Welcome to the Crescentwood Manor (Revamp)(Accepting)

[MacabreSmile]

Prince of the Damned|LeMarc|Head Butler|Half-Demon|Tagged: Lark

The butler is still busy trying to completely compose his emotions. He silently scolds himself for being unprofessional and clears his throat again. "Yes, of course we sho-"

In the distance, somewhere floors above them, he hears the faint sound of a crash.

"Hurry. We should hurry." With sudden urgency, LeMarc takes off for the stares, muttering oaths and foul language under his breath with little to no care how it makes him look.

Resident Scholar|Franz Joseph|Attic Hermit|Vampire|Tagged: Arthritis

"Say, friend, could you tell me some about your assistants?" A simple question, but with just a handful of words, one man's delusion shatters.

The vial in Franz's hand crashes to the floor, exploding in glass and liquid that scorches the wood below him. The vampire himself is rigid, frozen in time as the words sink in. A rotating cast of characters. Never seen them.

"I...I don't...I..." Franz Joseph suddenly finds himself feeling ill. It's not something he's used to, being a vampire and all. But now he feels sick down to his very core, like everything in him and around him is wrong. He's cold and breathing quick. He has't tried to use his lungs in a hundred years, which shows as dust billows form his mouth in harsh pants, covering his notes in a fine layer of decay.

He blinks and blinks again, raising a shaking hand to his face and removing his spectacles. Even as he rubs at his eyes, though, they can't connect. No matter how hard he tries he cannot figure out where he is. When. "Charles...We need..." Charles doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't answer, Charles is dead. Franz can see his corpse, slumped against the far wall, as clear and as fresh as the day he died.
Of course, to the casual observer, nothing is there.

The good doctor's legs give out, sending a whole set of vials to the floor in a loud crash as his hands scramble for purchase. "The...We need..." His voice is quiet, weak like a frightened child. "No no no..."

Lady of the Lake|Eadgyd|Edith|Homeless|Kelpie|Tagged: Arc

"Wot? Am I not 'llowed to walk in the woods anymore?" The woman responds in outrage, as if she's sick of people questioning her motives today. "Ain't like you got nothin' to talk about. Reckon' whole forest and half the town heard you screamin' your trousers off. What's got you in a twist? Was it the squirrels? Or were you catching sight of some ghosts muckin' around in the water?" Her pulse of anger shifts to a sly smile, obviously teasing the shaken stranger. "Or was it the, oh what do they call'em...The Lady of the Lake? You seein' stories, mate?" She can't help but snicker at her own joke, obviously too amused by the situation.

[doc .]

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xxx━━━━━━ Ludwig ━━━━━━ xX
xxxHe/Him - Human - 18 yrs - tags: Eadgyd
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Arc was regretting his decision. Fully. Never should have taken this route.
He took after his father, in times of danger.
Screaming and getting upset.
He narrowed his eyes and tried to keep silent, just to stay calm and collected.
"No.. it vas not ze Lady." he said aloud
"I do not see stories zaht I don't believe in. You are insane to believe such nonsense!" he retorted while moving to grab his bags as he waded out
"If you'll excuse me I haff to go home now. I don't vant to hear any stories about zis lake."
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xxx━━━━━━ Holm ━━━━━━ xX
xxxHe/Him - Human - 27 yrs - tags: Vahl
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Hershel noticed that he had set the other off after mentioning that he had never heard of him. It was the truth, though. He had never heard of him before, but on the bright side now he could say that he has.
He sighed softly and shrugged a little bit
"You may call me Hershel." he replied while wringing his hands a little bit on the handle of the case he had.
He sat there silently, slowly looking around and shaking his head
"I was only going to try a few more hotels or motels.. before resorting to knocking on homes." he said
"You're more than welcome to join me if you wish."
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[Politics]

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xXx𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐑𝐗𝐄𝐒

001Attic 002A C K 003 Franz & Co. (?)
𝐓𝐋;𝐃𝐑 Responsibility? Interpersonal
Relationships? Artaxerxes uses his scarce
knowledge of childcare to do what he can.
Of course, his logic is a little flawed.

