Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Printable Version

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - euphoricvoodoo - 06-20-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i58.tinypic.com/2nvwxc.jpg" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]This little experiment of Valeria's was not turning out quite like she thought it would. She expected he would at least try to shake her hand and she even thought he would probably be able to do it. What actually happened was worlds away from that. Grabbing her hand with both of his was fine, great even. She'd heard that a bit of over enthusiasm could be expected in ghosts that weren't used to people seeing them. She didn't entirely think that tangible mist that could apparently transfer emotions was really covered under that though. Despite the fact that they were projecting good and welcoming feelings and only around her calves, she couldn't help but be vaguely unsettled by the way they slipped under her jeans so easily.

His hair joined in on the act soon after, wispy bits of white sliding over her face and neck. Thankfully that was less unsettling so she let her mind concentrate on that and what he spoke of. A song that he wanted to find that became louder when happy people were in the manor. What in the world that might be she didn't know. Some sort of magic or something else entirely she couldn’t be sure but it was just one more oddity here that she would love to figure out.

She did really get too much of a chance to ponder on magic songs before the ghost was being unsettling again. Some sort of misty ghost body hug with more emotional transference was happening now. There were only good feelings seeping into her; things she found sitting in front of a fire, eating baked pumpkin, dancing to good music, finding new knowledge, getting an experiment right and so many other wonderful things. A surprised laugh escaped her but for a moment she did nothing else except stand there and feel.


It didn't take too long for her fascination over this to pop up and only a little longer for her to be dismayed at the invasion of her space. This was rather more familiar than she usually liked to be when first meeting a being. She mused on how to say that without being too harsh. Upsetting a ghost was really not something that should be done if you wanted a peaceful stay somewhere, even if Ambrose didn't follow the usual ghost rules. "Uh I. Do you greet everybody like this? Because well. It's just rather overwhelming. For having just met you I mean."

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 06-21-2015

<font size="2]

The voice of a woman seemed to speak up to him first. Not really to him, since her words sounded like a muffled song through the down of three pillows to this one. But it was a calming voice. Her scent was clean and fresh, like newly washed linens. He rather liked it, and voiced his approval with a nod that made the mop of hair swish into his eyes more, blocking what he already was having troubles seeing.

Grumbling something with a dry throat - obviously water should have been his primary objective once he woke up - this one attempted to move his bangs from his face by flicking his head about with the hopes the longer than usual offensive and bothersome tresses would somehow stick out of his eyes. Or at least one eye. The box of stuffing was with in his grasp still, and with no other appendage to use, it was a troubling moment for him.

However, one must have been merciful since the box of food was removed from his grasp. Any overly rested person just risen from death-sleep would attest to the reality that reflexes were slow for at least a few days after rising. So, being as this one was it took a moment to realize that his hand was free.

Humming a few times as she grasped at air against his side, he looked to the floor first. Perhaps the food hadn't been removed from his grasp and instead fell. It was rather heavy in his tired grasp. But no, it was not on the ground. To prove to himself it did not fall, this one turned about in place. Slowly. The sheet winding around his legs so he had to kick them away or else fall. Luckily, he did not.

A hand at last available, this one, lifted the hair from his eyes and looked to those about him with hazy honey kissed hazel eyes. Where his body had scars and badly healed gashes, his face was marked in ink. Symbols and signs of some sort, mostly along his hair line, did not seem to tarnish his good looks. For being a zombie, that is. 

Now, he could see where his meal was running off too. Back to the kitchen, and in the hands of another man. This one grunted as all proper zombies did and shuffled after him. A simple yet pained groan of 'Mein stuffing...' was heard as he followed the man in glasses.

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 06-22-2015

<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;]Alrec was losing his mind.

His greatest fear, insanity, and between sudden, monstrous peals of thunder--Good gracious! Is someone hurling lightning bolts directly from the roof, now??--it was currently unraveling around him. Why was he here in this madhouse? Why was he even trying?

He dropped the box of stuffing onto the counter and plucked a pot from the stovetop that looked scoured clean and smelled of detergent. Filling it halfway with water, and then rinsing it several times since whoever had cleaned it hadn't actually gotten the soap out, he set it on a burner to boil.

Trying. Bullocks. The reality was he didn't have a choice. If he wasn't here, the nightmares were so strong as to be tangible. And if he wasn't trying, if he was pandering to his own whims, well. That drove the air from his lungs too.

