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Jazz grew up knowing there was something off about the townhouse they lived in. The doors always creaked, no matter how well oiled their hinges, there was always a cool draft in the house, and she could hear the echoes of footsteps every night, could feel the ghosting of lips on her forehead when she put herself and Danny to bed.
It wasn't until she was older, helping Danny into his winter coat and helping him into his boots so they could go to the park, that she thought to ask.
"Oh, well the house is haunted dear," her mother replied, crouching down to her level. "The entire town is, but this house in particular just happens to be a little more haunted than the others."
Jazz frowned. In all the books she'd read, all the stories and movies she'd heard and seen, anything haunted was a bad idea. "Then why don't we move? Haunted things aren't good for developing kids," she said, chin raised and brows furrowed. "You hate ghosts."
Maddie hums thoughtfully, finger pressing into her chin as she looked at the ceiling.
Jazz could feel a certain stillness to the house, as if it was holding it's breath. Ridiculous, the 7 year old thought, looking up at her mother expectantly. Houses don't talk, and houses aren't alive. That's ridiculous.
"Jazz, your dad and I, we're ectobiologists," Maddie says, smiling down at Jazz. "We decided to live here because it was best for our research, before we even thought of having you," she continues, tucking a lock of stray fiery red hair behind Jazz's ear. They were thin and dainty, the woman noted absently, almost pointed like elf ears. "And, well, nothing's happened in the 10 years we've been here, right?"
Jazz nodded, letting Danny take her hand and tug her towards the door. "I guess."
"So it's no issue!"
"Jazz come on, you promised!"
Jazz turns to the door, letting him open it and drag her through.
The door shuts with a sad creak, and Jazz pulls her shoulders back as they head down the stairs.
"Bye!" She shouts back she and Danny dash down the sidewalk. She's unsure why she does it, but it makes her feel better to do so, and so she doesn't question it.
The Fenton Townhouse had been standing for 60 years when the Fentons moved in, and they hadn't been sure how to feel.
On the one hand, they adored the newlywed couple and their eccentricity, the two entwined on an enormous couch and rambling about something they read in a new science journal, or discussing the day's findings over a tray of heavenly smelling fudge. The couple were strange, filling their walls with machinery and pushing further and further into the unknown with every passing day. They feel themself getting stronger, as an entity, and the nature of the Fenton's dubious science becomes more clear.
They studied ghosts, and it made something in the wooden frame of the house ache every time they made a breakthrough.
Their attempts to dissuade the scientists, in hindsight, only spurred the duo on, convinced they were on the right track.
Slammed doors, suspiciously opened windows, drawers flying open with a crash, it did nothing but excite the duo.
"Oh, I'm so glad we bought this house!"
"It was a steal, wasn't it?"
"It suits us just fine, dear."
The house stopped after a few months, instead choosing to reach out to other sentient buildings, make friends on the House Network.
It went well, the Fenton House grew stronger with every passing day, every failed experiment leaking a little more ectoplasm into the very foundations of the building with micro-tears in reality. They reached out, learning and falling in love with the technology getting installed in every room. Suddenly, they could do more if they wanted to. Suddenly, they had more energy to do things.
The Fenton House loved the Fentons, despite their worrying tendencies and interests in the ghostly.
Around the 6 month mark of the Fenton's residence and subsequent rapid development of the building, they met the House of Mystery.
The House of Mystery was familiar with the House Network, to say the least.
In the grand scheme of things, there wasn't much a sentient house could do on a given day, but the House Network made life as a sentient house much less lonely. It could manifest as several things, from a stream of consciousness and foreign thoughts that newly haunted or sentient buildings all began with, to the eventual land where their consciousnesses could manifest and interact with others like them.
He was a regular visitor to the realm, wandering the land and making new friends, couch-surfing on occasion when the mood struck him, visiting neighborhoods and complimenting interesting architecture when he saw it. There wasn't much to do, in the solid realm, with his resident constantly coming and going and never inclined to take a moment to chat.
It was lonely.
And then, he met the Fenton Townhouse.
They were beautiful, with glowing recent additions that radiated a general sense of wrongness, something so close to magic but most certainly scientific at their core. He was fascinated at first sight, and so he struck up a conversation.
He didn't know at the time just how enthralled he truly was with them.
The Fenton Townhouse knew there was something off about themself, something that set them apart from others they met via the House Network, but they did their best to be friendly and although they had no close friends (Noone close enough to call neighbors, nor could they call themself part of a neighborhood.) they knew they were well liked, despite the general wrongness about them.
Most did not approach first, eying them and the toxic green light of their strange additions warily. Other truly haunted residences and buildings recognized the green, the specific sense of death they carried, and were quicker to open up to them. Quicker to invite them into conversations, guide them through the trials and usual difficulties that came with being sentient because of death, although they did not usually understand the difficulties that came with having residents so excited over their hauntedness.
Others were shocked with how quickly they had gained a form to wander with, some eying the machinery embedded into their very being with a mix of jealousy and horror.
The townhouse looked on at other sentient buildings longingly, desiring some kind of connection like they saw others build, be it renovations, neighborhoods or rows, but they knew it would take time. They were a newcomer, after all, and an enigma at that, growing stranger every day.
So when the House of Mystery approached, curious and easy to talk to, the Fenton Townhouse was surprised and the day was burned into their memory.
"Hey," the older, much more uniform house had said to them. "What are you?"
"I'm the Fenton Townhouse, now."
"And before?"
"I didn't have a name before."
"Pity," He said, eying the younger building in interest. "Interesting design choices."
"They're eccentric, I'll give them that," the Townhouse replied easily.
"How long have you been...Around?"
"Not long. Barely a few months."
The House of Mystery looked surprised. "Really?"
"Mhm. Say, what's your name?"
The older house laughed, and if the Townhouse had a heart, it would have skipped a beat.
"I'm known as the House of Mystery," he said with a dramatic flourish. "Pleased to meet you, Fenton."
The way he said it was so sharp, so magical, so attention grabbing, that the Townhouse laughed and looked away, playfully bashful, and replied "Lovely to meet you too, Mystery."
Mystery grinned, watching the townhouse's mechanical parts glow brighter. They would be interesting, that much was certain.
The Fentons noticed that the house, while still creepy and growing creepier still, felt happier about half a year after moving in.
They brushed it off, attributing it to their own newlywed bliss.
The townhouse gained more additions, and continued to venture into the House Network, and struck up a close friendship with the House of Mystery.
Time passed, and they remained in contact, seeking one another out almost nightly.
Mystery would sit close, pressed against the other building and spin stories of miraculous places, magical theory, and the many adventures his resident would get into. Fenton would lean into him, and whisper back scientific formulae, fascinating theories, and the mishaps that lead to explosions in the basement lab.
For a while, everything was fine. Peaceful. They grew closer, seeking out more than neighborly companionship.
Slowly but surely, thoughts of renovation came to mind.