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Artaxerxes stood there for a moment, quietly trying to figure out was going on until the first vial shatters against the floor. It'd been a long time since he felt as though he'd encroached on something he shouldn't have. Avoiding personal discussion beyond that of a doctor's visit was something of a specialty of his, or so he thought. But this was...not a doctor's visit. He slowly got up from the seat, creeping up behind the littler man, like a ghostly spectator. He certainly didn't know what to do, thrown for the littlest bit more than a loop(rather, a series of loops, increasing in size, less thrown and more spinning violently as an excited child would a noisemaker).

With a horrid jolt of empathy gripping his shoulders, Artaxerxes slowly knelt down beside the man. He had to get him away from the mess, at the least. It wasn't his place to ask about what about Charles or the assistants had set Franz off, especially now that he could feel the shaky air nearby. It took him a too-long moment to take Franz's arm and shoulder to pull him up and back away from the pools of glass and mysterious liquid that'd now coated the floor and his notes. But...what now? What was he supposed to do? The last time he'd seen a creature in this state, it was a dying deer. A part of him had half-forgotten that people could fall into it. "Shh...shh...Friend, focus on your breathing..." He sort of set the doctor's back against his chest, so that perhaps his heartbeat would give him something else to focus on. A rythm - breathing, heartbeat, maybe humming - were all things that'd worked with children for him, so perhaps he could do some good using the same techniques.

[MacabreSmile]

Prince of the Damned|LeMarc|Head Butler|Half-Demon|Tagged: Lark, Arty, Franz

LeMarc races into the attic, taking two steps at a time, feet hardly seeming to hit the floor as he follows after the sound of the crash and suddenly he's in the dark of the room, scanning with narrowed eyes over the shadows.
In the dimness of the light he spots the large, hulking figure looming over a crumpled body and immediately acts without thinking. "Get back!" The butler shouts, raising his hand. In a rare show of his demonic powers, he grabs onto the figure and pushes with all his telekinetic ability, the force strong enough to send stray furniture rattling across the wooden floor.

Resident Scholar|Franz Joseph|Attic Hermit|Vampire|Tagged: Arthritis, his own mania

Distantly, the old vampire can hear his subject speaking to him, but the voice sounds like a fog. He coughs again, unconsciously trying to follow the direction of 'breath' by spewing out more mouthfuls of dust. Every breath he tries to inhale just adds to shaking up the mess of debris in his lungs and in a moment he's choking and coughing on the floor, hands grasping at nothing as he hears the sound of something crashing and snapping.

He hacks, hunching over the floor and all too soon something thick and wet falls out of his mouth in a clump, landing in some of the liquid and glass that has split on the floor. It's a hunk of spider webbing and...Well...Dead...um...Anyways, that's not even what he sees. He sees a heart lying on the floor, bloody and pulsing. "No no no, Cordelia!" He rasps, voice rough and broken as he scrambles to reach for the 'heart'. As soon as he touches the liquid on the floor, though, he cries out in pain, jumping back as if burned...which he is. His hands are scorched to the second degree.

Lady of the Lake|Eadgyd|Edith|Homeless|Kelpie|Tagged: Arc

"Gods, you're sucha stickin-the-mud, you know that?" The woman scoffs, glaring at the stranger. "You do realise this just makes ya the bloke who keels at pond scum, yeah? Ya do know that?" Eadgyd raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as if challenging the stranger. "Wanna be that chump? Yer own choice, I guess." With a shrug, the woman turns on heel and starts walking back into the forest.

[Politics]

youspinmerightroundbabyrightroundlikearec

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youspinmerightroundbabyrightroundlikearecordplayerrightroundroun

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The rich light of the Red sun poured in through the tall windows, stained in shades of soft pink and lavender as it casted its early morning spell on the world. The earth began to wake after a long slumber under a thick molasses night, the dead world opening it’s sleepy eyes, slowly pushing back the blanket of snow, reaching out to the clouds to part them, pulling back the curtains and being blinded by the breaking dawn.

