Britwitch's Annual Hallowe'en Party 2014

[thestruggle]

She eyes the guests that mill around, occasionally murmuring admiring comments and raising a hand in casual greeting. The woman with the veil floating about her gets a friendly kiss and a small squeal of delight at the beauty her costume brings. Fun gets a wink and a dainty curtsy before she trips over to the bar. What do queens drink?

Can I get a lemon drop, please?

Perfect. Tart, pale - the kind of drink to sneak up on you and hit you over the head. She sips and lets the acidity run over her tongue with a shudder. Her wanderings bring her back to the group clustered around Brit, where she alternates between sipping her drink and swinging her skirt with one hand in time to the music. She's content to listen, with brief comments tossed in for the sake of staying social - but the atmosphere is engrossing. The castle is huge, filled with closets and doorways and dark curtains and strangers. She's lost enough in her musings that she's looking at the ceiling, and the milky sheen of her hair spills back. Tess probably looks a little weird - a little bit beyond, a little off. That's fine.

She comes back to the conversation and realizes she's missed some entrances. One brings a glint to her eye, with a fingertip tracing the shape that the corset wrapped tight around the new arrival makes - but only in the air. No touching.

Happy Halloween, Miss Alice. I love your costume. How's the vodka?

And the next, the candy stealer with blood on her shoulder. This place really does encourage stealth.

And you, oh prettiest of Serpentines. You look fabulous.

And the other, the lurker, with the mask and the otherworldly tilt to their features - they get a tiny ripple of her fingers and then she idly dabs at sugar crystals stuck to her lower lip. The edge of the martini glass could use a refresher. She listens to the various pathways the voices follow, sipping her drink. It empties, she refills it. It empties, she refills it. By the time everyone heads out on their explorations, she's leaning as gracefully as possible against the edge of the refreshments table and pondering a fourth. But, no. Brit's lifting a candelabra and the flames jump into shadows as Duchess follows, both of their costumes catching the light before the dark swallows them.

Shit!

Tess sets her glass down with a clack, looking distinctly less airy-fairy and demented as she hitches up her skirts to hurry after them. Every Halloween could use a hunt through a haunted house, right? Regardless, she's going. She neglects to grab a candlestick, but she figures the ivory of her dress is glowing enough for vision. Maybe. Once she gets up the stairs, though, it looks awfully dark.

Brit? Duchess?

She peers into the gloom, looking for the flickering candlelight.

I know you're in there somewhere!

Annoyance at her own attentiveness to the party's activities cause her to hurry forward into the tenebrous corridor. If it seemed too grim, she could run back and snatch a candle. Piece of cake. Or pumpkin.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Just as quickly as they'd come together, they are splintering off. A candelabra is taken up, and then two are drifting away from the group, off to explore other parts of the castle. The wide, blank eyes of his mask follow them for a moment, and then his attention is taken by another leaving, and suddenly the little gathering has been reduced to just two. Such a contrast between them, his eyes ping pong from one to the other behind the mask, though his head remains as still as the rest of his body.

The pale one leaves, then, and in a matter of quick minutes, the space of one song issuing forth from the band, he is left alone with the one so on display. Still, his attention catches on the one in white, and he follows her path up the stairs, the tilt of his head remaining even as it tips slowly back to keep her in view. In the instant the glowing ivory disappears, his attention clearly shifts to the one left behind.

His feet are still rooted to the same spot they were in when all had still been there, but now he is not so still. The tilt of his head moves, shifts, changes, alternating slowly from one side to the other as he considers her. Some moments pass before his feet finally move, and the circle with which he orbits her is much tighter, nearly an invasion of her personal space. Though the question could be asked just how much personal space one has when they have... put so much of themselves out there.

He drifts behind her, slow steps past as their shoulders nearly touch, and then stops just behind the other bare shoulder. Tipping forward onto the toes of his black shoes, he leans close enough that the hose from his mask grazes her back. The mask, so near her ear now, may allow her to hear his breathing if she listens carefully when the band is momentarily quiet.

"Mm," is the only sound he utters, a low and flat sound in his throat, and then he rocks back flat onto his feet, and continues his circumnavigation of her. The mask is pointed in her direction, constantly, his attention steady and fixed, and he stops once again when he's in front of her. The shifting, changing tilt of his head continues even as his attention obviously descends her body, close enough to her now that the space between them almost doesn't exist, and if she looks carefully at the wide, round eyes of the mask, she might see the liquid life of his eyes behind them, glinting in the faint light that filters in.

The hose shifts, sways as his head lifts, his attention ascending her body. Focused on her face, then, the alternating slow tilt of his head ceases, and he stares unmoving at her with tipped head and slowly rising chest. One gloved hand raises then, slowly but suddenly, his index finger extended and thumb pointed up, the international symbol for a gun. It begins almost at her throat, and slips through the air just above her exposed collarbones, pausing between her bared breasts. His finger-gun is held there for a moment, his head shifting to tip to the other side as he watches her face still, silent masked curiosity.

His thumb comes down then, a silent bang at her chest, leaving his forefinger pointing at her. Raising his hand, he touches her for the first time, two light taps just under her chin with the black leather of his gloves. The same finger still extended, it is raised up in front of her and then curls once, twice.

Come...

The silent beckoning.

He doesn't wait for acknowledgment or answer, but instead turns away, slow steps drifting him towards the stairs her friend in white had ascended moments before. The hose in front of him moves with the rhythm of his silent steps, bouncing slightly as he takes the first stair, rising in search of the wayward queen.

 

[saysalice]

Alice took Brit's hand, squeezing fondly, and leaned in to whisper promises of hugs and kisses at a later date, when she was not presenting quite so prickly. Stepping back to allow the other guests to greet the pretty witch, she waved shyly at the stranger in the T-shirt and jeans, and murmured her hellos to the other ladies.

Her cheeks flushed, even under the dramatic makeup, and her lashes fluttered in confusion at Tess's greeting - she felt her breasts lift and tremble with the breath she was holding as the White Queen's fingers very nearly - and then - didn't...silly. She was glad for the excuse to drop her gaze to her drink, smiling and quick to answer:

"Oh, it's - it's - strong! But very good. Thank you, I love your costume, too! Everyone here has gone all out, I love that!"

And yes, it had not escaped her notice - how could it? - that the masked man who had not come forward to greet their hostess, who had been keeping apart from the crowd, was slowly circling, slowly closing in. She'd been trying to keep tabs on him - if he was not within sight, she wanted at least to know where he was in the room - but she'd lost him in the fluster. She craned her neck to search over the heads of the partygoers, and then turned her head and shouted a curse as his vacant eyes peered back at her - too close, nearly over her shoulder.

She shuddered violently - and again, nearly shrugging out of the coat as she strode past the other guests with a watery smile, straight to the bar to have her drink refreshed. Resisting the urge to look back and find him again, irrationally afraid that he'd be there again, just behind her.

Sipping her drink through the straw, waiting for her pulse to slow to normal, she smiled again as Brit and the Duchess passed with a large candelabra to mount the stairs. She was letting the atmosphere get to her, she thought irritably. Just some creep, don't let him spoil your good time.

