Introduction post - Ginevra Godwin

[ginevragodwin]

She stalked down the street huffily, despite her constricting skirts buffeting against the wind. Her husband was having another bad night, and Ginevra felt she'd scream if she had to bear his morose company all evening.  She'd summoned the valet to rush her into town.

The streets were quiet - everything was quiet compared to the London life she

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[illgotten]

Whichever door she eventually chooses -- leads her not to the establishment behind it but, inexplicably, into an enormous and well-lighted sitting room.

And, incidentally, face to face with a slight and harried-looking man on his way out, who swears reflexively, and then backs up a step. "Sorry," he says, and offers a hand to steady her if necessary.

[ginevragodwin]

Ginevra utters an un-ladylike phrase of her own and presses herself to the closed door. She offers a wry nod to man in front of her but refuses his offered hand. Only as she steps to the side to extract herself from between him and the entryway does she realize that she does not recognize her surroundings.

She looks out the window in confusion, expecting to see the warm lights of her hometown, but any view of the outside has been muddied by a sudden and steady rain.

Her dark eyes turn warily back towards the man she has encountered, as she wondered if that last sherry she indulged before she left WAS one too many. Though she is nearly his physical match, she gropes back toward the door "Excuse me, I must have -- wrong place..."

[illgotten]

"Yes, I'm afraid you do." He regards her with a wry, gentle expression. He's quite short, dark, carries himself better than his rough clothes would suggest. "Welcome to the Mansion. Check your logic at the door."

[ginevragodwin]

The Mansion? This character in a Mansion? Well it ~does seem illogical Ginevra thinks to herself, but she usually welcomes the unexpected. A huge clap of thunder with a moody flash of lightening makes leaving a worse option than staying to find out more.

"Does this Mansion have drinks?" She asks congenially, despite her sketchy feelings at the situation.

[illgotten]

"It's got just about everything. Kitchen's that way, cellar door on the left as you go in. Where've you come from?"

[ginevragodwin]

"London. No - Gower." She pauses. "Are we even still in Wales??" She rests her hand on a dusty shelf, and notes a bottle of brandy and a glass where she was pretty sure there was none a moment ago.

[illgotten]

He notes the gesture, with a little smile. "No. Not even close. Not even close to anywhere else, either."

[ginevragodwin]

"You seem to know this place well." Ginevra takes a practiced sip of the brandy. "You seem to be its master."

[illgotten]

He laughs aloud. "God, no! Just a veteran."

[ginevragodwin]

"A veteran? So you've been here many times before..." The woman smiles charmingly as she begins to warm to her companion. "That's reassuring. I thought for a moment I'd died and this was a strange limbo!"

(Typist OOC: If Mordred = John Stamos, I'm in love with the bastard.<-- hardy har har)

[illgotten]

"Popular theory, but no, not so far as we can figure. I've been here about two years, and it was a lot less crowded then -- not that it's exactly crowded now, but you get the idea."

typist: *SHIFTY EYES*

[ginevragodwin]

"Then we aren't the only ones here? And..." Her eyes glazed over in shock. "Two years?? by choice or..." Her gaze wanders over to the door, which she half-expects will bolt in front of her eyes.

[illgotten]

The smile twists a little. "Not exactly by choice, no. On the other hand, I wasn't doing anything else."

[ginevragodwin]

"I don't understand. What about your obligations? One can't just disappear for years at a time..."

[illgotten]

"Believe me." He offers a hand, forthrightly. "My name's Mordred. You?"

[ginevragodwin]

She takes the offered hand, unaccustomed to the forward handshake. "Ginevra. Ginette." Formalities seem silly here.