[h2][b][i][color=008000][center]In This Fine Town Of Arkham[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h2]
[h3][b][i][color=008000][center]A Night At Wilde Hall[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][img]https://s3.eu-central-1.wasabisys.com/devonilx7/2020/04/forest_path_dark_150398_1920x1080-1536x864.jpg[/img][/center]
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[center][b]"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"[/b] - [i]H. P. Lovecraft[/i][/center]
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[center][@Lady Selune][@psych0pomp][/center]

Mister Violet took a long drag from his cigarette, the eyes behind the mask watching [b][color=#cc00cc]Renee Bellerose[/color][/b] as she spoke. The smile on his face seemed to falter at her mention of the war, and it was almost as if the mere mention of it made the shadows grow even deeper around them. Even after the Mademoiselle did what she could to brush off the subject, the smile didn't return to Mister Violet's face for a beat, until the image of the cigarette holder seemed to jerk him back to reality. 

	The charm and the smile was back in an instant, as if it had never been gone. The silver cigarette case was back in his hand in a flash, and he held a cigarette out.

	[b]"Of course. Pardon my manners, Mademoiselle. I was miles away for a moment."[/b] 

	At the question from [b][color=ac2100]Moses Reaves[/color][/b], Mister Violet's gaze flicked across to the other man. Taking another drag of his own cigarette, he shrugged theatrically, one eyebrow raised. 

	[b]"I've certainly heard rumours. But for every ghost story I've heard about things that go bump in the night, I've heard another story about a dandy shindig. Besides, if the company is as good as you two fine folk, then I'm willing to risk a ghoulie or two!"[/b]

	Mister Violet threw his head back with laughter again, the slipping of the mask earlier long forgotten. Taking another breath, he seemed to remember his surroundings, and glanced around at the encroaching darkness of the Wilde Woods with a frown.

	[b]"That being said, I would rather we were getting to know each other somewhere that was a little less sinister... If your invitations are the same as mine, then I believe we're expected to meet a carriage? I certainly wouldn't be against the idea of looking for it."[/b]

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[center][@Eviledd1984][/center]

It may have been to his faith that [b][color=0054a6]Benjamin Zebrowski[/color][/b] turned, but against the darkness of the Arkham night, it was hard to even imagine the dawn. As his footsteps rang out on the cobblestones at his feet, the streets of the city were practically deserted. Every now and then, he saw curtains and shutters twitch, slivers of light arching out onto the street as eyes followed him. Curious, or something else. Either way, the thought set shivers up Benjamin's spine as he walked, and he found himself picking up his pace. 

	The invitation in his pocket claimed that a carriage would take him to Wilde Hall, but as he rounded the final corner, there was no carriage waiting at the edge of the woods. Instead, there was an empty road, and a shape in the shadows. Instinctively, he tensed up, suddenly on edge. The shape was human, or at least, it looked human, but it was smaller than him, shorter and leaner. His heart in his mouth, Benjamin carefully stepped forwards, all too aware that the streetlamp over his head was the last glimmer of light before the enveloping darkness of the Wilde Woods. 

	Each footstep seemed to ring out like the tolling of a bell, almost deafening against the surrounding darkness, and then the shape moved, turning, stepping into the dim light. An inhuman face, twisted into a leering smile, Benjamin was caught between turning on his heels, or taking a swing at the creature, until he noticed the pale, almost white, blonde hair, and the bright blue eyes looking back at him from behind the elaborate mask. Almost laughing at himself, he realised that the inhuman creature was in fact a woman, a few inches shorter than he was and well-dressed in a dark blue dress. Her face was almost covered by her mask, with only the eyes looking back at him. The voice that emerged from behind the mask was soft and almost sing-song, dramatically out of place against the darkness around them.

	[b]"I'm sorry if I startled you, sir. I was expecting a carriage but... well, as you can see, it seems that we missed our ride."[/b]

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[center][@Penny][/center]

The stranger seemed to flounder under the glare of the coachman, and for a moment, [b][color=008000]Opportunity Knox[/color][/b] thought that he had lost his voice entirely, until he suddenly blurted out a response.

	[b]"I thought... There was someone following me. Footsteps..."[/b]

	All at once, Opportunity could see the coachman's face change. His eyebrows knitted together, and a hand reached into his jacket. He glanced across to where Opportunity still stood, just outside the doors of the The Excelsior Hotel. This late, most of the patrons had retired to their rooms, or to the saloon, but there were still a few stragglers passing by, casting perplexed glances at the unusual group.
	
	[b]"Stay here, ma'am."[/b]

	With that, the coachman stepped around the the corner, and Opportunity could have sworn that she saw a flash of metal in his hand before he was gone from view. The stranger seemed to compose himself a little, fishing a handkerchief from his jacket pocket as he caught his breath. He pulled the fox-like mask away from his face for a moment as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and Opportunity looked him over. He was a good few inches shorter than Opportunity, and slim, and as Opportunity watched him with curiosity, he seemed to notice her, offering a weak smile as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

	[b]"Apologies, I'm afraid I've made rather the fool of myself. I am - well, I suppose I'm Mister Grey. How do you do, ma'am?[/b]