[M] Black Creek Manor [IC]

[Dearshul]

Bonnie was surprised by Hope's sudden appearance, but that didn't stop her from smiling when she learned they'd be roommates. Of the people she'd met Hope seemed to be one of the easiest to get along with. Bonnie flapped her sketchbook at her new roommate and said, "Nae, nae, you needn't rush off. I was just about to explore this big old place. If you dinnae mind the company, I'd very much like to help you prepare dinner."

She set her sketchbook and pencil down on her bed and carefully adjusted her hat in the usual triplicate before taking it off. Color rose in her cheeks when she realized how peculiar her habit must have seemed. "I... er... heh, I'm afraid you've picked a rather odd roommate. I hope I dinnae bother you with my little... um... quirks, I suppose you can call them."

[The Texan Queen]

Robert Croft… Now she had two names for two faces in the group, it wasn't much but it was a start. She knew at the end of all of this she would have to change their names if they didn't give consent for her to use them, but she wanted to have actual names and possibly pictures of everyone here. That Alan fellow she first met seemed harmless and safe, but also very sweet and kind, whereas this Robert Croft had a mysterious air about him. She planned on getting everyone's back story and figuring out who they really were before this was all over. It would be difficult to get information without everyone becoming suspicious of her and she didn't want anyone to not trust her, she would actually to keep any friends that she made during this week.

“Well, Robert, if you've come to me for haunted house survival 101 you have chosen the wrong girl.” She placed her hands on her hips playfully and cocked her head at him, “But, if you want to get lost on numerous occasions, get into trouble, maybe even get spooked here and there and have a grad time doing it…you've come to the right girl.” She had to admit having someone to explore the creepy mansion with her would be nice and having someone so good looking wouldn't hurt either, but he could also be a distraction.

“As for my room,” she said and looked around one last time with a pleased smile, “I'm quite happy with the one I chose. What's the point in staying in a haunted mansion if you don't pick the creepiest room they have?” Amelia winked at him. She picked up one of her suitcases and plopped it down onto the mattress and opened it. She had packed enough for the entire week and then some with plenty of outfit choices and makeup to keep herself satisfied. She had become an expert on packing as much as she could into a small suit case, unpacking and repacking would take a while but it would be worth it when she didn't look homeless everyday.

“Be a doll and grab the grey suitcase and just slide it under the bed for me,” Amelia instructed as she began hanging her dresses in the closet and lining her shoes up under each outfit. “Once I finish unpacking we can rally everyone else and find where they hide the liquor in this joint! I find alcohol to be a good ice breaker and it would be nice to get to know everyone else in the house."

[Squeaky91]

"Well this was a waste of time." Justin said and sat down. He rubbed his eyes, "Maybe I should try to go make friends, we are gonna be stuck together for a week." He said, leaving the study. He walked out into the hall, listening to the voices of people in the hall. He smiled, but soon the voices turned to yelling, then screaming. Bombs went off nearby, gunshots in the distance. He looked to see his C.O. yelling at other privates. He heard the gun shots, as his C.O. fell, blood shooting outta his head, and the others running away. Justin's grabbed a rifle, and ran behind a tree, breathing hard, ready to fire.

He blinked, standing behind a wall. He was holding an umbrella as if it was a rifle. He looked around, sweating and breathing hard. He put the "gun" down, shaking his head.

[Sy23]

It would not be too much of an exaggeration to say that at Amelia's expressing her approval of alcoholic beverages, the phrase "dream come true" echoed in Robert's cerebellum. This frail was intelligent, had looks to die for, and liked the drink. he was not, he reminded himself, the type to fall for a woman easily, and in any case his lifestyle tended to mitigate against such emotions, but... he fought this feeling down quickly. Dames were to be enjoyed and forgotten, not got soppy over. He'd seen a lot of good men go to the bad that way - or, more accurately, a lot of bad men like himself brought low!

He recalled a story told to him by a good friend, a New Zealand Battle of Britain ace who had survived the conflict and was now earning a fair living as a flying instructor. The anecdote had concerned a rabbit whose path home had chanced to cross a pair of parallel railway tracks, and - being too slow - had had his tail amputated by a swiftly passing train, though the animal had at least escaped with his life.

Not wishing to forfeit the tail, he had returned to look for it, only to be decapitated by another train passing in the opposite direction. The moral of the story, the flyer had pointed out, was clear. It was never worth losing your head over a bit of fluff. Robert reminded himself of this excellent advise, as he was forced to every time he looked at Amelia, heard her laugh, her spine-massaging voice, caught a glimpse of her magnificent form under the clinging outfit. As she unpacked her suitcases, he found himself speculating how she might look in this dress, or this suit, or this sweater. Somehow, he found himself wishing she might unpack her underwear, too, and magnificent visions of lacy champagne-colored or black cami-knickers of French cut panties and suspender belts swum before his mental vision.

