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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Printable Version

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 12-01-2014

<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Mind your feet, heed your mind, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]A path less traveled taken. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Off you go, oft to stumble, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Wandering, weary—vacant. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Pass beyond the moaning door, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Beyond the aching leer. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Stay while, rest your feet, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Enjoy the quaking queer. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Music we have much of, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Witches and warlocks. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Spirits like to sing, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]As goblins boil-toil pots. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Misty hands will prod-molest, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Will poke and grip or grab </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Plasma-white to ever strike, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]New life to trod the lab. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]We are never ever short for guests, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Nor the roaring plays and clamor. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]Just mind your feet, heed you mind, </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:center;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]While wandering-weary Lavenza Manor. </span>[/align]
<div style="text-align:center;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:center;][/img]"http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/LavenzaManorHeader.png" style="" style="font-size:10pt;max-width:100%;]

<div style="text-align:left;]<div style="text-align:center;]<b style="font-size:10pt;]Backstory[/b][/align]

The manor was established in 1845 by the wealthy Lady Lavenza herself. Fresh over from England, an heiress with no family left to speak of, she fled to the Americas to build a home and cultivate the kind of life she wanted. No one quite understood just why she required such a large and strange home just for herself, aside from the fact that people of money always liked to live in lavish spaces; however, some just imaged it was due in part to the queer nature of the woman. She was ever with her nose in a book or hovering over boiling colored liquids in the lab. Many imagined she would die, lonely and onto herself in those walls...


But, eventually Lady Lavenza did marry and give birth to several children of her own. The manor was quickly full of the kind of love and merry-making that made one's heart pour over in envy. Guests would come and go, and the home rarely had a weekend pass without an event--large or small--that brought laughing visitors and grins to servants' faces. Such was the way of life in the manor; so much so that few ever expected it to end.


But... end it did...


The story goes that one fond morning a friend of the family came over; he knocked, and yet no one answered. Curious, he was surprised to find the door appeared to open--almost--as if by itself. He was further surprised to find no one was at home--not a soul. More so, that things were left as if the one using them had merely walked away. Frightened by the curious turn of events, the overall chill of the home, he left and told others. The disappearance was disturbing, and, no one seemed to have knowledge of just what had happened to Lady Lavenza or her family. Soon enough, a caretaker was instated for the manor, as per the instructions of the will left by the lady of the house... until such a time that a blood relative could be found to inherit her substantial fortune and residence...


<div style="text-align:center;]Layout[/align]

<div style="text-align:center;][/img]"http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/FirstFloor.jpg" style="max-width:100%;" style="]
<img style="" style="max-width:100%;" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/SecondFloor.jpg]
[/img]"http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/ThirdFloor.jpg" style="max-width:100%;" style="]
<div style="text-align:left;]
<div style="text-align:center;]Setting & Location

<div style="text-align:left;]The manor house and its other adjoining homes are located along the upper eastern side of the city atop a mountain side. It sits next to a lake that flows into a river. Said river flows down the mountain and through the city, eventually meeting with the ocean border. The natural water sources allow for a constant drifting of fog at all hours, giving the 'village' an air of spookiness that isn't entirely unwarranted. To travel to the manor house from the city would likely take about an hour if you were to come from the farthest south-eastern point.

The overall setting is one of emptiness combined with presence; while it might seem as though no one is is at home, quite a few are. It's just... perhaps they're not entirely certain about making themselves known to visitors. Despite the overall ghostly feel of the home, it's not dusty or dingy; someone or something likely keeps up with the mess. Though, who is a question that might be one that can be answered.

Each room is a little different, but all have the expected Victorian appeal. Rich pastels are the forefront of the main rooms, kitchens, and dining halls while brighter colors take stage in the more personal rooms: like the bedrooms and sitting rooms.

Visitors who come to visit are not always of the 'normal' variety. Many who stay, linger, or take a peek are drawn in by the story of missing Lavenza family. Years have passed with none ever having solved the mystery. So, for the time being, it serves as a curious point of interest in the city, and, a place where sometimes the impossible is entirely possible.

One should always expect to get a little lost, that is, when taking the same steps the lady of the house once did.


<div style="text-align:center;]Rules
<div style="text-align:left;]
1. Do I really need this here?
2. I don't think I do.
3. If you feel you really need rules, see standard forum rules.