The gaze of early spring sat too far off to reach the cold earth, even in the comfort of the Red warmth. A crimson gaze, weeping summer tears into the soil, saturating nature with her mercy, dipping her arms deep into the core of the earth and feeding on it like butterflies to nectar. The light, too, is an ambrosia that coaxes fourth a single life from the pillowy-soft decay of tranquil winter.

As the water cooled and the creatures of the pond fell into their slumber, there was a single beast who was rising to meet the wintry chill of late December. From the water came long hair, slick and glossy like lacquered wood. It seemed as though the creature stirring called to the clouds to whip up the rains, a quiet acknowledgement of its arrival. The Red was soon overcome by the flood of clouds, though a glimmering smudge had been left on the sky as it was swallowed by the shower. It was time for the great prowling creature, the star-struck beast of the primordial seas, to wake. The rain hushed nature, calling out for reverence.

After years of slumber, She finally rose from the mirror-like waters. She stretched out Her arms to touch the horizon, pouring over the ends of the world to explore the great beyond. A set of golden eyes, as they found their way through the sheets of rain and silken dark, flickered up to meet the hazy skies, uncertain, blinking through long lashes, pulling back their reach with Her two little hands. Her body seemed to be rendered with a soft brush, blending into the haze of the daydream earth, created by movement, flickering with Her eyes, flickering with the rain. There was no constance except for Her grace. The Woman had finally met the morning light, however faint. It smiled it’s wide smile back at Her, and there was still a radiance it cast, a soft glow, to fall through the cloudy drapes and trickle down over her with the rain.

Like a mermaid, The Woman was born again from Her own dream. Having risen to where Her shoulders and chest were above the water, She turned to see a little island in the water, as soft as She, blending with its greenish greys into the oyster-blue of the water, the lines of reality blurred like the wisp of cotton, even the silky sheen of Her hair was a look closer. She left a painterly stroke of water behind Her as she swam to the island.

The little island had a tall tree that wound it’s branches over the whole length of the land, a maternal grace to her shade. She cast herself over the dancing grasses, and often blended with littler trees about her. The Woman could hear little winter birds chit-chattering in its sparse leaves. Sitting in a hole in the tree’s bosom sat a mahogany jewelry-box, and She ran Her hands over the delicate carvings on its sides. From the box, She pulled out a fine-toothed jade comb, and made Her way to the rocky shoreline, shallow against the forested area, with long grasses springing up at its sides. She dipped Her legs back into the water from the perch of a large, smooth rock and running the comb through Her dark hair. As She did so, She turned her gaze out to the landscape. It began to form as She willed herself to find it. The trees without their foliage turned wispy and brown against the cloudy skies, looking like clusters of finch feathers swaying slightly in the cold rain. There was a tranquility in the hollowness of winter, a somber silence that only little birds and icy rains could break in the deadness. The world had lost its lustre, and The Woman could not help but feel that winter was the perfect time to awaken from Her slumber. Nature was quiet, the little creatures were sleeping in the earth and water, deep under the grey sky, and it was left to those who had to wait for spring to ponder what they’d lost as the earth grew colder.

It would soon be time to wake again, to reach out with Her slender arms, down them running their delicate scars, woven like the wood of the little island’s tree. Here, where She was golden, and there, where She took the blue of the weeping earth, and brought it with Her.

[Politics]

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xXx𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐑𝐗𝐄𝐒

001Attic 002 ??! 003 Franz & Dynamic Duo
𝐓𝐋;𝐃𝐑 The red sun can't him from
here! Right? No? Great! Time to bust
out the world's most stressful game
of Dance Dance Revolution...?

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Artaxerxes's chest felt hallow, as if something had deflated and sunk to the bottom of his torso. He had no right to ponder or study the delusions of a stranger, did he? A chill shot down his spine as Franz began coughing harder. Nothing had quite registered for him, no, not yet. He reached out again to try to keep the man away from the mess, but there is a second mess. A mess of noise, something he can't properly hear, and all of a sudden he's on the other side of the attic, feeling quite a bit of dusty porcelain having lodged itself in the back of his neck and across his shoulders. A low, trilling growl rises up from where he stands now, and though inhuman it is certainly more one of confusion than of malice. ...Was that him? Wait. no. That...wasn't his voice, right? No...wait, wait. It's one of them, isn't it. I've already been found, hav-...there's no way. This must be one of the manor people. Go, get up. A rush of adrenaline spiked somewhere in the very core of his body, and pulsed through him with the pain. Was he going to have to fight someone?

