Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Printable Version
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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-23-2015
<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]"Yes," Alrec agreed, his hands locking around the edge of the desk at his back, "threatening the masses seems like a good plan. Sensible. There'd be no retribution on their part a'tall."
It would have been sarcastic but for the way his lungs had ceased giving him enough air to work with. These things happened when a ghost ramped up the charm from soothing caresses to out-and-out temptation. He gave a wooden nod against Ambrose's cheek. "The veil thins, perhaps, when more living are near?" He cocked his head out of habit, thinking, which fortunately left the side of his face and his neck exposed for further exploration.
No... Unfortunately. Surely that.
"See, this is what I've been getting at all along though. Foot traffic could really help. At the very least, it could help you. At the most, it could help those others...and I haven't even met them yet." So were Ambrose's missing singers the ones he'd had the dreams for, or were they caused by the needs of the spirits with whom he had made acquaintance? The answer alluded him as hands roved up the front of his chest, feeling exactly as if he weren't wearing the . "So we get more people in-house. More--a-hem."
It was almost a massage, the fingers that tangled up in his well-mussed hair drawing him further under the ghost's spell. He considered the word as well as those lips, rejected the former because it cast the blame for his lack of escape squarely on the otherworldly one's shoulders. Not a spell. Allure?
"Hmm? What way?" Slowly, almost a lethargic motion, Alrec's gaze lifted from the ghost's unusually fascinating lips to his fathomless eyes. His head seemed to follow, until he found his mouth pressed against Ambrose's in offering. Well. It was less like initiation and more like falling asleep. Giving over to an unconscious urge to stop resisting the inevitable. He blinked once, an entranced motion that ended with his eyes shut and Alrec surrounded by decadent comfort.
Which was selfish as hell.
His forehead scrunched with a pained expression and he dropped his face to the ghost's shoulder, his words muffled against the ethereal solid-but-not-ness. "We really should focus on the problem at hand. Not me--mine--this--The..." he made a sound of protest in the back of his throat, lifted a hand off the desk that almost brought itself along Ambrose's arm before he gestured vaguely and thumped it back down, "...everything else."
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-23-2015
<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]Distraction was a very human condition; becoming distracted to the point of not knowing what else was running amok was another equally human condition. And the fact of the matter was, Ambrose was anything but human—if he had ever been one to begin with. What he did know is that he was very interested in keeping Alrec happy.
He spoke to much; thought too much. Was he afraid of feeling for a change? Did he fear shutting off his brain for a while and just… immersing? It’s all Ambrose ever wanted to do, as if he’d been programmed to do nothing else but make others… elated.
“Alrec is speaking of the same thing over and over again,” he murmured, fingers gently rubbing a massage along his scalp—scratching just enough. “This Ambrose wonders if—.” When the blond came forward, lips resting against his own, the apparition stilled speech. He pressed back, naturally slanting his head to deepen the gesture—to seek more of that euphoria. At the same time, he released that suffusion of feeling into the man in his grasp. But was short lived. A distinct whimper escaped him as Alrec placed his head on his shoulder.
It wasn’t a matter of wanting so much as it was… wanting to give one what they wanted. In some way that denial pained him, but in no way did it cause harm. Some could liken to a child not getting a toy… perhaps.
Ambrose then frowned for two reasons: one, because Alrec was still focusing on that which he could not fix immediately, and two, because someone new was in the manor. And this someone had not been let in, but rather, had let themselves in.
His head turned, stormy eyes twisting with more black than white as he looked at the door leading from the library to the music room.
Were the apparition a flesh and blood man with selfish desires he might not have said anything at all; he might have just gone on wooing the doctor into distracting himself from his own problems. But, he wasn’t, so, he did speak up.
“This Ambrose wishes to know if you have invited guests into the manor.” At the same time, however, his hands slid from his head. Instead, the moved to wrap around him, to continue comfort. “If so, are these guests he can greet?”
