Rosenblum Hall (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rosenblumhall2025-04-06 10:55 am
facultwist) wrote in rosenblumhall2025-04-06 10:55 am
Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change...
[ The wind and snow only pick up once you all find yourselves alone.
There is a terrible chill in the air of Rosenblum Hall when you enter. The halls shudder and creak with the twitches and gasps of new life, the slow expansion and contraction of the iron and copper pipes beating slowly like a heart and lungs unfreezing.
It was a rushed and chaotic process, getting you all from the main dorms to here. Something about the more modern heating and stormproofing. Hard to believe this place might be better suited to shield you from the wind and chill, but if there is one thing Rosenblum Hall knows to do, it is to persist. The walls hold strong against the battering gales, the windows firm against the ice.
You will not be able to forget that there is a storm outside, but it seems that while you are here you will be spared the pain of the storm.
If you listen closely, you can hear whatever pole or satellite falls when the internet and cell service cut out.
You are left with the whole - well, most - of Rosenblum Hall to yourselves for the time being. Your bags of whatever you could grab in time for the move are lined up near the stairs, ready to be taken with you while you all sort out who takes which room.
The air is thick, and smells of the burnt dust of a furnace just having been turned on. But the longer you stay, the warmer it will become. And curiously, the whole of the building seems immaculate and dust-free.
While decorations for the season are sparse, in the back corner of the entry hall stands a Christmas tree, though the holidays likely seem far from ideal to spend here. The presents below it are all fake: empty boxes wrapped in pleasant paper, filled with newspaper for weight.
There is no life in these halls. No bugs, no rats, no mice. Pinned to each door of the bedrooms, though, and somewhere in each room, is a simple note typewritten across official Burnbriar letterhead. ]
Dear students,
Please make yourselves at home as best you are able. I fear the break ahead, at least until this blizzard ends, might be terribly boring, but I trust you will make the best of it.
I have prepared an exercise that should take up some of your time, though it will require the attendance of your new Guidance Counselor. She should be along in a couple hours, so… please meet in the Lounge in two hours for an Orientation to the Hall.
Failure to attend will be met with an inability to ask follow-up questions that may aid you in the activity. Participation in the activity is mandatory.
Sincerely,
The Interim Headmistress
[ Interim Headmistress? Huh. Better see what that’s about when the time comes. ]
[ ooc: Welcome to the first log of Rosenblum Hall! Feel free to have your character interact with the setting however much you like (except for investigations, please save any investigating the building for Secrets for the weekly log). The Interim Headmistress and Guidance Counselor will make their appearance around 4pm EST, and you'll icly receive murdergame rules and profiles then! ]
There is a terrible chill in the air of Rosenblum Hall when you enter. The halls shudder and creak with the twitches and gasps of new life, the slow expansion and contraction of the iron and copper pipes beating slowly like a heart and lungs unfreezing.
It was a rushed and chaotic process, getting you all from the main dorms to here. Something about the more modern heating and stormproofing. Hard to believe this place might be better suited to shield you from the wind and chill, but if there is one thing Rosenblum Hall knows to do, it is to persist. The walls hold strong against the battering gales, the windows firm against the ice.
You will not be able to forget that there is a storm outside, but it seems that while you are here you will be spared the pain of the storm.
If you listen closely, you can hear whatever pole or satellite falls when the internet and cell service cut out.
You are left with the whole - well, most - of Rosenblum Hall to yourselves for the time being. Your bags of whatever you could grab in time for the move are lined up near the stairs, ready to be taken with you while you all sort out who takes which room.
The air is thick, and smells of the burnt dust of a furnace just having been turned on. But the longer you stay, the warmer it will become. And curiously, the whole of the building seems immaculate and dust-free.
While decorations for the season are sparse, in the back corner of the entry hall stands a Christmas tree, though the holidays likely seem far from ideal to spend here. The presents below it are all fake: empty boxes wrapped in pleasant paper, filled with newspaper for weight.
There is no life in these halls. No bugs, no rats, no mice. Pinned to each door of the bedrooms, though, and somewhere in each room, is a simple note typewritten across official Burnbriar letterhead. ]
Dear students,
Please make yourselves at home as best you are able. I fear the break ahead, at least until this blizzard ends, might be terribly boring, but I trust you will make the best of it.
I have prepared an exercise that should take up some of your time, though it will require the attendance of your new Guidance Counselor. She should be along in a couple hours, so… please meet in the Lounge in two hours for an Orientation to the Hall.
Failure to attend will be met with an inability to ask follow-up questions that may aid you in the activity. Participation in the activity is mandatory.
Sincerely,
The Interim Headmistress
[ Interim Headmistress? Huh. Better see what that’s about when the time comes. ]
[ ooc: Welcome to the first log of Rosenblum Hall! Feel free to have your character interact with the setting however much you like (except for investigations, please save any investigating the building for Secrets for the weekly log). The Interim Headmistress and Guidance Counselor will make their appearance around 4pm EST, and you'll icly receive murdergame rules and profiles then! ]
conservatory
We're going to be here a while.
no subject
Seems that way. [ she sighs, expression similarly vague as she keeps her eyes on the storm. ]
No rush to get home?
[ she knows the matthews family is... comfortable. on a material level, it doesn't seem like lottie wants for anything; that much has been pretty obvious. but she doesn't think that she's heard lottie bring up her parents once in the time she's known her. ]
no subject
Nah. [ She's trying her best to keep it casual. Her response comes out more clipped than anything, though. ] Seems like you aren't, either.
no subject
Don't they say 'you can't go home again'? [ the phrasing's flippant, but the words are flat, humorless. ]
no subject
Yeah. They sure do. You have a song about that?
[ Doloris has a song about everything, it seems like. Lottie's always found that pretty cool. ]
no subject
Depends. Is your Japanese better than your French?
no subject
Worse, if you can believe it. Or maybe about the same, since I don't think those classes are doing me any good.
no subject
[ one of the few upsides of being in this place for the past year has been picking up phrases like that. she gives a small smile, one that almost looks genuine. ]
I guess I don't, then. Sorry.
no subject
She doesn't like the feeling of that song slipping out of her grasp, though. ]
I don't need to know what the words mean. The music will tell me.
no subject
doloris stands up, stretches, and plugs the amp she'd brought into her guitar, turning it up only high enough to be... comfortably listenable, though probably audible from the nearby hall and certainly throughout the conservatory, not aiming to bother half of the house or more. she switches it on, before sitting back down, glancing to lottie. ]
Okay. Mas?uerade Rhapsody Re?uest. [ yes, those question marks are said as q's. as she taps the distortion and plays an introductory few notes, she pauses, and a cold sentence comes out of her mouth almost on instinct. ] ... welcome. To the world of Ave Mujica.
[ she resumes playing, and simultaneously the words start to flow, lush, shadowy, and tinged with a twisted joy born of despair; her guitar's sound underpins it with something aggressive, dark, and inviting. she's having to pick up some of the slack left by the absence of other instruments, carrying it as a solo instrumental underneath, and if anything... it only sounds more desolate as a result. ]