Snickersnack
Master of Lurk Fu
(Given the number of people already in the roleplay, this is closed for now. )
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Snickersnack
Master of Lurk Fu
Soft waves crashed against the island's shore, bringing up small crustaceans and seashells against the cold beach. It was a foggy morning, with a white blanket of mist settling over the land. Nelson grasped his grubby hat in his hands, his eyes staring at the sea in search for the vessel that might finally be arriving with his employer's guests.
The old gardener was not quite sure why he had been chosen for the task of introducing the guests to Dr. Black's small island. Having served the doctor for quite a few years now, the old man had become... acquainted with some of his employer's more obscure secrets. As the gardener and servant in the manor for the longest time, surpassing the young hawk-nosed butler who always seemed to get in Nelson Manswire's way, the gardener ocasionally acted as the doctor's eyes and ears, but he didn't usually serve as the diplomatic facet of Mr. Black's operations.
Not that he really knew about what exactly was going on with this dinner and stay at Heimlich Manor. He did know who the guests were, of course. Each one stranger than the other. Nelson didn't appreciate a few of the people in the list. He was not quite certain that bringing the american woman or even the russian chaffeur to the island was wise, and he disliked journalists as a norm.
The old man coughed slightly, placing his brown cap on his head and peering into the morning mist. There. In the distance. A vessel. The ferry, heading to the island.
"About bloody time, too." Nelson Manswire muttered to himself."Ah've been here all morning."
The old gardener was not quite sure why he had been chosen for the task of introducing the guests to Dr. Black's small island. Having served the doctor for quite a few years now, the old man had become... acquainted with some of his employer's more obscure secrets. As the gardener and servant in the manor for the longest time, surpassing the young hawk-nosed butler who always seemed to get in Nelson Manswire's way, the gardener ocasionally acted as the doctor's eyes and ears, but he didn't usually serve as the diplomatic facet of Mr. Black's operations.
Not that he really knew about what exactly was going on with this dinner and stay at Heimlich Manor. He did know who the guests were, of course. Each one stranger than the other. Nelson didn't appreciate a few of the people in the list. He was not quite certain that bringing the american woman or even the russian chaffeur to the island was wise, and he disliked journalists as a norm.
The old man coughed slightly, placing his brown cap on his head and peering into the morning mist. There. In the distance. A vessel. The ferry, heading to the island.
"About bloody time, too." Nelson Manswire muttered to himself."Ah've been here all morning."
spiderlegs
Indubitable and Inscrutable
Fog clung to her skin, beading damply on the railing to which she clung with long, bony fingers. Mouth pressed to a tight line, Helen stared into the impenetrable mist. Dark shapes materialized and melted away--figments of the imagination or narrowly missed obstacles? Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Salt and rot and water vapor filled her lungs.
Somewhere in the gloom, Mr. Black was waiting. What she knew of him, she knew tangentially--a friend of a friend, a whisper overheard, and, now and then, a firm handshake. Oh, no--Mrs. Masters and I are well acquainted. Though it is always such a pleasure to meet again . . .
Their social circles overlapped, and she had watched him from the corner of her eye during the long hours of high society to-dos. As she sipped martinis or listened to dinner conversation, he would circulate the room. Slippery as cigar smoke, in her memory he was all sharp smiles, tailored edges, coal-black hair, and a new woman hanging off his lips.
Opening her eyes again, she saw the island looming. It filled her vision: an immense, slumbering mass cloaked about in fog. Her pursed lips grew thinner still, and her spine stiffened. Soon she would have her answers . . . whether she liked them or not.
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GhastlySquash
Two Thousand Club
Monica Cromwell
"Can you get any more depressing?" Monica mumbled, taking her eyes off the odd, bony woman who clung to the railing like a child who clings to his play pen. Of course, her comment was moreover to the party in general.
They certainly didn't seem like the lively bunch she was use too. The ferry seemed drab and the people in it seemed nervous, anxious, or maybe excited. The ones that tried to look confident really didn't seem confident in her eyes.
Maybe it was just a European thing. After all, Hitler was on a roll to kill more Europeans than the Black Plague, and he was just one guy with a mustache probably as small as his well...his jewels. Regardless of that, these people ought to be thanking her.
The sea breeze seemed to attack from all sides, sending a shiver down her spine as she clung to her fur coat with a gloved hand. She hated this weather. Too dreary for her tastes. Too saddening considering the party concerned.
Still, this party had been a special invitation from Mr. Black. How well had she known him these days? The British tycoon that knew everything and lost nothing. She'd sort of heard of him before from her father. A quiet man who sat at the Cromwell board meetings, discussing gun shipments and soap factories with ease.
It was Mr. Black that helped her out of a tight jam when her father decided to use a Cromwell firearm on his own brains. He'd promised her a year before that they'd go to Africa when she graduated.
Well, she'd eventually gone to Africa, but only as a tag-along for her friend and their family. And worst yet, they didn't even shoot anything. Wasn't that what Africa was? A place to hunt for trophies?
Either way, Monica owed it to Mr. Black for giving her the financial aid to still live life to the fullest. Turning to the group before her, she flashed a wide smile.
"Well folks, I don't know about you, but isn't it pretty cold? Maybe we should have Mister Black set us up with a nice bonfire or something, am I right?"
"Can you get any more depressing?" Monica mumbled, taking her eyes off the odd, bony woman who clung to the railing like a child who clings to his play pen. Of course, her comment was moreover to the party in general.