It also appeared the vampress has awoken, but Ambrose had no immediate want to be the brunt of her ire.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 02-24-2015
<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]The doctor was struggling. Fighting both what he knew he should do, lest he be punished for putting his needs first, and what he wanted to do--shouldn't. do!--which was to give in to the distinct pang of need that had driven the part of him which hungered for contact to leave his head burrowed against a ghost's shoulder. It didn't help that his libido, not just awake now but also primed, was also loudly berating the ending of a kiss before it'd gotten really good.
His hands released the desk and came up to grip Ambrose's sides like the ghost could be an anchor in his own personal storm. And wasn't that just tops? Latch on to the intangible being, there's a good parapsychologist. Unaware of the disturbance that stole the phantom's attention, Alrec clutched him harder while he tried to get the conflict under control. A deep breath. There wasn't any harm in accepting comfort. Another deep breath. He could give this just a moment more.
What must this look like, he wondered, and was pleased that such an inane thought had finally crept through the more painful ruckus of his mind. He rolled his head so his cheek lay on a pale shoulder and his eyes could study the elegant length of a strangely warm neck. Ambrose was sturdy enough, but had he made himself visible to any of the other occupants of Lavenza who happened to stroll by? Or just him? Did Alrec appear to be hugging the air? He moved his arms around Ambrose as if he could test the theory himself, soaking in the warmth.
Oh, but he would suffer for this later.
With that lovely reminder, his internal battle continued to rage. So lost in it, he started when Ambrose spoke, a jerking motion that eased the moment the ghost moved to hold him in an embrace. "I have not," he said quietly, refusing to let his anxiety drive up even further at those questions. "There's nothing else on the books for another couple of days, and heaven knows I didn't keep many personal contacts in Valesport proper. Perhaps they belong to someone else? And if that's the case," he added, easing his head up from the ghost's shoulder to meet his gaze, "I'm not the one you'll need to ask."
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Kat - 02-24-2015
<img style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/zVze7Eq.png" style="avatar]"You're just being a prissy bitch today, aren't you?" Loni chided after his comment concerning not helping. "Accidents happen, Bron! I'm not a murderer!" Her voice had likely raised to an octave that gave them away, but she didn't seem concerned with such facts, given her partner in crime wasn't being very helpful. A deep sigh followed her outburst while her hands moved to sooth back dark strands, anchoring them behind her ears while her mind slowly mulled over their choices. If there was no cause to worry over whoever tended to this place, there was no reason the two of them couldn't ransack it and leave. After all, the thrill of the hunt was just as great as the thrill of the chase, if not greater depending on the prize. Valuable heirlooms? Irreplaceable artifacts? A stash of cash, or a collection of art?
Perhaps a smidgen of everything.
These were definitely more pressing matters than any concept toyed with in regards to being caught. Hers was a life without regret, and in such, one that often had near death experiences intertwined with otherwise mundane adventures. Still, Loni couldn't help feeling a bit hesitant with Bron seeming so pompous. Usually, he made it his business to drag down the mood with complaints about how long she was taking; his way of ensuring she made mistakes when there were mistakes to be made. It was his payback for her wrongdoing, even if she didn't admit having done anything wrong. Often the specter rushed the entire operation for the sake of striking out, though today he was wistfully compliant with the search of the premise. Almost too keen to have her gallivant blind through the massive manor...
"So what are you picking up? Is anyone around?" Loni questioned as she moved along to outer reaches of the music room, having once more ignored his ethereal brushes to run her finger tips along various musical paraphernalia. Sheet music here, an instrument there, so on and so forth until she stopped in the doorway with a small frown. While others may have thought she was speaking to herself, Loni long ago ceased fretting over what appeared to be insanity in the face of strangers. After all, it wasn't an easy task to explain a ghost, and harder still to share the story of why she was being followed by a spirit. "I know you're keeping something from me, so just spit it out."
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Ghostly - 02-24-2015
<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/kbKW5XB.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Bron had long since stopped giving his killer any satisfaction in trying to cleanse her soul of wrongdoing by arguing over his death. At this point, what was done, was done, and there were consequences and penance to be paid out. Still, if he had a book to mark down the instances where she had chipped away at his pride compared to moments he'd gotten her back in some way, Loni still most likely came out ahead. This needed to be rectified.
