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Lotte Ravensley · Adventurer Joined: 24 Jul 2006 Posts: 24

She’s simple really. Sweet, with a wondrous voice, but simple. Lotte had heard herself described as such since she was little. She knew she didn’t think like the other children, and that she had troubles in school, but she didn’t think the word simple was appropriate. She thought that the fact that she could sing like the angles, or so her mommy had said, was enough to make her not simple. A shame really, but she would have done well if only she had been beautiful. Lotte wasn’t sure what was wrong with her looks. She had eyes, a nose and a mouth. Her daddy called her his funny face, so that must have had something to do with her being not being pretty enough. It was her nineteenth birthday and she was still unmarried. Not that she really wanted to be, but her mommy lamented it often saying if only her voice were her looks, she’d be married already. Lotte truthfully just wanted to sit and sing. No one around to criticize her or ask really hard questions. She thought she did well. She could at least read, knew her numbers, and knew all sorts of languages. She just didn’t know much else. She pulled the covers down from her and got out of bed, stretching her legs and yawning. She looked out at the ground floor, and gave a joyful smile. Today she was going to be ready to find that husband her mommy wanted, she knew it.

She quickly grabbed a robe and began singing, putting the robe on as she swayed, then moving her arms around, twirling as she went to the door, and opened it. It was strangely silent, but Lotte shrugged that away. They were off getting her presents! She continued singing, skipping down the steps, two, three at a time, and jumping full force with both feet together when she reached the bottom. The servants weren’t even there. Did that mean everyone went out to get a present for her? A small smile played at her lips as she continued to sing, her voice hitting the rafters and bouncing off the walls to echo in her ear. She pushed open the parlor door, getting ready to crescendo, when her voice died. An odd, fairly handsome man stood there, staring at her. His backswept blond hair and piercing blue eyes stunned her. He gave a small smile, and bowed.

“Such a beautiful voice shouldn’t be closeted within the confounds of this establishment, my dear lady,” he declared with a smooth voice, and gave a rakish grin as he winked at her.

Lotte jaw dropped, and she stared at him. “Huh?”

The man stared at her, and nodded. “I said that such a beautiful voice such as yours shouldn’t closeted within the conf….” Lotte waved her hands, interrupting him.

“Why is my voice in a closet?”

This time, it was the man’s turn to have his jaw drop. “Well, it isn’t. I was saying it is closeted within the…”

Lotte waved her hands again. “Stop! My voice is in my throat, not a closet!”

The man moved his hand up, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefingers, before rubbing them. “My lady, I mean it should not be kept away from other people.”

Lotte nodded slowly. “And keep it out of a closet?”

“Forget the closet! What if I told you I can make you have the best voice in the whole world, better than anyone else’s?”

Lotte stared at him, and her thoughts began to race. How was her voice in a closet. Is there a better voice that had not been n a closet? Did the closet really hold voices, and if so, did they go next to the shoes? The man stared at her as if reading her thoughts, thus an expression of total exasperation was crossing his face.

“My dear, trust me. Listen to my voice and we shall speak.” The man began to sing, his voice quiet at first, drawing one in as they listened intently, before gradually becoming louder, seducing the ears with it’s greatness. Lotte stood, transfixed.

“Your voice must have never been in a closet!”

The man stared at her, then gave a curse, before grabbing her, pulling her body up close, facing her away from him as she held her arms in a tight grip.

“Lotte Ravensley, I have watched you for some time, and you will submit to me. Your voice will be mine and you will only sing for me. You will be mine!” He threw her to the ground, watching her slide. She hit her head against the wall her face towards the chair in front of her. There, before her eyes, was a face, the eyes wide and soulless, the mouth slack, and paling slowly. Her mommy was dead! Her stomach felt like lead as her mind tried to comprehend this. She turned her head to face the man and screamed, searching desperately for something to fight him with. He gave a cruel grin, distorting his face. “Yes, I killed her. Your father is in the study. I felt that it was best to get to them while their guard was down. You’ll find none are alive within the house now, only you.” The man lunged again, and pinned Lotte’s hands to the floor, his body covering her. He gave a small smirk as he lowered his mouth. “Mine, Forever,” he breathed, as Lotte closed her eyes, preparing for what was to come.

Lotte Ravensley · Adventurer Joined: 24 Jul 2006 Posts: 24

Lotte hugged her legs to herself, rocking as she stared blankly at the closet door. She absently hummed a peaceful melody, trying to calm herself as the voice of her attacker hypnotically echoed in her head. You can never leave, you are mine… forever. Lotte could feel the wetness creeping down her cheeks, as she remembered the pain and terror he had inflicted over the past week. She covered her ears, trying to stop the sounds screaming through her head. Nothing was able to get through; everything in her head was jumbled as if there was a cloud permeating through her mind. Little songbird, I’m coming. Lotte froze in terror, her hum dying in a choked scream. I have a birthday present for you. Lotte stayed still, unwilling to move in fear of being discovered.

She heard the front door open and close and began to whimper. The door opened and she looked up in horror. He stood above her, a cruel smile upon his face as he reached down, grabbing her roughly by the arm and yanked her up, pulling her to him. “Now, what did I say about closeting up your voice?” he asked, a deep chuckle resonating throughout the room as he moved his lips down to her neck, nibbling. She began to whimper, tears falling freely down her face. He lifted his head, and held hers, staring into her eyes before moving his lips to her face, licking her tears. She began to shake when the front door burst open, slamming into the wall. Lotte screamed in terror, pulling herself from the man’s arm. She turned, and ran into the closet, closing the door. She sat back down, staring again at the closet door. She heard a crash and the sounds of a fight, the yelling coming through the gap of the door.

Suddenly the door was wrenched, open, a blonde woman with a sword in her hand stood before her. She stared down at Lotte and reached down with her free hand, grabbed Lotte’s wrist, yanking her up and throwing her across the room. Lotte flew forward, her head hitting the table, stopping her flight. She sat up, rubbing her head as she turned, seeing two other women, a mage with a book in her hand and another blonde, holding an ax. Lotte got her knees and crawled behind the leg of the table, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“Brandy,” the ax lady said, gesturing the woman with a sword. “Grab the woman and bring her here.” He gestured to the man, who lay unconscious on the floor. Lotte wrapped her limbs around the leg, holding on for dear life. Brandy came over, kneeling and grabbed her wrist again, yanking her. Lotte remained unmoved, her head trying to bury itself in the leg, her eyes closed. Brandy gave a sigh and took out her sword, swinging it just above Lotte’s head, then with lightening reflexes, grabbed the table, throwing it to the side. Lotte looked up, her eyes wide and Brandy grabbed a hold of the leg above her head and began to drag her across the room. She dropped the leg, with Lotte still connected to it, next to the unconscious man, and gave a smirk.

The ax woman looked at the woman with the book and nodded. Suddenly, Lotte began to feel a pain burst in her head, the scenes of the past week playing through her mind again, taunting her as she re-lived the pain all over again.

“Linda, we are to late,” the book lady said and the pain finally stop. She looked at the three women, and jumped up, and ran into the closet, closing the door. She fell against the wall, sobbing, wrapping her arms around her legs, rocking herself, her eyes never leaving the door.