Surrendering to his lot in life made things much easier. Much easier to accept that at some point, Lavenza had acquired a seemingly sentient, shambling man on its roster. Maybe the Caretaker had a list somewhere. Other occupants, holed up in nooks and crannies and rooms Alrec hadn't yet discovered, just waiting until the day they felt inclined to emerge for a bite.

Food...Do zombies really eat stuffing?

He cocked his head toward the approaching zombie--who, it seemed, was not one of the fast-moving variety--with a slight adjustment of his glasses and no small degree of concern. He couldn't see the front hall. He'd left the newest guest alone with Ambrose. Abandoned her and those in the music room, really. For the sake of the brains of the living. But there were certainly other parts of the living that could be...taken advantage of. Feeling more than a little out of his depth, he turned back around to run his hands over the marble countertop.

Lavenza's kitchens were vast, made for a staff that didn't exist. Had, once. As the story went, they too had been there one day and then...not. For all that he expected to have been employed here, however, Alrec found himself a bit skeptical about what had actually happened in the manor: The kitchen seemed the lightest place of spectral activity in the whole place.

Well. Ghosts don't exactly have to eat.

He turned down the heat once the water boiled and poured the stuffing mix into the pot. As the zombie entered the kitchen he popped the lid on.

He turned again to face the zombie once the stuffing was set to steam to a nice fluffy mix. Then he took a deep breath and smiled. "Forgive me, but I don't believe we've become acquainted. I am Doctor Alrec Reynolds...and probably I should have asked if you wanted this cooked." Dismay struck his gut at the last moment, and his cheeks turned faintly pink. What if he'd wanted it as raw as someone else's brains? He might not have wanted to know about supernatural things, other than ghosts, but it was becoming more and more evident that eventually, he was going to have to expand his range of study. Or at least ask more questions. Just to keep up.

For example: Did the zombie before him even speak, and in English, or had he followed because Alrec had both his box AND brains? Answers meant a world of difference where etiquette was concerned, too. Keep a table or counter between himself and the sheeted stitched-up man at all times or offer a friendly handshake? He mapped out the route to the servant's door just in case as he continued, "It...ah...seemed...prudent...at the time."

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 06-22-2015

<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 did notice that Alrec was no longer around, but had retired to the kitchen with their newest waking house member—or guest? It was, at times, hard to keep track of who stayed and went. He, as a rule, had always felt more tied to those who were not of the realm of nonliving. It was easy for him to forget the occasional nonliving resident unless they made themselves known to him on a fairly regular basis. Given how often he slept and for the length of time… it was no great surprise.

Even so, there was a ping of bereft-like emotion within him once Alrec was gone from the room that inevitably led to the main entrance hall. And yet, it was not enough to take his focus away from the woman before him.

When she laughed he smiled further still, pressing her hand in a squeeze against his chest and offering another burst of feeling through their connection of touch. But when he sensed she was unsettled he blinked once and came in closer to her face, blinking owlishly in curiosity. His forehead nearly tapped her own. And then he frowned, looking a little sad when she spoke.

“Is Valeria bothered by this Ambrose?” A pout, stormy eyes looked to the side and the grip on her hand loosened just so. “This Ambrose only wants Valeria to be happy.”

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 07-19-2015

<font color="#a7cc92]It seemed that the man that had taken the box of food from within this ones grasp was intending to prepare it for him. How kind for a stranger. Smiling behind the locks of hair in appreciation, this one remained a distance way - keeping the island between them - in case he would hinder the other in food preparation. No one liked to move around another one to get to what one needed. Didn't one?[/font]

<font color="#a7cc92]Still, the other seemed to be in thought while he watched the water boil. Did one need to watch water boil now? The stove was not the one he remembered there to be last he was awake. It seemed-....electric? Gas? There would need to be some investigation of that. once he was fed, washed and dressed into something less toga like. [/font]

<font color="#a7cc92]Had his clothes made it over all these years? Or did they deteriorate while he slept? Perhaps his body was in worse shape than he last remembered it being in....did he offend? This one was becoming more and more self conscious of himself and the fact that he was bare. He had not bathed in years, yet he did not stink. Was the scent of the stuffing overriding his own scent or was he perhaps not stinky at all? What had become of him...[/font]

<font color="#f1f4f8]"....ah-..."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] this one tried to speak, to ask a question, but the other male had beat him to the conversation. [/font]<font color="#f1f4f8]"N-..."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] this one nodded and his hair once move covered his eyes, [/font]<font color="#f6f8fa]"Yes...cooked...."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] he said dryly. Severe cotton mouth made his voice harsh and rash. Painful to hear and even more painful to say. [/font]

<font color="#f1f4f8]"Mmm....manners....yes..."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] this one spoke again with a strange lilt in his raspy voice. He knew to greet another was to offer a hand and bow as well as a name, but heavens above it was difficult as he was now!!

