WEEK 2

[grimgrinningghosts]

[One week. One week spent in the Haunted Mansion, and nothing seems to have changed. The hinges still creak in doorless chambers, strange and frightening sounds still echo through and you still occasionally catch a flicker of candlelight out of the corner of your eye. You might be slowly becoming familiar with the mundanity of this communal life, and we've recognized that possibility.

Something has to give.]

[SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY]

{ooc: Don't forget to turn in your week 1/intro AC! As per murdergame tradition, this begins our new weekly schedule - Tuesday and onwards are locked for the motive. Everybody's just working for the weekend.

Additionally, a few people this week are going to get tagged by...something. If you'd like to opt out of this, please let us know.}

Comments

Sugarquest 17...somethingthefuck (aka; mods?)

[toogoodforhim]

[Wednesday is marginally better than Tuesday. He hasn't shared his secret with anyone, but nor is he irreparably traumatized.

In the morning he can be found in the kitchen. Like any good frenchman, he's got his ingredients laid out on the counter; several eggs, flour, a big bowl, cooking alcohol, sliced fruits, and oil. There's only one thing missing...]

Uh, hello?

[By the evening, he's put his waistcoat back on and he's sitting in the study, with his note spread out across his knees and the notebook and pencil from his room next to him. He's so intensely focused on what he's doing, that no matter what angle you slice it it's incredibly easy to sneak up on him.]

[grimgrinningghosts]

[...it takes a moment. but a banana on one of the counters begins to...float in a manner that almost looks inquisitive, after lefou calls out into the unknown.

so i guess that's happening.]

[toogoodforhim]

...Is... someone there?

[This is his life now.

From "Have you not given any thought to the fact that this castle might be haunted" to here.

A definitely haunted mansion.

...Also what the fuck is a banana, by the way, he's been wondering that for days]

[grimgrinningghosts]

[it's a big yellow thing. it's okay, lefou. it's delicious.

the banana floats up and nudges him on the shoulder.]

[toogoodforhim]

[It looks like a-

He tries not to flinch when it touches him, and forces a grin.]

He-hey there... Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering, uh, if there was any...sugar?

FRITTERS

[terribibble]

[Fiddleford's appetite has been off and on since he arrived (nerves, you know), and today it's swung back from completely absent to ravenously present. That's good. That means he won't miss out on fritters. Is it perhaps a stereotype for a southern man to be hella all about fried food? Shush. He's running on fumes, he could use the sugar.]

Good to see the sugar put to better use than bein' scattered outside my door.

[Thankfully the vandalism seems to have petered off by now. Maybe that's why the sugar disappeared in the first place?]

[toogoodforhim]

[Lefou has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his waistcoat missing. He dips a slice of peach into the batter and gently drops it in the pan, giving a little jump and a pleased "ooh!" when the oil hisses and pops angrily at him.

There's a cooling rack full of sugar-dusted fritters already done on the counter, and he reaches over to grab a small one (a strawberry) and pop it in his mouth. And then he's interrupted, and he looks like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.]

...Was that why there was no sugar this morning?

[terribibble]

Well I don't know that's why there wasn't but if I had to guess... I mean, I put down salt, y'know, to keep the ghosts away. And then they put down pepper and then someone else added sugar and it just... it became sort of...

[He trails off awkwardly. This is perhaps a little more information than he needs to give and also it sounds stupid when he says it out loud.]

[toogoodforhim]

...A mess?

[He gingerly flips the peach in the skillet, golden brown and sizzling away.]

Study

[pardonmylanguage]

[Oh hey, another person she hasn't really talked to. She walks up behind him, although she does try not to peek at his note when she realizes what it is.]

Are you doing handwriting analysis on that or something?

[toogoodforhim]

[He jumps when he's snuck up on, folding the note quickly in half to hide the picture and the words both.

The notebook that he's writing on looks... well, more like a toddler's been writing on it. Shaky and uncertain, the same letters are written over and over again. "L e f o u," "G a s t t" "G a s t e" "G a s t o n"]

Uh... What's that?

[pardonmylanguage]

It's something detectives do where they compare the handwriting to see if it matches someone else's. [Although...judging from the writing, it looks like he's doing something else.] Are you unfamiliar with our alphabet or something?

[toogoodforhim]

["girls who can read" is still not higher on the list of weird things than "talking lion" or "robot," so at least he can avoid putting his foot completely in it.]

I'm just... out of practice?

frittahs

[chainbroke]

[ Color her curious! Naminé's in here after Lefou's made his fritters, and she's never smelled anything like this. ]

Lefou? What are these?

[toogoodforhim]

[Now that he's done he's working on cleaning up the mess that he made (which involves wiping up a lot of oil that dripped onto the counter).

But he's always got a smile for her.]

Oh, Namine! It's just.. something I made to try to help bring everybody's spirits up. It's sweet, try one!

[There's two kinds of ring-shaped ones, the thinner apple and the thicker peach (because it's hard to thinly slice a peach ok), as well as the little triangular strawberry slices.]

[chainbroke]

Really? That's so kind of you. Thank you.

[ She can't help but return the smile as she picks up one of the peach fritters. She takes a bite, and immediately, her eyes widen in delight.

She chews and swallows before talking, and she can't stop smiling. ]

Oh, they're delicious! I like them a lot!

[toogoodforhim]

[He lights up at the praise.]

Good, I'm glad!

[There is definitely plenty for everyone.]

It's a recipe my maman taught me. I haven't had the chance to make them in a long time.

study

[amadeusrockette]

[Julia's not actively trying to sneak up on him, but she's generally not very loud and she sort of expects him to notice her. When he doesn't she decides it's probably. Probably better to say something than to just sit down next to him.]

Monsieur?

[toogoodforhim]

[He jumps and hides his motive underneath the notebook, but turns with a smile.]

Oh, mademoiselle! Bonne... Oh, it's... getting kind of late, isn't it.

[amadeusrockette]

I don't think time runs the same way here. [She bows her head apologetically.] Sorry for startling you.

[toogoodforhim]

May be, but it's kind of foolish of me to lose track of it either way.

[He scoots to make room for her to sit if she wants to.]

It's fine, I should have been paying better attention. How are you?

[kindaruledatit]

[Like any teenager, Wendy was drawn to the kitchen by the sounds of other people's working. Whether he's done already, or starting, she's peeking through the doorway at the Frenchman.

Hmm. She hasn't actually spoken to this guy much, has she? What to do...]

Hey, what's cooking? [She tosses that out as any planning goes to the wind.]

[toogoodforhim]

[When he's alone at the stove he's humming cheerfully away, practically dancing as he executes the practiced movements, dipping the fruit into the batter and then dropping it into the pan.

He jumps when he hears a voice, but turns with a smile.]

I thought we could use something sweet to pick our spirits up. It's just... something simple. Go ahead, try some.

[He demonstrates by taking a slice of an apple while he carefully turns the ones that he has cooking in the pan.]

[kindaruledatit]

[Such grace, such majesty. Wendy's pretty excited already, but she can't help but laugh at that little jump.]

Really? Baking, huh? [Look, anyone that makes food that isn't from hunted animals is great in her book.]

What is it? [Because she's already stepping forward to get a closer look.] Smells great.

[toogoodforhim]

[He doesn't mind being laughed at, at least.]

Oh, no, I'm no baker.

[He pulls the fruit slices out of the oil in the pan and puts them on the cooling rack, shiny and golden brown.]

They're beignets - it's just fruit slices battered and dusted with sugar.

[He dusts sugar on the fresh ones to demonstrate.]