Post by Belarus on Oct 28, 2013 11:05:14 GMT -6
The crackling of an open fire and the comfort of a reclining chair, and perhaps a cup of tea to relax the nerves. That was all she seeked and hoped to find, though to her avail, has not quite found. She wasn't counting on finding the cup of tea, but perhaps she could find some reading material. Ah yes, something to distract her from the ominous aura and the pessimistic thoughts. Pessimism tended to give you a weight you couldn't shake off.
She really could do with a good book. She quickly found that she was well-equipped for surviving the manor alone. She had the habit of concealing various knives on her person, a habit acquired in her Soviet days. This had at least given her a fighting chance, but for now, as a lone unit, she would be considered monster bait. Logistically, being a lone unit against an indefinite amount of enemies wasn't going to cut it. She was definitely adapt with her knives, able to cut down the common man with ease and strike fear into men as large as her brother. Had she been born a man, she would perhaps have been able to put her gifts to the common good, if her allegiance had not been put to her brother. She just found killing things she had no knowledge of simply difficult, but doable if she really wanted to invest her energy. It would be troublesome to do so, though. After all, how would she be able to rest easy with the threat of them? Though, this wouldn't be the first time she had to sleep on an unpeaceful mind.
She was not equipped on reading material at all. If she had known she would be here longer than she had first estimated, she would probably have brought a copy of the Pravda to occupy her time, or a small Nicholas Sparks novel, or even some tarot cards to amuse herself. Tarot cards would have been nice for decision making as well. She knew she probably wouldn't have much time to sit down and read peacefully, but wandering the halls alone was simply not good for the nerves.
Oh, she would kill for one of her volumes back home. Perhaps a book on the occult would give her some logical explanation for the occurrences of the night. Logic was a comfort in crisis. Given that this was a manor and seemed to have the usual rooms found in a rich man's abode, there had to be some sort of study or library or...
She cautiously tried doors, opening them a crack, then closing most of them in the split millisecond that she rationalized could not be a place for books to rest. There was that small fear for what was beyond the doors, and the fear that even if she did find a library, she would find something other than books.
She wished she had not chosen to don a pair of ivory heels with the wedding dress, or had chosen a wedding dress in the first place. The wedding dress would surely be ruined by the time she reached the exit.
If I reach the exit, that is.
The clicking of the ivory heels on the wooden floor was rhythmic. One - two - one - two - one - two. Strategically, another costume would have been a much better choice, the skirts and train being quite a drag. The hem was starting to become grossly wet from the water, weighing her down. There was a simple white underdress that went to the middle of her thighs and a corset, tightened to accentuate a lovely hourglass silhouette, and several layers of silk, lace and fabric. It was a good dress for concealing weapons, the sunflower bouquet only needing to conceal two throwing knives. Maybe she would garner some sympathy for dressing like a bride, an honour she knew not of. Maybe an attacker would hesitate to attack a woman dressed as a bride, a bride being a woman at the happiest point of her life. Then again, these attackers seemed quite heartless.
One - two - one - two.
Every step was taken with the pessimistic thought of one step eventually reaching the ears of one of these beasts, to eventually come out and maim her before she could get her hands on a book. And who knows if anyone would hear her screams? Of course, there was the optimistic thought of one of the steps reaching the ears of one of her fellow nations and her solitude ending (preferably her holder sister, who she was worried for). She was going to assume the worst.
She continued trying doors, muttering to herself whenever she turned the knob of a locked door. It would be terrible if the library was locked. She reached the end of the hall and turned the doorknob.
If this isn't it, I turn back and I'll go find somewhere that people are likely to find.
She held her breath, silently counting to ten, and opened the door.
Jackpot.
She walked in, slowly scoping the room and making certain that no one was in. She closed the door behind her when she deemed it safe, reasoning that it was safe enough to do so and that the opening of the door would be a signal to prepare herself. The library also seemed to be flooded like the rest of the hallways, and so the content in the bottom shelves were unaccessible. She would have tried to go find drier ground, but she hasn't quite found a way to the next floor. And perhaps it was weariness... a weariness wishing for the comfort of a book.
She took a gander at the wide selection of books, hoping to find something worth reading. Animalia, Philosophie, Latinae... this mansion should have something of the demented variety. She went up and down the aisles of the large library, her eyes scanning the shelves for a read on the occult.
