"La Louisiane"

[SwiftPeter]

Year: 1723
Location: Orleans Territory, New World​

Borgone Manor sits on a plantation bordering wetlands that open into the gulf of Mexico. Although past owners have boasted that it was built by René-Robert Cavelier himself, this is only partially true as he laid the foundation, before selling the land to fund an expidition to China. It has since been completed by various owners of differing tastes and degrees of wealth.

The kitchen was completed by a merchant, the great hall by one of Henry IV's daughters, the tennis court was said to have been a demand made by Henry himself, as a condition upon agreeing to a visit. According to local gossip, the trip was either never undertaken, or done in secret. Local legends differ depending on who you ask, and how much their own family may have been personally involved.

Many claim their families have had some part in building Borgone, and with the number of owners it's had over it's relatively short (for a plantation manor) life of eighty years, it is impossible to tell the tall tales from outright lies as it's crossed many paths.

Presently, it is occupied by a granddaughter of Madame de Montespan. Her family kept far from her "legitimate" cousins in the storied House of Rochechouart and their lavish Parisian Estates, the girl bathing herself in the imported marble tub (said to have been used by the empress herself) would nonetheless claim a direct decadency to the de Bourbon name in the company of those who didn't know better.

Outside, the sky turned the deep purple of a bruise as the last rays of sunlight bled out and evening gave way to true night.

 

[Iscaa]

Name: Desiree (De Bourbon)
Age: 19
Height: 5' 2”
Weight: 115 lbs
Build: slim athletic
Eyes: light green
Hair: Rich deep auburn , half way down her back.

Skin: pale, creamy
Appearance: Has a beautiful face, full red lips, striking with the unusual big green eyes. Likes to wear the latest fashions from Paris. Has a nice trim figure and is not afraid to show it, which gets a lot of looks from men of ages. Exudes a sensuality that is hard to miss.

Bio:
Is the granddaugther of Madam de Montespan. With that kind of heritage she thinks very well of herself. She has been turning her nose up at the men that have pursued her. She feels in her heart that she is destined for greater things then anything the local men can give her. Speaks both French and English fluently.

Interests;
Likes to keep up on all the latest Paris fashions, from ball gowns to horseback riding outfits. Has a whole room devoted to just her ball gowns.
Flirting with men, getting them to fall in love with her and then she likes to walk away. Having never yet found man to keep her interest for very long.
One of her favorite pass times is to throw elaborate balls, having the funds and the servants to do pretty much as she wishes.
Is an excellent horsewoman, with a full complement of the finest horseflesh in the county.

Desiree looked out the window as the sun slipped below the horizon easing herself deeper into her bath. Her favorite lavender scent wafting up around her compelled her to smile and sigh. Incoming clouds darkened the skyline,obliterating the beautiful sunset colors. She brought her glance back to her surroundings. It was a lovely comfortable room that always made her feel content.

When the water finally started to cool she frowned wondering if she should get out now or stay a little longer. (No, I will stay here and enjoy myself, there is nothing pressing at the moment.) Looking over to the side of the room, Desiree nodded her head at her maid Amee, “Bring me some more hot water please I find myself enjoying my bath too much to leave just yet.” She watched as the girl picked up the bucket and left the room.

Once alone Desiree turned her head back towards the window watching the trees sway in the furious wind. She shivered in the cooling water looking towards the door that Amee had existed not two minutes ago.

 

[SwiftPeter]

Outside Borgone manor, the wind howled against the imported windows and caused the house to sway and lean. The first time this happened, Desiree asked if this was one of the typhoons she'd heard about from traders. The servants new better than to laugh, but assured her that no, this was not one of the deadly storms that sometimes swept in from the sea.

Also, they weren't called typhoons in the Americas, but she forgot the word they used. She could only remember it not sounding as elegant.

Inside the manor, the oil lamps seemed to pulse and flicker with the fury of the storm (what "fury" there was, the most common sound was simply the rain against the roof, but that didn't catch her attention like the groan of new wood weathering under the wind and rain) while servants moved about.