They certainly didn't seem like the lively bunch she was use too. The ferry seemed drab and the people in it seemed nervous, anxious, or maybe excited. The ones that tried to look confident really didn't seem confident in her eyes.
Maybe it was just a European thing. After all, Hitler was on a roll to kill more Europeans than the Black Plague, and he was just one guy with a mustache probably as small as his well...his jewels. Regardless of that, these people ought to be thanking her.
The sea breeze seemed to attack from all sides, sending a shiver down her spine as she clung to her fur coat with a gloved hand. She hated this weather. Too dreary for her tastes. Too saddening considering the party concerned.
Still, this party had been a special invitation from Mr. Black. How well had she known him these days? The British tycoon that knew everything and lost nothing. She'd sort of heard of him before from her father. A quiet man who sat at the Cromwell board meetings, discussing gun shipments and soap factories with ease.
It was Mr. Black that helped her out of a tight jam when her father decided to use a Cromwell firearm on his own brains. He'd promised her a year before that they'd go to Africa when she graduated.
Well, she'd eventually gone to Africa, but only as a tag-along for her friend and their family. And worst yet, they didn't even shoot anything. Wasn't that what Africa was? A place to hunt for trophies?
Either way, Monica owed it to Mr. Black for giving her the financial aid to still live life to the fullest. Turning to the group before her, she flashed a wide smile.
"Well folks, I don't know about you, but isn't it pretty cold? Maybe we should have Mister Black set us up with a nice bonfire or something, am I right?"
Novelsandchocolate
Love sugar. Love literature.
Cecil Diezal
Although Cecil Daziel was cold, wet, and sick as a dog from the lurching of the infernal ferry, he still had a sharp eye for woman.
He had once met a man in a dim-lit, smoky card room who had rebuked him for it.
"You are old," he had said. "You are a solid British man. By now you should have a wife and two children!"
Well, he hadn't been so moralizing when he'd had to part with twenty pounds!
And although Cecil Daziel was thirty-two, he showed very little sign of it. Perhaps he was just a trifle plumper -but his pomaded hair, borrowed suit, and devil-may-care attitude belonged to a young man.
He looked up from the churning water below to the brunette behind him, and realized that she could be described as a list of things.
Furs. Gloves. A peculiar rigid coiffure. A smile that showed scarlet lips and all her teeth.
She looked to be a cold, aloof type. Probably the wife of some rat-faced investor-financier type. Or, more likely, she was the financier.
She was obviously a woman who made money.
Sadly, he preferred the company of blond haired girls with ringlets, who you could count on to act astonished at every word that came out of your mouth.
Plus, ringlet girls would always lend you five pounds if you were in jam. Ice cold brunettes wouldn't.
His womanizer instincts satisfied, Cecil returned to the subject of his stomach, which was still threatening to leap out of his mouth.
Seasickness was a damned awful thing!
And his case of it was all that fellow Black's fault.
Fellow? No, Black was a rat, a swine, a piece of filth!
Black was nobody. Black was everybody.
Black was a sheet of expensive paper covered in neatly typewritten words. Letters that could not be traced. Words that should have been left unsaid.
And the cheek of the man! Black had paid all the traveling expenses. Was he supposed to now applaud him for his generosity?
As the island (and what a ugly, gloomy old island it was,) became clearly visible, Cecil's spirits dropped.
And then lifted slightly.
Hell, it was only a dinner party! Things couldn't get much worse, and maybe Black had remembered to invite some pretty members of the fairer sex.
Although Cecil Daziel was cold, wet, and sick as a dog from the lurching of the infernal ferry, he still had a sharp eye for woman.
He had once met a man in a dim-lit, smoky card room who had rebuked him for it.
"You are old," he had said. "You are a solid British man. By now you should have a wife and two children!"
Well, he hadn't been so moralizing when he'd had to part with twenty pounds!
And although Cecil Daziel was thirty-two, he showed very little sign of it. Perhaps he was just a trifle plumper -but his pomaded hair, borrowed suit, and devil-may-care attitude belonged to a young man.
He looked up from the churning water below to the brunette behind him, and realized that she could be described as a list of things.
Furs. Gloves. A peculiar rigid coiffure. A smile that showed scarlet lips and all her teeth.
She looked to be a cold, aloof type. Probably the wife of some rat-faced investor-financier type. Or, more likely, she was the financier.
She was obviously a woman who made money.
Sadly, he preferred the company of blond haired girls with ringlets, who you could count on to act astonished at every word that came out of your mouth.
Plus, ringlet girls would always lend you five pounds if you were in jam. Ice cold brunettes wouldn't.
His womanizer instincts satisfied, Cecil returned to the subject of his stomach, which was still threatening to leap out of his mouth.
Seasickness was a damned awful thing!
And his case of it was all that fellow Black's fault.
Fellow? No, Black was a rat, a swine, a piece of filth!
Black was nobody. Black was everybody.
Black was a sheet of expensive paper covered in neatly typewritten words. Letters that could not be traced. Words that should have been left unsaid.
And the cheek of the man! Black had paid all the traveling expenses. Was he supposed to now applaud him for his generosity?
As the island (and what a ugly, gloomy old island it was,) became clearly visible, Cecil's spirits dropped.
And then lifted slightly.
Hell, it was only a dinner party! Things couldn't get much worse, and maybe Black had remembered to invite some pretty members of the fairer sex.