This one flipped his hair from his face at the same time his hand came up to move his hair from his eyes. Now able to see clearly, the rack of glasses beside the sink caught his attention. A smile was offered, showing nearly perfectly white teeth, before he moved past the male to grasp a glass. Washing it out - in case it had accumulated dust over the years - he served himself a glass of water. Which was then downed in a matter of seconds. The action was followed again by another glass of water.

And another.

Then one more.

It was on the fifth glass that he gave pause. 

This one sighed in contentment, voice no longer painful or hurtful, and set his glass down. [/font]<font color="#f1f4f8]"Forgive me," [/font]<font color="#a7cc92]he spoke finally. A voice meant for radio. Smooth, deep and a thick Scottish lilt in his words as he rolled his 'R' gently.[/font]<font color="#f6f8fa] "I[/font]<font color="#f1f4f8] had no' a glass of water for neigh-....mayhap a century."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] He smiled then, eyes shimmering with 'life' and finished the glass within his hand. [/font]<font color="#f1f4f8]"Ahh....tis good, clean water. Dun ye think so Doctor? Och, forgive me. I am Professor Quintin E. Benett. Pleasure to meet you, sir."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] The glass was set into the sink and Quintin moved closer to Alrec to offer his hand in greeting.[/font]

<font color="#f1f4f8]"Dun you worry, Doctor. I have no' a bite to eat, so the stuffing is much appreciated. Smells better to eat than you."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] perhaps the joke should have waited when the man before him was not so skidish. But it was not within Quintin to hold back when he was unsure of himself also.[/font] 

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 08-09-2015



<font color="bca4f0]It wasn't present or not present. The being wasn't there, nor was it not there. It just was. Naturally, unnaturally and all together right in the place it was in. Fitting.

Not cloaked, and yet not hooded, this being remained blended into the surrounding garden wall of moss, stone and over grown berry brambles. Hidden by the constant onslaught of the pouring rain and glimpsed easily when the lightning flashed from the sky over the mansion. The knitted sapphire shawl repelled water, much like the matching rubber rain boots and umbrella in hand. No coat was worn during this storm, and yet the rain did not seem to bother the being weighed down my what looked to be layers of white cloth draped and bound at the waist with a few braided vines. Or leather belts, one did not know. Topped with a black bowler, little could be seen of the hair or face beyond dark eyes peering out from under a regal, gentle brow.

The person walked to the entrance of the garden, and pushed open the creaking wooden gate to step inside the maze that was located in the back of the lush English garden. Once inside the tall stone walls and juniper bush, the once slow moving being bolted. Rubber boots seemed to hover over the small pebbled path, making their way down the paths that were to lead to the center. That is, if the being did not make a wrong turn, stop at a dead end and turn about to try again.

It was a maze, after all.

Time seemed to be important and none too important to this one. Wrong turn, right turn, wrong and wrong again until the path finally lead to a fallen stone wall, revealing the center of the maze. Rubber feet squeaked to a halt and slipped into the center, where a large hole was barely gated off. A perfectly circular stone entrance to underground sat in the middle of the clearing. A small laughable gate surrounded the entrance and even had a large padlock on the little gate. Signs hung about the fence.

"All ye who enter beware of falling death." was intricately carved out of a marble slab set on a pedestal by the gate. And yet, below that even was one made of wood and paint. "Warning, danger of falling and scorpions."

The humor was lost on this one. Ignoring the signs and removing from under the layers of cloth an old and simple blade. It looked to be more of an old kitchen knife with a wooden handle. Only the blade looked to be of some importance. A devils face paired with illegible symbols.

