"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest."
....Or Have They!?
What can I say, I missed Ellen, and I wanted to write more, I'm in a better place to write mentally too. Luckily, there's not much for folk to catch up on, so get to it, and get voting!
The Great Albian Union, Artemis, The 4th of December, Quarter to 8
You are Ellen Alena Doe, you are twenty-three years old and you have always dreaded parties, get-together's, masquerades, pubcrawls, or involvement in any sort of prolonged interaction of the social variety outside of quietly sharing a room. Mother and Father often said that you became upset at such things even when you were a babe, no more than a toddling infant, and you already knew how much you hated Social Engagements. Such a clever, willful little child you were. Oh woe, if you only had that willfulness now, it might help you pick a dress!
Oh bother, bother bother.
What do you wear? What does one wear when one is 'meeting the team' as Miss Heathcliff said? It is only four people, (you had asked before leaving) not counting yourself working at the publishing company, but it shall be in a public place where all sorts of people not involved with the party will see you, and make opinions. Opinions that soon everyone will know!
The grey dress with the lace trim, or the black with red floral accents? Just The plain black with the white Pan Collar? You know your Dresses are all a bit out of Fashion, but they are far more comfortable than anything that is currently 'in', as they say. Will they hate you for it? Will Helena...? She'll probably hate you for it, what sort of Lady (and you are a Lady, as Mother often reminds you) doesn't do Fashion!?
+1 Anxiety
"Oh, brimstone and darkness! The Devil made Fashion to torture me and only me entirely, Pondy." You huff, throwing the dress to the over stuffed chair sweet Ponderous has taken up, he lets out a rolling chirp as the dress falls over him, lightly confused at your actions, his head poking out from underneath, eyes round in the warm gentle light of your gas lamp before tucking his grey body neath his new blanket with a sound like a motor. His brother Shade is elsewhere in your flat, looking for a mouse to mince, you have no doubt. You smile at his antics, and find yourself rocking gently in your shift as you looked to the unlit lamps, evenly spaced along the walls with a light frown.
The electric lights are a wonder, your Family had them installed to update the place before they gave the Townhouse for you to use. Mother and Father wanted you to have the finest and most modern amenities The House Doe could afford...but they are so often far too bright, and make an awful buzz, just at the edge of hearing. It is constant, like rain in May, and only stops when all the electrics are off. You've complained about it to Ackley, the Head Servant and Manager to the property. (The only other staff member to 34 Wood Place was Beth, who tidied up your rooms and cooked your meals, you think she is Ackley's Wife, as they shared the Servant's Apartment between themselves.) to which he'd responded "Oh yes, that, Miss! Something one gets used to, I suppose. We've been here a wee bit longer than yourself, Miss, getting her ready for you. Beth and I hardly notice it now, I assure you."
You, for reasons beyond your ken never have, or have not yet have, in the time you've lived here, 'gotten used to it' and so have gotten into the habit of keeping a few gas lamps, which fair you far better.
You stare at the dresses with an intensity you think Julia van Helsclimb would find intimidating, willing them to make the choice for you.
The Dresses Tremble in Fear at your might!
...Or rather, Ponderous shifts in place from underneath the pile with a contented feline sigh.
Oh, to be a cat, unbothered by human affairs like parties and meeting people.
"I can't do this myself, can I Ponderous? Beth will be so annoyed, told her she and her husband had the rest of the night off." You brace yourself and reach for the button that controls the Electric Bell, pressing it in. 'BZZZT!' the bell screams and you feel your shoulders tighten at the sudden harsh noise of it.
Oh you're going to hate this party, you just know it.
Unseen and unknown to you, Ellen Doe, that harried signal travels through a twist of wires to the light-board in the Servant's Apartment, a green glass bulb labeled below as 'BEDROOM' lights up, near where Ackley sits before the mantle, feet up on the foot stool of a comfortable chair, flipping though a pulp novel with the title 'THE SWARTHY WARRIOR-MEN OF AKTIKI' the cover the the paperbacked book proudly displaying a pair of muscular men, shining with oil, wearing very little and wrestling. The publication was intended to draw the eye of women, but it worked just as well for Ackley. The Light and gentle, if insistent buzz of the Electric Bell brought Ackley from his little world..
"Beth, luv, I think she's having trouble picking a dress for that little meet and greet with the publishing houses staff tonight. I'd help, dear, but I know absolutely nothing about lady things." Ackley sets his novel down as he turns to Beth in the seat opposite him.
Beth glances up from her latest project, a scarf half way to finished and a made up with embroidered pansy flowers, a particular sort flower that signaled to a particular sort of woman. "Of course ya don't, you silly little man, give us a minute and I'll go see what poor Miss Ellen needs." she teases good naturally to her best friend and play-Husband.
