As he moved through the room, his attention shifted from face to face, each one briefly illuminated by the glow of their phone screens - the only source of light at present, since without them they’d all be stood in the dark - eventually, however, his focus locked onto one face in particular, one that caused Nico to change his course of direction entirely as he moved towards Celestina. He reached for her hand without a word or care for who she was stood with, giving a gentle pull so she'd move into him as well as with him. His voice was low, quiet enough for just her to hear as he leaned in, "I need you with me, can't keep you safe if you're not."
Yacht Party with Emiliano De La Cruz @emilianodelacruz
Not a patient woman by nature, Imani had found her frustration rising with each second them remained trapped inside. More incensed by the inconvenience of it all than concerned about any threat of violence. The whole situation could be helped if people just stayed still, their constant toing and froing doing nothing but add fuel to her fire. Things only got worse when a heavy foot landed on her open toed heel, jaw tightening as she stifled the pain. "Maybe it'd be helpful if we all just stayed were we were. The doors have been tried already." For once she had to work to sound reasonable and friendly, irritation almost cracking her polished tone. Had she been completely unrecognisable there might have been a temptation for a sharp remark, or a jab about their clumsiness, but she'd worn her mask too well for too many years to let it slip now. With a supressed sigh she gathered herself, tone friendlier the next time she tried. "But here, at least have some light if you're trying to find someone." With a smooth movement she pulled out her phone, using the flashlight to help them move past her without any more of her toes being casualties. But they were unsteady on their feet, likely still drunk from earlier and staggering towards her. Reflexively she stepped back, her shoulder colliding with someone else's and eyes closed briefly as she prepared to apologise with sweet, smooth tones. "Sorry, I was trying to avoid more trodden toes but it seems like I've just traded them for bruised shoulders."
It had only been minutes since she'd finally located Nolan, barely halfway into her tipsy inspired ribbing of him when the alarm had rang, cutting into her off the cuff monologue. "Saved by the bell." Except none of her teasing had actually managed to be severe, it was an expression of affection if someone knew to read into it well enough. As the masses shuffled towards the room they were to gather in she couldn't help but make disparaging noises at the crowd, impatience killing the buzz she'd built up from her hours of drinking. "Does no one know how a queue works." Eventually everyone filed in and she found a spot beside her boss, doors slamming not long after. It took her a moment to realise something was wrong as the darkness surrounded them, only panic from other people piercing through her alcohol fog to suggest this wasn't the plan. People around them started to move towards the door with little regard for whether or not they were in their path, trying to open them to no avail. "Oh yeah, everyone keep pushing. 'Coz that's gonna help." A particularly hard shove had her wobbling in her heels, grasping his arm for balance. A brief sense of vulnerability washed over her, suddenly all too aware that she had no idea what was happening nor what it meant for her. But the feeling is squashed down, reaching for a joke instead. Voice was kept nonchalant, lighter than she was feeling. "Y'know, it could be worse. At least I don't have to look at you now the lights are out."
where: post plot drop berkeley manor
who: @johnnparsons
Maria felt her body tremble, a pain resonating in her, but when she was told to go, where she couldn't fathom to watch what might unfold, her legs carried her down the hall, looking for refuge.
She managed to stumble down the hall, vision blurry by the tears that swelled in her eyes, and she could hear the voices.
"We're going to die."
"Everyone get down."
"Is she dead?"
"Fuck, we need to get her out of here."
The screams haunted her dreams, but it was always painted in red, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore the intrusions, they never left.
Her back pushed into a nook down a hallway that held some semblance of quietness, sliding down to her ass, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Make it stop...." She mumbles to herself, hating that she finally gave into her demons, facing buried into her knees.
At first Eleanor thought it was some sort of sick joke-- just a horror movie flickering on the giant screen. It only took her a moment as gasps and growls filled the air to realize this hell was all too real. She didn't even know the person that was butchered and tortured, but her stomach churned at the sight, and the thought of how their last moments on earth had been spent.