<div style="text-align:center;]Current Weather/Date

<div style="text-align:left;]Date: Month 1/Day 1/Year 1
Time: 1 - 2 PM
Weather: Cloudy; faint showers


<div style="text-align:center;]Author Notes

<div style="text-align:left;]The inspiration for the this thread came from a combination of old monster movies and the movie Hotel Transylvania. That's really the only was I can describe it. The kind of characters expected and welcomed should be monsters of all sorts, up to and including: vampires, werewolves, giant spiders, random gelatinous cubes, witches, ghosts, and even the cooky misunderstood scientist working in a lab. If you have any further questions, feel free to PM me.[/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align][/align]


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-19-2015

[/img]"http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The music was muffled—the song. He could hear notes faintly, always did. Sometimes he chased after them, wandering from one dark room to another, smoky-grey eyes swirling and peering. But, as with each and every time, there was nothing. The song evaporated, and, once more he was left in the silence of himself.

He was doing it again, slipping down a hallway near the entrance on the first floor. White wisps, tendrils, and plumes of something not wholly earthly gathered around him. They fell from his almost entirely bare form—if one could call it that. Some might say there was too much white to him, too much glow. The color of him and all that followed appeared to light up the area. Everything about the way he moved, glided, was more like caressing than walking. Even the golden runes that blazed along his skin: chest, arms, neck, legs, back and stomach appeared to dissuade the looming shadows.

It was as though his body wasn’t tangible, wasn’t there. And yet, he reached out and ran a finger along the peeling wallpaper, just barely pushing flecks away. And that action seemed unconscious; the expression on his face told as much—lost and straining for the whispered hymn.

Long strands of ivory blended into the alabaster flesh, the former tinted here and there in gray slips of color. From his body, hewn from marble itself, slips of fabric draped and blended into the white wisps trailing around him—consuming the hallway. Like a robing without sleeves, it trailed after him in a train. There was more of it hanging from his hips, sheer as could be. It clung to the floor, concealing his feet much of the time as he wandered into the main hall.

It was here he sighed despondently, feeling rather alone and unloved all at once in the forgotten manor. At the very least, he looked as much. Truly though, it was the song he missed.


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-21-2015

[/img]"http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag76/danixiewrites/Alaric_Reynolds-1_zpssrztspdl.png" style="Alrec Reynolds" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Doctor Alrec Reynolds, less "ghosthunter" than "ghost abusee" was vexed. Vexed, vexed, vexed. He tugged on his bow tie for an interminable moment while the dull thud of the front doors echoed through the vestibule. The resonance gone, he then turned on one heel to stalk into the great hall. "What the devil was that?" he demanded of a lamp affixed to one wall, then whirled and pointed to the third step from the bottom of the staircase. "All day, nothing but nattering on in my ears about how you're going to spook the spook-viewers and when the paying gig finally shows up, you clam up like a bunch of what, inert shadows?"

Honestly. How was he supposed to run a legitimate ghost tour business when the ghosts didn't even bother to show up? Was it too much to ask for even mild theatrics? Rattling chandeliers, obnoxious moaning, floating books in the library? He crossed his arms over his tweed jacket and frowned mightily at the banister, where he could feel, but not presently see, someone was perched. "Well? Are you but shadows?" A challenge issued, and one he knew they hated. Usually, it got a rise out of the host of amiable--mostly--spirits that made their home in Lavenza Manor. Not today. No one answered.

Alrec's arms dropped to his sides and his forehead creased. "They're going to leave reviews on Yeller citing boredom instead of excitement. Bad reviews mean less business. Less business means no one new to visit you. I thought you said you wanted company?" Sighing, he tugged on the edges of blond hair spiked more from this frequent expression of agitation than any application of beauty products. "Is it stage fright? Is that it?"

"I for one," said a ghostly figure who finally surfaced by the wall sconce, "am a trained actress, not a trick pony. And having strangers trounce through the halls? After the caretaker does such a fine job? What if you drag in someone with mud amok in their boots? Filth and rubbish in our fine Manor! And why give the living somewhat to criticize, anyway? The last reviewer said your name was 'Wreck for a reason'. I certainly wouldn't want them to claim we're a sad parlor trick. Do you know how insulting that is?"

