MM-More Than Glory [Invite]

[NPC]

~~~~~

The palace must have been something to behold in its heyday. The golden banners still hung on their posts, but now they were faded and tattered. The strong stone walls had held up well, however, and these enclosed the visitors well. There were separate buildings behind those walls, largely encircling the valley through which the visitors wandered.

The buildings were of the sort one would typically find in an old holdfast of the days of lords and ladies, of realms and kings and fealty. They had windows that opened out along the valley, all empty, of course, save for the furnishings and decorations, now faded and broken, that still remained inside -and save for one room where, if they followed the faint sound of a lute playing, they would swear they saw people dancing. And it was true; there was a gathering inside one grand hall, with figures dressed in classic gowns and doublets and jackets, all moving in time to the lutist's music.

A few of the dancing figures, beautiful and lively, gestured toward the visitors, smiling, and gestured for them to come inside, through the two open windows, and join them. The party seemed happy enough, and, although there was little reason why there should be such a gathering in this long-forgotten place, there seemed to be no other reason why they should not join in.

~~~~~

[Devon Ridgeman]

Can't help myself but count the flaws. Claw my way out through these walls.
One temporary escape. Feel it start to permeate.
We lie beneath the stars at night, our hands gripping each other tight.
You keep my secrets, hope to die. Promise to swear unto the sky.
______________________________The Naked And Famous - "Young Blood"

It was almost as if he'd walked into something from Game of Thrones; a once regal fortified palace now left to the rigours of time and simply allowed to slowly decay of its own accord. Rather than be stripped out for demolition as buildings such as this often were - if they hadn't been protected under the laws relating to historical sites of significance - everything had simply been left alone. The banners which had once stated the house which had held dominion over the dwelling had been faded by the elements, the golden thread reduced to a yellowish off-white hue and the design upon it almost completely gone. The stone walls, however, had fared much better; the vast majority of rooms remaining in a state where they could still be so-called.

Having been left at the mercy of the sunlight and whatever other meteorological elements had managed to creep in through the glassless windows dotted around the palatial estate, the furniture was in dire need of restoration. Some were faded, while others had been damaged almost to the point of being considered firewood. Of course, this meant rather little to Devon Ridgeman. The subject of antiquities was one which failed to interest him and, were he in need of extra warmth when the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have thought nothing of demolishing a centuries-old divan potentially worth tens of thousands of dollars, just to cannibalise its wooden components.

Everything he'd seen in the few minutes he'd wandered the halls and grounds of the palace had told him that the place had been deserted; likely for far longer than he'd been alive. He surmised that, if historians were to learn of this place, the grounds would have been cordoned off within twenty-four hours while a collective of middle-aged men with receding gray hairlines and glasses fawned over the sight of what had once been. At the end of the day, they were simply geeks with money and university degrees and, for some reason, Devon had never trusted those more learned than himself. Maybe because most of such people had been doctors. Who knew?

It wasn't until he left the confines of what used to be the servants' quarters and made his way around the outer wall of the main palace that his ears began to pick up something beyond the gentle breeze and sporadic birdsong. It was something he knew should have been impossible, but it piqued his interest anyway. The sound of one of those old-school guitars of which he could never remember the correct name filled the air on the other side of the wall; the shaped portholes being the only reason he could hear it. Spotting a pile of fallen rubble ahead, he clambered his way to its summit and, taking care not to fall, took a look through the closest window to his new vantage point.

...the fuck?

For a brief moment, he was prepared to chalk the sight up to being a hallucination. After all, what else could a single pristine ballroom filled with dancers in an entirely abandoned keep be but an imaginary construct of his mind? It was only when he reminded himself that he'd been clean for almost eighteen months that he slowly started to entertain other theories. He'd heard stories of apparitions being powerful enough to alter the perceptions of the living around them; albeit mostly in episodes of Supernatural he'd watched with Amalia. Everything in the ballroom was precisely as it would have been when the palace was in use; decorated with antique furniture and showered in light by the elaborate crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.

In the middle of the room, nearly four dozen guests - split equally between men and women - danced in time to the music; each and every one of them decked out in costumes befitting the age. The women were dressed in flowing ball gowns of various colours and materials, while the men were in equally variable forms of formal dress. Some were in doublets and jackets, while others looked as though they had elected to wear the ceremonial attire of the branch of the military in which they actively served, complete with the medals they'd been awarded for conflicts overseas. It was weird enough to simply watch them as they enjoyed themselves but, when one of the women removed her hand from her partner's hip and gestured an invitation for him to come inside, he almost flinched his way off the makeshift pedestal.

