The manor was large. Almost too large for one person to live there alone. But Marlena didn't mind. Awed by it's size and the rooms to explore, she was eternally grateful to Grayell for allowing her to have it, even with it's less than stellar history of past owners. Her own home. Somewhere to start again. Even if the Tryst would keep her in somewhat questionable company.
Surrounded by high walls, it is almost set back and almost hidden by the trees, but the large gates to enter the gardens and reach the house are now kept open where before, the owner rarely opened them. This would be her sanctuary and the restrictions of locked gates were not part of that image.
The furnishings and decoration, however, were. The man before her had money, plenty of it, and it seemed as if he spent it all on his home. Plush seating, fancy rugs that had been brought into Wistvale on one of the many merchant ships.
She could get used to this.
Last Edit: Jun 11, 2012 17:42:09 GMT -5 by Marlena
Marlena walked through the hallways, an arm outstretched and fingertips brushing over the wall as she past. She could feel every bump and impression in the wallpaper that had been used to decorate the manor. Closing her eyes as she reached the end and stopping at the window that faced the east, there was no warmth from the sun yet, she couldn't feel it on her face, and the hallway was still cool from the night. The sun hadn't yet broken over the treeline.
Opening her eyes, Marlena gripped the wooden frame of the window and pushed it upwards. Leaning out, she looked to the left with a smile. Kiga wasn't the only one that could make to the roof, though the trellis would be needed. To hell with the dress she wore. Her hands found the wooden frame, avoiding the vines, and she pulled herself through the window. A soft noise came from her with the energy she used to begin the climb upwards, gaining momentum to reach the roof.
The sky was a watercolor of pinks, purples and powder blues, balls of white wool formed the clouds overhead as the young woman got her footing on the tiles. Barely managing to keep her balance, she made it quickly to one of the chimneys, turning, she faced south and sat down. Once comfortable, she smoothed the deep purple skirt of her dress, a few threads pulled here and there, a slight tear near the hem, another at her right thigh. Marlena pushed those thoughts from her mind, the dress could be easily replaced.
From her perch, she could just make out the docks in the distance, masts of silhouetted ships and those on the barely visible horizon. The ocean seemed to sparkle with the dawn's light and she wondered if one day she'd go out on one of those ships. She had found a home in Wistvale, but she had wanted to see the world, that's why she left in the first place.
(I'm going to do this here, poppet. It just seemed appropriate.)
The rain fell down thick and cold. It beat a rhythmic pattern against the glass windows with unceasing precision. So much so that seeing out of them was impossible. It contributed to Marlena's feeling of claustrophobia, too. Which was silly, the house was big enough for twenty people. Still, she felt trapped and unable to escape the confines of the manor. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue. The manor was beautifully decorated and there were plenty of places she had not explored fully.
But, the minute the rain forced her inside she had become grumpy and irritable. Marlena started to pace. First it was from the foyer to the living room. Then it was from the living room to the dining room. Then the dining room to the kitchen. The kitchen back to the foyer and the circuit started all over again. The empty rooms echoed the sounds of her footsteps back to her. Those steps only became louder and that noise irritated her, too.
It was her forth or fifth trip around and when her path was from the living room to the dining room that she heard a wooden squeak. That had not happened during the other paths. Had she been unconsciously walking closer and closer to the table instead of taking the same path each time? Marlena stopped then stepped backward over the squeaky spot. The sound was repeated. The flooring beneath the thick woolen rugs decorating this room was made of wood.
A loose board perhaps.
Marlena shoved the heavy rug out of the way. Sure enough there was a board raised a bit higher than the others beside it. And it was small, maybe one tenth the size of the rest. She might never have found it without the constant pacing back and forth. Beneath the block, you really couldn't call it a board, was a small switch.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Marlena's brow furrowed and her head tilted slightly as she stared at the switch. Such an odd thing to be hidden in such a manner. Unless, of course, there was something that must be hidden. Her earlier irritation and annoyance at being forced within the confines of the house vanished as quickly as it set in. Curiosity had always been her weakness. Too many times had she almost been caught by those she stole from because she had to look at something that caught her eye.