As she reassured herself with another sip, straightening her shoulders, she watched pretty Serpentine wander into the corridor to scrawl something on one of the chalkboards. Alice made a mental note to stop and read what messages the other guests might leave behind before the night was over, and to leave a note herself, perhaps. She made her way back to the dance hall, smiling vaguely as a familiar song from that Skellington movie reached her ears - and blinked -


She blinks in bewilderment to realize that every familiar face has disappeared from the room - she has just arrived in time to catch a glimpse of frothy white skirts disappearing around a corner. She scans the hall - the music now is a distracting clamor jangling in her ears as she sweeps her gaze across the room in disbelief. The few guests left are not people she knows well, and they have all split off into twos and threes to mingle - she's not one to approach a group of strangers uninvited, and she stands wondering what to do - none of them have even noticed her.

No -

No.

- that's not true.

No, no, no...

There is one, only a few steps away, who has devoted his undivided attention to her.

No.

This is like a nightmare, she feels weak from the knees down, she feels frozen in place as she watches his head move to tip in a slow arc from side to side, his round dead eyes reflecting none of the light. She tries again to straighten up, but it is more of a writhing motion, as if she would shrug out of her own skin. She's not sure of the expression on her face. The long black leather coat slithers to the floor, leaving her shoulders bare, leaving her dreadfully exposed. She should get it. She doesn't want to take her eyes off him...but so far, he hasn't moved.

Her jaw hardens and she bites off the word: "Creep."

Okay. Okay. Brit - Brit and Duchess - they're upstairs, you saw them go - so just - just -

She drops into a crouch, groping for the coat with one hand, keeping her eyes on him as she reaches wide with the other to set her glass down - damn these high heels - almost sending it flying - finally glancing down, just for a second -

Locking her knees to bounce back up, breathing in harsh relief to see that he's no longer in front of her, he's gone - creep - shouldering her coat and turning to go - and dropping it again with a shriek as she comes face to face with that featureless, alien face.

She moans as he does his slow shuffling dance around her, closing in on her - except that he can't possibly get any closer without - without -

She brings her arms up, hands balled into tight fists close to her face to keep from shaking, head ducked low - if he touches me, I'll scream!

What do you want? she wants to demand - make him speak to her, reveal something of himself - but she finds that she can't take a breath deep enough to speak. He's behind her now, and she wants to turn and look, keep him in her sights, but she can't make herself look.

He's stopped, and she waits, holding her breath. The scrape of the corrugated hose between her shoulder blades elicits a panicky, nasal bleat before she can help herself, and then the hollow sound of his filtered breathing grows loud in her ears. Though she cannot feel the heat from him through the mask, she knows that should she turn her head, her cheek will rest against his smooth pale cheek.

It's his voice that makes her close her eyes - tightly, nostrils flaring over thin lips as she hears him pull away and the scuff of his shoes against the floor. She could almost have believed she was being haunted, until that noncommittal grunt confirmed that there is, indeed, a man of flesh inside the mask. It's worse, somehow.

He's standing in front of her. For several long seconds she can't bear to open her eyes to stare back at that empty skull-face...but she can't bear not to. As she opens her eyes, she can feel her lips peeling back in a grimace over her clenched teeth - he's so close, and looking her over, now. She has not felt as exposed all night as she feels now that he is looking at her body.

He raises his head again to meet her face, and her lips are moving, trying to form words - some plea - but she can't think of what to say. When he lifts his hand suddenly, it all comes out in a mewling whine.

But he doesn't touch her. Another strange little shiver ripples through her. He is pointing - very close, but not quite touching, just where her throat bobs with a hard swallow, and then trailing his gloved index finger down, down... She has caught her breath again, afraid to move as he passes between her breasts and then stops. Her heart is pounding a hair's breadth from where his finger is not touching, and he tilts his head to look at her, and then he drops his thumb.

Bang.

And now she is shaking, now she could run - the fuck outta here! - and now, before she has even finished the thought, she feels his finger briskly tap her under the chin, bringing her attention back.

She has time to blink and then he curls his finger at her.

And he steps back, out of her space, and turns away without another look back.

Fuuuuck that business, and fuck you, too!

As she feels herself breathe again and watches him move away - away - to the staircase, as her heartbeat slows again and she watches him mount the first step.

No.

No way.

Bang - are you KIDDING me?

She turns back to glance around the hall. If anyone has noticed what's been going on, they haven't given any outward indication. It seems to her, again, that no one has even looked up.

She feels dizzy as she swivels again to watch the cloaked figure on the stairs. He's perhaps halfway up.

Tess is up there. The others, too. You can call to them, you can warn them.

Would she warn them?

She took a step toward the staircase, the tok of her hard boot heel against the stone floor echoing in the lull between songs. The sound seemed to spur her on, and she skittered after him, stumbling on the first step and gripping the bannister to hurry up the stairs.

You're a crazy person, the more rational part of her mind opined drily.

Oh, look - she answered recklessly, we all go a little mad sometimes!

 

[TinyDuchess]

Their ascent had been made with cautious steps on creaking floors, with only the light of the candelabra to push the darkness back. Silence prevailed, save for the sound of their breathing, as though both were too afraid to speak.

Arms and shoulders rubbed against each other, as they both huddled close and pressed in against each other. Their clasped hands silently communicating as their palms flexed and fingers tightened, gripping nervously at the other’s flesh.

As they came to a halt, at the mouth of a long corridor, she realized that her heart was beating at a distinctly rapid pace. The sound accompanied by the sound of her slightly erratic breathing was thunderous in her ear. Fear, it seemed, both quiet and swift would not be left behind. She found herself, jumping at the slightest sound, looking about nervously wishing she could see beyond the limited reach of the candlelight if only to assure herself that nothing terrible was lurking nearby.

She let out a harsh yet soft laugh on a shaky breath at Brit’s suggestion. She was certain that even in the dim glow cast by the candelabra her friend could see the doubt that she was certain filled her eyes.

“I suppose we could…” she said, her voice a low whisper – fitting considering she didn’t want to risk rousing anyone or anything that might be lurking nearby. “But which door should we choose?”

Suddenly she gasped her head whipping around to search blindly behind them “Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice shaking as her hand tightened its grip on Brit’s soft hand once more. “I hear something … a voice … our names…”

Her eyes searched the darkness once more for the source of that faded voice, before she turned back to the doors before them. She was suddenly eager to abandon their present location. Standing as they were in the middle of the hallway it would be all too easy for trouble to find them. But which door to choose?

Leaning in she whispered to Brit, “How about the second one on the right?”

It seemed as good a choice as any, after all neither of them could tell what awaited them. At least they were facing whatever fate awaited them together. As they moved closer to the door, she outstretched her left hand to take hold of the doorknob. She was certain her lovely companion would have done the same, had both her hands not been occupied.

Just as she began to turn the handle, she heard the voice once more calling out their names. For a moment she froze; was it her imagination or did it sound closer this time, nearer somehow. A cautious glance over Brit’s shoulder, once again revealed nothing.

Turning her attention back to the door, she had time to turn the knob and open it slightly before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, letting out a piercing scream as she turned to face the owner of that unexpected touch.