The umbrella was closed and set to hang on the metal fence while this one set to work carving into it's hand with the knife. Yet the wound did not bleed. Instead, a light. Green and dim emitted from their palm as they carved. Illuminating across their face each symbol as it was cut out of flesh. No words were given in this ritual, just silence calm slicing.

With the symbols finished on one hand, this one went to the other. The same glowing light, the same symbols that glowed across a face.

Once both palms were carved and the light shone from their hands, this one crossed the metal fence. Rubber boots stepping and squeaking one at a time. The moment both feet were on the other side at the edge of the stone walled hole, the green light turned crimson and blood ran from their palms.

The lightning roared not in the sky alone, but deep at the bottom of the strange hole. Both hands were held over the entrance, and still no words had been spoken. No sounds from under the cowl. Only the squeak of rubber boots on stone in the rain as this one walked around the outer ring. Or danced, if one knew of the ritual. A silent summoning of a creature in the underworld. The more they danced and more blood that fell into the now brightly lit crevice, the louder the thunder and rumbling got. Yet, as of yet, nothing appeared for this one...[/font]

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 08-10-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/Nikos.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Boredom. It was the fate of all immortals eventually. Eternity made one lazy, lax, or just plain insane. There were a few who reveled in the latter, but a greater number found things to do—things they forgot about, things they hadn’t done in nigh a millennium, or—on rare occasion—entirely new things. This was especially true of watching the human realm, curiously rife with new inventions and technology that had been sprouting up since the turn of the last century. But for demons, much of the fun to be had was not in trinkets they couldn’t operate would perhaps would eventually if one took the time. No... for demon-kind, it was much easier—entertaining—to simply…

Drink, fuck, or fight.

Better to stick with the classics, yes?

For Nikos this was more than a mere pastime, but in fact a way of life. Which is why it was no real surprise that he was comfortably sprawled out on a couch cushioned by silk covered pillows and silk covered… everything, naked from the waist up, grinning like a maniac while two buxom panda girls—lesser demons—in equal states of undress snuggled beside him, cooing and laughing.

Long red hair, spiked and erratically untame, fell over his shoulders and down his chiseled chest and abdomen. Matching eyes, lit with bits of yellow-orange, danced with mirth and sexual tenor as he took a long swig from a tankard. Jewelry hung from neck, around his wrists, earrings from the two long jackal-like black ears that pointed up from the sides of his head, and, bells just barely chimed as a long ebony tail twitched along the floor.

He leaned towards his left, towards one of the girls and grabbed her chin with clawed digits—widely smirking well enough to show fangs—carnivorous teeth. And when he spoke, the ebb and flow of his voice was akin to warm chocolate; though clipped and accented in Arabic, “We,” he began, “should play a game…”

She laughed softly, curling into him as spot-covered eyes narrowed deliciously. “Perhaps one with less clothes on, my lord?”

He snapped his teeth together close to her face, making her jump and then laugh. “I like the way you think.” He finished the rest of his drink in one go before tossing the container entirely—preparing to pounce on his willing victim.

Until the lightening came.

Flashing and cracking through the ceiling of the room swathed in silk and sin. He hesitated, watching along with the two women and unable to really figure it out. He didn’t begin to worry, really, until the erratic plasma wrapped itself around his wrists and ankles.

“The fuck—.” He growled and tried to pull free, calling on power he knew he possessed. Nothing. Something bound him from doing so; more than the lightening. And then there was nothing but the light and a tunnel.

In another world, the human one, in the gardens of Lavenza, the lightening flashed brighter—the sky blooming red with it. A large bolt struck some distance from the ‘being’, shaking the ground and reverberating with sound. Smoke and sparks—an explosion that burned bushes, hedges, and the grass to cinders.

Among the destruction a body lay—still half naked and only clothed in black billowing pants. There was coughing, cursing, and a series of things stated in clipped Arabic. Angry words; frustrated ones from beneath broken braches and greenery.

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 08-11-2015

[/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;]Alrec tugged on the hair at the back of his neck, again more absently, higher up, strands that stayed out, unkempt and looking as scattered as the inside of his mind presently felt. If he had any notion that he was beginning to look like he wore a plushie porcupine atop his head he didn't show it. This day had too far to go and by the end of it he simply would have ceased to care.

Was it his imagination, or did the zombie seem more alert than he'd first thought--assumed? The response didn't seem to be some mish-mash of vocal cord muscle memory but rather an attempt at coherent speech. Still, he barely stopped himself from scooting out a chair to keep a barrier between the other man and himself. It would be rude, afterall, since he'd realized the sink, not Alrec, was the zombie's target.

