and let his daughter enter their new room first.

She looked around, with her hands on her hips--almost certainly a pose she adopted from watching her parents--and said, "Yes. This will do. Which bed is mine?"

"You get the bunk bed. I do not think I would fit," Dark told her, and entered the room cautiously, as if it was a mirage ready to dissolve into something far less amiable. The set up was a nice place to build a blanket fort like he had promised, presuming it held. At last, he set the box down on one of the dressers, and the soft thud rang out with an air of finality, causing him to rest his hand on the surface of the dresser, feeling rather suddenly weighed down. Then he breathed, and adjusted the box to the most pleasing angle he could find, and thanked the brothers again.

"Ah, Baba, there's a dollhouse! But, I think it's too small for all of my dolls."

"I'll make you new ones." Setting this goal, which made Ivy beam, and immediately start describing what sorts of dolls she think she would enjoy (including one with three eyes and one with lizard scales), seemed to put a bit more life into Dark, and he ran a hand threw his hair. As he did so, his sleeve pulled back a bit, revealing a bit of his wrist which perhaps... no, definitely, was brightly coloured and heavily patterned. But then he adjusted his shirt, and his tie, and seemed finally ready to be present in this new environment, because he had to make his daughter new dolls for the dollhouse inside their room.

He turned again to the brothers, and despite his stronger resolve, maintained the same, neutral expression and strong stare, and said, "I think we are going to bring our belongings inside, and then if you would be so kind as to show us the rest of the house?"
 
The blanket fort would be fun, because it could be made using the top bunk as partial support. So the results could end up being really creative and interesting.

Ishade and Lukais' watched the Dark interact, the former with his arms folded over his chest and showing more interest in the details. Like the one moment when Mr. Dark's sleeve was pulled back, the small box and it's mysterious contents and whether Ivy liked the doll house he had renovated for her. The latter watched with a small, smile and his hands on his hips. He was proud of this room, getting it ready the week before had been quite energy consuming, but Luka was happy with the results.

"We have a couple of friends nearby who own a toy store. They do custom work if you'd like to get in contact with them?. I don't doubt your ability to make dolls, but they are quality professionals" Suggested Ishade, who collected mythical creature figurines in his study. The latest was some sacrilegious angel-like calamity. He only got these very detailed pieces when he had the money for them, his own money. They were very nice, but he did get a discount because he preferred to hand paint them himself. All in all, Luka was surprised to see his brother making any attempts at socialising at all.

"And we'll be happy to show you around the house in a bit, once you are done with your belongings. Ishade is always quite busy, but I'll be typing downstairs in the music room if you need me." Said Lukais, giving them a smile. And if they didn't need anything else they'd leave.
 
Dark's eyebrows came slightly together upon being told about 'quality professionals' and he pressed his lips together--the most his expression had altered since his arrival, even if it was only just noticeable, "My dear sir," he said, "I do not doubt the workmanship of your friends, but I assure you I require no aid."

"Baba makes most of my toys," Ivy said, now testing out the double bed, "he makes all sorts of things. And nobody ever steals my toys because everybody can tell they're mine, because they don't look like the boring normal dolls you get at the store. I mean, I have some of the boring normal dolls, because I like when the boring normal people get to play with the witches and octopus people, but nobody wants to steal an octopus person. But Sandra M., at school, always said I was weird and once she broke my favourite doll that Baba made me-- it had two heads and this tiny little third arm--because she said it was ugly and creepy, and that I was creepy, and dolls should be pretty and normal, but Mama always says you don't have to be pretty to be good, which is why I don't like The Wizard of Oz."

Dark turned to his daughter, "You certainly have a lot to say this morning."

"It's because you gave me sugar for breakfast. You're not supposed to do that, you know."

"Hm."
 