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WolfOfProphecys
Ten Thousand Club
Ignoring almost everyone on the ferry was a rather young looking girl, close to the edge of the floating vessel, curiously gazing down at the water as if it held all of the secrets she wished to possess. Already she had looked around the other people who, like her, were stuck on the cold, wet craft, likely wishing to be off and in the warmth of their hosts home, safe and dry.
From where she stood, she sighed, turning around to gaze at them again. Each she passed her cold gaze over, shaking her head a few times to flick the water from her hair, tied into a neat ponytail, even when said water only ended up back in her hair, the sea beneath them deeming itself perfectly happy to set up another gentle spurt of spray from its surface. So, quickly giving up with this, she watched a few people for a while, her icy eyes tracing their movements, the way they walked, the way they talked (if any were to speak at all) and the way they too looked at other guests.
Some were clearly of a higher class, with their thick fur coats to keep them warm, and their confident postures. She herself, being of a slightly lower class to them, was not wearing anything remotely warm at all. Instead she wore a neat, form fitting suit, that hugged her body. A white blouse, black trousers, and a neat suit jacket fitted perfectly to her small form, hugging her curves. Neat black shoes, with a small heel, accompanied this. It had been a gift from her father, who had made her come on this trip alone, when she had refused to wear anything else he had offered.
She found she liked her newly made clothing, although she would not have been able to afford it if her father had not bought it for her. Clearly he wanted her to make a good impression. But, whilst she liked it, she was now shivering in the cold wind that blew over her as the boat beneath them moved, and clearly wished that she had brought something warmer.
Staring out to sea again, her gaze brightened as she finally spotted the island.
From where she stood, she sighed, turning around to gaze at them again. Each she passed her cold gaze over, shaking her head a few times to flick the water from her hair, tied into a neat ponytail, even when said water only ended up back in her hair, the sea beneath them deeming itself perfectly happy to set up another gentle spurt of spray from its surface. So, quickly giving up with this, she watched a few people for a while, her icy eyes tracing their movements, the way they walked, the way they talked (if any were to speak at all) and the way they too looked at other guests.
Some were clearly of a higher class, with their thick fur coats to keep them warm, and their confident postures. She herself, being of a slightly lower class to them, was not wearing anything remotely warm at all. Instead she wore a neat, form fitting suit, that hugged her body. A white blouse, black trousers, and a neat suit jacket fitted perfectly to her small form, hugging her curves. Neat black shoes, with a small heel, accompanied this. It had been a gift from her father, who had made her come on this trip alone, when she had refused to wear anything else he had offered.
She found she liked her newly made clothing, although she would not have been able to afford it if her father had not bought it for her. Clearly he wanted her to make a good impression. But, whilst she liked it, she was now shivering in the cold wind that blew over her as the boat beneath them moved, and clearly wished that she had brought something warmer.
Staring out to sea again, her gaze brightened as she finally spotted the island.
Jane Timothy
Waving blue against tainted light azure; her pair of warm eyes watched the scenery through a large glass separating passenger area from fresh air of the sea, without reflecting the joy she was experiencing thanks to her aunt’s old friend; Mr. Black. Jane’s eyes usually were just calm and deep like a cup of hot chocolate_ you never know what’s hidden in the bottom unless drink it to the last drop. Getting bored of the same blue and white colors and the young lady shifted her gaze back to the inside area. She wasn’t quite alone but it seemed that most of passengers preferred outdoors. They were on deck, probably feeling the damped air and the wind from hair to toe, but it wasn’t the reason she didn’t like to join them, not yet at least. Jane had seen other guests in a glance while getting on board and had found most of them sort of unorthodox; their class, their jobs or their attitudes told her that she couldn’t face them the way she used to meet her students’ parents thus she had chosen to stay put till the real party began at the famous Heimlich manor. Here, on the open sea, she felt vulnerable as if people could see the young fragile woman hiding behind the strong façade she had built but once in the house she could turn to the perfect doll with Chinese head and a face that couldn’t be read.
Miss Timothy felt a change in ferry’s speed and looked out again. Trying to cover in the mist, there was a grey shadow in sight. As the vessel approached closer, she recognized their destination. They were going to reach the island soon, so she decided to join the others for the last minutes of the voyage. Wearing her simple dark brown coat, she walked out to the deck. Immediately, the humid and salty air embraced her, making her stop by the exit for a moment to inhale deeply. Jane liked the smell; it was better than what she could get in a city, but in the very first look she knew that rest of guests wouldn’t agree. A woman in expensive outfit nagged about the coldness despite of the furry clothes supporting her nice body and this invited Jane to look in her direction. There was another woman, gripping on the railings, who looked plainer and more experienced but only as uneasy as the first one, and then she noticed a man observing the wealthy woman with eyes that Miss chairwoman didn’t like. She hardly liked any males anyway. With a polite smile she made her way forward until got a better view of the island. Rocky and stubborn, that piece of turf reminded her of history books piled up in the school library, but the thing attracting him to this odd gathering was the land lord himself. She had no clue where Mr. Black had obtained his fortune from although could swear that he had made more than one contract with the devil to get there.
Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
Dean
had burried his face in the high collar of his custom-tailored coat. His slightly squinted eyes wandering over his fellow passengers, eventually finding their resting place on the quickly approaching island. A shiver went down his spine. If only he could light his pipe, it would surely warm him up a little. His longing for a dry, well heated room seemed to rapidly increase, as he let out a little sigh. The water wasn't his domain, he much preferred steady ground. Morrison decided to entertain himself by getting to know the rest of the group. At the very least, they'd overshadow his unpleasant feeling.
