The Old Ancestral House (Closed for Fetch and ALewdGhost)

[Fetchbrake]

The first thing that Damon thought to himself upon seeing the old establishment was...

This place looks like something Tim Burton created in a fever dream.

Dark and ominous, bleak (especially contrasting against the otherwise sunny-ish London backdrop (while not all that much better, at least the clouds were brighter in color...)) and looking like a perfectly preserved Victorian Horror House the likes of which one would find out that Lizzie Boarden had taken refuge in, this thing was quite a stain on the block, a sore thumb.

And it was all his.

Damon looked up at the massive building that stood up before him, resting one hand on the wrought iron fence of stubby-spikes that stretched around the length and around the back entrance of the building. His hair short and black, his eyes dull green and covered by a pair of glasses. His attire simple, a jacket with a hoodie underneath it, a pair of simple jeans and in his hand, a manilla envelope and a set of papers.

He checked them for what felt like the 8th time.

"Yep, this is the address." He said, and pulled out a little wrought iron key, the same color of the fence, and felt the weight in it.

As he pushed open the fence and noticed the hideously loud shriek of misuse that erupted from it (earning quite a few glares from passerbys, as all he could do was offer a sheepish smile and an apologetic shrug), he walked up to the door and heard the creaking of the floorboards underneath him.

"And to Damon, my loving Grandson, I bequeath to you our Family's ancestral house in London, England."

"I'm sorry, what?" Damon's incredulous question came from him without his say, blinking in surprise and earning quite a few looks from assorted family and friends around him.

"Well, it says so right here son. You are Damon, yes?" He held up the will to him, which he grabbed and looked at. "Yep, says so right here. The paperworks been filed and the deed is now in your name."

"Well, that's good for you, right?" Asked his cousin Dylan, who had gotten the fortune their grandfather left behind and made no effort in trying to sound smug about the situation. "Now you got a place to stay!"

"I think it should be fun!" Grinned his other cousin Tammy, who had gotten the house that his grandfather owned, as well as the two cars that came with it.

Damon gave an annoyed scowl but felt his father touch his shoulder. "It's an antique house, Damon! Think about it like this, we spruce it up, we make it inhabitable, we sell it, we make a profit and go from there! Sounds good, right?"

"Sounds good, if not impossible." Damon said with a sigh as he looked at the state the house was in. Dust linings about an inch thick. Old blankets wrapping around the furniture. The whole place screamed...Cliche.

It was murder on anyone with sinus problems.

"Well." He sighed. "May as well see what I've got going on here...' And up the stairs he went.

 

[ALewdGhost]

Carrow Hall, London, 1865

Alexandra Carrow, affectionatly called Ally, took a stroll through her garden. She did this quite often lately. Everytime, when her husband went to bed early and her wound up libido kept her awake. She loved Thomas, really, she did. But in regard to his...marital duties, he fell short on occasion, leaving her with with this gnawing, unfullfilled desire.
But the fresh air helped. Sometimes.
But the warm summer air in this particular night seemed only to make things worse.
The house behind her was silent, all windows dark...All, except for one, as Ally noticed to her surprise. Of course, Catherine and her newly wed husband hadn't gone to bed yet, as it seemed. They were both old friends of Ally and had paid them a visist, before embarking on their honeymoon through Europe. They were a wonderfull couple, deeply in love and looked at each other with that mixture of pure love and barely constrained desire, most newlywed couples shared. It wasn't hard to imagine, how they would spent the night.
Following a sudden intuition and with a mixture of curiosity and desire, Ally moved closer to the window.

She had forgotten how long she had watchet the two, standing on her toes, grabbing the cold stone of the windowframe with one hand, the other had found a way under her nightgown and between her legs. The two were a beautifull couple, indeed...
Then, a shriek. "There's someone!" A metallic clicking a shot and for the shortest glimpse Ally felt a searing headache, not unlike a migraine.
Then...Darkness.

Carrow Hall, London, Today

The worst thing about death (or undead, or un-life) was boredom. It took Ally some time to realize the rules of her new existence. She could move freely, and unseen...At least a few miles around the place of her death. And within the confines of her mansion, she could appear. Luckily not only in the same way she died...The nightgown was not the problem, silken and actually quite fashionable. The big whole in her...less so. She preferred to appear intact. She had always been a little vain and took immense pride in her long, dark hair, shapely form (the birth of two children had done little to ruin that!) and green eyes...She preferred to have them both.
Yet, in the past century, she had barely bothered to appear after all. Why? Noone lived in this mansion anymore and apart from the occasional adventurous couple of teenagers noone came here anymore. Leaving her alone with her thoughts and the same unfullfilled desire that has plagued her in her last night as a living, breathing woman.
Maybe this was hell... But if this was the punishment for watching your guests have sex....It was unfair.
At least, there were still the neighbours...And the ability to pass unseen through walls and doors was quite usefull for a woman with a voyeuristic streak.

