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+---- Thread: dire engagements (/showthread.php?tid=12038)
dire engagements - Ronin - 09-19-2025
The weather is pathetic. That's as good a place to start as any.
Not a cloud in the night sky, the air warm and balmy, the stars dazzling overhead. It doesn't look like rain and it isn't even pretending at being foreboding, making the ramshackle house before them seem quietly derelict at best, but nowhere near menacing. Fuck sakes.
[say]"See if you can add in some thunder and lightning in post,"[/say] Ronin is suggesting to the blonde checking their equipment. She seems obliging enough, but her hand darts out quick as a blade to slap the back of his own as he reaches for one of the cameras. [say]"Ow,"[/say] he hisses, snatching the limb back and shoving it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
[say]"Anyone remember the history of this place? I Googled it a bit before we came but I just got as far as family knifed to death and weird cult connections before I got to the front of the coffee line."[/say] Speaking of which, Ronin turns to reach into the large black van parked before the house (the very same van the blonde is fussing around in) to grab his coffee.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-19-2025
Remi lingers a little to the side, steam curling up from his coffee like it’s trying to escape before things get weird. He cradles the cup in both hands—not for the warmth, really, but for the excuse—and keeps his shoulders turned slightly away from the camera setup like proximity might invite participation.
He glances up at the sound of a slap and a hiss, catching the moment Ronin’s hand is swatted away by the blonde. There’s an easy rhythm to them already as they trade banter and camera slaps like they've been at this for seasons. Maybe they have, Remi wouldn’t know. He’s the new guy, after all. Just the on-screen medium, with the accent and the cross and the suspicious tendency to be right about what’s lurking in basements often enough to have been hired after appearing in just a few episodes.
Looking down again, he slips his phone from his pocket. He’d read up on the place last night, of course—pages deep into badly formatted blogs and paranormal forums where punctuation went to die—but he types it in again now as if something new will pop up. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be caught standing there doing nothing while everyone else has a job and a place.
The screen casts a soft glow up into his face, catching in the curls that have fallen loose across his brow and drawing pale green from the shadows of his eyes. It outlines the slope of his nose, the dip of his mouth, before spilling down to where the thin gold cross hangs steady against the charcoal grey knit of his sweater, half-tucked beneath a light jacket that still smells faintly of smoke and detergent.
He sips the coffee—still too sweet, still not quite what he meant to order—but it gives his hands something to do while he waits.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
[say]"No? Nobody? Cool cool cool, that's cool."[/say] Ronin slumps back against the side of the van with a roll of his eyes, similarly taking a long sip of his coffee - nowhere near sweet enough and also not quite what he ordered (any decent psychic among them might have guessed that he and the new guy had swapped drinks by accident) and letting out a long sigh as he regards the house.
The blonde - Isla - in the van scoffs, and Remi is right in that there's an easy rhythm between them, but that's born more out of on-again-off-again hookups than it is any true work experience. Still, the show they've been making had been an unexpected hit in its first few episodes, and that popularity only seems to have grown now that they have a bona fide Italian medium on board, so with luck that same familiarity will grow between them.
[say]"The Halliday family,"[/say] Isla informs them as she emerges with the camera and the setup complete. [say]"Husband, wife, two kids, the usual deal. Mid-80s, husband goes missing, wife tells everyone he walked out on them. Then one night she stabs the two children in their beds before taking herself down to the basement to commit suicide. Only later did they find the husband stuffed in an in-ground well hidden down there."[/say]
Ronin raises his eyebrows and straightens up, abandoning his coffee and straightening his jacket and the white tee beneath it. [say]"Sounds ever so cheerful,"[/say] he trills, glancing up to see a couple of their other film crew leaving the house where they've been setting up all the equipment. [say]"A'right, let's do the intro outside and we'll head in and figure it out from there. You ready to start... Remi, right?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi glances up as Ronin speaks again, only half-aware he’s doing the exact same uncertain look as that one gif of the kid caught blinking into the camera and then awkwardly looking away and then back again. He opens his mouth, just about ready to fill in the blanks Ronin had tossed into the air earlier, but Isla beats him to it with her summary, sharp and unflinching.