“Tess!” she cried relieved, before going slightly crimson with embarrassment.

 

[DesEsseintes]

<Having thought all was over and that he had missed the party of the year, Des Esseintes tiptoes up to the great oak door and knocks, just in case. No answer. He pushes it tentatively, and it swings open silently in spite of its bulk. The hall is dark, but as he strains his ears he can just hear footsteps and voices from upstairs. The atmosphere is still as he places a tentative foot on the first step of that great carved staircase.>

 

[prettyserpentine]

Wandering through the hallways, Serpentine can hear the light, muffled tones of voices talking lowly somewhere else. Probably carried along these old halls by the dark. Then the silence is punctuated with a piercing scream and her black void eyes are wide and frightened for a moment, her ears focusing but all sound seems to have been sucked out of the world.

Hello? Is anybody there?

Stillness and nothing permeates the darkness, and she squints a little, damning herself for being unable to wear her glasses that would afford her better visuals of creepers. But there's nothing, just the shapes and glints of light her imagination is fooling her with.

She opens a door into another hallway, this one curved, it's windows peeking out onto the dark mist that swirls around the castle outside.

Well, this is just a bad dream waiting to happen.

Looking around, imagining the sound of a creaking door, a couple of steps and silence. Her heart thuds in her chest, a rose creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, but of course it's hidden under her whitish grey makeup.

Is there someone there? Is that you, Brit? Tess?

Of course it isn't. She'd be able to hear their reply. They wouldn't scare her.

No one there...

...just the blood rushing in your ears and the panicked battering of your heart...

 

[thestruggle]

The cloaking dark settles around her, an odd combination of security and vulnerability. The only way out of this, that she can see, is to find the two women somewhere in the rooms beyond. If she has to flee back out into the relatively lighter party area, she'll writhe with embarrassment. Who scurries out of a haunted house? Friends that back out are always teased, she remembers, and she doesn't want to be the one stuck with the accompanying chicken dance. She has resolutely been wandering through the middle of the hallway: less easier for things to reach and grab. But maybe the girls are in a room? Any room?

Cats and rabbits would reside in fancy little houses, and be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers.

Singing a scrap of a song, as she bungles over to a door. Jiggling the handle, she finds it locked. Locked? In a party house? She raises her eyebrows and then backs away, looking overhead - as though some sign would be etched in the black pitch above her. Her heels move with hesitation over floor long smoothed with other steps - just how many is something she doesn't want to think about. The music from the party is flowing into her ears, but muted. Softer. Like she's shoved her head underwater to listen to bass beats. Tess hugs her arms around her, and walks a little further away from the action. For all the noise below, the acoustics still allow for sound to permeate. That's why she can hear the footsteps on the stairs. A little thrill accompanies the knowledge, as she starts to reckon who is upstairs and who is down. Downstairs. Alice is still down there. A grin as she considers the options, and then she's rushing to catch up to Duchess and Brit. Nothing like foolhardiness to chase away shadows.

She's rewarded, at least. The candlelight is only a few twists and turns away, and she ghosts up to them - placing a delicately cold palm on an unsuspecting Duchess. The accompanying shriek makes her jump, but immediately she's laughing. So much so, that she has to lean hard against the wall and wipe tears away from those dark eyes.

Oh. Oh, god, I'm sorry. But -

Still giggling, she pulls out a compact from a little hidden pouch and checks to make sure her eye makeup isn't running.

- I thought you would have heard me. Everything echoes back here, but sound also gets swallowed up. It's odd.

SNAP. The compact is replaced and she grins, a bit eerily, in the dancing light of the flames.

I heard Alice coming up the stairs. We should surprise her. Well, "surprise" her. Have you looked in any of the rooms? I tried one, but it was locked.

 

[Britwitch]

"Locked?" Brit eventually replied, her features showing a confused expression. "Are you sure? Old house, old doors. I guess sometimes they stick?" It was a suggestion and nothing more. She knew she hadn't locked any doors, nor come across any in her explorations of the house during the preparations for the party. None of that made her feel any better in that moment.

Her heart had started to calm down after Tess' surprise appearance in the dark but she was still trembling ever so slightly. Her dress shimmering with the tremors that resisted her attempts to quell them. She chewed her lip, glancing beyond the light in her hand to the blackness behind it.

"But Alice is coming you say?" The mischievous twinkle was all at once back in her eyes. "I think a little surprise would be fun. Nothing too scary but just enough to make her jump." Grinning she squeezed Duchess' hand, still held in her own and winked at the pale face before her.

"We could go back a little, towards the stairs, and wait in one of the rooms. We'll hear her coming and then we can pop out!"

It was juvenile and she knew she'd hate it if it was done to her but she also knew they'd laugh about it for months, maybe years, afterwards and that seemed to somehow make it alright.

Leading the way, candles dancing merrily in her hand in spite of the heavy dark that greedily swallowed their light, Brit stalked back down the corridor. There were several branches off of the main one and she didn't really want to get lost. Who gets lost at their own party? Plus being in the dark and unsure of the way out was never a good thing.

Once the faintest glow of light could be seen in the distance, Brit headed towards a door and tried it. Then frowned.

Locked.

"That's odd..." She mused. More to herself than anyone else.

She took a few steps along to the next door. Also locked.

A deeper frown now.

"I think someone's been playing a trick of their own."

Door after door was tested until eventually one was found that opened. The steps on the stairs were getting louder and quicker, no time to think and so she ushered the other two inside.

"Why," she whispered with a half hearted laugh as the trio cautiously stood inside, "do I feel like perhaps we've just walked into a trap...?"

 

[TinyDuchess]

Her heart somehow managed to make its way out of her throat and back down into her chest to resume its steady though somewhat rapid beat without any assistance. A wave of relief washed over her as her brain finally came to terms with reality versus its imagined terror. Her brown eyes were still as big as saucers; her face blanched and drained of almost all its rich color.


Laughter, though broken and stilted as she gulped in air, slipped past her curving lips as she regarded both of her friends - her eyes dancing between Brit and Tess. A surge of happiness mingled with embarrassment, and she could feel the color returning to her face. Her laughter turned to a full blown fit of giggling as she watched Tess attempt to catch her own breath, though for an entirely different reason.


“Guess we all know now which of us is chicken, don’t we?” came her soft blushing admittance.


She slowly became aware of the vice-like grip she had on Brit’s delicate hand and eased her hold slightly with an apologetic smile.


Scaring … no surprising … an unsuspecting Alice, would ordinarily have seemed like an awful thing to agree to doing. Perhaps it was the infectious way the mischief in both Brit and Tess’s eyes sparkled, there again maybe she wanted the comfort of knowing she wasn’t the only one who could be scared out of their wits tonight roaming these halls. Whatever it was she couldn’t resist. In any case, it was only a little bit of fun among friends, harmless really.


At Brit’s suggestion that they look for a room closer to the stairs to carry out their little plan, she was more than happy to agree.

“I’m in!” she whispered excitedly.


Soon enough the three of them were bustling along the halls, hands clasped and giggling softly like schoolgirls all the while. Several tries, at several doors left them wanting – strange to be sure, but stranger still as even Brit was confused by it. She was the hostess, she had found the location, set everything up to make everyone comfortable, so if locked doors came as a surprise to her perhaps there was reason for concern.

