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Obviously, Don't Post if You Didn't Sign Up ^^ The village of Mayfield is a rather charming settlement, nestled quite snugly in the shadow of a large hill. It’s small, subdued, and maybe just a tad oldfashioned. This is the kind of place where neighbors know their neighbors, and they know the neighbor’s neighbors, and so on and so forth. Children play in the lawns, grandfathers sit on their porches, and stray chickens roam through the streets. “Surely”, you think, “What a simple, joyful town it must be.” Why, you can ask any of the residents yourself! You’ve just rolled in after all. Maybe you’re staying to see family. Perhaps you’ve come seeking employment. Or most mundane of all, you’re just passing through on your way to someplace much greater than this. You settle into your hotel, or your motel, or maybe your old childhood bedroom. As you head off to make the most of your day, your eyes catch a glimpse at the old wooden manor sat just atop the hill. It’s hard for you to make out, what with the distance and the early sun framing it on the horizon. The best you can tell, it’s some rich kid’s summer home that needs a bit more TDLC, you can see the vines growing from here.
You admire the beauty of it for just a moment before you turn back to do whatever it was you came here to do. You pass the mail man on the way out, more of a boy than a man, really. He stands there, sifting through his letters, and you pay him no mind as you move past him down the street.
What you don’t notice, is the way he startles at one specific envelope. He double takes, looking back towards your retreating form helplessly. Alas, you are gone, and he can do nothing but slip the letter underneath your door. He takes off the opposite way down the street, head hung low, knuckles white around his bag.
Hour’s later, you’ll return to a rather inconspicuous parcel laying right inside your door. It seems the mail boy has left a letter for you. You’re entirely baffled at the red, hand stamped seal staring up at you. You weren’t aware people did this sort of thing anymore. You carefully peel it off and unfold the contents inside. -
“You’re Invited! Dear Recipiant
We cordially invite you to join the Anchorage Family for the Annual Gala at this time and date. This distinguished event will be held at the Mayfeild Manor. Please join us for an evening of fine dining, music, and an extra special event catered just for you, our distinguished guests.
There is no need to confirm your attendance for this event. Please dress appropriately in formal attire. There will be no plus ones. We look forward to welcoming you” - Invitations Accepted:
Lorenzo "Enzo" Alvarez by Connival
Vivienne “Vivi” Marlowe by Wolf Pride
Paxton “Pax” Sterling by DaMeows
Aribelle "Ari" Smith by Vax
Ivy Fawcett by Spinel Grotto
Theodore "Teddy" Boulanger by Honeybee_Falls
Forestte "Tess" Morrow by Meian
River Blackwell by Echo Eclipse
Dahlia Whittle by Draconic Moon
Hyacinthus Niall-Lysander Merovingian by Spellbound
Piper “Monday” Patata by Dove Feather
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The sun slowly begins to dip in the sky, adorned with a smattering of birds and only minimal clouds. The evening is young, and it’s already shaping up to be a beautiful one. Several cars begin to filter into the secluded driveway of a private estate. The courtyard is large and lush, if a bit ill-maintained, with signs of cracking on the stones and a few weeds sprouting from the pathways. A large hedge and gated drive separate the grounds from the outside. The scent of sweet summer blooms fills the air as the guests pile out of their cars and stumble onto the walk.
A large oak manor looms before them, equal parts handsome and horrifying. The building’s sheer size is enough to intimidate some, while the sealed windows and heavy front doors tip off the rest. This is not a normal home. The crowd glances at one another as their rides peel out of the drive rather unceremoniously. The gates are shut behind them, stranding the group for the foreseeable future. Shady or not, you are here now, and the music escaping from within is enough to assure there is indeed a party to be had tonight.
The doors creak open, and several men and women dressed in fine red gowns and suits line up across the grounds. A grizzled older man steps out behind them, demeanor soft but shoulders ridged. Icy blue eyes fall on the crowd, and a pleasant smile blooms over his aging face.
“Good evening, everyone.” Wrinkled hands fold in front of him, and he tips his head down respectfully as he addresses the yard. “It is an honor to host such a group of fine young men and women at our estate.”
It’s a nice night, the air pleasantly warm with little wind. The man, however, shakes at the slightest breeze. The trembling emphasizes his fragility, a weakened frame that only comes with age. It’s rather sad, you think, watching as who can only be the estate’s proprietor shivers pitifully before you.