He was growing concerned with the possibility of drowning when the zombie stopped and finally spoke with...surprising clarity. Alrec froze, registering his accent and now smoothly flowing words with a flicker of intrigue.

"A century? Truly? Where, pray-tell, have you been hiding all this time?" Because he'd come from within the manor...not without. He suddenly swallowed hard. "Not...surely...surely not...is there a crypt downstairs I should know about? One in danger of rising up and suddenly populating these halls with...well. Uh. Other...uh. Do you object stridently to the term 'zombie', Professor Benett?"

Hesitating only a moment more, Alrec grasped the tattered man's outstretched hand. It was less handshake than rapid squeeze, quickly retreating as the other man joked about edible entrees.

"Professor...of what, may I ask?" After a century, perhaps whatever it was he studied was a long dead pasttime by now; it made it no less interesting, and Alrec found his curiosity for such things well and thoroughly piqued. "My own studies focus on spiritual realms, ghosts and spectors, the like. The Veil. Which seems to be quite thin here at Lavenza Manor."

"I'm not sure stuffing is quite the thing one deserves after a hundred year fast...but this should be near done." He turned slightly, one eye on the stove and the other on the man he cooked for. Lifting the lid, a billowing cloud rose from the moist breading and he ducked away blind, his glasses fogged with steam.

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 08-13-2015

<font color="#bca4f0]Moments and seconds passed, nothing.

Minutes even ticked by and yet nothing.

Frustration and fear gripped the heart of this being. Slender hands now stained red with blood shook and twitched. The scent of this one's crimson blood filled the air around them and the entrance below. Splotches that had been pushed by the wind turned the once white fabric wrapped around their body into dots of pink and white. Rubber on stone squeaked and squished, now with water inside the boots. Yet still, the dance continued.

It had to. To stop would mean to give one's self to whatever being that was to be summoned and unleashed to the world. Without a chain to the beast, it would be free to kill and feed to it's heart content till a god deemed it necessary to do something about the creature. In which they never did. Gods rarely did anything anymore but follow their own set of rules that change daily. 

Hence why this one was here now, bound by tradition and duty.

Unfocused on the task at hand, the pull as arms jerked forward was felt. Yet almost went unnoticed. That is, this one's body reacted perfectly, pulling on the chain that was to bind to the creature while the mind snapped back to what had changed. A moment of fear for what was to come and excitement at a successful - though long - summoning was completed.

This one pulled with all it's might, dragging the unwilling beast from it's hole in the other world into this one. A duty neither would be happy to fulfill, but both would do it unwillingly. 

Once the last spark of lightning flashed across the sky and struck the ground beside this one, the light below faded and the ceremony was finished. Though not as this one thought it would. Instead of appearing, it crash landed and destroyed some perfectly fine bushes and shrubbery in the process. 

'Quickly!!' a familiar voice echoed in her head 'Capture him now, before he flees!!' 

A nod was the only reply as rubber clad feet leapt over the small fence to rush to the fallen and confused beast. The cowl that protected this one's face fell away in the jump, becoming more of a hindrance to this ones goal than a much needed warmth. Ripping the cloth off, a head and face was revealed. Pale lavender hair with touches of silver and drenched from the rain and bound in a braid ran to the middle of her back. A calm, almost smirk like expression counter acted the large, deep and vivid yet scared almond shaped eyes. However no less Set on her goal.

Once she was upon him, this one took no time to any pleasantries and slipped into his lap. The cloth covering her body was a well worn out cotton han-fu. The skirt ripped and torn circled around them as she sat on his lap like petals from a flower. The belt kept the gown closed over her body, hiding the soft, milky skin from his eyes and yet not from his touch. Slender hands grasped his wrists and pulled them to her lap, a strange strength keeping him from moving them while she found his lips and gave him a taste of her. Her lips were soft and she tasted of warm honey and cinnamon. As she drank of his alcohol breath and cringed at the taste, she continued to kiss him and hold his hands down on her upper legs. 

A moment passed, two moments more and became a minute. 