The sound of fast approaching footsteps and the pleasant arrival at a door which agreed to open to them, was almost enough to make her ignore the fearful chill that raced down her spine. As the three of them huddled together just behind the door awaiting the perfect moment, Brits words did little to quell her worry. She realized then that in their haste to get and stay hidden from their approaching friend, none of them had taken the time to actually look at what the room they were now standing in contained.

“I was just thinking the exact … same … thing.” she said, her voice though hushed and deliberate trembled with every word.

 

[thestruggle]

Her hands flutter together in gleeful and quiet applause at their agreement to her plan. Just a small ruse, nothing too out there. A hidden door, a girl peeking in, and then - BOO! With the other lurker wandering around, that seems mild. Her brow furrows at the thought, but before she can give it more consideration the girls have her in hand. The whispering, giggling - and honestly, probably a few stage pitched ooooh sounds are distracting enough that the masked creeper flits away from her mind. For a moment.

Yes, locked. Surely it's nothing, just some partygoers sneaking off for a quick one. Or a nap, maybe. Or -

She recalls some stranger activities, ones ending in inebriated collapse, apparently.

- erm, doing other things. But we'll find a good one!

As they move from door to door, Tess finds the lack of outlets to be more than a bit odd. But then, she has no expectation for them to be open, either. It's only Brit's uneasiness that catches, and hints, and finally has her looking over her shoulder a bit more than warranted. The footsteps on the stairs are much closer now, and she feels a need for urgency come forth as she leans to watch the last room with baited breath...

But it opens, easily, and they huddle inside with only some minor catching of breath. She catches the word 'trap' and immediately stills.

Well. Shit, I forgot, the mask person... they were still down there when I charged up here. I didn't - I should've taken Alice with me, I just thought there were still more of us down there.

She bites her lower lip and turns to look at the room they've ensconced themselves in.

Oh, this is silly. It's definitely her coming up the stairs. We'll just watch, and wait, and if it's not her... we can stay in here. The doors are sturdy, after all. And this room should be...

Her words falter as she realizes the room they're in is quite large, with black corners and features that go far beyond the view of their paltry candlelight. A different kind of dark than the hallway. Stygian. Perhaps there are more candles to be found in here. She turns to Brit, murmuring an apology, before she claims an individual candle from the unit in her hand.

I'm going to see if there aren't any more of these in here. It's a good a place as any to find some, the whole castle is dark as hell. Watch the door! Hide the candles if you need to, or hide yourselves.

This last instruction comes out a bit hissed, as the footsteps beyond grow ever nearer. Meanwhile, she traipses into the obscurity of the black - a task that she does not at all relish. She muffles a squeal as she knocks into an unforeseen table, her hip smarting from the blow.

I'm alright! Just... blind.

The last is muttered, and she continues her search. A flickering flame, and the light it threads through her hair and costume, are the only things that keep her from looking like a haunt of the castle. A thought occurs to her, and she whispers back to the girls,

What happened to Serpentine? Did you see where she went? I thought she was with you.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

When he found her, she was staring blankly ahead, transfixed by the sight before her eyes and the occasional clicking sound her finger would cause. She didn't even know he was there, he realized quickly, as she was clearly not expecting anyone to show up. Perhaps she had given up hope that anyone would. So, he stood for a short time, with his hands clasped behind his back and watched her.

She was startled when she finally found her eyes drifting away from the screen where her game of solitaire was quickly spiraling out of control to find him smiling at her.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed with a jump, the hand not covering the computer mouse fluttering to her chest, as if she would physically stop her heart from thudding. He uttered a short laugh and gave an apologetic bow of the head.

"Sorry," he said as he moved closer to her desk and pulled out the cheap plastic chair across from her, "I didn't mean to startle you, I just wondered if you might be able to help me out with something."

From his back pocket he produced an envelope, and then from within freed a piece of paper, the ink that formed each hand written letter dully reflecting the light as he held it up for her to see.

"I've been invited to this party and, with it being a Halloween party and all, I thought perhaps you would be able to help me with a... little surprise.

"Nothing bad!" he was quick to interject as he saw her brow furrow, "Just something I'd like to keep a surprise for as long as I possibly can. And your name will never come up, before or after."

He returned the invitation to the envelope, which was then replaced in his back pocket, and when his hand reappeared it held his wallet. Unfolding it, he shifted the corner of a few bills up, so the numbers at the corner were clearly visible. The wallet was casually stood on the desk in front of him, and he smiled at her again.

"I'd be willing to compensate you for your time, of course. I don't even need you to go out there with me."

Renting castles, he discovered while poking around on Google one night, was not exactly a hopping business.The occasional wedding, certain holidays like Halloween, the random rich jackass that liked to play king for a couple weeks, but other than that it seemed more a thing she was stuck with than something she made a good living from. So, he thought perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

Smiling still, he watched as her eyes dropped to the wallet and the bills peeking out of it, saw her gaze bounce from bill to bill, totaling up their denominations, and then she looked back up at him with an arched brow. He knew he had her.

"I don't know," she said, faking a little indignation at the idea that she'd help him just because he was offering her money, "What do you want me to do?"

His smile broadened a bit, and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the desk.

"Something very simple, actually," he said, his head tipping to the side a little, "I would just like a master key. Which I'll return after the party, of course."

He reached the top of the stairs, with the nail-faced girl not far behind him. He could hear the others in a corridor down one direction, the music was already quieter up here and the acoustics of the castle seemed to favor those who wanted to listen. With the last step up, he turned quickly in the direction opposite the collection of voices, not even bothering with a glance behind him lest they catch sight of the lighter color of his mask. The blackness of his clothing let him meld into the shadows with ease.

He was quick as he moved from one corridor to another, the black respirator hanging from his mask swinging and swaying with each movement. A small weight was in each pocket, little lumps against his thighs, tiny tools for the evening. How he would get them up here had, initially, been a bit of a mystery to him, something he would have to figure out as he went. That they came up here voluntarily was a gift he almost couldn't believe.

He is working his way around, circling so he can approach the group from a different direction, let them be-

Hello? Is anybody there?

The voice is near, so near that it surprises him, and he stops in his tracks. The tilt of his head returns, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he stills his own breathing to listen.

Is there someone there? Is that you, Brit? Tess?

Behind the mask, in the darkness, he smiles. It's a voice he recognizes, and a lone voice by the sound of it. He almost wants to tsk aloud at her for wandering off alone, but right now silence is golden. Besides, he should perhaps thank her. She has helped make things just that much easier on him.

His knees are bent, absorbing the shock of each step, keeping his feet light and silent across the stone floor. Around a bend in the stone, and she's in front of him, a short distance ahead and making her way slowly down the same hallway.

He crouches lower, his breathing slow and even, arms extended out to his sides to ensure he maintains his balance. She's talking to herself now, her voice lower than when she'd called out for the others, and he wants to smile grimly at her. Time for that later...

Step.

Closer.

Step.

Closer.