"I mean, there might be others in the room next to us that perchance could hear your yelling..." The ghost, still floating in the same place as before above where Loni had been seated made a motion to strike a finger at the door leading to the library, right where she was currently standing. "...but who is to say for certain?" Only then did he move from his spot, drifting through the air towards a set of large chimes hung from a stand. "I cannot say for sure how many there are, or who they might might be." Running his hand along the row of metal tubes brought them clashing into one another in a cacophony of bright sounds. "They could be intruders like we are, or better yet the proprietors of the property." With an overemphasized thrust of his arms, he actually managed to channel enough force to topple the instrument to the wooden floors with a crash that made even the specter cringe.
"That was rather loud, my apologies." Said with a sneer of a grin, Bron debated on checking out the upper levels to leave his dear sweet Loni alone to meet the other occupants, but then he'd miss the chance to witness the unfortunate scenario he hoped would unfold if that was to be the case. Instead, he needlessly used his feet to step over to a tuba held up in a brace. Why this out of all the other choices resided here he did not question. A hand placed atop the mouthpiece he produced a ghastly wind to blow through the tubing. Even though he happened to be a musician in his past life, playing a foreign instrument without physical contact was well outside of his skill bracket at this stage, so all that occurred was a deep bellow of a groan to slowly fill the room.
"Oh Loni, you came, and you strangled, and killed me, and now I'm here to stay." Whether or not he could sing was not a concern of the troubled spirit; which he indeed could not, it was all a matter of getting back at the one that kept him tied to this world through a flurry of powerful emotions and supernatural bullshit.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 02-25-2015
[/img]"http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/43610430-0187-4394-bc75-66e3feb453ea.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" style="avatar]Ambrose could still sense the conflict in Alrec, it still bothered him like a spot that needed to be rubbed out. However, the affection of his physical reaction shot a stream of pleasure thought the ghost. A distinct sound, something like a hum mixed with a purr, escaped him as the blond wrapped his arms about him and clung—in a way. In return, his own arms tightened a smidge; one hand moved up and slid into a mess of strands—cradling his head. Fingers rubbed—soothed—as the doctor relaxed into him.
All he wanted to do was ease that pain, that awful something that caused him discomfort. Ambrose knew in some way that visitors were the crux of it, but his mind couldn't grasp how to make matters better for Alrec. He so desperately wanted to make things right. Why could it not be as simple as a hug, a sensual caress, or even a long press of lips?
Many of the living, half living, even the dead took joy in such indulgences if they were able. Why not Alrec?
While he tried to figure out a way to fix this issue half of his mind sensed what was about in the music room. And there came a debate at the sound. The vampress has just arisen from her chamber; she would hear the ruckus, perhaps even sense the pattering heartbeat coming from one of the two. Ambrose, while not a complicated being, was not certain her morning had enough patience for such guests. He did not know if it would end badly or not. He did not think it would please Alrec to find a dead body in the manor; it certainly wouldn’t please Ambrose.
The living needed to come back, needed to visit, to linger for the song to continue.
With a sad sigh he pulled back and placed both hands on Alrec’s face to pull his gaze to his—palms on cheeks. “This Ambrose will return. Dahlia has awakened and will not like the sounds coming from next door.” At this brief and vague explanation he pressed a light kiss to Alrec’s mouth. Knowing he wouldn’t fall away with the desk behind him, he became intangible once more and slipped away.
His form shifted through the wall, white mist trailing along after him, pooling along his feet and falling off what ‘clothes’ he wore. Stormy-grey and white eyes first stopped on the woman, lingering briefly on the ghost in the room before going back to her. He was as visible to her as he would be to anyone that happened by at that moment.
For a time he merely looked at her, eyes slowly blinking and golden runes alight on his form. They seemed to almost hum, shifting and changing in brightness as he approached her. He wasn’t any farther away from her than perhaps one would be to have a conversation; which, to some might seem intimating when presented with such an apparition. But, Ambrose really had very little understanding or need of personal space. If it was too close for her, he was not yet aware.
