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"Even if we wouldn't be technically dead, I want to avoid being murdered, and the best way to keep oneself safe is to have all the facts." She nodded to herself; yes, that had sounded nearly as good out loud as it had in her head. She finished off the rest of her ice cream and left the bowl and spoon in what appeared to be the proper receptacles. "C'mon, Fee--Mister Turkey, there's something strange happening. Let's go poke it with a stick." With that, she set off back towards Cal's corpse, filled with determination and several more Doctor Who references.

Lee- The Crimson Woman had just suggested they abandon ice cream to go look at a corpse. He looked at her like she had said something mad (because she had said something mad.)

'Iiiif you want to?' Mister Turkey said, draining the rest of his hot chocolate, considering grabbing more for the journey.

"There's always room on the gallows for more to swing..."

It's right next to his ear, he can feel someone there - no, no, that isn't right. There's nobody.

Nobody at all.

...

"Ahaha." Ow. Okay, trying to go corporeal is still a bad idea. Sufferer on a two-wheel device that hurt.

((Note: I am, in fact, not there by now.))

They can, however, determine that there is not nearly enough stuff on it for the dead Hostess to have put up much of a struggle. So there's another point in the "she was already dead" category.

"Someone's rearranging the parts in the other room, or worse," the Musician said. "I don't like what that could mean..."

"And, really," she continued. "If you can't magically wave a problem away, keeping yourself from being a victim of it is a good move. That could have been a lot worse, if more of us had been caught by it."

Sapphire took The Musician's hand to land smoothly and blushed at the compliment. "I... I... Thank you, Miss Musician. Your costume is lovely as well; I mean it." They looked at her bashfully. "You really don't think I was being cowardly?"

Suddenly, a feeling of... wrongness trickled down Sapphire's neck. A feeling of being disturbed. Watched. A cold feeling, like a tiny sliver of ice lodged in their spine.

They turned to The Musician with eyes wide behind their mask. "Did you feel that? That horrible... foreboding? I... I could've sworn I felt a pair of eyes on me. Not friendly ones."

Just as Rod reached the top of the banister with the rest of his group, he stopped as a twisting feeling of foreboding shot up and down his spine. He whipped around and glanced over every corner of the room he could see, checking for anything that seemed . . . changed. The chill settled around his heart.

Something was wrong. Something dangerous. Room for one more, honey. Rod shook the thought away. That was just some line he remembered from an old TV show . . . wasn't it?

They weren't sure there was anything there they hadn't seen before, but then again, they hadn't looked all that closely. On the way there, they felt a shiver run down their spine, as if... something had happened, or someone was watching them. They looked around, but couldn't see anyone. It was probably the Hostess, doing what she did. Again.

The Musician offered a hand to stabilize Sapphire as she set down.

"That was scary stuff- and you got out of its way. That's not the wrong move. Want to go check out that railing?"

"Your wings are lovely, by the way," she added.

"Sorry, guys. I wasn't really very helpful." They fidgeted nervously. "I... I guess we should follow Rod's idea; it's the best we've got."

"I wanted something sort of cool and every other thing I thought of sounded off. I'd never heard of a turkey in relation to bowling before." She ate another bite of ice cream, still glancing around her. "Want to head back to Calliope's body? I want to take another look at it."

'It's not meant to be the animal, it's when you get three strikes. In bowling.' He gestured sadly around his head. 'Bowling theme. Get it?' He did not want his horrible choice of name to be the topic of conversation and nearly immediately steered it away: 'Wait, so what's your mystery hidey-name, then?'

"I'm getting the strangest feeling," she muttered, "that someone else just said something, but I can't hear them. Argh, that's uncomfortable. You feeling that, Feen?" She chuckled. "Feening that, I guess? Er, what's your RP name, anyway?" She blinked. "Did I ask that already?"

The Hostess - no, she wasn't the Hostess right now. This was too sweet for that.

Calliope had to smile at her guests when they were genuinely enjoying themselves, as Lady Red and Victory were so obviously doing. Granted, Lady Red was all huffy about her diet (those things always struck her as a little silly, anyways, but she'd never had reason to seriously consider one so she was probably A Little Biased and Lady Red might have been on one for a good reason and okay now she felt a little bad), but she was certainly enjoying the ice cream!

