Definitely made a wrong turn at Albequerque
William had been driving most of the day. The special necroglass on the windows of his car had cost a small fortune but it was definitely worth it. He'd made a wrong turn somewhere, he just knew it. Nothing looked like what it should. And when he tried to look behind him, something stopped him, somehow.
It was then that he saw it. A familiar building in a little valley. The peaks and gambrels and gingerbread-work were so heart-tugglingly familiar he had to pull up to it and stop. The sun was setting, so he waited in his car and watched. Every passing minute he was more sure it wasn't a coincidence, seeing his boyhood home suddenly sitting in a strange place. He hadn't seen it since he left England so many years ago.
When the sun had set, he stepped out of the car and closed the door. He paused at the gate, unsure of whether or not he should step inside. He almost lost his nerve, and turned to head back to his car. Only it wasn't there. Nor was the road he'd driven in on. He blinked, and turned back. Something was definitely wrong here. Well, nothing to be gained by standing here like an idiot.
He walked up to the door. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside. It was exactly as he remembered it. The faint smell of rosewater and beeswax candles and gaslight, the well-kept but worn furniture. He ran his fingers over the back of the chair his mother used to sit in as she did her embroidery and listened to his dreadful poetry.
There was the sound of footsteps in another room. William looked up, his senses trying to identify who it was. The person didn't sound or smell familiar. He waited warily for someone to step inside. It was a young girl in a drab victiorian maid's outfit. She didn't seem to notice him, but started dusting.
"Hello?" William said. "Who are you, luv?" But the woman didn't answer or even look at him. She kept doing her dusting, He moved closer and noticed she smelled like death. Not like a vampire, just dead. He was more than a little unnerved, and he stepped back outside. He looked at the other buildings. Then his eyes locked on the bar. A drink, that would do nicely about now. And bars were always a good place to find out information.
(ooc: not sure who's still in the bar)
It was then that he saw it. A familiar building in a little valley. The peaks and gambrels and gingerbread-work were so heart-tugglingly familiar he had to pull up to it and stop. The sun was setting, so he waited in his car and watched. Every passing minute he was more sure it wasn't a coincidence, seeing his boyhood home suddenly sitting in a strange place. He hadn't seen it since he left England so many years ago.
When the sun had set, he stepped out of the car and closed the door. He paused at the gate, unsure of whether or not he should step inside. He almost lost his nerve, and turned to head back to his car. Only it wasn't there. Nor was the road he'd driven in on. He blinked, and turned back. Something was definitely wrong here. Well, nothing to be gained by standing here like an idiot.
He walked up to the door. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside. It was exactly as he remembered it. The faint smell of rosewater and beeswax candles and gaslight, the well-kept but worn furniture. He ran his fingers over the back of the chair his mother used to sit in as she did her embroidery and listened to his dreadful poetry.
There was the sound of footsteps in another room. William looked up, his senses trying to identify who it was. The person didn't sound or smell familiar. He waited warily for someone to step inside. It was a young girl in a drab victiorian maid's outfit. She didn't seem to notice him, but started dusting.
"Hello?" William said. "Who are you, luv?" But the woman didn't answer or even look at him. She kept doing her dusting, He moved closer and noticed she smelled like death. Not like a vampire, just dead. He was more than a little unnerved, and he stepped back outside. He looked at the other buildings. Then his eyes locked on the bar. A drink, that would do nicely about now. And bars were always a good place to find out information.
(ooc: not sure who's still in the bar)