Lukais did his best not to react when Mr. Dark was less than amused by his brother's recommendation. He knew the toymakers, they were in the craft out of vocation and not money. They were also pretty good. Ishade must have said out of good faith only, and without thinking it bothersome. But Luka had to cover his mouth for a moment, amused, because the scowl on Ishade's face when he was addressed as - my dear sir- by Mr. Dark was hilarious.

"Do Not call me sir, for the love of God..." Said Ishade, unfolding his arms as he had been.

"Anyway, it was just a recommendation, didn't mean nothing by it. I have better things to do other than being here and listen to you talk about needing no help with anything ever. See you at dinner." Said Ishade with a snap. Lukais' amusement was killed on the spot. He saw it, and he saw the disappointment in his brother's face, but Ishade had had enough. He had been up early, dressed up nicely, and now this guy wanted to get mad. His dolls were probably ugly anyway, and Ishade knew he'd regret this later and that he was also being childish. At least the kid had some good... Monologue material. Weird was cool, Ishade liked weird. He'd actually like to see those custom dolls sometime. But not now. He left the room and rushed down the stairs.

Luka sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"I apologise on his behalf, he's not been getting as much sleep as he should. That and he's a bit peculiar, a bit of an eccentric. I'll talk to him Mr. Dark. And I'm sure your dolls are fantastic, Ivy, anyone who calls you weird for it they don't know what they are missing." He spoke quickly, nervous.

"I'll leave you to unpack and be around whenever you're ready to see the house." With that he left the room, wondering what the hell he had done to start his day like this, already rocky and because of Ishade's attitude no less.
 
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Dark did not reply to Ishade, because he did not quite feel like picking a fight with one of the owners of his new home on his very first day, even if he did feel justified in his response to the implication his work was not 'quality' and that his daughter would be better served by so-called professionals, as if he could not himself provide for her. The fact is, he did not desire help, because everyone had already decided, or seemed to have decided, that he could only provide "adequate" care for his child, and someone else would always be superior to him, a notion he simply would not allow.

But he nonetheless attempted to be understanding, and when Luka apologized for his brother, he waved it off, and said, "We like peculiar and eccentric... and we have had a long morning too. I hope to not have caused strife."

When Luka left, Dark sat down on the bed... on his bed, and hugged Ivy tight. He hand wanted to say something, wanted to tell his little girl that everything would be alright, and that they would only stay here for a little while, but she seemed more okay than he was, because she was resilient like her mother, and she was excited to get away from all the kids at school who bullied her, and because there were promises of secret passages to be discovered and explored. And, Dark hoped, because she knew her father was going to do everything he could for her, and she didn't need to worry about what was going to happen next, because she was never dangling.

So all he said was, "I love you, Hummingbird," and after a little while, he pulled away, and said he was going to start bringing their things inside, if she would like to come help.
 
Hearing the commotion downstairs, Dark peaks out the window, and decides to not, at this moment, go to his car to begin getting his things, and instead sits down with his daughter and jokes with her, because he doesn't really want her to be a witness to everything happening out on the street. He keeps the windows open, however, because he doesn't want to quickly close them and make Ivy think there is definitely something wrong.
 
A good few hours after the last time he'd been upstairs, Luka found himself knocking on the Blue bedroom's door. The house smelled like warm food, he was a bit more calm, if a bit stressed still.

"Mr. Dark? Ivy? Dinner is ready!" He said, not wanting to come in or even open the door. He always liked to wait for the other person to be the one who took the first step beyond knocking. He had yet to explain the bell to them after all, so it was only natural he'd come fetch them himself. He hoped they liked stew... But what if they generally liked stew and then didn't like his stew?!
 
