❥▐ cupid's brew

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Julius had a bad feeling about all this and parinoia stated to rear its ugly head. Though calm and composed he wondered if that would last when he encountered Patrick. For now he crossed his arms and waited with the others.

more detail to be added later due to unreliable internet

 

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xxxxxx What a dirty dismal home of a feverishly disgusting fat cat aristocrat like this Grant was! When Torvald entered the creaky old homestead with the others, he realized that this putrid wreck of a house had been built on the backs of not simply the oppressed, but the enslaved. No, it was no surprise that many old homes here in Percival County were relics of a past best forgotten, but the pristine white walls and clear windows, the grand doors and colonnades of the entire estate screamed barbaric voices in Torvald's head.

But this was a dangerous place, so he could do little. They were a bit aways from Bentley, and the murky, muddy smell of swamps only kilometers away stung his nose. Dragonflies played their buzzes throughout the air and the grass was rife with an orchestra of creatures that gave the entire estate a lively jump. This former plantation of a home had -- by Marx's soul -- sold away its crop for what was simply acres of useless land. Useless! Torvald puffed his chest as his face reddened. This land could have been used for the innocent working class people! Alas, alas! A man like Grant would not survive in a changing world, filled with revolution and infinite tumult. The boot of the proletariat would strike this vicious stamp of insult that this home was on the progression of the human race as it would all others like its cretinous existence.

Torvald shuffled in with the others as the plain-looking maid led them in. They had a maid! He wanted to yell at her to rise up against this tyrannical overlord of hers, to join his revolution, but before he could say a word he forced himself to scrunch up his face as the little party of adults sat down and she gallivanted off to some other part of this maze-like home. The interior was surprisingly less ostentatious than he expected, and he could almost call it homey, but the aching soreness of remembering how this place would have been built, and what sort of man Grant was, made him scowl at the very prospect of breathing the house's contaminated air.

There was a bowl of candy and a few drinks set out in front of everyone, but Torvald was suspicious enough to restrain himself from taking anything. He looked up at the others.

<< Right it is! By Stalin's boots, we should ask the bourgeois tyrant some questions. >> Torvald's voice was quiet enough so that it was heard only among the party, but it carried its familiar flame of evangelical preaching. << The working class will rise up and topple the mysteries and the revolution will come as a wave to rescue those we must rescue. That being said ... >> He cleared his throat.

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<< Where do you believe we should begin. >> The tone of his voice once again became slightly mired with ache and fatigue, but this change only served to allow his words more secrecy. << This Grant man holds extreme power in the town of Bentley. There are perhaps crevices everywhere that may allow him ears into our conversations, so we must check. >>

He turned to Bryan, eyeing the slight bulge in his pocket.
<< Be on your guard. You are the one who will be our greatest defensive asset. >>

Torvald's mind had sharpened, and his eyes darted around, tracing familiar paths in the air as if he had done this too many times. ​

 

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From one of the doorways comes Delilah Grant, wife of Patrick, wearing a long, glittering white gown. She doesn't seem very pleased about seeing you here, and takes a seat across from you without a greeting. Her legs fold and she scans over your little group with clear contentment. ❝... My husband and I have some ... preparations to make for the festival. He has gone ahead to Bentley Square ...❞ Her vision moves down over the candy littered coffee table before settling back on you. With a small smile, she reaches out a hand to take a piece of candy and slowly unwraps it. ❝... I assume you're here looking your friends. I don't think my husband will mind ... I can show you where they are ...❞

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⎝ DAY 4┊4/4 ⎞ ❧ ⎝ DATE┊MARCH 17TH ⎞ ❧ ⎝ LOCATION┊PATRICK'S HOUSE ⎞​

⎝ MOOD┊SMILE! ⎞ ❧ ⎝ ❤??┊0% ⎞ ❧ ⎝ WEARING ⎞ ❧ ⎝ OOC┊ — ⎞​

After Freddie opened the door, a maid answered, and seemed to stare at him for a longer moment before he asked about Patrick, and then she invited them in. Brown hair, green eyes. Bryan felt related to basically every fucking person in Bentley. The pink ribbon might have vaguely triggered something, but he didn't dwell too much on it as they were shown to the living room and sat down. She gave them a bowl of candy and some tea, but Bryan didn't touch it, and advised the others not to, as well. Some drugged up candy having people go psycho, and Bryan didn't feel like taking one of these others down, since they weren't really targets he wanted blood from.