"My name is not Wreck." He grimaced. His name had been 'Wreck' around Lavenza since the opening tour a few weeks ago, when he'd been stranded once more without the promised ghostly entourage and had had to merely shell out historical facts about the house's former inhabitants. The wealth of disappearances, a haunting mystery that culminated in a mysterious haunting, was enough to keep the gullible paying, but there'd been--somehow--a cynic along for the ride.

It was damned hard to find a cynic in or around Valesport--even if a lot of the mundane crowd had never been exposed to the city's supernatural underbelly, most still bought rhetoric about things that went bump in the night. Alrec was just that unlucky.

The translucent woman grinned even as she smoothed those voluminous, incorporeal skirts. "But it was on the Internet. So it must be true."

"Listen up, apparition. I have a doctorate in parapsychology and--"

"Oh, that's right. It's Dr. Wreck."

"Good day to you, ghost-kin. Good day." With that, he stomped into the library to retrieve his appointment book. Reaching a desk in the far corner, he pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he wasn't as vexed as he was tired. Tired of lamenting his financial straits, his own paranormal gifts, the failing venture of the only thing he was remotely good at, a distressing lack of sleep, the harbingers of madness which had drawn him to the Manor's mysteries to begin with. Wreck, indeed. "I'm just trying to help. Why does nobody get that?"


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-21-2015

<img style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png]For a time, Ambrose remained standing in the Great Hall, bits of swirling white rolling off of him and coiling on the floor. His arms hung at his sides as the curtains of eyes dropped and shut his world view entirely. While his head didn’t hang, it looked as though it should have been. He was so encumbered by his own inner musing, simple turmoil, that he hardly heard the door open or shut. But when the bang-snap rang out he slipped away—eyes flashing open briefly.

Had the guests returned? He had been told to remain hidden, to not be about when newcomers arrived, traversed, and peaked about. Alrec, the newest addition to their household—family—had made that explicitly clear.

Really, he didn’t understand why the others—those who could not be seen—were allowed to poke, prod, and whip the curtains to shock and amuse—to make people happy, while he was designated to watching, at best.

He was lonely; were they not all lonely? He had been lonely for… well, he didn’t know how long. All Ambrose really knew was some time ago someone had woken him up with their very presence in the manor. And from there, he’d been materialized into the world.

The manor wasn’t all that bad; there were the others, the dead who talked and chit chatted about who knew what. But Ambrose needed company…

Alrec should have understood that—understood that all he really wanted to do was please others.

And now Alrec wasn’t happy, it appeared. Actually, he hadn’t been very happy since his arrival. Not perhaps past the first day of guests. He knew why; and while he did know, he didn’t understand why the others weren’t inclined to assist. Didn’t they want company? The kind of company Ambrose thrived on? Did they not wish to hear the song he trailed after night after night… only to lose it? Did they not know that song grew louder only when people were in residence?

Once Alrec was trounced, as there was no other way to describe it, Ambrose found himself following after—slipping through walls as he did so… coiling smokiness following him and fading. He ignored the snappish remarks of the others in his wake—those talking about what should done or not done—those arguing about making themselves known in some way while others didn’t think it was a good idea.

It was hard for him to give his opinion a voice; he didn’t usually. No one asked. He didn’t offer.

When he slipped into the library it was then that Alrec made his final statement to the silence—to no one but himself. And Ambrose, not really knowing it was that kind of rhetorical statement, simply drew closer.

Coils of his white-mist reached around Alrec ankles… gently grasping… seeking… but, not in a way that was… forcible; he forece pressure there, making himself tangible just enough that Alrec would feel it. And as he did so, he spoke, “This Ambrose cares…” he murmured, eyes of mixing grey, black, white—like slowed storms in a marble, focusing on the doctor. “You are unhappy,” he also remarked. “You have been unhappy for a while…” His voice was morose, an echo. Ambrose did not like when the living were unhappy. It felt like a blemish, a spot, he needed to rub away—he needed to sooth and mend in the only way he knew how.



