anyone's ghost @ariel-rosenberg - Tumblr Blog

montgomeried‌:

upon discovering that she was invited to the host’s lavish manor, anastasia’s reaction was more apathetic than anything else. while she did enjoy mingling with others at times, it grew quite tiring having to put on a mask of intrigue and pretending she was curious about every single trifle the other elites around her always talked about. when she arrived though, it was soon discovered that the host had invited a colorful cast of characters — some fitting into the typical crowd she would socialize with, others far below her in the class system. even a familiar face or two had managed to make an appearance.

anastasia craved some type of occurrence that would liven things up a bit, and it seemed as if her prayers were answered after the mysterious disappearance of mrs. alberts — not that she wished any ill will on the woman in the slightest, but it did get the house buzzing a bit… especially with the message on the wall. as the sportsman began to take charge of the situation, she watched groups of people disappear into the woods while she stayed behind to see them off. perhaps she could do a bit of investigating on her own too while the others were gone, specifically an investigation that didn’t involve anastasia getting her custom tailored dress dirty.

she walked through the ancient halls, fingers gently grazing the walls as she took note of the paintings and decor. the socialite only stopped when she came across someone else who had also made the decision to stay behind, apparently. “ not a fan of the outdoors either, i presume ? ” she smiled. “ ah, don’t misunderstand though. i do worry for the safety of mrs. alberts, but the search party seems very much capable. someone like me would only slow the rest down. ” a poor excuse for not wanting to join, really, but she hoped it would suffice. most would consider the task to be a man’s job anyways. “ would you care to join me for a cup of tea while we wait for some good news ? ”

Though Ariel was wont to indulge Mr. Bithell’s every whim (as though it was Ariel’s indulgence to offer), he did grow tired of the constant parade of faces traipsing through Dryden. Though it was a pleasure to see the Manor being used, and appreciated, it also required a great deal more maintenance. The busier it got, the more stressed Ariel became; he had already snapped at several members of the household staff. It was his own temper at fault, not their crimes of improperly dusted cornices or poorly stored plates, but he found himself unable to hold back.

A guest had never gone missing from Dryden before, and Ariel didn’t know how to respond. Any minor household mishaps he could deal with, but a missing person? Far outside his scope, and Ariel hated feeling unhelpful.

At least, with many of the guests out on a search party, Ariel had a little space to breathe. He was going from floor to floor, carefully winding the clocks and brushing imperceptible specks of dust from the pendulums. And he was not, it would seem, the only person pacing these hallways. Miss Montgomery, whom Ariel understood to be the envy of many of the ladies that worked within Dryden: her exquisite clothes were often the talk of the scullery.

“As you wish, Miss Montgomery,” Ariel said, sweeping a bow. It was a little eccentric for a lady to take tea with the butler, but when you work for Sebastian Bithell, you grow accustomed to eccentricity. “I will have one of the maids prepare tea at once. But I implore you not to be so hard on yourself; I know of no one better equipped than a lady such as yourself to notice the small details that might lead to Mrs. Alberts recovery. However, Mr. Blithell would not dream of asking a lady to explore the moors after dark. You are quite right to remain here.”

As he spoke, Ariel lead them towards the drawing room, where a fire burned merrily and tea might be taken in comfort. A maid passed, and Ariel instructed her to bring tea in his usual brisk manner that he took with the other staff.

#the socialite

blackburnedholly‌:

Perhaps the butler was a better person than she - the concern written plainly over his face, the weight in his words… Holly found her heart sinking. Until this very moment, Holly had been entertaining herself almost in a cruel way, speculating about the possibilities, and letting her mind run off without being carefully realistic about the true severity of what was at stake. What could be lurking behind the obvious. “Oh, no, please - pardon me. Of course you’ve been worried. Likely worried sick. I have no ill will towards you, and you have no need to beg for my forgiveness.”

Now further into the room, Holly’s eyes did another subtle sweep of the place. She, too, was curious if the woman left any traces behind of her current whereabouts, any little hidden secrets stashed away. Inky letters, a skeleton key - ah, but there she went again. Spinning a fairy-tale into a situation that was all too real. “Actually, I -” Holly bit her lip, stopping short. It felt wrong to sit in a chair that was in the room of someone missing, so she continued to stand, suddenly feeling out of place in Mrs. Alberts room. Finally, her eyes found that of the butler’s once more, and she released her chapped lip from her teeth to start again. This time, she prepared herself, chin jutting out slightly.

“I’d like to assist you, if you’d allow it. I understand it’s a bit… unorthodox,” Holly simplified the nature of her request, which could be boiled down to a desire to snoop around with him. “However, given the circumstances, a second pair of eyes may be helpful. Besides - should a guest really be alone at a time like this? I was headed to my room, but…”

Ah, a twinge of guilt - Holly felt a bit as if she were playing up some notion of fragility, for she felt little when it came to actual fear, and more a peculiar intrigue and desire to know more.

Unorthodox was one way of putting it. Quite improper was another. Ariel ought not to have been snooping, and Holly certainly ought not to allow it, let alone encourage it. He knew his place, and it was not for him to go through a guest’s belongings.

