Sylvan Dread (Euphoria x Shiva the Cat)

[Euphoria]

Miss Meriel Wells gazed pensively out the window as the car moved further up the low hill. At the top sat the mansion to which Edward and Cecilia Beaumont had invited her. The summer sun was drawing lower in the evening sky, but its rays still illuminated the landscape around them as clear as an afternoon. To the east of the house were low rolling hills, with scattered farmhouses visible off in the distance the only other signs of habitation in this landscape. To the west stretched the ancient forest, the twisted forms of its trees having a forbidding air to them even at this distance. It was certainly fuel for the imagination.... but she'd already relied perhaps a little too heavily on imagination in her writings. She was hoping her stay would provide her with something more concrete....

The vehicle came to a halt at the old stone bridge leading to what had once been the medieval moated manor. It was only wide enough to accommodate foot traffic, so she left the driver to bring her luggage over later as she crossed the bridge alone. She glanced down into the shimmering waters of the moat, spotting the streamlined orange forms of koi cruising lazily among the waterlilies, before gazing back to the house as she approached. The opulence of the Beaumonts' new home would have made a stark contrast to the dismal ruin the old manor had been just four years ago. The remains of that ruin were still in evidence in the structure of the modern building, incorporating parts of the great hall and one of the surviving towers, though from a distance the old and modern stonework seemed to blend seamlessly together.

Though even larger than the medieval manor, the Beaumonts' mansion still left enough remaining land within the confines of the surrounding moat to allow room for picnic and croquet lawns, a modest hedgemaze with a fountain at its centre, and a walled garden now blooming with deep purple hollyhocks growing to an impressive height.

While the dark green skirt and blazer Meriel wore was trim and elegant, and set off her tall, slim figure nicely, her outfit was far from extravagant. Not by the standards of some of the parties her hosts had thrown in the past. Not that she'd attended any of those affairs. Extravagance wasn't really her style. Even if it was a fault certain critics claimed she'd fallen into when expounding a few of her more speculative theories. Though in her view, those same critics had been guilty of far more egregious flights of fancy in their own works...

No, she didn't seek to be the centre of attention. Though as a young woman, and younger-looking than her 29 years, unwanted attention was something she found difficult to avoid. Especially with her strikingly beautiful appearance, piercing blue eyes and loosely curled blonde locks. But she had even less interest in the kind of attention her looks attracted. And she had her own reasons for rejecting it, regardless. She imagined the full extent of her beauty was too rarefied for the common man...

In truth Meriel's real enthusiasm lay less in this evening's company and more in the relics she hoped to set eyes up. The burials and above all the bronze idol found on the grounds during the construction of the house had already formed the centrepiece of her academic career. Last year she'd heard of new discoveries which, while the owners had been tantalizing vague on the details in their correspondence, sounded even more spectacular. She'd tried to persuade them to let her visit again and take a look, but lately they always seemed to find one excuse or other why it wasn't a good time. It was frustrating, but she knew it was imprudent to push her case too far with them. And it seemed her patience had finally paid off as she'd been invited to visit again. Not explicitly to see the recent finds, of course, but she had no doubt she could find ample time to do so. The Beaumonts would be keen enough to hear her opinions on them, she was sure...

She was drawn from her musings as she approached the main doors of the house and heard loud chatter from the group within, stepping inside the large opulent entrance hall to greet the other guests...

 

[Shiva the Cat]

If Meriel had expected the dull roar of conversation in the room to hush at her entrance, she would have been sorely disappointed. The room had broken into two distinct circles of conversation, divided along gender lines naturally. The men's voices tended to dominate the room, despite there being only two of them being locked in a rather thunderous discourse of continental politics. A third man sat quietly on a sofa across the room, closer to the trio of women exchanging lively gossip and opinions on fashion and nodding along with them any time a remark seemed directed in his direction. Indeed, the only person at all who seemed to notice Meriel was a woman seated near the wall on a low stool, an easel in front of her depicting a loose charcoal sketch of the beautiful inlay murals that adorned the wall. This woman cocked her head at the new arrival and smiled ever so slightly, setting her charcoal on the ledge of the easel and wiping her hands on the stained canvas apron that covered her colorful costume.

Before the woman could make a proper introduction however, the queen of the feminine circle, Mrs. Margaret Beaumont herself, let out a cry of joy and leapt to her feet. "Meriel darling! I was beginning to give up all hope!" Taking Meriel's hands in hers, she kissed the newcomer lightly on both cheeks and began to usher her into the room, the scent of her expensive perfume following her like a shadow and forcing the men to stifle themselves and bow respectfully to the newest addition to the circle.

"I'm so glad you agreed to come after all, dear. You simply can't imagine what the winter was like for me...and James," Margaret whispered, her sparkling hostess facade dropping for a moment and allowing her old friend to see the face of the worried wife underneath. Meriel, no doubt being so well-acquainted with the Beaumonts, must have noticed by now that the master of of the house was nowhere to be seen, and despite his wife's giggling and chattering there was no hiding the anxiety in her eyes, or the occasional quiver in her expertly-painted lips.

"You must allow me to introduce you to everyone," Mrs. Beaumont continued, steering Meriel around the room as though she were one of her new automobiles. "You remember my cousin Cecilia Campbell of course. From the wedding?" she introduced, gesturing to the prettier of the two women still seated on the sofa. She was richly dressed, and anyone who followed the society pages was well aware of the settlement she'd received in her recent divorce from Lord Something-Or-Other. To the general public she was generally considered a "clever" woman in the worst connotation, but those who knew her best understood that there was something like steel behind her heavily lashed eyes and languid smile.

All in all Cecilia made quite the contrast to the other woman on the couch, a mousy looking creature pretending to read a book on botany but still peering curiously through her glasses at the gorgeous new arrival. "Professor Jeanne Dupras, from McGill University. She's come to help get some of the stranger things growing out in that jungle of a garden organized," Margaret continued with a laugh before pointing out the one man in their company. "And this is our neighbor, Mr. Barnes. His family's been in the area for simply ages, and he knows almost everything there is to know about the previous owners of the house."

A sly look crossed Margaret's face as she looked from her friend to her neighbor, and the matchmaking wheels already seemed to be turning, to the dismay of the poor, nervous Mr. Barnes. "This is my very old friend Miss Meriel Wells, Mr. Barnes. Old college chums, you know. Perhaps you might take her for a stroll around the grounds after tea?"

Mr. Barnes paled. "Oh, w-w-well of course, Miss W-W-Wells. But perhaps..." He glanced almost desperately at the other men in the room. "She'd p-p-prefer the company of one of the hea-heartier fellows? I-I-I haven't been w-well, you see..."

Well that didn't suit Mrs. Beaumont at all, considering one of the men was already married and the other was far too old for the gorgeous young academic at her side. "Captain Ryan," she stated rather flatly, gesturing to the older man. "One of James' friends," she whispered to Meriel, making it very clear she had no interest in the military man's presence. Her expression did soften somewhat as she observed the tall, handsome man at the captain's side. "And this is our family physician, Dr. Armstrong."

The good doctor bowed graciously to Meriel and gave her a friendly smile. "Glad to have you here, Miss Wells. Mrs. Beaumont has told us a lot about you. You're an archaeologist, I understand?"

Before Meriel would get a chance to answer, another voice quickly inserted itself into the conversation. "Now Maggie, I know you're not forgetting to introduce me to your friend," a strong American accent interrupted.

It was the woman who had been drawing upon Meriel's first entrance, and now that she was standing in the thick of the crowd it was easy to see how she stood out among them. For one she nearly as tall as the men and stood almost a full head above Margaret, with a mass of copper-colored girls piled artfully on her head and tied with a colorful silk scarf. Indeed, compared to the chic and rather sober clothing of the other guests, the artist looked like a runaway gypsy dressed head to tow in loose silk garments spotted here and there with flecks of paint. Her makeup was much more dramatic than either Margaret or Cecilia's, her hazel eyes shining like gems in a pit of shadow and her plush lips further emphasized by a color that better society could only describe as "vampy."

Still, Margaret's face shone a certain light of pride and deliciously naughty scandal as the woman stepped forward, took Meriel's hand in her own, and kissed it as though she were a gallant knight out a fairytale. "You must have heard of the eminent Boston painter, Miss Alliette Dee?" the hostess asked her friend, wondering what she would make of the eccentric.

"Oh please, Alliette is fine," the artist replied, her name sounding like "Elliott" though her accent. Stepping back, she began to circle Meriel slowly, observing the woman's fine bone structure and and strong coloring. She looked rather like a statue of Athena the artist had seen once in a museum, albeit in a much nicer suit and with legs that would have put Venus herself to shame. Alliette was already planning out the portrait she could paint with a model like that, and an approving smile crossed her lips.

"We met in New York last winter," Mrs. Beaumont explained, sensing the growing resentment from Cecilia behind her as the artist seemed fixated on the archaeologist's beauty rather than her own. "After I told her about the house, I simply had to--"

"I invited myself, Maggie dear, and don't you dare say a word to the contrary," Alliette scolded, slipping a little wink to Meriel. "You've damaged your reputation enough by inviting the likes of me here, but I wouldn't worry too much. Once I start showing my series on your house, you'll need to hire all the muscle in Chicago to keep people from breaking down your doors."

The two women chuckled softly, and Margaret looked like she was about to say more when one of the maids announced tea on the veranda. "Ah, yes, the English and their tea," Alliette murmured, as the party began to move out the back door to a wide terrace that overlooked the garden beyond. It wasn't quite as formal as dinner would be, but all the same the guests began to pair up, leaving the artist next to the newest arrival. "Well well, Miss Wells," the painter continued, "Fancy a bit of fresh air? Maggie's cook makes these little cake things...I dunno what you call 'em, something French. But they are to die for..."

 

[Euphoria]

The woman sketching in charcoal caught Meriel's eye as she entered, but she barely had time to glance at the intriguing stranger before Margaret was upon her. She couldn't help noticing the undercurrent of worry her hostess was making her best effort to conceal, but she didn't think it right to pry. Not that she had much of a chance, anyway, as she was whisked around and introduced to so many new faces with hardly a chance to get a word in edgeways. She was already being reminded of why she found these kind of affairs a little overstimulating to the nerves...

“Oh, I'd like to think I could manage to find my way around the gardens without the benefit of male guidance” Meriel replied dryly, trying to brush off the attempts at matchmaking. Her expression, if not exactly conveying open displeasure, clearly did not convey pleasure either. Margaret never seemed to get the hint, or perhaps she deliberately chose not to.

Meriel found the woman who now approached far more eye-catching, looking both stunning and compelling in her garish bohemian attire, standing out so much from the other guests. Her lips parted a little in surprise as the woman took hold of her hand before planting her soft lips upon it.

“Oh, well, um...” Meriel hesitated to answer, a hint of colour coming to her cheeks, as she momentarily lost her usual composure at the unexpected, though most certainly not unwelcome, gesture. It was dreadfully difficult to collect her thoughts all of a sudden as she gazed into the woman's smoky eyes... and she felt relieved when the conversation swiftly continued without awaiting her response. She smiled gladly as Alliette offered her company, surprising herself with the eagerness she felt at that prospect...