He grins sheepishly regardless. “My, it is simply dreadful out here.”
Sheltered by the hedges, with the sun shining on your shoulders, it is anything but.
He turns, giving a single clap as he hobbles to the door. “Come, let us walk and talk. The servants will show you in.”
Baffled, you can hardly mutter a protest as the orderlies leap into action. Each guest is quickly swept inside, and the heavy doors slam shut behind you.
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You all step into the entrance hall. The interior is moodily lit by candles, both mounted to the wall and standing inside candelabras. There are two small walkways to either side, each blocked off by heavy doors and cordoned off, seemingly by a guard. A twin staircase stands before you, leading to an unseen upper floor, with a set of double doors situated at the bottom between them. Your feet sink into a plush red carpet, and you are guided towards them as two of the servants rush forward to pull them open.
You all file into a much brighter and much finer ballroom. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, tinkling quietly and scattering a rainbow of colors across the floor. A ring of tables occupies the outer area of the room, with the middle left bare for supposed dancing and mingling. To the left is a small stage where several musicians sit tuning their instruments. They keep their heads low, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room.
A row of tables sits off to the right, filled to bursting with finger foods. You see spreads of meat and cheese, poppers, small sandwiches, and several other things you don’t know the name of. A glass punch bowl is set on the end to chill, along with a bucket of iced wines and a platter of glasses. It seems to be primarily self-serve, though you do note a servant stationed near the wine.
Above it all is a railed balcony. You startle, seeing the older man standing there and looking quite pleased with himself. A few of you glance around, confused as to when he would have had the time to break off from the group. He clears his throat, and all eyes rise to meet the startling blue of their host.
“That is much better, I should think. Please excuse me for not introducing myself sooner. My name is William Anchorage.” He crosses his hands daintily over the banister. You note that he has now donned a pair of white gloves, both embroidered with a gold A.
“I am terribly sorry for the lack of amenities.” He croons. “My son Tobias is usually in charge of the preparations for these sorts of things, but you know how the youth are these days, always filled with a dreadful sense of wanderlust.” He’s a rather animated speaker, hands waving and head nodding along.
“For now, I invite you to enjoy yourselves. Talk, mingle, enjoy the music. I’ve had the staff whip up something light to tide you over till dinner.”
He snaps his fingers, and a serving girl walks up front behind him, towel over her arm and glass of wine balanced delicately on a platter. A plastic smile sits on her face.
“I expect you’ll all be spending the night, of course. Some of the rooms aren’t made up yet, so I will, unfortunately, be departing for a short while to oversee the preparations.” He plucks the glass off the platter and swirls it lightly.
“I apologize dearly for my rather lacking manners tonight. I shall make it my prerogative to return to you as soon as I can.” He looks out over the crowd, lingering meaningfully on a few faces.
“I’m sure you have questions, and I have a few of my own I would like answered.” He pauses to take a sip, but stops himself with a frown. Linking arms with the girl, he pulls her to his side and grins, raising a toast to the guests. A few servers step forward with drinks, passing them around. Hesitantly, you toast back.
“Marvelous! To good food, good company, and a surely unforgettable night!” He throws back his drink, draining the glass. The serving girl plucks it from his hand as he swoons.
“Party! Get to know each other! We shall return shortly,” and with that, he is led away. A door above slams, and the music begins to play.