"Are you feelin' alright, chap?" his attention turning towards a middle-aged man who wore a fine-looking suit. "You're greener than my mother's spinach. And let me tell you, she'd paint it green if she had to." A hearty yet hectic laugh escaped him, as he patted the man on the back. "Ah, just make sure to hold in it a little longer, will ya? A drink later and you'll be good as new."
@Novelsandchocolate
"Are you feelin' alright, chap?" his attention turning towards a middle-aged man who wore a fine-looking suit. "You're greener than my mother's spinach. And let me tell you, she'd paint it green if she had to." A hearty yet hectic laugh escaped him, as he patted the man on the back. "Ah, just make sure to hold in it a little longer, will ya? A drink later and you'll be good as new."
@Novelsandchocolate
Novelsandchocolate
Love sugar. Love literature.
Cecil Diezal
Cecil turned his back to the cold iron rails and the gloomy sea and grinned up at the man in the sharp suit.
"You know just what to say to a fellow, don't you? You ought to have been in Parliament!"
Then he leaned forward, and furrowing his brow, squinted at the man's features.
"Say, I haven't spoken too soon, have I? Are you some big political johnny?
I'd almost swear I've seen you somewhere!"
He threw back his head and laughed, displaying rows of straight white teeth. Then he turned eagerly back to the stranger.
"You'd better watch out, Mr. Parliament!" he joked.
"I'll call up the press to get that attractive looking fee for being an 'anonymous informant', and they'll be all over you in a flash!"
"But," he added, "you probably don't have anything to worry about. No one high-up and important would want to be on this ferry!"
He stared once more more at the man, his mind working under his pomaded hair.
"Why are you on the ferry anyway? Are you some kind of friend of Black's?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.
Cecil turned his back to the cold iron rails and the gloomy sea and grinned up at the man in the sharp suit.
"You know just what to say to a fellow, don't you? You ought to have been in Parliament!"
Then he leaned forward, and furrowing his brow, squinted at the man's features.
"Say, I haven't spoken too soon, have I? Are you some big political johnny?
I'd almost swear I've seen you somewhere!"
He threw back his head and laughed, displaying rows of straight white teeth. Then he turned eagerly back to the stranger.
"You'd better watch out, Mr. Parliament!" he joked.
"I'll call up the press to get that attractive looking fee for being an 'anonymous informant', and they'll be all over you in a flash!"
"But," he added, "you probably don't have anything to worry about. No one high-up and important would want to be on this ferry!"
He stared once more more at the man, his mind working under his pomaded hair.
"Why are you on the ferry anyway? Are you some kind of friend of Black's?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.
Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
He extended his hand for Cecil to shake it. "And by all means, please, my friend, I'd love some more cameras." He laughed, showing his white teeth. "This ol' mug somehow gets all the love by the nosey papparazi." He looked right by Cecil's head, eying the nearing island. "Well, Mr. Black's quite the elusive fellow, isn't he? Somehow, a man of his status HAS to promote his various interests and I happen to have quite the reputation lately. Must be fate." He jokingly prayed towards the heaven. "Not such godly weather for a business offer though." His voice was overexaggerating a suspicious attitude. "What about you, mate?"
@Novelsandchocolate
Novelsandchocolate
Love sugar. Love literature.
Cecil Daziel
"I'd love to be another elusive millionaire but," Cecil groaned, "I'm just an accountant!
It's a dreadful profession, and I never get to buy mansions" he moaned, sneaking a yearning look at Mr.Black's particular mansion.
Then he squinted at the rapidly approaching island. "I'd say the fog's lifting," he said.
The fog was indeed lifting, and as the ferry sped toward shore the island was in full view.
The house perched on the cliffside like a broody giant, and on a small stretch of sand far below it a man was waiting for them.
Cecil suddenly became quiet, letting the sound of waves lapping at the sand fill his head.
To his ever optimistic spirit the house was an opportunity, but even an eternal optimist can be afraid!
And the house was the type of dwelling that inspired fear in onlookers.
Massive and made of a horrible kind of dark wood, it was like something out of the dark ages.
The more Cecil stared at house, the more foreboding it seemed. He tried to look away, but it was still there, just on the edge of his peripheral vision.
The trouble with the house, Cecil thought, was that it wasn't just a house!
Mr.Black had not built a mansion of simple wood and brick. He had built an extension of himself. He had built something cold and ruthless, with a certain magnetism, a charm that drew you to it even as it squeezed the life out of you.
"Damn, it," Cecil cried out, "I'm getting all broody! That house is just a house, and the island's just an island, and that's that!"
He turned to to the other passengers with a red and glistening face and a breath that came all too fast .
"We've been on this ferry for an eternity! Does anyone even know when we're going to land and face that scumbag Black?"
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spiderlegs
Indubitable and Inscrutable
A younger woman made some cheery announcement that Helen hardly heard. She spared the woman a quick glance: foreign, she decided. Probably American. That big white smile, and aggressive positivity said as much.