When he spoke, voice a hymn of faint echoes and soothing chords, his hand reached up at the same time—knuckles running along her cheek, “This Ambrose knows you are frustrated, but wishes to advise that you not be so loud. The Lady Dahlia is not the best of company when she first arises.” His hand was made tangible enough that she would feel the contact just as Alrec had: a soothing warmth meant to remove ache and emotional turmoil. It wasn’t that his will was pressing into hers, not a spell of any sort, merely a knowing presence.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Kat - 02-28-2015
[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/zVze7Eq.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Loni was never far from Bron, any brief interstices served only to remind her of their connection. Not necessarily one she was in favor of having, though he never bothered to ask if she wished to be haunted, and Loni never cleared what their safe word was before his 'untimely demise'. That was the phrase that best explained how he died, without hint of murder or mayhem or sexual deviance. Bron was dead due to 'circumstances' neither could control, and the blame was on 'no one' because it was equally his fault for assuming she would go easy on him. Amateur mistake - but in his case, the only mistake either needed to make to be stuck in a space between the living and the true dead. Loni only sneered at how he reacted, crashing instruments clanging loudly against the hardwood as her apparition made an ass of himself.
"You're such a fucking pain." The comment might as well have been hissed, though it wasn't; rather, said with snark and sass and venom all the same, but definitely done so clearly. Vacuous little shit that Bron was, they had long since run through the list of her preferred insults for idiots, which meant she had returned to pointing out the obvious. The expectation he would change his ways was all together forgotten in her anger, and had it not been for the addition of foreign ethereal digits along her features, there may have been courser words of discouragement. Instead came a gasp so tight and wound up, it was reminiscent of a squeal more than any noise a woman was expected to make. Loni couldn't help hurdling backwards towards the room she had been intent on leaving, away from the doorway and the spirit possessed by it(as though she would be surprised by such things).
"Another one...?" That was her question. It wasn't in regard to any other resident the stranger mentioned, but instead focused on the specter speaking. Another ghost. Another Bron, only one which knew how to use it's powers for more than having a tantrum. Loni straightened with a cough and pointed from Bron to herself as if indicating they were together - which was something she often avoided doing, but as this was another being similar to Bron, maybe they were able to see the good-for-nothing lout. "Where did you come from? Were you here the whole time?"
Turning back to Bron with a scowl, Loni asked, "Did you just break all these instruments in front of this guy to piss him off? You really are a prick, you know that?" And as they say, the evidence spoke for itself. All the things he had knocked over and about were still on the floor, discarded and battered in the way older relics often were when stormed upon by the unappreciative. Maybe this new ghost could absorb Bron's power or something. After all the stories she had heard or read or watched concerning spirits, nothing of the sort would sound out of character for such a creature. Of course, this also meant she was painfully open to any sort of mischief and mayhem the stranger was looking to cause, and that didn't bode well with the woman.
Her footsteps could be noted as she stepped backwards a few times to create space between herself and the white specter. "Seems we're at an odd place to pause this conversation, and I'm well aware of that, but you mentioned a lady Dahlia? As in lady of the house?" More things to think about while the confusion wore off in favor of disappointment. "Are they close by? Or, I guess I mean to ask 'what does that mean to us'?" Loni kept it light and chummy between herself and the strange ghost, though chummy didn't always work, and aggression on Bron's part had them off to a bad start already.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 03-01-2015
<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;]Some insomniacs had hallucinations. He had actual ghosts. When Alrec had moved in to Lavenza, he'd been very clear about boundaries. It had only taken a week to realize that ghosts and boundaries really weren't words that went together, and another month for the battle for personal space to resolve itself. He'd adjusted, to most of the interruptions. Accepted that he'd never eat a meal alone even if physically he was the only one partaking. Tolerated the briefest of touches, but mostly still managed to outmaneuver them. Refused to budge about the damned commode being 4000% off-limits. The personal space now seemed to extend to the small rooms he'd rented on the third floor, too, since most of the spirits had become bored when they realized he was immune to being driven out and appeared unmoved by their antics.
To let Ambrose crowd him now, to give in to the feel of someone else under his fingers and mussing his hair, said worlds about either how much ground he'd slowly given way to on the "boundary" battle, or how troubled his state of mind had become to thoroughly cave to this reality. It wasn't a question of if he'd lost enough sleep to hallucinate but rather if he cared it might be a result.
