The Lurkers' Domain

His eyes were grim and his heart beat slowly. A dark wanderer a shell of what was once a man but never more. He stood beneath an old oak tree wondering which way to go next.

She walked along thinking what could have happened to the once active boarding home. It was once so full of discussion and happy dinners. Perhaps one day these sounds would return, but at this moment all that could be heard was the creaking sounds of the mannor.

He entered the great hall with his head lowered, exhausted from travels. His cloak was tattered and his body scarred from the long years of existance. He ehard something but did not see anything.

She ignored the break in silence for the wind had been particularly strong this night. She took the air in deeply, finding something different in it's smell. Something faint that had not been there before, she wondered if lillian or daniel had been lurking somewhere else in the house.

Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the old floor as she made her way to the dinning room. Wondering whether there was a fire in the hearth or one would need to be made.

His steps were silent as he lurked about the strange place. Old relics hung everywhere it gave a dark feeling over his body. Shuttering he kept to the shadows noticing a beautiful female not to far off. He did not move nor breathe. Only watch as she moved gracefully admiring her epic beauty.

She took another deep breath in, then sighed disapointed. The hearth was dusty and ill tended, though wood and a tinderbox lay tidy upon it. What had happened, what was the reason for this neglect? Had something happened to the owners? What did it matter now? Only their scents lingered.

After the fire had started, she lit a lamp and sat it upon the dinning room table. The wilted flowers seemed to shudder at the light cast upon them, revealing their age and condition. The room was cold and bitter, though in this Margarete caught a glance of steamy breath that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. She discarded the thought as a cob web and starred into the flames of the fire, watching it comsume the wood.

He stepped out from the shadows his blue eyes piercing anyone who gazed into them. He had watched her from the shadows for moments and decided to introduce himself he did not know how to approach the dark female.

"H-hello.." the words slipped from his mouth as his eyes dimmed. Did he sound weak still unsure he paused looking at her, it could not be seen over his dark tattooed cheeks but he blushed deeply.

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Immediatly she bolted from the table to him, starring into his eyes. "Welcome, how can i help you?" She made no attempt to break eye contact. She wanted to see his true answer before he spoke it.

His voice turned soft hearing hers as he closed his eyes enjoying her words "Help me? start by telling me your name knowing the name to the beauty which I speak to would be all I need".

Lilian laid in her stone sarcophagus lined in a plus deep red velvet. She felt stirrings in the mansion, cobwebs blowing from deliberate movement floors below her.

Exhaling a moment, her lungs once again began to work. Eyes opened, but blessed blackness met her delicate eyes. Her Beloved? Ah yes, a few rooms away down the hall. She listened, heard his deep breathing, he slept soundly. Unwillingly, her red lips curled into a soft smile. After all these long years, just the elation reaching out feeling him in her mind drew a smile.

Another deep breathe, still no scent, not from within her resting place. A mans voice? A lisp of a strange accent....this one is new. Silently she steeled herself praying it wasn't one she knew. A traveler, she thought. The crackle of the fireplace, 'civilized' her lips whispered the word.

Disolving into mist it seeped out of the tiny cracks of the stoned coffin, forming in her bedchambers a once again solid figure. Footfalls delicate not to move her familiar wooden floor beams, she checked her reflection in her vanity mirror; a little hollowed out and deathly pale. This rest has not been at all good to her, she thought.

Looking into her wardrobe, she saw that a lady had helped herself to one of her evening gowns. It made her smile, knowing she could help someone in anyway possible. Her gowns she'd collected from around the world during her many travels, it was nice to have someone choose one to their liking.

For this encounter she doned a black velvet cat suit with high colar and long sleeves. Slipping her feet into delicate matching slippers she looked towards the bedroom window, with a quick leap she was out of the house and in the form of a black cat climbing down the nearby tree entering the courtyard of her mansion. "Boarding house" she thought to herself in the form of the cat.

Entering the house through the 'cat door' adjastent to the court yard Lilian heard the voices much clearer now. Her new guests were sitting by the fire of the den enjoying a glass of fine 12 year old Scotch together immersed in conversation.

Shape shifting one last time, Lilian leaned against the door frame smiling "Good evening to you both."

She smiles softly, wondering about the traveler.
"My name is Margarete DeClair," her expression mirrored his. She walked away from him, thinking over the night's happenings. The fire crackeled loudly and spit small sparks upwards. Margerete became distracted by the way the light of the fire played on the objects in the room. Her eyes darted from one object to another.

Then a strange, yet familiar and comforting scent caused her to shiver slightly. She turned back towards the stranger with a confused expression, then at the sound of the host's voice, her eyes collided with Lady Lillian's. Margarete smiled, managing a distorted bow/curtsey, for it was not her custom to show such respect. Although in this time and place she understood that it was due in full, if not commanded after such hospitality.

"Hello Lady Lillian," she spoke in a soft curt voice.

Bonsoir Margarete, il est bon de vous revoir. Aucun besoin de faire une révérence le plus cher, c'est votre maison aussi bien que le mien. Qui est notre plus nouvel invité ici ?

"Good evening Margarete, it's good to see you again. No need to curtsy dearest, it's your house as well as mine. Who is our newest guest here?" Lilian answered in fluent French. Sometimes she favoured using it, often times it reminded her of her travels, it was good to use every once in a while.

With great care she cautiously took two small steps towards the darkened stranger, careful not to cross his threshhold of shadows. Feeling that, maybe, he favoured holding the shadows to himself, like the warmth of the fire and Margaretes smile.

"Hello good sir, welcome to Lurkers Manor. There are plenty of rooms in this old house, should you wish to stay awhile. If there's anything you may require please don't hesitate to ask me. You're amongst friends here, always."

"If you'd excuse me, I need to check with the staff to make sure the house is in good order." Directing a quick playful smile to the handsome stranger "au revoir amoureux bel des ombres"

With a quick knod to both Margarete and her friend she quietly excused herself from the den.

A short call out from down the hall "The specialty bar has been restocked earlier today, if you'd like something typically not found on the menu."

And with that the door to the kitchen was closed.

Margarete exchanged an amused smile with Lady Lillian as she passed. Once alone, Margarete turned to the traveler and motioned for him to take a seat if he wished. She smiled to her self, wondering why Lady Lillian had kept her secret. Margarete inconspicuosly massages a small spot on her hand where the makeup had been wiped away.

On such a night a stranger should come with such an interesting way about him. So many different smells and senses swirled around him that Margarete became somewhat entranced...enchanted even.