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|The Clock Strikes 5. Guests Are Free To Roam|
Please begin all posts with Name | Pronouns | Mentions: Name, NA
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Ivy Fawcett | she/her | Mentions: Enzo, Vivi Ivy smooths her hands down her inky black evening gown as she takes in the room. Their hosts are incredibly well dressed and she wonders if she should have left her hair down, rather than pull it into a bridesmaid-style updo with a few loose curls framing her face. No one has looked at her funny yet, though, and she feels pretty, so it's good enough. The room is wide and beautiful. The chandelier casts patterns on the floor that remind her of the ocean in the early morning. The music is elegant and soft, and she wonders if they're meant to dance. Ivy has to admit that, despite the grandeur of the room, she feels a bit uneasy. She trusts her gut and her gut is telling her there's something odd about this room, this house, this family. The musicians refuse to meet her eyes and the food seems excessive for a small number of people. And is she really meant to spend the night? The invitation said nothing about spending the night. She's going out for brunch with her cousins tomorrow. She hopes she'll get home in time. Is she being kidnapped? She gives a tiny shake of her head to cast off the thought. Of course not. But it is a bit odd that they'd invite her to an annual gala when she's never met anyone from the family—well, perhaps she's seen Tobias in passing, but she really can't be sure. It's been so long since she's been in Mayfield. Speaking of last time she was in Mayfield... Ivy casts a glance at the tall man nearby. Lorenzo Alvarez. She hasn't spoken to him since graduation, and even then it was a short "Congratulations" and nothing more. She drags her eyes away, refusing to dwell any longer. Instead, her gaze lands on a rigid woman in the group. The woman seems carefully controlled, but her eyes flit around the room every so often as if she's searching for something. Analyzing, maybe. Perhaps she's got the same uneasy feeling in her stomach as Ivy. Ivy casts her gaze around the room once more before taking a step forward and turning to the group. This uncomfortable silence has dragged on long enough. "Hi," she says, keeping her voice light. "I definitely remember some of you, and it's really nice to see you again. I've missed Mayfield." She pointedly avoids looking at Enzo. "For those of you I haven't met—" Her eyes land on the tense woman again, hoping she can ease her...discomfort? Ivy isn't sure "—I'm Ivy. It's lovely to meet you." God, can someone please reply? This is so awkward. Ivy fiddles with a loose curl and plasters a bright smile to her face as she waits for someone else to break the silence. |
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Cue “Gymnopédie No. 1” by Erik Satie, Minoire Theodore Boulanger || Male || Mentions: Ivy If the limousine wasn’t crazy enough- this manor tipped the scale over. Daaang this place is huuuge. It practically qualified for a Victorian mansion. Although the weather could hardly be called harsh, a chill ran up Teddy’s spine. This was it. That mysterious building he always wanted to break into as a kid was right in front of him. As a child, it seemed much more impressive. The large gates, towering hedges, and heavy doors seemed far beyond his reach. Now, however, he could practically touch them. What he would have given for this opportunity merely a decade ago… Oh shoot! He shot a glance back to the driver and grinned sheepishly. Time to quit gawking and get out so the man can do his job. Pencils and paper scraps spilled across the footwell as his fingers frantically tried to grasp for materials. If he had remembered that it took practically five minutes to cross to this part of town, he wouldn’t have gotten everything out. Finally, Teddy collected his things into a messenger satchel and stumbled onto the cobblestone. Looking up at the faint outline of the stars against the still-lit sky, he drew in a breath and tried to appreciate the moment. He would love to sit out here with a record player all night; but alas, the night must go on. Clearly, the inner courtyard could use some work. Sure, vines and ivy gave a building some character, but they also tore up the bricks. And was that Jimsonweed? Ohhh they’ve really let themselves go. The faint sound of music from the party ripped him from his inner monologue. If he could stay outside all night, he would. However, he was becoming increasingly self-aware after noticing how many people were already arriving. (Plus he was sure that butler kept side-eyeing him.) Grudgingly, Teddy set his excitement aside and joined the line 🝔 A clock tower’s dull chime echoed through the hall. Teddy sure had his reservations about the situation. The Anchorages were long a subject of wonder and fascination for this quaint town. Cynicism… Yes, that’s the word! Cynicism… No, that’s not the word! While Teddy would love to be skeptical of everyone, his current distrust only extends to the family of the establishment. Something feels off about that man. But first there’s a table of delicacies to inspect! When glancing over the invitation, he had assumed he would be catering the event. But man- was he far off. Since he is for some reason a guest, he might as well see how the kitchen staff manage. Like, do they put a pinch of paprika in the mayo for the sandwiches? Not likely! Once his eye caught the pastries, he was prepared to march over like it was war. Or- at least politely weave through the attendees while profusely apologizing for running into everybody. But before he could begin this parade, the sudden lack of chatter caught his attention. At the front of the room… someone introduced themself. It was a girl about his age- maybe they went to school together. She looked exactly like what Teddy thought of when he pictured a surfer. Golden hair rippling like the waves and colorful jewelry like the shells beneath their depths. Oh wait- maybe he went to school with most of the people here? It was like experiencing deja vu. He could vaguely tell he might know the person, but couldn’t be entirely sure. He sure didn’t want to introduce himself next, but apparently everybody else was spacing out or also too scared. Worst case scenario, he steps out at the same time as someone else and they all stone him to death. Why couldn’t life be easy?
