wake this city.

[rhiannonaudwood]

buricdalive​:

He watched her stumble over her words briefly before he took another step forward. Eyeing her surroundings, Elijah nodded at her question. “Oh, you know. Mostly feel like every time I come to this manor someone dies so…” 

Oh, now he sounded insensitive. “Sylvia was a recruit when I was VP, and Henry Perkins… my freshman year,” he clarified.

Rhiannon laughed, then quickly stopped. “I probably shouldn’t have laughed, it’s not funny. It’s very Gilchrist though.” There was no way the manor didn’t carry a curse. No matter what the administration said, something wasn’t right here. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have to deal with covering things up?” Perhaps not the right way to phrase it, but call a spade a spade. “We mustn’t have overlapped then. I graduated in ‘16.”

[rhiannonaudwood]

santiagols​:

Santiago heard the shuffling of papers and a laptop closing shut as he walked by someone, which did make him chuckle a little. “Don’t worry, I don’t need much.” He waved the woman speaking to him off and then proceeded to carefully pull a chair out for himself. After resting his cane on the side of the table, he took a seat. “I’m sorry, your voice sounds familiar. Did we share some classes?”

A shaky smile fell on Rhiannon’s face. She recognized Santiago, even if she couldn’t place his name right now, and she was glad he had a similar recognition. Otherwise that would just be awkward, not that she was any stranger to awkward interactions. It was just how she was. Even within the Gravediggers, she felt on the peripherals at times since she wasn’t as vocal. And of course she was one of the last few classes before it was disbanded, and that felt like people inherently held a grudge... or maybe that was all in her head. “I think so. Rhiannon, I graduated in ‘16.”

[rhiannonaudwood]

islaherveaux​:

“All night..? Oh no, I got here after breakfast,“ she told the other woman as she fixed her robe. “I had a waffle and then the next thing I knew I was here and… Anyway.” She yawned, noticing she was still getting looks given her outfit of choice. Whatever. “But aren’t you such a doll? Oh, I am perfectly fine but… Well, I won’t say not o a good samaritan wanting to share their painkillers with me, if you do have any. My head is fucking killing me.”

“You came down in that after breakfast?” Rhiannon knew her cheeks tinted pink - a little embarrassed on her friend’s behalf. It was very much her style, sure, it didn’t mean that Rhi had to like it. “Uh, let’s see.” She picked up her purse, shifting through it, “I have Advil.” Late nights writing meant minimal sleep and the resulting headaches. “Does that work?” She pulled a chair up to sit across from Isla. It was always nice to have someone who overlapped around that she could commiserate with, even if Isla’s temperament was dialed up way more than Rhiannon ever could dream of.  

[rhiannonaudwood]

buricdalive​:

Elijah had been making his way back to the records room in the library, minding his own business, when he heard someone picking up and shuffling about. His pace slowed as she spoke, and he turned to face her as though he’d been meaning to walk by here the entire time. “We’re all a little on edge, huh?” he asked, cracking a smile.

Rhi mostly recognized Elijah from the past few days around the manor, she was pretty sure they hadn’t overlapped at all during college - but she didn’t want to make the faux paux of asking such and being wrong. “I... Yes? Surprisingly, I slept wonderfully last night.” Her lips curled in a cringe after realizing how insensitive it sounded. “Not that I’m happy about what happened to Francis, to be clear... What about you? How are you feeling?”

[rhiannonaudwood]

@gdopens​

A mysterious disappearance, a murder that was somehow predicted (or was that a set up), a bunch of brooding adults who were suddenly back in the student mindset... The return to Gilchrist was everything she hoped for in reigniting her creative spark. Was it crossing a line to use an unsolved murder as inspiration? Was it even a murder? Rhiannon wasn’t too sure, but she knew that she was going to write down everything she found before it escaped her memory.

“Oh, sorry...” She scooped her papers back up, closing her laptop as another person passed by. “I’m taking up so much space, how silly. You’re welcome to sit.” If she was cordial, no one would point fingers, right?

[vincenteu]

Matthew had expected his return to Gilchrist to be overwhelming, to test him in ways that it always had even when he was happy to be there. But it hadn’t even been a week yet and already he had found himself in tears - his pillows stained with the salty droplets of his misery. Despite the message he’d received from his father earlier that day, thanking him for the money and expressing just how important it was to the bakery that he’d sent it when he had, Matty still felt a deep seated unease.

Having had the day to ruminate on the newest bombshell, Matthew felt it was time to turn to the only way he knew how to deal with things - art. He’d seen others doing the same already but for him it had always been a solitary act, one that he used as the final expression of his feeling instead of the first reaction to emotions. This was how he would finally come to terms with the news and find the presence within himself to continue with whatever was to come next.

Into a small backpack he slid a sketchbook, his trusted pencil-case and set off to find the spot he thought best. Matthew walked the halls of the manor as if he were lost, letting his mind wander to the memories he held of Mr Gilchrist. Finally he settled in the grand entrance hall with it’s sculptures and exhibitions - recalling a memory from his first year with the Gravediggers. He had been in awe of the splendor of the manor, it was nothing like anything he had access to before and like an excited child in a sweet shop he had been taking in all the wonderful pieces of work when he heard the light cough from the balcony above. Mr Gilchrist himself stood, looking down at him with a look that to this day Matthew still never understood. 