She saw a book entitled "Luminae Spiritus," and went to grab for it. A sharp click came from the door. She swooped back, unsheathing a knife, pointing it defensively in front of her. She kept quiet and waited for the figure at the door to enter.
---
OOC; incorporated the flooding!
She really could do with a good book. She quickly found that she was well-equipped for surviving the manor alone. She had the habit of concealing various knives on her person, a habit acquired in her Soviet days. This had at least given her a fighting chance, but for now, as a lone unit, she would be considered monster bait. Logistically, being a lone unit against an indefinite amount of enemies wasn't going to cut it. She was definitely adapt with her knives, able to cut down the common man with ease and strike fear into men as large as her brother. Had she been born a man, she would perhaps have been able to put her gifts to the common good, if her allegiance had not been put to her brother. She just found killing things she had no knowledge of simply difficult, but doable if she really wanted to invest her energy. It would be troublesome to do so, though. After all, how would she be able to rest easy with the threat of them? Though, this wouldn't be the first time she had to sleep on an unpeaceful mind.
She was not equipped on reading material at all. If she had known she would be here longer than she had first estimated, she would probably have brought a copy of the Pravda to occupy her time, or a small Nicholas Sparks novel, or even some tarot cards to amuse herself. Tarot cards would have been nice for decision making as well. She knew she probably wouldn't have much time to sit down and read peacefully, but wandering the halls alone was simply not good for the nerves.
Oh, she would kill for one of her volumes back home. Perhaps a book on the occult would give her some logical explanation for the occurrences of the night. Logic was a comfort in crisis. Given that this was a manor and seemed to have the usual rooms found in a rich man's abode, there had to be some sort of study or library or...
She cautiously tried doors, opening them a crack, then closing most of them in the split millisecond that she rationalized could not be a place for books to rest. There was that small fear for what was beyond the doors, and the fear that even if she did find a library, she would find something other than books.
She wished she had not chosen to don a pair of ivory heels with the wedding dress, or had chosen a wedding dress in the first place. The wedding dress would surely be ruined by the time she reached the exit.
If I reach the exit, that is.
The clicking of the ivory heels on the wooden floor was rhythmic. One - two - one - two - one - two. Strategically, another costume would have been a much better choice, the skirts and train being quite a drag. The hem was starting to become grossly wet from the water, weighing her down. There was a simple white underdress that went to the middle of her thighs and a corset, tightened to accentuate a lovely hourglass silhouette, and several layers of silk, lace and fabric. It was a good dress for concealing weapons, the sunflower bouquet only needing to conceal two throwing knives. Maybe she would garner some sympathy for dressing like a bride, an honour she knew not of. Maybe an attacker would hesitate to attack a woman dressed as a bride, a bride being a woman at the happiest point of her life. Then again, these attackers seemed quite heartless.
One - two - one - two.
Every step was taken with the pessimistic thought of one step eventually reaching the ears of one of these beasts, to eventually come out and maim her before she could get her hands on a book. And who knows if anyone would hear her screams? Of course, there was the optimistic thought of one of the steps reaching the ears of one of her fellow nations and her solitude ending (preferably her holder sister, who she was worried for). She was going to assume the worst.
She continued trying doors, muttering to herself whenever she turned the knob of a locked door. It would be terrible if the library was locked. She reached the end of the hall and turned the doorknob.
If this isn't it, I turn back and I'll go find somewhere that people are likely to find.
She held her breath, silently counting to ten, and opened the door.
Jackpot.
She walked in, slowly scoping the room and making certain that no one was in. She closed the door behind her when she deemed it safe, reasoning that it was safe enough to do so and that the opening of the door would be a signal to prepare herself. The library also seemed to be flooded like the rest of the hallways, and so the content in the bottom shelves were unaccessible. She would have tried to go find drier ground, but she hasn't quite found a way to the next floor. And perhaps it was weariness... a weariness wishing for the comfort of a book.
She took a gander at the wide selection of books, hoping to find something worth reading. Animalia, Philosophie, Latinae... this mansion should have something of the demented variety. She went up and down the aisles of the large library, her eyes scanning the shelves for a read on the occult.
She saw a book entitled "Luminae Spiritus," and went to grab for it. A sharp click came from the door. She swooped back, unsheathing a knife, pointing it defensively in front of her. She kept quiet and waited for the figure at the door to enter.
---
OOC; incorporated the flooding!