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-22-2015

<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag76/danixiewrites/Alaric_Reynolds-1_zpssrztspdl.png" style="Alrec Reynolds]Alrec's trousers pressed in around his ankles. It wasn't a repellent touch, but trouble was, as with most of the ghosts in the house, leaving a behavior unchecked for over-long--and some had dramatically shorter grace periods than others--was the equivalent of giving permission. He had no desire to suddenly be hanging from his toes from the ceiling, though hearing the ghost's voice he realized that wasn't the danger here. "Whooooa no," Alrec said, and jolted out of his miserable pose. His glasses tumbled to the floor with a clatter loud enough to induce a wince. "Ambrose, what have I said about sneaking up behind me?"

It could have been worse. He could have given in to the urge to slump over the desk.

Alrec sighed at the sad tone of Ambrose's words. The frustration from the hall leached out of him in a breath, leaving only defeat. "We all have our burdens." The doctor took a slow step backward and around his glasses to attempt retrieval. Eying the pale, writhing glow the entire way, the misty appearance sharpening dramatically once he'd resettled the glasses on his nose. He leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms. "Not the smallest of which is..." He cut himself off and shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure you know today did not go as well as I'd hoped."

Cocking a serious look at the other, he continued, "I gave cues today. Cues! And none of your peers seems to have the inclination to follow through with any offer of assistance. Why? What is there for me to do differently?"

He sighed again. For all the trouble Ambrose could potentially cause on one of the tours, he seemed a gentle spirit. Quite willing to assist. If said assistance wouldn't be a lawsuit in the making, Alrec wouldn't have put up very firm boundaries against his 'helping' during a tour. Still, at the least he was easy to talk to, once one got accustomed to the...smoke. "You're right, though. It's not...you know. I haven't been sleeping either, but I can't blame it all on them. Won't." He tugged on his hair for a moment, trying to shake his down mood. "I refuse to give up. Not yet. On any of my woes, nor on any that belong to this Manor."

Which meant he--and with some coaxing on the part of Lavenza's occupants, they--had to find another way through. It meant shedding his exhaustion for just a little longer, focusing on anything but himself until he collapsed. So the dreams wouldn't come. Briefly, he wondered how long he'd be able to continue on like this, then drowned out that thought by thinking aloud on the tour situation.

"Solutions, Ambrose. That's what we need. The tour is through that small portion of the house, all neat and tidy; I'm simply telling stories that don't feel like they hold weight when there's no chills or rattling or dramatics. Atmosphere. Lavenza has it in spades, but somehow it feels like it's, I don't know. Missing. Missing, perhaps, when I lead a group through. I could...I'd feel like a charlatan if I set things up like a dinner theater. Even knowing what I know about you lot--Who am I kidding? If I set things up, they wouldn't work either, would they?" His volume rose on the last question and he glared past Ambrose toward the library door. Then he lowered his chin and tested a smile he was afraid came out skewed and bitter more than wry. "What do you think about letting some cobwebs stick around?"


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-22-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Ambrose blinked owlishly at his initial response. For a moment he was confused, and then came the sense of feeling rebuffed. Had he done something wrong again? Then, he was distracted by the question itself. What had Alrec told him before? But then it didn’t matter. Frowning, he continued to listen to him.

His brow furrowed—knit. And then his lips pursed, and then didn’t. If Alrec were paying attention he would see that the apparition was trying to process all that he was saying; trying being the key word. Some of it sunk in. Most of it was just a lot of words digested by someone to dealt with feelings—wants, desires, grief, sadness, joy, and woes, and then some. Words…

Even so, he understood that the problem lay with the other ghosts. Alrec would be contented, overjoyed at first, if they would simply comply and perform for the guests. Could the apparition do so himself… he would. And it was on the tip of his tongue to offer once more. Truly. His mouth opened before snapping shut. He remembered what Alrec’s response would be, and, he was not certain he could handle the good doctor refusing him—again.

But then the question came, the silence. How would cobwebs help? Would that make Alrec happy? Cobweb had never held his personal interest. They crept in corners and gathered bits of dust. Dirty things; things he was generally indifferent to.

“This Ambrose does not understand how cobwebs would make you happy,” he finally replied after a series of differing facial expressions. He then stepped closer, tendrils of mist coiling further around Alrec, pressure once more placed to make tangible what was not. “But, This Ambrose knows that burdens can be eased…” In a way some might call it trapping; if that’s what it was, the ghost didn’t not see it that way. His purpose was never to cause distress.