If only for the purposes of determining whether or not he was going insane, Devon hopped down from the rubble and sprinted his way into the palace. He had no idea just where the ballroom actually was in relation to the formerly ornate entrance hall but, even with his footfalls echoing loudly around him, he did his best to train his ears on the lutist as they continued to play their classical piece. The doors leading into the ballroom were easy to spot. Both them, and the wall into which they'd been situated were unmistakably pristine; the ornate handles polished to a shine while the stonework was unmarred by time, cobwebs and dust. Fighting back a small shiver as he reached out for the door, he pulled on the handle and made his way inside.

Whether they failed to notice him or were just being polite, Devon watched as nearly everyone in the room simply went about their business, ignoring the man in twenty-first century clothing watching them enjoy themselves. The only person who did seem to notice him was a balding man in his fifties. Dressed in what looked like a tuxedo - or the suit-like uniform of a butler - he turned to regard him, taking in the presumably outlandish look the former addict was sporting. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Devon simply waited right where he was, wondering just what the guy wanted...

[Helena Rahal]

I'm tearing away
Pieces are falling
I can't seem to make them stay

Helena folded her arms across her chest as she looked at the run down palace. It was in remarkably good shape for being hundreds if not over a thousand years old, though there was the obvious wear and tear from the elements and time. What it must have looked like in its actual heyday when the banners were not torn and faded, when men would have been patrolling the walls, and the nobles and tradesmen working inside the walls themselves. It must have been a true spectacle to behold then, but not it was merely a monument to a past now long since forgotten.

How she had come to be inside those walls though she could not recall, perhaps having merely slept too much on the trip. Though considering that it was indeed something of a castle palace, then she knew that she was likely in Europe somewhere. Had she finally decided to locate a palace to inspect and claim as her own as her aunt had suggested? If so, she was not sure she could have done much better, considering the amount of wars and years that these sort of places had seen.

Helena was surprised as she peeked inside various doors to still see tapestries and furniture in the buildings. They were all faded greatly and with torn fabric or broken pieces off of them of course. Yet it greatly intrigued that there was still what would be furnishings, some of them even looking semi modern in their design. Had someone recently inhabited these grounds and if so, to where had they gone without taking these belongings? Yes they were far from the best condition, but if you could afford to live in a palace like this, you could afford the miniscule costs to repair them.

However as Helena neared the center of the grand estate, she heard something that simply could not be. It was faint but there was the sound of music on the air, a lute or or perhaps a cello, she had never been terrible great a guessing instruments. That piqued her interest, as perhaps some of the local teenagers had come to this place to practice in solitude. It would not be the first time that creative and energetic minds sought solace to hone their craft and an abandoned palace like this would be a great inspiration. You could close your eyes and almost pretend you were playing for some royal engagement with as nice as this place was, even in its run down state.

Helena followed the music and moved briskly in the cool, dead air of the palace and its hallways. As her feet moved her body closer, the music grew louder and clearer, to the point she could hear more than just the one instrument, there were several. It almost sounded like a band but it all sounded of the old antique instruments, those seldom used by the musicians of this age. Violins, flutes, cellos, harps, and instruments of that nature, unlike the guitars and drums of these days.

Her eyes went wide as she came to entrance of what she surmised to be the grand hall or ball room. There were people inside those doors, all dressed in what was seventeenth and eighteenth century regalia, dancing in tune to the music. Were that enough to send a small chill down her spine, standing there at the entrance was none other than Devon Ridgeman, a friend of her wife and housemate of theirs. Was this some dream, why would he be here in this palace, she surely would not have brought him along for palace hunting, would she?

Like her, with Helena dressed in a neon pink wind breaker with a baby blue and white blouse underneath and blue jeans, Devon to was dressed in modern clothing. The man beside him though was dressed in typical butler attire and looked like he was waiting to serve Devon. "If this is a dream, this is a rather peculiar and strange one and one I would not have expected to see you in." Helena said in a hushed voice as she came to stand beside Devon after one of the women dancing had stopped in place and beckoned her forth. To what end though, Helena could not even begin to guess.

"A most peculiar dream indeed."

[Raphael Kim Ji Hyun]

This is the wildest thing Raphael has ever seen. Turning around on the spot, Raphael allowed his dark eyes wandered, slowly taking in his surrounding. His mind let no details escape him, noting the dry branches and discolored flags swaying in the wind, the moss-covered stone walls standing tall to his left, chipped in places but still intact. The sky above was a shade of opaque blue, with light wisp of clouds not heavy enough to shield away the brilliant sun. A beaten castle standing tall on his right, deteriorated with age or negligence, probably both.

