There's something dark and unnatural swirling around this place. Just the type of thing that draws things like Aaron in. He's feeling better than usual, all healed up and like his mind is his own once more. So breaking into the manor, looking for the wrongness in it, was a fairly simple task.
The revenant doesn't try to be quiet: after all, nothing can hurt him, and trying to kill him would be a waste of time. But fun for him. He's always so very bored.
He'll explore the house until he can find what's making the air taste like rot. And then... he doesn't know. Maybe he'll find something worth investigating, maybe he'll just be disappointed. Either way, he's not leaving until he's found the source.
No caretakers are left alive to stop the overgrowth crawling up the bricked walls of the manor. Sitting lonely, all decorations and buildings nearby reduced to rubble in elegant piles. It’s no feat to break into, a hole broken into the ballroom and framed by the Creeping Virginia and withering remains of spring blooms. Lining the pseudo entrance are piles of dead animals. Not taxidermic hunts, but rotting animals shredded in a frenzy. Blood thick and curdled around them, shedding off of the flooring.
The final inhabitant of the house sits alone, often unmoving. Marc has no need to leave anymore, not unless it compels him to. His best friend, the last thing to stay with him. It doesn’t let him leave today, stewing in the basement while the former lord sits still in a drawing room. Wallpaper peels away in small strips, mold covering the crowning of the door. It pushes him, prodding him like cattle to stand.