You have been cordially invited to attend Mistress Jean Clue's formal dinner to discuss the state of her will and affairs. Being a grandchild of the dear Mistress you are in line to one day inherit a piece of her vast assets be it property, wealth, a personal belonging, or status.
The Mistress requires you to attend if you wish to inherit anything. You must not only wear your best but she wishes to test you as well.
Each attendee must bring their weapon of choice. Choose what you will but your choice will be a reflection of you. The Mistress will see what you bring and it will help in her decision.
Do not disappoint her. For you will be sorry.
Mistress Jean Doe Clue, Lady of Nightingale Manor
Posted: Sun Jul 07, 2013 8:28 pm
Rules
1. No whining, complaining, or general bad attitudes. This is supposed to be FUN!
2. Follow TLN and Gaia rules. Easy no?
3. You may enter for each pet a total of 2 times! I will explain in the prompt post below~
4. These pets are related. They are cousins. Do NOT mate or breed them.
5. No discouraging other's from entering or cheering a certain person on. We don't like favorites here.
6. Make sure you read ALL the posts about this rp event. It has special rules you need to follow.
7. Please keep ALL Rp related things in this thread and not in the other event thread. I created the thread so I wouldn't loose any of the responses and they were all in one easy place.
8. You have 72 hours to either post in thread or contact me about your win after the event is over. If for some reason you can't collect in that time let me know and I will hold the pet for you.
9. Even if you don't think your idea is that great ENTER! Just because there's 6 pets now doesn't mean there isn't a chance at getting something special later ;3
10. This will end when the main event ends so you should have plenty of time to enter at least once!
11. First person to enter for each pet gets an unedited familiar!
As you know these cousins have been invited to their grandmother's house to discuss updating her will. Each one has a chance to inherit things beyond their wildest dreams, as their grandmother is very rich.
The storm outside it raging as each cousin enters, shows their weapon to their grandmother and places it on her buffet, over beside the large oak table set up for their dinner before sitting down to eat. All six are there, Mistress Clue at the head of the table as they begin the discussion.
Of course, when you have a bunch of people standing to inherit a lot of money things never quite go as planned. As the storm picks up the lights go out. There's movement as people try to figure out what's going on. A muffled scream comes from the head of the table. Frantically running around to find a light there's a loud thump.
When the butler comes in with a candle he reveals his dear Mistress dead. He refuses to let the cousins see her body to determine the weapon used to kill her, as he takes her to her room to mourn.
You are now stuck in a room with a murderer. Whodunnit?
The Extra Rule: These pets are in the rp event for a reason. Not only do I love rp but this is supposed to be a fun plot idea. When the event is over their grandma will STILL be killed by someone and no I'm not going to announce who the killer is at the end of the event. That will be for the winners to decide.
So you may enter twice for each pet. Once as aSolo. Once with a Partner.
You also can indicate your favorites. Since you could enter a total of 12 times you can choose up to 3 of your responses as your favorite. Meaning not only the way you rp'd the character but also the character in question. This may help me narrow down who gets what later.
However: Just because you indicate a favorite does not guarantee you that pet.
Code For Solo:
[b][size=18][color=green]All By Myself~[/color][/size][/b] [color=green][b]Username:[/b][/color] [color=green][b]Cousin You're Rping:[/b][/color] [color=green][b]Name of Noodle:[/b][/color] [color=green][b]Prompt Number:[/b][/color] [color=green][b]Prompt:[/b][/color]
Code For Partner:
[b][size=18][color=indigo]I've Got Friends In Places[/color][/size][/b] [color=indigo][b]Usernames:[/b][/color] [color=indigo][b]Cousins You're Rping:[/b][/color] [color=indigo][b]Name of Noodles:[/b][/color] [color=indigo][b]Prompt Number:[/b][/color] [color=indigo][b]Prompt:[/b][/color]
Code For Top 3:
[b][color=red]Witch I want this one~[/color][/b]
Prompts:
One
1. Your Grandma is dead. No one knows who did it. Who do you think it is? Do you sit quietly to the side while the other's argue or do you accuse someone else? Explain how the night goes from there.
Two
2. You are the killer. Why did you do it? Did you use your own weapon or one of your cousin's to blame it on them? Did you have an accomplice? If you want you can even describe it. (Under a spoiler please so others aren't forced to read it).
Three
3. You're still the killer. Now that you've finished the murder how do you handle it? Do you play innocent? Do you frame someone else? Do you end up getting caught and going to jail?
Four
4. You have a weapon on you that you choose to bring to represent yourself. How did you decide on that weapon? What do you think it'll say about you?
Five
5. You received the invitation in the mail. How do you react? What are you hoping to get out of the will? Are you excited to see your cousins? How do you feel about them?
Six
6. Go nuts. Tell me something about your cousin, about the murder, about anything so long as it has a little something to do with your character and their feelings toward their family.
CrimsonCutie666 Vice Captain
Offline
CrimsonCutie666 Vice Captain
Offline
Posted: Sun Jul 07, 2013 8:29 pm
List
Scarlet:
White:
Peacock:
Green:
Mustard:
Plum:
Posted: Sun Jul 07, 2013 8:30 pm
Reserved
CrimsonCutie666 Vice Captain
Offline
CrimsonCutie666 Vice Captain
Offline
Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2013 12:38 am
Open! Feel free to post!
Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2013 11:17 am
All By Myself~ Username: lux_rayne13 Cousin You're Rping: White heart Name of Noodle: Kimya (meaning silent) Prompt Number: 2 Prompt:
Witch. Pompous. Snot. All words I would use to describe miss Grannie dearest. What a woman. This large estate at her fingertips, butlers and maids and all of that hullabaloo and all obtained in the lowest of ways, and she just flits around like the greatest thing on the planet. What's worse is she expects all of us to flit around too, bending to her will, playing her little games. I bet she wanted us all to fight for her wealth. Why else would she have made us all bring weapons and dress all fancy? No matter. All the more easy to rid us of that scum. Hm? Yes, I know what you're thinking, dear one. And, yes, I did indeed kill that filthy rat when the lights went out. Haha, no darling, that wasn't the storm. Grammie didn't know I'd been in cahoots with the butler and we've been planning this the whole time. Being in the middle helped as well, not the furthest so not the hardest to get to her quickly, but not the nearest and therefor not the first suspect. No, surely the first one they turn to will be the idiot next to me who brought a knife. Really, a sharp blade is so swift and silent… I like silent~ But, it's messy as well. So, so messy. Nevermind that though, if you know what you're doing~
How did I kill her? Oh, it was easy. When the moment was right, I tapped my little button inside my glove to send a signal to my dear butler, and there went the lights!~ Oh, to hear the others panic was such an added bonus. It took me no time at all to swipe my rope and Cousin's blade, both quiet to use and if done right, leave only one weapon indication. Of course, I did it right~ -wink- Took the rope, wrapped it around her head so that it covered her mouth to muffle the old hag, and the rest fit nicely around her pretty little neck. I made sure to pull hard, tight, and fast, to cut off circulation as quickly as I could. The blade was smooth, it went right above where the blood had been cut off, so little spill at all~ Once her neck was slit I quickly let the rope off her - the less time it's pressured on flesh the less likely it is to leave bruising and more likely to fade quickly. My friend was quick as well, swooping in to take away the body~ I'll have to thank him for that… right before I kill him, too. Can't have him freaking out and going to the cops, now can I?~
What now? Why, we all know Grannie dearest and I never liked each other. I doubt I had much coming to me in the will. What was listed before will stand now, and the others can fight over it. Like I've stated I want nothing to do with her dirty money, more than just her blood has been spilled on this land and I do not want my paws any more soiled than they already are, or rather, will be. I'll take whatever I've got from the old lady and simply vanish off to Los Angelus~ Shame I can't take the butler with me… Course, there are plenty of men out there, and I'm sure I can find at least one other to follow me around like the dog he is~ Now, I do hope you can keep all this to yourself, because we both know what will happen if you find your lips unable to be silent... Ta-ta, love!~ <3
All By Myself~ Username: Geyser Eelborn Cousin You're Rping: Mustard Name of Noodle: Cornelius Bartholomew Mustard Prompt Number: 5 (with a bit of 4) Prompt:
It had been a long day, and Cornelius Bartholomew Mustard—but please, Mustard will do—was in no mood to go to the mailbox. Outside the crickets chirped, and inside the cabin was cool and dark, the floorboards creaking familiarly as he made his way to his bed. Exhausted, he flopped down on the bed and fell asleep.
Morning dawned with the chattering of birds. Blearily, he pushed himself out of bed and shuffled to the table. Creak, creak, creak. He put the water on the stove to boil for coffee, pausing there to stare listlessly at the old kettle. Something. Needed something to do while waiting for the coffee. The mail. By the time he fetched the mail, the water would be done. Eh. It was as good an option as any.
With a grumble, he stepped outside and made the long trek to the mailbox by the side of the road. Already, the sun was beating down through the branches of the trees, and clouds of dust, heavy as smoke, fine as mist, were kicked up with every step Mustard made. That, the sounds of birds chirping, and the gurgle of the creek behind the cabin, were the only sounds to be heard from all around. No traffic. No planes. No noisy neighbors (well, besides the birds). Just the sound of serenity all around.
The mailbox was an old wooden affair a brisk walk from the cabin by the road. There wasn’t much mail around here—bills, usually—but it came in the only truck that came ‘round here. If Mustard wanted anything else, he’d have to go to town. He opened it up and reached inside, pulling out a thin sheathe of envelopes. He closed it back up again, then leaned against the mailbox to glance at the addresses. Bill. Bill. Bill. And…something else.
This envelope was made of a finer paper, and addressed in hand-written letters—so neatly and consistently written that they could be mistaken for print, but too ornate to ever be anything other than the writing of someone who considered neatness and orderliness to be chief virtues. The letter was clean, the stamp perfectly aligned, and there was a faint scent of lavender and rosemary around it. It brought back memories. Old ones. Ones he didn’t particularly like to remember.
An old, dark house. Laughing voices, clinking glasses, and games of chase up stairs and down stairs and hiding in closets. An old, dignified, woman who ruled this household with an iron fist. Cold. Passionless. What could she have possibly written to him about? Was he finally disinherited for shunning or shaming the family? With an angry grunt, he stormed off with the letters back to the cabin, where the kettle was whining. Carelessly, he tossed the envelopes onto the table, pulled a beaten metal mug down from the peg by the stove, and poured water over black coffee grounds. He took a sip of the scalding liquid and sat down at the table. Down went the coffee, and the envelopes were rearranged to their original order. Bills. Yes, bills first. Mustard pulled a knife out of his collar and slit the first bill open and read it through. It could wait. He set it aside. The next bill could wait, too, another payment on this cabin. The third bill…well, on second thought, bills are very important. Bills must be paid, yes, and paid as soon as possible. And the coffee pot could do with a rinse. Yesterday’s dishes needed cleaning. Oh, breakfast! Eggs, sausages, and toast, yes. And now there were more dishes to do. And sweeping, and…
Thus it was that Grandmother’s letter didn’t get read until late in the afternoon, once chores that Mustard had been putting off for weeks, even months, saw doing. It was only after the outhouse had been cleaned that he saw fit to pour himself a bath and read Grandmother’s letter while relaxing in the lukewarm water.
His fingers were trembling as he slit the letter open. Holding the knife in his teeth, he opened the letter and read it through.
Then read it through again.
Halfway through the third try, he just gave up and leaned back to look up at the bright blue sky and ponder. So. Grandmother was discussing her inheritance. Apparently she was getting old enough that she was getting insecure. But not old enough that she was senile, oh no—she was the same as always. Playing the family against each other. This wasn’t the only stunt she’d ever pulled. She’d often invited family members to bring weapons. Mustard remembered one time when he was just a kit visiting for a family holiday and one of his cousins had brought a jump rope. He remembered being foolish enough to climb up a tree with her only to find himself hanging by his foot. Yes. “Fun” times. And there were other incidents as well—one of his cousins had thrown a punch at him during an argument over television channels while Grandmother watched. She’d just smiled, chuckled to herself, and eagerly watched the heated tussle on the floor that escalated when Mustard pulled a knife on his cousin, and ended with both boys going to the hospital for stitches.
Mustard had never wanted to avoid a meeting so much in his entire life. And yet…at the same time, he wanted to go. Not for the inheritance—oh, the money would be nice, those bills wouldn’t pay themselves—but for a different opportunity. An opportunity readily associated with being in a closed room with his five least-favorite people in the world. And six weapons. And an old woman who reveled in carnage over the services she could provide.
Mustard’s decision was made. He dropped the letter to the ground and stood up, vigorously drying himself off with a towel before stepping down onto the creaking deck. There was no time to waste. In just a week, he and his cousins would be converging on Grandmother’s mansion. Time to pack. And time to plot.
A weapon, eh? A knife. No, not a knife. Everyone in the family knew that Mustard liked knives. No. His knife would have to stay at home. What else, then? The rifle? A shotgun? But the idea of guns reminded him of something hidden at the bottom of his trunk. Something smaller and better able to hide. Underneath the formal clothes that he pulled out—white suit with the leather bolo tie—he found a lady’s pistol hidden in a secret compartment. A long-ago lover had left it there. He’d brought her to the family mansion to introduce her, but after a deplorable evening, she’d left in tears. He’d never seen her again.
When he bought the air plane ticket, he had his plan all in place. Inherit anything from the estate? There wasn’t a chance that was happening, not at all. Grandmother was a spiteful old b***h, and anything he said he wanted, he wouldn’t get. And even if she was so inclined, his cousins would snatch it out of his paws. Kill his grandmother? Not a chance. She’d die soon enough anyway, and her will wasn’t written yet. No good. No. He’d come to the party, all prepared, leave a knife on the sideboard like he’d never changed, while inside his coat was his pistol.
None of his cousins were making it out of there alive.
((Sorry it's a little rushed xP But I had fun writing this.))
Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2013 2:41 pm
All By Myself~ Username: ChibiWrites Cousin You're Rping: Peacock Name of Noodle: Henrietta Eleanor Peacock Prompt Number: 1 Prompt: Honestly, the night had started so well! She and her cousins had all been summoned to Nightingale Manor to discuss dear Grandmother Clue's will. It had been unfortunate that they'd all managed to make it, seeing as if they hadn't been in attendance there would've been a bigger portion of the inheritance that would've made her pocketbook quite fat indeed.
The storm had made her quite hopeful for that outcome, but one-by-one, her cousins had arrived - most sopping wet and tired. (Of course, she herself had arrived fifth. A lady of her social standing had no choice but to arrive fashionably late.) And, unfortunately, they'd all brought their chosen weapon as was instructed.
Henrietta had chosen to have a wrench to represent her. Her thought process was that perhaps it would endear her to the elderly relative - wrenches were used more to fix things than bludgeon someone to death. And Henrietta enjoyed fixing things, mostly with a little social interaction or politicking.
Ms. Scarlet, being the first to arrive as the flaming redhead that she was, brought a candlestick - how fitting. Next was dear Mr. Mustard who had brought a revolver - probably to invoke fond memories of when the late Mr. Clue had taught him how to hunt pheasants. The third was Mrs. White, and she had a rope, purple, which was truly her persona given weapon form. Mr- No, Reverend Green had brought with him a well-kept dagger - a birthday present from Mustard if she recalled correctly. The last to arrive, Mr. Plum had a lead pipe with him, which was interesting for the scholar - she wondered how he'd managed to make that connection.
They'd all been ushered into the dining hall, placing their weapons safely away from their persons, and sat at the old oak table. Grandmother had entered later, slowly making her way to the front of the table. She stumbled a bit at one point, but being the brave old gal that she was, declined her butler's help. They'd begun dinner, chatting pleasantly about their lives and catching up with one another. It had been quite a few years since they'd last been together.