Somewhere behind her two men had struck up a conversation--or at least a bit of banter. Turning her head a slender inch, Helen watched them from the corner of her eye. The one--a slicked-back, older fellow with roving eyes--claimed to be some sort of accountant, while his companion--younger, yet just as quick-tongued--a minor celebrity of some sort. Their words flashed back and forth in the muffled silence. Quick, jittery banter. She was not the only one unsettled by her invitation.
So why come? She posed the rhetorical question as much to the men as to herself. Why indeed?
Leaning on the railing she peered into the fog and saw it had begun to lift. Little by little, then faster, it evaporated, revealing the mansion in all its luxurious humility. It was a dark, crabbed thing, and reminded Helen for all the world of an enormous gargoyle, coiled on itself and glaring at the ocean that restrained it. A manservant or butler of some kind stood on the docks, as patient as a statue in his stiff black suit. A shiver ran down her spine. How long had he been waiting? Minutes? Hours? Days?
Fanciful thinking, all of it, and she shut it from her mind. From nearby she heard the older man (no gentleman he) speaking freely of their host. With such a loose and wagging tongue, she'd hate to see him drunk. Little wonder he was at Black's beck and call, humble accountant or not.
Looking about herself, she noted the other guests who had gathered on the deck while she stood brooding. The American girl, the not-so-gentlemen, another more-English-seeming girl, and a young woman who looked almost entirely out of place in her plain dress and sensible shoes. What Black wanted with her, she didn't want to know. Approaching her, Helen nodded genteelly.
"Fog's lifting," she observed, making a brief foray into smalltalk. "Just in time, really. You're here for the dinner, I expect."
@Smile
GhastlySquash
Two Thousand Club
Monical Cromwell
The man's outburst practically grabbed Monica's attention. Here was a gent that was absolutely right and also absolutely rude at the same time. In brief, he sounded like the kind of person Monica was going to make small talk with.
The other woman had nearly and almost completely ignored her. So too did a few others. And she did not take that lightly. Maybe they had motion sickness, but that was no excuse to be rude and aloof, holding their heads up high.
And that one man had said something she considered unspeakable. He directly insulted the host. A scumbag? What the heck was he thinking?
@Novelsandchocolate
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or are you naturally this grouchy?" Monica walked forward, her eyes staring straight into Cecil's. She pulled up her coat a bit, but her gloved hand was very close to smacking some sense into the idiot. "What's your problem, huh? Maybe you can wait inside like a good little boy scout instead of talking shit about our host? Or get a drink? Nothing like liquid courage to make you face up against a Brit, or maybe that really isn't muscle in your arm."
She playfully tipped the guy's shoulder, giving him another playful smile. "Just relax and enjoy the journey, alright hon? It isn't going to be much longer. And besides, I hate seeing someone like you getting all riled up. Why don't you save some for me, tonight, huh?"
Maybe the guy would wanna have some fun later. Monica could sure use it. In truth, she found most tea parties boring and well...stupid. Nothing like mixing some fun with pleasure, right?
At this moment, she also took a gander at the mansion. Certainly wasn't like her white brick manor back in Maryland, but at the same time she couldn't exactly call it some monster's castle either. Besides, New York could be this foggy and this foreboding with ten times the amount of buildings and equally nasty people.
She then turned to the other two women, one of whom had attempted some poor form of small talk. How pathetic. "Heh, maybe I ought to mingle with the ladies instead. But you guys look like you're real fun, so why don't you convince me to stay and maybe we can chit-chat before we get off the boat?"
The man's outburst practically grabbed Monica's attention. Here was a gent that was absolutely right and also absolutely rude at the same time. In brief, he sounded like the kind of person Monica was going to make small talk with.
The other woman had nearly and almost completely ignored her. So too did a few others. And she did not take that lightly. Maybe they had motion sickness, but that was no excuse to be rude and aloof, holding their heads up high.
And that one man had said something she considered unspeakable. He directly insulted the host. A scumbag? What the heck was he thinking?
@Novelsandchocolate
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or are you naturally this grouchy?" Monica walked forward, her eyes staring straight into Cecil's. She pulled up her coat a bit, but her gloved hand was very close to smacking some sense into the idiot. "What's your problem, huh? Maybe you can wait inside like a good little boy scout instead of talking shit about our host? Or get a drink? Nothing like liquid courage to make you face up against a Brit, or maybe that really isn't muscle in your arm."
She playfully tipped the guy's shoulder, giving him another playful smile. "Just relax and enjoy the journey, alright hon? It isn't going to be much longer. And besides, I hate seeing someone like you getting all riled up. Why don't you save some for me, tonight, huh?"
Maybe the guy would wanna have some fun later. Monica could sure use it. In truth, she found most tea parties boring and well...stupid. Nothing like mixing some fun with pleasure, right?
At this moment, she also took a gander at the mansion. Certainly wasn't like her white brick manor back in Maryland, but at the same time she couldn't exactly call it some monster's castle either. Besides, New York could be this foggy and this foreboding with ten times the amount of buildings and equally nasty people.
She then turned to the other two women, one of whom had attempted some poor form of small talk. How pathetic. "Heh, maybe I ought to mingle with the ladies instead. But you guys look like you're real fun, so why don't you convince me to stay and maybe we can chit-chat before we get off the boat?"