Still, she continued to kiss and hold him till every last drop of the binding spell was settled into his body. Not a liquid, not smoke but another silent tradition that bled from her lips and into him. With each second their lips remained locked, another link in the chain bound him to her. Both physically and mentally. [/font]

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Blade - 08-16-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f206/Blade_Redwind/Alonimi/Nikos.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]By Anubis, he muttered in his own head, growling out loud the next. His ears twitched, elongated things that sat upright on his head from the sides; slicked with black hair and covered on all sides where they attached to his head by choppy strands of bold fiery red. And all of that was getting wet. Cold and wet. He also thought there might be a stick stabbing into his bare back.

Not at all trying to repress his rage, he shoved the debris off of himself with little more effort than it took to squish a bug. His mouth remained curled into a snarl. Just what in the hell? Where the fuck was he? A few sparse sniffs despite the downpour told him the human realm. Not his soft bed, not some demoness’ soft bed, not a place wall to wall in the underworld’s best liquor and cushy pillows to lay all over like a glutton; no, some kind of garden in the middle of the day covered in darkness, lightening, rain, and...

That had been a summoning, he realized in the middle of his rage—furthering it. Some asshole had ripped him out! For what? Summoning meant one of a few god awful things: someone wanting to make a deal for something they needed, someone wanting to get laid—usually that was relegated to incubi and succubi, and finally—subjugation. None of which he was fond of. No one summoned him. Not at least for nearly three hundred and fifty year; that debacle had included the Great Fire of London in 1666. He smiled briefly; what a lovely debacle it had been… beautiful anger blazing… screaming… suffering… He chuckled. Stupid humans.

There would be glorious hell to pay when he found the little piece of shit that—.

Some soft fleshy creature suddenly plopped down in his lap, making him momentarily distracted and curious. Warm flesh, by the feel of her beneath the wet material of silks. When she pressed her mouth to his the flavor was akin to that of the gods; natural inclination made him open despite the boiling rage. Rage that had been burned into being from sexual frustration was, for a time again, burned right back into sexual want. But for demons, anger, pain, love, and pleasure were all closely tired—bound. She didn’t make him any less angry, but she didn’t make him any less hard either. Clawed digits moved to grab and grope; would have as he slanted his mouth more fully against hers were it not for the tight hold she snapped over them.

He jerked to tug them away, to do as he pleased—as he always pleased. But couldn’t. and that’s when he felt it—the coiling, queasy, disempowering binding of her spell.

FUCK. NO.

The rage returned and he pulled against her, growling and moving to rip his mouth away. Coiling black wisps of otherworldly smoked came off of him—red eyes glowed amber.

“Bitch,” he spat against her mouth, “I’ll kill you. And when I’m done I’ll burn all you hold dear to the ground while what’s left of you watches.” His voice was dark, unnatural, and laced with demonic growls. Not at all human; something larger—fiendish and destructive and promising absolute Armageddon.

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 08-18-2015

<font color="#a7cc92]Quintin gave him a wiry grin, not realizing his jest was going to be taken at face value. It would possibly have to take a moment for others to understand his lack of humor. The line, most of the time, was as invisible as his old ghost friend. Often being crossed. Humor rarely was on the professors mind, and when it was there were mistakes made. Good thing he was not the one cooking.

Much like Alrec did, his own had came up the scratch the back of his head, effectively pushing his hair into his eyes so it was difficult to see once more. [/font]<font color="#f7f9fa]"Ahh...no no..." [/font]<font color="#a7cc92]he tried to clarify[/font]<font color="#f7f9fa], "I did no' mean truly eh century...what year is it, eh? Maybe it has..."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] It was possible, after all. 

Turning so his side faced the living professor, this professor pointed to a door off to the side of the kitchen. It was a plain door, not looking to be anything special. Except it was nearly impossible to open it from this side if one didn't know how. [/font]<font color="#f7f9fa]"I came from below...how I got there, I don' know. But nigh as far as I remember since I woke, there was not but me below. And my lab."[/font]

<font color="#a7cc92]The memory of waking to the dark room was beginning to open up and show that the room was indeed dark, yet it smelled like his laboratory. Some shelved experiments might be able to be completed with the help of this other professor. Maybe. "Well, seeing as I am a zombie, it's fitting, eh?" Quintin chuckled and pretended that the short handshake didn't bother him. As most people, zombies were assumed to be flesh eating undead types without any reason or care. There was the occasional time when Quintin would feel like that, but reason always was within his head. And people were disgusting creatures that rarely bathed. Well, they used to.[/font]