“Macarons?” she suggested as they walked outside to see a group of wicker chairs arranged with little rounded tables between them. She moved to the far table alongside Alliette, the rest of the group already seated, leaving a couple of chairs still unoccupied after the pair sat down. The Beaumonts' refined tastes were evident in their choice of teaware, eschewing antiquated porcelain cups in favour of polished silver octagons that gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight and drew the eye inexorably towards them. The tiered cake stands were also eye-catching enough with their promise of sweet delights. The macarons with their angelic lightness occupied the loftiest tier, while Victoria sponge and lemon cake awaited below, with cucumber sandwiches arranged daintily on the lowest tier. The spread before them appeared far more than she imagined the group could manage before dinner. But Meriel supposed that was the point. Enough may be as good as a feast, but it certainly didn't look as good.

“They simply are delicious, aren't they?” she smiled warmly as she moved a couple of the little treats onto her plate, which was also a silver octagon. “Though I think the present setting makes them all the more agreeable” she added. “Did you know that where we are sitting now was once an Iron Age hill fort?” she asked, hoping to engage Alliette's interest in a subject she was intimately familiar with. “It's not hard to see the advantage of this spot, they'd have had a most excellent view from here” she continued, gesturing a hand over the neatly trimmed lawn before them to the view of the surrounding landscape in the distance.

“Sugar?” she offered as she began to pour out tea into their cups. “The evidence points to this being the primary ritual centre of the Trinovantes” she continued. “The tribe that inhabited this region, that is. Well, tribe is a rather inexact term....” she paused for a moment, before deciding not to risk losing her companion's interest with the finer details of the subject. “But anyway... the fragment of primeval forest down there would've been their sacred grove. I'm sure it looked then much as it does now. And it must have had a truly unrivaled importance within their creed. The burials found at this site are simply astounding, the most promiscuous mix of man and beast. And most remarkable of all is the bronze idol found right under the old hall. It's clear to me that this figure is an anthropomorphic representation of the horned god of the Trinovantes. Well, antlered god would be a more accurate term. He... or she... wears the skull of a deer, and holds a horned serpent in each hand. This deity represented that most incredible generative power of the forest, its primal fecundity, that eternal dance of life and death, sovereign of the multifarious beings spawned from and swallowed back into the living soil....” Meriel explained as her blue eyes lit up with excitement.

“Well... that's my theory anyway. It isn't, um, universally accepted...” she admitted with rather less enthusiasm. “But I believe the most persuasive evidence may be yet unpublished. Actually, I was hoping Margaret would be kind enough to allow me...” Meriel glanced over to the next table hoping to catch her hostess' attention, but was surprised to see Margaret appeared oddly distant from the conversation around her, staring out towards the forest as if deeply immersed in thought.

“Oh yes, wasn't he quite mad?” Cecilia could be heard asking with perfectly arched eyebrows raised in interest.

“Ah, yes, a terrible tragedy his life was” Mr Barnes nodded, seeming more confident now the conversation had turned to his subject of interest. “And his death, of course... one night he simply left his bed and walked out into the forest in nothing more than his nightgown. When the servants found him in the morning he was, ah... he, w-well, that's... that's not a, um, not a fitting subject for the p-present company...”

“Mmm...” Margaret nodded absent-mindedly, seeming to be only half-aware of the conversation. Meriel could tell something was on her friend's mind. It wasn't like her to be so quiet. And she couldn't help thinking that her husband's absence from the table had something to do with it...

The conversation of the men seated furthest away from Meriel was more animated, and Captain Ryan's booming voice could be heard loudly decrying the degeneracy of the Spanish anarchists and their dangerous experiments in the equality of man and woman. Meriel frowned slightly before turning back to Alliette.

“Well, no matter...” she said with a slight shrug.“I'm sure you've heard quite enough about my work, anyway” she smiled. “I should like to hear more about yours?” she asked, meeting Alliette's eyes again as she lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Macarons, yes! That's the word for them," Alliette piped up, linking her arm with Meriel's and steering her towards the pair of open seats between the Doctors Dupras and Armstrong. Once they were seated she began to help herself to just one or two more than would have been considered proper for a lady of good breeding, but thankfully Cecila and Mrs. Beaumont were too locked in their own conversation by now to notice, and Jeanne still had her nose buried in the book. The captain did find the time to shoot the artist a rather condescending glance, but of everyone at the table Miss Dee could honestly say his opinion meant the least, and she was happy to continue chattering along merrily with Miss Wells.

"I swear, by the time the summer's over and I have to go back stateside, I'll have gained at least ten pounds. Those gossiping Manhattan fishwives-in-diamonds are going to have a field day when I open the new gallery looking like a bowling ball on stilts," she sighed with dramatic woe, though her eyes continued to sparkle mischievously towards Meriel as she took a dainty bite of macaron. A softly pleasured "mmm!" escaped her lips a moment later, and after swallowing she couldn't help but smile. "Maybe if they got a bite of that once in a while though, their natures would grow a bit more sweet than salty."

Once the tea had been poured, Alliette was happy to sip quietly and let Meriel speak. When she'd first laid eyes on the archaeologist, the artist had at first assumed she would be a prettier, slightly more vivacious version of the studious and taciturn Professor Dupras, but she was pleasantly surprised to hear the interest and passion in Meriel's voice as she spoke about the local history of the area. It was quickly becoming clear why Mrs. Beaumont had invited her old friend, and even though the painter had almost no idea what the archaeologist was talking about. For neither the first nor last time it occurred to Miss Dee that perhaps terminating her education in the tenth grade may have been a mistake, but at least she had the social skills to smile and nod as she listened, occasionally responding with a an "Oh my!" or "How interesting!" as was appropriate.

At the mention of a horned god though, the polite albeit shallow responses ceased, and a new, more serious cast came over Alliette's face. "You know," she said finally, leaning a little closer to Meriel. "It's interesting you bring that up. There's a mural the workmen uncovered a few weeks ago in the west wing of the house that looks very similar to what you're describing. Maggie and Barnes-y think the room was a chapel of some kind, but if it's a Christian one I'll eat my shoe," she whispered, glancing sideways to ensure none of the other guests had heard her before continuing.

"A man with antlers, and a snake in one hand, with a bit of a forest motif around the borders. I've been intending to copy it--that's why Maggie invited me, you know, to copy some of the murals and perhaps see about restoring some of the worse-off ones--but it always gives me such a creepy feeling to look at it." A shiver ran down the painter's back. "I can't stand going in there alone, but perhaps during daylight hours, with someone with a bit more nerve than I have...well, I'd consider it." Alliette smiled again, but this time the impish gleam was gone from her eye, and there was still a lingering shadow of unease near her eyes and mouth.

With the lull in conversation between the artist and archaeologist, the voices from the other side of the table seemed to grow in volume. The last bit Miss Dee had caught was Barnes saying something about a man wandering off to the woods in his nightshirt, which would have been more than enough to pique her interest if that idiot Ryan hadn't immediately dominated the conversation with more of his warmongering nonsense. It would be a cold day in hell before Mr. Barnes ever dared to command speech over he captain, and so Alliette was pleased with Meriel seemed interested in her own line of work.

"Oh, it's nothing very remarkable," the artist answered in a tone dripping with false modesty. "I've been painting since I was a very small child, and about fifteen years ago some of the right people finally started to see them. They must have liked them I guess, considering how much they were willing to pay for them, and eventually I saved up enough to get my own studio in Boston and start traveling a bit. Sometimes people like Maggie are kind enough to give me shelter from the storm in exchange for a piece or two, and well, you know how it goes between artists and their patrons."

For a moment, Alliette couldn't help but wonder if Meriel had heard the rumors regarding her and some of her more...intimate patrons in the past. But the archaeologist had barely reacted to her name before, so surely she couldn't have known anything about the Havana affair. "Anyway, Maggie asked me to stay through the summer to see about the murals, like I said, and if I paint anything else in the meantime, that's my business," she finished off, pouring herself another cup of tea before offering more to Miss Wells.

"And how about you, Miss Wells?" she asked as she set aside the teapot. "Are you visiting for a social call as well? Or are you here for more professional reasons?"

 

[Euphoria]

“I'm sure you'd look just as beautiful regardless” Meriel thought as Alliette proceeded to bite into the macaron, but that sentiment was simply far too bold to voice openly, so she merely answered with a polite smile that only gave the slightest hint of a more than polite interest...

As Meriel spoke of the bronze idol, Alliette's casual interest in the conversation, or what she'd hoped was interest at any rate, suddenly seemed to become much more serious and intense. Meriel listened intently, hanging on every word, as Alliette told her about the recent discovery of the mural.

“Well, that does sound absolutely fascinating...” she exclaimed in reply, her tone filled with surprise and eager excitement. “I simply must take a look!” she declared decisively, her mind already racing at the possible implications...

Meriel was also rather surprised to hear of her companion's discomfort at viewing this mural, and couldn't help noticing genuine unease on her face as she spoke. Alliette seemed bolder than the other women here. Bolder than most women Meriel knew. It was written all over her bearing, her speech, her wardrobe. Some would likely call her brash. And yet she shrank before an old painting? She must be an impressionable sort indeed. It seemed an odd contrast to Meriel, imagining the confident woman before her now being afraid of something so harmless. But she found something a little endearing in the thought of her entertaining such naïve fears.

“Don't worry, I believe I've enough nerve for the both of us” Meriel chuckled with confident amusement, clearly not worried in the slightest about whatever she might find in that old room. “I'm sure we'll have nothing to worry ourselves about if we go in there together.” There was no way she was leaving the house without finding some opportunity to view this mural, but it would be nice to spend more time with Alliette too. And she had to admit she found the thought of Alliette looking to her for comfort and reassurance oddly appealing...

“Your skill must be remarkable enough, if Margaret invited you here. I'm sure there's no shortage of artistic talent she could call upon” Meriel smiled warmly as Alliette spoke of herself, although it was clear enough that the artist's opinion of her own work was far higher than she was making it out to be, and she didn't exactly need any reassurance on that matter. Meriel got the impression that Alliette was alluding to something regarding her patrons, but she felt it best to let it pass without comment, instead helping herself to some of the delightfully creamy-looking Victoria sponge, passing little forkfuls into her mouth as she listened to Alliette.

“Well, I for one should be very interested to see anything you might produce here” she nodded encouragingly. “I must admit I'm curious about the kind of works a woman such as yourself would bring into being” she smiled, a hint of admiration in her expression.

“Thank you” she smiled as Alliette poured her out more tea, stirring the cup before lifting it to her ruby lips to take a sip. “It's certainly not a talent I ever possessed” she continued. “It would be nice to have a more artistic touch accompanying my works, but I'm afraid my own efforts at illustration have been of rather poor quality. Like the sketchings of a child. Rather embarrassing, really” she added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Oh, well Margaret's been a good friend of mine for... well, longer than anyone. Much longer” she answered Alliette's question with an enigmatic smile. “You know, she once took a few archaeology classes herself. So of course, I was the first person she called when they uncovered the first burials here, and I've been working closely with her since on publishing the incredible discoveries at this site. I'm most fortunate. It's really made my name in the field” Meriel explained. “It's… been a while since I was last able to visit, though...” she continued, with a hint of frustration mixed with concern in her tone. “And I know that more has been discovered since. Now, Margaret only invited me to stay here for this little gathering of hers. But between you and me, I was rather hoping I could examine some of these finds during my stay, with a view to publishing them. And if luck is on my side they may even settle a few... points of controversy... arising from my initial publications on this site” she explained. “It would be... immensely satisfying if I could silence a few of my critics...” she added with a little grin of imagined pleasure at the thought.

“Oh, I know it sounds dreadfully mercenary when I put it like that. I didn't come here purely to advance my career, I promise” she assured Alliette. “In fact, I'm already finding the company very stimulating...” she added, her lips curling into a smile that was almost flirtatious as she gazed across the table at the alluring artist.

“Say, has anyone heard from Mr Alderidge?” Captain Ryan suddenly asked loudly enough to cut through the conversation of the rest of the group.

“Oh, um, no... I'm afraid I haven't. I'm sure he's just running a little late...” Margaret answered with a smile that didn't look entirely natural as the attention of the guests gravitated to their hostess. Meriel couldn't shake the feeling that she somehow knew more than she was letting on. She really was acting strangely today...

“I can't say his absence is sorely felt...” Meriel leaned in a little closer to Alliette to speak in a tone that was low enough to be clearly a private comment, but not so low as to ensure nobody else could hear. She'd never met him in person, but she did know that he'd visited the Beaumonts before, and his reputation preceded him. An ill reputation, to her mind. “I consider us lucky to be spared his unsavoury ramblings..."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

“Don't worry, I believe I've enough nerve for the both of us” Meriel chuckled with confident amusement.

The comment took Alliette somewhat by surprise, but not unpleasantly so. Raising an eyebrow, she took in the form of the sharply-dressed blonde and nodded ever so slightly. "I believe you may be right, Miss Wells. It might be a bit presumptuous for me to say this, but I've seen people underestimate women like you before. Didn't turn out too well for the other guy," she smiled, although the painter was curious to see how Meriel would react not only to the murals, but some of the other strange things scattered around the estate. Aliette always considered herself quite nervy herself--after all, she owned three Pickman originals, and had once stumbled into his falling-down old studio back home, swearing the entire time she could hear scuffling in the cellar before she and her schoolgirl friends all ran half-giggling, half-screaming from the building--but there was something about the Beaumont house and grounds that made her shiver at times. Things just seemed so old here, and it made her feel uncomfortably young and weak.

But for now, any discomfort the bohemian might have felt was quickly dispelled by Meriel's flattery. Beaming, she pushed aside her empty cup and saucer then leaned languidly back in the chair, her eyes glancing at some point unseen down the veranda. "I could show you a few of my works, if you're really interested," she said with a non-committal wave of the hand. "It's been a quite productive last few weeks, and I've got some finished pieces up in my rooms. Do you suppose they'd miss us?" Alliette wondered, glancing back towards the conversation that was once again interrupted by the blustering thunder of the old military man.

“Say, has anyone heard from Mr Alderidge?”

“Oh, um, no... I'm afraid I haven't. I'm sure he's just running a little late...” Margaret answered with a smile that didn't look entirely natural.

"Ugh, Alderidge. Have you met the man?" Alliette asked as she turned back to her companion. "I haven't, but from what I've heard he has all the gentleness and charm of the kaiser. I can't imagine why the Beaumonts--or anyone decent, for that matter--associates with him. I know I might be a bit scandalous myself, but at least I'm fun at a party," she added with a wink, then rose to her feet. Holding out a hand to the archaeologist, she gestured for her to accompany her away from the tea table. "Come on, let's get out of here before I have to pretend I'm thrilled to meet the old fuddy-duddy, whenever it crosses his mind to actually show up."

Pulling Meriel out of the chair with surprising strength for a woman her size, Alliette glanced back towards Mrs. Beaumont. "Maggie dear, you will excuse us, won't you? Meriel here is simply dying to get a look at your lovely home. No, don't get up. After three weeks I think I know my way around well enough by now," she said quickly, practically dragging the young woman away before anyone could dare stop her. With the possible exceptions of Dr. Armstrong and Margaret herself, most weren't sad to see her go, but later on Cecilia would gossip with Professor Dupras that if Alliette were a man, she would have no choice but to consider her an absolute scoundrel, given her behavior.

Clearly the gossip didn't seem to bother the painter though, as she had no trouble leading Meriel through the house, directly up the spiral staircase to her own bedroom (and proving most unhelpful in explaining the features in the halls along the way, aside from offering the occasional critique on one of the ancient paintings hanging on the walls). The windows were open and allowed plenty of fresh air into the bright room, but Alliette was instead focused on a rather dim alcove in the wall, where several canvasses were leaning. Gesturing for the archaeologist to take a seat on one of the stiff floral loveseats, the painter set up an easel before her and set up her most recent work.

"I should warn you," the artist paused before stepping aside to reveal the painting. "My style isn't exactly...like that." She pointed up at the lovely but rather uninspired portrait of a reclining woman and a greyhound hanging beside the window. "I won't take offense if you dislike it, but you should know there's a reason you probably haven't heard of me. I'm not accepted in all circles." Pushing back her kimono, Alliette sat down beside Meriel and allowed her to view the painting on the easel.

It was tone in muted tones of yellow and brown, but with heavy shadows in the foreground while the lighter tones were farther back. In the distance a tall, rectangular tower was spewing delicate curles of flame and smoke, while a bald, gaunt figure leaned heavily on a white cane with its back to the inferno. The details of the figure's face were left vague, but there was an unsettling hint of an unhinged jaw hanging almost all the way to the center of its sunken chest...or were those teeth actually rosary beads, hanging ominously around the person's nonexistent neck? Dominating the foreground though was the hulking black form of either a large dog or a small wolf standing on spindly legs, its jaws barely perceptible in the shadows of its face, and its eyes only represented by two deep, colorless pits.

"That was the first one I did after arriving," Alliette explained, looking on the painting the way a mother might look upon her child. "I saw a tower like that on my way down from London. The driver told me the name of it but it's gone clear out of my head now. It was about sunset, and I saw a man and his dog...at least, I thought it was a man and his dog." A strange look came into her eyes as she turned to view Meriel's profile. "You know how it is, looking at things from automobiles. Some things blur so quickly, you can't even be sure of what you've seen."

She sat in silence a few more moments, taking in her painting before rising to her feet again. "Well, do you care to see others? Or has this sufficiently prepared you to go down to the chapel?" A wide grin spread across Alliette's face as she circled around the back of the couch, resting one hand heavily on Meriel's shoulder. "Or do you think me a complete and utter bore, and you're just looking for an excuse to go back downstairs and join the undoubtedly riveting conversation about the local vicar and his mistress?"

 

[Euphoria]

“No, I've not had the displeasure” she shook her head as Alliette asked if she'd met Mr Alderidge. “But knowing his particular obsessions, I've no desire to be trapped in conversation with him” she added with a frown of evident distaste.

“Oh, well, I suppose that's fine by me!” Meriel exclaimed as she reached out to take Alliette's hand, her tone expressing surprise but also an obvious eagerness at the suggestion they leave the table right now. Ordinarily she would have felt compelled to remain out of obligation, but she was glad her current companion had other ideas. Before she knew it the artist had pulled her up to her feet with an unexpected firmness. “I hope you don't mind terribly if Miss Dee shows me around?” she asked Margaret with what she hoped was appropriate courtesy after Alliette made her excuses, but she barely had time to get the words out of her mouth before her energetic companion had led her back inside still clutching her hand. Meriel couldn't help wondering what the other guests would make of their sudden exit, but with Alliette leading her away she couldn't bring herself to feel overly concerned about their opinions. In fact she even found a certain amusement in imagining their reaction.

“I must say you're... admirably direct!” she told Alliette with a little giggle escaping her lips that sounded uncharacteristically kittenish in tone. She couldn't help feeling a little like a schoolgirl sneaking off as she followed the bohemian through the house. Not that her own schooldays had been anywhere near so pleasant, not at all... but that was the kind of ancient history she didn't enjoy thinking about.

They passed many antique paintings in the hall, some of them several centuries old. But compared to the great antiquity of the artefacts Meriel had made it her specialism to study, they may as well have been painted yesterday. Far too recent to really engage her interest beyond an appreciation of their artistic merits. And in truth she found little enough to appreciate even there. Neoclassical country houses sterile in their blank whiteness, tables piled with an overabundance of fruit and wine, aristocrats laden with the furs of unfortunate beasts, seeming to scowl haughtily down at them as they passed... she was sure some would call her a philistine for expressing such an opinion, but most of them were just rather dull, really.

“Oh, I'm sure they're wonderful!” Meriel smiled warmly as Alliette warned her she may not like her works, assuming the artist was simply being self-deprecating about her talents again. “I wouldn't take my opinion too seriously, anyway. My knowledge of the art world isn't all that up-to-date” she confessed. “You might say it's two thousand years out of date, in fact” she added with a little smile of amusement at her own remark.

Meriel was definitely not expecting the vision that was now revealed to her, and it came as something of a shock at first. There was something frankly revolting about the piece, something unsettling in its menacingly alien figures, in its almost nauseating palette. It was most certainly not the kind of painting she'd want hanging in her bedroom. The thought of waking up every morning to gaze upon that scene was not a pleasant one at all.

“Well... it's, uh, it's certainly... unique...” she mused after a long pause, stroking her chin as she contemplated the piece and struggled to adequately describe it. Certainly not at all like those other paintings hanging on the walls. “Quite fascinating, really...” For there was indeed something fascinating about its unearthly weirdness, something Meriel couldn't really put into words. It was difficult to look away from, the kind of thing one couldn't help feeling the compulsion to stare at. Rather like she felt towards Alliette herself. For entirely different reasons, of course... although seeing this piece certainly deepened her fascination with the artist. She wondered what other surprises the kind of singular woman that could produce such brazenly unconventional works might have in store...

"Or do you think me a complete and utter bore, and you're just looking for an excuse to go back downstairs and join the undoubtedly riveting conversation about the local vicar and his mistress?"

“Oh, you're many things Miss Dee, but boring is most definitely not one of them” Meriel replied as she felt Alliette's hand resting on her shoulder, her lips curling into a grin to match the artist's as she tilted her head back to gaze up at her, blonde locks flowing down the back of the chair as she did so. “Consider me a willing audience for anything else you'd like to show me...” Meriel's blue eyes studied the artist now standing over her, taking in again those copper curls, the dramatic makeup highlighting her striking features, the bohemian dress covering her tall figure, as if there might somehow be more to her than she'd noticed before...