Ackley 'Lee' Simms and Beth Kind were married, legally. Though they didn't share a name or bed, or any affection beyond Familial. Covering for each other's proclivities in this manner kept them together as they liked and kept questions being asked in polite society. Everyone wonders after the bachelors and bachelorettes, but nobody cares about a married couple or the friends they kept. The Maid of Wood Place slips a uniform over her night clothes quickly, Lee fastening the back with a practiced motion, and takes a servant's way to the Bedroom, climbing a steep set of stairs in a hidden hallway, mentally preparing herself for Ellen's latest mood.
When the youngest daughter of House Doe wanted to move to Artemis, they had gone with her, chosen by The Family because they were married, thus, less likely to accrue scandal in the rumor mills in The Beating Heart of Albian Union, and because they were roughly the same age as Miss Ellen, whose parents desperately wanted to have something they could call friends her age, even if they weren't anywhere close to peers.
Miss Ellen, in Beth's Estimation, was a pretty enough girl, shorter than herself and a tendency to make her face far paler than was fashionable (which was an effort to hide her blushing, she'd revealed to Beth.) Her fingers and sleeves often stained by the ink ribbon of her typewriter, with a round, heart-shaped face, classical nose and dark grey eyes framed by even darker hair, she often reminded Beth of a Raven, or other clever corvid, being that Miss Ellen wasn't anywhere fierce enough to remind the Maid of a hawk, like her Mother did.
The Youngest Lady Doe was pretty, intelligent, and more concerned with hobbies and writing than for the quality of the servant's work.
A fine woman to work for, if a little...particular in ways Beth did not expect. She and Ackley hadn't worked directly for The Miss before, who had been dealt with by Gerty and Charles, the head's of staff. Beth and Ackley had been warned, of course, but it was another to experience it.
She never made eye contact, with anyone, for any reason, and would often have the same meal for days on end, with little variation until she became bored of it. She would find herself little morbid trinkets that she would have fashioned or fashioned herself into all manner of accessories and decoration for herself and the house, which once expanded to the whole of a home, could be a little upsetting at times. Beth still jumped at the articulated, and very real skeleton kept posed by the door of The Lady Doe's Office/Bedroom/Hideaway.
Indeed, The Miss's many (often macabre) fascinations that seemed to be the only things that drove away her fear, and made her act in a way Beth could call half-way normal. Get her talking about murder motivations, sequence killers, medical maladies, poets, or mythological monsters and you'd keep her busy for hours.
It was off putting, at first, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and Beth found herself understanding this intense, shy, quiet woman a little more. Ackley took it in stride far faster than Beth, who remarked that Miss Ellen reminded him of a nephew of his, who loved rocks, and very little else.
Beth waited outside the door, glanced at the Skeleton that stood guard. "Lets hope she isn't too worked up, eh?" the Maid smiled. The Skeleton smiled back, and Beth knocked.
You let Beth in after pacing for a sold minute, greeting her in your Shift, with a pile of dresses covering a very lazy Cat. "I'm so sorry about this Beth, I know I said I wouldn't need of you for the rest of the night but I was wrong. I feel very foolish."
Beth only gestures with her hand, an abortive modification, you notice, to a hand that was going to touch your shoulder to comfort you, which you're fairly sure is more casual than would be professional. "It's quite alright Miss, we're here to help you, no matter the time or the need, we certainly don't mind a little inconvenience if it helps you, Ackley and I."
Oh, bother. You've annoyed her, knowing your luck you've bothered them whilst they were...being personal. Is that what that tone means? That's what you think it means, anyway. "Again, Beth, I'm so sorry to interrupt your, uh...pleasant evening, shall we say, but I'm having real trouble with the whole..." you gesture helplessly to the pile which moves and shifts as Ponderous makes his way out and onto the floor, rubbing against your leg as if to say 'good luck, old girl.' before heading out the door.
+1 Anxiety
Beth takes in the pile of cloth with something you'd call trepidation
"Right then Miss, that's a bit of a sticky wicket, isn't it? Do you want more limited choices or do you want me to choose?" Beth The Maid inquired, the picture of calm professionalism.
"Limited choices, first, please and if that doesn't work put me in whatever you think I'd be more comfortable in. The anticipation of it is flaying my nerves worse than I expected."
It takes The Maid little time to lay out two dresses, including accessories she knows you like, and find comfort in.
[ ] The Black Dress with the White Pan Collar, a silver broach set with a real, if gilded, raven skull, earrings made from ivory, a hair pin made of hammered iron. Simple, Comfortable, Understated, Exactly Your Speed. +0 Anxiety
[ ] The Wine Red Dress with the Black Lace Shawl, a bracelet of fine ebony wood, shaped into the likeness of an ouroboros with textured scales, a lady's walking cane with an untouched Burl for the head, supposedly carved from a haunted tree, a fine top hat with red ribbon, the dress a more fashionable cut that perhaps shows more than you're used to.
A Statement, A Shield, Somewhat Out of Your Comfort Zone. +1 Anxiety
AN: CHOOSE YOUR GOTH FASHION. After this, The Party!