Small talks were spreading quicker than Jane's expectations. She vividly felt gazed shifting from one to another and was sure about what they thought of her; simple enough to stand out like grass in a flower bouquet. She was wondering if she could go ahead and join the group although regarding their ages she was counted young and it'd be rude for her to be the first to talk. She even didn't try to listen to them, not wanting to eavesdrop, yet there was no chance to ignore men's voice when they spoke aloud like school children. Even words they used and their perceptive of the party was childish. On the other hand, it was very interesting to know that she wasn't the only one who saw Black nothing more than a jerk. She was thirsty to learn more about that man and his shameful back ground but seemed that other guests disagreed. Displease could be seen in their eyes and the dolly rich woman even warned the offender to watch his tongue. Honestly, Jane didn't want to join that kind of conversation at all. That woman was something that she blamed the most; a dishonor to all females! Luckily, she had a chance to speak to some likable lady who could be a symbol of respect. The elder woman had chosen her to spend the remained time with which made the young woman glad. "Fog's lifting... Just in time, really. You're here for the dinner, I expect." She said. Oddly, Jane felt a little shy in front of her which wasn't regular for her. "Yes, thanks God... it's going to be a beautiful day when the sun rises up higher in the sky." She commented with a plain but sincere smile. "That's right. Actually my aunt was supposed to attend but unfortunately she's too old for these kind of trips... so I used this opportunity to socialize with some of her acquaintances." She tried to not look over at the other woman who was whispering things to men and kept her blank eyes connected with Helen's observing eyes. "I'm a little nervous about tonight's gathering. I even don't know the host and it looks like people's got different images of him!" Her smile fainted a moment as her eyes cast look toward the bickering group before focusing back on Helen. "May I ask you about Mr. Black? What kind of person is he?" She questioned innocently pretending to be completely ignorant.
@spiderlegs
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ChibiMonkey
Why stop dreaming when you wake up?
Cecilja Chmiel
Standing amidst the boat, among several other suspected guests of Mr. Black, Cecilja couldn't help but be amused, watching the people seem to all avoid each other in an ominous air, before it seemed everyone was talking to someone all of a sudden. Being who she was, she had a very keen and watchful eye, and it was hard for her to miss anything. Growing up in the dirt, constantly in hiding and having to be careful whom to trust - it typically meant not trusting anyone. And that was no different in this situation. Of course, she never let that on about herself, and always put on a carefree, fun-loving facade for those around here, just like the guests here. It didn't mean she was faking her happiness, though. She was truly enjoying this ride, unlike many others amongst the guests, like one particular green faced man on the edge of the ship, where another had jubilantly started chiding jokes with the male, making him forget his seasickness. They seemed like quite the lively pair.
On the contrary, there was another lively guest who clearly was only alienating herself, even if she didn't realize it. She couldn't help but giggle a bit as she watched the brunette try and catch the others attention, before no one seemed to pay much mind, she took it into her own hands. Smiling, Cecilja made her firsts impressions of everyone aboard, and decided to talk to the lively pair, always enjoying a good conversation, though that didn't mean the others amongst them weren't good conversationists. She was sure she'd have a lively chat with everyone by the evening fall.
Making her way to the small group on the edge of the boat, consisting of the two joking men and the attention grabbing women, clearly speaking her mind, the Polish redheaded mingled her way into the conversation lightly, smiling as she stepped up to them "Now come on, whats the fuss all about before the party has even begun?" she smiled warmly at the brunette "Clearly this man simply has just as much of a mind of his own as you do, miss. Is that such a bad thing?" she said casually leaning back against the railing, no fear of a jump in the waves that could send her tumbling overboard. "We're all friends of Mr. Black's here, are we not? Or....perhaps acquaintances is a better term. But surely he wouldn't have invited us if he did not wish us to be in his presence, so surely we all have our own varies relationships with the infamous host himself" she said with a charming smile, playing peacemaker and not wishing anyone to be upset with one another "After all, this is a party of sorts. No?" she spoke with her accent "Let's enjoy ourselves, yes, boys?" she said, looking to the brunette then to the two males beside them "I can tell this is going to be quite an entertaining night."
@Sunbather @GhastlySquash @Novelsandchocolate
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JustSmile
~Always Confused~
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Annette smiled, as she looked of the railing into the foggy sea. It was a beautiful sight, yes it was dark, and brought a more negative feel to the other people on the deck, or maybe that was there natural attitude. The wind blew a her blonde hair out of her face, when she turned around at the other people attending the meeting of Mr.Black. She seemed to be the youngest, which probably made the other people on the ship look down on her. Everyone was talking. Was it the way she was holding herself? or maybe they just did not have a interested in talking to her. She began to walk around, she would kill for a cocktail. She walked to the other side of the boat. Maybe there was a different view. She was practically dying of boredom, she sighed. Well they were close to arriving at Mr. Black. She was more nervous then anything, Mr. Black was a big part in her fathers plans, one mess up, and she would be cut from his will.
She smiled at two guys, and continued circling around the boat, humming trying to make time pass. Staring off into the sea, was not as fun after the tenth time. She would communicate, but everyone seem to know each other or at least one other person. She sighed again, this was going to be a very long, and bored ferry ride.
Attachments
Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
Suddenly, a redheaded woman approached, drawing in Dean's attention with her voice. "Well, well, oh my..." he purred with a smile on his face. "Had I only known we had such soothing voices in our group of... aah... distinguished passengers, I wouldn't have tried to encourage anyone instead of asking you to do so." He smiled warmly and pulled his hat down to greet her more formally. "Well, I absolutely agree with this wonderful, young lady here. How many times are we going to be in such an omnious residency, am I right? I'l admit, I'm not particularly fond of the current...." He looked up a little bit, instantly feeling drops on his face. He frowned a little. "conditions... But... buuut... Surely, as grown ups, we can handle a little cold water, now can we?"
