(OOC: It is 1899, Moscow, The Russian Empire. Antonin has invited you to a Christmas party that has not been held since near seven years before at the Stahlbaum townhouse. He is an elusive figure and there is some intrigue-there has been little heard from the family since some seven years before the youngest niece, Marie, disappeared. The family had moved out of the city, leaving Antonin behind.
Freeform steampunk/fantastic/mystery story that has a malleable story arch with some key components set by the Mod. Message me if you'd like to join in! Hoping this is the best way to advertise the start of a new RP)
Freeform steampunk/fantastic/mystery story that has a malleable story arch with some key components set by the Mod. Message me if you'd like to join in! Hoping this is the best way to advertise the start of a new RP)
Nothing could quite describe the unusual pleasure that Antonin felt upon hearing the sound a sturdy heeled-boot made on the solid wooden floor. The 'dok-dok-dok' echoed through the ample study as he made his way across the length of the room. The two heavily draped windows ahead of him bled little of the beaming sunlight and the crisp winter air pervaded only as far as the entrance hall two floors down. The once papered walls had allowed their trappings to rot, leaving only the exposed rendering. He drew his hand alongside the right-hand portion of wall, a thin layer of dust coming away in his gloved hand.
As he approached the pair of windows, he smarted from the memory of happier times. He closed his eyes, running images of children playing in the room, both crying out and calling to him when they wanted his attention. A tall boy, with shorts of burgundy exposing his frail legs, stood to attention, a company of brightly painted soldiers of tin trooping their colour beneath him. Antonin could still hear the boy bark his orders, imagining them to come to life at his every word.
The boy's younger sister had sat so many times at the doll's house, enacting parties and intriguing tales in its various rooms and hallways. She had little care for battles and parades and concerned her time with the plans and provisions for the Christmas party the dolls appeared to have every day.
Antonin's smile dropped. He opened his eyes and looked across the bare floor, sparsely a shadow visible with such a muted light from the windows. He could scarcely bring himself to breath aloud, lest it disturbed the joyful memories that at one time were commonplace in the house.
"Yes"
He spoke for the first time, confidently dismissing the ghosts of the room. This room would remain locked for the party. The sound of music and the bountiful smell of Christmas pudding need not pollute the sanctuary his memories found there. He had far too much to do before the guests arrived.
Would they arrive? He thought hard on this. There hadn’t been a Christmas party in the house for seven years.
Since December 1893.
Since Marie Disappeared.
As he approached the pair of windows, he smarted from the memory of happier times. He closed his eyes, running images of children playing in the room, both crying out and calling to him when they wanted his attention. A tall boy, with shorts of burgundy exposing his frail legs, stood to attention, a company of brightly painted soldiers of tin trooping their colour beneath him. Antonin could still hear the boy bark his orders, imagining them to come to life at his every word.
The boy's younger sister had sat so many times at the doll's house, enacting parties and intriguing tales in its various rooms and hallways. She had little care for battles and parades and concerned her time with the plans and provisions for the Christmas party the dolls appeared to have every day.
Antonin's smile dropped. He opened his eyes and looked across the bare floor, sparsely a shadow visible with such a muted light from the windows. He could scarcely bring himself to breath aloud, lest it disturbed the joyful memories that at one time were commonplace in the house.
"Yes"
He spoke for the first time, confidently dismissing the ghosts of the room. This room would remain locked for the party. The sound of music and the bountiful smell of Christmas pudding need not pollute the sanctuary his memories found there. He had far too much to do before the guests arrived.
Would they arrive? He thought hard on this. There hadn’t been a Christmas party in the house for seven years.
Since December 1893.
Since Marie Disappeared.
The crystals of snow, flowed on the wind through the air, like waves in the sea. They would whip against the cart. Sometimes they howled like a wolf othertimes the sounded like chimes. The clip-cloppin against the cold and grey stone road were clear, in the icy december wind. As the cart drove along, one might spot shadows moving through the pine, wolves. Yes wolves, so you don't wanna get lost on your stay here. Frostbite is a deadly killer, but wolves are brutal slayers. A wolf could easily devour a human child if it wanted to.
Now the cold is biting. It will start nibbling at your toes and fingertips, then eat your entire limbs. One would have to be mad enough to be in this freezing landscape for a prolonged amount of time, to make it sound rational. The coachman of the cart is such a person. He is a sturdy man, to be driving the cart in the freezing cold. Though is is also wearing a warm ushanka and a thick coat of brown bear pelt. He probably have some ice mad finnish blood in his veins, that could be a reason. On the other side, rumors go that Russians are some tough dogs.