<font color="#f7f9fa]"Ahhh~...see, I dun kno' what ye call it now, but the genetic make up of creatures. Biological sciences of others."[/font]<font color="#a7cc92] what made things tick they way they did. Humans were easy to know about, the others were fascinating. [/font]

<font color="#a7cc92]Quin waited till Alrec looked away from the pot, his glasses a mess of steam. Where did he leave his glasses? [/font]<font color="#f7f9fa]"An seein' as we have similar interests and fields, perhaps my old notes can be of use to ye?" [/font]

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - Hobo_Bob - 08-18-2015

<font color="#bca4f0]The moment she kissed him - regardless of how the creature tasted to her - he felt good. Hard and soft. Talent and skill in his lips gave her a better reason to lock lips with him. Even express a small sound that showed her pleasure when he kissed her back. Warm and dangerous, she did her task. Used the binding spell on her tongue and breath to transfer it to him. There was no doubt about it. He was the darkness to her sunshine. And he would kill her when the time called for it. No sooner.

She felt him struggle then, ruining their first moment as he attempted to pull his hands free. Weather to grasp at her and feed the want she felt under her bottom or to stop her from fulfilling her duty, it didn't matter. Her grasp tightened around his wrists as she pulled his hands up her legs in one quick motion. They now rested on her hips, fingers touching the skin of her bottom under the torn and tattered hanfu. It felt good to have his claws dig into her body the way they had, even though it hurt the pleasure he felt was dripping onto her. Filling her body with the emotions he was feeling. Real emotion.

The spell was nearly complete.

This one followed his lips to keep them together till the last second. He growled at her, and she returned the favor with her own snarling sound in her throat. The creature dared to tell her no, even as she had him bound to her. Despite how he tried to stop her, it was too late. The transfer was beyond breaking once she realized she replied to his angry verbal expression with a sound of her own. 

Her expression changed from mirroring his, right down to the glowing eyes - albet the wisps were not present - to surprise and joy. She smiled then, her hands still holding his with an impossible strength and stretched out her neck to place her lips to his snarling mouth for a quick kiss. 

"[/font]<font color="#f5f4f8]Bitch!!![/font]<font color="#bca4f0]" she exclaimed happily, looking into his face with such joy it was abnormally at odds with his threat. "[/font]<font color="#f5f4f8]Bitch bitch!! I kill you and hold you dear with all that is left of me!![/font]<font color="#bca4f0]" His words were half spoken back to him in a strange lilt like his own, but feminine. The Arabic slant of tongue he had reflected in her voice, clear and charming. 

And obvious she did not understand the words she spoke back...[/font]

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - euphoricvoodoo - 08-31-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i58.tinypic.com/2nvwxc.jpg" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Oh dear heavens now he was pouting. A ghost or spirit or whatever was legitimately pouting at her. Valeria was utterly out of her depth. Ambrose may not be as cute as a puppy but he did a fabulous imitation. "No! No no you don't bother me at all. It's just, well, most beings have.. A thing about personal space you know." It was almost funny her saying that. She tended to be the one being called on space invasion. Usually it was investigating a fellow witches' belongings rather than whatever this was.

"And we've just met. It's a tiny bit early for this sort of thing as interesting as it was. Are all ghosts able to transfer emotions like that? I've never seen anything like it. Chills and that are... more...." Valeria trailed off as something pulled at the edges of her perception. It was never quite certain to her whether what she felt during large rituals was an effect of the magic itself or just in her mind. Asking never seemed like a good idea so she remained ignorant. This seemed a similar enough effect though so perhaps there was something to it. No ritual she'd ever been to felt like this. It made the hair on her arms stand up and left a pit in the bottom of her stomach. If she had to describe it, this energy felt almost unholy.

Just as suddenly as the feeling came it was gone. Her eyes narrowed, staring off into the distance as she tried to sense any trace of the same energy but there was nothing. She would have to hope that the person utilizing such forces was skilled enough to handle that sort of power and smart enough not to summon anything. Nothing good could come of such an endeavor or so Valeria was always told. She turned back to Ambrose with a tight smile.

"Sorry spaced a second. Chills are more normal ghost things. Admittedly you are not so normal of a ghost. So. Yes. I've lost the point haven't I?" Her grin turned a little sheepish and she shrugged a shoulder. "No you don't bother me. I'm just not used to this sort of thing."