Desiree could hear them all over the house, speaking to each other in the patois they used, neither French nor English. She could also sometimes hear their singing out in the servants quarters and enjoyed it, despite the fact that she could never make out the words, and also despite the fact that it would have been considered abominable behavior among servants back home.

Had her mother been there, she would have made them stop, and likely have had her father punish them for speaking their pidgin French. Desiree never mentioned it however, as it made the house feel less empty.

Her last post from France had been over a month ago. In it, her father spoke of the rule of King Louis le bien aimé. He'd been busy with the transition of power between the Regent Phillipe the second, and the House of Bourbon. He devoted pages and pages to their new holdings and titles (promised but not conferred), including some information about her mother and new baby brother.

There was no mention of when they would return.

During her childhood in Burgundy, she would sit on her father's lap and listen to him talk about their family, the power they once held and would again someday. In his letters, he seemed to have regained some of the energy and joie de vivre from those storytelling sessions in his letters.

The water was warm, and the large copper tub was strangely comfortable. So much so that even the wind outside the house seemed farther away. As strong gusts buffetted the sturdy manor, Desiree watched the flame of an oil lamp in it's sconce pulse in and out, brightening and dimming almost like it was breathing.

It was then that the wind sheared against the side of the house, animal in it's savagery. The shutters slammed against the widows like they were trying to get in and the tone of the storm took on the quality of a scream.

Then, every lamp in the bathroom went out.

 

[Iscaa]

As the storm worsened Desiree contemplated getting out of the water, it didn't seem like Amee would be back soon. Suddenly the wind threw all it's might against the house, slamming the shutters and rattling the windows. Now she was frightened, putting her hands on the edge of the tub she stood up letting the water run down her body. Seeing the towels and her lilac robe by the stand where Amee had been waiting she was about to step out of the tub when every lamp in the room went out.

Putting her hands around her chest, she tried not to panic. It was so very dark now, she could barely make out the stand where her robe was. Lifting one leg over the rim of the tub, she placed her foot on the cold tiled floor shivered and lifted her other leg over. She stood dripping and shivering by
the tub.

 

[SwiftPeter]

The Grinner

..in the shadows above the naked, dripping girl a darkness coalesses. Deeper than the darkness that surrounded her, it gathered and gained weight. Hidden among the rain and shadow, darker liquid runs along the wet walls of her inner sanctum. Steam and sweat give the slime density, but it is the fear that allows it to pulse with unearthly life.

Before the Mansion was built, there were deaths in it's making. The scout that was hired to find the spot caught fever and died shortly after his survey arrived in France. Twelve construction workers perished in building its regal steeples and voluminous wine cellar. It is even said that either a child or the bride herself became hopelessly lost in the secret passages of the manse during a wedding party and is entombed there still.

Desiree knew all of these stories of course, never having missed an opportunity to eavesdrop on whispering servants.

above her, the shadow drank deep

 

[Iscaa]

Her shivering was more then just the damp cool air. Desiree could feel a deep sinister cold in the room. An overwhelming urge told her to leave this room. Still shivering she makes her way over to where her robe had been left laying on the stand. Looking up she swore whatever was there, and now she felt there was something in the room with her, it seems to be following her.

As she neared where she thought the stand was, her arms reached forward trying to locate the robe. Moving around Desiree's hands touched something soft.

 

[SwiftPeter]

Above the girl, ancient memories flared to life. Fear, then pain, followed by a growing sense of awareness. It did not know it's name, nor it's own shape, but it remembered the nothing from which it came and feared returning to it.

It spent a long time in it's own sadness.

When the girl took her sharp intake of breath, it remembered "other" and understood that it still lacked form. Starved for "touch", still a half-formed concept, more urge than want, it began to form a body around itself. The process was slow and painful.

The concept of "agony" is understood.

The thing smiles.

 

[Iscaa]

Desiree took a hold of the soft robe bringing it up against her chilled skin. She now felt a presence in the room with her. Shivering she quickly put her arms in the sleeves and wrapped the matching belt around her waist. She thought of trying to find her slippers but dismissed the notion, she really just needed to get out of this room.