And their extended separation had been for good reason. Before long a squabble erupted. Henrietta couldn't tell what started it, but the heated argument soon turned onto the topic of the inheritance. And, well, she couldn't let that topic go without putting her own two cents in!
Dear Grandmother tried to get the fight to stop, stating the perhaps none of them should receive a single piece of her wealth. That, of course, only caused even more outrage from the family members around the table and the fighting continued to grow louder and louder.
And then the storm had thundered and the manor had gone dark. Anger was doused down to confusion in the lightless room, everyone trying to find out what had happened. A muffled scream that the head of the table only stirred up the anxiety in the room, everyone trying to find out if the other family members were alright. (That in itself gave Henrietta a bit of hope - perhaps this family wasn't as broken as it seemed?)
The butler entered the room, carefully carrying a flickering candlestick. With almost unspoken conformity, they all had turned toward the front of the table where Grandmother Clue was slumped over the oak. The silence that followed was sure to haunt Henrietta for the rest of her life.
The butler reacted first. He swooped in, picked up the old lady with something akin to reverence, and strode out of the room. His final words had been to discover the murderer, no matter what the cost. The one who found out the culprit would inherit everything. The sound of a key in the lock had never seemed so loud.
So it was. Now Henrietta was locked in a room with her five cousins, one of which was the murderer. If only the others hadn't come - Grandmother would still be alive and she would be an heiress. From how everyone was eyeing each other, she would almost bet money that by the end of the night there would be even fewer members of her blood relations left standing.
All By Myself~ Username: Yushika Cousin You're Rping: Scarlet Name of Noodle: Ruby Red Prompt Number: Five and some four. Prompt:
'You have been cordially invited'.
"Aren't I a lucky lass?" The sarcasm dripped heavily from her lips as she crumpled the letter and tossed it into the bin beside her desk. Invited, bah. Like her grandmother ever showed any interest in her except the quiet remarks on what man she must be sleeping with this time, or if she had perhaps settled down, again. Ruby Red was tired of this nonsense, and had been for awhile. She was tired of the remarks from her family, especially her cousins, and she had no interest in flaunting her way into the gathering. Besides, what was this nonsense about weapons? No, she was not going to accept the damn letter or its play. Weapons? Who brought weapons to such an event? She was not risking her pretty hair being burnt to a crisp or sliced if a cousin played an idiotic stunt.
However, now that she thought about it, money was tight these days. Her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, had lost his job and fled off when she gave him an earful. This was about inheritance, and while she despised her family she could use the dough. Still, this crap about a weapon....
"A weapon? Certainly not a blade." It wasn't like she expected a fight, but she was curious about the symbol behind said weapons. A blade was messy, and everyone knew she despised such things. Her cousins were annoying brats, she knew at least one would bring something messy. Perhaps she wouldn't mind bringing rope, for wasn't that a weapon? No, she didn't have any on hand, and she wasn't going to use her dwindling money on such an event. Her grandmother didn't get the privilege of running her dry. What did she have?
A candle.
Ah. Fire. Fire was beautiful, yet hot to the touch. A danger to approach, and not to be underestimated. Any second it could twitch free of its container and set your fire ablaze. It burnt everything it touched to a crisp, reminding its surroundings that it was to be feared. Her eyes narrowed as her lips pursued, hand wrapping around the item. It could be messy, but the blaze itself was worth it. It was beautiful, and wasn't she? It could bite, if provoked.
"Well, it's a unique choice." She whispered before stuffing it into her purse for later. Long lashes kissed her cheeks as she let out a sigh and flopped onto her bed, arms spreading. Fine, she'd humour that old hag and rude lot of a family who called themselves cousins. Perhaps she'd even bat her eyes a bit and behave. She honestly just needed the money.....
Posted: Tue Jul 09, 2013 8:46 am
All By Myself~ Username: Katsura Zanshin Cousin You're Rping: Green Name of Noodle: Wylie Morgan Green Prompt Number: 5 Prompt:
Once again Wylie scanned the letter his 'dearest grandmama' had sent him. The old bat had waited until now to make out a will? True she was nearly at death's door and a small push would be enough to send her over the threshold. But shouldn't she have already had one written? And, of course, she has to make a simple will writing into a grandiose affair. Wylie scoffed at the thought, not at all pleased he'd have to appear at a party in order to get his share of Grandma's wealth. Another scan of the page had him shaking his head; what weapons had to do with the party, the will, or anything at all, really, Wylie could only guess.
Wylie dropped the letter and padded to the full length mirror on his closet door, inspecting his outfit for the evening. He may have hated all the pomp and hoop-jumping that went into this inheritance, but he was no fool. Grandmother was beyond rich, and he wasn't going to miss out on a bit of windfall just because his tail was tweaked at the thought of seeing his so-called 'family'. Wylie straightened his bow tie, grabbed the knife his grandmother had given to him as a present ages ago, and smoothed the green suit jacket one more time before heading to the car. He hoped his choice would show he wasn't afraid to tackle any problem from close up, and he also hoped the reminder of the present might send a little...nostalgia his grandmother's way.
His grandmother, while old and clearly eccentric, was at least tolerable. His cousins, on the other hand, were obnoxious, simpering, fools. None of the girls should even be considered to be up to Grandmother's standards; White was a prissy little witch, always with her nose in the air, Scarlet...well the very mention of her sent most decent women swooning, and Peacock was a dithering goosebrain. Not that his male cousins were much better. Mustard was a blustering blowhard, and Plum was a foppish fellow.
Honestly, Grandmama shouldn't give them anything. Wylie, himself, should inherit the entirety of her estate. Sighing, he shook his head, knowing that would never happen...unless the others failed to show up. No, he would be content with just the house. Wylie had secretly been in love with Grandmama's house since he was very young. So many rooms and secret passages...not that he would tell anyone that. His official excuse would be how much the hulking monstrosity would fetch him on the market. A market the house wouldn't go on until Wylie was on his own death-bed.
As he pulled up to the house, the heavens let loose with an almighty crack and rain poured down in buckets. Opening his shamrock green umbrella, Wylie strode across the yard to the front door and knocked imperiously. When the butler opened the door, Wylie stepped into the party.
All By Myself~ Username: Ishmeluv Cousin You're Rping: Peacock Name of Noodle:Madame Elaine Rosemary Peacock Prompt Number: 2 Prompt:
Madame Elaine Peacock was a high class socialite, a lady with a title and a reputation to uphold, one which she took pride in above all else. She had lived her entire life in the lap of luxury, never forced to drink wine from a box instead of a bottle, and even privileged enough to catch a glimpse of the limelight as it shone brightly on her companions. Elaine was envious of their love affair with the public eye, but what could she do? She was a failed actress living on her husband’s fame and fortune, while her acquaintances thrived on their talent and beauty. It was his position in government that provided her with the social circle she thought she deserved. That was before he left her for a whore.
She wasn’t surprised, really. Elaine had always provided for her husband in the best way possible, and for a few years she did satisfy him to the utmost. However, their relationship grew stale with time, as many do, and they agreed to stay together only because their conversations proved time and time again to be amusing for both. She did not care where he received his pleasure, only that he show up to their weekly social events well-dress, well-mannered, and ready to put on a show. That’s why it was inconceivable to her that he would disrupt their little arrangement in such a manner, and that he would ask her to move her things out by the end of the week. Without him, their companions would have no reason to offer even a glance in her direction; all her dreams of stealing the spotlight died with their marriage.
The invitation arrived shortly after, one day before she was forced blindly out onto the streets of a world she had never known, crushing any hope of keeping her dignity and pride intact. At this point, she saw only one option, and that was to become an heiress, one who stepped on anyone who stood in her way. She knew that it was impossible to live with only a taste of greatness, her entire life was meant to be spent bathing in it. With a wrench in hand, and a few jewels pressed into the palm of her husband's driver, she set off for the home of her dearly beloved grandmother, hoping that the lovely lady would be dead upon her arrival.
Awaking from her reverie, Elaine brushed off the accusing glances of her cousins and began to fan herself dramatically. Her eyes slid over to the man running his fingers nervously through his hair, wetting his lips as he waited for an answer to his inquiries. "Oh, but dear Professor Plum, how could you ask such questions of me? After all, you are the only one of us who has not tasted the life of a rich man. Intelligence does not provide a man with fortune, it only makes him bitter and liable to.... Well, plotting." She shifted in her velvet chair and leaned forward, offering him an inquisitive look of her own. She knew that as soon as the calculated Plum fell apart, so too would any formal interrogation, and the old woman's household would lapse into utter chaos. Her only hope was to make everyone question his judgement, and she left the rest to their intimidating glares. "I do believe your weapon has also disappeared, Professor Plum. How.... Convenient for you." Stuffed deep in the confines of her plush seat of luxury lay a wrench and a pipe, both spattered with blood, both solid evidence against two separate individuals. The fallen socialite hoped that she would be the one to escape this mansion with a bottle of rum and a plane ticket to somewhere exotic.
Edited 7/13/13
Posted: Sat Jul 13, 2013 9:26 am
Witch I want this one~
All By Myself~ Username: ChaosTheories Cousin You're Rping: White Name of Noodle: Rosalind White Prompt Number: 3 Prompt:
The moment Rosalind sat down at the table, she knew she was in for an interesting night. And not the type of interesting one usually would seek out if they desired entertainment, either. The type that would likely end with shattered dishes and upended tables.
She glared around the table at her fellow dinner guests, turning up her nose at Mr. Mustard's ghastly moustache, Mr. Green's horrendous hairstyle, and Mr. Plum's absolute lack of posture and poise. Of course, she couldn't overlook the way Miss Peacock fluttered this way and that as she talked loudly about some subject or other no one really cared about. Miss Scarlet, the only one of her cousins that was even remotely tolerable, kept having to duck away from Miss Peacock's wild gesticulations.
That damn old bat. Why did she see fit to invite them all here, at the same time, no less! A letter would have sufficed, instead of this embarrassing show. She probably hoped to bring them closer together, or some other ridiculous thing. Well, Rosa would never stoop as low as to associate willingly with any of her cousins. She stabbed at a piece of carrot with unnecessary force as Mr. Mustard's booming voice penetrated the conversation. She was a lady; she could keep up appearances long enough to get through the night. Right?
Rosalind had to be honest with herself, though. The main reason she was interested on Grandma Bat's will was to keep her riches out of her cousins' paws. Oh, the wealth would be nice, anyone would think so, but Rosa had her own source of income. Her perfumes and other scented body products were very popular and had netted her a small fortune of her own. She was a serious businesswoman underneath the glitz and glamour, and when her pitches didn't work... well, she could flatter herself into almost anyone's good graces. It didn't take much for her to figure out just how much she could give and take to get things to go her way. A smile there, a flutter of her eyelashes there... and almost everyone melted in her paws.
It was as she was coming out of her reverie that she noticed one of her dinner companions staring at her. The witch herself. Just staring, staring at her with a glint of something in her eyes. Her lips turned up in a mockery of a smile. Like she knew something Rosalind didn't and was delighted by the secret.
Something in Rosalind snapped just as the power went out.
And the senile old coot was dead.
"Wha... what happened?"
"Eeeek! She's dead!"
"Who could have done this?"
The table was mayhem and confusion as candles were lit and everyone began to realize that their Mistress was clearly deceased. She slumped over her plate in a way Rosalind even thought was unnerving. No one really got the chance to examine the body, however. The butler quickly scooped up the frail form and took her away.
And so the six cousins were left to ponder over what happened. It didn't take long for the uneasy glances to turn into openly hostile glares.
"YOU did it, didn't you, Mr. Plum? You have always been kind of... fishy."
"I can't believe you did that, Mr. Green! I thought you loved grandma!"
"Oh please, Miss Scarlet, stop crying. Everyone knows you did it."
"Miss White, you've been awfully quiet."