The last two steps between he and her are taken in a rush, his body crashing into hers as his arms snap around her like a bear trap hurled at her from behind. One gloved hand slips across her mouth and pulls her head back against him, the other arm snaking quickly around her waist.

He pulls back sharply, forcing her to lean against him in order to maintain any sense of balance. Time seems to slow for him as he drags her back a step to the last door she passed, and he hits the door latch with his hip, bumping the door open behind him. He follows it quickly into the room, pulling her in tow.

Two steps in and he pivots, spinning her away from him as if they were dancing and she was about to be pulled back in. Except, instead, his hands leave her entirely, leave her to twirl and stumble in the dark room, leave her to burn away the few precious seconds it will take him to find her feet and her bearings.

He continues with the momentum of his pivot, turning completely until he's facing the open door. One gloved hand grabs it, pulling it closed behind him as he takes the two quick steps out of the room. The door shuts with a slam that rattles it in the frame, a sound that echoes through the halls and, no doubt, reaching out to the rest in the group.

His other hand has been shoved into a pocket, and from it the skeleton key he's had for a few days now is retrieved. The handle is held firmly, pulled hard, just in case she gets to the door before he can lock it.

Insert key.

Twist.

Remove key.

He tries the latch himself then, and smiles when it won't budge. His shoulders relax a little, and he pulls in a slow, deep breath. He has a few moments, still, if they're going to come to investigate.

The key is pushed down into his pocket, and his gloved hand reaches into the other. The little cube is pushed aside by his fingertips, and instead he closes on the small cylinder next to it. Pulling it free, the piece of chalk is so starkly white that it seems to nearly glow in the inky darkness.

Reaching out to the door, he draws a single vertical line, then a horizontal one across it's base. A little line extending off the top is added as the final touch, and then he takes a step back to peer at it.

The chalk stands out on the door, three white lines right at eye level, the symbol clear:

1

With his thumb, the chalk is pushed back down into his pocket, and he turns away from the door. His steps are quiet again as he moves off into the darkness once more, keeping his back to the direction they'll be coming from. Darkness, moving in the darkness.

One down.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Her scream of shock is bitten off as the glove clamps over her mouth, smudging her lipstick and holding her tight. Too tight. Just like the arm now around her waist and she's stumbling back against him, feeling something alien against her back, hearing his calm, collected breathing as the back of her head thuds off his shoulder and she's against him, being dragged. Her feet struggle to find purchase as he's moving swiftly and sharply and all she can do is grip his arm and dig her nails in and try and save herself from falling.

But she needn't worry about that. Her muffled protests are hidden by the gloved hand and all she can smell is the musty leather of his gloves and her own fear. Her chest rises and falls quickly and the corridor disappears into black as they enter a room, also encased in darkness.

Trying to start a fresh bout of questioning, muted noises, her breath is instead pulled from her in a rush as the statuesque person behind her lets her go, spinning her out of his grip like they're doing some kind of a tango. The room is spinning and for...

a second ... then dark ... then a second ... then dark,

she can see big, bleak, circular glass eyes.

Spinning, spinning, falling in a billowing pile of skirts, facing the blackness, the doorway and the masked man behind her, it takes her a moment to find her legs and her senses. Her head whips around with a force that definitely doesn't help with the dizziness, her shoulders and body following a moment after.

A moment too late.

He's already closing the door. And she is nothing but a ghostly white face with black eyes illuminated by the foggy light from the corridor.

Wait, wait! No no no... Don't!

But he isn't listening. He isn't even reacting as she scrambles to her feet and tries the handle that simply won't budge.

There's a click.

He didn't. He couldn't.

You didn't. You wouldn't!

Her hands flatten against the wood of the door and then slap against it.

Let me out!

There isn't a noise. Has he left? Then, balling into fists, she thumps the door repeatedly, yelling. There's darkness all around her, pressing against her and she is pressing herself to the door for her freedom. Her frustration doesn't take long to dissipate as fear and the overwhelming feeling of being in here all on her own, or not on her own, just in the dark, and what if there's someone in here, and who is that out there? That unpleasant feeling starts in the base of her and scuttles up her spine, over her scalp.

Let me out! Let me out!

There's the faintest scratching noise on the door and she moves back slightly, unnerved.

Who is that out there? It's dark in here... Let me out, please?

Silence. She thumps the door again, knowing her cheeks are rose red underneath her makeup. And she spent ages making her mouth all pretty and now it's smudged. And now it's so dark, and she's so alone, and she's getting scared and trying not to be scared but it's so dark...

Oh this is just mean!

And the last word comes out as a scream that echoes through the dark. More thudding. More silence.

Let me OUT!

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

Brightwell looks at the woman on the bed. Then hears noises out side the door. He rushes over to the door. He turns the handle and finds the door locked. He looks back at the woman on the bed. She is gone! The room is semi dark. Only the light from the half moon bathes the room.

Brightwell tries the door knob again. Its still locked. He looks around he room. Then slowly walks toward the bed. He places a hand on the bed. Its still warm where the woman had been. He looks around again. There has to be a way out. On the farside on the room is a walk in closet. The door is slightly ajar. Was it like that earlier? He is not sure.

He moves slowly toward the open door. A cloud starts to pass in front of the moon and he looses what limited light he had. He reaches the open door and opens it slowly. The closet is dark and he can not see anything in front of him.

Maybe she came in here? He slowly enters the closet and reaches out with his hands. There is something there. Hangers! Wooden hangers. He moves to the other side of the closet. He finds clothes. And plastic bags. The clothes are in plastic bags. That would make sense. A closet would have clothes in it. He moves further into the closet. A small something hit his fore head. Brightwell reaches upward. His hand finds the object. Its a ring hanging on a small rope or string. He pulls on the ring. A light comes on. And for a second he can not see. Then his sight returns and he looks around. All he can see is one thing.

Red dresses! All different shades. Different lenths and different sizes.

 

[StarryEyed665]

Booted feet scrape against the cobbled floor as she busily adjusts her attire for the evening, pulling it up, shifting it around, fidgeting with her wings. She gives up as she approaches the door, lamenting her choice. Not the sexiest, nor the spookiest.

"Not bad for five quid though, I must say..."

She knocks tentatively, not quite wanting to disturb her host from her fun, not even knowing if anyone was in. She was considerably late, after all. Leaning mournfully against the door, cursing her tardiness, she nearly stumbles as the door creaks open of its own volition (her hand may have given the knob a tiny nudge; she ignores this detail). Stepping inside, eyes widen dramatically as she absorbs the vast expanse of the building, awe-stricken, feeling renewed reverence for the host.

"I will have to find her later, but given the size of this place..." she shivers, feeling slightly overwhelmed and more than a little out of place. "I'm a fucking ladybird."

Shaking her head, she saunters down the hallway, silently appreciating the chalkboard messages, stopping to draw a star on one, before continuing her journey, in search of her first priority. Food.

 

[saysalice]

Without his "eyes" on her, when he's not "all up in her face," she finds herself wrestling with her uncertainty as she follows the cloaked figure drifting up the staircase, keeping a safe distance in her awkward heels. Why is she following him, exactly? Up into the unknown, up into the dark? Hadn't he all but threatened her, just now? Certainly menaced her...had she liked it so much that now she is chasing him?

he said to follow - well no, he didn't say anything, but -

If he hears the pause in the clicking of her heels, he does not turn. He does not slow.

