"Here's a gift and here's your task: find a fellow in a mask!"
After four days of that singsong voice chiming in from his phone, from the intercom, from everywhere, Carlisle has had enough. He tried arguing with the communicator that he is wearing a mask and therefore qualifies for the answer, only to be giggled at; he buried his device and the necklace in a drawer and ignored them for an entire day, only for the voice to start blaring through every intercom he passed. He hid in the park, away from most of the technology, only to hear the laughter and rhymes echoing from the levels above.
"Hey, here is another clue: go find a guy somewhat like you!"
It was as maddening as it was inescapable.
So here he is, phone back in his satchel and necklace hanging on the outside, finally looking for someone who even vaguely fits the clues he's been given so he can get the peace and quiet he so desperately wants. The device beeps at him, faster and faster as he nears the bar, coming to a sudden stop the second he crosses the threshold; however, it's not the sweet relief of silence that gives him pause. Carlisle feels a familiar tingling at the back of his neck, a chill that shoots through his fingers, up his arms, into his shoulders, and down his spine, landing heavily in his gut. It's identical to what he feels when near the Whole Foods, what he felt upon waking once more in Bear Den.
There is an undead here.
He brings his eyes up, searching the room for who it must be. On this particular night, assuming the construct behind the counter isn't reanimated, there is only one logical option: the sole fellow sitting at the bar, having himself a drink. However, as Carlisle swallows down his immediate fear and steps into the bar, the sensation dissipates. He... he did feel the presence of an undead just now, did he not? Why would he detect one, only for them to vanish?
Untying the necklace from his satchel to give himself some time to think, he gives the stranger a cursory glance. He doesn't look undead from a distance, but appearances can be deceiving. It then crosses Carlisle's mind that his ability to sense them may have, much like the rest of his abilities, shifted with his undeath, and therefore might be a bit unpredictable. His detection of the undead worked as it had previously thus far, but given how many of his prior gifts hadn't since his reawakening... well, it wouldn't be entirely surprising.
He shakes his head as he crosses the room. It's nothing, then. Something to be frustrated about regarding his current state later, but for now, he has a necklace to get rid of, as his phone so casually reminds him with another, single beep.
"Excuse me," he starts, "but I believe I may have something of yours."
Bar
After four days of that singsong voice chiming in from his phone, from the intercom, from everywhere, Carlisle has had enough. He tried arguing with the communicator that he is wearing a mask and therefore qualifies for the answer, only to be giggled at; he buried his device and the necklace in a drawer and ignored them for an entire day, only for the voice to start blaring through every intercom he passed. He hid in the park, away from most of the technology, only to hear the laughter and rhymes echoing from the levels above.
"Hey, here is another clue: go find a guy somewhat like you!"
It was as maddening as it was inescapable.
So here he is, phone back in his satchel and necklace hanging on the outside, finally looking for someone who even vaguely fits the clues he's been given so he can get the peace and quiet he so desperately wants. The device beeps at him, faster and faster as he nears the bar, coming to a sudden stop the second he crosses the threshold; however, it's not the sweet relief of silence that gives him pause. Carlisle feels a familiar tingling at the back of his neck, a chill that shoots through his fingers, up his arms, into his shoulders, and down his spine, landing heavily in his gut. It's identical to what he feels when near the Whole Foods, what he felt upon waking once more in Bear Den.
There is an undead here.
He brings his eyes up, searching the room for who it must be. On this particular night, assuming the construct behind the counter isn't reanimated, there is only one logical option: the sole fellow sitting at the bar, having himself a drink. However, as Carlisle swallows down his immediate fear and steps into the bar, the sensation dissipates. He... he did feel the presence of an undead just now, did he not? Why would he detect one, only for them to vanish?
Untying the necklace from his satchel to give himself some time to think, he gives the stranger a cursory glance. He doesn't look undead from a distance, but appearances can be deceiving. It then crosses Carlisle's mind that his ability to sense them may have, much like the rest of his abilities, shifted with his undeath, and therefore might be a bit unpredictable. His detection of the undead worked as it had previously thus far, but given how many of his prior gifts hadn't since his reawakening... well, it wouldn't be entirely surprising.
He shakes his head as he crosses the room. It's nothing, then. Something to be frustrated about regarding his current state later, but for now, he has a necklace to get rid of, as his phone so casually reminds him with another, single beep.
"Excuse me," he starts, "but I believe I may have something of yours."