"Watch it burn, watch your life crumble, right before your eyes."

A co-op with Teddy Bear SuperPunk.

A co-op with Teddy Bear

 

 

[align=right]S t o r y

 

Your life is quite perfect. You're living what they say is the dream. It's no big deal when you're invited to a party by a mysterious letter to an abandoned mansion on the edge of town. It's just one of your rich friends adding a little pizzaz to the party.

 

You've heard the place is haunted but, really, who would believe such a silly notion? When the doors slam behind you, it's no big deal, until you notice the message on the wall. [/align]

 

Stay and play a little game. Live or die, well, that's your choice.

 

 

R u l e s

 

1* Have you ever heard of spelling and grammar? If not, GTFO.

2* You can't control more than two characters. Sorry~ >;

3* Don't be rude to your fellow RP'ers. You can be nice if you want to, sweetie.

4* If you read these rules, put your shampoo at the bottom of your post.

5* No Godmodding. You're trapped, a normal human, and have no clue what's going on.

6* Remember when I said "normal human"? That implies you've got NO. POWERS.

7* Give a decent post, sweetheart. At LEAST a decent five sentences.

8* Have fun~ 8D

 

** In this RP, we'd like if in your post, everyone had their own specific color. We'll list them below, so you know what's taken. **

 

butterflylexi: Orange

SuperPunk: Blue

Lord VanVan: Dark red

TwistedFlairRush: Green

Rosie: Purple

Lady Koko: Dark blue

The creamy white letter had brought such a smile to Julianna's face. A party. A glorious one at that. One thrown by one of the richer of the city, not some drunken bloke.

 

The letter itself was elegant. The red seal that Julianna had some trouble to break and the text on the invitation. Yes, Julianna was excited.

 

Not that she hadn't been to a party before. Of course she had. She wasn't an outcast. But those parties were the sort where the guys got drunk out of their minds and the girls wore teeny tiny mini skirts that showed everything and disgusted Julianna. But she went, and still had a good time, although she would wear regular clothes, things she bought from her city.

 

No, but now she could wear something nice. Not completely elegant, but nice. It was going to be at an abandoned mansion after all, and even though the invitation showed a little more regalness than those simple text messages saying "hEy, pArtY at EmIly'S HoUse, @ 7" or whatever, but that didn't mean she was going to bust out a nice gown or anything. Sure, back home that would've been acceptable, but not here where most girls thought less was more.

 

But she was going to look nice. A pretty deep red blouse that belonged to her mother and a nice black skirt, short enough to keep it interesting but long enough to cover everything. Along with that, she was wearing her diamond earings (fake though) and her favorite necklace, also having belonged to her mother.

 

Julianna thought she looked pretty. Not too dressed up, but nice. She hadn't dressed like this except for church, and what fun was that. She wanted to show off a little bit. Just a bit.

 

The party wasn't until later, but she wanted to get ready before hand, so she wouldn't be rushing. Makeup and hair were done already and she just sat on her bed. Her clutch purse sat on her dresser, anything she needed already inside.

 

Yes, this was going to be a good night, and that made Julianna happy. It'd been a long time since she looked forward to something.

 

Yes, a very long time.

Demi Chevalier was checking her mail as usual. Her butler, Max, had brought it to her. She had butlers and maids as her only company, due to the fact that her brother ran off to who knows where. She gave a small thank you and dismissed him. Demi sat on the couch in her large room upstairs and tore the envelope open.

 

"We wish you to attend..."

 

After reading the letter, she ran straight up to her closet. No one was going to show her up. Was this formal? Eh. She was a Chevalier. One of the most rich and famous families in the world. She could dress however she wanted. With that in mind, she started to rummage everywhere.

 

She picked out a black shirt with a grungy design, white skinny jeans, a checkered belt and wristband, and black boots. Yeah. This seemed okay.

Why he was invited to some party was beyond him. Alvar held the note loosely, looking it over as if it were some bomb. Just from the way it was sealed with one of those Victorian era wax seal, he knew it wasn't the 'parties' he was normally invited to. Of course, those parties were just gatherings of people he was hired to 'take care of'. That's just what Alvar was: a hitman. After fleeing France when he nearly beat his sister to death, he came to America. He couldn't maintain a normal job, too many people, too much temptation. The man was no idiot, he couldn't play in broad daylight. So he became a hired killer. It was illegal, but he didn't care.

 

Alvar also maintained a low profile. Upon arrival to America, he went under a false last name. Instead of the wealthy name of Chevalier, he referred to himself as Rousseau. It was quite a change, not having the pampered life style he had back in France. He quickly adjusted once he got into the beat of being constantly on the move because of his job.

 

Clothing wasn't much of a hassle. Alvar stuck to what he normally wore: black slacks, a white button up shirt, black vest, matching blazer, and a red tie. It made him look professional, like he was a lawyer or some important executive. Dressing in such a fashion kept from people questioning him. On the inside pocket of his blazer, Alvar kept his father's old pistol, in one of the pockets of his slacks, he kept a switchblade knife. Those tools were always kept with him, in case he found someone to play with. If this were one of his assignments, he'd carry more, but he highly doubted a target would be attending this party.

 

Alvar straightened himself out. Dusted off his clothing, made sure the pistol was on safety, and both weapons were well hidden. Despite the giddiness he felt inside from the thought of playing, he kept his eyes in a dull expression. When he was happy, his eyes were said to reveal everything. The dark auburn color was said to look almost like blood, and his smile made him look like a wolf in sheep's clothing. It was best to try and blend in as much as possible --well, as much as a French maniac could.

