Krik Was The Sound That The Floorboard Made

Genre: Mystery/Supernatural/Thriller(?)/Romance(maybe)/Friendship
Types of Creatures: Humans, ghosts, ect
Preferred Rating: M (Blood, sex, language, etc. But let's do this tastefully, loves)
Number of Members/Activity: Probably one. Or two? I'd really like to make sure that every posts to their own accord, however.
Preferred Time where RPG is set in: Modern
Preferred Place: Anywhere. I can make it work.
Other Notes: My posts are quite long.
---------------------------------------------------------
Empty.

Those were the only words that crossed Ambre’s mind as she sat on in the hardwood living-room floors of her new home. The red headed woman was seated next to some of her boxes that had just been shipped in from overseas- the number of boxes was small enough that one would be able to count them with the fingers on their left hand (provided that the counter still had more than three fingers).

Ambre had figured that since she was starting over in the city of [ChangeableAsPerRequest], she might as well leave most of her belongings behind back in Seattle and pack light… Besides, she had been told by her uncle’s attorney that her uncle left his house, along with all of the contents in it, unto her in his will. There wouldn’t be a need to even order furniture from Ikea or even bring over her old paintings.

She had only ever met her uncle a few times, and she knew that he was a solitary man who lived in the house that had once belonged to her great-grandfather. But she had never actually been inside the house, so she had no way of knowing that the house would be so empty, empty, empty.

Aside from the small collection of modest furniture (a bed and a dresser that was left in the first of the two bedrooms, a dining table the small but well-lit kitchen, and a desk, an office chair, and one arm chair that was placed in the middle of the library, which had once been filled with books, but now all of those had been donated to museums or libraries all around New {--}) that had come with the modest house, the entire facility had been left completely void.

Ambre turned to the pack of coca-colas and took one, opening it up with a kuh-chik noise. She took a sip and looked around, wondering what on earth she would do with the place. She was like her uncle, yes, in the way that she went to university to get graduates in Library Science, and she was also reserved (until you got to know her). But she never considered herself to be as much as the minimalist as he was. Surely, however, he wouldn’t be so depressed to have decided that he would only need five pieces of furniture in this house. The house itself wasn’t large, but it could have still had some more furniture, like a couch, at least.

Ambre sighed. “Well then.” She murmured to herself. She stood up, abandoning her soda can, took the bigger box that housed all of her clothes and linens, and walked out of the room, making her way upstairs to the only furnished bedroom.
The red-head looked at the bare bed and sighed.

“Honestly, this is such a huge bed in such a roomy house” She murmured. “Why would someone who’s always alone want to live like this?”

She thought how it must have been dreadful- to go to work at a quiet, cold museum, then to go house that was built for a family and not a single man in his late fourties who had no one to go home to. She thought about all of the times she had met the man. “Uncle Baldric” would never leave the state, so whenever her mother (who, too, was a museum worker) wanted to see her brother, Ambre and her step-father would always have to pack their bags and follow her to her native home. Of course, Uncle Baldric, being the strange man he was, would never let his sister or her family into his house. And strangely (yet conveniently), her mother would happily comply to her brother’s wishes.

Ambre remembered growing up and asking her mother “Why is Uncle Baldric so quiet and alone all the time? He seems to never want to visit? Does he not like us?” and then her mother would reply with a smile and say “No, my dear. Uncle Baldric is just a quiet man who is not used to speaking with others. He loves us though. He especially loves you.”

Ambre always found that odd that her mother would always try and elaborate that Uncle Baldric had a liking for her. As she thought about it, however, she would always remember the phone calls that her mother had with Uncle Baldric… Her mother, of course, would do all of the talking. But sometimes she would hear her mother grow silent for a moment or two, and then she’d smile or nod happily and say “Yes, yes! Ambre is doing well…” And then her mother would elaborate on Ambre’s play-dates, then later her high school clubs, then college accomplishments.

Then there were the times whenever they would try to actually speak with Uncle Baldric himself. Never would he be the one to start the conversation (or make an effort to keep it going, for that matter) and he would never be one to ask questions. Ever. However, during sailing trips or museum scouring that the family would embark on, there would be the times that he did slightly turn his head to Ambre, and he’d awkwardly clear this throat and say something like “The weather is probably much more different in your Connecticut than it is in your Portland, Maine” or “You’ve grown.” Then his lips would slightly twitch into something that almost resembled a smile, and Ambre could only ever really nod awkwardly.

Why the man seemed to like Ambre (if the man liked anything at all) enough to leave her his home was completely beyond her. Yet she stood there in his old bedroom, staring at the dull red walls of a home that would now be hers.

Or at least, it would be, if she could ever find a job at a museum or library fast enough so she could make a living here. Graduating early and being able to work on a graduate’s degree in Library science had been easy enough, since her own mother had done the same and had guided her through the entire process. But getting an actual job in the field that she wanted to would be another thing.

Ambre sighed, being sick of pacing around and thinking to herself. She then placed all of her clothes in the dresser, remembering the details, and then began to head back downstairs .

This is something I would love to participate in.

I even have a setting, if you're interested:

Seven Hills, is loosely based on the city of Worcester, MA which had the nickname once upon a time, as a nod to the steep terrain the city is built on. It was originally built as a defensive hold, and about half the architecture is still stone towers and small castles. The other half of the buildings mostly resemble the common New England style town house. There is a strong Latino community, mostly in the poorer sections of the city. And those places can be dangerous; they're known for gang related violence and your more common assaults. But only a street or so over, are the sleek, modern structures of the very wealthy side of the city. These are the people who attend galas at the museum, eating strange foods, and casually dropping insane amounts of money on the latest fad in art.

Speaking of the museum, I was referring to the city's large art museum (the WAM), but there are a variety to choose from. From literature history to an interactive armory museum. And naturally, the network of libraries is nothing to scoff at.

There are roughly seven big colleges within walking distance of each other. As a college town it makes sense that every establishment a student could need is readily available. That also contributes to the overall personality of the city. Everything feels strangely young and brash, set over a long and very present history.

I refer to it as Seven Hills so that I don't feel like I have to justify morphing the reality of Worcester when I stuff the setting full of the supernatural and rearrange geography to suite myself. And that way, nobody feels like they have to do research to figure out how to join in.

I do have a stipulation about the plot -or the world setting rather. I'm all for creepy ghosts and maybe even a shadowy monster or two. An evil witch. Anything properly scary is good. And any further supernatural presence just seems ..natural. o.0

But I have had it to the gills with vampires and werewolves and hunters thereof. If they exist in this world, I'd like to at least assert that they are very F-ing rare. I don't begrudge people wanting to play a magic species of some kind -I'd just like to encourage them to dig up something a little more unique. I don't know if it would come up in the plot, but I want to nix vampire seethes up front. Have an Unseelie Court or something instead.

In any case.

I'm game when you are. Bring on zee Creepy, Mystery, Ghost Story of Friendship!