Post #1698916 in The Madness of the Duke Marcelle, a roleplay on RPG

Decadent masks of grandeur, slovenly smeared lipstick on necks and sloshing alcoholic drinks, elements of a hellish night for a lone servant who was trying to do too many things at once. Oliver, or as his new alias was ‘Olive’, was the only one in the room besides the other servant girl who had no mask on. Instead the mask-less servant donned a maid dress with an annoyingly short skirt and low neckline, don’t even get him started on the itchy lace. The blonde hair of his wig fell in tresses to his shoulder blades; a blue flower pinned in his hair gave him an aroma that blocked out the wafted scent of grandiose perfume about the room, though it still assaulted his nose whenever he passed a noble lady (or worse a man).

Thankfully by the witching hour, an hour when people were supposed to be asleep, the party was at a point where everyone was either drunk enough to not be coherent or were going home. It was at this hour that Oliver was scheduled to meet up with Sir D’Ivore, to whom he was aiding in the location of his sister Mirelle D’Ivore. If only he could find the damn bastard! Oliver shoved a stumbling aristocrat off of him for the umpteenth time, not caring about getting in trouble as he was both fed up, frustrated, and aware that they would not remember a single thing, let alone his face, by the next day. He looked to his left, standing on tip toes, staring into the crowd, before being pulled sharply behind a pillar, his first reaction was to yell, but the gloved hand covering his mouth prevented him from doing so.

“Hush, it is just I.” The hand let go, and the voice was all too familiar, Sir D’Ivore. “Sir…it’s a damn relief t’see yah.” He sighed nervously, chuckling. “I have told you countless times Oliver, call me Alexander.” As Oliver turned around Alexander kept his hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down, and then letting out a smirk, “Nice dress sweetheart, you trying to seduce me?” Alexander had actually already gotten quite the good look at Oliver from the shadows; he had been watching him most of the night actually. Of course the Aristocrat was no so silly as to arrive at the very beginning of the party, he had come maybe two hours ago, and had abstained from the food and drink. This watching had been slightly more than duty, as really Oliver did appear tantalizingly barely appropriate. He had taken full joy of the view.

“Stop yer teasin Sir, you know it ain’t right fer me to call yah that.” Alexander would have loved to see Oliver’s cheeks turn rosy, but of course Oliver was not easily embarrassed, part of his charm.

“I see you are holding up nicely, and I swear the parties are becoming grander. I wasn’t able to find anything short of rumors from those contacts you sent me to.” He straightened out the flower in Oliver’s hair, listening as the young man gave him his report.

“Just as ay feared then, there really is no trace of ‘er.” If she had been kidnapped by someone from his world, there would have been some sort of wind about it somewhere, some sort of ransom note maybe. But the only thing that made any sort of sense was something completely unheard of. An aristocrat stealing another, if this wasn’t done by the poor then the rich were the only other suspects, and the only lead in such suspicion was the Duke of Baisley, Evelyn Marcelle. Rumor was that he had a harem of stolen beautiful girls. But that was only among the ones the craziest of people. Not much of a lead, but they had to take a chance, a month with her gone already left them with no other choice. “As fer this place…it….is strange. I haven’t been able to find anything yet, but then again, I be busy with the workload too….” Oliver gasped as Alexander suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. There was a momentary pause before either one of them spoke, Oliver was in a bit of a shock.

“I am sorry Oliver, I feel bad leaving you hear. And the house is so empty without Mirelle, and now without you.”

“I’ll get’er back Sir.” Alexander let Oliver go and backed up, “The Duke has moved out into the hall.” He pointed, Oliver whirled around to catch eye of his master’s coat tails, “I’ll…” He looked back, but Alexander was already gone. If wasn’t quick about it Lord Marcelle would be gone too. He rounded and sped towards the hallway, jumping over a few things that he wasn’t entirely sure weren’t people. He silently sped down the dark hallway, his eyes adjusting quite well. He rounded a corner, wasn’t this the way to the kitchen? A woman’s giggle, and within another minute he lost his target.

He stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded, his heart pounding from more than just the running; it was also the rushing fear. “DAMNIT!” He seethed, ripping the blue flower from his hair and throwing it down, stomping on it in frustration. He paced around for about five minutes, coming up with a plan B. He’d stake out here, find a place to hide and wait for any sign of the master. Oliver set about crawling into the space of a shelf in the pantry, moving countless jars toe make room for his thin frame.

Unfortunately he fell asleep within the half hour.

Snippet #1698916

located in Baisley Manor, a part of The Madness of the Duke Marcelle, one of the many universes on RPG.

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