AuntFlavia

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I'm so happy I got to use the word trundle. One my of favorite words.

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“Oh, Silas!” George exclaimed happily, though he was as quiet as ever. He returned the sudden hug with interest; he looked as if he was going to pick the young man up. “You're soaked to the skin; don't tell me you walked all the way here. Well, I'm glad to have another friend here. I was starting to feel...” George's eye wandered to the open front door behind Silas as yet another limo arrived. “...out of place.”

George had liked Silas from the moment he met him through Geoff, he was a good kid at heart, like most kids were. He remembered how Silas told him some of his story, growing up surrounded by violence and then earning his way out. George thought that it was admirable; not everyone worked for their wealth. He wondered if the same could be said for some of the other guests tonight. Suddenly, he remembered Maxwell standing just behind him.

“Silas, this is my good friend and neighbor Maxwell Everett. I don't believe you've met. Maxwell, this is Silas Russell.” George watched as Maxwell gave a boy a quick, firm handshake and then retreated to the edge of the hallway again as more people were coming their way. “Geoff introduced us some time ago.” He said to Max, who was looking rather sourly at their surroundings.

The walls was adorned with old paintings and portraits that had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places and some of the frames were starting to collapse. The wallpaper was also peeling in some spots and everything had a musty odor about it. It didn't seem like the place was habitable.

“Good lord. I don't see how dear old Geoff could stand living in a place like this.”

“Betcha there's bats 'n here. It's got that look.” Maxwell huffed.

“Oh, don't be silly. Or rude; we're guests, remember?”

“You're a guest, I'm a tag-along.”

“Oh, fine.” George mumbled into his turtleneck, trundling down the corridor as Maxwell followed closely behind. He only walked down far enough to get out of peoples' way. They seemed to be piling in all at once. Everyone was punctual these days, apparently. “I don't know what his problem is.” George joked secretly to Silas. “He's the one who told me to go in the first place. Well, what do you think? Should we meet some of our fellow guests or do a little exploring? It seems like there's a lot to see in this old house.”

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I'm on it right now, actually. :)

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I don't see how our characters could do anything but hate each other, though I kind of noticed that our little dynamic duos are almost neat little mirrored images of each other.

"Close that door Jenkins, you dolt! And find someone else to do the heavy lifting."

"No, George, you're not allowed to have snacks before dinner, now turn off the music that you're enjoying just because I don't like it."

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Yeah, don't kill the nice guys. At least we'll last until Geoff buys the farm.

Edit: For those interested I just threw a link for George's appearance in his CS because I couldn't help but include my favorite cuddly stage actor.

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Thanks :) Jerks and butt holes are usually higher up on the 'to-kill' lists, but it would have more emotional impact if the killer offed someone nice like Artemio or George...I mean, wait, no. Don't kill George, whoever the killer is! Think of the children!

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I had to chop down my post a little. I went bonkers and wrote it right after I finished making my characters. -_-; Too many words, I guess I'll save that flashback for later.

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George Marrack and Maxwell Everett were trapped together in a tin box that was rolling amiably down the country road. Geoff's manor was only six or so hours away, so they decided to make a road trip out of it. The car's appearance was a bit worse for wear after all of the driving, so it seemed that they wouldn't be arriving in style. George was lazily humming along with the radio, which was slowly starting to lose its reception. Maxwell drummed his fingers on the window next to him, his tired eyes following the wilderness that passed alongside them.

“...clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am-”

“Hate this song.” Maxwell interrupted.

George attempted to change the station, but could only find some talk radio that was blanketed with static. He gave up and shut the radio off for now, his thoughts drifting to their spoils from that last gas station some miles back. “How much of that trail mix is left?”

“Y'should probably save that for after. Save your stomach for the fancy-schmancy dinner.” Maxwell mumbled tiredly into the window.

“You're going to pass out into your soup.” George pointed out manner-of-factly.

“Nope.”

George took the next right, his car's suspension crying out in weak protest over the backwoods road. There was minute or so of tense silence as both of the men knew they were nearing their destination. Just above the tree line, the silhouetted jagged peaks of the roof rose into view like fingers grasping the sky. When the manor came into full view, George couldn't help but stare at it. It loomed over everything around it and stood alone, its dark recesses both watching and concealing. They soon passed through the open and yet uninviting gates, parked, and got out of the car. Instead of stretching his legs after the journey, George looked up at the multiple floors above them, suddenly feeling very small. The windows reflected the outside view back at him.

“Well, this is certainly...gloomy.” he said out loud as Maxwell marched up to him with an umbrella like a trained dog. George whistled softly at the sight of one of the other guests puffing at a cigar while being followed by a butler. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the distaste in Maxwell's expression and clicked his tongue at him. “Max, please try to be civil. 'Fancy schmancy', remember?” He called out to one of the staff members, “Excuse me, miss? I'm sure that if you could give us directions, we can find our own way to our rooms.”

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I'll post when I get home from work. :D

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Mizuho said
Is this still accepting? :O

Oh hey, it's that Mizuho. :o (though I honestly can't remember what rp we were both in. *guilt*)