He was man enough to admit that in this particular moment, he didn't. Not with Ambrose mussing his hair like this. Not when a momentary soothing was--
A loud, tinkling crash occurred next door. What the devil? Alrec stiffened, then answered Ambrose's quick kiss with a smile both wry and frustrated. "The visitors, I presume?"
Deprived of the spirit's solid-ish form in the next breath, the doctor leaned back against the wooden desk. His palm slid over the appointment book he'd come to claim and he scooped it into the crook of his elbow before considering the adjoining door. Possibly, it was simply the work of a post-tour tantrum. He shouldn't interfere. Even if it weren't an in-house issue, intruders and guests alike were the caretaker's purview. And on that point, Ambrose was right: Woe to any who walked on the wrong side of the rest of the Manor's inhabitants.
Which meant he was probably intervening on behalf of someone who didn't know better.
Alrec huffed a sigh. Guests. Would these guests be supes of the vampiress's ilk? Mundanes? More ghosts for his mind to fret about? He could help...lest Ambrose's greeting be of the sort that nearly accosted him on several occasions. Or...he stopped mid-step and angled toward the library door instead. If Dahlia was in a mood, perhaps--and that was a very small perhaps--he could divert her attention from the chaos next door.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Ghostly - 03-13-2015
<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/kbKW5XB.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The rabble that Bron was more than happy to create in order to irritate his soul mate came to an abrupt end the second Ambrose wandered his ghostly form into the same room. Whatever the reason might have been, Bron felt instantly unnerved, and if he still had veins for blood to run through, it would turn cold so to speak. Never one to stray more than a couple of feet from Loni if he could help it, it might have come as a surprise that he skirted the edges of the room opposite the pair. There didn't even come a chiding quip back to the woman in rebuttal when she lashed out. In fact if his body could be willed to he'd have already left the room. Here he was awkwardly keeping a distance, as if put off by the presence of another of his ilk.
There was a first time for everything after all, especially when concerning things most unnatural like himself and Ambrose, or this Lady Dalia he'd heard about and felt.
With Loni taking steps in reverse as so to escape the other specter, Bron hurriedly took to his usual spot right behind her, slightly elevated above unremarkable thin shoulders. "I won't do this often, but I do apologize for what I might have gotten us both into." Leaning down the words were let out in such a whispered tone as though they didn't hold any weight at all.
His current actions might have appeared strange for one who had no reason to fear much of anything. Without a corporeal figure, threat of death and pain did not bear much fruit. This one, this Ambrose was an older spirit by far though, and this place even more so. While Bron could not die, only pass on to the true afterlife, he did not know what could be done in the intermediate. That if anything, the unknown, put worry in his ghastly heart.
If this could turn into a simple treasure hunt he'd take the loss at messing with Loni for a spell, though right now nothing felt quite right.
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - megs - 03-22-2015
<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/M9Tcsf7.png" style="avatar][size=small]The vampire still stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was still as a statue. One arm hung limp at her side, while the other was extended to curl fingers around the banister. She didn't bother to breathe or blink. Only a slight movement showed at her jaw, where she clenched her teeth together. It was not very often that someone did not come to appease her. It was not that she was particularly violent, or dangerous, simply spoiled. She was kind enough in small ways when no one was looking to have gained a small loyalty.
Perhaps, once, a long time ago, Dahlia had been warmer; her voice softer, her presence less demanding. Perhaps she had been more tolerant and smiled all the time, but being soft and warm had gotten her into this predicament. Cold centuries had crashed against her like waves in a storm and stolen her warmth away as they cascaded back into the sea.
"I obviously find it very hard to believe that no one is home," she calls again. Her aristocratic tone carried through the main foyer as she dropped gracefully from the final step. The tiles of the main hall were cold enough for her to actually notice them against the bottoms of her bare feet. She adjusted the furred collar of her robe, as she moved towards the dining room. She had hardly taken more than a few steps, before a cacophony erupted from the opposite end of the manor. Dark brows knit together as she easily changed her course of movement. Her walk was fluid, filled with purpose, and the ways the long robe hid her steps was illusion enough to seem as if she was hovering.