It was too late before he realized that part of the glamour had been broken with the sudden shock, confusion and crash. Two golden eyes, the right one misshapen, following the side of some humanoid face, as if it was a layer under the skin and had been ripped open. There wasn't no anger in the expression, but in the dim light, there was a glint of metal. Whatever it was, it was long and thin, like a large conductor's baton. I can't afford to use anything that'll make his condition worse. "...Wait. Please, he's going to hurt himsel-" It was at that point that Artaxerxes could see the golden light on his palms. No...no...It couldn't be. It has to be one of them. And here I was, thinking I would find some solace in this place. It would seem he would have to fight. "...but you're here for a different kind of business, aren't you. You don't have to go through the spiel with me. I've...heard it enough times, I do believe." The figure raised the arm with the baton in it, and the room filled with some high-pitched cacophony, music that seemed desperate to catch up with itself, equal parts a swell of the orchestra and a fight to maintain the order of the music. To anyone around them, the room may well have had been dead quiet save for the creaking of the floorboards and Franz's pain. Between the two of them, there was a sense of nauseating panic in the room that made every step seem like an uneasy one. The floor seemed to swell and draw back, like a quickly-beating heart. It pulsated to whatever feeble sense of tempo there was to the oppressive music.

[doc .]

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Aerik "Bushman" Gunnarsson
25 yrs / Hybrid / Male / Tags: x
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Bush was out and about today, planning on hitting the town for a few things he needed before trying to find a shop that fixed his violin. He had accidentally left the case unlocked and on the table. When his grandparents passed by it accidentally fell and landed on its strings and broke. Now with a few broke strings he was unable to play it. He had to find someone who could fix it. He also wanted to spend a little money on himself. It wasn't that long ago, but he finally turned twenty five and earned a bit of money from his grandparents. He wanted to see if the town could offer him anything he would want. So while walking he looked about, passing many people but not seeming to notice. He was only focused on what the stores were. The large lanky man passed by a few stores but none of them seemed to be the type of store he was looking for. He gripped the violin case a little tighter in his hand as he cleared his throat and tried to ask around to see if anyone who was walking with him on the sidewalk knew of a music store that could repair broken strings.
None of the passerby people even stopped, nobody wanted to talk to him. He was a strange looking man with a strange plan, and therefore they wanted nothing to do with him. Of course he was wearing some questionable items, such as dark jeans, boots, and a large hoodie with the hood pulled over his head just enough to cover his ears. He looked like someone who would get into trouble, naturally. Even though he was a sweetheart on the inside it was really prejudice on the outside.
He got spun around, turning in circles trying to stop people to ask them questions when he staggered to the side and caught himself on one of the trees planted into a small square of dirt in the sidewalk. His eyes landed on a certain store across the street and his interest was piqued. The boy sat there a moment, watching the traffic before quickly striding across the lanes until he got into the store and looked around.
It wasn't a music store, but it was a clothing store. He grinned a bit and puffed his chest out, regaining his breath after the quick movements to get here, and adjusted his glasses on his nose. The man moved into the store to check it out, perhaps spend a few bucks on some new clothes. Besides he couldn't have his grandmother fixing up his trousers forever, it was best to give her a break from that.
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Arc Heilburg-Ludwig
18 yrs / Human / Male / Tags: Eadgyd
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Arc didn't understand a word the woman spoke, he was having trouble trying to figure out if she was speaking English or if he was hearing her in another language. It didn't help that he didn't know English very well in the first place. The boy sat there breathing in and out, almost panting from the sheer ferocity of his anger. He probably got it from his dad. Frowning at the woman who was now walking away from him he stuck his tongue out at the back of her head and snatched up the bags from the shore. She was a weird one, he'd be sure to steer clear of her at all times.
"At least I'm not a homeless hag vandering ze forest yelling at kids. I'd be at ze lowest of ze low to do zaht." he scoffed to himself, glancing back over his shoulder for half a second to look for the woman before looking away. He didn't want to invest himself too much in this stupid argument. Besides it was getting late and he needed to get home before his father called the cops on account of him not being home on time.
He began to walk back towards the trail, stepping in time. The boy's shoes were soft and squishy, something that was not pleasing. His shoes made odd noises with each step, and he shuddered to himself. The cold finally set in, he was uncomfortable and unhappy. The boy would have thought to cry but he didn't want to. It wasn't the right thing to do, no matter how miserable he was feeling.
