nitro_is_ace: (No seriously - you're kidding right?)
[personal profile] nitro_is_ace
Ace, who had been enjoying a very nice dream involving Spoon in a cowboy outfit, nearly jumps clean out of her skin as the bloodcurdling screams rent the air.

Give her a minute. She's never been a morning person. Or, in this case, a dead-of-the-night-ungoldly-AM person.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon does jump out of bed, diving for the floor and feeling around for a sword that isn't there because this isn't their bedroom.

Then he drags trousers on and goes charging toward the screaming.


Date: 2008-09-24 01:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Spoon!" Shit. Ace scrambles for adequate clothing and follows, not really caring that her shirt is on inside-out and backwards. Doesn't he know following anonymous screams leads to being separated and attacks by the nasty du jour? Honestly.

The screaming, becoming frantic and honestly a little gurgle-y, seems to be coming from the sitting room Spoon and Ace met their odd hosts in just a couple hours ago. From the stairwell leading to the other wing of the mansion, Marchley leads the charge, thundering down the stairs and making enough noise to make an elephant proud.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
She's got very, very little chance of him ever not going toward screaming. It's what he does, really.

He quite efficiently body-chucks Marchley out of his way in order to slam open the door of the sitting room first, brandishing the small table he picked up somewhere threateningly.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

There's nothing.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticks away to itself quietly, the potted plants on the windowsill look just as limp and dejected as ever, and everything still looks very clean and precise and...

Absolutely normal.

No blood, no trauma, no... one to scream.

Marchley is giving Spoon a death glare as Ace makes it down the last few stairs in hot pursuit of her nutty husband.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon is wearing trousers and nothing else. That exposes a lot of scars.

He ignores Marchley while going over every inch of the room with eyes and nose, searching for whatever just happened and muttering dark things about conspiracy.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Nope, nothing here. Just an utterly boring sitting room that smells much like the rest of the house.

Marchley is still giving Spoon a death glare, even with the scars. He's got a fair number of his own, along with being very confident in his own masculinity.

By the time, the rest of the party has made its way down the stairs, and they don't appear to be short anyone. Curiouser and curiouser.

Date: 2008-09-24 01:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon makes a grumpy noise and says, "What was all that shrieking, then? Everyone is here."

Date: 2008-09-24 02:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I came down because I heard footsteps in the hall." Dora explains, looking rather owlish and ruffled.
"I came down because I heard Miss McChesterson's door open." The florid man in a terribly unfortunate red dressing gown pipes up.
"I was following Marchley, his room is just next to mine." The older woman explains, looking as perfect and pressed as ever.
"I came down because the two of you were thundering down the stairs at all hours like a pair of hooligans!" Marchley growls, disgusted.

The thing is, none of them smell like they're lying.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon looks very confused all of the sudden, and that isn't lying either. "We heard screaming."

Date: 2008-09-24 02:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"You see, Harriet? Said they were loonies." Marchley huffs into his mustache, and stomps off, presumeably to go back to bed. One by one, the rest of the party follows, with Dora taking up the rear, giving Spoon and Ace one last, puzzled look.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon is looking at Ace in complete confusion. He's out of his comfort zone again. There was nothing to kill.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Step one in surviving weirdness - don't ever go runnin' off alone." Ace sighs, and also goes to head upstairs, though she's fairly sure their stairwell is more creaky and gloomy and overall creepier.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Yes, Ace." Spoon says obediently, glaring at the house in general.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Two glowing green eyes above a bovine snout glare back.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I fuckin' told you so." Spoon says, punching at the snout even before he's started talking.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The mirror promptly shatters under his fist. Ace whirls around in time to see her husband murder a mirror, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Behind Spoon, there's a door. Through the door is the kitchen. Someone with perfectly atrocious decorating taste has mounted the head of a cow there.

Considering it's only a head, it's rather emphatically dead. There's even bald patches where the fur has fallen out over the years.

And yes, that thumping from upstairs is Marchley on the rampage again.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Cow." Spoon explains, slinking behind Ace with every appearance of having his tail between his legs, "It was looking at me."

Date: 2008-09-24 02:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Marchley is glaring at them over the railing.

"Sorry!" Ace calls out sunnily. "Fumbly things, stairs. Never quite where y'left them." She beams at him until he gives up and grumbles away back down the landing.

Ace then surveys the damage done to Spoon's hand, and shakes her head.
"We have got t'do sommat 'bout that cow obsession, Spoon. It's goin' t'get you seriously hurt one of these days."

