WEEK ONE

[lesmodsalouette]

WEEK ONE

32 Guests

Maybe being swept away to a fancy castle isn't what you wanted (Hickey aside), but the fact of the matter is that you're stuck here, at least for now. Thankfully there's enough food even if hot chocolate for breakfast might be a bit rich for some palates. There's at least a stock of raw food in the kitchens, but your hapless kidnapper is a Witch, not a chef, so you'll have to perform your own, manual kitchen magic if the provided meals aren't to your liking.

Just try not to burn the place down before you get the chance to take your host at his word (that you'll be leaving in a week's time, certainly, trust).

If you do get the cabin fever immediately, the grounds are a beautiful reprieve from the great indoors -- and if nothing else, perhaps you can find time to get to know your fellow guests. The weather is gorgeous all week, cheerfully sunny, which lends something to the mood.

WEEKLY EFFECT

This week, characters will feel heightened emotions periodically. If they're very happy about something, it'll feel like the best thing in the world! If they'd usually brush off something mildly annoying, suddenly it'll grate on their nerves. This effect will last throughout the week until investigation and is completely optional.

[OOC: Welcome to Week 1! Despite the lack of any threatened murder (except in Witch's direction), there will be a case this week. We'll have a small optional event on Wednesday at 1PM EDT/10AM PDT, but it won't require real time threading and can be done over the course of the week. ]

MONDAY • TUESDAY • WEDNESDAY • THURSDAY

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Comments

[distain]

[Though only a few days isn't really enough time to be considered a habit, it might be enough to notice a pattern of behavior. Andrew Grace tends to only make an appearance outside the Villa in the late morning. She's well-dressed as can be but perpetually slightly askew.

Most people may have already filtered away from the breakfast table, then, when, in an unprompted fit of pique, Andrew dashes her half-full teacup against the floor without warning, her outburst driven by a fit of sudden frustration. She neither apologizes nor moves to clean it up.

By afternoon, she can be found taking a very slow stroll in the garden and pausing to take advantage of the seating. Her path takes her by the vegetables and herbs, and, though she isn't destructive about it, she does pluck a bit of each herb, especially ones she doesn't recognize, drawing them into the palm of her hand.]

Are these all for cooking?

[At night, rather than wandering the gardens yet again, Andrew makes her way to the observatory. Foregoing climbing the stars, Andrew sits beneath the wide open skylight and stares into the night She must think she's alone; after taking in the stars, she sinks into a crouching position on a pile of stacked textbooks and leans her head down onto her knees.]

I wonder...if we're looking up at the same night sky.

Garden

[caporegrimme]

I guess it is. It doesn't seem like anything is harmful...

[At a glance, at least. Scarlet isn't going to just assume things -- he thinks a more detailed examination of the herbs might be warranted]

[distain]

With all the weapons in that room, who would need poisons?

[He's welcome to investigate further, though - Andrew certainly won't stop him. She twirls a spring of thyme between her fingers, then holds it to her face to inhale the scent.]

And yet I haven't seen anyone cooking, so who knows if all this will go to waste.

[caporegrimme]

I intend to make use of this...I'll have to cook for myself all this time.

[Scarlet shrugs a little]

I'd offer you all some, but I'm just an average cook, and also it'd be kind of hypocritical of me to be concerned about poisons and then try to give you all food, no?

[distain]

Not enjoying what we've been given?

[She never has much of an appetite, and so the sparse meals haven't fully made an impression on her yet. It might sink in over the week just how little they really have with only two daily meals and the breakfast being especially light.

At the return to poison, she tilts her head.]

It'd be a little stupid of me to accept it. At least no one I've seen eating Witch's half-baked apologies and falling down dead. If we were real royals, we'd have a taster...

[caporegrimme]

If we were real royals we'd be chained in a dungeon right now.

[Because, you know, everyone got taken to a new, unknown location. That's a kidnapping and you can be sure if a royal gets kidnapped, there are some real dark purposes involved. Nobles can be so cutthroat!]

observatory

[diel]

… Who…?

[ coincidentally, he is also here wondering the same thing. when he addresses her, he sounds muted, almost toneless. he’s sitting far from her, in a dark corner that’s been swallowed black even under the night sky’s light. it’s thanks to the quiet that his voice even travels to her. ]

[distain]

["Sometimes you're sad with yearning." Grace's own words echo in her mind now that she herself is so cavernously empty with it. Is there anyone who would think and feel the same about her?

She tries to hide her surprise when someone else speaks instead, head lifting cooly from her knees and eyes piercing into the shadows on the other side of the atrium.]

Who...? [she repeats, though in this case she means "Who's there?" and not who's being discussed.] What are you doing here? [She's guarded, petulant, not just because she has company but because she didn't notice that she did.]

[diel]

…

[ when the night is so very quiet like this, his silence is loud in its existence. and when his answer comes, it’s slow as though he’d had to dig it up from his memories. ]

… Yoru…

[ he’s yoru and she’s… too far for him to make out her features. long hair, he thinks, impossible to tell the color of. or a long dress. and the sound of her voice, which is unhelpful when he can’t place it.

he hopes she stays away. ]

.. I was also thinking the same thing. If my family saw what I saw. And if… they could use it to find me somehow.

