Ripper hoists a large bag onto her shoulder, things shifting and rattling as she stares out into the sunny afternoon. A hand readjusts her hood, pulling it back into place before she makes the small hike back to the small haven that had once belonged to the Wreynn Faire. Raking webs down from the porch and releasing their occupants, the fae shoulders open the door and immediately ducks backward so as not to be hit by a falling bucket of pixie dust.
"Well...at least I know neither of them has been back."
Placing down the pack she steps across the bucket and closing the door she stretches her wings in the pitch black environment and takes a deep breath. The air tastes of dust, insects, rodents, and family. Pale hands reach through the shadows to grope for a small box on a shelf, opening it and scooping out a pinch of moist soil. She drops the grave dirt into her mouth and swallows, fangs lengthening slightly and senses coming to a crescendo as her blood's power strenghtens briefly. [Strength 2]
From the outside, it sounds as if a bear might be raiding the home, large crashes and cracks vibrating the very walls. Insects swarm from their new home and into the woods. But after a few hours the sound fades to a more reasonable din.
Pale arms fling open the windows and door, smoking where their skin touches sunlight. Ripper piles bits of torn down furniture near the fireplace, ready to be used. Despite the sound, it seems as if she was merely fixing the place back into livable conditions. Though...the place seems a bit...schitzophrenic, as if two different worlds occupy its space divided by a thin, invisible, line.
The left side is dark, windows covered by heavy blackout curtains, and lit only by the occasional flicker of a few candles. The bunk is lined in soft blacks, and a large rectangular shape rests cocked against the wall. The box is carved and heavy, with evidence of handles at its sides and dirt ground into the deep corners. The shelves glimmer with red vials and leatherbound books. Above her resting place, the box of soil now has a special place; guarded it would seem by the portrait of a pale, wild-eyed man. [Recognizable, Rizzik] But the corner isn't all dour and sadness, at the very edge of the shelf rests the familiar, fluffy form of Mistah Bun leaning againt a small nest of grasses and wood to keep company one large, crimson-eyed rat.
The other side seems to be waiting for an occupant, its bed is uncovered, but newly freshed, and brightly-coloured lights string its top end. There are toys and candy scattered amongst the shelves, and glittering fabrics tacked to the ceiling to form a crude, circus-like canopy.
Task complete, Ripper stands amoungst the ordered chaos and allows herself a smile before crawling onto the black bunk. One arm sweeps the rat from its nest and onto her pillow, hooking the stuffed bunny in her elbow with the same movement. She briefly nuzzles the small, harrowed, animal and then reaches to lift the no-doubt incredibly heavy box with shocking ease, closing it in on herself before settling in till nightfall.
Only now does it become...utterly inescapable to realize that the box isn't. Instead, the large shape is a worn, inverted, coffin.