Calliope was a little sad nobody got the joke with the ice-cream cake though. Oh well, someone who did would show up sooner or later. Preferably sooner, but given his other concerns, it would be a while.

He looked up, inserted the spoon into his mouth, and pulled it out perfectly clean. It looked like it had just been forged. It caught the light and glinted. He placed it to rest in the bowl.

'I like this part of our plan, Leeb,' he said, vacuuming down a segment of his cup of hot chocolate that left his lips boiling hot and steaming, not that he even seemed to notice. 'As much as I like the "mystery solving" part of it and getting murdered and pulled into alternate dimensions and stuff, I think we should try to extend this section of the plan as long as possible. For, erm.' The spoon entered his mouth with a globule of ice cream on it and exited empty and shining and disinfected. 'To give the mystery solving bit better integrity to stand on. For that reason.'

"She knows I'm on a diet, doesn't she," she said, glaring at the ice cream and chocolate milk. "And she knows I'm gonna eat this anyway because goshdarn it, this is a party, I'm allowed to have ice cream." Angrily, she picked up a bowl and dug herself out several scoops, using unnecessary force. This done, she seized a spoon and plunged it into her bowl. "Delicious," she growled around the bite. "Rocky road with marshmallows, my favorite. Actually, no, Phish Food is my favorite, but whatever. Close enough. Feen, you want anything?" she demanded, turning to her friend.

On this Board were several different types of pieces - chess, checkers, Monopoly tokens, D&D figurines… each piece represented a person or force within her Party.

With a soft hum, she reached into a box of figurines and pulled out what looked like a miniature clown. “You’ll do,” she murmured as she placed him at the edge of the Board. After a moment, she picked him back up and moved him closer to the center - Spanky would be rather powerful, after all.

Just as soon as he joined in.

After consideration, she moved a few other pieces around - the White Queen, the Black Knight, the Iron, a wooden bell… it was hard to tell whether this affected anything or was just her way of keeping track.

Once she was done moving the pieces around, the Hostess took out a deck of cards and looked them over. “Not bad,” she muttered grudgingly. “I do have to give you some credit.”

Finally, she put the cards down and began to pace. Being ‘dead’ was boring. She wanted to be out there meddling, not observing! Okay, sure, she was still meddling. But she wasn’t out there, dropping more clues, talking to her guests… just sitting in her void, keeping her Board up to date and looking at her cards.

Being passive was so dull.

...you notice a rather distinct lack of coffee.

Right. Cal hates the taste of coffee, and isn't exactly fond of the smell either.

There is also, however, a lack of tea. There's quite a bit of hot chocolate and chocolate milk, as well as ice cream (which could become ice cream soup, which is sort of beverage-ish), lemonade, and apple juice. Alright then.

You could try to find the kitchen, since the owner of the house might be a little more coffee-inclined.

"I guess that was a terrible idea . . . Should we maybe check out the top of the banister, where Call seemed to be hung from?"

"I was going to suggest trying a different door, but if that's the case..."

The Musician focused for a moment, two deep breaths, as she let go of the light she had called up. It faded away, although she was still faintly luminous.

"What did the message on the door say?" she asked. "Was it a warning of black clouds of doom?"

"I wasn't singed, and even if I had been, you were only trying to help." The Ghast traced the lines on the hilt of their sword as they thought. "I'm not sure. We could try to go exploring, since I'm pretty sure that's what she wants us to do, but it's only going to get more dangerous from here..."

"Sorry if you got a bit singed. Tried to take out the source, but the fog made it a bit hard to aim. I know it passed closer than I'd like." He tapped the cane on the ground. "So what's our next plan?"

"Thank you, guys," they said, voice trembling a little. "I - Well, I thought that I might be ending up as the night's first casualty."

In moments, a good half of the stuff had dissipated, freeing the Ghast and ensuring the Sapphire wouldn't join them in their prison. That only left what was beyond the door, which reassembled itself with some rather strange sounds. Really, if you had to make a comparison, it was like the sound of it exploding in reverse.

That's probably exactly what it was, now that you think about it.

"I think two things. One, I'm getting that strange, crawly feeling you get when you've annoyed something way bigger than you, and I don't like it. Two, dang I need some coffee. Come on, let's find the refreshments table. Can't solve a mystery without fuel." With that, she turned and started back across the room, trying to watch in every direction at once.