{A}Roommates, family, or people likely to be in his room It's taken some getting used to, and some long-term proof of it, to adjust to not having ghosts swarming him at all hours of the day and night. Klaus chalks it up to being dead, and in Hell, and he can't very well access the plane of the dead when he's one of them, can he? The reprieve of it all has been damn near blissful, the kind of thing he only dreamed about before he ended up here. A life without haunted voices screaming for him had only been a fantasy before, and now that he's had a taste of it, God, he'd never give it up.
So as the days stretch on and grow colder, and something in the air seems to prickle at his skin an in an inexplicable way, he doesn't even begin to consider it might mean something more than the usual games Hell tends to play. They'd all had those feel good vibes running under the frame of things toward the end of the month, right? This is just the shock back to awareness of the way things always were coated in a little bit of dark and twisty here.
It's a nightmare, at first, he's sure of it. Trapped in the crypt surrounded by ghosts screaming his name, pawing at him, begging him to pay attention and help them. He almost doesn't notice the man made of eyes in the midst of them all. The shuddering breath that comes out of him as he jolts up in bed wracks his wiry frame and it takes him a few minutes just sitting there to realize it's fine. It was a dream. It was--
Something cold curls around his shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut, terrified to turn and see who-what might be there. But he didn't have to see it, because the spirts made themselves known with a chorus of noise in his ears that he couldn't escape.
"Klaus."
"Klaus!"
"KLAUS!"
A hiss of words: "KLAAAAAUUUSSSS help uussss"
"Save me!" comes what seems to be the terrified cry of a little girl.
"Klaus."
"Klaus!"
"KLAUS!"
"Be warned," came the warning of a woman. "it's coming!"
"Join us on the other side, Klaus--!" comes one voice.
"--it's where you belong, after all," finishes another, identical voice.
"Klaus."
"Klaus!"
"KLAUS!"
He whimpers against the voices, curling into himself and trying to hide from them all.
{B}OTA
Unable to stand being alone in his room with a parade of ghosts he hasn't been able to get rid of (and he tried-- he tried so hard, begging some pills out of a demon here, drowning himself in booze there, and it didn't help, not like it should have-- they were still there), Klaus takes to wandering all hours of the day, but especially at night. The ghosts are more active then, which isn't a surprise but it's made sleep exceptionally hard.
He might be found idly wandering the halls more often than not; otherwise one might find him at the bar or leaving either of his siblings' rooms at various points through the ghosts' tenure in the hotel. More than anything, he's just trying to find something that makes the spirts quieter, even if that just means distractions in form of conversations with others. Anything is better than listening to them scream.
{C}Steve Rogers / Harlan Halliday Still some nights, his feet carry him to familiar spaces; it's become all but a default routine to wander down the hall to #203 when he's bored, can't sleep, or otherwise needs the company of someone he can trust.
He doesn't wait for anyone to answer, instead just lets himself inside the suite and further still, into Harlan's room. He isn't home when Klaus finds his way there, so he sets up perching at the top of the bed near the pillows in a lotus style while he waits.
Another time, Steve answers the door when he comes knocking, looking shaken and exhausted. He doesn't bother explaining, instead he just follows wherever the other man might lead him.
Klaus Hargreeves | The Umbrella Academy | cw: flash-photo gif/eye manip pic; anxiety description/tbd
{A} Roommates, family, or people likely to be in his room
It's taken some getting used to, and some long-term proof of it, to adjust to not having ghosts swarming him at all hours of the day and night. Klaus chalks it up to being dead, and in Hell, and he can't very well access the plane of the dead when he's one of them, can he? The reprieve of it all has been damn near blissful, the kind of thing he only dreamed about before he ended up here. A life without haunted voices screaming for him had only been a fantasy before, and now that he's had a taste of it, God, he'd never give it up.
So as the days stretch on and grow colder, and something in the air seems to prickle at his skin an in an inexplicable way, he doesn't even begin to consider it might mean something more than the usual games Hell tends to play. They'd all had those feel good vibes running under the frame of things toward the end of the month, right? This is just the shock back to awareness of the way things always were coated in a little bit of dark and twisty here.
It's a nightmare, at first, he's sure of it. Trapped in the crypt surrounded by ghosts screaming his name, pawing at him, begging him to pay attention and help them. He almost doesn't notice the man made of eyes in the midst of them all. The shuddering breath that comes out of him as he jolts up in bed wracks his wiry frame and it takes him a few minutes just sitting there to realize it's fine. It was a dream. It was--
Something cold curls around his shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut, terrified to turn and see who-what might be there. But he didn't have to see it, because the spirts made themselves known with a chorus of noise in his ears that he couldn't escape. He whimpers against the voices, curling into himself and trying to hide from them all.
{B} OTA
Unable to stand being alone in his room with a parade of ghosts he hasn't been able to get rid of (and he tried-- he tried so hard, begging some pills out of a demon here, drowning himself in booze there, and it didn't help, not like it should have-- they were still there), Klaus takes to wandering all hours of the day, but especially at night. The ghosts are more active then, which isn't a surprise but it's made sleep exceptionally hard.
He might be found idly wandering the halls more often than not; otherwise one might find him at the bar or leaving either of his siblings' rooms at various points through the ghosts' tenure in the hotel. More than anything, he's just trying to find something that makes the spirts quieter, even if that just means distractions in form of conversations with others. Anything is better than listening to them scream.
{C} Steve Rogers / Harlan Halliday
Still some nights, his feet carry him to familiar spaces; it's become all but a default routine to wander down the hall to #203 when he's bored, can't sleep, or otherwise needs the company of someone he can trust.
He doesn't wait for anyone to answer, instead just lets himself inside the suite and further still, into Harlan's room. He isn't home when Klaus finds his way there, so he sets up perching at the top of the bed near the pillows in a lotus style while he waits.
Another time, Steve answers the door when he comes knocking, looking shaken and exhausted. He doesn't bother explaining, instead he just follows wherever the other man might lead him.