"yes, it is a good ice-breaker," he said, in response to her remark about alcohol. He reached into the pocket of his suit, bringing out a small hip-flask. His emergency supply, for when there was no pub nearby. "And I think I might be able to oblige without us having to go on some treasure hunt," he winked, "if you can find a couple of tooth glasses or something similar."

[N a m i n e_600]

Kateryna was just imagining what it would be like to explore the forbidden rooms of the manor, when the door behind her opened.
She turned, to see one of the men from the bar who had sat not far from her enter. Alan was it? She thought she had heard someone say his name.
As soon as the chap noticed her he quickly apologised, and before Kateryna could reply he closed the door.
Not much privacy is there? She thought to herself, scanning the door and realising just how easy it was for someone to waltz in.
She pulled off her long coat, wearing a tight blouse and skirt beneath...it was surprisingly warm in here. Which was unusual considering the age of the manor.

Bending over her suitcase on the bed she began to unpack, pulling out clothing and items, her passport, lighter, notebook...
She hadn't brought very much, but then, why would anyone bring any more than they need?
Her hair rolled down her back to just above her shoulder blades in bright red, slightly curled strands.
She wondered if anyone would ask to be her room mate, and hoped not.
Nobody could be trusted, especially not people she didn't know.

[Cassiopeia]

Hope gave Bonnie a thankful smile.
"I think that would be wonderful," she replied on Bonnie's suggestion to help cooking. When she apologized for her behaviour, Hope laughed.
"To be honest I didn't even notice you did that," she replied. "Don't worry, everybody has their quirks. I've seen enough already."

Hope put down her suitcase and turned on the light on the nightstand. She ran her finger across the wood, examining the dust.
"This place hasn't seen the light of day in a long time," she said. She opened the curtains and a window, picked up the bedlinnen and hanged them over the windowsill. She patted the dust off the sheets and coughed a bit as she was overwhelmed by the accumulated dust. When the sheets were roughly cleaned, she folded them neatly and put them on the bed.
"I hope nobody here has asthma," she said with a joking smile. "I don't want to resuscitate anyone."

Hope unpacked her clothes. She decided against putting it on the shelves because of the dust; should she find a feather broom anywhere, they could always be relocated. For now, the bed would do. Lastly, she unpacked her small, compact first aid kit on her nightstand. It wasn't much - some bandages, some coughing medicine, some painkillers, some disinfectant - but it was enough to patch up anyone with a sprained ankle or a nasty cut.

"So tell me, what do you do for a living?" she asked Bonnie, putting away the last of her stuff, shoving the suitcase under her bed and straightening her back.

[Dearshul]

Bonnie gave a relieved little chuckle at Hope's polite manner. She would be a fine roommate, indeed. As Hope unpacked, Bonnie figured she ought to do the same. She pulled parts of a little ramshackle easel from her bag and assembled them in an out of the way corner of the room. It wasn't pretty by any means, but it got the job done. She set a nicely sized canvas on the easel for later. No doubt inspiration would strike fairly soon in such a place as Black Creek Manor.

Bonnie sneezed when Hope aired out the linens and laughed, "I should hope not. Who wants to escape work just to find more work to do?"

She pulled a small duvet, which accounted for the bulk of what she packed, from her bag. Once she had removed the dusty top layer of bedding and folded it to put beneath the bed, she spread out her duvet. She put her hands to her hips and smiled. Nothing like a touch of home to make a body feel comfortable. Next came her hairbrush and what little makeup she used, both finding a home on her bedside table. The rest could wait until morning.

Bonnie turned when she realized Hope was talking to her and blushed slightly, "I'm an artist, or at least I'm trying to be. As you might guess, it doesnae quite pay the bills, so I fish and bake from time to time as well. If we can find the proper ingredients, I can throw together some dinner rolls or some sweet buns for dessert. But enough about me. I imagine you've had some adventures being a nurse?"

[Cassiopeia]

"Ah, you looked like the artistic type," Hope responded to Bonnie. "I think it's a good idea to find those ingredients as fast as possible then."
She chuckled.
"I've never been very good at baking," she continued. "I can throw together a decent meal, sure, but never anything fancy."
Her smile remained unchanged as Bonnie asked her about her nursing adventures, but inside she felt a tad sad.
"Well, I wouldn't call it adventures," she said. "But there was plenty of work during the war. Been a nurse for six years already. I'm glad to say it's very rewarding work."
She paused for a moment, and looked around the room. Her smile faded a bit. Then she clasped her hands together.
"Well, shall we?" she said. "Let's see how well the kitchens are stocked."
She made her way to the doorpost.