Though he was on the right track home, he knew that if he kept walking he'd make it before dark and take a shower and feel much better.
Perhaps tonight was a night to pamper himself, after all he had gone through. It only made sense.
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Hershel Grey Holm
27 yrs / Human / Male / Tags: x
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Hershel sighed softly and gripped his bags close to his chest. He stood underneath a tree that was growing beside the bus stop. He was trying to keep a positive attitude towards what had happened. He moved to this place to try and find answers.. perhaps study a few things and jot down notes before moving on, and then going home. However it proved a lot more difficult to find people who would take you in off the streets, especially from a foreign country with an odd accent. The man tried to be kind to those he had run into, but there was something about his.. looks.. that seemed fishy to those who had 'open rooms' for him to sleep in. All he needed was a place to stay, but it didn't seem like he would be sleeping much that night.
The ground was still wet from a recent rainfall, his shoes catching the dew off the blades of the grass. He wanted to board the next bus and leave, find a different place and see if he could make it. But this place was calling to him. Not like the N̸̡̢͙͖̤̝͎̬̫͓̯̐̈́́́͘ů̶̮̯̦͈̘l̵̛̝̯͉̦̪̮̟̱̖͛͂̾́̾̍̓̑̐͒͜l̷̛̜̈́̋͑ element he had heard. He knew this was a different calling, it sounded different. The N̶̛̛̻̱̒̍͂u̵̬͕͎̲̱̬̓̾̄̕l̴͚͈͋̋̐͂̕l̴̢̛̺̮̗͕͇̾̓̓̓ was warm and gentle, smelling of sweet honey and vanilla. Perhaps a hint of raspberry. No this was a different calling, like Lavender and sandalwood. The taste of grapes and sugar. He could feel it right on his tongue and yet he didn't have the audacity to turn away and look for a different treat. He wanted this.. this place was what he wanted.
He sighed and set his bag on the ground for a quick moment, taking his large top hat off and dusting the dew off it, before sticking it back on his head. The man was now determined to find a place to stay, and if that wasn't going to happen before nightfall, he'd find answers on this place instead. Perhaps secrets or better yet.. questions.
Hershel pushed off of the tree and headed away from the bus stop, despite the vehicle not two minutes away. He could feel the Ň̴̡̳̗̭̞̯͎͚̦͒̇͐̓͠ͅṷ̶̢̦̹̜͇̠̼̪̝̉̐͜͝ͅͅl̶̡̰̱̠̩͓͕̒͜ͅľ̶̢͙̖́ pulsing in his brain and he grinned. This was his element, he knew this. The man moved to the sidewalk and while tracking wet footprints onto the concrete, headed onward. He was determined to find a place to stay. Leaving behind the option to escape, walking down the road of stone.
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Mishka Khabarovski
28 yrs / Were-Bear / Male / Tags: x
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Mishka had woken up from a midmorning nap.. mid.. morning. Really it was supposed to start halfway through the morning and then end a little after lunch. However things didn't go exactly to plan and the man woke up before then. He was hungry, and looking for something to eat in his fridge. He wanted eggs.. and bacon.. and hash browns.. you know, everything he didn't have. He frowned and growled to himself before shutting the fridge and turning away to head back upstairs. Perhaps it was time to change out of his pajamas and into some real clothes to go shopping in.
By the time he was done pampering himself and making sure he was all ready for the day, it was around lunch time for him. His stomach was angry at him and he had to leave the house in a hurry. He pulled his boots on and locked the door, making sure not to lock his boots and pull on the door.
Speedwalking, which looked more like a really fast walk for him seeing as he was so large, he headed down the sidewalk in search of the nearby marketplace. He had his wallet, his keys his-
He stopped suddenly, almost running over a woman coming out from the shop he had stopped in front of. On second look it wasn't a normal shop.. it was a cafe.
His stomach growled aloud and he moved away from the whole 'grocery shopping' idea and instead decided on having breakfast in this very quaint looking cafe. The large man towered over everyone else in line, standing idly for his turn. When it was his turn, he ordered a large coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a beautiful looking egg wrap. It took a bit of explaining to do since he didn't actually know the word for 'Breakfast Egg Wrap' in English and therefore had to point it out to the man behind the counter, who wasn't liking how the Russian was holding up the line. Eventually, though, they got the order right and Mishka shuffled to the other end of the counter where he waited for his food to be ready and his name to be called.
By the time they called his name (which turns out they had been yelling 'Micah' the entire time, and the man hadn't even realized it was his name only mispronounced) and gave the people behind the counter an angry retort that his name was 'Mishka' not 'Micah' and went to go sit down somewhere to eat in peace. No more dealing with stupid people who acted stupidly because they could.
He found a table in the corner that was clean and empty, and the man sat down and claimed the entirety of it to himself. The muffin was first (obviously) and he made a move to drink his coffee and eat his muffin for a bit. The wrap was warm, and would probably stay warm for a bit until he had been sitting there too long, which would have been a clear indication that he was to leave the cafe.