Really, it was the job of the police. But Ariel couldn’t shake the feeling that they had to try and fix this without police involvement. To call them out somewhere so remote as Dryden would cause quite a stir, and he really couldn’t abide the thought of rumours beginning to form. He hadn’t spent this many years polishing and dusting and tidying only for one errant guest to spoil his hard work. The manor deserved better. Ariel deserved better. Mr. Bithell deserved better.

Perhaps propriety went out the window the moment a guest went missing. Ariel hesitated just for a moment, laying the embroidery aside and straightening the pristine ivory fingers of his gloves, before he inclined his head. The gesture was somewhere between a nod and a bow, as Ariel so often toed the line between sociability and diffidence.

“Very good, miss. I suspect you are quite right; it wouldn’t do to risk another guest getting lost.” As Ariel spoke, he shifted the embroidery into the sewing basket, laying it this way and that. Somehow he wasn’t satisfied with the way that it sat. Cleaning and tidying wasn’t strictly within the scope of his duties, thank heavens -- his gloves would never survive. But he found himself rearranging things often, desperately seeking out the most appealing arrangement. When things were amiss, it left a heavy, taut feeling in his gut. “Were you close with Mrs. Alberts?”

The question could be explained away under the guise of small talk, but Ariel did hope that Miss Blackburn might know the woman. Ariel was not in a position to be close to any of the guests, and he’s aware that he is going in rather blind here. He doesn’t know Mrs. Alberts, so how would he know if something is out of place? He is simply hoping; keeping himself busy, because that is what he does best.

#the fiancee

blackburnedholly‌:

Much like the butler’s idea of searching uninterrupted, away from worried and prying eyes, Holly had been quietly walking through the manor with a new perspective at play. Her eyes lingered on shadows, brow furrowed, and skipped past dark corridors whenever her nerves got the best of her. She was nearing the sleeping quarters of the manor, waving off a staff member who expressed their concern with a deceitful ‘I just need to lie down for a spell’. The lack of sun in Conway gave her a natural ghostly shade of pale, and the recent horror of the ominous message didn’t help things - yet it was intrigue and adrenaline that kept Holly’s feet padding down the hall, past her own humble room.

Gingerly, Holly pressed two fingers into the partially ajar door to Mrs. Alberts room, watching with baited breath as the door slowly swung open on the frame. To her surprise - it was the butler who turned to greet her, wide eyed and a little guilty looking, in the entrance to the bedroom.

At first, Holly bought the lie - why would she not? As her lips parted to mutter some folly excuse of her own, she caught sight of a couple of clues that suggested he may not be so honest. Laundry still draped over the lounge, soot left in the fireplace, a stray under garment strung from a bed post, and of course - the work of craftsmanship in his eyes.

Holly’s eyes narrowed. “Are you?” She blurted, hoping it didn’t come across as too unkind. At this moment, she took the liberty of stepping into the room, hands clasped behind her back. “Besides, I believe you mean if. If she returns.”

It sounded, to Ariel, like an accusation. Not an unfounded one, either. Holly is quite right, he’s not simply tidying up. He’d rather hoped that she would let him get away with it, but of course she’s right not to.

His mouth picked up in an almost imperceptible smile as she says ‘if’ like that. It’s not funny, really, but the morbidity of it is amusing. The whole situation is so ghastly, and Ariel had been so thoroughly on edge since Mrs. Alberts went missing, that he experiences almost an hysterical sense of amusement. His face is carefully schooled into an appropriate expression, because he doesn’t want Miss Blackburn to get the wrong idea. Ariel is as appalled as anyone; perhaps more so.

The answer he wants to give is stilled in his mouth for a moment. Honesty, propriety, fighting for dominance. Ariel is a naturally honest person, but in this case, the truth is not proper. As it is wont to do, though, nature wins out in the end.

“Indeed. If.” he said. Ariel prefers to try for optimism, but he rarely disagrees with guests. “...Well,” he begins, hesitant. “I hope you won’t think too poorly of me, miss, but I thought there might be some hint, some sign as to where Mrs. Alberts has gone. It is not my place, of course. I beg you forgive my intrusion -- I was simply overcome by worry.” Poor Mrs. Alberts, he thought, would not survive very well on her own out there, and the Host would be just crushed if anything were to happen to one of their guests.

#the fiancee

parlcrtricks‌:

“i would suggest,” the darkness is disrupted two-fold: once (and firstly, as it implies): with her voice, and second with the glow of candlelight, both of which slip through the illusion of solitude and emptiness on this dark, cold night like a pair of young dancers side-stepping between closed stage curtains. the woman herself arrives third, with her dark hair and deep velvet. “not taking another step.” her hand, like one that is used easy casualty, rests flat-palmed on the individual’s shoulder before passing. “that -” the lantern, now raised, casts its light over a thin serpentine tail like a pointed and gentle finger. the snake is mere inches from the other’s foot. “is an adder. not particularly bothersome to us usually, mind you, but - could you hold that? -” clio absently extends her torch towards her companion before she slowly bends into a crouch. one should always be level with a small creature. nobody likes looking up. “in possession of a particularly unkind bite, to say the least.”