Bare pale hands pressed into the desk to either side while his chest and torso brushed against the doctor’s. He hummed, eyes half shutting over the smoky mixture that was turning and twisting... lighting almost. “Can he ease them?”



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-22-2015

<img style="Alrec Reynolds" src="http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag76/danixiewrites/Alaric_Reynolds-1_zpssrztspdl.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]It was really inconvenient to have a ghost get a rise out of you.

Especially when telling said ghost "no" or doing the unconscionably rude 'walk-through' was akin to kicking a starving puppy with giant, soul-rending eyes. There was enough misery in the room just now without his adding to it. Alrec cleared his throat as the phantom pressure caging him in sent a warmth through his frame. "I, er. Ambrose," he started gently, since it could get most uncomfortable if he said nothing. It helped not a whit that his body remained annoyingly aware that he hadn't had a good, actual lay from anybody in months--well before he moved to Lavenza. The doctor shifted his hips but froze soon after as there really was no 'away from the ghost' in his present position. Thwarted by manners, he opted to skirt the issue altogether this time.

"Cobwebs were just a suggestion. It's not that they'd make me happy, per se. In a roundabout way, maybe?" Damn, but holding an unaffected discussion while a ghost tried to snuggle in close was more difficult than he'd thought. "With. Bringing. With the bringing in of more guests. Thought--thought maybe making people more drawn into the atmosphere of 'old, haunted manor' as opposed to 'clean, tidy--Ambrose, when I breathe you are very, very close."

So much for skirting the issue. Truly, he was very close without the breathing, but with it, the pressure on Alrec's chest increased as though he were pressing against a tangible man's bare chest instead of a ghost.

He watched the play of expressions across the ghost's facade and rushed to consider escape routes that wouldn't hurt his feelings. It's nice to be able to get burdens off one's chest. Too harsh? It's damnably vague and yet still probably too harsh. How about: Maybe later? Right. Because I don't already have enough trouble getting to sleep without...interruptions. Maybe it'd be best if he pretended not to understand this particular offer. Con the ghost into sitting down while I sip at a good cup of hot tea. Perhaps. A pair of sleepy blue-gray eyes met the ghost's smoldering gaze. "It is kind of you to offer help. Opportunities to get troubles off my mind are surprisingly sparse inside these walls."


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-22-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]If the apparition was inconveniencing Alrec in any way he didn’t sense it. There were other things he could sense, many of them from the other manor residents. And, he could feel that the blond was in a state of confusion and perhaps... anticipation or worry? The two aforementioned were so alike that it was hard to discern whether not one was feeling one or the other; especially when fear wasn’t present. If fear had been present Ambrose might have thought it was in fact worry.

When Alrec’s hips shifted, pressing against his own, it was hard for the ghost to not see it as an invitation—a physical query for more. Touch had a wide array of responses; pushing away could mean one didn’t want more. But depending on what facial expression came before and after, what other physical cues there were, it could mean something entirely different.

Amrose opened and closed his eyes slowly as the doctor spoke brokenly. His sentences were clipped, but clear. As he did so, the apparition’s face moved in closer—his entire frame did. That pressure he did execute to his body make it tangible was not cold; what warmth it gave off was made to be warm with something else entirely… perhaps something wanting and euphoric.

His lips were not close enough to touch without really moving forward; he stopped just as Alrec addressed him by his name again, citing just how close he was. He considered his next bundle of words—cobwebs and assistance. He tried to imagine, for a moment, the manor with a bit more dust and spook. While he did, not entirely distracted, tendrils of white coiled around the blond… perhaps unconsciously caressing and coiling up his legs—along his back.

“This Ambrose is not certain it would help; though, it would not bother him if you did so. He cannot say if it would bother the others, but he believes it might given the discussion about mud on one’s boots…

“What he wants most is to hear the song that eludes him; the hymn that whispers whenever the living walk the halls. He is grieved by how faint it is… If cobwebs will do so, he will not argue.”

At this his forehead moved to rest on Alrec’s; at the same time he sighed and his eyes closed entirely. “This Ambrose also wants nothing but to please Alrec.” His hands shifted, moving from the desk to gently rest on the other man’s hips. “To give him that which he knows he aches for.

