At 198, Williamson Manor (EmbracingAnime & KamekazePrince) [18+,incest,abuse]

[KamekazePrince]

"An injury to the self forges some bonds. 


The betrayal becomes part of the fabric 


of our relationships and further disrupts


the natural unfolding of the self.


An emptiness forms at the core of the person


and the self becomes inconsolable."


---

Daily Telegraph

 

At 198, Williamson Manor

-Edward Norrington

1300 hours, 29.5.2015

Grittleton, Britain

 

The abandoned building towers over the cluster of pine. An overgrowth of moss embraces its discolored walls. It is a massive structure of limestone and cobble. The first two floors are completely shrouded by the foliage. A few branches of spruce have clawed their way into the third floor windows. The building rises for two storeys above that, overlooking a sprawling estate of woods that stretches for miles.

 

Although this magnificent estate is barely a minute’s walk from Grittleton, the country folk boast none of their intimacy to Williamson Manor. It was originally built by the aristocratic couple Reid and Martha Williamson in 1817 following the birth of their only son, Jonah, who later gained recognition as the prodigious pianist Jonah Williamson. Everything seemed wine and roses, until twenty years later, the master and mistress of the house went missing and their son was found lying dead in the kitchen, evidently poisoned.

 

A picture of Jonah taken at his public recital

a few months before the unfortunate incident

 

While at first, it caused great ruckus in the conservative countryside, eventually, it gained popularity throughout Britain as one of the most haunted locations in the country. Some people claim that they heard the piano play, some say they heard footsteps and some saw apparitions of the young boy. Some still believe that the bodies of the couple are hidden within the walls and the troubled souls of the three trapped there forever.

 

It was a hotspot for ghost busters and paranormal investigators until the late 1900s, when it was deemed unsafe by architects. Despite their concerns, the two-hundred year old building currently stands still and sturdy. The air around the building has grown stale and musty. A dense network of cobwebs has settled on the windows, keeping the interiors hidden out of sight.

 

The building has finally been left alone to wallow in its secrets, never to be disturbed.

 

[KamekazePrince]

Stanley Spencer rocked back and forth on his armchair. He casually lit a match and put it to his cigar, glancing through the window. The Williamson manor stood placidly under the heavy downpour, its dim silhouette cast against the stormy afternoon skies. He sighed deeply. He was beginning to feel almost as old as the building, although he was only seventy-two.

 

The old man was the only one who visited the place. Not happily though. As the neighbourhood watchman, he needed to make sure nosy brats didn’t get up there. Not that he believed in old wives' barmy tales. The building was creaking and groaning like his knees. It was too dangerous to go in there. But that wasn't the only reason he detested it.

 

He grimaced everytime he had to inspect the place. He would routinely walk around the perimeter, eyeing the windows carefully. Then he would gingerly step inside, one foot at a time, casting his flashlight hurriedly over the place. After a few minutes of inspection he would leave hastily. Ghosts or not, that place made his tummy turn. Every crackle his body made, the house echoed back dimly, as though telling him to pipe down. It felt like stumbling upon a couple having it off at your bedroom. He would just hurry away from that place, ears shut, eyes shut, not turning back.

 

But today, he only eyed the building dolefully. “It’d be much easier to just bite the dust ey?” he mumbled, puffing out a whiff of smoke discontentedly. He had been here for seven decades and in all these years, both the building and his body persisted defiantly. They were on the verge of collapse, but still alive. “I don’t know about you, but I am ready to kick the bucket,” he whispered. The building stood quietly in response, their silence to only be interrupted by the thunderstorm.

[EmbracingAnime]

Name:

 

Christopher Clemens

(Clemens - "merciful"; "gentle")

 

Age:

 

22 year old male

 

Appearance:

 

Tall stature. Slender build. Light, fawn complexion. Straight, russet brown hair with long bangs. Golden brown eyes. Usual attire consists of white, dress shirt; buttoned, taupe vest with gold trims; taupe pants; brown blazer; and dark brown loafers. Blue, ornamental brooch fastened with ribbon beneath collar. Recognition pin fastened to vest. Sometimes ties hair back into a short ponytail, with white ribbon.