"It's as if they have no respect for anything in the house." Dahlia spoke aloud even when she was unaccompanied. She liked hearing herself talk, and if others happened to end up in her presence, she wanted them to hear her talk as well. So far the start to her 'morning' had been less than ideal, and did nothing to improve her mood. [/font]
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 03-24-2015
<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;]Why was it people always had this reaction to him? Ambrose didn’t entirely understand. Still, grey-white eyes—sifting in a hum of color—focused on the woman as she backtracked into the room and away from him. He couldn’t tell if what she was projecting was fear, or simply a mixture of shock and embarrassment. She wasn’t running away though; a far cry from the few midnight visitors in black they had from time to time he attempted to say hello to.
The first question she asked, and then the pointing towards the man with her, had the apparition shifting his gaze from her to the man himself; then back to her. His brow knit at the second and third. “This Ambrose never leaves,” he told her. “Sleeps… perhaps too long, but never departs…” And then he frowned; the action was perhaps too pronounced, though natural. “Would you like him to go?” It would not be the first time someone didn’t want him around, that someone did not scold him from a room. Alrec never liked him around the guests; though he didn’t entirely understand why. Did people not like to be happy? That’s all he ever wanted to do—make them happy.
By the end of his train of thought the woman was already speaking harshly to the other man, the other ghost in a house of many. They appeared to be friends, but her tone indicated otherwise. Again, Ambrose frowned, but this time not as much. His brow furrowed.
At her next series of questions he was distracted, mind redirected almost entirely as she stepped back further and away from him. Were they? At an odd place? “This Ambrose does not think it is an odd place…” he murmured, considering what she said next. A hand came up and touched his lips as they pursed. “The Lady Dahlia?” he echoed her query. “She is not mistress of this house, but a long time guest,” he explained. “The lady of this house is here… but not.” another frown, another knitting of his brow—as if he didn’t entirely understand what he himself was saying. “Gone,” he whispered in finality. And then he blinked a few times to shake it off.
“The Lady Dahlia prefers the evening hours; she has only just awoken. This Ambrose worries that if you make too much noise she will not be pleased, and, he believes it is better when the living are happy.” If living people were happy in Lavenza then more would come; they would come and the song would be louder… not drifting on the edges of shadows.
It was then his ethereal gaze drifted to the other ghost once more… the one bearing marks around his neck of his passing into the space between tangibility and the long sleep. He… there was something deeply troubled about him—something that ached. It wasn’t like Alrec, but it was there all the same.
“You are sad…” he murmured, voice still an echo of notes half rolling over each other. He touched his chest as he stepped towards them, whispers of cascading fogs rolling off his lower half and from the drapery of gauze falling from his shoulders and hips—legs. His eyes closed as he glided in a way. His head dipped down. “There is pain…” he said next—hushed with a voice tinged in what could be that pain.
Ambrose found himself focused on the living when it came to such emotions. His ties to the dead were limited more often than naught; however, there was something about this man’s agony—perhaps that they were in the same room; he wasn’t certain.
White tendrils reached slowly, moving towards where he hovered as Ambrose looked at him finally, softening hues slowed in the haze of mixing color to more ebon that ivory. Those tendrils caressed just barely around his leg. “Why is it you ache? Can This Ambrose not ease it?”
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 03-24-2015
[/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;]The main hall pressed on him with spectral bits of energy, but none so strong that Alrec could see. They seemed scattered, disoriented. Certainly done with mocking his ability to bring visitors of his own to their abode. Was it that the vampiress in their midst made them as uneasy as he? The doctor tried to reason it out as he walked to intercept her, decided he didn't know why that would be. Something else, then. What kinds of things caused a ghost alarm?
He stopped himself from following that question down a path that would steal his focus from the room around him. He needed his wits in the present moment, rather than rushing toward a book to research answers. Dahlia looked coldly regal as always; Alrec really wasn't sure why he'd decided to brave her path. Because she'd definitely heard the commotion and was heading right for the music room. He was careful to stand in a different line of sight. A ploy to try to redirect her attention. "Good evening, milady!" the doctor greeted. All at once, his mind seemed to overthink the words, as right on their heels came a bemused: "Morning? Evening? Evening."
