Scene 2: Cursed blood

"Of course he did. Lecherous old bastard. Guess I didn't fall far from the tree." Alexander mumbles, settling back in his seat. His fingers clasped in front of himself as he eyed the old man. "So what is the plan then grandfather? Shall we explain the strangeness we've seen or am I on my own once again?"

"Mr Rookwood! You old fox! Courting women in the cemetary eh? Cant say I care for the chosen locale, but who am I too argue with quantified results?"

"What? You... are mistaken. The wenches did try to get close to me, but I pushed them away, and told them to never come back." he says, not sounding as firm as he wished.

"The plan? There is no plan. I can tell you that the servants don't seem to know anything about the letters we all seem to have received. And they do not come from me. Someone else wanted us gathered."

He turns to look at Claire, "I initially thought this might be because the youngest among you is now reaching an age where discussing eligible suitors to her hand, worthy of the name of the Rookwoods, might be in order."

"But perhaps I am mistaken."

"Gunther is losing his coherence. He spoke about you and Grandmother as if you were still children when we accosted him at the inn. We thought that perhaps this was some ploy of yours, though to what end, neither Nathaniel nor I could fathom what." Alexander said, stretching out comfortably in his chair. His facade of indifference was betrayed by the pacing shadows that moved out of sync with the candle's flickering.

"An invitation after a family member's death? Strange way to start the usual courting rituals, I must say." Alex say with a mirthless laugh, shaking his head slightly. "No. No, I don't believe that any of us are the reason we are here. Like you said, someone brought us all here." The thought was unnerving; what did someone have to gain by gathering this specific group of Rookwoods together? Grandfather had the liberty of keeping an eye on the estate but the rest of them had done only a little to have a name for themselves. Claire was just barely old enough to be considered her own person by "proper" society's count.

"Let us focus first then on what brought us here first then; the news of Grandmother's passing. Grandfather, you knew her best of all us. What can you tell us about her?"

Nathaniel perks up at the chance to learn more of grandmother, and why they are all actually here.

Roderick takes a deep breath, a faint pained expression rippling through his mask-like countenance.

"You are all wrong in the assumption it is my spouse that we are gathered to mourn." He glances around the room to see their reactions.

The one you call your grandmother, is actually my sister. And her passing is not a recent thing. Far from it. It happened... " he frowns for a moment, "fifty six... no! fifty seven years ago. When she was sixteen."

He rests his left hand heavily on the wooden table, as if he felt the weight of their past.
"Lilith. That was her name. My junior by quite a few years. A lively, curious girl, always exploring the nooks and corners of the woods in our grounds. Curious, inquisitive. Fascinated by nature's mysteries." A smile almost tries to surface on his face, but does not seem to reach his facial muscles.

He continues, "Then she fell ill from a mysterious disease that no man of science could fathom. It changed her. She became a recluse, avoiding to show herself. The family colluded, they secluded her away from the public eye. For the good of the family name, you see..."

"I was maybe 25, when they announced her death. I had not seen her for weeks. I did not see her dead. Just her casket, in a solemn family funeral. No outsiders were invited."



He looks up from a distant place within him. His gaze rests on the Rookwoods gathered around the table.
"So you see... somebody wants us here: not to mourn a recent loss. But to honour a long-lost ancestor... I am in the dark as to why, just like you are."

He focuses on Claire. "When you saw me from the window, I was by her grave. To think, to try understand. The three wenches you saw interrupted me. But I feel there is something we can learn from her resting place. There must be..."

He descends into a brooding silence.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Claire says, her expression gentle as she looks at her grandfather. "I'm really sorry." Then her face turns thoughtful.
"But I don't understand. Why now, fifty-seven years later? And who sent us these invitations?" She's not addressing anyone in particular until she, at this point, turns her eyes to Roderick again. "After these women interrupted you, grandfather, did you still get a chance to look at the grave? Maybe we could all go there and pay her our respects."

"Ah yes, that nasty business. Very unusual of us to have picked a side rather than try to play it out." Alexander said as he inspects his nails for a moment, looking over at his cousin. The man was broad-shouldered, athletic, a true and tried hero. He had discipline, a sharp mentality, and a complete lack of an addiction. He loathed his dutiful cousin.

"There is also rumors of some great beast in the woods. The Knights are here investigating it. Must be something juicy." He added, frowning for just a moment before he looked over at Nathaniel once more. The memory of the hunter who had looked just like him came to his mind. Something was strange here, truly.

"It isn't even all of us. It is just...us. You might have a place in the military but Nathaniel's a doctor, I'm a...gentleman scoundrel. