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Post by Kozma on Jul 31, 2013 17:57:18 GMT -5
"I have an interest in film, actually. Especially mystery and suspense. Do you think the library might have any books on the subject?"
"Well, it is a big library," Richard responded. "I'm quite certain Mr. Woo. has some books about film somewhere in here; why don't you check the card catalog and see what you can find?"
As he said this, Richard wondered if Mr. Woo. still had an old fashioned card catalog system in this library or if he had one of those new computer catalog systems that have replaced all the card catalogs in many public libraries. Richard didn't like computers very much and he loathed how technology was quickly displacing many of the good things he enjoyed. Books were being replaced with devices called 'e-readers,' newspapers were being replaced with Internet news, and typing was making the art of penmanship obsolete.
Richard wasn't generally interested in film but he did enjoy a good mystery novel. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd be able to hold a long conversation about movies but perhaps he could find some other topic to talk about.
Richard glanced over at the grandfather clock that was sitting in the middle of the library. It was 9:15; the ice sculpture would be unveiled in about 15 minutes. Richard was slightly disconcerted that time seemed to just fly by; he didn't get a chance to look at those books yet and he surely wasn't talking with Dean that long.
"I guess we should make our way to the great hall for the unveiling," Richard stated. "We wouldn't want to miss the main event."
Richard knew he could come back after the great unveiling to read those rare books as long as Mr. Woo didn't keep them occupied with the ice sculpture all evening.
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Post by Terra on Jul 31, 2013 18:58:06 GMT -5
Geoffrey was enormously confused by the narrator’s extensive discussion of the dangers of shrimp ingestion. Usually, he thought, the narrator wasn’t this enthusiastic about going off on wild tangents that had nothing to do with anything that was going on - though it was known to happen now and again, he supposed.
(Note that this is the opinion of a twenty-three-year-old with no career prospects despite his very expensive but useless graduate degree in progress, and thus should not be taken seriously in any way. Additionally, the narrator is utterly and completely objective in every way, despite what any ignorant character might say.)
Geoffrey abruptly gave a derisive laugh for absolutely no plausible reason.
Then Geoffrey realized that the narrator had been describing the good doctor Scarlett Cross’s thought processes all along - see! The narrator was on the right track all along! How dare Geoffrey question the narrator’s impeccable reasoning -
Anyway.
Geoffrey saw Dr. Cross approach as the narrator described her worries about infection and diseases in the elderly, and she said, "How much did you eat? Can you still wiggle your toes? Did they taste like ammonia?"
“I - I -” Geoffrey began to speak, but was soon overrun by Hanna’s words.
"I... did my toes taste like ammonia?" Hanna gasped to the woman, Cross. "No... no... they did not. They-- I'm sorry-- I... ammonia-- is this food-- does it have ammonia-- oh no, why did I eat the food, when it had ammonia in it, I should have known." As Grunkle watched on in horror, she rocketed to her feet and shrieked, "THE MANSION HAS POISONED OUR FOOD!"
Grunkle reached up and gripped onto Hanna's arm in an effort to get the woman to sit the hell down, but Hanna shook out of her shrink's grasp. Screw internalizing panic! She had to get out of this room, away from the food. She needed... to the bathroom! To throw up everything she'd just eaten, get that ammonia out of her system! She made a beeline for the doorway that led out to the ballroom-- she swore she'd seen a powder room off that way earlier tonight-- before realising some: Geoff. She couldn't leave Geoffrey, Papa would never forgive her if she left Geoffrey!
Geoffrey’s eyes widened when he heard that last bit of narration. So she did care about him! It was so rarely evident that it was a shock to Geoffrey -
"GEOFFREY!" she gasped. "Quickly, quickly, with me, before we die!"
Geoffrey quickly followed Hanna out of the room. If she was this worried about him - or rather, so worried in general, he corrected himself - he could hardly leave her alone, could he?
And besides. He’d been looking for an excuse to get out of that party.
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Jul 31, 2013 20:47:35 GMT -5
Vincent arose. He could have sworn there was someone under the table. He stayed there for a while, kneeling, pondering what he had learned, and wrote some hasty scrawls in his tattered notebook. There were no live animals at the party, thank goodness. Their sole purpose, as he discovered early on in his youth, was to hurt people. Birds and cats and dogs scratched and bit, chickens pecked, raccoons raided, bulls trampled, and insects...were the worst. That was why he had indulged in shrimp. Okay, his policy was to never eat animals just to prove to the world that humans could in fact live without them, but shrimp was his guilty pleasure. No one would have to know. It was morally wrong, sure, to eat the body of something that deserved to die, even by his standards, but again, no one would know. If no one knew, it couldn't be wrong, right? Right. Vincent was always right.
As he gazed upon the people, conversing with themselves, none as lower-class (he didn't believe in classes of people, but others did, and as with women, he let the common public amuse themselves) as he was in outward appearances....he felt....something odd. A strange sense of foreboding. As though something terrible was about to happen. Some of the people seemed to feel that way, Vincent could tell just by looking at their faces. Hanna and Geoffrey especially...but who was to be the judge of what felt bad and good besides their bodies? What might be good to someone might be bad for someone else. Then again, what was good and bad? Ohh, that question had sparred with him, taunted him, snarled at him, challenged him to "come at it, bro." Good could be agreed upon, but bad...less so. He couldn't convince his colleagues that women and animals were beneath intellectuals like himself. Now there was a thought worthy of being written down. Vincent scribbled in his notebook and tucked it back into his tatty suit. That felt....good, for lack of a better word.
Vincent turned towards the Hall. Mr. Woo had to be alerted. Perhaps the ice sculpture would resemble...an animal. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. He straightened his tatty suit and marched towards the Hall, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught that was inevitable. That tended to happen when he corrected others at parties to which he was uninvited.
His last host had kicked him out for insulting her dog, who was sleeping peacefully on the couch. She was not convinced by his wisdom that the dog needed to stay outside, as was in its nature.
Perhaps Mr. Woo would be different...
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Post by Sheik on Jul 31, 2013 21:23:36 GMT -5
What was this about poisoned food? Bernadette sucked in her cheeks as she looked at her plate, which had the remains of the few shrimp she’d picked at. Nah, it wasn’t poisoned. It could do with a little more seasoning, maybe, and the chefs could have provided a low-calorie option, but just because the food was tasteless didn’t mean that it was deadly. She sat back down and watched as those antisocial siblings fled the room.
Wasn’t the ‘great unveiling’ thing supposed to start soon? Mr. Woo had seemed so excited about it before he rushed out of the dining room, so she supposed it might actually be something to look forward to. Until then, she would just sit and wait for Brenda to return with the drinks.
...Whenever that may be. Right now, the maid was talking to the girl that supposedly had a lovely singing voice. Bernadette flared her nostrils in mild irritation. She preferred her own maids to this one; they practically fought each other for the privilege of doing her chores. She wasn’t used to such slow service. She is sooo not getting a big tip, she thought. A few thousand dollars and I swear to God, she’s not getting any more than that.
Still, she sat impatiently at the table, not moving an inch. There were some interesting things going on in the dining room.
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Post by Pixie on Jul 31, 2013 21:44:48 GMT -5
"That's very cool! I wish I had a good singing voice sometimes, but as long as there are people like you there will always be music in the world. I have to go fill these real quick or else that high-class lady might get upset again." Brenda awkwardly broke eye contact and scurried her way to the kitchen door as well as she could "scurry" in her heels.
She filled the drinks hastily and came back out smiling weakly, carrying the guest's beverages. She placed the cups down were Bernadette sat, noting curiously that the prince had left.
"Here are your drinks, Miss. Fine champagne for you and wine for the prince- when he returns. I'll be around if you want more latter." She said smoothly. After ten seconds, she turned back around to talk to the singer from Katten.
"Sorry, Miss Erika. I might be a guest, but I'm still a maid. I think Mr.Woo is presenting his sculpture soon. You may wish to leave soon."
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Post by Stal on Jul 31, 2013 22:08:51 GMT -5
Prince Stal was quite enjoying wandering around the various rooms. He even bumped into Woo at one point and paid his respects to him.
Surely his wine must be back at the table now.
Prince Stal returned to the dining room and noticed that his maid-friend Brenda was still around. He would need to make up to her for abandoning for the model earlier. But a Prince never ignores a damsel in distress or in need. He picked up his wine glass and looked down at Bernadette who seemed stuck right at the table. "This is really quite the mansion. You should see the coatcheck room. Lots of expensive items there."
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Post by Ted (the zombie Dalek) on Jul 31, 2013 22:44:48 GMT -5
After the sudden but humorous departure of the younger guest - ah, the simplicity of youth - Dr. Medlis devoted the rest of his attention to the last remaining mouthfuls still residing on his plate. When finished, he regarded the guests in his vicinity. Seeing they were all deep within their own conversations, he decided he would not be missed.
Melvin cast an eye to the grand piano that lay so invitingly across the room once he had excused himself. Had it been only himself and Mr. Woo in attendance, he would have perhaps considered attempting to recite a piece he had learned decades previous. Even so, it was a gorgeous model. To admire it from a closer vantage point wouldn't be too hazardous, would it?
Before he reached the piano, however, his attention was stolen by the sound of yelling as two of the very youngest guests - the Delaney twins if he wasn't mistaken - fled from the room, much to the irritation of their older companion. After a moment of considering investigating (purely to satisfy his curiosity), he decided not to tempt himself with "why"s and promptly walked off in the opposite direction. Perhaps a break to admire more of Woo's exquisite acquisitions would help him to collect himself for the night's main event. Crowded halls were not his environment of choice.
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Post by Avery on Jul 31, 2013 23:10:11 GMT -5
We present to you... the crowning jewel of the night... At promptly 9:30pm, the head of household, Miss Macy, collected the party guests from their various locations across the manor and escorted them into the hall. It was quite a feat, that collection-- the attendees had taken Woo's decree to mill about to heart. From the library and ballroom and kitchen and garden and everywhere else she rounded them up, so that when the clock struck 9:30, everyone would be in their place in the hall for the grand unveiling.
But where was Woo?
Nowhere to be seen.
Macy gave it a few minutes, thinking he might be late; but when still he did not show his face, she knew that ah, the show must go on! The sculpture must be revealed with a dramatic flourish, its covering swept off. Woo was, after all, a gentleman: he would not want his guests to be kept waiting on his behalf.
And so the sculpture was wheeled out. The party-goers held their collective breaths, watching with wide eyes as the towering art-piece was positioned just so. A number of them felt... odd... to say the least, about Woo's absence. He'd been brimming with excitement over this moment, so where was he? Was it really right to unveil this fine sculpture-- Woo's treasure!-- without the man present? But before any of the guests could question Miss Macy on this matter, the head of household had taken hold of the sculpture's cover and with a loud whoosh, off it came.
"Oooh! Ahh!" the guests cried, taking in the glory of the icy water fowl-- the sweet, beautiful swan!
But very rapidly, their delighted oohing and ahhing turned into mostly, well... ahhing. Of the terrified vein. Because what was that, encased in the ice, hands pressed out, as if attempting to beat at the thick, gleaming ice? Was that a... man?
"Is... is that a replica of Woo?" one of the household staff dared ask Miss Macy as those within the hall gaped in shock at the ice sculpture.
"No," Miss Macy said, horror-stricken. "That is not a replica. That is Woo himself! Murdered, by the looks of it!"
The hall devolved into shrieking and fainting as the guests drank in the implications of this. Woo. Murdered! Several of them charged the icy swan, as if to hack it apart and extract Woo from its frozen confines, but Miss Macy yelled at them to stop. She stood protectively in front of the sculpture-turned-tomb, like a mother shielding her child.
"This sculpture costs $7,500! Woo would be devastated if it were destroyed!"
"But he's been murdered!" shouted back the guests. "We must find out how-- and where-- and by whom!"
"No! He would turn over in his grave at the mere thought of this precious sculpture being destroyed!" Macy turned towards one of the kitchen staff. "Wheel this back to the freezer," she demanded. "Make sure it stays frozen and perfect!" Then, to several of the dining room servers: "Chain shut the front door. No one leaves this house, not with a murderer among us! We cannot remove Woo from the statue, so we shall have to solve his grisly death another way!"Put on your detective hat, party goer! It's time to find out the culprit... as you begin this game of Clue...
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Post by Stal on Jul 31, 2013 23:15:42 GMT -5
Prince Stal turned to the rest of the guests. "Let's get to work people. We don't want this..." he paused, to put back on the sunglasses he had removed earlier.
"...to turn into a cold case."
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Jul 31, 2013 23:31:21 GMT -5
"To...to turn into a cold case." Mr. Gladstone repeated, letting the words sink into his tongue. "Turn into a cold case..." Something tickled in his mind. Something that, several years ago, could have passed as a sense of humor but now was so washed out and dried that it barely resembled one. "Cold ca--" Vincent paused. This prince, who thought so highly of himself, was a FREAKING GENIUS. Vincent let out a powerful wheeze, something that would have passed for a laugh had he been about forty years younger. The universe was very lucky to have them both in it. The guy would certainly grow to spread his choice words around, just like he did. The philosopher gave him a thumbs up, and turned to the sculpture being wheeled away.
"Both alive and dead until the cloth came off," he whispered, the words itching and feeling so wrong. "No, he was dead before the cloth came off. Then again, he could have been alive for several minutes just before the horrid swan was unveiled, and perhaps died the moment of the revelation. What a peculiar twist of fate. This would make a wonderful prompt for another book. Or maybe...!" Vincent shuddered at the prospect, but it was worth saying to anyone who was fortunate enough to be listening to his thinking aloud.
"He might have perished because the sculpture is of an animal! I should have known!" Mr. Gladstone waved his arms, aghast. "Hm. Would that dehumanize him or exalt his humanity, being encased like that? At any rate, it just goes to show that there is more below the surface of ice than one would think..."