Rosalind looked Mr. Mustard straight in his eyes, consciously allowing hers to fill with tears. Her lip quivered slightly as she opened her mouth to speak. "I can't believe she's dead... It wasn't me, it wasn't anyone here, surely..." she said, keeping her voice quiet and stopping now and then, as if she was choked up.
"D-doesn't everyone think it was odd the butler showed up just in time to light the candles? That he took... her away? M-maybe he slipped something in her food and didn't want us to find out. Maybe we are ALL in danger." She blinked and a single tear ran down her cheek, which she wiped away after turning away from her cousins.
Fear was always a good distraction. The others seemed to latch on to both possibilities with a heated fervor. Rosalind hid her face in her paws and weeped openly, which just added to the rising panic in the room. Heh, there was no way anyone would think to blame her now. The only solid evidence was still tied securely around her tail, carefully readjusted into the exact place it had been the rest of the night. As for the body itself... well, grandma had a lot of fur and she doubted anyone would see the bruises.
And if her act didn't fool the police, a bribe or two would solve all her problems.
All By Myself~ Username: Geyser Eelborn Cousin You're Rping: Plum Name of Noodle: Professor Plutarch Plum Prompt Number: 6: basically, a cross between 1, 4, and 5 Prompt:
Professor Plutarch Plum got the letter two weeks before the dinner and almost immediately forgot about it. Summer school was in full swing at the university, and his mind was full of essays, speeches, homework, debates, anything but his family. He noted the date of the dinner only to note that it was the day after finals—he’d have to take the papers with him overnight so he could grade them by the deadline, but it was no matter. He didn’t expect it to last very long, and really, he was going along for only two reasons: grandmother’s extensive collection of first-edition literature dating back several centuries, and grandfather’s staggering chemistry glassware collection. Not for himself—he was a literature man himself—but for a…friend. Someone who would be very interested in old glassware indeed. Grandmother’s book collection would be a fight to procure, but he had no doubts as to his ability to secure the glass.
Well, some doubts. His female cousins in particular had always talked at family socials about manipulating the old lady to giving them the entire state, leaving everyone else with nothing.
Not that they’d ever said it as such, mind you—the whole family always talked in fanciful little lies, never telling the truth, always obscuring their true intents. It was rather like a decadent Renaissance court, and Grandmother was the Queen, the Empress. What she said, went. Anyone blunt enough to talk about what they wanted in plain terminology was going to get kicked out.
There were two ways to survive that kind of environment: do as his cousins did, and learn how to talk the talk, or do as Plum did: fall silent. He’d spent as little time as possible talking to his cousins, his aunts, his uncles. Most of Plum’s time had been spent with Grandfather. Grandfather had been as warm and sweet as Grandmother had been cruel and cold, and it was Grandfather who had encouraged him into the scholarly profession. For Grandfather’s glassware…yes, he’d be willing to do a lot. Yes, even brave the avarice of his family.
Finals came and went, and Plum scurried home. He threw a suit—deep plum, of course—in a ratty old suitcase, along with a stack of paper and a pair of red pens. A quick glance at the invitation, however, gave him pause—a weapon? Seriously? Why? Plum looked around the house in a panic. Where could he find a weapon? He put the invitation down and looked around. His companion was at the table, grading his own papers. When asked where he could find a weapon, he simply smiled softly, shook his head, and suggested he might look in the garage. Plum gave him a nervous smile and a nervous laugh, and ducked into the garage.
He grabbed the first thing he saw—an old pipe they’d removed when they were renovating the kitchen—and returned to the bedroom to pack. Pipe in the suitcase, suitcase in the hand, he returned to the kitchen. One fond farewell later, he left the apartment and headed out to the mansion.
~~~
Grandmother was dead. She was dead--why would someone do that?! Plum gulped, staring blankly at her seat at the head of the table. All around him, his cousins were shouting, screaming, howling in rage. When one of his cousins pointed an accusing paw at him, he flinched, eyes wide. “I…I didn’t…” he stammered. “Why would I do that?”
Mustard narrowed his eyes. “One of us is lying,” he said coldly. “Seems pretty reasonable that it would be the only one of us who hasn’t spoken up.”
