InsaneJournal

Who: Bernadette/Bluebeard {narrative}
What: Bernadette, meet RUSSIA. It’s kinda cold.
Where: Village near the palace; Pub
When: Late Evening of Day 3
Warnings: ---



When she’d moved into the apartment building it had been quiet. Normally she’d have rejoiced in the existence a truly peaceful apartment complex, but there was something disconcerting about the noiseless hallways and the rooms seemingly devoid of all life. Bernadette Prideux realized moving in during the middle of the day very well could mean the majority of the inhabitants were out, or at work, but surely there had to be someone there…

Locking the door behind her, she surveyed her new apartment.

The movers had brought everything in and arranged it to her instructions over a week before, and by the looks of things they’d gotten it mostly right, as far as furniture placement. The boxes, neatly and clearly labeled by room, were organized into the appropriate piles for her to start on. She did not trust movers to unpack boxes of antique tableware, fine china or silver and ivory-touched ornamentation while she was not there, so that would be to be taken care of quickly. She wanted to get to work, meet her neighbors and start entertaining as early as possible, and not necessarily in that order.

Moving further in and running her hands over some of her favorite furniture pieces, she debated a glass of wine before starting in on what needed to be done, and made a turn for the kitchen. Heels clicked on the tile floors, reverberating off the walls and echoing eerily all around her. She hoped the house would not sound so hollow once there was some furniture set out. She’d only opened the refrigerator and had been looking over the label of an unopened bottle of sauvignon blanc when she noticed her change in shadow—something was shining behind her.

As she turned to detect the source of the light, she began to make out smells that certainly did not belong in her apartment—the smell of hay, piss, dirt and cheap beer. Vaguely, she could suddenly make out the noise of a rather boisterous crowd, and when she’d turned all the way around a white light took over her vision and she saw nothing.

When the light died and the vision cleared, Bernadette and her bottle of wine were seated at the end of a table in a crowded, noisy room, filled with sounds of animated conversation attempting to drown out all others in a tongue she didn’t immediately recognize.

What the hell…?!




{More to be added later in the comments}