“And where did you learn to paint like that, anyway?” she added, her eyes narrowing with evident curiosity.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The subtle hesitance in Meriel's voice was enough to send a shadow of disappointment across Alliette's face, but she was quick to shrug it off. "I'm an acquired taste, I'm aware," the artist replied, a bit too much lightheartedness injected into her tone. "There's more than a few people back in the States who think me either a hack or a ghoul, but if I had a dollar for each one I could buy all of the forgeries currently hanging over their mantles," she added with a chuckle, removing the painting from the easel and rummaging through the small rack of canvasses for something that would better suit Miss Wells' sensibilities.

Painting aside, Alliette was at least pleased to see the archaeologist had an interest in the artist, if not the works themselves. "Alliette, please," she insisted, glancing over her shoulder at the blonde with a wink. "Or even Allie, if that suits you better. 'Miss Dee' makes me sound like such a fussy old schoolmarm, don't you think?" Straightening up, she went to place a smaller canvas on the easel for Meriel's viewing, although she didn't make quite as theatrical of an introduction for this painting as she had the previous one.

This picture too featured an ominous dark figure--this time short, sharp horns protruding from the crown of its head--although this time the background was much less detailed and featured cooler tones of brown with only one yellow streak near the corner, done in such a way it almost resembled a heavenly aura following the main subject. The person (it was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman based on the gaunt shape of the body, although the long lank hair did give it a vaguely feminine look) was looming over a small crowed of lighter shapes in the foreground, each one an unnerving hybrid of human and rat features. Because of the otherworldly nature of the little figures, it was hard to tell if they were meant to be small while the horned figure was human-sized, or if the creatures were fleeing in fear from a giant. Again, Alliette had left the facial features of all the characters purposely vague, their eyes and noses denoted more by shadow than anything else.

"I did that one after I saw the mural in the chapel," she explained, glancing back towards Meriel to see what she thought of it. "A bit more simplistic than the original artist, as I'm sure you'll agree once you see it, but I think it does a very nice job of demonstrating my feelings towards it." Pausing, Alliette sat down on the couch beside her companion, and tilted her head slightly. "You said something earlier about a horned god. What did the Trino...Trinovites?" The artist smiled sheepishly, her short attention span showing clearly now. "Anyway, that tribe you were talking about. Did they have a name for their god? I'm still trying to think of a title for this particular piece."

Leaning back against the couch, she draped one arm over the back (her fingers almost brushing against Meriel's soft locks) and looked back towards the painting. "As for where I learned it...you might as well ask where I learned to breathe, or dream. Art has always been like that for me," Alliette explained, remembering those early days when a sketchpad would cover her entire lap and her parents would scold her for wasting pencils on her drawings. "I was lucky though. You see, my father was one of the best clockmakers in Boston, and even though we weren't exactly weathy, he still had a lot of high class patrons who'd come in to either buy clocks or have him repair theirs. All of us kids used to help out where we could, but we spent a lot of time doing our homework right there in the shop. Except for me of course, I was always scribbling away making pictures, as far back as I can remember."

"Then one day this rich fellow comes into the shop: a Mr. John Adams Eliot, a real bigwig in the Boston art scene. He happened to look over my shoulder at what I was drawing, and I guess it must have impressed him, because he told my folks that if they didn't enroll me in art classes it'd be 'a complete and utter squandering of the girl's talent'," Alliette continued, over-exaggerating her impersonation of the man's thick accent. "Mr. Eliot was very kind to me though. He was something of an artist himself, and made sure I got to take classes with some of the best teachers in the city. When I was old enough, he even got some of my paintings in an amateur show at his club, and that was sort of the start of my professional career."

The artist let out a sigh. "He passed away a few years back, the sweet old man. But I've made a few other friends through him, so I'm never short on company when I'm back in town. Have you ever been to Boston?" she asked, looking back towards Meriel curiously. "I've got a sweet little place on Beacon Hill with a great view of the Common. Lots of light, and I've even got a couple of pieces from Eliot's personal collection on the walls. I'd love to show you if you can make your way across the water." Ah yes, how many others had been lured up to Alliete's salon with an invitation to view art? Well, most had left happy, and that was the important part.

"Where are you from anyways, Merry? Do you mind if I call you that?" the artist asked. "Meriel's a very pretty name, but it makes me feel rather like I'm talking to a princess in a fairy tale, rather than an accomplished academic like yourself," she added teasingly, rising up again to remove the painting from the easel.

 

[Euphoria]

“Allie” she nodded with a warm smile. Perhaps it sounded a little overfamiliar to her ears, but she had to admit she rather liked the hint of intimacy it carried.

The next painting Allie showed her was just as bizarre and striking as the first, and hearing it was based on the mural in the chapel made Meriel even keener to view this intriguing mural for herself.

“Trinovantes” she corrected Allie with a smile. “And undoubtedly they did have a name for this deity, but I'm afraid not one that has come down to us. Lost forever, like so many others. Archaeology can be a frustrating business, I'm afraid. All we can ever hope to do is piece together a mere shadow of a world long past from the few fragments that remain...” she mused.

“Oh, there are a few names that have survived in inscriptions from certain regions. But while there were certainly underlying similarities between regional deities, its clear that each was at the same time unique, embodied not in some static pantheon but in the landscape itself, in the flow of the elements. And to judge from the finds at this house, it's clear to me that this local cult had a very distinct character indeed...” she continued.

“In any case, words alone tell us precious little. The pagan gods were not confined to the written page. They were... an experience. A state of unbridled ecstasy. Or perhaps a nightmare. Tremendum et fascinans ... that which inspires within the soul the most powerful terror, the deepest dread... and yet the most potent attraction...." Meriel explained with her blue eyes lighting up with that spirited gleam once again, a passion that was foreign to most people.

"You know, I'd say you've captured that aspect rather well...." Meriel mused as she turned her head to gaze upon Allie's painting again, studying once again the otherwordly vision she'd brought into being on her canvas. "Sometimes a picture does speak more than words.... although somehow I feel this one would be beyond the appreciation of the Archaeological Society..." she added with a wry smirk.

“Well, Mr. Eliot was quite right" Meriel replied with a little chuckle at Allie's impersonation of the man, despite never having met him. "You have a very unique gift, Allie. And I'm glad that your talent has been recognized” she smiled with an earnestness to her tone now.

“No, I can't say that I have” she shook her head as Allie asked if she'd ever been to Boston. “But I'd rather like to visit someday.” Well, she most certainly did now, at any rate. “It sounds like you've got a lovely place there...”

“I... suppose you could call me that...” Merry Nobody had ever called her that name before, but that made it feel more intimate, something shared just between the pair of them. “It does have a nice ring to it...” she smiled.

“Anyway, I'm from nowhere very interesting” she answered in a tone that was perhaps excessively self-deprecating, that seemed to speak more of a genuine desire to avoid talking about herself than mere politeness alone. “I spent my early years in a quiet little village. Not 30 miles from here, in fact. A pleasant enough place, really. But of course my parents couldn't wait to send me off to boarding school. And that wasn't so pleasant. The kind of institution that makes one question the merits of civilization” she quipped with a smile that perhaps concealed a pain behind its sarcasm.

“Must have cost a pretty penny, but money was never a problem. My father was a businessman. Owned a brickworks and shares in several mining companies. A stern man. He was never very fond of me. Nor I him” she added with a cool indifference in her tone. If there was a hint of sadness behind it, it was well-concealed.

“Oh, I suppose my education served me well enough. I had the best grades in the school, you know. Enough to earn several scholarships” she said with a hint of pride remaining at these old accomplishments. “But I was… never like the other children...” she added with an evasiveness to her tone, hinting at something deeper she would not speak openly about. “All I wanted was to get away from them. You know, there was a great yew tree in the corner of the grounds. Must have been many centuries old. Much older than the school, certainly. Its trunk was all hollow inside. And enormous. At least it looked enormous to me. I could hardly believe it when I first climbed inside there. I'd never seen a tree like that before” she mused with a faint smile that was almost wistfully bittersweet, her tone seeming less guarded now as she stared distantly at nothing in particular.

“I used to take my books and hide inside that old tree. It was dry in there. Nice and sheltered. Cool in summer and warm in winter. I'd sit in there and read for hours. It was quiet. Peaceful. Just the sound of the birds singing above. Nobody ever found me in there. I could just forget about the rest of the world for a while. I didn't even mind the spiders. They made more amiable companions than my classmates...” she smiled wryly.

“Oh, but that was a lifetime ago now...” she shrugged after a moment's pause. “Just listen to me, going on about a silly old tree!” she sighed as if she'd committed a terrible lapse, evidently keen to change the subject all of a sudden. “You'd best stop me before I bore you to death!”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

“Trinovantes," Alliette repeated, crossing her arms over her chest as she took another look at the painting. "That does seem like an interesting title, doesn't it? I'll have to think on that a bit." It seemed fitting, but something about the word sent shivers down her back. Vaguely Roman, but still with a strange, pagan edge to it. It raised several questions in the artist's mind that, until recently, she hadn't thought appropriate to ask, but she did have an enthusiastic authority on the subject in her room after all.

"You sound like quite the admirer," she commented, not unsympathetically, as she listened to Meriel waxing poetic about the ancient societies lost to modern man. What a pity she'd gone into academics, the painter thought. The archaeologist, besides being blessed with a pretty face and attractive figure, had a voice and a way of speaking that would have won the hearts of thousands onstage. Well, there was no doubt about it now. Before Miss Wells returned to whatever quiet little hamlet she called home, Alliette would have to paint her. Perhaps if she could find a proper yew tree on the grounds of the estate...

Alliette chuckled at the insinuation the archaeologist was boring her. "Honey, I have sat through no fewer than a dozen dinners with the Captain and the Professor, and you're hardly on their level of boring. And that sneaking little snob Cecilia is in a league all her own. At least when you go on about things they seem worth knowing." She patted Meriel's wrist reassuringly then turned the door. "Speaking of boring though, I think you must have had enough of all this amateur nonsense, yeah? If you're not ready for a nap just yet, what do you say we stroll on down to that chapel before it gets any darker? There's a hole in the roof, you know, and if it rains I'll have to spend the rest of the afternoon fixing my coiffure."

Holding her arm out gallantly towards the other woman, the painter led her out of the loft garret to a more isolated section of the wing. The sound of the other guests was almost imperceptible by now, and the only sign of life every now and then was a gardener outside doing battle with the overgrown hedges along the wall. At the end of the corridor was a spiral stone staircase, and Alliette's grip on Meriel's arm tightened ever so slightly.

"Careful now there, Merry. These are some treacherous steps. Do not wear heels on them, whatever you do," she warned with a tense giggle. The pair managed to make it to the bottom without killing themselves, although the lower they descended the more it seemed they were submerging them in a deep pool of chill air. Rain was definitely moving in.