Before making a fool of himself, he tried to adjust his clothing to not look like his mother still dressed him. No need to become an even bigger fool. At that point, he might as well go find a court jester hat. Still tugging at his shirt, Teddy found himself gravitating toward the front of the room as well. Oh gosh, why was he doing this? This is the first time he’s been invited to a fancy event and he’s about to never be invited to another one ever again. “Uhhh-” his brain immediately blanked. “Well I for one don’t recognize most of you.” He glanced at Ivy-” I think?” (Well introductions are usually bound to be awkward. Might as well get it out of the way early.) “But I’m Teddy- er- well, Theodore Boulanger- that is. My family runs that old bakery down yonder.” He already wanted to sit in front of a mirror smacking his forehead thinking, stupid stupid stupid. As he’s learned from previous social gatherings, he had better luck waiting for a few other people to introduce themselves and then falling into oblivion. Nobody ever remembers what happens in the middle of the play except for a climax! The beginning and end make the impressions. By extension, if you flub up the start- everyone’s bound to notice! |
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Piper “Monday” Patata { She/Her } Monday mumbled to herself as she pulled down her skirt. She wished she could've gotten something better to wear to this party than a hand-me down jacket and skirt so she didn't stick out so much among the others dressed up in fancy garments and jewelry. With a sigh, Monday wandered over to the tables where the punchbowl was. She paid no mind to the servant standing beside the table as she grabbed one of the glasses and filled it up with punch. Holding the glass cup up to her lip, she took a sip. Monday gagged, swallowed hard, and set the cup on the table beside her. That was way too sweet for her... Setting it down, she looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the musicians who still refused to meet anyone’s gaze. Stepping forward, she began to walk up to them. |
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Paxton “Pax” Sterling | He/They | Mentions: Enzo
Pax looks at his surroundings, taking in the sights of the ballroom. He takes a moment to adjust his already impeccably ironed suit and smooth his unruly hair before walking towards the others. His dress shoes click against the tile of the floor, signalling his arrival. He wasn’t particularly stealthy, but then again, why did he need to be?
Pax looks around at the unfamiliar faces, not recognizing any of them.
Huh, don’t think I’ve seen these people when I visited Linnea a few years back. But I didn’t stay for very long anyway, so maybe I just didn’t notice them or something.
His eyes fall onto a tall man, not quite as tall as himself, with black slicked back hair and a thick ponytail. He seems especially well dressed, even in a crowd of others in suits and whatnot.
Maybe he’s a fellow businessman, like me.
Pax smirks ever so slightly at the thought before walking up to him.
“Hello.” Pax says warmly, a smile on his face, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” |
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River Blackwell | Agenderfluid They/He | M: Open! River had been in many big houses whether on a job or at parties and had always been jealous but there was something off about it. They had stepped out of the car still baffled at why he was invited, they had questioned whether they wanted to go or not but he was curious. There were a fair few of them and he could sense a speech coming and he was right, luckily not the longest he had heard. 'Young men and women' River's shoulders tensed slightly at the wording, and he wondered in that moment if they were really meant to be there. He had already been called everything around the sun not just here. Just as the last person walked through, the excessively large doors closed behind them but they could leave whenever they wanted, right? The interior was grand to say the least. The ballroom was very bright the light bouncing of everything but eventually their eyes settled. - River's eyes glanced all over the room, they thought "this was surely a mistake." he looked up at the balcony overlooking the ballroom and "there was our gracious host." he thought. He looked around at everyone mostly noticing what they were wearing, River's style was often out of the norm so they weren't surprised. Their clothes felt almost too dark compared to the brightness of the room.The long, almost gothic, black tailcoat he wore was sharply tailored to his silhouette. His trousers matched the rest of their attire, black. A thin silver chain rested just under his collar over a white shirt, laying flat against him. Silver cufflinks adorned their wrists, catching the light only in passing when he moved. A singular ring on their right hand had become a habit, constantly turned between his fingers whenever their attention drifted. They looked more like they belonged in the shadows and that's where he had been most of his life. - 'Spending the night' River was shocked at that, the invitation said nothing about that and they noticed a few others were taken aback as well. They were handed a drink and they took a small sip of it, so small it could only be a few drops. They looked around as the clock struck five, a few people seemed to know each other. He didn't know what to do as he didn't know anyone maybe someone would approach him? |
