soulping | hiyo haato

The house that proclaims itself to be the Iki residence is located amongst a cluster of homes of equal size. Coming up the side walk, you find iron gate separating the front yard from the city street open. The garden out front is well-taken-care-of, filled with small flowering plants and well Japanese topiary. The houses on either side of this residence happen to be quite a bit smaller, but that doesn't mean anything. From here, you can see the sliding front door has been left open. Somehow, you feel like you're being invited, very welcome!

[hesitantly coming into the house, then]

Hello?

[ no sound, no greeting. it feels like it might be empty ]

[going to see if she can go through it to get to the graveyard, then]

[ Passing through the front door, you find yourself on a small stretch of concrete. Raised up in front of you is wooden flooring, gleaming with polish, and a set of cozy slippers posed as though waiting for you. Beyond that, you can see a long hallway leading further into the house, as well as a staircase leading to a second story on the right side of the hallway.

which way will she go? ]

[going to the hallway farther into the house]

The house is quiet and still. As you make your way down the hall, you begin to feel vaguely uncomfortable, as if perhaps you don't belong. It leads you into an ill-lit but spacious living room area. There's an open kitchen to the left, the two areas only being divided by a half-sized kitchen counter. In spite of how large the rooms are, somehow you feel almost claustrophobic in here.

Creepy...

[is the only exit into the kitchen?]

[ correct. there doesn't seem to be a door to the outside ]

[heading into the kitchen, then]

The kitchen is immaculately clean. The space is dominated by a fridge, a large kitchen table, and four chairs pulled up to it, although of course there is a kitchen sink as well, and a clock on the wall above the sink.

(all objects mentioned in here are touchable)

[going to check if there's anything on the table]

There's an open note book with writing on it on top of your place setting.

[leaning over it to see what's written]

[ There's a series of questions written down on the page with space in between each for writing in.

The first question reads: Is having a family really all that important?

If she looks, Natalie will find a pen next to the notebook waiting. ]

[picking up the pen and taking a breath; she has a lot of Feelings about this subject, and she has to think about the best way to put them down

writing the following:]

Yes, but you can pick your own family. It doesn't have to be the one you were born into.

[ there's a shimmer of light, and the second question seems to change and shift a little in response to what she's written. it now reads:

What do you do when the people you want to choose to be your family don't want to be that close? ]

[pausing again before writing: sometimes people put up walls because they're afraid of commitment. keep trying. but if they really don't want to be close... they're not worth your time.]

[ something about the room feels less oppressive. there is still a third question, though:

How do you cope with the people you consider family leaving you? ]

[remember them, and look forward to seeing them again if you'll have that chance.]

[ A tiny goldenbutterfly materializes and hovers close to you. It gives off a faintly warm feeling.

on the paper, a new question appears before you:
Do you have any questions for me? ]

[catching the butterfly, then hesitating once more before writing: why did you want to know? what happened?]

My brother back home left. I think he came back, but I'm not positive.

I want to think of my team as family, but not everyone there feels the same.

The one person who said I was family here seems to be pulling away now.

["I'm sorry... You don't deserve that."]

It's okay. A lot of people have stuff that happens to them that they don't deserve.

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD

Re: THE GRAVEYARD