They were left waiting for a little while and everyone was tense and quiet, and he was pointedly directed by Torvald about being their line of defense, and where he looked at Julius and they shared a nod about it. All of his sense were on edge, and finally, when someone showed up, he almost pulled out the knife to start slicing up.

When it wasn't Patrick, but his wife, Delilah, Bryan was disappointed by far. Jeez, could nothing get done right around here? She was dressed awfully fancy, and it annoyed him somehow; so much so that he kind of wanted to tear off the dress and peel of her skin. If she wasn't happen to see them, they weren't happy to see her ass either. He mentally clicked his tongue.

". . . My husband and I have some . . . preparations to make for the festival. He has gone ahead to Bentley Square . . ." Bryan looked to the others, prepared to leave for the square to confront him in a violent manner that would be a showcase for all the residents to try and waste his goddamned time. And . . . Why did she look kind of happy to see them? His shoulders tensed a little and he narrowed his eyes as she grabbed a piece of candy.

". . . I assume you're here looking for your friends." Cover blown, oh well. At least they were at an understanding. "I don't think my husband will mind . . . I can show you where they are . . ."

When she outwardly offered, Bryan felt like it was a trap, but their friends were the reason the group had come, and it would have been a waste to turn back now. He changed his demeanor, and smiled a seemingly genuine and cheerful smile, "That'd be great if you could. Are you really sure he wouldn't mind?" he replied to her, standing up, and tuning his senses around him even more. There was something shitty going on around here, and Bryan didn't want to be caught off guard. He looked at the rest of the group, still smiling his unnervingly cheerful smile, "What do you guys think?" And then he returned his attention to Delilah, waiting.

If things didn't go as planned, well . . . He did have a lot of pent up anxiety and bloodlust.

 

Delilah slides the piece of candy into her mouth, clearly savouring the taste, and stares at Bryan with deep interest. When he finishes speaking, she stands up and motions for the maid [ who stands in one of the doorways ] from earlier to come to her aid. The girl shuffles over to her obediently. ❝Seeing as how I've places to be, my servant here will guide you.❞ The maid looks up quickly, staring at Delilah with a quiet, pleading look. The empty tray she holds in her arms begins to tremble and her face visibly pales. Delilah either fails to notice or doesn't care. She hands the girl an authorization card and leaves the living room without another word to you. The maid crosses over to the coffee table with a mumbled apology. She takes a piece of candy for herself and pops it into her mouth before standing in the center of the arch that separates the living room from the entrance of the house. ❝Keep close,❞ she murmurs. Her voice is soft but clearly high strung. The girl waits for all of you to gather before taking a step through the archway. You are lead passed the front door and through what seems to be an exquisite dining area. The table is set with a variety of kitchen plates, glasses, forks, spoons and knives. As you walk through, she begins to hum. It's a song from The Girl in Watercolors and should be familiar to you. You are lead outside and into what appears to be an incredibly large and diverse garden. The assortment of flowers, plants and shrubs is cut off from the outside world by a tall, silver fence. She continues to hum, clearly nervous, as she walks you passed the second of four fountains on the residence and down a gentle slope of brick. Out in front of you, you can clearly see the entrance to a lush hedge maze. As you're lead through the maze, the girl's humming becomes louder and louder as if she's trying to combat some kind of rising anxiety. She knows exactly where to go, turning passed dead ends and enticingly parted hedges and vines until you reach the center. A large marble dome stands, caged off to you. The girl clumsily reaches out to slide the authorization card through some kind of control panel. It beeps twice and prompts aloud for a password. She messes up twice, but the third time is a success [ she seems extremely relieved that this is the case ]. The gate surrounding the dome begins to part open around the structure and moments later a second gate springs open, allowing you all to step into a shabby looking elevator lift. The maid takes a deep, steadying breath and pulls down on a rusty lever, sending the elevator plummeting down into darkness.

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