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Vivienne Marlowe l Female l M: Ivy, Teddy . Vivienne did not have a good feeling about this. Maybe it was the driver in the limousine, or maybe it was the condition of the house, but most of all, it was meeting the proprietor. It wasn't him himself of course, but it was the ghost of the fact that he seemed vaguely familiar. And it didn't help when he said he has a son. Tobias Anchorage. I'll have to save that information for later. As the proprietor toasted and then turned his back to dismiss, Vivienne began to look around and analyze her surroundings. She scanned the walls for the nearest exit. At the moment she only found one, the double doors from which they entered, but nonetheless she scanned for more. She wouldn't be surprised if there were more, this place reminded her of one of those castles with all the different riddles, secret passages, and whatnot. Luckily she was good with riddles and anagrams if that be the case. Naturally however, he body began to turn so that she could peripherally see the only confirmed entrance and exit. It was instinctual at this point, and the saying goes that old habits die hard. It had been hard these last couple months, as adjusting to civilian life had been riddled with constant doctor visits and checkups, and along with constant phone calls from base asking if she'd be willing to be a agent in their investigative service. She was still thinking about it, as she had minored in criminal justice in college. But Vivi still had a long way to go. Now that she had all the entrance's and exits in sight, she gently smoothed her emerald green gown as she began to take in the others. Her dress curved down her body to a couple inches above her feet, which revealed her gray heels with rhinestones that still managed to shine in the dim light. Her hair was braided into a elegant fishtail braid, flecked with sparkles of you managed to look closly, and fell loosely over her rigjt shoulder. She wore a small jeweled necklace with a small cross in the center, with two silver dangley braclets on her right arm, which she uses to cover a burn mark the doctors couldnt cover. All she carried with her was a small silver purse, which contained her cell phone, a small notebook, a pen, and some Advil. As she looked back towards the group, her intelligence past taught her to highlight the non verbal cues people gave off, and right now most were giving off the same kind of vibe, nervous and uncomfortable. The proprietor was long gone, and most hadn't even took a step. She began to wonder why this group of people was chosen, but didn't dwell on that for long as a young women took a step forward. She glanced around nervously before speaking. Ivy was her name. She was indeed an elegant woman, and she began to note the way she stood confidently, but not so confidently at the same time. Courage, a good trait to have in a person. She would have to note that for later. She seemed the kind of person Vivi could stuck with. However, Vivienne was not about to go up and speak. She didn't really want people to notice her, because that's when the questions started. The scars, the burn marks. The flashbacks had only stopped a couple weeks prior, and she did not need them to start up again. Vivienne closed her eyes and took a deep breath, warding those thoughts off. Finally she looked back up to see another gentlemen, who she did notice took courage to stand with Ivy, Theodore his name. However it seemed like he wanted to take back whatever he was going to say as he was saying it, and stumbled alittle. She couldn't judge though, as had she done that she probably would have sounded the same way. She had noticed his particular gaze towards the pastries, and she couldn't blame him, they did look good, and understood when he mentioned his family's bakery. Then a thought sprung to her mind, was everyone here from Mayfield? And was she the only outsider? Well if she thought she was making friends, thay definitely wasn't happening now. But she would definitely have to speak to Ivy later, maybe once the group dispersed a bit. She seemed like someone Vivienne would be comfortable hanging around. |