But there was no danger of that now, and surely she should know everything about her own home. Marlena reached for the switch, her head turning this way and that, her mind running with the possibilities of what could happen. Was the former owner paranoid enough to set traps about his home should someone discover this switch? What could he hide that holds enough importance as to deserve traps as protection? Was he hiding anything at all? Would it actually be anything so special? Was it a secret doorway or tunnel?
Her fingers touched the switch and all thoughts fled her mind as she flipped it. A breath caught and held whilst she left it in the gods' hands as to whether she had finally been bettered by her curiosity.
There was an audible click and the huge painting on the opposite wall beside the hearth shifted, then turned right at the center. The painting now revealed a dark recess on either side and it stayed open. It might be nothing but a secret compartment behind the painting. Marlena couldn't be sure. She would have to investigate further, that or flip the switch the other way and close it.
But, really, why would you close such an interesting thing? Especially when there was nothing else to do on this dreary day? Maybe there was hidden treasure in the wall. The previous owner of this manor had been a deplorable, not to mention immoral sort. Who knew what he could be hiding. And it did not have to stop at him. This was a very old building with the possibility of several owners.
Head turning with the sound of movement behind her, the breath she held released in a slow exhale of temporary relief. A secret door wasn't so bad but Marlena kept her guard up. For all she knew, there could be something rather unsavory through that door. Her right hand left the switch and her fingers traced the hilt of the kopii on her right hip, a gesture meant to comfort and steady nerves. It must have been her earlier frustration, or the fact she was alone in the manor, but she was more on edge than usual.
Standing slowly, turning as she did, she first craned her neck, hoping to catch sight of anything that may lie beyond the painting, but upon seeing nothing but dark shadows, she allowed curiosity to drive her forward. Her feet fell almost silently upon the vanished wood floor as she moved across the room and her fingers closed around the kopii, keeping a fair distance until she had a view of the recess. It wasn't until she looked into the darkness that she realized just how long that door would have been closed. Since she took up residence here at least. There couldn't be anyone down there. The would have starved or dehydrated. That thought calmed her some.
No one greeted her, of course. But, it was not because any such person or persons would have starved, dehydrated or worse. Behind the painting, stretching down into the darkness was a long, iron staircase with no end in sight. And that presented several new questions.
Where did it go? How far down did it extend? Was it even intact? That last one was rather worrisome if you thought about it for very long, too. She could walk straight down into the depths of who knows what only to come up short when the staircase ended. There were plenty of other questions to consider, but the main one was this: Why did the staircase start here; behind the painting?
A secret set of stairs in a dining room presumably used to entertain in? Surely that would cause no end of problems. What if a guest to the manor stepped on the switch as she had a few minutes ago? Maybe it wasn't secret at all. Could it be a quick escape tunnel in case the authorities got wind of previous owner's activities? If so why wouldn't he have used it?
There was no dust on the painting but that fact was of little help. They could clean it easily without discovering the switch. But, there was plenty of dust on the stairs. Dust thick enough that Marlena could see it even in the gloom. There was one other thing she noticed while standing there in front of the opening. A set of footprints in the dust.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Marlena stared into the darkness for more than a few moments, and it reminded her of the church she'd recently visited, of Brother Ansel and those oppressive shadows. She was rather a pathetic thief really, considering she disliked the dark. She was supposed to enjoy the dark, treat it as a friend and accept any help from it to achieve her goal. Instead, she avoided it, even though she could do it well, she side-stepped the cloak and dagger line of work and stuck to simple cons. The dark, to her, was an enemy that brought memories of bastard older brothers and trying to survive in rather, unsafe towns.
She looked around the room, a candle was what she needed and she unconsciously crossed fingers, praying to the gods for a source of light. A small candle on a side table answered her, the glow would not be much, but to ease her nerves and allow her to hold it steady, it would be enough. Moving swiftly, Marlena's left hand wrapped around the brass candle holder and she brought it before her, her grip on her kopii with the right hand tightened and she steeled herself to take a journey down those steps. Another deep breath and her feet moved as if of their own accord, the candle burning just bright enough for her to watch her footing as she began to descend. Her curiosity would kill her one day.