 

As he left the old, crusting apartment building, there was a thought itching in Alvar's mind. A few years back, there had been a news article about the rich Chevalier daughter had moved to America. He growled when he saw it, teeth clenching as he drew blood from his lower lip. Yes, the night from years ago was still fresh in his memory. When he left his little sister, he thought she died. Obviously, the hospital was able to revive her. But she appeared to have no recollection of that night, as there were no search parties for him. There was a chance, a small change, that he would bump into her at the party.

 

If that was the case, Alvar mused, then he would do his best to stay away from her. But if fate had them meet once again, he wouldn't tell her what happened that night, or why he left. He would lie, he would use her. After all, that's who he was: he was no perfect older brother, he lived to survive, and he played to torture. The man smirked, shoving his hands into his pocket. One of the handles fiddled with the handle of the sheathed switchblade. There was a feeling, like an itch he couldn't --but wanted-- to scratch, that it was going to be quite an entertaining party.

A smile lit up Saffron Gates' often cold face. Staring back at the reflection in her gilt-framed mirror was her favorite hobby. Nothing could bother her when she was living proof of how perfect perfection could be.

 

"Excuse me, Miss Gates?" One of the maids--Flora--knocked gently on the door. "There is a letter for you, here. It's addressed anonymously."

 

With a final smirk at her reflection, she unlocked her room door, letting the maid in. On a shiny silver platter she held one plain letter. A red wax seal held the front shut, with a symbol Saffron wasn't familiar with. It wasn't from one of her high-esteemed friends families..

 

"Dismissed, Flora," She murmered absent-mindedly. Making not sure to damage the beautiful seal in the process, Saffron managed to open the letter. Plopping down on her princess-like canopy bed, she pulled out the letter.

 

It was fancily printed on thick cardstock paper. Clearly an invitation of some sort.

 

To Miss Saffron Gates,

 

We are glad to inform you that you have been invited to an elite ballroom-style party hosted by a friend. Be sure to show up precisely on time to the set location. Thank you, Miss Gates.

 

Below was information about the location, time, ect. The only thing missing was the sender's name. It wasn't really the style of any of her snotty friends/followers, but it was fun to add a twist to things.

 

"An old mansion?" Saffron's nose turned up. "Why would I wear anything beautiful there? Is it some kind of post-Halloween party?" Regardless, she threw open her mahogany wardrobe.

 

"Flora!" She shouted. "Get my limo ready! The white one!"

The clock on the white walls of Julianna's room ticked slowly, minutes going by. The party was in about 45 minutes or so.

 

She waited a little more. She was going to be fashionably late of course. It was just something Julianna had to do. The mansion was about and half hour walk from Julianna's home. And of course she would be walking. Her father didn't want to get her a car yet. He thought they were too dangerous, especially in these streets.

 

"You could get hit by some sloshed idiot!" her father would exclaim. "Plus walking gives you time to gander at things. Enjoy the beauty."

 

So Julianna walked everywhere. And of course, she took her time. She would hate to sweat if she rushed. She'd leave in about 10 minutes or so. Maybe later. She was going to be fashionable late, she reminded herself. She'd wait 20 more minutes and then she'd leave.

 

She laid down on her bed, glancing at the clock every so often, hand on her necklace. For a minute she wondered if her mother would've helped Julianne to get ready for the party. If she would've chosen the same outfit, lent her the blouse and the jewelery.

 

She wished her mother had lived to help Julianna with little stuff like this. It was what mother's did, right? Her life after he mother died wasn't terrible, except for those first few months. But she wondered if it would've been better with her guidance. Thinking about all this, she realized exactly 18 minutes had passed.

 

"Daddy! I'm going now!" Julianna stuck her head into her father's room, her dad surfing something on the internet.

 

"Did you know that mansion you mentioned is haunted?" he suddenly said.

 

"Yeah, some girls mentioned to me before."

 

"Are you going to be alright over there Julianna?" he was more than a little worried.

 

"I don't believe in ghosts Daddy, I'll be fine." Julianna smiled reassuringly. Ghosts? Although her father believed in silly things like that Julianna didn't.

 

"Alright then. Don't you dare bring a boy home, no matter how much you fancy him."

 

Julianna rolled her eyes. "Of course Daddy."

 

And with that she left their small home, purse in hand, heading to the mansion.

 

"Mom, I wish you were here. I know you wouldn't mind boys in the house. Well at least you'd keep Daddy from beating them." She chuckled to herself.

 

Maybe she'd chat up a cute boy just to piss off her father. That would be fun.

Shane was throwing around a tennis ball around his room thinking about what his life was at this point in time. He had wanted to contemplate how he could have been invited to this extravagant party in spite of him having as little friends as possible. That someone had actually wanted him there was not only a new feeling to him but he had this sour feeling in the back of his mind where this would be a horrible night.

 

 

"If I am going to this party I might as well look good for whatever it is that's going to happen tonight."

 

He obviously had this pessimistic view on anything doing with people gathering because he never actually saw any use for it.

 

"What do I actually wear to something like this? The invite said formal attire but how formal should I actually be, casual formal or formal formal?" Shane worried.

 

Shane had wasted hours picking out what he was going to wear that he barely had any time to rest before the party.

 

When he woke up he had gotten ready, left his house and was on his way to the place the party was being held.

 

"Well maybe this may be a good night after all." Shane joked.

 

 

He decided to wear his black long-sleeved Oxford shirt, khaki dress pants, with a red tie.

 

"Well maybe this will be a fun evening" joked Shane.