 

Personality:

 

Compassionate. Selfless. Gentle. Pacifist/Nonviolent. Idealist.

 

History:

 

His sixth sense recognized at a very young age, Christopher Clemens was groomed to be a clairvoyant. He had little to say in the matter and was forced to meet everyone's expectations. As a result, he became ostracized by his peers and rejected his fate, in the beginning.

 

As Christopher's senses honed over time, his talents garnered recognition and approval, from criminal investigators and paranormal researchers alike. Soon, his paranormal aid was sought after by many. He was taken to various sites and scenes, to shed new light on overlooked information. Several, cold cases were successfully closed, thanks to his critical contributions. The widespread approbation earned him a prestigious pin of recognition from the elite community.

 

Now, Christopher accepts his destiny. For him, helping the forgotten rest in peace is satisfying enough. He occasionally works alongside detectives and law enforcement, when cases are in danger of going cold. From time to time, he also gets drawn into dangerous predicaments and odd jobs. However, his selflessness is often abused by others. Not everyone acknowledges his achievements nor the validity of his abilities.

 

Sometimes blinded by idealism, Christopher isn't always aware of his own, harsh realities. Always prioritizing others causes him to neglect his own well-being. Though he wishes to move out, he still lives with his parents at home. He mistakes their manipulative intentions for dependency. Unable to detach himself from spirits' tragic stories and those he couldn't save, Christopher also carries a lot of emotional baggage that burdens him as nightmares.

 

A loyal foxhound—Hunter—never leaves his side.

 

[EmbracingAnime]

Warm sunlight filtered through breaks in the thick canopy of beech trees. Like wooden serpents, their ancient roots snaked through the forest floor. Moist patches of moss carpeted their flaking wood. From the leaf littered ground, a trail of tiny ants marched up the length of a towering beech. Its trunk parted into several, bulky branches. Their green leaves rustled, in the gentle breeze.

 

A snoozing man leaned against the tall tree. Russet brown bangs fell over his closed eyes. Patches of descending sunlight sheened his glossy locks. His face was soft, with a peaceful expression. Though he sometimes mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, his furrowed eyebrows would relax again. Anyone watching would be compelled to hold their breath, not wanting to disturb the haven of serenity.

 

The man shifted. Something padding through the long, dewy grass hampered his rest. He tried drifting off again, but his conscious was fully roused. His eyes fluttered open. He squinted, adjusting to the sudden shift in light. Though he was momentarily blinded, a wet lick on his hand instantly revealed what presence accompanied him.

 

"Hunter," he started, gazing down at a kneeling foxhound. "Is it time already?" He scratched behind its floppy ears. No longer wandering the streets as a stray, Hunter's new purpose was following scents and keeping his master focused. That included not allowing his master to indulge in long, afternoon naps.

 

"Christopher, it's tea time," a voice called out. The man lifted his head, at the echoing sound of his name. Standing to his feet, he brushed the seat of his pants. "Guess we better head back," he sighed. His dog barked, in agreement.

 

Following a winding, dirt path, the two eventually emerged from the dense forest. A woman descended down the the hilly meadow to greet them. Her rushed strides and crossed arms made Christopher cringe. She looked vexed. He braced himself for an onslaught of scoldings, as she approached. "Christopher, you know how much your father and I want you home for tea time and dinner." Christopher blinked in disbelief. Despite her disappointment, there was warm concern in her tone. He silently thanked whatever subdued her overbearing temper.

 

"You were gone so long that I was beginning to worry." She tucked a lock of silver hair behind her ear. Her dress billowed in the cool, spring wind. "Please, mother, I'm not a child. I can do as I please. Besides, you never complain, when I'm out late on a case." She sighed in defeat. "Fine. Just know that your father and I get lonely, when you're away long." Her innocent candor filled her son's heart with guilt. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time," he obliged. Hunter's ears perked, at his master's dejection. He licked his hand. The small consolation was enough to make Christopher smile.

