Sure thing! I just sent you a PM with your character information.

ooc;; okay, well, I am just going to start. -.-' We can first get the rp going and bring in the detective later. Right now... let's get our character socializing. =)

bic;;

A stick-thin girl strode down the halls of an Orphanage. Her feet made no noise on the ground - since there were bare except for the tape that was around them. She carried a silver platter against her hip, and was walking rather briskly. She passed by a mirror and stopped abruptly to look into it. She peered back at her reflection, dull blue eyes and all. She took her free hand that was not holding the plate and ran a slender hand through her long wavy brown hair before pivoting and continuing her walk. When she reached the main room, you could tell that a party was going on. Or rather, had been. An air of solumnness was about the Orphanage now. Ever since she had found the dead bodies of their wealthy benifactor and the headmistress and had announced it to the guests. She strode over to a long table and set the platter down, removing the cover. She set the cover beside the tray and examined the food. A delicious aroma of fudge and chocolate filled her nostrils. She smiled softly, and using the reflection in the silver tray, adjusted her name badge that was pinned upon her black and white uniform. The name tag read as so:

Alice Rivera
Maid
Byrlinton Orphanage

With a sigh she turned around and looked the crowd over. She only hoped that someone would make an attempt to liven up the place. After all, they would be stuck inside the building for a long time because the detective had to figure out who the murder was.

Matthew Rawlinson sat at the oak table, drumming his fingers impatiently. At the very least, this man who had taken control could release him. He had allies, and he could make his life miserable. As a local Bourgeoisie, his money made him an influential citizen. That, and his former career as a conscripted soldier made him a man who was unafraid to fight dirty. He could very likely take the man, gallows thief that he was, in any fight. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as the maid entered, the candlelight reflecting off the gold threads in his coat.

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Son of Bellatrix

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Emmaline Tucker let out a bored, exasperated sigh. What a party! she thought sarcastically. She had come to this party to get away from her mundane and utterly boring homelife, and also to escape from her husband. He would surely be wondering why she was so long in coming home. Whoever will he complain of his many ailments to? That thought did give her a smile. Emma grew so tired of having to sit at his bedside and listen to him whine. Alas, the trials of an arranged marriage.

She shook her head and thought of the situation at hand. So the headmistress and the wealthy benefactor, both dead.... She recalled the conversation she had overhead earlier that night. What can it mean...?

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I'm back!

Alice left the table's side and fluttered about the room, making sure that everyone was content. She happened to notice a man drumming his fingers impatiently. He was obviously from a wealthy-middle class, based on the way he was dressed. She politely curtsied to the man, "Sir, you seem troubled." She dipped her head and then rose, straightening her hem. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Drew strolled around the main room, with a haughty look on his handsome face and his hands in the pockets of his clearly patched up tuxedo, he examined the expensive furniture of the fancy orphanage. Most guests seemed obviously shocked by the news of the deaths of Miss Carter and Mister Silva. But to him it seemed that this party was finally lightening up.
"You look troubled Madame" Drew murmured softly in the ear of a beautiful looking lady. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" His hand brushed quickly past her arm while his shockingly bright eyes scanned her figure, her jewels and her face.

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O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

Emma pulled an indignant face at the man's forwardness. "Excuse me, sir," she said haughtily, turning up her nose at the obvious lowliness of the stranger, "I don't know who you think you are exactly, but I do not need you to comfort me. I can do very well on my own, thank you." Though it would be nice to have a little more interesting company than the rest of these bland bourgeoisie.

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I'm back!

"Pick a card any card" Renaldo spoke with the slight mystery to his voice as he played the deck of blood red cards across the makeshift table which was actually a nice flat rock off the side of the street. The little child picked out a card from the deck and held it up close to his eyes as if he could hide it better that way.

Renaldo had to laugh, no one could hide from him, he was a magician of course.

"Do you have the card in mind?" He asked the little boy who nodded his head and peeked over the top of the card with a sheepish smile.

"Is it the Queen of Hearts?" He said with a few hesitant pauses, dramatic effect of course.

"How'd you know!" The boy cried out with glee as he held up his card to show the people that began to gather around, some placing a bill or two on the small rock next to the cards.

"I'm Magic..." He winked before collecting the card and the money before starting his next trick.

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Renaldo Pierce did not remember why he had decided to come to the Orphanage but he was here now dressed in all black attire, from his shoes to his tie, although a striking red vest lay beneath the black jacket he wore. An equally black tophat on his crown.

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The waves that C R A S H E D upon
The R O C K S that you were trying to step along

And in my head I heard them play a S O N G

(If there is still room...may I take the Bourgeoisie 3 please?)

[[ Sure thing Nienna! =) I have PMed you with information reguarding your character. ]]

(Thank you, I have recieved your Pm)


Layla Pavlova gazed up softly at the ceiling of the orphanage, looking unusually thoughtful. She too, did not know how or why she had decided to come to the orphanage. Layla was uneasy enough coming to the orphanage and the death of Miss Carter and Mister Silva made her even more uneasy and fidgity than usual.

"But my dear Lady!" Drew exclaimed, feigning a guilt-written face. "I did not mean to insult. It just seemed that you needed some cheerfulness- I think everyone would need some now." Lights shone in his deep blue eyes, appreciating that this woman was so defensive. "My name is Gregory Blake. I'm Miss Carter's nephew."

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O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

Ten paces... ten paces... yes, it was ten after all. Ten, the magic number; ten, the number so closely entwined with these recent memories. Ten, ten, ten... the number coming back, time after time, like a persistent, level voice in his head. Frightening, this scenario was. Five, six, seven... What a bloody mess. Eight, nine, ten... ten again! Turn again, only to repeat the cycle. Everything keeps coming back to ten...

The man had a sudden urge to hold his head in his hands, yet he could not do that right now, no, not right now. He was a royal guard - Henry Porter by name - and he was assigned to stand guard outside the scene of the murder. The thought of the murder behind that closed door was nearly driving him crazy. He must stand out here, keep pacing ten steps backwards and forwards... He wondered what the people, the guests, were thinking. Of course they must be wondering why this gruesome deed had happened; everyone, himself not least of all, certainly wondered that. Oh, if only he could know precisely what went on in the minds of other people! It would have saved him a great deal of trouble right about now... yes, indeed.

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Banner from Nellie

Geoffrey sat on a heavily cushioned wing back chair that stood in the main room. He would be pacing in excitment, except that he had paced for the last hour and a half that they were stuck in this room. He was all paced out. Two murders had taken place in one night, at a party that was supposed to be pleasant. He glanced at his clock, noticing that it was far later than he had previously thought. How long would they be kept here?

Patricia Findlay sat at a table silently. Her black hair pinned back in a fashionable bun. The woman was the picture of calm, but underneath she felt like a tempest was rolling through her body. The only sign of her distress was the constant wringing of a red handkerchief between her hands.

Such horrors had occurred today. Both of them dead! It was hardly believable, her delicate demeanor was thrown off so by the thought of the horrid bloody mess left from the murder. To think that it was just a few rooms away...

She stood swiftly, she needed a turn about the room. To calm her nerves...yes, a calming walk.

Her eyes alighted on the magician, such a wonderful distraction - his magic, that was. Always delightfully intriguing and charismatic. After his trick she very nearly clapped her white gloved hands together in appreciation, but that was hardly acceptable for a lady. She withheld the urge, swallowed, and went to move on about the edge of the room.

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

Matthew closed his eyes for a few moments. "Something alcoholic." He said the the maid, ansering her inquiry with a stiff, haughty tone. He was in no mood for pleasentries, least of all when directed at a servant.

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Son of Bellatrix

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