[distain]

[Yoru... she doesn't give her name in response, but she does give him some silence after he speaks.

She also gives him his distance. Andrew doesn't come any closer; she just sits on her pile of books and speaks into the darkness. She might as well be addressing an imaginary friend.]

I only hope that if she sees them, she thinks of me. I hope she stays far away and safe. Though... if it were proven safe here, maybe I would wish for that.

My father claims he can find anyone or anything. Do you want to be found?

[diel]

[ he never asked for her name anyway. he was only ever curious about the person who claimed her feelings, whatever shape those feelings took. enough for her to yearn across stars. ]

Would you be disappointed if she stayed far away anyway, even if this place was safe?

[ he’ll answer her question in a bit, if he doesn’t get entirely distracted by her answers. ]

… What if she doesn’t think of you?

[distain]

[She breathes in sharply. Any other time, this might slide off her, but this time, the emotions boil up. How could he even suggest such a thing?]

Then I suppose it's fine that I won't be there to protect her. She can learn what missing me is really like.

[It's such a hateful thing to say, and it comes from lashing out at him. But her feelings for Herta have been the only strong feelings she's ever had, so they're the only strong feelings that she encounters now. Her hands ball into fists against her knees.]

But if it meant she ran away, then I...

[diel]

[ any other time and her sharpness would have cut him. but right now, under the moonlight, he’s dull, something for her to scrape against but never pierce. she can sharpen herself on him if she’d like. ]

But does she know that she’s supposed to miss you? That you want her to?

[ he can’t remember if he ever told her to stay, please, don’t go out again. he can’t remember if had pleaded enough or insisted enough, or if he’d been too afraid of being an even bigger burden. did he ever ask her if she missed him? ]

[distain]

How could she not know I want her to? ["Supposed to" doesn't factor into it, even in her emotional state. Andrew knows that what he's insinuating can't possibly be true. Though she had only asked for love, how could she not also want to know, however briefly, that someone would miss her if she was gone?]

She's the only one in the world... I've ever had.

[Sick with yearning.]

[diel]

But…

[ he sounds almost as lost as her. ]

Are you the only one she has?

[distain]

... Yes.

[No. But yes. The answer should be one, but the reality is the latter.]

You should stop asking questions about things it's impossible for you to understand.

[It's firm; she puts every ounce of noble coldness and condescending threatening into it that she can because she means it.]

[diel]

[ he doesn’t understand the romance aspect of it, if that’s what she’s talking about. if this is romance. it sounds like it, the quality of her voice has a particular timbre - and that might be something impossible for him after all.

but he yearns. ]

Maybe it’s that. Do you tell her to stop asking questions, too? Shouldn’t she though… to understand your heart?

[ … ]

I think she could.

it's too late to icon the panel i would want to use for this so pretend please

[distain]

There are some things she's better off not knowing.

[Andrew does stand now. The darkness has been in her eyes long enough that she can try to squint out through the shadow and form the shape of someone else in her eyes.]

You have surely received similar advice in the past.

[Stop asking questions.]

[diel]

[ that's what she had thought too. they were 'better off' not knowing where their mother went, and why the money came back in her place. and look how things turned out. ]

Yeah. But you know, I never asked about the important things, so I was never told. And then... suddenly there was no one there to tell me.

[ will they really get to return home? ]

Funny.

[distain]

["Suddenly there was no one there to tell me" puts a lump in her throat that she has to swallow to keep down. But it isn't about telling Herta anything that will put her at risk; it's about making sure...]

What is? There's only one joke here as far as I can tell.

[diel]

[ he wonders how far she can see when she refuses to tell. ]

That we're all different, but still the same. We just circle back, all of us.

[ he leans back into his corner, fading even more into the shadows. ]

I'm going to stay here a little longer. You're welcome to stay.

[distain]

... [A very cold, distant smile overtakes her features. She's fighting every furnace-flaring emotion to raise this dig.] You should be careful when comparing yourself to others. You never know what you're saying about yourself. I'd hate for that to implicate you in something terrible.

[If he really thinks he's like Herta, then she wonders how he'd feel if he know the truth.

She turns away, moving toward the door to the observatory.] They're getting dimmer, anyway. [The space now feels too claustrophic and enclosed.]

breakfast table

[obtect]

[Caroline watches the scene, not quite with the same apathy she's been carrying herself with - there's a spark of...not interest, but some kind of desire.

Maybe she just wants to smash shit too.]

Why stop there? Throw the plate, too.

[distain]

I might as well. It's not as if it's possible to have any appetite here.

[And the food offering is just macarons... it couldn't be less filling if it tried.

The problem with being encouraged to continue when in a mood, though, is that it only makes her feel more defiant. She wants to throw things because it satisfies her feelings, not because someone told her to do it.

Maybe she'll throw it at her... She's certainly mulling it over.]

[obtect]

[She watches.]

Go on, then. Cut loose.