He shuts his mouth again, nodding slightly, then adds under his breath, [say]"She’d laid the table for five."[/say] It’s soft, easily lost in the shuffle of movement and camera straps and coffee cups. When a few glances do flick his way, he shrugs. “[say]"Allegedly, anyway. Found some thread on reddit about it. Guy said his uncle was one of the responding officers. Might just be bullshit."[/say]
As Ronin’s attention properly swivels toward him, his name snagged in that easy Irish lilt, Remi straightens just slightly. He clears his throat, gaze dropping to the coffee like it’s personally betrayed him, and leaves it behind as he tucks his phone back into his jeans. Hands freed, he rolls his shoulders once, then gives a small, ready nod.
He casts a glance toward the house. It’s quiet, unassuming. There's no prickling at the base of his neck. Not even the usual uneasy hum. [say]"How dramatic are we talking for the intro?"[/say] he asks, turning back to Ronin with a flicker of dry humour. [say]"Because, uh...I definitely don't feel anything. So if you want me to start with bad vibes and tragic foreboding, just—"[/say] he gestures vaguely, having already learned that hoensty was not one of the core tenants of this show[say]"—give me the signal."[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
[say]"Oho."[/say] Ronin's eyebrows raise, morbidly delighted at that little tidbit of information, and he nods approvingly towards their resident medium. [say]"One man's bullshit is another man's some sources say--"[/say] He grins. [say]"We'll include that for sure."[/say] As the crew rally around and Isla readies the camera for the intro, Ronin starts to lead them up towards the decrepit little porch of the house, settling before it and gazing up as if he might be able to see the most aesthetically pleasing (read: spooky) angle to begin.
Opting not to comment on Remi not feeling anything, because if you're going to talk about what might be bullshit, they can start with ghosts actually existing, Ronin instead turns back and levels a crooked smile towards him. [say]"Ham it up as much as you like,"[/say] he says. [say]"Doesn't matter how much activity we get - we can make mountains out of whatever molehills we find. The story is one people will want to hear, so if we sell that, we've already done most of the work."[/say]
And with that he gestures to where he believes will be best to get everything set up, lets the crew get to work, and turns to face the house again.
Just for a second, he's certain he spots the shape of someone in the upstairs window. But then it's gone, and he damned near laughs at himself.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi ambles up the path after Ronin, taking slow enough steps that he doesn’t look like he’s rushing to keep up. He gets about halfway before their hair and makeup person swoops in out of nowhere, fingers already in his curls. She fluffs and smooths with brisk efficiency, then tuts under her breath like the curls are personally misbehaving for camera. Before he can so much as lift an eyebrow, her hand dips to his chest, fishing out the thin gold cross from beneath his sweater and laying it flat against the knit, perfectly centered. She gives it a tap—light, reverent, stagey—and a wink before disappearing back into the van.
Remi exhales through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t feel as...cheap as it did that first time, when he’d still thought he might be able to insist on dignity. Not when the cross was real but the bills were realer and the whole setup was helping him eat more than toast and quiet pride every night.
He falls into step beside Ronin and nods at his instructions, muttering a quiet, [SAY]"Got it, can do."[/say] His voice is low and even, carrying just enough that it won’t get lost in the shuffle of boots and gear.
Then, as the crew starts shifting around them and Isla calls something about camera framing, Remi turns slightly, giving the house a lazy once-over over his shoulder. The porch groans under Ronin’s boots, the night air still balmy and utterly indifferent. His green eyes flick up across the windows, thoughtful, but not tense.
He’s just beginning to think of how to set his face for the intro—something pensive, maybe, or just blank enough to let the audience project whatever they want onto it—when suddenly a lens is shoved in close, the ring light bright enough to sting. Remi blinks into it, expression neutral as a playing card, and says nothing. From somewhere inside the house, something creaks—too sharp and sudden to be the wind, too deliberate to be forgotten wood settling—and his gaze cuts instinctively toward the front door and then back to Ronin.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
Ronin is receiving his own final touches from hair and makeup when the ominous creak definitely sounds from somewhere behind him, and though he feels a shiver tick right down the length of his spine, he's neither willing nor able to look at it or at Remi just now about it. Only once the woman steps away does he relax, pointedly not looking at the front door and stepping forward to the edge of the porch. [say]"Alright,"[/say] he says, [say]"let's get off on the right foot and do an intro in one take, yeah?"[/say]
It won't happen - it never does - but positivity never hurt anyone.