There was a tiny frown formed between his handsome eyebrows, like he is troubled, though of course anyone would be if they're standing on where he stood right then, on a patch of green grass the only living thing in sight. Raphael attempted to make sense of this - whatever it is - yet he could not. Perhaps the only sane explanation for this bizarre event to take place would be a strange dream.

But does one often feel so awake while they are dreaming?

Riding on the wind came along the sound of music, some sort of flute, cheerful and light. Its tone speaks of happiness and celebration, yet what is it they are celebrating out here at this lonely place, that is perhaps another unsolved puzzle adding to the pile. Raphael moved forth a few steps and peered into an empty entrance, it was so dark inside he could see nothing but faint outlines in the darkness. A widely opened space ended in a patch of blackness at far end, faintly lit by lights with its source obscured. Subconsciously the male bit his lips, he was tempted to explore the place, however creepy it seems. A curious baby he always is, there's nothing better than some mysteries to pull him in.

And there she was coming out from the right, dressed in a evening gown made of green and golden silk that looks nothing near modern, her hair did up in an elegant bun, loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. Timeless grace clung to her every movements. His stare must have capture her attention, or his appearance had, she paused by the doorway and turned to face Raphael. As she raised her hand to beckon him over, a flash of impatience crossed her expression. Startled, the Asian could just blinked at her, surprise apparent on his face. After a moment of hesitation he adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder and moved forward, knowing that he will never figure out what this fuss is about by standing here. The girl turned around and disappeared into the darkness before Raphael could reach her.

His call for her to wait up died in his throat, his frown still furrowed deep, steps proceeding forward quickened to a jog. The presence of another made the empty foyer looks very lonely now, the kind of loneliness that makes one wants to escape.

The interior of the castle was dark, but there's enough light to see by. Lights flowed in from the opening at the end of long hallway to his left, which direction he instinctively followed. The sound of his footsteps echoed around the quiet hall, punctured by nothing but the constant music, his own breathing and sound of his heartbeat; Raphael wondered is it usually as loud as he heard it beating.

The sound of party grew louder as the pool of light grows bigger with each step forward, soon Raphael came into bath of the warm lights, it sucked away the coldness clinging to him, coldness that he didn't even notice before, running so high in adrenaline. He paused at the entrance and let his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, squinting as he did so.

The first thought through his head after taking in the scene, he's right, there is some sort of party going on here, the laughter and chatter, the clink of silverware, warm aroma of food and alcohol drifting in the air along with the horde of bodies. He couldn't recognized the girl who beckoned him inside no more, colors are everywhere in this room, he could barely differentiate one passing face to another, all in beautiful gowns and fancy dress robes no one wears in the modern era anymore.

Raphael gulped, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously, suddenly being aware of how outstanding he was dressing in his modern clothes with his school bag slung over one shoulder. For some unfathomable reason he wished for some sort of cover among this crowd.

Don't be silly, this is just a joke, His sensible side finally got over its initial shock and chided Raphael for his fear. True, he should know that the drama faculty being more than capable of creating this kind of stunt, the centuries-old castle, the creepy party in the middle of nowhere, costume and decoration proves no difficulty to them.

His gut instincts though, told him otherwise.

Following the voice which told him to hide, Raphael slid into the party and stood by one corner, hoping the black he's wearing could keep him hidden, yet knowing that his casual style is exactly the reason he's standing out among this crowd. It was proven true when a boy came up offering glasses of what looks like alcohol. Raphael took one mumbling thanks, at the same time noting how his glance at himself doesn't betray a hint of surprise, like he sees people in modern clothing everyday.

This must be a joke, The Asian male decided, nodding to himself. He glanced around the party once again, this time hoping to spot some modern gadgets, like hidden cameras or mike, any sign that he's being set up; there wasn't one visible, but he thought he caught glimpses of people in modern clothing among the crowd. He set off to look for them.

It hasn't take long, he finally found them, two others, one boy and one girl. They are deep in conversation when Raphael approaches them. The Asian kept his expression neutral, but eyes bright with curiosity. "Excuse me, are you guys from the drama faculty?" His question were ask with careful tone, impolite is never the way he would get out of this - an experiment or joke, whatever it is.

Raphael just hope to get some explanations.

