Amy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kitchen_maid) wrote2012-08-11 09:14 pm
kitchen_maid) wrote2012-08-11 09:14 pm
Who You Gonna Call?
Despite all the time they lost in the woods, their party still reaches the edge of the woods just in time to see Amy stepping into a small boat. The boat's other occupant is somewhat hidden from view by a large hat with an even large plume, pulled low over his face. The moment Amy is settled in the boat, he begins rowing her across the lake.
The water is dark, and utterly still, save for the ripples caused by the boat and the oars. It's not a large lake, and on the far side, a second dock waits in front of a castle.
The castle is made of dark stone, and its windows glow with an almost thick, heavy golden light. It rises, all jumbled towers and jagged parapets, toward the dark "sky" above them, and it's impossible to tell just where the castle leaves off and the sky begins.
But that is a problem for later. First, they must get across the lake.
There are a dozen other little boats moored at the dock before them, each with a pair of oars, and room for a rower and a passenger.
There's a small structure next to the dock, one which looks like it cannot contain more than a single room. Unlike everything else they've encountered, it looks . . . aged. Neglected. The windows are dusty, the wooden sides are dingy, here and there shingles are missing. No smoke rises from its small chimney.
The water is dark, and utterly still, save for the ripples caused by the boat and the oars. It's not a large lake, and on the far side, a second dock waits in front of a castle.
The castle is made of dark stone, and its windows glow with an almost thick, heavy golden light. It rises, all jumbled towers and jagged parapets, toward the dark "sky" above them, and it's impossible to tell just where the castle leaves off and the sky begins.
But that is a problem for later. First, they must get across the lake.
There are a dozen other little boats moored at the dock before them, each with a pair of oars, and room for a rower and a passenger.
There's a small structure next to the dock, one which looks like it cannot contain more than a single room. Unlike everything else they've encountered, it looks . . . aged. Neglected. The windows are dusty, the wooden sides are dingy, here and there shingles are missing. No smoke rises from its small chimney.
no subject
The disembodied spirit begins to look very nervous indeed.
"Oh dear, why didn't someone say? I'm sure I wouldn't have stayed here this long if I knew it was haunted."
He seems quite put out, and more than a little distraught.
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"If you want."
She does not mind.
And she does not think anyone else does, either.
And if he fled in panic, it would be a simple solution.
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If possible, the ghost looks even more horrified.
"No one deserts their post. But I'm sure none of you like ghosts, either."
He might be wishing for something in the forest to make loud woooooo noises right about now.
Sadly, that does not occur.
"So you ought to run along now. Shoo. Off with you."
The air flickers with eldritch blue light again.
Apparently he really means it this time.
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She can just barely make out a desk, looking through the (incredibly dirty) window.
At least, she assumes there's a desk under the stacks and stacks of paper.
It would appear that ghosts to not keep up with their filing.
Or window washing.
Or sweeping.
Or, well, general housekeeping.
"You may have a point," Meg says to the ghost.
"And we understand, of course, that you have a job to do and you're not supposed to let us go to the castle.
"But since we're here . . . do you need help with anything before we leave?"
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The ghost almost looks on the verge of brightening, then his expression falls again.
"No, no. It's very kind of you to offer, and there is a dreadful lot of things to be boxed up and sent off, but -- "
Surely it would be improper.
"Only I'm sure there used to be a staff here. I'm sure they'll come back any time. In time for tea, even."
He only sounds a little wistful.
"No. No, I couldn't possibly."
Could he?
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"And I'm actually very good at organizing things," Meg says.
"You can ask anyone."
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"She really, really is," she says. "There's nothing in the world Meg can't organize."
She gives Meg a look that says Are you sure about this?
"She's very neat. And has good penmanship, too. You should see her lists. They're amazing."
Okay, so she's laying it on a bit thick. They need to get across that lake.
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She shifts her attention to the ghost.
"I do not think you will be disappointed."
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"That would be lovely. Only I haven't got anything for tea, and I'm sure it will be thirsty work . . . "
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But she catches Parker's and Laura's eyes just long enough to barely nod.
She's got this.
She thinks.
"It's all right. I had tea just before we got here.
"Do you want to show me what needs to be done?"
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The ghost gives a beaming, relieved smile, and his hand-wringing moves to something anticipatory rather than nervous.
"I'm sure it won't take so long as all that. First we'll start with the requisition forms . . . "
And, making his way through a long, long list of unfinished tasks, the ghost leads Meg into the dingy little building.
They will likely be there for quite some time.
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That's the whole point, after all.
She pauses in the doorway to wave one hand go on, to her friends and toward the boats.
And then she follows the ghost to start on the list of chores.
no subject
They need to take advantage of Meg's ploy and catch up to Amy.
Fast.
And with only two people in each boat, that should be fairly easily accomplished.
X hopes.