Hearing the knock, Dark exited the blanket fort he and Ivy had carefully crafted on the bed, and opened the door. Behind him, spready out across the two dressers, meticulously placed, was an entire miniature wooden carnival. With the exception of the wooden box, which now had a framed photograph of a blonde woman set beside it, the tops of both dressers were completely covered by tiny rides, games, food stalls, and tiny people. Every person looked different, too, not only in their hair, eye, and skin colours, but in the shapes of their faces. Some had freckles, some had scars, one boy working the popcorn stand had acne, and their faces were not only painted on, but carefully carved, so they had actual noses and smiles. The rides, also painted, even had tiny little wooden bolts in all the correct places, and placed on the sides of booths were little posters displaying the freak show performers (the Bearded Lady, the Pretzel Woman, the Dog Boy, a mermaid, and so many more) and "Oddities from Around the World!" Not a detail was missed, and everything was placed with such care, that although the ground beneath the wooden creations was only the top of a dresser, the mind could imagine pathways, and indeed, little couples and families with strollers made their way down them. Here was one young girl winning hoop-toss--with one hoop carefully suspended in mid-air through clever use of fishing lure--and there was a man failing at the strength contest, and in the back, two elderly women sat arm-in-arm at the top of the Ferris Wheel, while closer to the front, Carousel horses stood at attention.

And amongst it all, with nothing placed atop it, was the box, and the photograph. If one was being polite, she was not an extremely attractive woman. If someone was being rude, but honest, she was ugly. It may be true beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but most who looked at the picture would be hard pressed to call the woman in it pretty. Sure, her unfocused eyes were lovely, the shade of the afternoon sky, when summer is just fading into autumn, and her smile was lovely, but none of her features quite fit together. It was as if someone had clipped pictures out of a magazine and glued them together, without taking a thought to even consider placement, because her face, also, was extremely asymmetrical.

Yet, somehow, Ivy (who, upon the door being opened, stuck only her head outside of the blanket fort, and was by all accounts a very pretty young lady) looked so much like her. Their eyes were the same hue, and they had the same smile, and all of the features which somehow looked haphazardly dropped onto the woman in the photograph seemed to fall rather perfectly on Ivy, although it may well have been because she also bore a striking resemblance to her father, and perhaps had enough of his more... fortunate genes to provide balance.

"Ah, thank you for telling us," Dark said, as Ivy wiggled out of the blankets, and came up beside him. Sometime since she had last been seen, her long, inky hair had been pulled back into a five strand braid.
 
At the sight, Lukais smiled. He didn't like seeing the rooms messy or empty. It was worse when they were empty, like they'd been for decades years ago. Void and cold, the scarce furniture covered in blankets to keep the dust away. The courtains closed, barely letting the sun in.

Now they were lived in, decorated, used. They accommodated different kinds of people and subtly changed for every one of them. Their rooms were comfort, safety and a home.

"No problem, It's good to see you've made yourselves at home!. I'll see you in a bit." He said to the both of them. It made him happy and softened the blow from earlier events, to see everything in order. He would either wait for them if they were immediately coming or go back down the stairs on his own, swiftly, he was more than a bit hungry.
 
Dark promised they would be down in just a moment, but they had to wash their hands first, and so as Luka headed downstairs, Dark and Ivy quickly popped over into the bathroom to wash their hands. Dark also took a moment, after washing and drying his hands, to reapply the foundation and powder he used to hide the tattoos on the back of his hands, because he remained uncertain if his new landlords would take issue with them, and therefore him. His plan was to hide them until he knew he had been fully integrated into the household, and little things like ink beneath the skin wouldn't alter much, and then reveal them. And hopefully it would be soon, because, frankly, he hated going through the hassle of hiding them. He was rather proud of them, to say the absolute least.
 
The long-haired man stepped out onto the white wooden paneling of the terrace, and looked out over the horizon as the sun was nearing the end of its set. Under Mitch's arm was a dark, wooden case; clearly aged, but still in quite decent condition, with few marks. It was a hot summer night, but pleasant enough to be able to sit comfortably in the heat. The panels below his feet squeaked as he stepped over to a chair that sat along the white railing, overlooking the garden. He plopped down with a tired sigh.