So much for wits. He blamed the lack of sleep and a rather long day to boot, but really. Ghosts were his forte. A particular field of study that he felt vastly more comfortable with than standing in front of a vampire. Ghosts, at least the ones he'd met so far, didn't drink blood. Not that Alrec wasn't quite, quite comfortable in the knowledge that the rest of the supernatural world was not mere legend. The rules, though, he hadn't studied near enough of them to gather information on all the nuances of the peoples that typically strode through the shadows of Valesport.
He heard voices coming from the music room. In an effort to keep her attention, he strode closer. "There was another tour today. It went..." He couldn't really say 'well', now, could he? "It was boring. I'd like to spice them up."
The voices pitched a little louder, and if he, a mere human, could hear them murmured, Lady Dahlia could probably hear them far better. Alrec tugged at his hair, then gestured broadly toward the opposite side of the manor. "What do you think of cobwebs?" he asked. "Over there."
Away from the music room.
"Just a section of our home, a little more spooky for visitors to get a good...feeling...for..."
He trailed off as a rustling of ghosts began to smoosh themselves around the music room door. To spy on the newcomers? To annoy them? They weren't quiet about it, either. And a handful of them had pulsed their energy strongly enough Alrec's curse let him begin to see hazy outlines. "You must be joking."
"We have guests," he said with a roll of blue-gray eyes toward the music room door. "I don't suppose they're yours?" As soon as he asked the question, Alrec's brain hopped forward again. Why would they be hers? Were they more vampires? Had she risen to order...delivery? Was that even a thing? Curiosity yanked on his tongue. "Are there places you just ring up for a midnight snack?"
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Ghostly - 03-28-2015
<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/kbKW5XB.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The sparsely dressed ghost opposite the pair broke his narrative to focus those ghoulish orbs on Bron directly. As Ambrose approached he backed away from Loni as if in his mind escaping and protecting her at the same time. Bron at the heart of the matter was not one to think before he spoke. In fact, with his infinite wisdom, the responses towards Ambrose would come out rapid fire as if to mock the older specter's line of questioning. "I am indeed sad." Obviously because he had been killed, even if the event that brought the outcome about was coming up on four years now. "There is most definitely pain." Which of course came with the prior reason still holding true. Here he was stuck in limbo because of what he figured to be powerful emotional energies tying his spirit to the perpetrator. If Ambrose was attempting to sooth his soul with gentle words of recognition, there came only bitter tension from Bron's end. What fear there had been before had risen to a state of defiance, his vocals practically spat out.
"If it is not clear enough, all of your statements fall on me being rather deceased. I don't know..." There had been more to his rebuttal, but the moment those milky tendrils made contact with his own form, ethereal energy crackled somewhat violently, and Bron moved with an urgency that he'd never felt before. Back further away from Loni and Ambrose till he resided near a fireplace dead and cold like he was. "I don't know what you think you are doing, but stay away from me. These emotions are what keep me going. They are what little I can still feel from my humanity." Just in that brief instance the two were in close proximity, Bron's presence was heavily outweighed in comparison. A scrappy individual the once living man might have been; now there was little more than bark to his exclamations and firm eyes of blazing gold. At the very least though, it seemed from their first meeting that Ambrose was respectful if not a bit pushy.
"I'd much prefer the topic of this Lady Dalia and whatever else might reside in this structure for the safety of my partner. We let ourselves in unannounced thinking the premise vacated, but clearly that was anything but." Bron could not recall the last conversation he had with another apart from Loni, even before the incident his nature had been quite reclusive. This though came out of what felt like an ingrained necessity. Right now to his own surprise, he'd like the company of just his killer, but there was no simple way to tell another ghost to piss off. That and Ambrose in all of his far too personal ways might have been keeping other forces at bay, who knows?
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Kat - 03-30-2015
<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/zVze7Eq.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]"Stop!" Loni hissed as the spirits reached a point of palpable hesitation.
