Mr. Whirlinda was not a very curious man--at least, his curiosity did not peak as high as his wife's. However, on the occasion that she wanted to remain within the ballroom while he wanted to go about the mansion to merely get outside of the room that they resided in the most, they parted ways. Neither of them minded; they had both gotten their ways, one content with familiarity while the other was able to get out for once (not that they were always secluded within--presumably--the most elegant room of the entire mansion). The only obstacle was their heart; the child-like representation of an enigma that was shared between the two of them, unlike their counterparts. It was stronger when they were together and weaker apart. As he left the ballroom, it contracted and burned brighter while the few veins and arteries, whipped around the life source like tendrils, grew in number, reinforcing the illusion of a muscle that both of them once possessed. If anything where to happen to Mr. Whirlinda as he traveled about the establishment, his wife would have to pay the price as well.
He lingered about leisurely. Occasionally, he would stumble across a teddy bear, building blocks varying in color, number, and letter, and perhaps a toy car or two--all signs that children were there, however no where to be found. He would simply place them back in their appropriate places, though it was unnecessary; they would always end up in the hallway once more, scattered about, lifeless. Today, however, he stumbled across something else that he was not expecting to find, but seemed as though it wanted to be discovered, nonetheless. A scrap of paper was nestled away in the corner of the foyer room, inhabited by a lone spider. It had built a web around the note and was resting comfortably before large--in comparison--digits dove in and gently pulled the web apart, holding the scrap between index and middle fingers. Green hues only had to scan it over for a brief moment before a conjoining memory sparked back to life.
From the other side of the room, Mrs. Whirlinda perked up, hands folded in her lap as her dress was draped over the chair that she sat upon. Immediately, both of their hearts expanded in size and dimmed as the coils slithered away and released the pressure that they held in each Whirlinda's chest; they both inhaled and exhaled deeply before resuming conversation.
The former glided to his wife and pulled her from the seat with a simple flick of the wrist. She would have spun uncontrollably if it weren't for the fact that she had been used to her husband's antics so many times before. She stopped and turned, now receiving the piece of paper before she could even ask:
"It's an address to . . . Evershade Valley, I believe." Mrs. Whirlinda nodded in affirmation. "I do believe that that little girl that we had met before mentioned that place."
"So you're suggesting that we visit?"
They came across a plethora of buildings; a manor; what seemed to be a hotel; a building that resembled some sort of clockwork; a snow-coated cabin that led into an underground cavern--a mine, of sorts; and a museum. Taking their best guess as to what would be the safest route to travel, they unanimously decided to head off in the direction of the manor--the building that resembled their own home. Of course, suspicions and caution were both raised--this was a place that neither of them knew--but they weren't entirely nervous; they were ghosts, and all of these buildings were inhabited by the same kin, let alone the fact that they were different in appearance and history.
Mr. Whirlinda wandered into the foyer first, Mrs. Whirlinda right on his heels. They both took twin glances before giving comments of praise of the same caliber.
"Well I must say, this place isn't that bad."
"Oh, I concur. Dark and gloomy; just how we like it."