But for now he was to relax and enjoy his breakfast. Alone.
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Marc-Anthony Amserlen
30 yrs / Automaton / Male / Tags: x
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Marc-Anthony was sitting in the living space of the manor, on the couch with a book in his grasp. He had little half moon reading glasses over his nose and seemed to be very invested in the book he was reading. It was leather bound, old and worn. A very loved book, Marc had tried to finish reading it a few times and never could get around to doing so. It was a slow paced day so he had figured sitting on the couch for a little would be okay. Besides the grass outside was a bit damp from earlier and he did not want to risk getting his favorite pair of shoes and pants wet.
What seemed like hours passed, and the man still sat on the couch reading the book. After a bit he became aware that the book was a lot longer than he had originally assumed. He frowned a little and looked at how many pages he had left, then glanced up at the clock on the mantle across the way from him to spot the time. With a gentle sigh the man returned to his book and quietly continued without another word.
Another few hours passed and he glanced up at the clock to check his time. The clock had only passed two minutes. His eyes widened and he almost choked, quickly closing the book and setting it aside on the couch. Something was very wrong, there was no way this clock had only been through two minutes since the last time he spotted it.. the sun was high.. it was nearly midday!
While almost glaring at the thing, he removed his reading glasses and folded them up, slipping them into his breast pocket and approaching the machine on the mantle.
Everything was quiet, and his eyes were fixed to the arms on the face. He used his internal ticking to judge whether or not the clock was in working order. Turns out the clock was slow, perhaps it was dying. This made him a bit sad and he moved to pick up the item from the mantle. It was carved into a piece of wood, stuck in there by expert hands. Glass.. metal.. and wood, all coming together to create such a lavish piece. It almost made him smile. Just a twitch of his lip, he held the item and turned it around to try and open its back, to get inside. He suddenly spasmed, just as the clock ticked its last tock. A sad moment, but a painful one as well. He tucked the item under his arm and spun around to nab his cane, which had been propped up against the couch to leave immediately. He left his book behind for future readings, and headed through the halls to find a way to his hut. Though the halls were long and winding he was determined to save this clock's life, no matter what it took.
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Vengal Krishnan
19 yrs / Avian / Male / Tags: x
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Vengal felt like he wanted to fall. Fall off the face of the planet and never come back, there was no need to come back. He held a dandelion in his hand and a cigarette in the other. He had a headache as well, but he didn't have the option to toss that off the side of the balcony. He was standing on the balcony that overlooked the pool, and his shirt, which had been discarded earlier, was floating in it. A black shirt, it didn't matter to him anymore. It was either toss away the cigarette and keep the dandelion, only to slowly grow into a horrible weed and spread disaster to everyone else. Or toss the weed and keep the cigarette, keeping his poison to himself. But he needed someone to talk to, he wanted other people in his life. The hard part about living his life was his position. He wanted to talk about his feelings and his problems but he couldn't. He didn't have a dad or a mom to talk to, no living family members to do so.
He was in anguish, and wished he had some alcohol or something to take away the pain. If he could he'd talk about his problems all day, but that would just defeat the purpose of the cigarette. Or keep it all in and let it fester and boil. That wasn't healthy either.. would probably kill him faster.
He took a drag of the cigarette and exhaled the fumes through his nose as he lowered his head onto his crossed arms, which had been sitting on the railing. All he watched was the ground. His droopy sad wings lay on his back, unused and unloved. He didn't have the motivation to clean them up. Nobody cared.
He didn't care.
He dropped the dandelion, then the cigarette onto the ground. Lifting a foot he crushed the cig first, then lifting the other foot he crushed the weed. The man lifted his head to look out at the horizon with weepy eyes. They were red and leaking with sadness.
His feet made quick work of the shoes, which were off and sitting in the same place he stood.
The shirtless, now shoeless man leaned against the railing and continued to watch the horizon. His socks and pants would get wet.
With a single glance back towards the manor he leaned a bit too much and fell.
Flying.. downwards towards the ground.
He didn't feel it when he hit the pool, sending water everywhere as he sunk and sighed. There would be no death today, but perhaps to come close..
He was scared, he didn't want to die.. he wasn't interested in going out like that.
He swam back up to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out, sitting by the body of water with his legs pulled to his chest.
The man shivered a bit but the water put his mind in the right place and he was ashamed of himself for ever letting go.
Sitting by the pool, watching as the water raged around itself
x