Smoke rose from a chimney on the roof of the cart. Inside the wagon were a little stove to keep the people riding warm and toasty, wouldn't wanna get frostbite on the way. The "Cargo" isn't as sturdy as the driver is. It's a calm man in a bison coat by the name of Hector Bossuet, reading a book, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He sat nice and cozy on the heated velvet seats, sometimes laying on them, as he were the only one inside the cart. His baggage, a two suitcases, were on the other seat laying there nicely, with a little gift amongst them.
They were nearing the estate of the host. Hector sat up straight and packed the book away in his luggage. They had arrived. Stahlbaum townhouse looked marvellous through the foggy windows of the cart. But enough with the looking and aweing, time shan't be wasted. He took his suitcases, and the driver opened the door for him, allowing the cold wind to slap Hector in the face. He madea little grimace, but moved towards the entrance. KNOCK KNOCK! The bearshaped door knocker sounded. Let's hope someone is home.
Now the cold is biting. It will start nibbling at your toes and fingertips, then eat your entire limbs. One would have to be mad enough to be in this freezing landscape for a prolonged amount of time, to make it sound rational. The coachman of the cart is such a person. He is a sturdy man, to be driving the cart in the freezing cold. Though is is also wearing a warm ushanka and a thick coat of brown bear pelt. He probably have some ice mad finnish blood in his veins, that could be a reason. On the other side, rumors go that Russians are some tough dogs.
Smoke rose from a chimney on the roof of the cart. Inside the wagon were a little stove to keep the people riding warm and toasty, wouldn't wanna get frostbite on the way. The "Cargo" isn't as sturdy as the driver is. It's a calm man in a bison coat by the name of Hector Bossuet, reading a book, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He sat nice and cozy on the heated velvet seats, sometimes laying on them, as he were the only one inside the cart. His baggage, a two suitcases, were on the other seat laying there nicely, with a little gift amongst them.
They were nearing the estate of the host. Hector sat up straight and packed the book away in his luggage. They had arrived. Stahlbaum townhouse looked marvellous through the foggy windows of the cart. But enough with the looking and aweing, time shan't be wasted. He took his suitcases, and the driver opened the door for him, allowing the cold wind to slap Hector in the face. He madea little grimace, but moved towards the entrance. KNOCK KNOCK! The bearshaped door knocker sounded. Let's hope someone is home.
Ivy had spent most of the day ordering her servants about to do their jobs. The smell of fresh Cinnamon raisin bread filled the air as the servants prepared differant baked treats to bring and share at the party. Their lady Ivy was in her room preparing for a night of fun and laughter, and hopefully that was it.
She had slipped into a nice dark blue and gold ball gown. Her hair was braided beautifully with flowers adorning her dark locks. Her makeup was also well done, her lipstick being a plump and deep red color.
She gazed at herself in the mirror and turned around in aa circle once to get a nice full view. She felt beautiful, and alot of men would definitely agree that she was.
She had finally finished getting ready and the carriage was loaded up with a couple of her servants and all the baked goods. She took a deep breathe as she slipped on her black cloak and gloves and made her way out to the waiting buggy.
They arrived at at the party not too much later. The driver helped Miss Ivy down from the carriage and she slowly made her way inside, her servants following her close behind.
((I Hope its okay to join??))
She had slipped into a nice dark blue and gold ball gown. Her hair was braided beautifully with flowers adorning her dark locks. Her makeup was also well done, her lipstick being a plump and deep red color.
She gazed at herself in the mirror and turned around in aa circle once to get a nice full view. She felt beautiful, and alot of men would definitely agree that she was.
She had finally finished getting ready and the carriage was loaded up with a couple of her servants and all the baked goods. She took a deep breathe as she slipped on her black cloak and gloves and made her way out to the waiting buggy.
They arrived at at the party not too much later. The driver helped Miss Ivy down from the carriage and she slowly made her way inside, her servants following her close behind.
((I Hope its okay to join??))
(Can I join?)
Join away!
Seraphina takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to tug the elaborate braids from her hair. Her brown eyes are narrowed and focused on the mirror. Of all the people, why was her family invited? She makes a vow with herself. If she got through the night without complaining out loud, she'd treat herself to a glass of wine, a treat she'd been denying herself of lately.
Her eyes skim the length of the insufferable green dress her mother had forced her into, the neckline plunging far lower than she was comfortable with. It was a modest dress, by the day's standards, just not one she would have worn on an ordinary night. Her lips twist as she withholds her negative comment. She sucks in a breath as her mother tugs on the ties, making breathing nearly impossible.