All through the corridor on the ground floor there were signs of workmen busy repairing the chapel, but there was not an actual person to be seen anywhere, nor could they hear sounds of hammering, sawing, or other signs of progress. Perhaps the rain had started already, and the men had retreated for the day? But what then was that strange sound of murmuring coming from the end of the hall? Alliette's body visibly tensed, and she had halfway broken Meriel's arm before she realized what she was doing and stepped away in embarrassment. Not too far away though.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered in her companion's ear. "That...doesn't sound like English, does it?"

How the women found the courage to enter the crumbling chapel Alliette never could say, but by the time their footsteps were echoing off the bare walls the voices seemed to have stopped. The painter could breathe a sigh of relief about one thing at least: the voices hadn't been a hallucination. Standing in front of a bizarrely furnished altar was the short, bug-eyed form of none other than Mr. Beaumont himself.

"Charlie!" Alliette gasped, relaxing somewhat. "You scared the bejeezus out of us. What in the world are you doing in here?"

Charles Beaumont seemed just as startled to see his wife's guests as they were to see him. "Just overseeing the progress on the ceiling, Miss Dee," he explained stiffly, gesturing upward at the gaping hole in the roof. His eyes lingered for several moments on Meriel, as though he was having trouble remembering her. Alliette, sensing her host was having trouble, stepped forward gently. "You already know Miss Wells, right? Weren't you and Maggie together with her at Cambridge? Or was it Oxford where you all went to school?" She looked back towards Meriel for confirmation.

Either way, Mr. Beaumont shook his head and made a beeline for the door. "Of course I remember," he insisted, bowing respectfully towards Meriel. "The two of you must excuse me a moment, I'm afraid I'm a bit tired. I'd suggest you not linger too long here, it looks like rain." And with that, the man all but flew out of the room, leaving the women to stare after him in bewilderment.

"He's an odd duck," Alliette remarked, looking back towards her companion. "Was he always like that?"

Before Meriel could answer, the painter jerked her head towards one of the walls, where the mural she had described stood stark and black against the crumbling stonework. "And there it is," the artist stated, taking care not to get too close. The way the original artist had used negative space to show the gaping holes of the horned figure's eyes had a way of warding her back. "What do you think? Just some local kids making some graffiti, or is it really old? The fellas working on the walls seem to think it's the former, but I just don't know. I'm no archaeologist, after all..."

 

[Euphoria]

Meriel gave a warm little smile as Allie patted her wrist reassuringly. It was nice to know her companion wasn't put off by her ramblings. She was already growing rather fond of the artist. Perhaps too fond...

“Lead the way” she smiled eagerly as she entwined her arm with the one Allie offered her, excited to finally see this mural for herself.

“No, it doesn't...” she frowned in puzzlement as Allie remarked upon the strange murmuring coming from the chapel below them. It definitely didn't sound like English. Not Latin either. In fact it didn't sound like any language she'd ever heard before. But it was hard to make it out very distinctly. What it definitely did sound was creepy. Meriel couldn't help feeling a little chill down her spine, and not just from the cold air. And judging from the vice-like grip Allie now had on her arm, she was feeling the same...

She felt reassured to see Charles down there, but the strange way he was gazing at- or through?- her was rather less reassuring...

“Cambridge...” Meriel answered, her eyes narrowing curiously as she looked at Charles. Before she could question him further, he'd left in what seemed like an awful hurry, and as Meriel gazed up the mural that Allie pointed to the sight of it removed all other thoughts from her mind.

“Well, that is fascinating...” she exclaimed, her blue eyes going wide with an inquisitive delight. “I have a hard time believing that schoolchildren are responsible for this... if its a hoax it's certainly an elaborate one...” she mused, stepping closer to the painting. She stood in contemplative silence for several long moments as her blue eyes scanned all over the painting, taking it all in.

“Well.. I'm no medievalist, but it certainly doesn't look medieval in style. Then again it doesn't look like any style that I'm aware of. Whoever painted this must've had a singular vision indeed, outside of any historical canon...” she spoke, stroking her chin pensively. “But this wall was sealed up until recently. I find it difficult to imagine how anyone could have painted this without the knowledge of the Beaumonts themselves. But they've always taken my research very seriously. It would be in very poor taste indeed to pass off a modern forgery as a historical discovery...” she stepped even closer to the mural, bringing her face right up to the horned god. “And it certainly looks old... this paintwork seems to be weathered by the passing of centuries...” she opined as she moved all along the mural.

“Well, I feel confident in saying that it most certainly does depict the horned god of the Trinovantes. The resemblance is simply too close to be dismissed as mere coincidence alone. But if it's of any real age... well, that raises the question of quite how the artist could've depicted a pagan god that must undoubtedly have been forgotten for many centuries prior. I suppose it's possible they discovered an idol here like the one I've studied.... but why it would've inspired them to paint this, I simply can't say. And why in a chapel, of all places? It seems almost... sacrilegious...” she pondered, stroking her chin again. “I wouldn't want to jump to any premature conclusions, but this mural most certainly merits further investigation... I can think of a few colleagues at the department who'd be very interested...”

Meriel took a step back, allowing her to examine more of the mural in her field of view, pacing up and down as she studied it from every angle... before eventually she caught sight of that strange altar out the corner of her eye, drawing her attention...

“And what on earth is all this doing down here?” she wondered as she stepped over to the altar, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the deer skull lit by flickering candlelight, and the strange array of items laid before it.

“That's interesting....” Meriel mused as she picked up an unusual looking knife resting upon the altar. “There were a number of bone knives just like this one found with the burials here. It's not the most practical material to make a blade from. Obviously they were crafted to serve some kind of ritual function. Most likely for sacrifice, or blood-letting...” she explained. “But this one must have been crafted recently. Those ancient blades were near enough crumbling to bits. They'd be no good for...” Meriel paused as she considered the ominous deep red tint of the stain on the tip of the knife. What had this knife been used for? She held it up closer to her face. It certainly looked like blood... and then her eyes were drawn to the little silver bowl placed before the deer skull... a bowl filled with a deep red liquid...

Meriel placed the knife down and picked up the bowl, tilting it as she gazed inside, noting the liquid had a distinct viscosity to it. She considered dipping a finger into it to test further, but thought better of it. She didn't want some unknown substance that definitely looked like blood touching her skin. She glanced back at Allie...

“Ah, must be some silly game they've set up!” Meriel waved her hand dismissively as she put the bowl down and turned away from the altar. In truth she wasn't quite so confident about what all of this signified, but she knew Allie was already unnerved by this place, and she didn't want to cause her any further worry without good cause.

“I suppose that's why Charles was acting so peculiarly. I can't see why he'd skip tea to come down here if he wasn't up to something. I suppose we've rather spoiled the surprise now” she spoke with a soft chuckle, trying to keep the pair of them in good spirits.

“He was terribly odd though, wasn't he?” she added after a moment's pause, her expression becoming more serious now. “I've never seen him like that before. Last time I visited... well... you know, come to think of it... I suppose he did seem a little different... quieter... more distant, perhaps...” she mused as she thought back on her stay last year.

“Ah” Meriel exclaimed as she suddenly felt a cold drop of water falling onto her blonde head. She held up a palm, her suspicions confirmed as she felt more droplets falling upon it. “I suppose that walk around the gardens is out of the question now” she remarked dryly. “Well, we'd best get back up there before it gets any heavier” she remarked, this time offering her own arm out to Allie.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

“Well, that is fascinating...” Meriel exclaimed, her blue eyes going wide with an inquisitive delight. “I have a hard time believing that schoolchildren are responsible for this..."

Smirking a little, Alliette nudged the archaeologist in the ribs. "Hey now, there are prodigies every now and then," she teased, looking back towards the mural. "Of course, my pa would've whipped me to hell and back if I painted something like that when I was a kid. On the wall of a church, no less." Indeed, considering what good Catholics her parents were, the artist would have been lucky to get off with something so light as a beating if she'd committed such an act of vandalism.

"This Trinovantes fella," she continued, trying to avoid the stare of those empty eyes burning out of the horned head. "Was he one of those fun pagan gods, like Bacchus, or Venus? Or was he more the, you know...devil-worshipping, human-sacrificing kind?" Alliette tried to think of the more pastoral paintings and sculptures she had seen on her continental travels, remembering the almost cherubic faces of the fauns and the noble, slightly erotic bearings of centaurs. But try as she might to see the mural in a positive light, there was no way to see its posture as anything other than domineering, the borders as anything besides ominous.

Alliette was happy to shift her attention to the alter instead, which she had mistaken for a random pile of debris more than anything of significance. As she watched Meriel's expression though, it was clear the other woman saw more than a collection of animal parts and odds and ends, and the fascinated expression on her face was both beautiful and disturbing in the artist's eyes. As she glanced over the archaeologist's shoulder, Miss Dee at first reached out to take the knife from her, but immediately dropped her hand at the mention of "bone knife."

"Wait a minute...are you telling me that thing is made from bones? Human bones?" she gasped, stepping back in horror. "What the hell are Maggie and Charlie up to?" Alliette murmured, sure that the latter must have been aware of the knife's presence (was that why he was acting so jumpy?) but wondering if the former was aware of what was going on. Margaret had always seemed like a such a sweet, mild-mannered woman. Hell, that was half the reason the artist had come to visit; to shake her up a bit. But not this much, never in a million years.

Suddenly Meriel had moved in front of her, so close now that Alliette could smell her perfume, and for a brief moment her fear was forgotten at the nearness of the other woman's proximity. “Ah, must be some silly game they've set up!” Meriel was insisting, and while the artist was suspicious about the object the other woman was pushing away, she was too captivated by those piercing blue eyes to question it too deeply. She only half-listened to the academic's suspicions about Charles, instead nodding slowly as she looked from Meriel's eyes to her lips, noting for a moment how kissable they looked.

But a creepy chapel with a hole in the roof didn't exactly scream romance, especially once the rain started.

Alliette gratefully accepted Meriel's arm, although she raised the other one over their heads in the hopes that the thin fabric of her kimono might provide some shelter from the rain. It did not, but that didn't seem to matter too much as they fled giggling nervously from the room back into the desolate (but dry) silence of the corridor. "I told you it was an unsettling place, didn't I?" the artist laughed once they were properly sheltered. "After that, I could certainly use a drink. Come on, if Charlie's going to go around scaring the living daylights out of us, the least we can do in return is drink his wine and use his billiard room, if the captain and the good doctor haven't already taken it over."

The rest of the afternoon passed much more conventionally, with the two women indulging in more casual conversation until it was time to dress for dinner. Alliette seemed almost reluctant to go, and after vanishing into her own room she emerged in almost record time, her coppery curls freshly arranged and her makeup flawlessly re-painted, her form now clad in a daring peacock-colored evening gown as she joined the rest of the guests to wait for the dinner bell. She managed to make pleasant small talk with the others until Meriel had joined them, at which point her expression lit up and she immediately went to the archaeologist's side.

