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Feb. 4th, 2018 03:45 pmThere is something undeniably strange going on in the studio, but even after weeks of observation, Marcus and Ed haven't quite been able to figure it out.
It's not demonic, he feels fairly sure in that assessment, so they both seem to be leaning toward a ghost of some kind, but trying to put their fingers on exactly what is happening just seems to be impossible. So far it's not as if anything truly frightening has happened. They'd come to the studio in December to find their canvasses blank, but beyond the occasional moving objects and the shifting of paintings neither of them can deny, it's been relatively quiet since then.
Marcus isn't a medium, he can't enter a room and sense things the way he knows Ed's wife was capable, but he likes to think if anything dangerous was really going on here, he would be able to notice. And yet, dangerous or not, there is something here. Something he hasn't yet been able to determine or get rid of. And whether he wants to admit it or not, sometimes he gets a sense of waiting. As if there's something hanging in the air, just hovering there, readying itself for the right time.
Whatever that might mean.
He's made no secret of the studio, though, both Dutch and Matthias know where they can find him if he's not at his apartment or at the Children's Home. He's only just arrived and draped his jacket over a chair when the easel and canvas he'd set up the night before topples over. Heaving a sigh, Marcus rights the entire thing, then turns his back to reach for his charcoal and hears the easel tip over once again.
"Really?" he asks the empty air, holding a bit of charcoal between his fingers. At the same time there's a knock on the door and he stares at the easel for a moment longer before going to see who it is.
It's not demonic, he feels fairly sure in that assessment, so they both seem to be leaning toward a ghost of some kind, but trying to put their fingers on exactly what is happening just seems to be impossible. So far it's not as if anything truly frightening has happened. They'd come to the studio in December to find their canvasses blank, but beyond the occasional moving objects and the shifting of paintings neither of them can deny, it's been relatively quiet since then.
Marcus isn't a medium, he can't enter a room and sense things the way he knows Ed's wife was capable, but he likes to think if anything dangerous was really going on here, he would be able to notice. And yet, dangerous or not, there is something here. Something he hasn't yet been able to determine or get rid of. And whether he wants to admit it or not, sometimes he gets a sense of waiting. As if there's something hanging in the air, just hovering there, readying itself for the right time.
Whatever that might mean.
He's made no secret of the studio, though, both Dutch and Matthias know where they can find him if he's not at his apartment or at the Children's Home. He's only just arrived and draped his jacket over a chair when the easel and canvas he'd set up the night before topples over. Heaving a sigh, Marcus rights the entire thing, then turns his back to reach for his charcoal and hears the easel tip over once again.
"Really?" he asks the empty air, holding a bit of charcoal between his fingers. At the same time there's a knock on the door and he stares at the easel for a moment longer before going to see who it is.