Dean flattened out his coat a little, then wiped over his face to get rid of the water drops. He had a child-like energy to him in his movements. "Ah, so, what do we owe the pleasure of your presence to? Our green-faced chap and I were just discussing as to why we may be invited. It's a fascinating concept, isn't it? That a man can be so wealthy, people follow him even if they have no real, uh... what's the right word... ah.. no real incentive, yes? Really, I find it a little worrying, to be honest." He chuckled a little bit. "But I am quite fine with that if it grants me the pleasure of such wonderful companions, mhm. So what are you here for, Miss...?"
@Novelsandchocolate @ChibiMonkey
GhastlySquash
Two Thousand Club
@Sunbather
Monica couldn't believe this guy. Not only had she directly participated in a conversation with Dean and his cohort Cecil, not to mention chewing out Cecil, but the guy apparently would rather take notice in this new girl than her!
"Cromwell... Monica Cromwell." Monica interjected, before the other girl could finish. "And as for my friend here, I'll allow her to introduce herself when she wants and however she wants to."
@ChibiMonkey
She looked over at Chmiel, her eyes studying the woman who had inserted herself into the conversation, probably to steal her thunder. Not that Monica particularly cared. She could always find someone to have fun with, that wasn't a problem at all. But if this new girl thought she could steal something...
And now this Dean character was asking for her name. And as much as his complete ignorance boiled Monica's blood faster than a stew on a hot Texas afternoon, she didn't mind the fact that the other woman was trying to play peacemaker.
In fact, she'd help. "I think you're right, hon. No use in fighting with your fellow guests when it's a time to have fun, right? I guess my problem is really that I was always taught to have manners and my parents always scolded me if I talked bad about a host."
She chuckled a bit. "Even if they were a bit of a potty mouth themselves."
@Novelsandchocolate
She held her hand out to Cecil. "My offer still stands though. I think you're a rather handsome young man. It'd be a shame to see someone like that throwing a tantrum when we haven't even stepped one foot on the man's property."
Afterwards, she turned back to Dean, raising a brow. She supposed that he could be some sort of disgruntled business partner? Nobody got into a business without having a few enemies under the belt. By then the question was raised as to why on earth Mr. Black would invite them in the first place? "No real incentive, huh? Well, I don't know about you, but I'm here by my own choice. Mr. Black practically raised me after my father died. Paid for my school, my house, everything. If it weren't for him, I don't know where me and my momma would be."
@JustSmile
Looking over, she could see another woman floating around the group, clearly unsure of what to do. Another pretty young thing, but not something Monica wanted to leave hanging in the cold. Monica couldn't help but relate to her. So far, everyone had been rather dismissive of her on this ferry ride. It was an irritating fact that she couldn't get over. Attention was the one thing she craved in parties and she was barely getting any. At least the redhead noticed her. Everyone else probably did too, but figured that for whatever reason, a loud-mouthed American was just trouble.
Still, that didn't mean someone else had to feel the same either.
"Hey you." She called out to the young girl, trying to flash a friendly smile. "Why don't you come on over here? There's a saying that the more bodies you have, the warmer you actually are."
Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
"Actually..." He rubbed his chin. "I take that back. I believe this fierce attitude of yours was just a little too intimidating on such a small boat. But of course, that's no excuse to not pay a lovely woman such as yourself the proper attention. So please, accept my most sincere apology." He winked at her. "And you know, sincere apologies from showmen are quite the rarity, hehe." He took her side, facing back towards the house that approached rapidly "So, Monica... Miss Cromwell... What is leading you on this wet and wild cruise towards this nightmare of a mansion?"
@GhastlySquash
ChibiMonkey
Why stop dreaming when you wake up?
Laughing airily at the mans comment of her 'soothing voice' she smiled sweetly to him "Why, that's the first I've heard that. Typically American's become rather frustrated with my accent" she commented, though her accent was definitely noticeable, it hardly hindered her speech in the least, only present enough to prove that she wasn't a native englishman - or women. When he commented on the dull weather, much like the other guests were clearly displeased by, Cecilja her seal didn't seem phased by it in the least. She wasn't even wearing anything terribly warm either, yet still had no goosebumps on her flesh.
"Oh dead, this little water? It's not much to complain about. In fact, I find it rather refreshing" she said, and it shown on her face that she truly thought that, and wasn't just trying to be kindly optimistic and bright about the situation "It's not all too cold, though I will admit water won't do with my hair...." she commented lightly, putting a hand up tot her curled up-do, checking that it was still in tact "Though hair is hardly a concern, it's only an accessory. Don't you agree, Miss. Cromwell, was it?" she asked, turning her attention to the brunette, who despite he encouraging words, had a feeling the glamorous brunette would not so much agree with her theory.
As said brunette had slipped herself back into the conversation and the center of attention, Cecilja couldn't help but internally laugh, amused by the scene. The woman certain was an interesting character, wasn't she. Surely someone that not a lot of people would be able to handle. But Cecilja being the tangible woman she was to adapt to any type of person, she really hadn't a problem with it. As introductions were passed around, she realized she still had yet to give her own, as Monica had interjected before she could do so.