Ariel is not overly fond of being touched, but he is too attached to his job, and too respectful of the Host’s guests, to say anything; and in the end, fortunately, the touch is fleeting, simply enough to stop Ariel from taking another step. He hadn’t intended on coming far, only enough to do a final sweep of the grounds before preparing the Manor for the evening. Yet it would seem it was far enough to stumble into an adventure of his own. Ariel froze, stiff and unmoving, as the adder slithers through the damp grass.

He was somewhere between admiring, repelled, and fascinated by Miss Anjana’s confidence in stooping to inspect the creature. Ariel would assuredly not be getting that close. He takes the lantern -- she doesn’t give it over particularly politely, but Ariel is accustomed to such behaviour -- and looks very fixedly at the horizon, determined not to look at the offending creature. “How does one kill it?” he asks, voice taut. “This won’t do at all. I won’t have snakes in the grounds.”

Ariel would have to speak with the Groundskeeper about this. It was, no doubt, a failing on their part that a snake had wormed its way in.

#the merchant

erkundcn‌:

Heavy footfall is muted by his socks as he thunders down the manor’s main staircase and into the lobby. Practically jumping off the bottom step, he greeted those assembled for the search party with an easy grin and slipped his way quickly into the conversation.

“Let’s be honest, shall we?” He began, shifting his weight onto one foot and lifting the other to begin pulling on a well-worn leather boot. “The old dear cannot have gotten far. Perhaps –” Here he paused, swapping to pull the second boot onto his other foot as he hopped in place. “Perhaps we’ll find her in the direction of the nearest village? Even if we assume she left in some confused state, that seems the most sensible course of action.” Finally, with both feet upon the ground, he clapped his hands together and smiled brightly once again. Content to overrule the Sportsman’s ego driven leadership, he quite frankly believed his own theories and expertise would make him a far better suit for the job, as his overtures reflected. “So, who is joining me?”

In a way, Ariel rather pities Mr. Baumgärtner. As Ariel understands it, he had been the centre of a rather nasty scandal. It seems to him that Mr. Baumgärtner has perhaps come here, to a place so remote, to hide from it. Hiding did not seem to be in his nature, as he thunders down the stairs and seems rather eager to take a leadership position, but then, Ariel supposes that is often how one licks one’s wounds: from behind a mask.

Finding a missing person would do wonders for a person’s reputation. Perhaps that explains the eagerness. Far be it from Ariel to stand in the way of someone’s ambitions. He may never live out his own dreams, but he could still find a little vicarious happiness.

“A fine idea, sir,” Ariel agreed, nodding at Ludwig’s suggestion that the party ought to strike out in the direction of the nearest village. “I must remain at the Manor, of course. It wouldn’t do for Mrs. Alberts to return only to find a cold hearth. But I am confident that with a man of experience such as yours at the forefront, she will be quickly found. Do you have everything you need to travel safely? The marshlands can be treacherous at this time of year.”

Ariel was prone to fretting. Largely his fussing was reserved for the Host, and the other staff, but he would not tolerate guests coming to any harm, either. Mrs. Alberts may be in danger, but if a search party strikes out ill-equipped and comes to some harm, Ariel wouldn’t easily forgive himself.

#the explorer

@blackburnedholly

He had told the Host, time and time again, that they must be more discerning with whom they invite to Dryden. And time and time again, the Host proceeds to ignore this advice. As is only right and proper; it is not really Ariel’s place to ask questions or offer his opinions. The Host, he imagines, suffers Ariel’s nagging in the same way that Ariel suffers their naive generosity: fondly.

Yet that fondness made it no easier to tolerate Mrs. Alberts going missing. There were two possibilities: the Host had invited a madwoman into the house that was determined to be the centre of attention, or the Host had invited a madperson into the house that had done something unthinkable. The result, either way, was the same, and Ariel was irritated. Did he not work tirelessly to make Dryden a place of beauty, and respect?

He took it as a personal insult that anyone would sully the Manor so.

It was why Ariel had taken it upon himself to rifle through Mrs. Alberts’ things. Whether she was culprit or victim, there may be some clue left behind, and with many of the Manor’s residents out looking for the woman, Ariel thought he might look undisturbed.

It was not to be. Hearing a rustle of rich clothing, Ariel turned about with a half-done piece of embroidery that Mrs. Alberts had been working on held between finger and thumb. Damn. Miss Blackburn, soon to be married off to some man that was set to join them. Ariel made it his business to know everyone in Dryden, even if they knew him only as a background character: nameless, formless, butler. Laying the embroidery down, Ariel swept an elegant bow. "Miss Blackburn. I was tidying up madame’s room so that it might be ready for her return.”

It was a poor lie, delivered smoothly. Miss Blackburn would likely see that he was snooping, were she not a fool, but Ariel would do himself no favours in admitting the truth.

#the fiancee

ezra miller gif pack

below the cut you will find #52 gifs of ezra miller as they appear in madame bovary (2014). they are HQ(ish), medium, and textless, and all made from scratch. please, do not edit or redistribute without permission. be sure to reblog/like this post if it helps you!