The candle was just enough light to see by. A small halo of reddish orange light that threw Marlena's shadow on the brick walls as she descended. Shadows. They are sometimes highly frightening things. The shadows gave false life to the bricks building an illusion of the wall falling with her. It was very disorienting.
Shadows thrive on disorientation. They are neither light or dark but that slippery ground in between. And when you turn your head? Well, sometimes they are just utterly gone. Marlena's shadow followed her down the steps and swarmed over the walls. The cracks, holes, and the several missing bricks as she went were swallowed up and thrown into the dark. The candle could not hope defeat them all. In fact, the very act of picking up that candle; of adding light to the darkness, assured twice as many of them.
At least she could see the stairs. When she had gone down thirty or forty steps, she was not completely sure of the number, the air changed. Instead of the oppressive humidity that made the manor hot and uncomfortable this air was cool and damp.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Marlena's hand stayed firmly wrapped around her weapon as she took each step, torn between looking to the next or keeping an eye out for whatever may be watching her in the shadows. Each shadow darker and closer than the one before, as if they were overwhelming her little candle, the flickering light no match for them and ready to surrender to it's fate far too soon for Marlena's liking.
The walls closed in on her and she felt trapped. Risking a glimpse over her shoulder she realized just how far she had come, she couldn't even see light from her living room. Too late to turn back and shut the secret door behind her. She would always know it was there and brand herself a coward. She had to see what was at the bottom of the stairs now, be it good or bad.
As the air changed, she began to move that little bit faster. A possible sign that she had reached the end, maybe? The possibility lifted her spirits a little and the shadows seemed to recede from both around her body and her mind. She would discover what was hidden and be able to return shortly. She would be so pleased to see that stuffy manor, it's uptight furnishings and over worked decoration. If only she could see better in this darkness and not have to continue further.
The last step came to her and passed, her feet falling silently to whatever had been created beneath the manor, for all the light from the candle, she could barely see two feet into the inky black. She stopped, her eyes straining to see further, the candle moved back ad forth before her, trying her best to figure out what level of hell she had fallen to that would remove all hope of visibility.
She had not fallen into Hell, or any level of it. Such things exist on another plane of being. No matter how far one might dig beneath the surface of the world Hell cannot be found. Marlena was not an evil person, either. She might have done some bad things in her life. She might have even committed any number of what the devout would consider a sin. But, you and I know that such things are always mutable and even the truly guilty always have hope of salvation.
A great philosopher once told me that death is for many of us the gate of hell; but we are inside on the way out, not outside on the way in. If so, then Heaven or Hell are purely visited only in our minds. In that respect only; perhaps Marlena had fallen into Hell.
She could see no better than she had just seconds ago. Her feet were on solid ground, that was true, but the only way out appeared to be back up the stairs. If there was a light it came only from the dozens of reflections her candle splashed upon the floor. She was utterly alone with only her thoughts for company.
Do you know why people fear the dark?
Back when the world was new people were in the minority. They were meat for the creatures who had sharp teeth and claws. Those people huddled together. They learned there was safety in numbers and cooperation. They found fire and light which would keep them safe, comfortable and secure. People evolved into the top of the food chain because of this competency with tools. But, in doing so something was lost. They began to rely on their eyesight exclusively. They became complacent. The instincts they had to protect them in light-less hours were shunted aside.
And where there is the potential for food there are always predators. From a predator's point of view the darkness offers something unavailable otherwise; fear of the unseen, the hidden, and the shadows. That my friends is why people are often terrified of the dark. We have forgotten how to use any sense beyond our eyes.
The chill of the area took hold. A breeze quick and sharp blew up and Marlena's candle went out.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
The light disappeared and with it, the last of Marlena's courage. It was no longer just shadows to fight, but total and overwhelming darkness. Within the pitch black, she was nine years old again and trapped in a cupboard, her older brother outside the door, laughing as he walked away, leaving nothing but the silence. She dropped the now useless candle as her chest began to tighten, constricting, as if someone or something were sat upon it.