[TrashGoblinQueen]

I r e n e // F e m a l e // G a r g o y l e // M a i d // T a g s : C a r l o s , K i k i , O p e n

Irene chuckled. "Well, at least that'll keep the staff busy... and entertained, if you're like this often." she unfurled her large bat like wings slightly, hoping to be able to glide around the tour as even though she had been ignoring it, her cracked ankle was still killing her.

"Well, let's go deal with this, shall we?" She grinned cooly. "Or, since you're so insistent on solving the issue yourself, let's go watch YOU deal with this while Kiki and I sit back and laugh."

"Oh, and Kiki, I forgot to thank you for the warm welcome." she smiled at the kitsune. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little giddy about meeting- and possible working with, a mythical as grand as you." back in London, there wasn't exactly a plethora of mythicals, which led the then-young Irene to read up on many exotic types and only dream of encountering them, which made being here even more special.

[~ moth ~]

[ｗｅｎｄｙ..ｆｒａｙ]
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[twenty two] [female] [human] [bisexual] [townsfolk] [location ,, outside manor] [crush ,, open] [mentions ,, none] [tags ,, open]
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click. click. click. pushing different combination of numbers on the tv remote wendy surfed the different channels. Lounging comfortably on her couch with her dog wendy found that her day off of work was becoming boring. Nothing much was on but the news and infomercials, and the cartoons nowadays were going downhill. Not that wendy even liked cartoons, but sometimes they were better than the junk that other stations play. However at the moment no station was appealing to her. With a groan she continued to click at the remote hoping to come across something interesting.

Reaching over to scratch spike behind his ear she found that the pit-bull was gone. Then there was a scratching at the door followed by a bark. The dog must know how to read minds, that or he too was being crushed by incurable boredom. Pushing herself up off of the couch wendy went to the front door to find spike waiting patiently for her. Grabbing a leash off of the key hook wendy clipped the leash to his collar. Leaving her home spike lead the way toward their favorite walking trail, the dog knowing the exact way since the duo had walked it countless times. Wendy flipped her sunglasses down from her head and onto her nose. Breathing in the fresh spring air made wendy feel revived. She enjoyed being outside and being active, and now that winter has passed she knew she would be out on the trails with spike more often.

All of a sudden spike deviated from the pathway, tugging wendy along behind him. Gripping the leash wendy tried to tug spike back onto the path, but the dog was stronger than her and pulled her off path too. where in the world are you going? No, spike, stop! but despite her commands the pit-bull walked with intent, weaving his way around rocks, bushes, and trees, going uphill then downhill, making his own path through the forest. Sometimes wendy wished a lap dog had followed her home rather than this hunk of dog. It would be much easier if she could just lift spike under one arm and carry him away.