"Raphael's Speech"
Raphael's Thoughts
NPC Speech

Words: 1057
OCC: sorry, so late.
Outfit: CLICK

Template by Paige @ WATR and CAUTION

[NPC]

The dancers called all of the passersby inside to dance with them, their lutist plucking out happy tune after happy tune. They did not seem to notice the strange clothes or accessories, or at least did not care; whichever the case, they were a welcoming group. And, if one joined in, or at least looked close enough, one would see a figure whom the crowd was dancing all around - a jovial figure, dressed and surrounded all in purple, with modest gold accents here and there. He sat on a throne, ornate and glowing in the light of the setting sun, and laughed heartily, clapping his hands and tapping his feet in time.

The palace seemed to brighten then, in the cast of the sunset - shining pearls and rubies and other fair jewels, and the lute music turned to song as three more women - more like Echoes - breezed in and added their voices to the lute's melody, singing to and of their king, sitting on his throne among his merry followers.

[Devon Ridgeman]

H-8 is the one for me! It gives me all I need...
...and helps me coexist with the chill!
You make me sick because I adore you so!
I love all the dirty tricks and twisted games you play on me.
______________________________Muse - "Space Dementia"

"If this is a dream..."

If there was one thing of which Devon had to keep reminding himself as of late, it was that Inaki Soler - the man who had been chosen above him to become the latest marital partner of Felicia Rahal - no longer existed. He hadn't been made privy to any of the circumstances as to why the "unfamiliar woman" had taken his place but, over time, he had watched Felicia interacting with Helena and deduced quite a few things on his own before any real explanation came his way. Mentally, at least, it was still the same person Felicia had married. Helena was aware of things that only Felicia's significant other could have known, such as having first met his stepdaughter in the flesh at her apartment, amidst some rather embarrassing circumstances.

It had struck him as slightly weird that Inaki had left the house - and the state - one week and returned as a youthful and somewhat attractive woman the next but, compared to many things which surrounded the Rahal family, an insanely convincing (and permanent-until-reversed) gender change wasn't really that bad. "...this is a rather peculiar and strange one and one I would not have expected to see you in. A most peculiar dream, indeed."

"Hello to you, too, Helena." Devon wasn't entirely sure whether he should feel offended by the remark. He had just about as much idea as to why he was witnessing a scene from a period drama - that was, none at all - as the woman next to him. But, having been on more drug trips than he could reliably count, Devon felt himself uniquely gifted with discerning what was real and separating it from what was a product of his own mind. As outrageous as it looked, as impossible as rationality should have deemed it to be, this was real. Somehow.

However, before either of them could come up with a theory as to why two residents of the same household were now finding themselves witnessing a ghost story, the series of heavy footsteps behind them - heavier than the softer footwear of the dancers - caused the thoughts to be immediately dispelled. Wearing mostly dark clothes, the brown-haired Asian man was the personified equivalent of the metallic 'busted' sign from Mythbusters. With the "Cazenovia Residents Only" theory now up in smoke, the explanation had become that much more elusive. "Excuse me..." Sure enough, Raphael sounded just as confused - if not more so - than they were. "Are you guys from the drama faculty?"

So it seemed he was going with the "college prank" theory. Devon hadn't thought of that one. "No, we're not," he sighed flatly, turning his attention back to the dancing crowd. "I don't have a clue what's going on here." Ignoring the beckoning gestures of the crowd as they attempted to warmly invite him into the fray for the moment, Devon had been surveying the grand hall as meticulously as he could muster, looking for anything which would have suggested that this was some sort of prank or falsehood; cables trailing along the floor to denote some form of hidden electrical equipment or the barely perceptible whine of a desktop computer as the fans contained within endeavoured to stop the whole thing from overheating.

Over the past year, there had been an almost violent upward surge in the sophistication of what was colloquially called "hologram technology". While humanity was orders of magnitude away from crafting holographic entities such as Robert Picardo's character in Star Trek Voyager, three-dimensional projections - or two-dimensional ones which gave such an illusion - were something which technology was now able to do. Whether it had been having fictional anime-inspired pop star Miku Hatsune and the other "Vocaloids" performing songs to a crowd of waiting fans or bringing rap stars from decades past back from the dead, the holograms had only been of a single subject. What he, Helena and now Raphael were now seeing, however, was over two dozen people, each immaculately dressed in period costume, performing complex movements as their positions mingled around one another. What made the "hologram" theory tougher to swallow was how a few of the partygoers; such as the man in the centre of the chaos, was interacting with a piece of furniture.