She turned to where she thought the door should be, she knew she was starting to panic, stopping for a few seconds and taking a big breath Desiree felt a little calmer. Trying to see the door in the poor light, she put out her hand and moved forward again. Half a dozen step later, her hand touched what she thought was the door. Searching for the handle, Desiree found only a smooth surface, (This must just be a wall, where is that door knob?) Her hands kept searching up and down the wall, but found no crack or knob.

The presence was beginning to get stronger, her heart started to beat faster, panic was welling up inside, Desiree started to scream.

 

[SwiftPeter]

WOMAN!

A flurry of images ran through it's awareness, feeding it with understanding. It arrived at a concept of self and purpose. It understood the meaning behind "touch" and below it squirmed an outlet for it's bottomless need.

It released itself from the ceiling, it pulled itself toward the floor.

It could not fall, but it could stretch its presence from one plane to the next. Centering on the sound of of girl, it rose and fell, waiting for it's many selves to become one again...

Steam seems to come from everywhere in the darkened room. Heat like a wet towel smothers Desiree and places weights on her wrists and legs. The cold marble floor seems to reach up to her, begging her to lie down.

Her hear goes damp and clings to her shoulders as if coated in oil.

In the room, there is only the sound of the steam. It sounds like heavy breathing...

 

[Iscaa]

Desiree stops screaming and listens as she slowly turns around leaning against the wall. She can feel the presence above her, her eyes search but can't see anything through the damp darkness. Her lips tremble as her legs give way and she slides down to the floor. Her lips move in a silent prayer, fingers tracing a cross in front of her chest. Her wet hair clings to her throat and shoulders, in oily strands, she tries to push it off but it sticks to her skin like glue.

Steam surrounds her pushing her down with its heavy weight, until she is on her back. The cold dampness of the marble floor seeps through her robe, her skin is cold and clammy. Desiree's arms and legs are too heavy to move now, even breathing becomes difficult. In her extreme fright, she can only hear the steam sounding like heavy breathing. She closes her eyes and lets out a low agonized moan.

 

[SwiftPeter]

Senses come to life like a spreading fire. The heat of the room, the sound of the girl's labored breathing, the smell of her fear and the taste of her sweat. The creature could feel itself thickening, the cloud of darkness began to coalesce into an oily tangle of thick, black strands.

One of the strands began to grow larger and heavier than the others, it hung and stretched itself toward the girl. Above, within it's roiling black mass, tiny pinpricks of light began to twinkle along its surface.

I can see

 

[Iscaa]

Desiree lays on the floor shivering seeing a black cloud above her forming into thick dark strands. One of them grows larger and moves nearer bearing tiny lights on it's surface.

He heart beats rapidly as she moves her head back and forth whispering, “Please leave me alone!” over and over again.

 

[SwiftPeter]

In the darkness, it can see her so clearly, it is like being against her. The room sweats the dark oil that flows through it. A latticework of black, oily ropes drapes itself across the ceiling like a chandelier and slouches toward the helpless girl.

A tendril stretches toward the sound of her moans and pleading. It is a sweet, yet hateful sound like a stubborn tooth. A pain to be savored until it's final, bloody moment.

It covers her lips. Lightly at first, laying gossamer strands upon the moist, pink flesh of her mouth. It tasted her and allowed itself to be tasted. They languished in each other's sweetness.

As her pleas grow more desperate, the tendril thickens and extends further, parting her lips, glancing it's rigid form against her teeth. Spilling it's sweetness into her...

It could feel her heat, like a furnace deep inside

 

[Iscaa]

Desiree stops moving her head back and forth when she sees the ropes of black thread move down towards her. Everything else is forgotten as her terror fill eyes watch one tendril thicken and stretch towards her face. Her body trembles as she tries to sink into the cold damp floor.

There is no where to go, she feels it touch her lips, lightly at first, the taste of it on her lips, causing her to moan louder. At the same time she strives to keep her lips together, the thought of this thing entering her mouth is too much, she closes her eyes, trying desperately to escape into her mind.

No matter how hard she tries to clamp her mouth shut she feels the tendril continue to thicken and extend parting her lips, slowly sliding into her mouth. Her eyes and mouth fly open in a silent terror stricken scream......

Desiree is no longer cold, her body is sweating with the energy she is using to fight this entity taking over her body.