“To ease that which burdens him, if even for a time.”



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-22-2015

<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag76/danixiewrites/Alaric_Reynolds-1_zpssrztspdl.png" style="Alrec Reynolds]A shiver climbed Alrec's backside and settled somewhere in his breastbone, where the persistent ghost leaned, pre-empting his reply with a stroke of fog over neglected nerves. The doctor had time enough to replay his own words, and his eyes widened as he realized specificity had been lacking. He was quite certain now there would be no tea. Too late to correct the slight now though; he might berate a belligerent spirit, but heaven forbid he interrupt one who was only being thoughtful.

In his own way.

And what was this about a song?

Alrec swallowed hard as the ghost seemed to take no heed of his personal space or proximity warning. Instead, he pressed ever closer, so close that when the doctor went to speak, his nose bumped Ambrose's. There was no way to be unaffected by the embrace nor the innuendo. Indeed, when ghostly hands settled on the waist of his trousers, his hips gave a helpless jolt. Countering this by a sudden straightening of his spine did not have the desired effect of distance either. Had he wanted distance? But despite the tendrils of sensation Ambrose offered, Alrec was no stranger to denying his own needs. Not when there were so many things to be done for more stranded souls. It made it easy to continue his valiant effort of avoidance. "There are those who seem like they would rather die again than see a speck of grain litter the halls. It would be a difficult argument to win."

"I'd bring it up, but the last thing I need is for someone to throw a fit. I'll end up with cobwebs wall to wall in my rooms. I just know it. Perhaps you can mention it to the others? Or maybe, I don't know...tell me more about this song you mentioned...It would be nice if I could fix just one thing..." His attempt at reasonable conversation faltered as the offer before him grew nearer to un-ignorable. That his words were brushing against the duality of tangible, phantom lips? Quite interesting lips? Lips less than a breath away, and--his eyes narrowed. "Ambrose. Is there a reason I should be finding your mouth incredibly fascinating just now?"

This was probably the wrong question.


Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-23-2015

<img style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" style="avatar" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png]When he jerked his hips against him involuntarily Ambrose hummed again; reflexively, or perhaps simply out of the nature of what he was, he moved with that motion—grinding against the other man. The front pads of his feet pressed into the floor; he leaned, in turn leveraging his body against Alrec’s, and likely causing him to push into the desk behind him. Gentle hands moved up from his sides; they slid along his waist, tugging fabric in some half-hearted attempt at seeking to remove it. Though, truth be told, clothes on or off were hardly a problem for a being such as himself.

In his own way though, perhaps he wanted to be certain this was what Alrec wanted. Even if he didn’t fully understand that he needed to be, some part of whatever made him to be what he was knew it to be so.

He was confused; Ambrose could sense that. That confusion came from a number of things, and, he couldn’t be sure if the confusion had anything to do with him.

“Perhaps it would be best to tell them that if they do not perform there will not be enough money to keep the specks away…” he whispered, having an unusual moment of clarity without the usual ambiguity.

His lips brushed finally, indistinguishable tiny shocks dancing a trail to Alrec's cheek. He exhaled a breath, giving it life as he went on whispering into his ear. “This Ambrose hears those which cannot be heard, those that want to be heard… They grow louder when the living visit. They sang blissfully when you arrived…

“Still… This Ambrose cannot find them….” And then he smiled. Like a cat, he rubbed his cheek against Alrec’s. But then he pulled back; his hands flattened against the blond’s chest, sliding once more up to settle on his neck. Fingers rested behind his ears and twined into his hair, thumbs on his sideburns. His met his gaze, stormy eyes alit with more white than gray and black. He moved once more so his nose settled just against his own and his lips barely touched.

“This Ambrose knows only one way to answer such a question, but, he is not certain if Alrec would like him to.”



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Kat - 02-23-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/zVze7Eq.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The first floor was spacious. Often, Loni crawled similar establishments to take pictures for her blog; a sort of adventure seeking site she dumped proof of her misadventures into. This manor had been entered through the terrace, any security recklessly neglected so she could roam the halls at her discretion, free from guided tour. Did they have any such luxury? It took half a day to backpack the wilderness surrounding the long deceased Lady Lavenza's home, but Loni had expected some resistance to her presence. After all, if it were a tourist trap of any sort, there would certainly be some fashion of staff to slow her meandering in favor of hokey historical jargon. Fortunately, none such individual had found her rummaging in the foyer, and she heard nothing as she traversed the morning room to seek what more could be found within the ancient dwelling.