Marlena fell to her knees, searching for some hidden ability to regain herself, her eyes, though adjusted to the darkness, saw nothing that would help her. In any other situation where sight could not help, she would have relied on her other senses, but all she could smell was earth, and damp. All she could feel was the floor beneath her, cold and hard, but covered in what could be dirt and moss. And all she could hear, was her own heartbeat pounding a frantic tattoo, and the heavy breathing of a terrified girl.
And a terrified girl she was. So incapacitated by her fear, that she did not even think to look for the way out. To turn around and find the staircase. Disorientated and feeling defeated, she accepted she was lost down here. It did not sit well with her, but what else could she do? She was suddenly ashamed of herself. The child she was had not even given up so soon. The young Marlena had battled against the door for what seemed like hours before she had cried herself to sleep.
Marlena stood slowly, a deep breath steadying her as she forced herself forward. She trebled with fear, but fought it with every movement, her left hand held out before her, wondering if she could find the other side of this pit.
There was another side to the pit. It was not a formless void only extremely dark. It was also exceedingly damp. However, there was no clean splash that came when you stepped into a puddle. No, only the stickiness of mud clinging to her until it could stretch no further. Marlena's shoes made loud squelching sounds during the walk forward. Those sounds did not conjure up good feelings, either.
But. She had found the opposite side. The wall directly across from the bottom of the stairs was right in front of her. She had only to walk four feet until her hand found stone. This stone was nothing structured like the wall surrounding the staircase had been. No, it was solid rock. Though, from what she could feel when spreading out her hands it might have been carved smooth.
If she had been a miner, or a geology scholar she might have been able to recognize the utter lack of broken edges that would come from such carving. Whoever had carved the walls around the staircase had done so with a much more powerful tool.
She could follow the wall easily enough, though. There was only one way to go, unless she wanted to try ascending the dark staircase instead. But, where was she? The staircase spun her toward the ground in a spiral, that was true. But, the spiral had been narrow, tight, and almost straight down. She had to be beneath the house. Which way was she facing?
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Marlena was at a loss. Everything within her told her to turn and go back the way she came. But it this darkness, she couldn't tell left from right. The pitch black rendered sight useless and she could only feel her way through the darkness. Every sound seemed to echo around her, as if this place was a huge cavern. Though it may have only been her imagination. The sound of her footsteps in the mud, each breath she took, it all became far to loud within the silence.
Her fingers brushed the wall beside her as she turned to her right and began to walk. It became her guide. She would follow it and if this was simply a large and empty room, she would find the stairs eventually. Running around aimlessly without vision would be foolish. But no more foolish than coming down here in the first place, she thought.
But even with the fear that lurked in her mind, that dark cloud of uncertainty hanging over her, she still had not learnt to reign in her curiosity. What was this place? Why was it here? There seemed to be nothing at all within this hole. Why would someone take the trouble to create it for nothing? She wished to know, but prayed to find the staircase to take her from this pit. Maybe if she was better prepared, a lantern, torch maybe, someone to accompany her... She could return to investigate.
Marlena's fingers brushed against the damp surface of the wall and her first few steps were taken. The wall was cold, wet and like the floor carried an innate oiliness that left a sticky residue on her fingers. Rubbing it off did not help, she had to touch the wall again to orient herself. There was a odor, too; faint but pungent. The whole area next to the wall smelled like rotten eggs.
The staircase had been swallowed by the darkness though, and the wall, as bad as it smelled, was her best hope of navigation. More steps were taken as Marlena realized she was still moving downward. It was a slow decline, probably not even visible with a light. But, she was concentrating on her feet. She was definitely going down. The smell had not abated either. But, there were pockets of cleaner air the longer she walked.
She had not found the staircase. She was not circling a large room or cubby hole that it had dropped in to. She was moving down a straight shaft or tunnel. Not that she had tried to find the other side of it. Still, she had seen a gleam of something several times during the slow walk. Paler stone perhaps or a possible shaft of light streaking down from above and catching the wet surface.
And maybe that was even worse than complete darkness. Because each little gleam she caught on the wall appeared to be following her.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”