- if I don't follow...well - then, what?

She waits, watching him continue on without her - unhurried, indifferent. Then, pressing her lips together, she takes another step. And then another.

why?

She's not sure. She mounts another riser, watching her feet to place her heel carefully, trying not to think about it, trying not to listen to the nagging voice in the back of her head reminding her that she still doesn't know who's hiding behind that horrid mask, and what this is all about.

bang. rememb -

A blood-curdling scream halts her mid-step, and she clings to the bannister with both hands to keep from losing her balance as she feels the strength go out of her all at once, eyes darting wildly up into the looming darkness at the top of the divided staircase - only to realize that the masked creep has disappeared.

He's just - gone. Swallowed up by the gloom while she's been duking it out with herself. No way to know which direction he's taken. And then - that scream...

She shudders. No, she does not want to follow him now, but she can't just trip carelessly back down the stairs to have a drink and a laugh with the...placard guy. Her friends are up there, screaming. It could be anyone under that mask, it could be some psycho -

and now you don't know where he is

The scream came from the right. She has to help - do something - but somehow, she can't make herself take the next step. She might have stood there, frozen and staring helplessly all night, had she not heard the lilting, lyrical voice from off to the left,

had it not come from the left...

a voice she'd know anywhere, that accent she's half in love with.

Hello? Is anybody there?

Worried tones, but not panicked enough to have been screaming a second ago.

"Serpentine!" she breathes in relief, and clatters up the lefthand staircase, cringing at the sound she can't stifle, and turning in the direction of the voice.

And then - again - she hesitates. A low moan is strangled in her throat as she blinks, owly, waiting for her eyes to adjust and knowing with a creeping dreadful certainty that they aren't going to. Why hasn't she thought to bring a candle up? Why hasn't he? Night vision, built into the mask? Nothing would surprise her.

She can't see anything, up here. She can hear what might be someone muttering, might be Serpentine, and she wants to call out to her - it would be so nice to not be alone - but she bites her lips hard against the impulse. He might have come this way.

tok

Her pincushion face twists in an unseen grimace of strained annoyance. These fucking boots have got to go - there is no such thing as stealth in three-inch heels! She stops to catch the tab of the zipper in a pinch and tugs to part the shiny leather in a slow purr, baring one pale thigh and calf, sliding cramped toes out of the tight instep - and then another scream, cut chillingly short, and the sounds of a scuffle - of silenced protests and dragged kicking feet makes her clap both hands over her own mouth and stumble into the doorway of one of the rooms.

Her shoulders thump against the closed door, but in the struggle just ahead, the sound is lost. She hears quick deliberate steps, and keeps her feet still - and then a door slams. She can hear the muffled cries of a frantic woman within, and she exhales hot around her cold fingers - Serpentine's all right, then - and then the rattling and desperate banging on the door.

Nothing else. She waits in the shadows, the pitiful pleas of the other woman making her skin crawl as she strains to listen for the echo of footsteps, approaching or departing - for the sound of his stale breath hissing in the respirator...there is nothing else. She presses herself hard against the solid door and tries to gather the courage to leave the safety of this little alcove.

It's the silences between Serpentine's cries, growing longer and longer. She can't bear it.

She does, though, take a moment to slough off first one and then the other thigh-high boot. The stone floor is cold against her bare tiptoes, but now she can move just as silently as he.

It takes no time to find the right door. She puts her hands out searchingly, flattening both palms against it. She gropes for the handle and tries it slowly, so there's barely a click when she meets the unyielding resistance. Locked. Of course.

She listens to the desperation of the voice within, feels the shudder against her palms as Serpentine pounds on the door again. She has to let her know she's not alone. She opens her mouth to answer reassuringly...but can't catch her breath to call out.

She waits and just listens until she's sure

can't ever be sure

that he's gone, and after a particularly ragged cry, she wets her lips and murmurs just loud enough to be heard through the wood panelling.

"Serp? It's Alice. I'm here - I'll get you out."

somehow

She traces her fingers lightly along the door frame, not sure at all how she's going to deliver on her promise. She tries the handle again - why do people do that, as if they expect to just jiggle it loose? If she had something to try to pick the lock, maybe...

She pushes her nose in close until the needles protruding from her scritch at the surface of the door. Fear has robbed her voice of all projection, and she can't be sure that Serpentine will even hear her:

"I'll be back - I'll be right back, I promise."

Careless of the slap of her bare soles against the floor, she hurries back to the first room she passed, stubbing her toes against a thick heel of her discarded boots. If she can find something, a hairpin - anything - there must be something she can use -

The cold metal latch balks in her fist and she gasps sharply, stepping back, wondering for a brief horrified moment if there might be people locked in all these rooms - then she shakes her head. She knows of one, for sure. She has to help Serpentine.

Reluctantly, she drags her gaze back to the staircase and considers her options. She could run down and take the other set of stairs up to the screaming wing on the right - try the doors there, ransack the empty rooms, try to find the other women...or... She looks back over her shoulder, down the hallway she's just left Serpentine in. Or...she can plunge further into this darkness, trying the other doors here, knowing he's disappeared down this way and might be waiting behind any one of them.

Clenching her teeth to bolster her courage

these options suck!

she leans against the bannister and shakes her head, muttering, "My kingdom for a hair...pin..."

She would slap herself on the forehead if it hadn't finally dawned on her that she has at least a dozen pins at her immediate disposal.

Sighing, "Sorry, Serp...you're stuck with me..." she is about to run back down the hallway when a noise on the stairs gives her pause. Warily, she leans to peer over the railing, and her pulse quickens with wild hope.

A man wearing a dark suit is climbing the steps at a leisurely pace.

"Oh - please!"

She blunders down the stairs - forgetting, in her urgency, the rather startling figure she must present. As she closes the distance between them, she chokes on another gasp as she's able to take in the entirety of his costume - he is wrapped in a shroud, with spiders misting webs in the folds and clinging to his person. Even his eyes are partially obscured by funnel webs...but something about his face registers as somewhat familiar, if his name escapes her at the moment. A large black raven is perched on his shoulder, and with a pang of remembrance she is jolted out of her uneasy bewilderment.

"Please, there's a woman - Serpentine - she's locked in a room, upstairs! Can you help me try to get her out?"

Pinching his sleeve in a tight grip, she gingerly passes the other hand over her face appliance until she finds and begins to draw out one of the long pins. "I - I thought I'd try to pick the lock with one of these, but...I've never done that, before. Can you please just come and help?"

She is not-so-subtly tugging on his arm, coaxing him up to the stair on which she stands. At last, the gore effects plastered to her breasts catch her attention, reminding her of the first impression she must be making. She drops his sleeve abruptly, curling her arm up to halfheartedly cover herself. Feeling her cheeks flush automatically, even at a time like this.

"I'm - Alice, by the way."

 

[DesEsseintes]

He blinks in surprise, relieved that the festive spiders on his face must be obscuring what little expression the dim candles might reveal. His eyes, momentarily free of their inhabitants, flick down to the goo on her chest, but make no acknowledgement otherwise. The whole effect, in that near-blackness, of these slow, deliberate movements, is horrifying. He leans towards Alice, inexorably, and she feels the door at her back as she tries to step away...