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Forestte"Tess" Morrow | she/her | Mentions: Ivy, Teddy A light sweat broke out in her palms, and Tess wiped her hands nervously on her tan slacks. Despite the icy cold a/c that had been turned all the way up and faced towards her hands, they continued to form a nervous sweat. This entire ordeal was a complete mystery, and the wordless chauffer was offering no clues. Forestte wore a maroon blouse of thin, layered fabric with an asymmetrical, v-cut neckline that perfectly displayed a simple golden cross necklace around her neck. For footwear, she'd chosen some warm brown colored velvet heels, which were about 2 inches high. This entire outfit had only been packed to be worn on sundays to mass, she'd had no clue she would need it for a surprise visit to a mysterious manor. Her hair was tied half up, a simple style due to her uncertainty about the situation, but one that suited any ocassion. More sweat formed on her palms, and she resigned herself to the sensory nightmare in order to spare her slacks severe water damage. The ride was surprisingly short, and they were soon pulling through a large pair of ornate gates into a driveway that looked fancy, though perhaps due for a weed treatment. Stepping out of the vehicle, the transition from air conditioned lounge to warm summer air was refreshing. The tense posture of her shoulders eased slightly as she followed the rest of the group, most - thankfully - seeming as lost as she was. If the exterior had been impressive, the interior of the mansion was astounding. Roped off doors on either side of the intial area begged for curiosity regarding what lay behind them. However, the nerves that had been slightly relieved in the fresh air outside were creeping right back, and no other thoughts or feelings were competing for the forefront of Tess's mind. Her heels sunk into the lush carpets as the group was ushered forward again. Tess took a tiny, hesitant sip with the toast, knowing herself to be a lightweight, and watched as their host saw himself out. Spend the night? she thought. Surely it was just a jest? Surely it was at least optional, if he was serious. She didn't like the idea of a strange area full of strange people. Hotels were challenge enough, but at least she had guaranteed privacy. A woman, seemingly close to Tess's age, spoke up and introduced herself to the group. It seemed an appropriate time to mingle, she supposed, but she was still trying to process a few things. The confusion of the environment had rendered her usual social charm somewhat diminished. Shortly after, another young individual spoke up. He was blonde and green eyed, just like the woman who had spoken before him, though their specific shades didn't match exactly. Tess mused to herself about the coincidence before breaking out of her own internal world and speaking up herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you two, and everyone else" she said, gesturing first to the two speakers, then to the rest of the group. "I'm Forestte - or Tess, since it's easier - I hope we can get to know each other a little better and have a good time while we're here," she finished, smiling her customer service smile. She did truly wish to meet these strange new people, but at the moment, they weren't close enough for her to speak casually to them. The table of treats was calling her name, and she felt her stomach grumble, but she figured it would be awkward to speak up and then rush off to the finger foods. |
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Dahlia Whittle | She/Her | Mentions: Ivy, Teddy, Tess When Dahlia stepped out of the limo that brought her to the manor, she stared up at the building in awe. She’d seen the building from afar plenty of times, but it was always difficult to see details from afar. Distance always made things seem small, and as such, Dahlia had never felt quite so small in the presence of a building of all things. Schooling her expression, Dahlia reminded herself that that was all it was, a building like any other. Okay, maybe not any other, exactly, but still. Even so, as she entered the manor, she simply could not shake the awe. This place was opulent. It felt more like a showy display of wealth and power than someone’s home. Thinking back on her time at her grandparents’ house, with its homey atmosphere, echoes of laughter, and seemingly permanent scent of baking cookies, Dahlia couldn’t help but feel a little sad. That feeling of home was something she valued. This place did not have that. Dahlia stepped into the ballroom. The manor was opulent, yes, but it was cold. Not the kind of cold that sent shivers down one’s spine, but the kind that seeped into one’s bones regardless of actual temperature. With a tiny shake of her head, as if to dispel the thoughts, Dahlia turned her attention to the actual contents of the ballroom, rather than the feeling she got from this place. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Now was the time to socialize, eat fancy food, and panic because she doesn’t have a clue about fancy party etiquette. She figured it’d be a good idea to stand off to the side ever so slightly until someone else acts. Was Dahlia just letting everyone else lead right now? Yes, yes she was. But she wasn’t here to make a fool of herself. Technically, she wasn’t really here for the fancy party either, but one does not simply ignore a fancy invitation from the Anchorage family. Speaking of the Anchorage family, the man who had led everyone in—William—began to speak to the group. Dahlia turned and gave the man her full attention. She wasn’t sure how he had gotten to the balcony so quickly, and she was struck with a thought just a moment later: This is a place full of secrets, isn’t it? And where there are secrets, there are stories. This estate certainly seemed the place for it. “...Always filled with a dreadful sense of