But in the past weeks, some things had changed...People had come...Obviously workers, who had fixed the plumbing and fiddled around with cables and wires. It was by far the most commotion going on in this house for the past century. And Ally had been...intrigued.
A few days later, she heard the tortured shrieking of the front gate. From one of the upper windows, she saw a young man walking up to the door and entering the house. Out of an old reflexe, she felt offended, that some rake had the audacity to just enter, without knocking and being announced...But maybe someone would move in, bring a little life into the house again. One could hardly say, that she herself was "living" here anymore.

Silent and unseen, as only ghosts can move, she went to the hall, to have a good look at the newcomer, as he had a good look at the house. A young man, quite handsome, with a face that looked vaguely familiar. His attire was...painfully modern. Though she had never been a conservative women, the fashion of these days seemed always odd and most improper to her.
But apart from that, he was all in all a welcome sight. And the way he looked at her estate, it was pretty clear, that it was his now. And he seemed to thrilled with that prospect.
"I'm sorry for the state of my humble residence, good Sir. I was...indisposed for the last one and a half century. If I knew, we would have visitors today, I would have taken care of that."
She ran a hand through her hair and moved a step towards him with an expression that, during her time, would be considered most inappropriate for an honourable woman.
"Especially for such a handsome young man.", she added with a smile.
It had become a habit for her, to talk with people, though most if the time, noone could hear her. Sometimes, a more sensitive person might react, as if they heard a distant sound or a whisper, but she hadn't but much effort to start a conversation with anyone.
But that was one of the advantaves of life after death. If noone notices you, you don't have to care about things like modesty and courtesy.
She followed the young man up the stairs. He was handsome indeed...Ally would'nt mind sharing a home with this man, even if just to watch him from time to time.

As they reached the upper hallway, out of a whim she lightly slapped her visitors butt, leaning in and whispering into his ear
"Welcome, young Sir.", followed by an amused laugh.
It was still daytime and took her some effort to make her self noticed, if not seen, but she thought it only appropriate to let the young man know, that he was not alone in this house.

 

[Fetchbrake]

There was an old saying, Damon mused, that he didn't really think applied all that well to this situation, was that the walls had ears. And could talk.

To Damon, he didn't think they were actually being literal about that. It couldn't have been, it was just a stupid saying! So, when he heard the first series of words coming from seemingly nowhere, Damon ceased his ascent to the upstairs and stayed on that one, particular step for a moment longer. He kept an ear out, not moving and wondering, quietly, if some drifter had found their way in this house and was staying in some strange little cubby hole that no one found and would eagerly slit his throat in the middle of the night and steal his money or...eat him or...make a doll out of his body or something.

But the lack of shifting floorboards soothed his thoughts, if only for a moment, and mused to himself. "Probably just the neighbors. Probably really thin walls or something like that..." He released the cautious breath he didn't realize he was holding and shook his head. "Just an old house. That's all it is. Just an old house..."

Which is why, when he reached the top floor and felt very sudden contact with his rear end, and a cold, float-y voice by his ear did he realize that his "just a house" excuse was absolutely not gonna fly anymore.

He spun around in a horrified panic and was met with...well, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Damon was never one to believe in the supernatural, the paranormal...but it was hard to deny what he was seeing in front of him. The attire old, the way of speaking and..just about everything, everything in his mind had killed the concept of logic and, in a moment, accepted the ghost that was now standing before him.

His body, however, was always slow on that sort of uptake.

"Holy fuck-" He fell back, thankfully NOT down the stairs, lest he join his ghostly new companion in the afterlife but fell with enough weight and force to drive the air from his lungs and kicked up a good cloud of dust around him, obscuring his vision for a moment and accentuating the ethereal glow of...the spectre? Spectress? Ghostest with the mostest? It was hard to tell.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry." he said quickly, his feet suddenly finding purchase on the ground enough to push him back and away from her, the synapses in his brain firing and telling him that, this was how he was going to die. By a ghost in a house he didn't even fucking want. "I-I didn't mean to intrude, please don't hurt me."

 

[ALewdGhost]

Restraint had never been Ally's strong side. If she would have taken a few moments, before scaring the hell out of her visitor, she might have considered to at least wait, until he was a little further away from the stairs. Having the first living person in a long time fall to his untimely death mere moments after he arrived was certainly the last thing, she wanted. Yet, if the consideration were her strong side, she probably wouldn't have been shot and damned to haunt this place in the first place.
But this time, there were at least no deadly consequences to her mischief. There were worse things, than kicking up some dust.

"Language, young man!" It was more a victorian reflex, than genuine feeling. And a tad hypocritical, given the fact, that one of her last thoughts as a living being was aimed at two of her guests and good friends doing exactly that. Fucking. But old habits died slowly and despite the moral failings she might have (or had), she had never cursed in public. An over-ambitious libido was one thing, but good manners another.
Speaking of manners, she remembered her own, almost forgotten (and probably very out of date) manners and made a curtsy
"My apologies, I guess introductions are in order. Alexandra Magdalene Carrow, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And no, I'm not going to hurt you. Since you seem to own a key to this mansion, I suppose you came into possession of it by lawfull means. Excuse my...rather intrusive greeting, I haven't had company in a very long time and seem to have forgotten my manners. It won't happen again"
Well, I'll try. But if you ever walk this charming derriere around here naked, I will absolutely touch it again...
Ally straightended herself, adjusting her attire and hovered a few paces closer to her guest. Though it should be impossible for a spirit to blush, she did, as she looked down on herself. A sheer nightgown was hardly appropriate attire to receive visitors. Anyway, what a better way to get acquainted, than being scared out of your mind by a dead, yet shapely victorian lady.
With an excusing smile she spread her arms in a welcoming gesture

"I can understand, that this is quite strange, but nonetheless: Welcome."