Her conversation became paused while their strange ethereal wraith host set it's attention on Bron, but it wasn't as though she couldn't ignore what was happening. She simply wouldn't. "Look, I really appreciate the information, but whatever you just did... Isn't alright." As if echoing her concerns, Bron shied back behind the woman and their company, far to the dark reaches of the hearth where he waited with space ensured. It wasn't often she needed to worry for her paranormal-y attached ex-lover, but whatever energy shared between him and Ambrose drove Bron away. It sent him scurrying off to lick his wounds and absolve himself from any involvement in their queries, despite knowing he was better suited to work with the ghosts of the manor. Loni breathed her impatience through her nose, a deep sigh of disappointment following on it's heels.
"Just don't touch each other if it's gonna be a problem." Both hands rose to push back ebony wisps, the curls fighting not to be anchored behind the ridge of her ears. "Fuck, by what it looked like, too much of that touching would have set off a chain reaction." When her hands fell back down from the frame of her features, they created a cave at waist height with her fingers, pulsing menacingly to produce a microcosm effect. "Tick, tick... BOOM!" Palms shot away from one another to express the explosion, but the act brought something of a sloped smile into the picture. In her mind, the description was spot on in terms of accuracy.
"Anyway, back to how things run around here... So, Dahlia is up and about now?" That factoid earned a short glance around Ambrose, as if Loni could almost sense the Vampire was rooms away. It didn't matter that she was looking the complete opposite way from where Alrec was keeping her at bay; Loni just needed to appear to understand how their arrangement worked in practice. "So, does that make you the guard dog? Like you watch the house while the rest of the residents are otherwise preoccupied?" Thinking on several of the less ideal venues she had partied within, this house in it's mausoleum-eque glory was considerably more appealing. Ghosts included, there was money leaking from every time worn and termite bitten inch of the manor.
"Who else is here?"
Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 04-05-2015
<img style="avatar" style="max-width:50%;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v436/bob2/male/Eimran_Nenoth.jpg_zpsaime9sfb.png]
<div style="text-align:center;]<font color="#68ca41]How far away,
From coconut palms,
And banyan trees,
Coral sands....and-...
<div style="text-align:left;]The song had then died before it could finish.
A half angry, half sleepy voice echoed in the room. Stone walls reverberated the sound back to the creature placed to lay in what looked like a large crate that was filled with old feather and straw mattress. A bed of sorts, but not for one that was made to be entirely comfortable. An idea to appear hospitable when in fact it really was not. Not for the thing inside.
For a few moments after the room grew quiet - no longer filled with the music - the angry groaning sounds come from within the crate once more. And was soon followed by violence. Not the kind that happened to an individual, but the kind when something wooden was being broken apart from the inside. Pieces of wood and straw flew across the room, shattering against the stone walls and feathers clung to what could only be described as a half-mutilated form. Not that there could be any eyes to see this. And if there were, no lights in the room kept the creature inside hidden. Perhaps it was a good thing too, considering the bare form of flesh. All mostly intact.
Another grumble from sleepy-anger before bare feet dragged across the stone floor. The smell of dried flowers filled the room, ridding anything that could have been foul. If there were any to speak of. As if knowing where the door was, the creature pushed it open with outstretched hand and stumbled into the room beyond.
Once in the dim light of the manor, any witnessing eyes could see the appearance of a man. With one missing arm crudely stitched up. Fit as a fiddle and muscles to speak highly of, there was not but a loose sheet crudely wrapped around his waist like a loin cloth and gray feathers clinging to what could be clung to. Somehow, the sheet was still as white as if to have been fresh from the line. Large, old scars covered his body and face. At least from what one could make out from under the flowing locks of gold. Think of cousin 'It' as a reference to the length. Yet not quite dragging on the floor.
What stood out among all the other things was the the spots of obvious mold. Or what looked to be mold. Over his scars and in patches along his skin, a touch of green moss seemed to grow from his skin. Yet it was a scent of wild flower popori that followed this victim while he dragged himself along the wooden floors and up a long flight of stairs...[/align][/font][/align]