"Thank God," she whispered in Meriel's ear. "I thought I was going to have to listen to Captain Ryan tell his store about the Somme again. I swear, if he doesn't learn to shut his mouth one of these days--"

But he did not. In fact, Captain Ryan's voice only boomed louder as he turned towards the rather skittish-looking Mrs. Beaumont. "I say, Margaret, where is Charles? He can't mean to miss dinner again, can he?"

"Oh! Well, he's not feeling very well at the moment," Margaret replied sheepishly just as the meal was announced. "He told us not to wait for him, so we might as well go in." Something in the way she took the captain's arm must have been enough to satisfy him for the moment, but as the rest of the guests began to pair off (Professor Dupras with Mr. Barnes, and Dr. Armstrong with Mrs. Beaumont's cousin) Cecilia, ever the observer of etiquette, couldn't help but point out that with both Mr. Alderidge and Mr. Beaumont absent, there was a tragic shortage of male escorts for Miss Wells and Miss Dee.

"Never you mind that pretty little head of yours about it, CeCe," Alliette replied, standing firm at the archaeologist's side. "We're a couple of modern gals, Merry and me. We can entertain ourselves quite well, I'm sure." This earned only an eye roll from the divorceé, but it was hardly the first she'd thrown in the artist's direction, and the redhead didn't seem to mind much. Instead, she picked up an earlier conversation, asking Meriel more about her time at Cambridge as they settled down at the table.

After the first course, the artist had almost decided the meal was going to be quite as simple and uninteresting as all of the others had been, despite her dinner partner's pleasant chatter. But then just as the croquettes were being served, a trembling housemaid appeared and immediately raced to Mrs. Beaumont's side, whispering something in her ear that made the hostess turn absolutely white.

"Are...are you sure, Maria?"

"Yes mum. Found him not twenty minutes ago," the maid whispered back.

But even these hushed voices weren't enough to escape the ever-eavesdropping ears of Cecilia Campbell, who immediately dropped her fork onto her plate with a clatter. "Margaret! Did she just say Mr. Alderidge was murdered?" the woman cried out, a sea of gasps echoing behind her.

 

[Euphoria]

"Was he one of those fun pagan gods, like Bacchus, or Venus? Or was he more the, you know...devil-worshipping, human-sacrificing kind?"

“Well... it's my opinion that the burials found on this hill may very well have been sacrifices to this deity” Meriel answered Allie's question. “They're simply so... unusual. A mix of human bones alongside those of wild fauna, to an extent seen nowhere else. As if they were constructing bizarre hybrids in death, a unity of human and animal being. There was clearly some deeper purpose to it all, some religious meaning we can only guess at...” Her tone spoke of a pensive longing mixed with frustration.

“But it's impossible to prove unnatural death without obvious injuries to the bone. Some of the bodies have fine marks on the cervical vertebrae, suggestive I believe of their cause of death... but such claims have a way of attracting controversy...”

“Although I don't believe that this deity was solely concerned with death. More of a duality, in my opinion... death and rebirth entwined, creation and destruction” she explained, gesticulating meaningfully with her hand. “But… I don't think fun would be the right word...” she added with a dry smile, before continuing her investigations.

“Oh, I'm sure this one is just some kind of animal bone!” Meriel replied with a breezy reassurance as Allie recoiled from the knife. It was hard to tell for sure without a more detailed examination, but seeing the look of horror on Allie's face she thought it best not to concern her with such niceties....

Spending the rest of the afternoon in conversation with Allie, Meriel was hardly aware of the time passing, and she was surprised to discover that a couple of hours had flown by when it had felt like only a few minutes, and it was nearly time for dinner already. She was hardly aware either as she returned to her guest room that she was paying more than the usual attention to her appearance as she prepared herself for dinner. As she brushed through her wavy blonde locks with just a little more care than usual, as she powdered her face, rouged her cheekbones, and re-applied her red lipstick with a perfectionist thoroughness. She didn't realize quite how long she was taking in trying to judge which of the dresses she'd brought would best flatter her figure, before she eventually decided on a pastel pink evening gown that she decided was the prettiest she owned. She'd spent so long in fact that she was the last of the guests to come down.

As Allie moved to join her, Meriel's eyes widened as her gaze was drawn to the dress she was now clad in. Clinging so tight to her slim figure with the neckline plunging low, the back even lower... it was daring... and seeing Allie wearing it was… doing things to her... stirring desires she'd thought herself long free from...

“That dress looks, um, quite fetching on you...” she complimented Allie, feeling a sudden shyness as her cheeks coloured a little pinker than the rouge alone had tinted them, a colour that didn't fade as she walked alongside her beautiful companion into the dining room, strikingly furnished in the most modern style. Not that she was able to pay any attention to the furnishings right now, when her admiration was focused on the woman she once again lost herself in conversation with...

… that is, until their dinner was suddenly interrupted by the shocking announcement of Mr Alderidge's murder...

“Where is he?” the Captain asked loudly as he rose from his seat.

“Ah, um...” the maid glanced nervously back at Margaret, who seemed for a moment unaware of the others. Her gaze had fallen down to her plate with a look that seemed, more than anything, to convey a deep sadness...

“Spit it out, girl!” he demanded insistently.

“H-he... he's in the great hall, Sir!” the maid stuttered nervously.

“Come on, man!” the Captain gestured vigorously to Dr Armstong, and the pair virtually raced out of the room, leaving a stunned silence behind in the dining room. Meriel gave Allie a meaningful look, before she too rose to her feet.

“We had better follow them” she declared, having no desire to be left out of matters of such grave import. As she left the room alongside Allie the rest of the guests began to follow behind them. Meriel strode as fast as her long flowing dress would allow through the house towards the old medieval great hall adjoining one side of the building. The Beaumonts had marked this grand and majestically imposing space out for their ballroom, but renovations to the old crumbling stonework had proved to be long and costly. The work was still unfinished, masonry scattered around just as it had been last year when the workmen discovered the bronze idol under the floor here. As they approached the entrance, Captain Ryan suddenly rushed over from within to stand in the doorway in front of them.

“Ladies! This is not a sight suitable for those of a feminine constitution!” he told them with an imperious air. Glancing past the Captain, Meriel could see Dr Armstrong kneeling at the centre of the hall as he examined the body. It was hard to make out many details from here, but what she could see made her eyes widen with shock and an immediate need to get a closer look...

“Oh, get out of the way!” Meriel insisted with an impatient scorn, all but ready to shove the man aside as she rushed past him through the wide stone doorway into the hall. She hurried over to where the body lay, gaping in open-mouthed shock at the scene before her. Her blood ran cold as she felt her stomach twist and a feeling of nausea rising up, yet she couldn't help scanning every horrible yet fascinating detail as she stood in stunned silence. Mr Alderidge lay upon his back, a horrible red gash where his throat had once been, a wide pool of blood around it, staining his clothing and the stone floor a deep red. From this blood someone had painted three large spirals spreading out from around the body. A deer cranium without antlers had been laid over his face as if forming a crude mask, mercifully hiding his features. His hands were folded over his chest and clasped between them a sprig of oak. Around the corpse someone had placed four leg bones of deer, as if they were supernumerary limbs sprouting from its side. The whole scene was encircled by a ring of candles resting upon the stone floor, their flames still flickering.

“Oh good lord!” Cecilia could be heard exclaiming with a shrill shock as the rest of the group caught up with them.

“I believe he's been dead for a number of hours” Dr Armstrong announced with a grave but professional tone as he stepped away from the body, turning to the rest of the group. “Undoubtedly he died after his throat was cut... but there are signs of a head injury too. It would appear he was struck by some manner of blunt object” he concluded.

“This... this arrangement... it's... it's just like the Iron Age burials found here...” Meriel announced in bewilderment. Someone had deliberately imitated those burials, she was sure of it... but why?

“This is witchcraft! The curse!” Cecilia announced in a tone that was not at all professional yet no less confident, and immediately the whole group broke into loud and panicked argument.

“That knife we found...” Meriel turned to Allie with a hushed whisper, the wary concern in her blue eyes making clear the implications she left unstated....

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Dinner had been going so well. Meriel was somehow even more gorgeous in evening wear, and Alliette was thoroughly enjoying herself by complimenting the archaeologist so frequently that Cousin Cecilia began to slip her dirty looks. The Beaumonts' cook continued to outdo himself on the meal, and the artist was convinced that the evening would have more than made up for the rather grisly afternoon right up until the shrieks of "Murder!" began to echo along the table.

At the first mention, Alliette's gaze immediately locked with Meriel, sure her companion would have come to the same suspicious conclusions that were already formulating in the painter's minde. Back in the chapel she had been quick to accept the blonde's explanation that the strange knife was surely made out of animal bone, but that was more to soothe her own discomfort than anything else. And Charles...something had been wrong with him, she was sure of it. The redhead turned back towards Mrs. Beaumont, as if their hostess could explain this most unusual circumstance, but Margaret's face was blank and white as an unpainted canvas.

Luckily Meriel was a bit more dynamic, and despite everything Alliette couldn't help but smile a little as she saw the brilliant energy immediately transforming her dinner partner from the blushing young lady into the confident genius she was quickly proving herself to be. Lifting up the skirt of her own gown just enough to ease movement, the painter was quick to follow the scholar, though she couldn't deny a gruesome sense of dread as the little crowd of onlookers made their way to the old hall.

During her first tour of the house, back when the artist had initially arrived, she had been impressed by the great hall's soaring ceilings and the abundant light of the arched windows, and she had secretly hoped to extend her visit long enough for the masons to finish their work so she could take advantage of the wonderful working conditions. Alliette didn't think too much of Captain Ryan's warnings about female sensibilities; the man thought any subject more violent than gardens and needlework was inappropriate for the fairer sex. She was glad to see Meriel had just as little patience with the old soldier as she did, and the artist couldn't help but smirk as she followed the archaeologist past him, but a moment later she wished she hadn't.

"My God..." she gasped, seizing onto Meriel's arm and leaning heavily against her to keep from fainting. Alderidge might not have had the best reputation, but no matter how racist, sexist, and anti-semetic a man might be, he didn't deserve to be murdered like that. His throat had been cut, which was bad enough, but the perpetrator hadn't just left it at that. Alliette had hoped that the dark red spirals winding out from his rigid limbs might have been done in paint, but the smell reminded her too much of a butcher shop for that to possibly be true. The bones and deer skull only seemed to make it all worse, and the candles...

"Who lit the candles?" the painter breathed into Meriel's ear, her eyes growing wide. "Everyone was together. You didn't even know where this place was, did you?" Alliette wasn't sure if the archaeologist had ever visited the Beaumonts' house before, but if she hadn't there was no way she could have found her way to the great hall and back in time for dinner and still get her gown and makeup so perfect. All of the other guests had been in one another's company for most of the afternoon up until it was time to dress for dinner, but could all of this have been set up so quickly in less than an hour? It just didn't seem likely to the artist.

But then Meriel responded in a whisper that made Alliette shudder. “That knife we found...”