It reminded her that despite the bubble she had been exiled to when it came to the different factions of their city, there were some honest-to-God monsters among them. Some in this very room. Eleanor had always the mind-set that if someone were nice to her she had no right to not be the same unless given reason to be wary. That was now out the window. Even if she didn't have a target on herself, Eleanor wasn't sure who to trust, either.
Feeling like the indulgences of the evening were about to be all over the floor if she didn't leave, Eleanor swiftly fled the room, but tried not to cause a disturbance. The last thing she wanted was attention to her weakness. Finding the nearest bathroom that she could, Eleanor drew her hair up and out of her face, just in case.
Her hands trembled and her body felt too weak to even rid herself of the churning contents. Instead, Eleanor tried to calm herself with several splashes of water to the face; uncaring if it ruined the make-up she had spent so much time on just hours before. When she had been kind of excited for the night and the awards she was up for. When there was still a sliver of optimism that everyone could gather for once without any bloodshed.
Clenching the edge of the countertop in desperation, Eleanor silently prayed. She prayed that her and everyone else would get out of that place unharmed. Especially those she cared the most about. That footage would haunt her in nightmares to come, but even worse, it made her think about Henri.
Had his murderer killed him him in one clean shot? Or was he tortured until beaten to a bloody pulp? She had been spared the details of his death save from it being a gunshot wound, but had always wondered what really went down. The very idea that some heathen could have taken Henri's sweet soul in a similar manner brought Eleanor to her knees, sobbing. It was all her fault. Not even her hands were clean anymore.
The blonde's breathing escalated, making it difficult to even think, but Eleanor knew she needed to escape. Or search for her loved ones and make sure they were safe. By the time she slipped out of the bathroom, footsteps rattled the mansion. Some she was sure were scattering to hide - others may have been hunting. Hanging out in the small guest bathroom was not an option, even if no one cared to come after her. It was too far to slip outside, nor was it an option when her friends and family were trapped inside. She couldn't lose any others in her life.
Bright eyes misted over with the burn of salty tears, as Eleanor high-tailed it to the kitchen, hoping it might be a harmless place to make camp. That the worst she might stumble upon would be a pissed off chef barking orders at his staff. However the place was silent. Eerily silent. Spotting a kitchen knife on the butcher block, Eleanor quietly took the weapon just in case it was necessary. She really didn't think she would be on anyone's radar. Then, again, maybe the guy in the video hadn't been either.
Eleanor had always been told to never hide somewhere you couldn't escape. Not to allow someone to back you into a corner. Yet, at the sound of footsteps she realized there were only two options for her. The pantry, or freezer. Neither were a great choice, but as voices grew louder she knelt to the floor and crawled her way into the roomy cupboard, thankful for the door that hid her away from sight. The thin crack in the heavy wood allowed her a small peek of the shadows wandering around the room.
Unfortunately for Eleanor, she couldn't make out a word. They could have been civilian wait staff, or fellow innocents trying to hide like herself. Everything sounded like a rampant buzzing. But she couldn't chance it. Shaking fingers curled around the handle of the knife in preparation. The jolt of her phone vibrating with texts from Lara and Samar asking if she was alright made her jump slightly, and she fished her phone out of her handbag to respond and let them know not to come to the kitchen for her. She couldn't take a chance on losing either of them.
Both texts were unsent, for the slam of something in the kitchen (perhaps the freezer door or door to the room itself, she wasn't sure) slammed with impressive strength. Out of anger or frustration... or hell-- knowing this crowd, they may have hid a body in there. The force was so fierce that it not only literally shook Eleanor, but the pantry shelves as well, causing several of the cans and items to rain down on her. Eleanor narrowly dodged a jar of spaghetti sauce as it shattered to the ground, dousing the floor and her dress in what looked like blood.
Eleanor tried to avoid the shards of glass that now sprinkled the floor, which distracted her from one last scuffle of a few spare pans careening to the floor. The very last one, as if a magnet to her, rammed Eleanor into the head on the way down.
Eleanor's phone and knife skittered across the floor as her body slumped, succumbing to the shroud of temporary darkness and unconsciousness.