His notebook would be stuffed by the time this party was over. He grinned.
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Post by downrightdude on Jul 31, 2013 23:35:14 GMT -5
After drinking more soda, Snaw Van Peacock stole a third pillow from the living room........
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Post by Sheik on Jul 31, 2013 23:41:49 GMT -5
"This is really quite the mansion. You should see the coatcheck room. Lots of expensive items there."
Bernadette (with as much politeness as she could muster) thanked the maid for her drink and turned to reply to Prince Stal. However, before she could say anything, Miss Macy wheeled in the ice sculpture. Nobody drew a breath as she took off the cover.
It was impressive, to say the least. The sculpture appeared to be molded into Mr. Woo’s shape; every small detail, from his pores to the vivid expression on his face, could be seen adequately. Gasps were drawn from everyone’s lips – first of admiration, and then of horror. Someone asked if it was replica.
"No. That is not a replica. That is Woo himself! Murdered, by the looks of it!"
Bernadette paused.
And then clapped her hands wildly.
“Oh man. You’re good at this.” She took a step closer to the sculpture, peering it with awe. “I can’t imagine how much time it took you to get this right. Wow, this is so realistic!” Turning to Miss Macy, she gushed, “Might I add that you’re a terrific actress, ma’am. Oh, I’m simply dying to see what else you have in store! No pun intended, of course.”
She giggled and stepped away from the sculpture. “I had no idea this would be a ‘dinner and a show’ kind of thing. Marvelous, Miss Macy, this is marvelous!”
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Post by Draco on Jul 31, 2013 23:45:33 GMT -5
Mori whimpers as he claws at the front door. Really, why was he here?! WHY? First he missed his convention, then he was dumped in a unknown place with weirdos, and now there was a dead Woo! He looks around worried, and dashes into the bedroom, where he dives under the bed. Taking out his phone he begins to rapidly text. " Look what you did! Now the host of the party is dead! YOU LEFT ME WITH WHACK JOBS! " A jingle rings out shortly after he sends the message. " Looks like Jerry wins the bet." Mori is confused... " Bet?" " We took bets. Jerry had the "Mori will freak out and kill someone" bet." " I DIDN'T KILL HIM!" " Riiight. We're rooting on you. Try not to kill the others... Or do, might be safer that way." Mori groans as he puts his phone away. He covers himself in his blanket and hopes this all ends soon.
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Post by Avery on Jul 31, 2013 23:47:28 GMT -5
Hanna did not make it to the bathroom to vomit her guts out without being intercepted by Grunkle, who caught up with Hanna and Geoffrey in the ballroom and literally grabbed onto both of them to stop their frenzied flight. After admonishing them both, the whole lot of them were suddenly approached by Miss Macy, who shepherded them into the hall for the unveiling of the ice sculpture. Hanna still wanted to vomit very badly, but she could not bring herself to do so in front of such a large crowd. No, if Papa heard about such a rude move, he would make Hanna go Grunkle six times a week instead of four!
That did not stop Hanna's stomach from flopping about, however, as she and the other party-goers waited for the sculpture's revelation. Those poisoned shrimp! Festering inside her right now! Eating at her insides! The mansion, it was winning, it was--
"That is Woo himself! Murdered, by the looks of it!"
Hanna screamed. The mansion had done it! Oh, that "poisoning" was a mere diversionary tactic, the real victim had been Woo all along! Hanna attempted to make a break for the front door, to escape this horrid place-- but before she could, some of the house staff had chained it shut. Her cheeks burned. She screamed again.
"Geoffrey!" she gasped to her brother. "Geoffrey, it's started! Oh, it's started!" She turned to the rest of the guests and urgently informed them, "WE. ARE. ALL. GOING. TO. DIE. WOO WAS JUST THE FIRST!"
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Post by Yoyti on Jul 31, 2013 23:54:49 GMT -5
Y.T. Cado couldn't help but smile at the beautiful ice sculpture. It really was an intricate work of art. Such delicacy. Such grace. Such... "Pardon me did you say someone was murdered?"
"WOO WAS JUST THE FIRST?"
"Woo's on first? Ah, yes, a murdering dinner. I've attended several of those in my day. Once I was the murderer myself. What a shock that turned out to be! I never saw it coming..."
And so on and so on Yancy Tremolin Cado went rambling. Most of this was, of course, a lie. The closest he had ever come to murdering anyone was when meeting with that woman who was allergic to avocado pheromones. But then, if there was to be no examination of the body, there could be little accomplished by treating this as much more than a board game.
A murdering dinner board game, thought Y.T. Cado. What a novel idea. I should write a novel about this.
He proceeded to produce a notepad and started taking down everyone's speech and external narration.
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