"Charlie." The name caught in her throat, and she shook her head vigorously. "He wouldn't. He couldn't." But Mr. Beaumont was nowhere to be found, and only Margaret had claimed to see him at any point of the day, and even then no one had actually seen them together. Swallowing hard, she looked back towards the rest of the guests; at least, those that weren't busy calming the hysterical Cecilia.

"We need to call the police," she said as calmly as possible, although she couldn't keep the slight quaver out of her voice. At that exact moment, a roaring peal of thunder rattled the windows of the hall, making everyone jump and sending Mrs. Campbell running straight out of the hall, Mrs. Beaumont chasing after her cousin before she could get hopelessly lost in the mansion's endless corridors.

"It wouldn't do any good, Miss," Mr. Barnes chimed in sorrowfully. "The storm's got the road completely flooded out. I meant to go home after dinner, but my driver wasn't able to get through. Even if we call the police right now, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"Shouldn't we still let them know? It cannot reflect well on the Beaumonts if there's an undeclared body in the house," suggested Professor Dupras, her soft Québecois accent surprisingly placid, although her expression was still quite shaken and she avoided looking directly at the body on the floor.

After a bit of back and forth, it was agreed that the police should be notified, but ultimately it was a moot point: the storm had disconnected the phone. "Wonderful," Alliette muttered to Meriel once the party had evacuated back into the sitting room. Dr. Armstrong had agreed to tend to the body of Mr. Alderidge as best as he could given the circumstances, and eventually Mrs. Beaumont reappeared without her cousin, the latter having been administered a strong sedative and now confined to her bedroom.

"So what do we do now?" the artist continued, keeping her voice low and speaking to the archaeologist more than anyone else. With the doctor tending to matters in the great hall and Margaret still having no acceptable answer regarding her husband's whereabouts, there was no one else in the room whose judgment seemed both reasonable and trustworthy.

Captain Ryan was certainly no help. "Now see here, Margaret. I think you ought to tell us where Charles is, or get him down here to answer some questions. It's his house after all, isn't it? That means it's his duty to provide his guests safe hospitality. What's he got to say about all this?"

Mrs. Beaumont took a deep breath. "I have informed my husband of the situation. He is still not well and cannot leave his room at the moment. If you wish to leave--"

"Well we can't bloody well leave! Not with the roads in this condition!" the old soldier snapped. "I don't mean to lay any blame at your feet mum, or say either you or Charles had anything to do with that unfortunate business." His gaze did scan the faces of the rest of the guests though, and lingered just a little too long on Alliette's smiling mouth and seething eyes. "One of the workmen, you suppose?"

"It could be some local vagabond," Mr. Barnes volunteered. "Mrs. Guthrie up at Hedgewood said the other day she was missing a few sheep."

"What was Alderidge doing in the old hall anyway?" Alliette asked, stepping forward and crossing her arms over her chest. "We didn't even know he'd arrived. Did he ever announce himself to you, Maggie?"

Margaret shook her head. "No, I had no idea he was here," she said softly, not meeting anyone's eyes at first. She took a few deep breaths, and as if by magic a little housemaid appeared, pressing a glass of brandy into her lady's hand. Mrs. Beaumont smiled gratefully at the girl and took a drink, then forced herself to stand up straight and face hr guests. "I am very sorry this happened while all of you were guests under my roof. Once the storm has passed I intend to send Joshua into town to fetch the constable, and I've instructed Lucinda to keep trying the phone until we get a connection. I'm afraid there is nothing I can offer you for comfort at the moment, but if anyone is concerned for their safety I can have servants posted outside your doors through the night."

This seemed to appease Captain Ryan somewhat, and he nodded sharply. "I suppose that would be all right for the women. You're no coward, are you Barnes?" he asked, jostling the smaller man sharply in the ribs.

"Perhaps we ought not to sleep alone," Alliette breathed, falling back to Meriel's side and casting a sidelong glance in her direction. "I've seen Maggie's servants, and I doubt they'd do much besides run screaming from a fight with a crazed killer. You, on the other hand..." She let the whisper die on the air, never meeting the other woman's eyes.

 

[Euphoria]

As the remnants of their party tried to collect themselves in the sitting room, deeply shaken by what they'd witnessed this evening, Meriel sat deep in rumination, her chin resting upon her hand, her gaze turned downwards, tracing the geometric lines of the carpet, gold and silver over chocolate brown, a maze that drew in the eye and yet led nowhere...

Her mind was filled with something that went far beyond her concern for Mr Alderidge- who she certainly wouldn't be shedding any tears for- and beyond even her concern for her own safety... this was all just so damn mysterious... and she just had to work out what was going on here... not just the who, but the why...

“I find it hard to imagine a mere vagabond could be responsible for such an act” she spoke up at Mr Barnes' speculation. “Whoever did this, they knew about the burials here, copied them in every detail. I'd like to think my work has reached a broad audience but... that might be flattering myself too much...” she mused. “I suppose it could have been one of the workmen… someone who'd been here to witness the excavations firsthand... but...” Meriel shot a sideways glance to Allie next to her, sharing a meaningful look with her. She felt she should mention their unsettling encounter with Charles down in the chapel, tell the others of that knife they found... but at the same time, something told her she shouldn't, some creeping suspicion she couldn't quite name...

“In any case... this act may be the work of a deranged mind, but there's nothing random or haphazard about it. It all speaks to some... deliberate purpose. What manner of purpose, I don't know....” Meriel gazed down in thought again, just as another clap of thunder resounded through the room, making Margaret almost jump out of her seat.

“W-well I... I'm sure the police will get to the bottom of things, when they arrive...” Mr Barnes stated, clearly unsettled.

“And apprehend whichever villain is responsible!” Captain Ryan added confidently, the rest of the group nodding their agreement, though with rather less vigour.

“Perhaps we ought not to sleep alone” Allie's suggestion made Meriel's heart flutter...

“Well... the room I'm staying in is more than big enough for two... you're welcome to join me tonight...” Meriel nodded. “I mean, um, if you'd feel safer that way, of course...” she added quickly, realizing her words might have sounded a little too much like an invitation. That certainly hadn't been what she'd intended and yet... oh why did the thought of spending the night with beautiful Alliette sound so delightfully tempting... she realized that hot blush was spreading across her cheeks again as she gazed at Allie, suddenly feeling like she'd been gazing a little too long...

“Well, I think I've had more than enough excitement for one day...” Meriel announced suddenly as she rose to her feet. She was eager to leave this unnerving and uncomfortable situation behind and retire to the peace of her room as soon as possible, and it seemed like the rest of the group were only too keen to disperse themselves as she bid her goodnights. “Let's hope this awful business will all be sorted out in the morning” she added as she turned to leave, with a polite smile that had little warmth to it.

“My room's upstairs. I'll show you” Meriel smiled as she took Allie's arm in her own and led her up the grand staircase. Looking at Allie now, Meriel couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to her... she inspired something deeply... protective in the blonde. She wanted to do all she could to keep Allie safe... and she wanted Allie to feel like she was keeping her safe... and instead of leading Allie to the room she was staying in, she now took a left, leading her down a quiet little hallway to another part of the house, where the walls were adorned with all kinds of antique weaponry...

"Charles showed me his little armoury last time I visited. He's quite the collector, you know... there are some exceptional pieces from all around the world..." Meriel stated as they walked closer. Most of the weapons in the collection looked familiar enough, but one case held a number of knives with an unsettling, even alien look to them, a discomforting mixture of jagged edges and spikes that looked menacingly lacerating, and curves and coils that looked somehow a little too organic...

“I believe he said that one belonged to some manner of Tibetan cult” Meriel commented as she saw Allie looking at one knife whose pommel was adorned with skulls, their jaws open wide as if they were screaming fearfully. “Utterly fascinating piece. Though quite outside my own area of expertise. Rather macabre, I suppose..." she mused as she gazed at it. It had sparked her interest before as an intriguing historical curio, but in light of this evening's events it seemed to take on a decidedly more sinister air to it... and she couldn't help wondering exactly what kind of interest it had held for Charles...

Meriel stepped back from the knives. They would offer some defence, but had little reach. She wanted something more effective. The antique matchlocks were positively useless. The longswords too heavy for her lithe, willowy arms to swing. Her gaze narrowed in on the weapon she felt best suited for her, stepping over to a display of antique sabres and rapiers...

“I'm sure Charles wouldn't mind my borrowing just the one... given the circumstances...” she said as she reached out to take the rapier at the centre from its wall mount. "You know, I used to be a decent fencer in my younger days. It was the only sport that ever held much interest for me...” she stated, her eyes taking on that wistful look again for a brief moment, before they hardened with determination. “Of course, I may be a little rusty now, but... against a man with a knife, I'd fancy my chances..." she stated with her lips curling into a confident little smirk.

After all, that was all they were facing here, no matter what kind of creepy rituals might be involved. Just another body of flesh and blood that'd bleed just as well as the rest of them. She tried to suppress the anxiety she felt. She wasn't going to let herself be frightened by mere psychological games. And after all she'd been through she'd be damned if she'd let some lunatic cut her throat. Or Alliette's. If the killer did come for them, she would have to be ready to stop him...

Meriel waited for Alliette to ready herself and gather whatever things she needed from her room before they went back to her own room... the silent emptiness of the long halls seemed somehow oppressive now, unsettling... and she felt a wave of relief as they entered her room, as she shut the door behind them and locked it quickly. Though she wasn't quite sure that whoever was responsible for the murder didn't also have a key...

“Perhaps we ought to move this cabinet... just to be on the safe side...” she suggested, placing the sword down carefully on top of a shelf. She wondered if she was perhaps being a little too paranoid here... but with a murderer on the loose she reasoned it was better to be safe than sorry. The Beaumonts had spared no expense on the guest rooms, and most had bathrooms attached, so there was no need for the pair of them to leave until the morning.

“That ought to keep out any undesirables” she nodded after the pair of them had shifted the cabinet in front of the door. “Well, I suppose I'd best get myself changed...” Meriel stated as she went into the adjoining bathroom, just as opulently furnished as every other room she'd seen in the house, and reappeared some time later all ready for bed in her nightgown. The long garment covered most of her body, but left a deep triangle of ivory skin exposed at her neckline, the fabric rounding over the soft, slight contours of her breasts. “It has been quite a day, hasn't it...” she mused with a sigh that somehow seemed both weary and longing, gazing over at Allie as she sat herself down upon the comfortably soft red velvet of the bed.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Why, Miss Wells," Alliette whispered, a catlike grin twitching at her lips. "I do believe you're blushing. Not thinking anything improper, I hope?"

Despite the murder, the artist had to admit certain lascivious ideas had crossed her mind as she looked over the form in the pale pink gown. If they were going to be up all night due to fear, after all, they might as well find something productive to do with their waking hours. Alliette even went so far as to brush her fingers against the back of Meriel's hand, just a lightning quick touch, but communicating all the energy coursing through the painter's body.