 

His mother's eyes narrowed, briefly. Christopher's averted gaze failed to catch the glaring daggers being thrown at his dog. It was as though she wanted him to sulk in guilt longer. "Christopher," she said rather harshly, attempting to snatch back her son's attention. Christopher looked up, with concern. She cleared her throat, realizing her true intentions were resurfacing. She corrected her tone with something more motherly.

 

"Another letter came in for you." "Really?!" Christopher's eyes lit up with delight. "Yes. Now, shall we return home? You can read it over tea." Any suspicion regarding her desperate urgency was overshadowed by her endearing smile. He wondered why his parents were always enthusiastic over requests for his assistance. Their acceptance and support was satisfying enough. "Okay," he answered, taking his mother's extended hand. Large clouds passed overhead, as the three climbed up the flowering hill.

 

(OOC: Please excuse my lengthiness. I like being descriptive, when introducing new settings/scenes. Please let me now, if it's too much of a mouthful. I will cut back, if you wish. Thank you. U v U)

[KamekazePrince]

Stanley sat pensively, recollecting his encounter with the middle-aged man today. He was a reporter or something. Normally he didn’t entertain those kind of fellows into the grounds. They asked too many questions and stuck their conks out too much. But today, he felt like he could oblige. The man thanked him profusely for it. He even payed him.

 

Stanley glanced through the window again. “Funny ey, the kind of interest they take in a run-down hut like you..”

 

He paused. He pressed his nose against the dripping window. Small dots lined the gates of Williamson Manor. His vision was clouded by his misty breath condensing on the panes. He furiously wiped it with his tubby fist. A few heads bobbed outside the Williamson Manor gates.

Stanley rubbed his eyes.

People.

What were those blokes doing down there in a weather like this?

 

....

 

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away in London, a chap by the name Edward Norrington was kicking himself. A massive heap of papers straddled him. Letters from people all over UK. No doubt his latest article on the Williamson Manor was a big hit. His article had spurred a new wave of enthusiasm amongst ghostbusters and paranormal investigators alike. All of a sudden the editorial department was flooded with their mails. Edward plonked his head on the table and let out an audible groan.

 

They were vying for exclusive rights to resume investigation of the case. Apparently the men marched right up to the mansion, but they were kicked out of the grounds. Ah! Mr. Stanley ...! A smile broke through the man's face, "At least one of us is doing our job properly." He mindlessly flicked through letter after letter, each requesting that he intervene and authorise a permit.

 

"Alright! Theres no denying the inevitable." He quickly sat straight and rubbed his palms. Whom can I approach?

 

He had to pick a single investigator. One investigator, capable of doing justice to the case. He ran his mind through every single person he had interviewed. Whom could he ask? Whom could he pass over the case to and be done with forever?

 

 

[OOC: The more fruity the description is, the better! I love it as it is =) Don't hold back.]

[KamekazePrince]

---

FROM: Edward Norrington

TO: Christopher Clemens

SUBJECT: Requesting paranormal investigation at 198, Williamson Manor, Grittleton

 

Dear Mr. Christopher Clemens,

 

I am Edward Norrington, chief editor of the Daily Telegraph. I do hope you remember me, I had interviewed you last summer. Attached is the report of my recent visit to Williamson Manor, Grittleton, claimed to be one of the most haunted locations in Britain.

 

I do have a request to make of you, Mr. Christopher. To take up the case.

 

This case is currently in the spotlight, thanks to yours truly. Several investigating groups are vying for the permit to inspect the mansion. I write to you in high hopes, knowing very well your unparalleled psychic and investigating abilities. I see no person more fit than you, Mr. Christopher, to handle the case satisfactorily. I would be greatly indebted to you if you could do me this favour.

 

I am sorry for requesting so much of your time. Please let me know by mail or fax your response. I will immediately make the necessary arrangements for your travel and accommodation at a hotel in Grittleton.

 

I await your kind reply.

Thank you.

Best regards,

Edward Norrington,

Editor Daily Telegraph,

London, UK

---

 

[OOC:

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

If it is tedious, we can pretend YC already responded to MC's mail and he is on his way or something...Is this okay? O ~ O ]