Isla positions Ronin a couple of steps down on the porch and has Remi at the top of it and to the side, as if he's the owner of the house come to welcome them in. The crew are plentiful, and they and Isla often appear in the show, but for this part? It's just their host - or it had been, until the opportunity to include a medium had cropped up, and now Ronin and Remi share the limelight.
A lights, camera, action later and Ronin delves into the introduction of the episode with the sort of charm and charisma that feels as if it's been turned on via a lightswitch. He introduces the show - creatively named GHOSTWATCH - and manages to spin an impressively padded prelude of the story of the house and its potential ghosts, before inching up the steps to open the front door.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi does his best to look haunted. That’s the note they’d given him—in touch, too, but mostly haunted. Not in the freshly-digging-through-trauma way, more like someone who’s been politely living alongside ghosts for years and just occasionally makes them tea. So he stares off into the middle distance, jaw relaxed, eyes soft-focus and thoughtful, like he’s communing with something behind the lens instead of wondering if he looks like he’s trying too hard.
He doesn’t mind Ronin’s voice as it rolls through the intro. It’s warm, rich, easy to follow, the kind of voice that could probably narrate crime documentaries or bedtime stories depending on how he felt that day. It keeps the crew moving and the cameras steady.
Then Ronin steps up toward the door, and something shifts. It doesn’t rattle the trees or summon a thunderclap (though frankly, that would’ve been considerate), but it’s there. A pressure drop. A ripple in the fabric of something that pulls at Remi like a string wrapped around his ribs. Before he even knows he’s moving, his hand is out, fingers catching Ronin’s wrist just shy of the door handle.
Then he lets go. Quickly. [say]"Scusami,"[/say] he murmurs, voice low and rough at the edges. His hand drops to his side like it’s been caught somewhere it shouldn’t be. Glancing sidelong at the camera, he offers a shaky, almost sheepish smile and a small shrug, swallowing like his throat’s suddenly dry. [say]"I just—there’s a lot of pain here,"[/say] he says, tone cautious, eyes on the door now instead of the lens. The words are vague and safe, network-approved, and the line lands well enough for the camera, but Remi's gaze doesn't linger on it long.
And though he knows he isn’t supposed to turn away—always stay open to the camera, Remi—he angles his body slightly, turning one shoulder just enough to place himself between the lens and what he does next. His hand rises to the small cross at his chest, fingers curling around it with unconscious familiarity. He lifts it, presses a kiss to the metal before following Ronin inside.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
Well into his stride, Ronin is just about to get into the let me welcome you into my haunted house portion of the intro when a hand closes around his wrist. He doesn't know how Remi's touch manages to feel both warm and cold at the same time, but there it is, and he freezes automatically and furrows his brow towards the other man. [say]"I can't imagine,"[/say] he says, voice lowering to something soft, the sort of timbre reserved for injured animals or delivering bad news.
It's a perfect segue for Ronin to delve into how they always ensure to respect the property and any spirits they might encounter during their episodes, and how they are merely there to interact and learn, not to provoke or anger. And the camera eats. it. up.
Once the first cut! is called for, the crew all but gushes over Remi and his ominous and gloomy interruption, Ronin giving his shoulder a gentle bump with his own. [say]"Nice touch,"[/say] he agrees. [say]"Let's both get kitted out with a Go-Pro. I've gotta do a few more boring bits of narrative and we'll get a few shots in and around the house, but then we can try some on-camera contact shit. You want to stick around or go get acquainted with the place?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi’s shoulders draw up automatically at the nudge, spine straightening like he’s bracing for impact, not camaraderie. He keeps his eyes lowered, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth in the way a thread pulls from a sleeve, unintentional and not especially helpful. [say]"Yep,"[/say] he mutters, barely above a breath, like agreement is something to be ashamed of.