[ｒａｂｂｉｔ]

Willa stood on the isle of Brùn, her back to where the North Atlantic dipped in between the outlying Scottish Isles making it a turbulent and unhospitable journey on the boat from the mainland. She was still a little green around the gills; you would think that living on an island would make one rather partial to seafaring, but Willa abhorred it. She felt almost the same about the sight before her: the tiny Scottish village wasn’t too far from her arrival spot, sparsely arranged around the small port. She grimaced. You have got to be joking.

Off to her right, there was a man leaning against a car – she did a double take to make sure that was correct – who seemed to be reading a book; she crossed to him, crunching lightly over the gravel in her t-strap pumps, made of soft leather and highly fashionable. So was everything she was wearing, actually: Dior or at least inspired by his New Look, midi-length a-line skirt over her silk slip and light petticoat, button-up blouse tucked under a tailored jacket cinched at the small of her waist and flaring out over her hips. Calfskin leather driving gloves covered Willa’s hands as she gripped her suitcase, her purse tucked under the same arm, swinging lightly as she approached. He didn’t look up. She cleared her throat and came to a stop in front of him.

“Willa, I presume?” She blinked behind her sunglasses and then reached up to slowly pull them down and look over the cat-eye rims at him.

“They said you’d be arriving late.” He pulled a pencil out of his breast pocket and wrote something on what appeared to be a piece of paper that was acting as his bookmark, since after he closed his book around it and moved to take her suitcase. She let him have it and waited for him to open the car door for her – which he didn’t. He didn’t. Willa curiously watched him as he placed her case in the back and then started to climb into the driver’s seat. She scrambled to open the door for herself and climb in when he started the engine, almost afraid he would leave without her. She didn’t want to be stranded at the village!

The village didn’t seem so bad when they arrived at the manor. It wasn’t that the manor appeared dilapidated or otherwise falling apart but the encroaching forest was a keen reminder that they were very nearly in the middle of nowhere and Willa was a city girl. She pursed her lips, painted burgundy. The manor had a heavy presence, like a predator squatting in the grass. Jack placed her bag beside her where she stood and departed. Willa glanced over her shoulder to watch the car depart and then began the trek to the manor’s front door, which swung open nearly the moment she raised her fist to knock.

“Oh!” She gasped and peered into the interior, taking her sunglasses off and lightly grasping them as she stepped up into the building. Willa wasn’t greeted by Abbott like the others, and she peeked around the ground floor curiously; she never heard the front doors close behind her. She gazed thoughtfully into the salon off the entrance hall and then moved through the double doors into the hallway; she saw the ballroom and the kitchen – her stomach growled, reminding her she was actually very hungry – but went the other way down the hallway to peek into what she found to be the armory. Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked around; next was the servant’s room and then she went to the next door across the hallway – which she found to be locked. The brass handle was cold in her hand and she twisted it again to be sure, but the locking mechanism didn’t budge and the door wouldn’t even move. Willa frowned at it and stepped back.

The rest room, sitting room and music room were all that was left to discover on the ground floor, so she headed upstairs to the first floor, gloved hands moving over the polished wood bannisters that were blanketed with dust. Willa grimaced when she saw the residue and blew it off. The first floor had no bedrooms, but a grand dining hall and a second kitchen; she heard voices up the stairs coming from the second floor so she ascended without fully exploring the first floor.

As she looked round, trying to find the source of the voices as she had yet to see anyone else in the manor, Willa rounded a corner and found a man – Justin – tucked up against a wall, sweating and breathing hard. She screamed. It was a loud, tinny and girlish scream; she hadn’t been expecting to see anyone so suddenly and his appearance startled her. Her purse and suitcase dropped to the floor, popping open on its hinges and scattering her belongings across the thick carpet underfoot that ran the length of the hallway.

“I knew it!” She cried as she collected herself from the scare, “I knew there would be some pansy scheme to place people here to scare us! It’s a hoax! There’s probably booby-traps too, aren’t there?!” Willa was viciously glaring at Justin, blue-green eyes harsh, all accusations and fury. Her British accent was apparent and her words enunciated.

[Squeaky91]

Justin jumped at the sound of her scream, his hand going to his hip for his side arm. It was gone, he was dead, no, no, he was safe. Away from the battles. He looked at the woman, shaking his head. "Mam, please try not doing that again." He said, but stopped while she yelled at him. "Trap? How should I know? I'm here to win money. Now if you don't mind, I need a minute to remind myself I'm not at war anymore." He growled looking at her. "And since when do we allow late people to join the game? The rest of us worked to get here on time. What makes you special?"