Morningstar Manor

In the conservatory, Leo sat staring at his notebook. On his hard drive was most of a novel. He had no idea where it had come from, just that it was there, he had obviously written it and it was GOOD. Pity it wasn't finished.

He sighed. "No," he said, "why would anyone DO that?"

#

In the library Amarie sat and watched her new friend shelve some books. "So - a librarian," she said. "Pretty good job for someone who can't talk."

Barbara grinned at her then said, "Sssshhhh!"

#

In the garden Palug had found a warmish spot on the pedestal of the demon statue. He watched the maze - waiting to see if anything small and furry ran out.

#

Keira stood in the lobby waiting for her car and clutching her purse. Final fittings for her costume today, dress rehearsal on Thursday afternoon and evening, and then her first ever performance in the City of Tosca. She shouldn't be nervous - but she was.

#

Del used a skewer to dip a cherry into the dark chocolate and coated it with a twist of his wrist. He eased it off the skwere and put it on the baking parchement to dry then dipped another out of the brandy they had been soaking in for months. Christmas was coming! Time to get ready.

#

Up a ladder Nick painstakingly tightened the lamps in one of the chandeliers. "Try that," he said and Phil snapped the light on. It flickered and snapped back off again. "Bum," Nick said. "I've run out of bulbs. Can you fetch some?" Phil nodded and went.

Near dusk, two ghosts were drifting around the basement, looking or unsuspecting folk that they might chat up, scare, or both; in the laundry room, garage, games room, or gym.

Or maybe even in the dank back passages?

It was going to be a big night on Saturday so Nick was getting some jobs done in anticipation. One of the biggest jobs was to polish the sprung floor of the ballroom and luckily he had a machine for that.

It purred as he followed it back and forth across the room. And incredibly boring job but luckily Nick preferred boredom to certain sorts of excitement any day.

Padget enjoyed the garden in Morningstar Manor's courtyard all the time, but mostly in the early day when the flowers were coated in dew and nobody was around. It was quiet, something she relished, and the wet grass on her bare feet felt good.

If someone had asked her if she were happy, the answer rising to her lips would have been automatically a "yes." But the truth was, her husband and children, the people who should have brought her the most joy, were the same who were slowly driving her toward thoughts of running away to join the circus.

Maybe she should give up the idea of being a stay-home mom and housewife; maybe she wasn't cut out for it.

She sighed.

Emma was trying something out, she had an idea for something to give Ang and Alec for when the baby was born, but knowing how bad she was with paint, well, she knew she needed practice. So, here she was, working in the gazebo, on a small watercolour of a single flower. Something simple. Except, it wasn't.

With a sigh that was more like a grumpy growl, she wadded the damp paper into a ball and hurled it into the bag she was using as a bin along with the others she'd already tried. She could draw a straight line, she could do whole panoramic views with pencils, chalks, pastels, even wax bloody crayons. She just couldn't do a thing with paint. Carefully, each movement controlled, she cleaned the brush, the treasonous non-painting what she wanted paint brush, and set it down as she cleaned the little dips in the paint tray. At least it was only water colour, not something more important, but, this was definitely not her strong point. Maybe she needed college sooner rather than later. A lot sooner. With the painting things closed up, set back in her duffel bag, she opened a clean pad, and pulled a pencil from where it was tucked in her hair. Sketching was easy, the flower seemed to grow on the page, and in a short space of time she was humming happily and highlighting the simple sketch with hints of green and yellow. She looked up though as someone came into the gazebo, blushing as she realised some of her attempts had fallen out of the bag and were drifting across the floor, "Hello, er, sorry about the mess."

The darkhaired woman had been sitting in the garden area of the Mocha for well over an hour already. In that time she had aten half of a donught (the other half was sitting on its plate, forgotten), had drank two thirds of a cappuccino (the rest was now cold, obviously), and had almost finished writing her column for the July issue of the Gourmet magazine. Emily was now proof reading what she had written with a concentrated pout.

Vincenzo had rung in before he arrived and Frank had organised Nick to meet him in the parking garage with a trolley and show him where to park. The staff car park was tucked away over by the old workshops and he found his space without difficulty then the big maintenance man was called away to another job and Vincenzo loaded his bags and boxes onto the trolley, pushed them across to the elevators and rode up to the lobby.

He parked the trolley there and began to move his things a few at a time, through to his new apartment.

New home, new job, new life.

In a mirror by the back door to the ball room, there were two ghosts.

They were there often. It was their mirror. They roamed, but never strayed far.

They were haunting the mirror together now, curled up inside it as only ghosts can, and, to mortal human eyes, doing nothing at all -- not even visible on the outside. But happy as clams.

When one of the lady tenants comes shrieking and sobbing out of the ballroom demanding that all the mirrors be removed, they can only be covered, but taking down the one by the ladies and getns restroom was something that could be done.

Now that the coast appeared to be clear again, Nick was refixing it to the wall and humming the melody of one of the tunes the band was practicing.

Lift number two, fully restored and looking good as new, was Charlie's favourite means of getting around the Manor. If he had it to himself it wasn't many moments before Betsy would emerge and hold his hand and they would sing all the way up to whichever floor he needed to get off.

But today there was no Betsy. Just the flicker of a match from the corner of his eye, the flare as a cigarette was lit, and the little red glow getting closer.

Heart thumping Charlie looked into the eyes of his old lover and tormentor and felt all his new self confidence and strength begin to shred away. The dark saturnine face smiled and the hand took the cigarette from between his lips and blew a cloud of smoke and then - and then ....

Teeth bared, an eye burst, all across the skin marks of a dreadful and vindictive anger blossomed and wept and the torn and bleeding lips whispered, "You did this - you did this to me - you - little - bitch."

The lift stopped with a jerk and Charlie slid down the doors, hunched and shaking as Gavin's head strained back and blood welled across his throat, opening like an angry mouth.

There was an impromptu band practice going on in the ballroom. Jack had taken a break and gone to play piano on the big baby grand. Zack had happened to hear and run up to grab his bass and the small portable amp and come to join. Deacon had been next, having come up from working out in the gym, and a few minutes later had returned with his acoustic and the unmistakable sound of rock music was now drifting from the ballroom.

****

Eris was in the Mocha, sipping a latte and sorting through a mass of brochures scattered on the table - all advertising various resorts on various beaches in the Caribbean.

****

Erik was in the garden - dressed in jeans and a soft button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Humming to himself he tended the little garden patch he kept to prepare it for spring.

****

Jason at behind the security desk, writing up the schedule for the next few days and feeling much better than he had over the weekend. Of course people had left the guards a good bit of candy for Easter and chocolate was always a good thing.

But if he found one more hard boiled egg rotting in an undiscovered by children hiding place he was going to be very unhappy.

****

Loki was on the roof - sitting on his heels on narrow outcropping, looking like a great black bird with his long coat flapping gently in the breeze. It was a good spot, he decided as he smoked a cigarette and gazed out over the City. You could see a lot from up here. Not that any normal person would have been able to get to this spot but really that was there loss.



[ooc: Just say who you want in the tag and if you need the time of day to change that's fine. They'll probably be there most of the afternoon, though Jack might have had to go back to work.]

Cambion could probably live in Morningstar manor for another twenty years without getting bored of the view over the city from the roof. Her certainly hasn't tired of it yet - which is why he was to be found perched on a parapet, smoking his uaul pretentious cigarettes, and drumming his fingers idly on a nearby pipe.

There were two ghosts out in the garden, just after dusk.

Nothing very unusual for Morningstar Manor.

These, though, were having a snowball fight.

Less usual.