Until then? No Running of the Bulls. Absolutely no way in hell. Spoon would fricking turn around and fight.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"They are evil and out to kill me." Spoon insists, picking glass out of his hand so that he'll heal faster.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"So far y'seem t'be doin' a brilliant job accomplishin' that all on y'own." Ace points out, herding him up the stairs. "Seriously, am I goin' t'have t'get you a little calf or sommat?"

Date: 2008-09-24 02:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I would kill it before it could report in." Spoon informs her seriously, "Evil. I'm not dead yet."

Date: 2008-09-24 02:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"..." Ace gets the feeling that mere logic will run away screaming from a psychosis like that, and gives up. So long as he stops bleeding at her some time soon, they're all good.

Date: 2008-09-24 02:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The good news is that he's already stopped bleeding! See? He's fine!

Date: 2008-09-24 02:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

New problem.

Someone has evidently attacked their bed with something very sharp.

The bedclothes now would work better as cleaning rags.


Ace thumps her head against the doorframe, sighing. Sometimes, winning isn't in the cards.

Date: 2008-09-24 03:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon sighs, "Right. Figures."

Date: 2008-09-24 03:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"This is entirely par for the course." Ace admits. "An' of course, no one will know about it. An' this is why runnin' off alone is a really bad idea."

Date: 2008-09-24 03:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Yes, luv. No more chasing screams."

It'll be difficult.

Date: 2008-09-24 03:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ace attempts to shoulder-bump him companionably.
"Don't worry, it gets..."

Screaming breaks out again.

This time from some space beyond the ceiling.

Date: 2008-09-24 03:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon just glares at the ceiling. "Bloody hell."

Date: 2008-09-24 03:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Well. Busy night." Ace notes, and grabs a heavy hand mirror from the vanity table before storming out the door. "C'mon, let's see who's not screamin' this time."

As Ace finds the stairs to the next floor up, the faint, coppery, sweet smell of blood seeps down.

Date: 2008-09-24 03:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon puts his hands over his nose and stalks after her. No more over reacting.


Just following.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The screaming has died away as they mount the stairs, but the smell is getting strong enough that even Ace can smell it. The landing at the top of the stairs appear to stretch back towards the other wing, but the smell is coming from a room near the head of the stairs.

Ace peers through the door cautiously.

But not for long. She shuts the door behind herself.

"Well. Now we know why Dora disappeared in the Eighties."

Date: 2008-09-24 04:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I am not going in there." Spoon informs her seriously, "She's dead?"

Date: 2008-09-24 04:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"That sort of injury is rather incompatible with life." Ace replies obliquely, leaning against the wall. "This, I believe, is going to go badly."

By which she means Marchley must have heard something, because distantly the sound of his stomping tread can be heard approaching.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Right." Spoon says, gathering his wife close, "So what's the plan?"

Date: 2008-09-24 04:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Mostly? Talkin' fast, and if anything potentially deadly comes our way, I get in front of it first." Ace replies realistically.

"Good God, don't either of you ever go to bed? This is an old house, don't you know that? It creaks! We can hear every step you take!" Marchley rumbles. Back behind him, the two other occupants can be seen approaching.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon looks at Marchley with serious eyes, "Not often."

Date: 2008-09-24 04:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Marchley, Dora McChesterson is dead." Ace doesn't believe in things like warning shots or easing into things slowly. "In there. We heard screams."
She nods towards the door. Marchley, muttering about overdramatic nutters wandering in off the moor stomps over to the closed door and yanks it open.

"Now see here, missy, we don't appreciate jokes of that kind here."

Date: 2008-09-24 04:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] going to develop a twitch under his eye while not getting between Ace and the door.

He's being good.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Marchley shoves the door open further, revealing...

A very clean room.

Now, where did all the blood and dead woman go?

Ace is feeling a bit twitchy herself, actually.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoon quietly and sincerely bangs his head on the wall.

Date: 2008-09-24 04:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Now, I don't know what your game is, but I've had enough. Either go back to your room and stay there until a reasonable hour, or you can spend it out in the cold!" Marchley declares, and stomps off again, herding his comrades ahead of him.

Ace slides down the wall until her arse hits the floor with a thump.

"I hate Victorian houses. For the record."

Date: 2008-09-24 04:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Don't much like them meself." Spoon agrees, bending down so that he can pick her up, "Come on, luv. Back to bed. I think we found your anomaly."


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