londoncallingrpg | General Halloween GP

Halloween was as spooky or dull as you needed it to be in London. From handing out treats to those who came knocking, to attending costume parties and concerts all over the city, there was something for everyone tonight.

Plenty of bars and clubs were offering discounts to anyone bold enough to turn up in costume, and even the underground was bursting with holiday cheer as costumed commuters came and went, breaking up the dull day to day routine one usually faced while making your way from point a to point b.

Even those who chose to skip the costume were indulging in treats or maybe a creepy film or two.

There was no excuse to be bored. Not tonight. Not on Halloween.

(General Halloween GP for those who aren't keen on the haunted house! Feel free to post your pup anywhere in the city, from fancy dress parties to street corners. Go wild (or, you know, stay tame. Your call) Also, because there are two GPs going up this week, both are open to new top levels for two whole weeks! And, of course, you can keep tagging long after that if you want. :D I'll post reminders daily on slack.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oliver might have missed her, if it wasn't for the sudden motion that caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He was on his way before he'd made it a conscious decision, and he wove his way through the crowd without daring to blink, for fear of losing sight of her.

A raised eyebrow and a few biting words had the man slinking off for another drink or a more biddable woman, but not in time for Milady to lose herself in the crowd. Or perhaps that was just what she told herself, with Oliver so very close to finding her, in a place far too public for blades or blood.

Oliver managed to reach her in time, against all hope. And now, what was he to do? She was in every way he could see despite the mask the spitting image of one he had long since lost. One whose loss lay so heavy upon him. He stood in front of her, and for a second, just looked.

"A dance, madam?" he requested, still unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling him. That was the only thing to offer, in a place like this, when he thought he might be losing his mind. He set his glass down, and held his hand out to her.

When she spoke, he would know. If they danced, he would know.

Beyond the shadow of a doubt.

It was only years experience letting people see only what she wanted them to see which kept Milady's expression neutral, when inside was a maelstrom. She tipped her head and set her hand on his. "A dance."

At the sound of her voice, Oliver's hand slid to close his fingers around her wrist, his grip much too tight, as he stepped closer to her. Her voice. It was her voice. "Come to haunt me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, all pretense forgotten.

The body had been gone, by the time he had come back. But the wound had been fatal, he had been so sure of that.

It had been said, usually by people who were later found dead, that Milady had no heart. Not true. It was merely buried deep, beneath a cold and bitter rage and the need for vengeance. "Halloween is a night for hauntings," she said calmly. "You're hurting me. I could scream."

"You're not," Oliver answered, and tightened his grip, finding himself unable to look away from her eyes. They were her eyes. She wasn't denying what she was. Her voice was that of Anne's, even if her tone wasn't. "Can ghosts hurt?"

"Can uxoricides?" Milady countered, no more willing than he to look away. "Can they be haunted by what they've done? Can you?"

"Not a single breath has felt right since that day," Oliver replied through gritted teeth. He felt drunk, for all that he had barely had anything to drink. Was this what madness felt like?

Why did that cut so deep? Milady wanted him to hurt. Needed him broken by the guilt of what he'd done. His admission should have felt right and powerful, and it did, to a degree, but it stabbed at something in her too.

Ridiculous. She couldn't give in to such things. Milady straightened her spine, reached up to pull his hand from her wrist, and made her voice as cold and hard as her heart. "Think how you will carry the memories of tonight."

"How are you here?" he demanded to know, refusing to let go of her wrist and willing his voice to be as hard, and miserably failing. He sounded angry, but underneath that hurt, tortured. Everything he was.

"I am never far from you," she said, thrilling - thrilling, not any of those other things she did not, could not feel - at the hurt in his tone. "How could I be, after what you've done?"

"But you are never here," Oliver retorted, his voice breaking on the last word.

"And whose fault is that?" she asked, seizing on the hint of weakness, pressing her advantage.

"I have gone mad," Oliver acknowledged flatly, after a beat. His voice sounded strained, from the lump in his throat. Madness was the only explanation, and it had only been a matter of time, of course.

He let go of her and abruptly turned to head out of the reception. Fresh air, to clear his mind. He might have been drugged? He certainly felt like it. Fresh air would help.

The grip on Milady's cold, dark heart released along with the one Oliver had had on her wrist, and she watched him stalk out of the room.

She needed a drink, something with a bite. And possibly some pretty thing she could leave begging to lick her... boots. Something. Anything, to soothe the sharp edges and heat the chill within her.

General Halloween GP

Re: OTA

Re: OTA

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