Mitch took the wooden case and placed it along his lap, inspecting it for a moment. He had been hard at work with this, but... His hands fidgeted with the clasps on the front of the case, and he reached under the case to find a mechanism that would... Nope. Damn it. It still wasn't doing exactly what it should. Mitch grumbled exasperatedly and forcefully knocked the case back, brute-forcing it open. The hinges swung out and the contents shook about inside the case as the brackets locked the case open. Just a few more tweaks, maybe.

He reached into the case and pulled out a pre-rolled joint, the smell of herb emanating from the box, and he twisted the cigarette in his hand. He grabbed a Zippo lighter from the case as well. The Zippo had an emblem on the side of a brown bear. It had seen many years of use, but was in good condition. He held the cigarette up to his mouth and flicked the Zippo, sparks flying from the head and a steady flame burning the twisted-off paper at the end of the joint as Mitch took a long, steady draw from it. He let the smoke sit in his mouth and lungs for a calm, quiet ten seconds and exhaled slowly, the smoke flowing and spreading across the terrace. The warm, toasty feeling spread across his chest, and the cerebral calmness spread throughout him. Mitch could finally let his nerves settle and let his brain gradually come to a rest.
 
Ivy had been sitting back within the blanket fort, with her flashlight hung up like a chandelier, just as was promised, wearing her pajamas, and reading Anne of Green Gables. It was her newest book. Her father had just taken her to a bookstore a few days ago, and it was the one she picked. She was trying to keep him from realizing she was already almost finished with it, because she hadn't even had it for a week, but also she knew there were other books in the series, and she wouldn't have a reason to get the next book if he thought she was still reading the first one. But if she finished it too quickly, he'd probably still make her wait. He always said it wasn't a punishment, he just didn't have time to take her to the bookstore or the library just yet, and it got even harder to find the time after Mama had all the doctor appointments. But at least then, between Mama and Baba, one of them could usually find the time to take her to the bookstore or the library within a week. Now it was only Baba, and every day she would be surprised to learn if it was a day where he was going to do everything she wanted, or if he was too busy with some adult thing he tried to explain but just sounded like a waste of time.

Maybe she should stop reading for the night so she didn't finish it too soon. Just in case he was too busy to take her to get a new book again. Or at least she could read one of the other ones she had. So, she emerged from the fort, and then, out the window, saw that man who traveled a bunch fiddling with a box. She couldn't remember his name. She stood in the window watching him, and then slipped from her room, and opened the door to the terrace, although had not stepped out onto it yet, because she was told not to be alone with any of the other adults in the house. If she was inside, and the man-who-travelled was outside, they were not alone together, anymore than they were alone together when she was still in her room.

"Hello, it's Ivy," She said, "I think that box is cool."
 
Mitch was in the middle of his second drag when he heard the voice of the 10-year-old Ivy at the doorway. He quickly exhaled the smoke from that drag, and cleared his throat as it burned on the way up. Mitch looked over to Ivy.

"Oh, thank you. It's still not working the way I want it to, but it's a fun little project for the meantime." He said, his voice somewhat nervous. This wasn't good. Mitch had no idea where Dark stood on marijuana, and even if he was okay with it, he probably didn't want Mitch smoking in front of her. He kept quiet after his brief explanation. He had no idea how to even continue; he couldn't keep smoking but he had no idea what to say.
 
"Can I see it?" She asked, staying firmly on the inside of the threshold. Because that way she wasn't alone with him. "And, I don't mean, you know, look at it from a distance. I already did that. And you can't say 'look with your eyes' because blind people look with their hands. You can say no and everything, it's just it's unfair to say 'look with your eyes.'"

She knew he was smoking something, obviously, and it smelled kind of like her Uncle Cooger, but she was mostly interested in the box, "I can show you Baba's carousel." That was a fair trade. She may even get the worse side, because Baba's carousel worked. It didn't look like the box worked.
 