By the time Loni had taken up a seat in the music room to sort through various books sprawled across one of many matching tables, she assumed the place ill managed and understaffed. Her blue eyes sought what they could make of the writings, looping text ornate and wild across pages on material she wasn't familiar with.

"Do you think the legend is true?" She asked the presumably empty room. "That the lady of the house and her family simply vanished? That doesn't make much sense to me. I'm sure if a proper investigation had taken place, there would have been evidence of foul play. From what I've read, they never found any remains - but they also didn't pick the place apart looking either." A smile crossed her lips at the thought, a hint of deviousness leaking through to hint at more than curiosity behind the question.

"No need to be so quiet. I know you're sticking close. Not like there's any way to avoid it."



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Ghostly - 02-23-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/kbKW5XB.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Death was not all that it was cracked up to be. There were no pearly gates, or gilded streets, no loved ones to reconnect with, no endless pits of fire and screaming tortured souls. Hell, there wasn't even the comfort of a true end. The afterlife for Bron Burgess was in the simplest terms, a bitch.

Eerie orbs of opalescent yellow hues peered down at the mortal he was destined to torture throughout their existence in an attempt to enact some sort of vengeance for his wrongful, and untimely demise. Loni had many habits, thrill seeking one of such. Which was how the pair had come to this manor in the woods, and how he'd lost his own life.

As she passed from room too room so to did he, floating up above on high as though the laws of the world no longer applied to his form, and when he simply phased through the wall above the door-frame with his translucent body it was clear as to why. It wasn't until Loni took a seat to rest that she openly spoke to the specter haunting her. While the words echoed the empty premise, Bron descended to his killer passing through her sitting figure to rest his rear on her lap. As a ghost there was no one else that could lay eyes upon him unless he desired it, so there was no need for subtly in these situations. In this close proximity it was quite clear to see the deep purple bruising around his throat that had been given to him by his dear sweet friend here before his end.

"What do you think? The fact that I'm still here should be reason enough to find truth in the most outrageous of stories." A bitter tone replied, clear as if he were still living as he leaned back towards a nearby table. A failed attempt was made at knocking her books to the floor with a scoff to follow. At best he ruffled a few pages here and there, what ethereal powers ghosts had were far overrated, or rather he was too fresh to the whole matter. Hovering away slightly he continued to humor Loni. At the very least it gave him something better to do than brood, and who knows, perhaps she'd get herself killed in one of these misadventures? "That said, in a structure of this size, if she did remain, the lady could be anywhere, under these very floorboards." Dropping to the wood bellow, Bron sunk grinning features beneath Loni's feet only to come up after a few moments. "Not these ones though, sadly."




Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Kat - 02-23-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/zVze7Eq.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]A sculpted ebony brow arched at his attempt to knock over books, causing her tone to shift into a slightly more condescending one. "Brawwwwwn." Loni drew the name out with a whine. "I can only apologize so many times. Really, how long are you going to be mad about it?" Not that she had ever been dead to know his troubles, nor did she really appreciate her part in his accidental murder. It was an accident, after all. It's not like she held a gun to his head and demanded he put the rope around his neck. The plan was a night of fun and excitement, and at the very least, Loni had gotten off to his untimely demise, meaning it wasn't entirely wasted effort. "Though, if something happened here, perhaps they stuck around as well." While he moved to peek beneath the floorboards, the blogger put down the text she had been studying and brought her hands together in a stretch. Cracking joints broke the silence, knotted together in a tight grasp.

"Do you think there's money involved? Obviously there's money in the estate itself... But I'm thinking hidden cache sort of thing. Weren't old timey folks all about squirreling away their valuables?" Loni was seasoned in many things, but history wasn't necessarily one of them. The story of the will and the legend of the manor itself were fairly well known, as this wasn't a new establishment and Valesport was a rather forthcoming rumor hub, but that didn't clear up the endless discrepancies the woman could come up with on the fly. "Maybe you could use your ghost powers and seek them out?" Of course, this would mean Bron would agree to help her, and the likelihood of such events was laughable.