[say]"I’ll go have a wander,"[/say] he says, glancing past Ronin toward the house with the casual air of someone claiming the easy job. [say]"Might help. Less chance of me tripping over my own feet later."[/say] He half-chuckles under his breath, a sound with more self-deprecation than humour. [say]"Again."[/say]
With the camera crew repositioning for Ronin’s next monologue (this one likely to feature tasteful zoom-ins on peeling wallpaper and tragic violins in post), Remi slips away through the front door, leaving the low hum of production behind him. The moment he’s out of frame, the house seems to exhale around him.
The interior smells of old dust, maybe mildew, and something sharper beneath it. He moves slowly, running a hand lightly along the wall as he drifts past what was once a sitting room, then down the main hallway where family photos might have hung. The floors creak in complaint with every step, but he treads light, more guest than ghost hunter. When he reaches the kitchen, the overhead light doesn’t work. He flicks the switch anyway, out of habit or hope, and the silence that follows feels somehow thicker for the asking. He lingers, gaze skimming the old countertops, the curled linoleum underfoot, the fridge with its yellowing magnets.
Then he turns toward the dining room, and stops in the threshold. It’s an ordinary space. Wooden table, long enough for six, with mismatched chairs and a china hutch still pressed against one wall. The windows are shuttered. The light, such as it is, slants in from the hallway behind him. But something in the air is different here.
The chairs are tucked in, all of them except one. The farthest, at the head of the table, is drawn slightly back, not dramatically, just enough to feel like someone’s about to sit down. Or just did. No doubt Isla will love that.
Remi squints, something low and cold curling near his stomach as he considers the Reddit post he'd read the night before. Barely a sentence, halfway down a paragraph in a blog post that was more caps lock than credibility. Still, he reaches absently for the cross at his chest. Doesn’t kiss it this time, just touches it, like a man checking a lock that should be secure.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
[say]"Oh, I don't know - we made your last fall seem like something had grabbed you, so maybe don't be too careful,"[/say] Ronin calls after Remi with a grin, leaving him to go and lose himself in the belly of the house. The crew have mostly set themselves up in the entranceway, mobile monitors propped on a portable table, wires and cables slithering out through a window to the electricity supply (of which, as Remi is just noticing, there is none within the property).
There are a few cameras he'll notice too, as he makes his first pass through the house, blinking innocuously from the upper corners of the rooms, and Isla is already sitting herself down to watch Remi ghost through the space. In the meantime, Ronin has delivered his monologue (or two or three, against various backdrops and telling several tragic tales) and has been rigged with a Go-Pro on a chest strap, leaving him feeling more as if he's going mountain biking than ghost hunting.
It's only once he's all set up and no one is much looking at him that he goes to explore on his own, creeping away and down the corridor. Isla notices the flickery static from the dining room, but nobody else does. But then again, she's been actively tracking Remi on the monitors as he investigates.
Ronin follows at a much breezier pace, of course, hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and as he peeps into the kitchen to see the medium lingering at the threshold of another space, he raises an eyebrow. [say]"Do you feel anything?"[/say] he asks for the benefit of the cameras, though his lips mouth a more informal you good? as he steps up to join him.
[say]"Ah. The table laid for five, right?"[/say] he echoes, tilting his head at the chair partially scuffed out. [say]"I think that goes down to the basement, too."[/say] Ronin nods at the door directly behind said chair, currently shut tight.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi glances back over his shoulder as Ronin approaches, arms crossed tightly over his chest like they’ve been there for some time without him noticing. At the silent you good?, he gives a small nod—quick, but not dismissive—and exhales as he drops his arms, giving them each a brisk shake as if trying to flick the cold off like dust.
[say]"The table setting wasn’t in the police reports,"[/say] he says, voice low and even. His gaze flicks to the chair and back again, mouth tugging into something that’s not quite a frown. [say]"But then I guess, why would it be?"[/say] Glancing at the camera, Remi raises a brow. The bodies told the story well enough, the murders clear, the murder weapon and suspect all incredibly obvious. [say]"Who the wife had been expecting for dinner probably didn’t seem important, but clearly something else was going on."[/say] Soundbyte, check.