The dinner itself wasn't what had aggravated Seraphina. It was the fact that her parents had decided to go and take her along, regardless of her plans. She'd been planning to hang out with her friends, it was her birthday, dammit. She should not be going to a dinner she didn't want to go to.
Her mother, a woman with beautiful features, but a proud and haughty mannerism, motions for her to take a seat. "Come on. Sit down so the maids can do your make up."
"No." Seraphina's voice is soft, but it makes the room quiet. Her mother looks at her in shock.
"What did you just say?" She asks, her tone sharp.
"I said no. If I'm going to this dinner, I refuse to put on make up. Why hide what I look like when there won't be anyone I know going? It's not like I'll ever see them again after this." Seraphina answers, her voice still soft, not wanting to get into an argument with her mother. Not now. Not tonight.
A knock breaks the glare her mother had focused on her and both women face the door as a maid peeks in. "The carriage has arrived." She says, her eyes on the floor. Seraphina gives a small smile as her mother sweeps from the room, Seraphina following soon after.
The ride is full of tense silence and when they arrive, Seraphina's eyes widen. So this was why she'd had to dress up. Because it wasn't some ordinary get together. This was important.
She steps from the carriage with the help of the driver and allows her gaze to sweep the place. "Here goes nothing." She breathes out, heading toward the building.
Her eyes skim the length of the insufferable green dress her mother had forced her into, the neckline plunging far lower than she was comfortable with. It was a modest dress, by the day's standards, just not one she would have worn on an ordinary night. Her lips twist as she withholds her negative comment. She sucks in a breath as her mother tugs on the ties, making breathing nearly impossible.
The dinner itself wasn't what had aggravated Seraphina. It was the fact that her parents had decided to go and take her along, regardless of her plans. She'd been planning to hang out with her friends, it was her birthday, dammit. She should not be going to a dinner she didn't want to go to.
Her mother, a woman with beautiful features, but a proud and haughty mannerism, motions for her to take a seat. "Come on. Sit down so the maids can do your make up."
"No." Seraphina's voice is soft, but it makes the room quiet. Her mother looks at her in shock.
"What did you just say?" She asks, her tone sharp.
"I said no. If I'm going to this dinner, I refuse to put on make up. Why hide what I look like when there won't be anyone I know going? It's not like I'll ever see them again after this." Seraphina answers, her voice still soft, not wanting to get into an argument with her mother. Not now. Not tonight.
A knock breaks the glare her mother had focused on her and both women face the door as a maid peeks in. "The carriage has arrived." She says, her eyes on the floor. Seraphina gives a small smile as her mother sweeps from the room, Seraphina following soon after.
The ride is full of tense silence and when they arrive, Seraphina's eyes widen. So this was why she'd had to dress up. Because it wasn't some ordinary get together. This was important.
She steps from the carriage with the help of the driver and allows her gaze to sweep the place. "Here goes nothing." She breathes out, heading toward the building.
(Sorry it's so long.)
Entering the little used kitchen, Antonin watched as a pageant of goods, foods and bottles of wine emerged out of various containers, brought in through the hatch doorway at the back of the large space. The kitchen maids scurried back and forth, headed by the waspish cook. Antonin approached, avoiding a team of porters bringing in another scuttle of coal and wood for the various fireplaces that would be burning brightly within the manse.
"Irina, are you confident this will suffice?"
Irina stared back with intent.
"Sir, we will do our best. We've called in all the staff from across the city."
Antonin shuffled and smiled a little, moving his hand through his grey hair. He moved out of the kitchen, brushing a little dust from his dress coat. The guests would no doubt be arriving soon into the central parlor.
He glanced at the 7ft pine tree, richly decorated with lit candles and all sorts of potpourri. He smiled again to himself.
His chamber maid Matrona appeared in the doorway.
"A Mme Ivy has arrived, sir."
He turned away from the tree. This was it.
"Bring her in!"
"Irina, are you confident this will suffice?"
Irina stared back with intent.
"Sir, we will do our best. We've called in all the staff from across the city."
Antonin shuffled and smiled a little, moving his hand through his grey hair. He moved out of the kitchen, brushing a little dust from his dress coat. The guests would no doubt be arriving soon into the central parlor.
He glanced at the 7ft pine tree, richly decorated with lit candles and all sorts of potpourri. He smiled again to himself.
His chamber maid Matrona appeared in the doorway.
"A Mme Ivy has arrived, sir."
He turned away from the tree. This was it.
"Bring her in!"
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