#bmstarters

[a--campbell]

This library is becoming my home.. ugh.

[miss-reaganhimes]

Tedious Preparations || Event 1 || Open

Reagan had received her job a month before she was scheduled to move in, giving her a month to think about what she could do or find in the mansion she'd studied for years, now. She thought about every room in which the murders that placed this manor in criminal infamy, memorized every space the limited photographs would allow her to see. It wouldn't be hard to find the foyer in which the man and woman of the house were hung and coated in their own blood, but the daughters' room and the master bedroom have given her a bit of trouble when searching for them, for there were so many rooms and they all seemed to look uniform- either by choice of the Belvederes or by the Alstons, who must have had to make a few changes to turn the mansion into somewhere livable for their business. The attic was the location she'd thought about the most, for it was most likely the least tampered with scene from the murders that had taken place so many years ago. But, tragically, the door was locked, and Reagan hadn't yet found the opportunity to see if Miles had the key. So, she'd just have to entertain herself another way.

In all honesty, trying to find things around the manor became boring soon after she moved in, finding very little of interest. But, the blonde had come with more than a few ideas in mind, having prepared them during the month between learning of the job and arriving at the manor. People were coming to stay in a murder mystery hotel, and what fun is simply going to the shows in the ballroom nightly? Frankly, Reagan believed that would get boring quickly. Aside from the subconscious fact that Reagan seemed to derive joy from the fear of others, as others once had with her, the blonde believed she could "spice things up" to enhance the experience of the guests, to bring the murders even closer and make a more dramatic and memorable stay. And, since the festivities were not to take place for another hour or so, Reagan saw now as a perfect opportunity to prepare some of the tricks that would need a bit more time than the simple forged note.

Reagan was immediately noticed as she stepped from the carpeted first floor to the marble stairs and down to the tile floor. Her thin, tall heels, colored a sleek, metallic black, made sharp clicks as she stalked across the foyer, as if the trouble she would distribute was on a timer, and every step was a moment closer towards the release. Long, pale fingers on her right hand reached to sweep a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, exposing a lavish, yet faux-chandelier-like earring before returning to the side of her finger-tip length, slim black dress. A plastic tote hung from her left forearm as she stalked to the kitchen, filled about halfway with different supplies she would have to mix together for the weekend's mischief. She was so engrossed in the sound of her own rhythm and her thoughts of what to come, she didn't hear the sound of another pair of shoes making their way across the floor, and nearing her.