[KestrelTheFirecat]

username: KestrelTheFirecat
name: Winter
crewmate or imposter?: crewmate
prompt answer: wip

[deerbroken]

username: deerbroken
name: dante
crewmate or imposter?: imposter
prompt answer:
It had always been there. Under the surface, waiting to connect. At a young age, he could see floating eyes and hands in the corners of rooms, but his parents dismissed him, told him he had an overactive imagination. After a time he grew numb to it, wrote it off as nothing but a hallucination out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, they seemed to stop.

He grew up. He changed. Got an average office job, spent his nights alone, staring up at the stars from the terrace of his apartment. It all became so mundane, but the memories of his childhood, of those strange things lurking in dark places loomed over his head. He had not seen a vision of some haunted form in years; He wondered if it had ever truly happened, or if he was trying to play tricks on his parents, his siblings, his friends. The empty sky was blurred with light that night, a consequence of living in the city, but the moon still gave off a soft glow somewhere high on the horizon. He swirled a glass in his hand, sighed softly as he turned, the great glass wall facing him, reflecting the city behind him. It was then that he saw it; a glimpse of something else, a figure behind him, an unholy amount of piercing red eyes staring at him, the creature twice the size of a man and clearly malicious in nature with the way it loomed over him. His head turned and he nearly cried in fear, but behind him, there was nothing. When he returned his gaze to the glass, the same was true; the world was empty, behind him, the glass pitch black. The lights flickered for a moment, and then the feeling passed; Dante shook his head, and set down the glass in his hand. Too much to drink, he told himself, but he knew that was not the truth. He had to move again.

[330 / 500 words]

[captain dude]

username: captain dude
name: Ermine “Ernie”
crewmate or imposter?: Imposter
prompt answer:

Ghosts are my only friends. They’ve always been. How else would I have learned all that I know? Who else would whisper in my ear, “No, a little gentler on your brush strokes. Ah! There we go!” As I painted works from his lifetime on the walls? How else would I have learned to play in perfect Baroque form on violin?

They tell me all sorts of tales of their lives, of their loves, their passions and their deaths. They flock to me. Authors reciting their works in all the passion and liveliness of their former glory, lovers waxing poetic about their beaus, ancients sharing the stories of scars no longer visible.

Ghosts, you see, can sense someone who can understand them. Most of the spirits are gentle, some even lonesome and melancholy. Some speak of loved ones they yearn to reunite with; their realm is harder to navigate than mine. Others of regrets. And many of lives cut short.

Then there are the few. The angry. The terrifying. Most can be talked down, most just in a state of mourning or shock. But a few even scare me. The good ones protect me from them. I don’t fear them too much.

But most are good. Mine seek a little comfort. A face with a smile. Most say that if you move close enough, they can almost feel the warm breath of a passing loved one, almost feel the soft touch of a comforting hand. I’ll never be their loved ones, I know that. But perhaps, my comfort can be a breath of life to them. A breath of life, and a hand to guide them before they decide to move on.

[xem]

Staff have chosen to judge this competition, congratulations deerbroken! You have been added to the drawing, so you may change their shine to a knife if you wish.

username: deerbroken
name: dante
crewmate or imposter?: imposter
prompt answer:
It had always been there. Under the surface, waiting to connect. At a young age, he could see floating eyes and hands in the corners of rooms, but his parents dismissed him, told him he had an overactive imagination. After a time he grew numb to it, wrote it off as nothing but a hallucination out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, they seemed to stop.

He grew up. He changed. Got an average office job, spent his nights alone, staring up at the stars from the terrace of his apartment. It all became so mundane, but the memories of his childhood, of those strange things lurking in dark places loomed over his head. He had not seen a vision of some haunted form in years; He wondered if it had ever truly happened, or if he was trying to play tricks on his parents, his siblings, his friends. The empty sky was blurred with light that night, a consequence of living in the city, but the moon still gave off a soft glow somewhere high on the horizon. He swirled a glass in his hand, sighed softly as he turned, the great glass wall facing him, reflecting the city behind him. It was then that he saw it; a glimpse of something else, a figure behind him, an unholy amount of piercing red eyes staring at him, the creature twice the size of a man and clearly malicious in nature with the way it loomed over him. His head turned and he nearly cried in fear, but behind him, there was nothing. When he returned his gaze to the glass, the same was true; the world was empty, behind him, the glass pitch black. The lights flickered for a moment, and then the feeling passed; Dante shook his head, and set down the glass in his hand. Too much to drink, he told himself, but he knew that was not the truth. He had to move again.

[330 / 500 words]

[deerbroken]

!! thank you