She murmured her own excuses to the rest of the party and went to follow the archaeologist to her room, begging her to wait just long enough for her fetch a set of nightclothes from her own room. When Alliette emerged, she was still dressed in her evening gown, but she hugged a small bundle of suspiciously lacy garments to her chest, and had draped yet another kimono (this one sheer black, covered with intricate beadwork) over her shoulders. "Lead the way, my Amazon," the artist smiled, taking Meriel's arm and allowing her to lead her down a corridor she'd only passed through once before.

To her creative sensibilities, Alliette had always thought the arms on the wall a bit excessive, but one did need to store a collection somewhere, she supposed. Some of them did have their aesthetic value of course, and she found herself staring at one particular specimen with a bizarrely curved blade and hilt adorned with skulls. She might not have thought too much of it if Meriel hadn't explained it's background, but the mention of Tibet made her think of one of the paintings she'd seen in old Mr. Pickman's house, the one of the ominous-looking monastery perched among snowy mountain slopes. "Tibet, hm?" Alliette murmured, raising her hand a moment as if to take the knife from the wall, then thinking better of it. Instead, she turned back towards the archaeologist with a raised eyebrow. "You are a veritable encyclopedia, you know that Merry? And a swordmaster as well, it looks like."

The image the tall blonde cut was both amusing and attractive, and she rather reminded the artist of the heroes of the adventure serials at the movies. "I'd take one of the sidearms myself if I could be sure it wouldn't blow up in my face," she commented, pressing close to Meriel's side. "But seeing as I can't, I'm trusting you to protect us both, Miss Wells. My life is in your hands." Taking the one not holding the sword, the artist raised it to her lips a moment and kissed the knuckles lightly. She still kept hold of the scholar's hand as they entered into a comfortable if rather spartan chamber, noting it lacked the high ceilings of her own room, but perhaps without the floor-to-ceiling windows they'd have less to fear from outside.

Releasing Meriel to change out of her clothes, Alliette began to remove her own garments and draping them lightly over a chair near the bed. When her companion for the night emerged, she would find the artist dressed in the same black kimono, which with its short length would have been immodest enough, but underneath the redhead was dressed in a scandalously sheer teddy, her breasts practically on display and the skirt only one brush of the hand away from baring her taut behind.

This didn't seem to bother the artist in the least of course, and while she still had a full face of makeup that needed to be removed, she instead sat beside the scholar, crossing and uncrossing her legs invitingly. "So at that boarding school of yours...was it like a pajama party every night?" Alliette asked, covering Meriel's hand with hers. "I was the youngest girl in my family, you know. My sisters were five and six years older than me, which meant they refused to ever have anything to do with me until I became rich and famous." The artist let out a little laugh. "But I had girl friends in the neighborhood that would spend the night sometimes. We would stay up all night, telling secrets and scary stories...and when we were old enough, we even practiced kissing."

Reaching over, the redhead placed one finger under the scholar's chin, gently turning her face towards her. "You know, I might be a little out of practice myself. Do you mind?" she asked, but the answer didn't matter. A moment later, Alliette leaned over and gently pressed her lips to Meriel's. Her hand moved from the blonde's chin to her cheek, then gently began to run through her luxurious mane before the artist eventually pulled away.

"What do you think, a little rusty?" she teased, pressing her forehead to Meriel's. "You seem like quite the teacher, you know. I'd be happy to listen to any lectures you'd like to give me."

 

[Euphoria]

“I do believe you're blushing. Not thinking anything improper, I hope?” Meriel could feel her face burning hotter as Allie teasingly called attention to the pink spreading across her cheeks. Clearly her improper thoughts were all too transparent... and yet from the grin spreading across Allie's pretty face, and the fingertips Meriel felt brushing her hand, she got the distinct impression that Allie welcomed those thoughts... and her heart beat faster...

That pink returned to her cheeks as Allie kissed her hand. Admittedly, even the greatest of fencing masters would struggle with their footwork in a dress like this. And Meriel was certainly no master. But as she felt that press of soft lips against her knuckles, she decided letting Allie persist in holding entirely too high an estimation of her fencing talent would perhaps not be the worst thing in the world...

“If anyone tries to lay a finger on you I'll have them begging for mercy in no time!” Meriel grinned with a playful confidence. She didn't really feel at all so assured, and yet... somehow it was easy to feel more confident when Allie was gazing at her like that...

As Meriel came out of the bathroom she couldn't stop herself staring at the tempting glimpse of lace under that kimono, and as Allie joined her on the bed she really didn't know where to look.

"No, it... it wasn't like that, my school... I..." Meriel paused, blue eyes suddenly widening in surprised anticipation as Allie tilted her chin with a finger, as those luscious, dark-tinted lips drew in ever closer... and they fluttered shut when those soft lips pressed against her own, as fingers ran softly through her blonde locks, relishing this moment...

When Allie pulled back a little, Meriel gazed back at her in silence for a moment, her ruby lips parted as her breath quickened with desire, ivory cheeks flushed a deeper red than ever, her pulse racing. She felt herself getting lost in those smoky eyes... Allie looked even more bewitchingly beautiful now in the soft glow of the lamps behind the bed, in that warm gentle light that infused this room and made their surroundings seem so very... intimate. In this room they were free from the gaze of others, free from stares and whispers. Unshackled from the staid and stifling conventions of society. Everything on the outside meant nothing in here. Even the storm sounded soothing now. It had grown more distant, lighting retreating over the horizon, the fierce assault of raindrops lashing the windows having diminished to a steady pattering, while the thunder was now a gentle rumble, calmingly low vibrations like the purring of a cat.

There may as well have been no world outside this room. Nothing in all the world but two modern girls, alone together... and it felt as if they could do anything they wanted...

…. so Meriel leaned in and kissed Allie right back... this time with a stronger passion, her tongue slipping inside Allie's mouth, exploring, entwining, as her hand came to rest on Allie's bare thigh, stroking gently along the silky smooth skin, lightly squeezing it... getting lost in the moment again, until finally she broke the seal of their lips...

“I'm not an expert in all matters, but... I do have a thirst for knowledge...” she purred, blue eyes smouldering with desire, her lips curling into an eager grin. She moved a hand to the neckline of Allie's kimono, gently peeling the fabric aside to reveal the enticing sight that lay beneath.

“Well... now I am having some improper thoughts...” Meriel grinned, her teeth grazing her lower lip amorously as she discovered the garment underneath concealed almost nothing. In fact the fine lace stretched over Allie's breast seemed to the blonde even more alluring than if she were merely naked, irresistibly drawing her gaze and stirring her arousal further. Her hand now moved to cup that exposed breast, giving it a light squeeze, feeling the soft flesh yielding to her fingers...

Meriel wasn't sure how far Allie intended to go with this. She never would have imagined herself becoming so intimate with someone she'd only just met that day... and yet here she was, craving more, falling ever deeper under this beautiful woman's charm. She didn't know either what Allie would think if she knew everything about her past, if she'd still feel the same way if she knew what lay underneath her gown...

But she was utterly absorbed in this moment... and she just wanted to let herself enjoy this consuming pleasure... she needed it...

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Meriel was quickly proving to be a delicious enigma. At first glance she had appeared every bit the shrinking violet, yet when she spoke about the things that inspired her she could light up like a Christmas tree. At the same time, the way she blushed at Alliette's compliments, and the adorable way she'd stared at the artist's bare limbs reminded one of a schoolgirl just coming into her sexual awakening, while the way she kissed made Alliette think this couldn't have been the first time the scholar had been intimate with a woman. Her touch was a little hesitant, but far from unpleasant, and it was probably to be expected considering they'd only met that afternoon.

"That's the spirit!" Alliette grinned, shrugging back the kimono as her hands slid down to Meriel's waist. One hand began to fidget with the loose ribbon on the side while the other began to bunch up the unreasonably long skirt of the archaeologist's nightgown. Growling a little in frustration, she began to tug more fiercely, and was only silenced by the feeling of the blonde's hand on her breast. Letting out a soft groan, Alliette suddenly pushed the other woman sharply back on the bed, her own short garment making it much easier to straddle Meriel's slim stomach and force another kiss on her. Even through the thin fabric of her nightgown, it would be clear to the archaeologist that the artist was wearing absolutely nothing beneath the teddy.

The artist rested her hands a moment on Meriel's shoulders, pinning her for a moment before sliding them downward until their fingers were tightly laced. "It's not nice to rile someone up like that if you don't want them to tear your pretty dress," she grinned after pulling away, beginning to kiss down the column of Meriel's throat. She didn't stop until her tongue grazed the edge of the collar, where she delicately took the lace between her teeth and tugged it aside until the blonde's creamy breast was fully on display. Tightening her grip on Meriel's hands, Alliette's tongue darted out and began to tease the little bud of her nipple, feeling it harden before taking it in her mouth entirely.

She would have gone farther if a sudden peal of thunder hadn't made her jump a little, and a moment later the electric lights all flickered out. "Jesus Christ!" Alliette gasped, immediately releasing Meriel's nipple and sitting up. Letting out a rather nervous laugh, she let go of the scholar's hands and looked around the room, half expecting to see a fusebox somewhere on the wall. "Do you think the power went out for the whole house?" she asked, their previous activities all but forgotten now. Rolling off of Meriel, the artist moved over to the edge of the bed, suddenly being struck with the odd sensation they weren't alone.

Swallowing hard, she tried to scan the room for anything out of the ordinary, but it seemed to be taking her eyes longer than usual to adjust to the darkness. She could make out the shapes of the chairs in the room, the cabinet barricading the door...and she jumped when she saw one particular silhouette during a burst of lightning, but realized a moment later it was just her own reflection in a mirror across the room. Letting out a nervous giggle, Alliette glanced back towards Meriel. "I suppose you must think me a big old scaredy cat, huh?" she replied, rolling closer to her companion. "Storms always make me jumpy though, ever since I was a kid. This one time. I--"

Alliete's words died on her lips as she looked back towards the window. All of the external lights of the house had gone out with the rest of the power, and all she could see beyond the thick pane of glass was more blackness. And yet, she was sure something had moved. Then came another flash of lightning, briefly illuminating the trees outside, their branches outstretched on either side, like antlers.

Antlers? Why had she thought of that? Thunder rumbled through the room again, and Alliette pressed closer to Meriel's side. It was her imagination, it had to be. Who in the world would be standing outside the window in weather like this, and what would make them look like they had deer horns sprouting out of their head? No, it was just her nerves acting up again, remembering what she had seen in the chapel and mixing it with that horror in the great hall, then hallucinating the tall figure with the deer skull and the knife pressed against the glass.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Merry," she apologized in a whisper. "I don't mean to be a tease, or anything like that. But maybe we shouldn't be doing this. Not right now. I mean, with Mr. Alderidge and everything." The artist shuddered so hard Meriel must have felt her shaking beside her, but all the same she tried to smile at her through the darkness. "I forgot about him for a minute there, just because you're so beautiful and all, but now I can't get him out of my mind. Please don't be mad?"

Her hands found one of Meriel's and clasped it between them. "Also, I really don't want to go back and sleep alone," she added with another anxious laugh. "Can I still stay?"