Soon, though, the dog came to a sudden stop at the edge of the woods, a part of the woods that wendy had never explored before. Looming just beyond the forest were gates of great height, and within the gates a mansion of sorts. The walls ran off in either direction for what seemed like forever. What was this place? Why had spike brought her here all of a sudden? Where were they in contrast to town? These few questions bubbled in her mind, but the one at the forefront of them all was how do we get in there?


[ｅｖａｎ..ｇｒａｃｅ]
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[seventy ,, looks twenty-ish] [male] [spirit] [demi-pansexual] [homeless] [location ,, lecks forest] [crush ,, tentatively open] [mentions ,, none] [tags ,, katheryne]
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Looking to the old pictures hanging upon the wall evan took a moment to look at each of them. All were in black and white, that alone told how old they were. Dust covered the frames in thick coats telling that they haven’t been touched in a long time. i bet you could find some pretty interesting sticks along with those leaves, the spirit joked. Walking over to the pictures evan carefully wiped the dust off of the glass of one of the frames. The dust puffed up and floated through the air and evan, probably wasn’t the smartest idea since the room was already full of dust contaminating the air, however, he was too interested in the pictures on the wall.

It had been a while since he himself had been in the house so he had forgotten exactly what his mother had deemed worthy for the wall. This particular picture was nothing much, it was of a family. A mother and father standing behind four girls and a boy that resembled a younger evan. Nobody was smiling, that was how it was back then. If you smiled in a picture then you were considered insane. But even so evan had a small smirk in the image. It wasn’t hard to recall that day. It was the day his eldest sister was going off to college, the first of the family in a long time, and the only one. Neither of his parents had a proper education and all the children were homeschooled. Together the family managed to scrounge up enough money to send one child to school, his older sister who was quite smart. Hearing katie pipe up again.

Turning his head he glanced to where she was looking. it is. That’s mittens, the pest control. making his way past katie and to the bookshelf evan knelt down and picked up the sleeping cat in his arms. She made a small disgruntled meow before settling against evans chest. if you’re allergic or don’t like cats then i can put her outside.

[frostykitty]

Ａｌｅｘａｎｄｅｒ Ｔｒｅｌｌａ ｜ Ｔｒａｎｓ Ｍａｌｅ ｜ ２１ ｜ Ｃｏｏｋ
Alexander nods and glances at the floor. He guessed that, but was too afraid to assume. "Right! Of course." He lifts his small notepad and pen up, preparing to write. "Did you have any idea yet what the would be?" he asks cautiously, "I can check that we have all the ingredients for you, maybe start prepping some simple things."

Ｌｕａｎｎ Ｗｅｌｌｓ ｜ Ｆｅｍａｌｅ ｜ ２３ ｜ Ｔｏｗｎｓｆｏｌｋ
Luann grins, clapping her hands together. She looked satisfied with the decision. "Alright, even better. A volunteer! I legally have to cut you off at a certain point though," She holds out a hand to be shaken, "Deal?"

Ｔｏｒｂｊｏｒｎ Ｇｕｎｎａｒｓｓｏｎ （Ｖｉｋｔｏｒ） ｜ Ｍａｌｅ ｜ ５７ （Ａｐｐｅａｒｓ ２３） ｜ Ｈｏｍｅｌｅｓｓ
Viktor sets down a small cloth bag of belongings and a hard covered instrument case. He clears out a small area and stacks up rocks and wood around the borders. Finally, he tediously replants any weeds around the area.He missed his old gardens severly, and found himself paused holding a clump of hydrilla plants, simply remembering it in full bloom. He saw a familiar face there as well... she had always loved the garden, too. He growls and shakes the memory away. He angrily grabs his instrument from his case, an old, faded rosewood violin. He looks it over to make sure it's undamaged and gingerly grabs the bow before swimming to the surface. He takes a seat on the shore, feet in the water, and starts playing through a strange melody of haunting chords.