And then, astonishingly, he holds out a hand, and smiles.

"Des Esseintes at your service, madam. I could pick the lock, certainly. But might it not be easier to simply unlock it?"

Mute with surprise, Alice shakes the hand loosely. Des Esseintes, if that is his name, fumbles under his jacket for a moment, before bringing out an enormous bunch of heavy, iron keys. She watches, too exhausted with fear to think properly, but aware of the strangeness nonetheless. Why has this man got keys to the house? And if he has the keys - who locked in Ms. Serpentine? Her fear sinks lower into her, no longer on the surface but somehow insidiously part of her, as the man flicks through the chain and chooses a red-rusted key. He inserts it into the lock, and with little apparent difficulty turns it, before stepping back to allow Alice to go in first.

Is this some strange courtesy, she wonders? Or danger. Why would he not go in first? And why has the prisoner of the room not immediately rushed out on hearing the door open? She turns, at last ready to begin questioning the stranger, only to find that the shadows have claimed him and she is, seemingly, alone once more. Panic begins to rise in her as she enters the utterly lightless room.

 

[StarryEyed665]

She is halfway through her fourth cake pop - a delightfully blithe pumpkin head - before a jarring scream ricochets off of the balustrades, blusters between the banisters. Her head begins to follow the audio, but she wills the involuntary reaction to stop halfway through its trajectory. Goosebumps prick relentlessly at her bare skin. She swallows.

"Christ. Well fucking done, Brit." Placing the treat down on the table, she rubs at her arms, desperately summoning some warmth back into them. "Really knows how to set the atmosphere. Goes all out, she does."

Still, she waits. Considers. Isn't it a bit too . . . quiet? She closes her eyes, tasting the remnants of cake, bites her lip, hearing nothing now but her escaping wisps of breath. It's a party. Where are the guests?

Calm down, calm the fuck down. Upstairs. Check upstairs.

She begins to move. The floorboards squeal beneath her as she makes her way to the staircase. And then she hears the voices from the stairs, hushed, obscure, fragmented. Familiar. Gone. The scream from earlier still echoes. "B-Brit? Serps? Anyone?"

Her words wander elsewhere, disappear, drown in the resounding silence. She wets the corner of her lips, which has grown chapped, and sucks down a steadying breath. Affixes a mask of composure. With care, but no caution, booted feet fall lightly onto the steps as she begins her sombre ascent into the darkness.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He was moving slowly, carefully through the dark, putting distance between he and the girl now locked away in one of the rooms, when he heard voices behind him. Not coming to him, of course, he was quite sure they had no idea where he was right then, and so that meant whoever was back there had heard, and had come to help the poor girl. He smiled behind the mask and half-turned back in that direction so he could hear a little better. He recognized the voice, even if he couldn't entirely make out the words, and that increased the curved spread of his lips.

Her voice faded for a moment, quieted, and his head cocked to the side, hidden brows furrowing. He took a few steps back in the direction he'd come, straining to listen above the occasional bits of music that would drift up from below. It was strange the way the castle seemed to be fragmented, though, sounds almost sequestered in one area and only leaking into the others occasionally. It seemed entirely possible to be up here with hardly an idea of the party going on below. He suspected it might be the same for those remaining below, with no idea of the shenanigans going on above them.

Another voice came into focus then, male and accented, and his smile shifted to a thoughtful frown. Silent feet carried him closer again, his head tipped as he listened to the exchange. It was an unexpected wrinkle in things, but then he supposed they rather thought the same of him and their adventures together in the dark. The door is open again, he can hear the protest of the old hinges, and he crouches low in the dark and begins to make his way back again.

A corner is rounded carefully, and he finds Alice with her exposed breasts and pin-impaled head standing in the open doorway. Serps, surprisingly, is nowhere to be found. He wonders if she had given up and was now hanging from the open window by a series of knotted bedsheets, trying to make her way to the ground rather far below. Or, perhaps, she simply assumed this to be another trap, and was on the other side of the room, wanting to put as much distance as she could between her and whoever was about to be coming through the door. Whatever the case may be, not only was Serps nowhere to be found, but it appeared Alice had been abandoned by her ersatz savior, as well.

Poor girl, all alone in the dark.

A quick calculation was done in his head. The others were on the other side of the stairs, but surely they had heard the screams and would be riding in to the rescue soon. Brit, Tess, Dutchess... how long did he have? A minute, maybe? Less, if they heard another scream. It would be cutting it close, but the opportunity was perfect and could not be passed up.

Her attention set on the open room in front of her, he fully expected to have the drop on her. The pins meant he wouldn't be able to cover her mouth - she did say it would be unavailable, he remembered with the flash of a masked grin as he moved closer - so any screams she may throw out would not be muffled by his hand. His time may be even less than he'd initially thought. He'd have to be quick. No mistakes.

She was close enough now that he would've been able to discern the scent of her, if his breathing was not so filtered by the mask. Close enough that he couldn't see into the doorway beyond her, to see what had stopped Serps from emerging. He didn't know how much time he had there, either, and with that clock ticking ever faster in his head, he made his move.

Reaching behind him, he hit the latch on the door across the room from where he'd locked Serps and pushed it open. As soon as the latch gave he shot across the width of the hall to grab the pinheaded girl. His left arm was around her waist quickly, almost like he was about to give her a comforting hug from behind. It was, of course, neither of those thing. His right hand circled around her too, and went to her throat instead of her mouth. There were other ways of stifling a scream, he surmised.

He clamped down tight on her throat, the hose of his respirator sandwiched between them as he pulled her back against him. He mask was close, the ends of her facial decorations scratching across the canvas of it when he pulled her back.

"Girrr," he growled, low in her ear, though the sound ended with a short but distinct, "...l." The width of the corridor was traversed once more, this time with him dragging her along behind. The same twirl as before, spinning her out and into the room away from him, throwing her focus onto that instead of the door still standing open and her potential for escape. His hand fumbled for the latch for a moment in the darkness, and then the edge of the door was grabbed instead and pulled hard with him as he slid out of the room.

The old wooden door rattled in it's stone frame as it slammed home, and this time the latch was easier to find. Once more he grabbed and pulled, holding the door closed in case she made it to there before the lock could be engaged. The key he'd paid handsomely for was retrieved from his pocket, pushed into the lock, and twisted. The lock moved into place, and the key was pulled free quickly. No time to relax yet.

He turned, passing over well-traveled ground now, to pull the door to the 1 room closed. The key was used once more, Serps locked back in place without taking the time to figure just why she'd not tried to escape out of the open door. There would be time later for such inquiries. For now, he heard feet on the stairs leading up as well, and the sand in his imaginary hourglass was quickly running low. The key was pushed into his pocket, and he took the couple steps one last time across to the door that Alice was now shut behind.

With a glance in the direction of the stairs, he pulled free the piece of chalk he'd used earlier. This time it only took a single stroke of the chalk to adorn it with the necessary symbol. The chalk was replaced in his pocket, bumping up against the small cube still kept in his pocket. A final glance was taken in the direction of the stairs, the opened doorway leading to them still empty, and he turned back the way he'd come.