"I'm surprised they haven't completely overhauled this place. I mean, wouldn't it make a good historical site for city revenue?" Rising back to her feet, Loni kicked at the flooring with a soft sigh. "Place could use a deep cleaning at the very least..."



Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Ghostly - 02-23-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/kbKW5XB.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Bron visibly cringed at his partner's elongation of his name as though they were friends. A lonely man seeking comfort in a night of passion with a stranger whom he'd met by chance, only to die in an awful accident. He'd known her longer in those state than he had alive. While much of the initial fury of emotions felt towards her initially had died out, by no means did he accept her apology, though it did help in the grand scheme of things. He did not know if her death would bring him peace, or if his presence was a punishment enough. There were no set rules to his kind of afterlife, but for now he'd not talk on the matter of his fate.

"A place of this size was likely quite extravagant in the past. With all of the available nooks and crannies to hide items, I do not doubt there are a couple valuables still to claim that have not been scavenged by family or thief." Bron traveled the spacious music room with silent movement hand examining the walls as though he could see through the woodwork and masonry. Whether or not he could he'd keep from diverging. At her claims of him assisting her in treasure hunting he had to stop and give her a quirk of his own brow as though to mock her. "While I cannot say that there is a large stash worth taking to be had here, even if there was I certainly wouldn't assist you in finding it."

Coming back to Loni, he took back up his seat on her lap, an ethereal digits brushing at her hair as though he was the faintest of a breeze. "Where's the fun, or challenge in having the ghost that is haunting you find all of the goodies while you sit back and watch?" He'd turn from the woman then, his back to her front, though she'd have no issue seeing through his translucent form, or seeing those ever striking yellow eyes.

The manor looked to have not been touched in ages, Loni was spot on in that regard. While he was no history buff in life, this new form brought a certain level of precognition; nothing of certainty ever came directly, but a gentle nudge here and there about what was going on around him either in the past or future. "The deed is in someone's possession then. Or else there would be no reason for the city or a company to come in and profit off of it through a project of some sort." The two certainly weren't alone, and for some reason that worried the ghost.




Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - megs - 02-23-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/M9Tcsf7.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;][size=small]Dahlia sat upright in her bed with a groan. The sound, though unnecessary, signaled her contempt to the empty room. Rousing before dark was not something the vampiress usually opted to waste energy on, but something about this particular day felt like a special occasion.

Despite the cover of clouds, the sun was at high noon, so even draping her legs over the edge of the bed left her feeling lethargic. Her light eyes slid over the bare room, lazily, as she waited for her energy to return.

The space could certainly use a bit of decorating, she'd done nothing to make it more personal since claiming it as her own years before. When she had done so, she had been under the impression that the elegant manor had been unoccupied. Empty, since the entire family had simply disappeared into thin air. Much to her chagrin she had been very, very wrong, but had stuck with her claim none-the-less, because it was in fact perfect.

Clawing fingers through her coal-colored locks, she stood and moved towards the door. She pulled a cashmere robe in deep red from the hook and slipped it over her shoulders, cinching at across her nightgown, before swinging open the door. Immediately, she was greeted with traces of light, filtered through clouds and trees and into the window to cascade across the hallways. She recoiled with a theatrical hiss, tossing a hand over her eyes. The show was mostly to prove a point, the rays had done her no actual harm. She made a lot of dramatic gestures for her own benefit, since there was rarely anyone around to witness them. Moving forward she did her best to stretch her arm and reach for the drapes without any of the offending spectrum making contact with her pale skin.

This slow process continued until she was at the top of the stairs on the main floor, and by this time she was quite annoyed with the entire manor. "How many times must I ask you all to keep the drapes closed?" The acoustics of the foyer carried her voice just as she'd intended, though she did not know who they would reach. "What kind of haunted mansion keeps all the drapery open anyway?" Her second statement was more of a mumble as she descended the stairs. She did not seem to care if anyone would greet her this afternoon, and she certainly did not desire to go looking for them. She did spare a thought long enough to hope that the good Doctor wasn't giving one[/font] [size=small]of his inane tours; the idea did nothing to lighten her sour mood. [/font]