 

[Fetchbrake]

There were a lot, and I mean a LOT of thoughts that ran through Damon's head at this exact moment, and a fair amount of them pertaining to the sheer strangeness of the situation. Mainly, in his entire life, if your house was haunted, it was likely one of multiple scenarios, including but not limited to murder, general hauntings, demonic presence and more often than not, aliens.

Okay, maybe not so much that last one, but the point he was telling himself was this was BEYOND not normal. She was...warm and welcoming and, god help him for even CONSIDERING this part but extremely easy on the eyes. Those old victorian dresses left little to the imagination and this lady was quite stacked.

He fought back the urge to apologize to the ghost lady for chastising him for swearing (this was seriously surreal and he half wondered if there was a gas leak in the building somewhere), but he took it for the grain of salt it seemed and picked himself up, dusting himself off and creating a small cloud of dust and ash and what not that clung to his clothes. Finally feeling substantially cleaner, he looked up at her. She stood taller than him, which may have been attributed to the fact she was floating, and spoke very highly and very well versed of herself.

But help him, he couldn't help but think the name sounded FAMILIAR.

"Ah..." he put his hand to his stomach and gave a little bow, feeling it was only right considering the generation shift between the apparent previous home owner and the current. "Damon Empsire, and it's...nice to meet you too?"

He wasn't sure how to take this. She could be waiting for him to drop his guard and then BAM! Knife to the back of the head.

But, again, take it for what it was worth. So, he stood up again and allowed the silence to fall between the two, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. "So...um..." He began. "Why are you haunting this...my...your? Our house?" He asked, using his hands to talk to show his own blatant confusion.

 

[ALewdGhost]

Technically, it should be impossible for a ghostly apparition to blush, but a subtle shift in colour indicated, that Ally did exactly that.
"Well...The exact details of my condition are as much a mystery to me, than to anyone else. I died here, by accident, I might add, I'm not blaming anyone. That might be the reason, why I am more or less confined to this house."
Obviously uncomfortable with the topic at hand, she decided to swiftly change it. Explaining, that she was shot while peeping on her guests was not exactly what a proper introduction looked like.

"Anyway...So, young Sir, I'm curious how you might have come into possession of my...well, our estate? And are you planning to stay? It has been quite lonely here and despite my current...condition, I quite enjoy having people around the house."

She couldn't help but smile over the obvious confusion and irritation of her guest. There was something oddly endearing about Damon's slightly awkward nature. It provoked the almost motherly instinct to sit him down, at the fireplace and bring him some tea and biscuits. But there were still other, less motherly instincts, pushing through. Company and someone to talk to now and then were all fine and good, but when was the last time she felt the touch of a man? The feeling of skin against skin and a virile, young lover between her legs?
A little carried away she moved closer to the young man, her face only inches away from his, and placed a ghostly hand on his chest.

"Don't worry.", she added in a soft voice, as reassuring as a ghost could be. "I'm not a..malevolent spectre...Just a very, very lonely one."
Although not intended, the last words took on a slight double meaning. Her late husband had called this tone, her voice had slipped into, her "boudoir voice", mostly accompanied by a smirk.

 

[Fetchbrake]

"Well my...my Grandfather had the deed to the house in his possession and he...well...passed away as of recently. So I'm the current owner of this house I just...didn't know this place was actively, honestly haunted, let alone ghosts existing. But...um, yes. Long story short, it looks as though I'm staying!"

Which was, naturally, not the plan that he had originally thought up. Like his father suggested he was more likely to clean this place up and offer it as a fucking bed and breakfast or something to that effect. But now that it seemed that he had some kind of occupant staying here, one that was incredibly lonely from the look upon it, and...well, his mother and father did talk about getting his own place. So maybe it wouldn't be so much a rental place as much as...his place.

...By god, was he given serious consideration to staying in an actively haunted house and, well, liking it? By the gods, what a day and age to be alive. So, he offered a little smile and would have offered up the reassurance that she needn't fear being alone any longer when he suddenly caught the tone in her voice. One that was a bit heavier than anything else she'd said with an obvious inflection in it to show her own intents and purposes.

In other words, he'd seen plenty of Porn to see where this was going. As she smirked down at him at her almost proud and enticing "lonely" comment, his face went bright red and he stiffened a little bit. In the spinal area and...somewhere else.

It didn't help her voice was very, very nice to his ears.

"Well, yes, I can assure you with me around, ma'am..." He offered a smile. "You won't be lonely any longer."

Whether she took that implication as her own was up to her...but something told Damon she was going to take it in the most uncouth way possible. And to Damon?...Well, it would be his fault for not catching such an open statement, now wouldn't it?