wanderlust.” Dahlia smiled at that. That sense of wanderlust was something she deeply understood. It was why she had traveled away for college instead of finding one closer to home. It was part of why she loved visiting her grandparents so much. One part of it was Mayfield itself. It was a lovely place, very different from the city she grew up in. Mayfield was a place where everybody knew everybody. It had this way of feeling like home, even to strangers. Another reason she loved visiting her grandparents was, well, her grandparents and their house. She loved that yard, large and full of both flora and fauna. She used to go out there and pretend she was an explorer in a jungle. Years later, she researched the plants with her mother and grandmother, starry-eyed even as it was revealed that the plant she was looking at was just a strawberry plant. Even now, that place had an important place in Dahlia’s life. It inspired the setting for a few of her fantasy world ideas. She remembered when she’d spend hours engrossed in her writing, creating a world all her own, with all sorts of creatures inhabiting it. She remembers one of her first ideas, one she used to think was going to be the next big thing, but now sat somewhere among her many documents, a story of a girl who traveled the world. Her name was Daisy, a fact Dahlia only remembered because she was her first character, and had been altered and reused time and again. And no, she totally didn’t name her Daisy so they could both have flower names, no, haha, what are you talking about? William Anchorage was still talking, so Dahlia quickly shut down her other train of thought to listen. She may not know fancy party etiquette, but she knew regardless that not listening to the host was impolite. Besides, what if she missed something important? “...Spending the night of course.” Spending what? Spending the night? Goodness, Dahlia had missed something, hadn’t she? Was this normal? Had that been mentioned in the invitation? Upon glancing around, she realized that others seemed confused as well. Dahlia was only partially relieved, because while that meant she hadn’t missed this important information earlier, it also probably meant this was not, in fact, normal. Great! Dahlia brushed her bangs out of her face, which weren’t getting in her eyes just yet, thankfully. Honestly, she’d just done it to do something with her hands. She was glad she’d put her red hair up into a nice bun for tonight. She really didn’t want to deal with having more of her hair in her face. She started absentmindedly twirling one of the longer locks on the side of her face. With this lighting, it seemed almost fiery in color. “I’m sure you have questions, and I have a few of my own I would like answered.” Oh, you bet I have questions, starting with what in the world do you mean we’re staying the night? She thought. That last part intrigued her though. Mr. Anchorage had questions for them? Dahlia wondered what they could possibly be. She watched as the man made a toast and excused himself. An unforgettable night, huh? Yeah, Dahlia got the distinct feeling that that would be true. She couldn’t help but feel nervous now, both from William Anchorage’s speech and the fact that now she was just standing here in a group of strangers. For a few moments nobody moved, and frankly Dahlia couldn’t blame anyone. This was all very strange to her. Idly adjusting her green glasses, Dahlia watched as the first few people began to introduce themselves. First a woman named Ivy—hey, a fellow plant name!—then a man named Theodore, or Teddy? She wondered if he preferred Teddy, since he’d said that name first. His family runs a bakery, huh? I remember Papa talking about a really good bakery around here, I wonder if they’re the same? After that, another woman spoke up, Forestte, or Tess, as she’d offered. Ah, yes, the ultimate plant name, and a pretty one at that. Dahlia smiled. Absolutely no one seemed familiar. She thought maybe she’d seen one or two in passing, maybe. Almost as if maybe they had been in a restaurant at the same time recently or something. It certainly wasn’t enough to give her any sort of comfort. Still, Dahlia took a step forward. Might as well get her introduction over with. She knew for a fact that not a soul in this room would know her. Taking a deep breath, she began speaking to the group with her characteristic bright smile. “My name is Dahlia, Dahlia Whittle. It’s nice to meet all of you!” Gosh, now what did she say? Maybe a little more about her, probably. It couldn’t hurt, at least. “I’m not really from around here, but I visit frequently. I hope to get to know some of y’all tonight!” It wasn’t the smoothest introduction she’d ever made, but it also wasn’t the worst. With a kind smile, Dahlia stepped off to the side and out of the proverbial spotlight. It was nice to have that done now. She glanced over at the table of food, feeling hungry. In a minute, she decided, she would go and grab some food. First, she wanted to see who else would introduce themselves. She was trying hard to commit these names to memory, and really didn’t want to miss one. |
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Fall Month: 1 
Day 