It was unclear as to whether the throne upon which the man was seated was actually there, but the fact that he was sitting on it without causing his three-dimensional likeness to pass through the seat - a problem encountered with many forms of computer-generated imagery - was a testament to their realism, regardless of how temporary it might have been. "But the guy in the middle? Look at him." Rather than fully extend his arm, Devon made a subtle gesture towards the prominent man. "He's sat on a throne. And they always said that purple was a regal colour, right? So this has gotta be some sort of royal celebration. The thing that gets me is... why're we able to see it?"

Deciding that remaining on the proverbial sidelines could only accomplish so much, Devon tentatively took a few paces forward, breaking away from his companions. As if his footsteps had set off some sort of silent alarm, it wasn't long before one of the partnerless and pristinely dressed women slipped away from the tumultuous throng of dancers and approached him, her hand outstretched as she greeted him with a warm smile. "W-.. Wait," Devon began, as he realised the intent behind the woman's gesture. "You want me to dance..?"

The surprise at being wordlessly asked to join in the festivities, despite his attire being at least two centuries ahead of the rest of the party, was only compounded when the woman's slender hand found purchase in his palm, her manicured fingernails coiling out of sight as she demurely gripped his hand. "Of course I wish you to dance!", she replied, chuckling quietly as she gently pulled him closer. "Whyever else would you be here, sir?"

"But you don't get it," he protested, his legs shifting into gear in order to follow her back into the crowd. With the woman actually touching him, he couldn't really say that she wasn't real or at least tangible. But there was still one problem he had quickly envisioned by the time the woman's free hand gently clasped the side of his stomach. "I can't dance."

"Then I will lead," she said, as if his ineptitude was of no consequence. Altering her posture slightly, she began to guide Devon's hands into place. "Place your hands thusly... and simply stay close to me. That is all that is needed of you. Except your name, of course."

Oh, what the hell? If his theories were correct, she would end up winking out of existence once the dancing drew to a close anyway. Besides, it was a little better than standing around doing nothing. "Devon. My name's Devon."

[Helena Rahal]

Could you be the one
Who is not afraid to look me in the eye?

It seemed that Devon had his wits about him, which was odd, since if this was a dream, he would have been more shaped like a piece of furniture. She was the one who so eloquently put that he looked like a piece of human furniture, so naturally her subconscious would have made him look like such. Perhaps this was not a dream at all, but if it was not a dream, just what was going on and how did she and Devon end up in the same place? For that matter, where was her wife?

Before she could ask though, some guy came up and asked if they were part of the drama department. Great, just what they needed, another tourist who had no idea what was happening around here. Devon though beat her to the punch in letting their new accomplice onto the fact that they were not part of some drama department up to shenanigans.

"The fact is, we're lost and have no clue what's going on, so join the club." Their "hosts" though were not content with them standing and watching, as they motioned for them to join in the dance as well. Helena gave a shrug even as Devon pointed out the jovial figure in the regal colors and decided to just go with the flow of it all. What was the worst that could possibly happen in a spooky old castle like this anyhow?

Going up to one of the well dressed figures that Helena was fairly sure was a woman, she offered her hand. "Would you be as so kind as to lead? I am afraid I have two left feet when it comes to dancing." All she got was a nod and a smile before the woman took her hand and placed another on her waist, before gently leading her along the dance floor. In her mind, Helena pretended it was Felicia who was wearing such a fine gown and leading her along to the pleasant tunes....

[NPC]

They swooped upon the crowd like thin clouds from the sky. Ghosts, they could be called, but they were more sheer than ghosts; translucent, passing through everything living and leaving death behind. The flowers upon the walls and around the hall withered; the torches went out; the dancers, so jovial and friendly at first, now rolled their heads back and loosened their grips, falling away from their dance partners. And, indeed, even their dance partners were not spared; the sorrow that spread across the palace took all from it, every breath, every beating heart, every smile, every note from the cheerful lute that had played such beautiful tunes, and the voices that sang along with it; all was silent as still as though it had never been disturbed and never would be again.

~~~fin NPC~~~

[Helena Rahal]

It felt like all the light and happiness in the world was suddenly and violently snuffed out. Everything that had ever held promise, that was seen as a good and wonderful thing was like a distant memory. It passed in but a few seconds but the world had gone dreadfully cold and dark in those seconds. Helena could feel herself losing her grip on her dance partner and her own body deciding to simply lay down against the cold floor. There was no reason to get up, there was no more reason to live. The light of the world was snuffed out, the life in her as well.

FIN Helena