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - danixiewrites - 09-08-2015

[/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;]Alrec hiked his thumb toward the calendar on the wall. Year, month, those were sureties, hanging from a wooden peg and dangling over the far end of the counter. But day...well. He was glad the Professor hadn't asked him that. "A century isn't so far-fetched, I suppose, given the goings on around here. Praytell, was the Manor at least standing when you went to sleep?"

This was asked rather cheekily, as obviously, if the zombie had known to come into the kitchen and where the food was located, he could be presumed to have some foreknowledge of Lavenza. Alrec almost burned himself when he dropped the wooden spoon onto the range. Professor Bennett could know quite a bit about Lavenza, if he had indeed been around at the turn of the century. Other occupants were transient, newcomers, it seemed, skulking about the Manor's corners and mostly keeping to themselves.

He picked up the spoon with a sigh. No, it'd be impossible. All of Lavenza's original occupants had mysteriously disappeared. "Perhaps you might know a few good stories that I haven't yet, at least."

A glance toward the door in the kitchen, which Alrec had never been tempted to investigate. Truly, he'd not seen far too much of the Manor--who knew what else lay in wait? Perhaps the next zombie wouldn't be so accommodating to leaving his brains uneaten, nor have such a cultured repartee. "Just a lab in the basement, then? Or an actual living suite?"

Oh, now, that was just insensitive.

"I mean of course a place to stay, to sleep. There are several rooms available upstairs if you'd prefer that to a musty basement. If indeed it is musty," he added with a self-deprecating smile. It wasn't exactly his place to attempt to rent out rooms, but he assumed anything would be preferable to 'musty'. For all he knew, the lab could have been a lavish guesthouse and Quintin had merely had no need to come out. Except, apparently, food. And water. Alrec shook his head, the movement stirring upright strands of blond hair.

"So physical beings, then?" he asked, leaning against the counter. "I don't know that our studies have much in common at the source then--what with you looking at tangible and my nose stuck in books on the...intangible."

"All the same, I won't turn down a good opportunity to research...and I have been meaning to branch out to glean other basics. Must, probably, and soon, given the current company the Manor keeps. Yes, I...I think I should like that very much, thank you!" Alrec spoke the last with a great deal of enthusiasm as he fanned away steam and went to retrieve a plate and fork for his living dead...colleague. Once in his hands, he thrust it across the counter and smiled.

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Lavenza Manor [Walk-In] - everaftercrafter - 09-10-2015

<div style="text-align:center;]<img style="" src="http://share-fastly.picmonkey.com/prod/photo_posts/q3V7xXuRmMi_12706289.jpg" style="font-size:10pt;max-width:100%;][/align]<div style="text-align:left;]Barely managing to dodge a combine attack of energy from both of the dark hooded men Anna faltered. An uncharacteristic moment for the seasoned fighter she considered herself. She might have thought about it, but one of the men had decided that this was the perfect moment to start up a monologue. 

" You know, we have been fighting for so long I'd have to won-"
" Oh Christ not this again...seriously guys, how many times are you going to reiterate that we have been fighting for years. That you have to wonder why I don't fight for you...blah blah blah, yadda yadda." she waved it off.
Beneath the hood, one of her two opponents scowled a nasty one, she grinned cheekily," See? Right on time, that scowl again. But I'd have to say Avery's was a bit more well...snarlier." she waggled her fingers for emphasis. She was rewarded with," Bitch. I hope where this sends you, you never come back." As she was reacting to his upheld hand she felt the fuzziness of a door being opened and then a gust of wind forcing her through it.

She awoke on the ground, or rather on stone and was staring up at the front of a massive manor, her head pounded, probably because she'd been dropped from 8 feet through the portal onto a stone, what, a porch? She sat up and looked around her at the new surroundings, holding the bump on her head. Hell she could have been in a different timeline for all she knew, and there she was in skinny jeans, converse high tops and a loose fitting band shirt for Mastodon. She sighed heavily and looked around, pushing herself to her feet with a wince, knowing that she was going to have various bruises all over her body as a result of this, she muttered," Damn Phelan, stupid pshycotic pussy..." as she looked up at the door and then around her before actually approaching the door and kicking it a few times, one out of frustration and two because her wrist hurt like the dickens.[/align]

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