Now, he sat himself down in a quiet spot looking up at that balcony once again and began sketching. Drawing upon the memory that was now tinged with the greying of the manor for which the care seemed to have slipped. Working in his own bubble, as he always did once he started on a new piece, Matty had no concept of how long it had been when the person stepped into his light. “Excuse me sorry, you’re blocking me light.” He spoke before looking up, his eyes trying to hide the overwhelming emotions he was feeling inside. “I don’t need you to leave just, take a step to the side or something please. I need to see that spot specifically.” He gestured up towards the section he had been sketching in immaculate detail - showing the person who now stood above him the sketchbook quickly. “I’m not in the way down here am I?” Matty asked, unsure if the person had stopped because him being sat on the floor had been a problem.

@gdopens​

[rhiannonaudwood]

The Gravediggers all shared an unspoken bond, yes, that was why she had joined in the first place. Well, one of many reasons. To be connected to people without having to do more than bring up their shared society. However, she always found it easiest to flock to those whom she overlapped with at school. Especially those of the same year. “Apologies.” Her gaze looked up at the way the sunlight flickered through the balcony. The halls of the manor sat eerily frozen in time, and she recognized every little piece. The way the setting was so burned into her brain that she’d ripped elements of it - including this very balcony - for her own work.

“No, you’re fine.” She stepped away from the light to settle in a more shadowy spot. “I like coming here to reset.” It was true as a student, and it was even truer now. “It feels like an oasis, stuck in the past. How are you holding up with the news?”

[islaherveaux-deactivated2020100]

@gdopens​ 🍆: hoeness 101: by professor herveaux

God, she was so fucking BORED. While everyone else cried and talked about how upset they were and pretended the old man had kicked the bucket, Isla was busy nursing a hangover, courtesy of all she drank thanks to how everyone was annoying her. She had ended up on a random sofa after breakfast, still wearing the risky outfit she had decided to surprise people at breakfast with, Isla was still lying on the couch when she noticed someone has approached her.

“Unless you are here to let me blow you or know someone that needs that, I do not care about what you have to say.“

[rhiannonaudwood]

Death was never something that Rhiannon had taken lightly. It was tragic, sad,mysterious, a whole host of emotions and not one of them were positive. The unexplained nature of Francis’s passing made it sting more, but even she had to admit - her personal connection with the man wasn’t that strong. Yes, she owed him the world for the opportunities that the Gravediggers and Gilchrist had given her. It didn’t make him any more of a prominent figure, rather, more of a figment. Like Santa Claus. 

Isla appeared to be one of the others that wasn’t just wallowing about, and that was refreshing - except the bluntness of her statement made Rhiannon’s cheeks flush. “No... Neither of the above. I wanted to see if you were okay. Have you been sleeping here all night?”

[bestofbennet]

[rhiannonaudwood]

Hi everyone! My name’s Rebecca and I’m so excited to write with you all. Read all about bookish, secret revealing Rhiannon below. TLDR: A meek and mild girl, Rhiannon joined the Gravediggers to try and force herself to have a foundation and make new friends. As a writer, she used the initiation and stories of the society to help inspire her works (both school papers and her debut novel). While some think this means she’s got loose lips, she thinks it’s just using inspiration from the shared experiences. She’s back to try and show that she’s genuine...but not without getting some inspiration for novel two. ---

Before Gilchrist: Always a 'clever' girl, Rhiannon found herself living with an overactive imagination and falling into worlds of her own creation quite frequently. She likened herself to Alice, living in her own wonderland, drawing and writing up fantastical lore day in and day out. What started as a cute habit became the start of her introversion. Why put in the work to build friendships if you could literally build your own? Her parents worried about her, pushing her to enroll in clubs and sports to try and be "like the other kids". She'd managed to forge a few friendships, but she always felt like she was on the periphery - even in her own life. People would describe her as observant and curious, but she knew that was just code for awkward. Instead of starting or maintaining conversations, she was the kind of person to just sit and stare.

At Gilchrist:

The chance to leave her hometown of Vancouver was something that Rhiannon always dreamed of. In her own worlds, the beautiful colors and splendor of nature were something she wanted instead of the seemingly endless expanse of ocean and mountain surrounding her. College in another locale was a safe, easy way to do it. There was built in forced interaction with people so she wouldn't be fully alone, but there was also the opportunity to be in a place where no one knew her name. There were no expectations. Making friends took too far of a backseat for her, and by her second semester, Rhi realized that she was much lonelier than she ever had been before. Sororities were too intimidating, so she decided to join the Gravediggers. It was a foundation that could make it easy for her to connect people for the rest of her life. Of course, initiation and the cultish antics of the society haunted her. Leaving her scarred and traumatized - but too frozen to leave (much like a deer in the headlights), so she did all she knew how to do. She wrote. Wrote in her personal journal, her short stories, and even in her fiction classes. She thought that didn't break any rules, after all, everything was 'fictionalized' and almost too outlandish to believe. Others accused her of leaking secrets, of putting the sanctity of the group at risk. In fact - some even accused her of leading to the downfall.

After Gilchrist The cheerful young girl that entered Gilchrist graduated as a hardened soul that was jaded by the realities of life and death. So she went somewhere else to start the foundations of her life. Ediburgh wasn't too far if she ever wanted to visit, but it was a city where she could hide. After years of failed manuscripts, she grew weary of working hours upon hours at cafes and bars to barely make ends meet. What better inspiration than dipping back into her past? The world agreed. Her debut novel 'Cemetaries' about a mysterious cult was a smashing success... The truth was stranger than fiction, but the rest of the world thought it was only fiction. Little did they know about where the inspiration came from. She's returned to try and set the record straight about being a squeaky wheel. All she did was use reality to build inspiration for her works, no one got hurt, and it wasn't her fault the society got shut down... but maybe a return could provide some inspiration for novel number two.