Mitch was quiet for a moment, in a brief panic as he considered what to do. He looked down at the box and placed a hand on it. He hummed for a moment. "Well, if I let you see it, you can't go around showing everybody," Mitch finally said. "Er, you know, since I can't have everybody knowin' how to get into it. Makes a secret mechanism kinda pointless, yeah?" After the awkward explanation, Mitch smiled politely. "And I'd love to take a look at the carousel as well.

Mitch closed the case and latched it back up. He was fairly confident that it wouldn't be too easy to break into in its current stage, but the mechanism still isn't fully optimized, either. He put the case on the floor and gingerly slid it across the floor over to Ivy. "The mechanism is not quite as it looks. It's not like your typical suitcase with the two latches. The problem is that the latch works fine, but the spring-launch that is supposed to open the case isn't quite triggering." He wasn't even really sure why he was explaining this; it's not as if she would give him guidance in mechanical engineering.
 
Her eyes lit up, and she excitedly picked up the box, "I bet Baba could make it work," she said, "he made a really nifty box for Mama. She helped decide what's on the sides, and then he made a second one, and they fit together, but the second one is gonna be empty for a really long time. Or that's what he said, anyway," Ivy paused, and sadly added, "I hope he's right," before smiling again as she turned it over in her hands, fiddling with the mechanisms, "I thought it was a puzzle. Mama's box is a puzzle. Why is it secret?"

She could slide the latches and mess with the secret latch, but the man was right when he said it didn't work. She guessed she knew it didn't, she had seen him not be able to do it, but she still hoped she'd manage to get it to work when she tried. After looking at it for a little while, she set it down and slid it back, because that was how it was passed to her.

"I'm going to go get the carousel, so you can see it. It actually works," she said, and hurried into her room, and shortly after returned with the intricately painted wooden carousel, "I can't slide this to you, though, because it has the turn handle underneath. I named all the horses. The white and blue one is my favourite, his name is Arion. But Mama said that horse had a black mane, but I don't know how she would know that."
 
Mitch took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully at the least. "Well, I like my privacy. Sometimes people take my stuff, and I need to be sure that they can't get into it." Mitch laughed weakly. "So, as far as whether it works, I guess it does work, because not even I can get it to open properly."

Mitch reached down and put a hand on the case as it was slid back to him, making sure that it stayed stable and nothing inside of it got knocked over. As Ivy left to grab the carousel, he slid the case out of sight; hopefully that will put it out of the conversation for the future. He also took another drag off of the joint because, well, at this point there wasn't much left to lose, right?

Mitch twisted his face in an embarrassed smile. Why was he taking a ten year old's words personally when it came to his craftsmanship? "I, uh, I'll come over and look at it. I won't step across the doorway or anything." If she was taking the rules from her father this seriously, he may as well follow suit. If she was offering the carnival, he would reach over and take it in his hands, and attempt to crank the turn handle underneath the display.
 
She let him hold it, but when he went to turn the crank, she said, "You have to turn the metal thing at the bottom, and then when you're finished turning it, you have to slide the knob. Then it will start. And be careful." She didn't think he would break it. But she didn't want to get in trouble if he did. He wouldn't get in trouble, grownups never seemed to get into trouble. But she would. Which was unfair, because if she had broken his box, she would have gotten in trouble for that too, even though he let her see it. But if he broke the carousel, she would get in trouble for letting him see it.

When the knob was slid, the platform turned so the horses moved around the base, and, just like on a proper carousel, they went up and down on the poles, while a tin tune played. The craftsmanship was impressive, which was obvious at a distance, but up close it was obvious it was not a recent creation. It was well maintained, certainly, and did not look world-weary or at all dilapidated, but it was somewhat... timeworn. If someone were to look, on the bottom of the base was carved "G.M.D. 1940" in a strong, flowing script.

As always, Ivy was deeply impressed by her father's creation, but this time, as the carousel horses danced around to Beethoven's 9th Symphony, she only stared expectantly at Mitch, anxious to see his reaction.
 
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