Behind him, he left Serps in the 1 room, locked up tight once again.

Across from her, Alice was trapped now behind a door with a 2 scrawled on it.

Two down.

 

[Britwitch]

Funny how things never quite turned out like you planned. She had hoped for a fun party, a gathering of friends, in a spooky setting where they would all have fun.

Someone was apparently having fun if the screams that floated down the corridor were anything to go by. And, Brit had to admit that there were far worse ways to spend an evening than being in a room with two ladies as lovely as her current companions. Maybe it wasn't all so bad...

Focus!

But. Nevertheless, this was her party and she felt she had a certain degree of care towards her guests and someone had apparently taken it upon themselves to make her feel that her guests were not quite as safe as they could have been.

Huddled in the dark, candelabra held tight in her hand, with the sounds of Tess exploring their room in the darkness and with the Duchess' shaky breath catching her bare shoulder now and then, Brit could definitely think of times she'd felt more at ease.

The footsteps they had been convinced were Alice's had grown louder and then gone silent. Snatches of voices, like sighs as they drifted along the corridor outside, told them other people were definitely upstairs with them. But who they were and what they wanted...remained to be seen.

"I don't like this." She said eventually. Voicing the thoughts she was fairly confident they were all having. "I'm going to go and see where the others are." She nodded, more to convince herself that it was the right thing than anything else.

"Whoever has gotten hold of a key obviously knows their way around but then," she handed the candelabra to Duchess and eased a candle out of it's holder, "so do I!" She winked in the candlelight.

"If Alice comes by, do me a favour and grab her and pull her in here, ok?" Brit wet her lips as she moved closer to the door and silently nudged it open. "Serps is out there somewhere and I'm sure I heard the front doors opening and closing so either people are leaving or there are more guests to worry about."

Taking a deep breath she stuck her head through the open doorway and looked back down towards the stairs. She couldn't see, or hear, anything. Didn't mean there wasn't anything there though.
Ducking back inside she dropped her voice even lower.

"There's a small service stairwell further down this corridor, from the days of servants and such. A way for the downstairs staff to get up here with breakfast trays and the like without getting in the way of the gentry. I doubt our friend out there knows about it and it will let me get back downstairs and get people out of here. Then I'll work my way back up here and round everyone up."

She smiled weakly. It seemed pretty fool proof which probably meant it was doomed to fail.

"Just, stay safe and if you think you need to leave this room to do that, then do it."
Being careful to hold the candle well out of harm's way, she quickly hugged each of them. "Look after yourselves, please."

One last smile, braver than the last, and Brit ducked out of the room and pulled the door almost closed behind her. Turning sharply away from the stairs she scurried off down the corridor. For the first time that evening hating the sound her dress made.
"I sound like a bleedin' fairy!" She muttered to herself as the tinkling of her crystal bedecked dress accompanied her with every step.

Soon enough she found the small doorway she was looking for. Keen eyes might have noticed the break in the wall paper in day light but she was hoping the darkness had hidden the panel from whoever it was that was going around locking doors.
She nudged it open with her hip, freezing as she thought she heard a voice calling out her name.

She frowned. Someone else was coming up the stairs. Maybe she should...

No.

Downstairs and get everyone else out.

Hoping she hadn't made the wrong decision she eased her dress through the narrow door and slid the panel shut behind her.

The candle seemed so much brighter as she followed the winding stone staircase down, the comparative warmth of the stone to the blackness upstairs was reassuring, she almost winced at it's glare.

The bottom of the stairs came out just beside the kitchen, at the side of the main hallway. Pausing to glance at the blackboards she spotted a star drawn on one of them. Starry, who else? That must be one of the mystery guests she had heard arriving.

Turning on an overly bright smile she strode into the fairly deserted hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great sorrow that I have to tell you all that the party is now...over..."

Theatrical groans met her announcement and pleas for the band to play one more song.
Sighing and rolling her eyes, spouting some nonsense about the lease agreement meaning things had to wrap up or she'd be fined, she began to shepherd the last few guests towards the doors.
Grateful smiles ready for the compliments she received on hosting another great party, giving warm assurances that there'd be another social gathering organised before long.

Soon the last of the guests and hired staff were gone and the outer doors locked.

"I was always rather good at hide and seek," she grinned grimly as she picked up a new candelabra and began heading silently across the hall and starting to check the downstairs rooms. "But goodness knows which one of those I'm actually doing..."

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

Brightwell moves around the closet full of red dresses. In the rear of the closet he finds a panel and lifts upward. The light from the closet of red dresses filters into another closet. This must be the way she got out!he thinks. He enters the 'new closet' and moves forward. He finds the door and opens it slowly. This room is dark.

He moves into the room and finds a four poster bed. Ok now we are getting some where! He turns his angle away from to way he has come and moves forward. Slowly he makes his way forward. He feels that he has left a carpeted floor and now on bare wood floor. This means something. he slides his foot forward feeling his way over floor with his booted foot.

Slowly he makes his way forward inch by inch. His boot taps somethine hard and he stops. He raises his hands and finds a hard surface . He follows this 'wall' to the right and runs in to a chair. He stumbles some but find the arms of the chair and spins to sit. He pauses as he looks at the darned room. Then, he sees it! The tiny sliver of light. He raises him self and moves toward the sliver.

Now he is determined to escape. When he reaches the sliver he finds it comes from under a door. To his amazement the door is not locked as the other had been. He opens the door slowly. He loooks into the hall way and it is ablaze with light. He takes a moment to ajust his eyes. When he does he moves causiously down the hall. He sees the stairway and moves toward it. At the top of the stairs he sees folks moving toward the door.

He descends the stairs. He looks around a bit. " Is the party over? he askes a guy in a dark gray over coat.

"You gott it chum!" the guy replies. The guy speeds up and puts his arm around the waist of a slender blond. Then he is out the door with the rest of the crowd.

Brightwell can not beleive what he is seeing. "The party is over? I missed most of it trapped in a room then a closet." he says to no one. He slowly walks down the stairs passing the last of the guests. He looks into the main hall and sees a bottle of champagne. He enters the main hall and grabs the bottle out of the ice bucket. He then hears the front door close. He glances around and sees another hall way.

He walks toward the darkened hallway and tries the first door. It is locked. He moves on to the second door. This one is not locked and he opens it. In the faint light he sees the massive four poster bed simular to the ones upstairs. On the night stand he ses a five stick candelabra. He finds a draw and pulls it open. Inside he find a box of matches. He opens the box and removes one match and strikes the side of the box. It puts forth a small flame. He lights the unused candles and blows out the now reduced match. The light from the flickering flames dance around he room.

Brightwell looks around the room. " Nice place!" he mutters. On the far side of the bed is another night stand. He walks around the bed and puts the bottle down. He looks toward the door. He hears some one coming. He rushes over to the door and closes it quietly. Then rushes back to the bed. He slips out of his boots and layes on the bed.

The candelabra comes in first. Brightwell smiles at the woman. " Just because the party is over doesn't mean we can't have a little fun? What do you say?"