TheDeathClown
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2007
- Posts
- 119
Domestic Disturbance (Open)
Ernestus Lynch grunted as he lowered himself down to the next step. The ancient steps creaked again, as his lanky, wrinkled frame moved. There was a thump as his peg leg landed beside his dressing slipper. Every damned year his damned knee got worse. Every damned year the stair creaked more. Every damned year...
The front hall of the Black Hollows estate house was dark as sin and empty as Ernestus’ own crypt. Cobwebs and threadworm tapestries decorated the walls. Dusty furniture and rat dropping covered the floor. It had been nigh on twenty years since a visitor had darkened the door. It had been nigh on ten since there was any servant other than old Crinkwell. The old bastard was probably laying abed drunk.
Truth be told, Ernestus wished that he was far away from this rotting mess of a house. He could hobble to town at any time, and hire a handsome cab to take him far away. He could, but he wouldn't...
From the base of the stairs a pale form floated slowly up through the floorboards. A saucy wench with rounded curves and curly hair stared up at Ernestus with a sultry look. Her simple maid's dress, her hair, her arms and face were all the color of sun faded white cotton. She was white, but it was a yellow, sickly white. Her bodice was loosely laced and showed a tantalizing hint of cleavage.
She cocked an eyebrow at him the howled like a banshee. “There ya are again, ya murderous old shit! Why don’t just ya hop the rail an’ join me in 'ell? This rodent infested house must be 'ell, ‘cause I was in 'ell when I was alive and livin' in the dump and when I died, the Lord still stuck me ‘ere! Why didn’t 'e just give me to Lucifer? Least he might keep 'is dressin' gown closed, and chew a bit o' mint after 'is supper!”
Ernestus had been covering his ears from the moment she appeared, but now his hands flew down to close his tattered robe. He might almost consider suicide to escape the harpy, but he feared God was likely to stick him with her, and this damned house, for all eternity.
The ghost pulled at her bodice and her cold charms spilled out. Right above her heart was the mark he knew only too well. A bloodless penny sized hole lead straight to where her hard heart had lived. She held up her first two fingers, with her palm facing in, and then silently floated toward the arched door that lead to the formal dining room.
Shit, he had hoped she was messing with Crinkwell tonight. If he was to damned drunk to notice her, she was sure to harass him. Damn the demonic little witch. If it weren’t for the bleeding treasure...
OCC: I am aware that this is a weird one. I am not even sure if it would lead to a sexual situation. I know it isn't a bleeding romance. It kind of just came out of the black gunk at the bottom of my heart... Heart sludge.
Ernestus Lynch grunted as he lowered himself down to the next step. The ancient steps creaked again, as his lanky, wrinkled frame moved. There was a thump as his peg leg landed beside his dressing slipper. Every damned year his damned knee got worse. Every damned year the stair creaked more. Every damned year...
The front hall of the Black Hollows estate house was dark as sin and empty as Ernestus’ own crypt. Cobwebs and threadworm tapestries decorated the walls. Dusty furniture and rat dropping covered the floor. It had been nigh on twenty years since a visitor had darkened the door. It had been nigh on ten since there was any servant other than old Crinkwell. The old bastard was probably laying abed drunk.
Truth be told, Ernestus wished that he was far away from this rotting mess of a house. He could hobble to town at any time, and hire a handsome cab to take him far away. He could, but he wouldn't...
From the base of the stairs a pale form floated slowly up through the floorboards. A saucy wench with rounded curves and curly hair stared up at Ernestus with a sultry look. Her simple maid's dress, her hair, her arms and face were all the color of sun faded white cotton. She was white, but it was a yellow, sickly white. Her bodice was loosely laced and showed a tantalizing hint of cleavage.
She cocked an eyebrow at him the howled like a banshee. “There ya are again, ya murderous old shit! Why don’t just ya hop the rail an’ join me in 'ell? This rodent infested house must be 'ell, ‘cause I was in 'ell when I was alive and livin' in the dump and when I died, the Lord still stuck me ‘ere! Why didn’t 'e just give me to Lucifer? Least he might keep 'is dressin' gown closed, and chew a bit o' mint after 'is supper!”
Ernestus had been covering his ears from the moment she appeared, but now his hands flew down to close his tattered robe. He might almost consider suicide to escape the harpy, but he feared God was likely to stick him with her, and this damned house, for all eternity.
The ghost pulled at her bodice and her cold charms spilled out. Right above her heart was the mark he knew only too well. A bloodless penny sized hole lead straight to where her hard heart had lived. She held up her first two fingers, with her palm facing in, and then silently floated toward the arched door that lead to the formal dining room.
Shit, he had hoped she was messing with Crinkwell tonight. If he was to damned drunk to notice her, she was sure to harass him. Damn the demonic little witch. If it weren’t for the bleeding treasure...
OCC: I am aware that this is a weird one. I am not even sure if it would lead to a sexual situation. I know it isn't a bleeding romance. It kind of just came out of the black gunk at the bottom of my heart... Heart sludge.
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