He shrugs, then glances toward one of the cameras perched like a patient spider in the corner where he's sure Isla is watching. [say]"One of the meters would light up in here, for sure,"[/say] he adds, tilting his head toward the dining room like he’s inviting Ronin in but not moving an inch himself. But even as he does, his hand rises to ruffle through his curls, casual and distracted. [say]"Airflow’s terrible,"[/say] he mutters, more to himself than anyone. [say]"That’s probably why it feels so cold all of a sudden."[/say] That bit will have to be cut in post, but the reading on the meters would be real enough.
His fingers drop from his hair, and he looks to Ronin again, nodding once toward the hallway. [say]"We should start upstairs. The kid's bedrooms first."[/say] A pause. [say]"Save the basement for last."[/say] It would be more dramatic that way and would force people to watch the whole show. Certainly the suggestion had nothing to do with the fact that something in his gut had started drawing invisible lines between the table, the chair, and that closed door behind it.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-20-2025
[say]"Mm, those sorts of rumours leak out of the crime scene cleanup like it's no one's business,"[/say] Ronin says, sounding unsurprised that the police report hadn't mentioned it. [say]"Besides, the connotations are enough that a little detail like that probably wasn't necessary. It was already a tabloid's wet dream."[/say] Unlike Remi, however, he doesn't seem remotely bothered by the dining room or its quirky little chair game, and he does indeed step across the threshold without hesitation.
[say]"Set for five, though,"[/say] he continues. [say]"Presumably the husband was long dead by then. So the wife, the two kids, the apparent corpse of the husband, and..."[/say] And exactly, is the open ended answer to that question.
Watching and listening, is Isla, and Ronin demonstrates as much by looking directly at the camera perched overhead and grinning. [say]"Hear that? We can get some of the other crew in here to play with the meters while we're upstairs."[/say] They could get plenty of B-footage and filler while they were dealing with the hotspots.
[say]"Sounds like a plan to me,"[/say] Ronin agrees, turning to head back to Remi - and pausing, his brow furrowed. [say]"You fucking with me?"[/say] He scoffs, stepping across to click the basement door shut where it's suddenly, gently, just off the latch. [say]"We got plenty of tricks we can use to make that happen without you playing pranks. Let's go."[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-20-2025
Remi wrinkles his nose, nodding slowly as Ronin speaks. [say]"I heard someone tried to sue over the crime scene photos that were published. Claimed they were family."[/say] His voice is quiet, thoughtful. Not disbelieving, just weary with the ways people twist grief into spectacle. [say]"Turns out they weren’t related at all—just happened to have the same last name. Case was dismissed."[/say]
At the lingering and..., his gaze flicks to Ronin, brows raised, lips drawing into a thin line of consideration. [say]"The better question is whether someone else was ever actually here,"[/say] he says, voice pitched for the room, not the camera. Then, glancing sideways at Ronin with a subtle tilt of his head, he adds, [say]"Maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe someone helped her. Maybe the table was set for a celebration."[/say] A pause. [say]"Or maybe an offering. An invitation."[/say] He doesn’t elaborate, just lets it sit there between them like condensation on the glass; faint, but telling.
When the click of the basement door hits the air, his head turns immediately, green eyes narrowing. He hasn’t moved a single step into the dining room, and now he lifts his hands like a man being wrongly accused of murder himself. [say]"I have not moved,"[/say] he says mildly, tone innocent with just the right amount of Italian drama to be believable. He glances to the camera, then back to Ronin with a shrug. [say]"Probably a draft. Basement window, maybe."[/say] Turning back into the kitchen, Remi scratches absently at the back of his neck, as if something about leaving the dining room at his back doesn’t sit right.
The stairs creak under his weight as he climbs, slow and careful, not for dramatic effect this time but because old wood and worn houses demand it. The GoPro bobs with each movement, but he lifts his phone and holds it up, angling the screen where it can catch the lens. [say]"Here,"[/say] he murmurs, voice low as he moves along the upper hallway. [say]"You can see we're standing exactly where this photo was taken. And that’s the door to the kids’ room."[/say] He taps the screen gently, then glances up to compare the frame in the photo with the one before him.
There's no blood anymore, just the strange stillness that sinks into places after tragedy, like dust gathering where breath used to be. Remi’s steps slow as he approaches the room. He doesn’t reach for the door just yet, glancing over his shoulder for Ronin to give the go-ahead.