"Cecilja Chmiel" She offered with her charming smile "But please, Cecilja is fine if you please, I wouldn't want to trouble you with my last name" she joked lightly, as many people, especially Americans, often had trouble pronouncing the foreign spelling and accent of a name. "I suppose you could say I'm a friend of sorts of the mysterious man" she said glancing off towards the mansion "I could always do for a party or gathering, so I decided to come along for the fun of it. Though from here the mansion does look a little hellish....like something from a childbook, no?" she jaunted lightly.
@Sunbather @GhastlySquash
WolfOfProphecys
Ten Thousand Club
Frost, to put it bluntly, was fed up with the ferry ride already. Or, more accurately, she was fed up with the cold and the wet spray that came up over the side of the vessel, and was slightly annoyed at the others on the boat, most of whom were already talking merrily. Whilst she didn't want to go and talk to them, none of them had even glanced in her direction with curiosity, and had seemed to have decided she didn't exist. Perhaps she was just too much of a child in their eyes, for she did look younger than most on the ship.
She sighed, and backed away from the side of the ship, and pulled something out of her pocket. It was a watch, clearly broken, and she stood there for a moment, studying it. Her partner in business had allowed her to take it, along with a few of her tools, so she could try and fix the contraption when she was bored, for he was well aware of how quickly the 28 year old could become bored. And when Frost got bored, Frost became rude, and grumpy
JustSmile
~Always Confused~
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She smiled to the girl that had just called her over. There was a crowd of three around her, she had no idea what there names were, but they were all gorgeous people. There was two males, and two females or at least that she could see. She waked over to the group, and smiled to them all. "Oh thank you for inviting me over. I am not so use to large groups, but hopefully it will produce more warmth its freezing on this boat!" She laughed, knew how to speak English clearly, but she still had a thick German accent. Some people think the accent is intimidating due to what happened in the earlier years, but learned how to make it sound sweet, due to clients recommendations. She shook the hand of the female that called her over. "Hello, I am Annette Gutermuth its a pleasure to meet you." She smiled her bright smile, she hoped she could relate to someone or at least have a conversation. She is very umständlich, that is awkward in German, she at least thought she was. "May I ask your name?" she noticed that she was in a somewhat of a bicker with a handsome man, and another beautiful woman. It may be obvious what the were arguing about, attention but she didn't know for sure.
@GhastlySquash
Attachments
Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
"A friend, yes? Well... seems like this brick of a house is a false lead, Mr. Black seems to have exquisite tastes when he makes lovely friends such as yourself." Then, his attention was diverted to a rather timid seeming young woman. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I can't not strike up some chatter when such an adorable girl with such a cute accent joins in. I must admit, I've always had a soft spot for the German tongue, mhm. The tongue of poetry, yes, yes." He bowed a little, to greet her respectfully. "If I remember right, my first boss's wife's name was Anette as well. It seems the name gifts the lovely attitude." He smiled at her with great confidence, yet it also a warm smile. "Ah, I may have spoken to soon. With this kind of company, the ferry can take it's time all it wants."
@ChibiMonkey @JustSmile
GhastlySquash
Two Thousand Club
@JustSmile
"Monica Cromwell," Monica took her hand. "So, German huh? What part?" There was a sense of alarm that briefly flew over Monica's chest. Not so much that the war was still fresh in her head, but anything that had the word German always left a bad taste in her mouth. Well...at least she wasn't a Jap. Still couldn't believe those traitors struck Honolulu, and of course the government had to take measures after all.
While Dean began flirting with the latest European set of curves to enter the fray, Monica noticed a girl off to the side, working on something. By the looks of it, she didn't seem to happy. Rather concerned, actually. As if that watch was something that had gone all wrong.
@Novelsandchocolate @Sunbather @ChibiMonkey
Sighing to herself, Monica turned back to the group. "I'll be back in just a second, gentleman. Sorry to cut you off so short." She turned to Cecil, before playfully leaning over and pecking him on the cheek.
@WolfOfProphecys
With this in mind, Monica started walking towards Frost, looming over her shoulder. "Whatcha working on, honey? Couldn't help but notice you're all by yourself. What happened to that reporter guy? Figured you two could've hooked up but he somehow dropped off the face of the earth, huh?"
To be fair, Monica barely remembered him. Maybe it was just her imagination. Running away with her again and causing her to fantasize about some affair she must've gotten into back home.
@spiderlegs @Smile
"Anyway, honey, why don't you mingle with us, huh? Or you can go and talk to those two fruits over there." She gestured to Helen and whatever-the-heck that other woman was. Those two bags seemed to be having quite an intimate conversation with each other.
WolfOfProphecys
Ten Thousand Club
Frost jumped as she was spoken to by someone, and turned around, almost dropping her watch in her panic, fumbling with it to keep it grasped in her hands. For a moment she just stared at the other woman, before finally allowing a reply to slip past her lips, fiddling with the item in her hands, "Its just a watch" She responded quietly, "I'm supposed to fix it…" She paused, and looked up at the other woman, before shakily slipping the item back into her pocket, studying the other for a moment, before frowning, "Reporter?" She asked, looking around. Had someone spoken to her? Had she been in such a daze that she had accidentally ignored someone?
She shook her head then, "I…I can't remember a reporter" She stated, trying to act more confident in front of the other woman, not wanting to make herself seem like a child, "I'll uh… mingle with you… thank you" She said quietly, though happiness gleamed in her eyes. She needed something, or someone to distract her.
@GhastlySquash
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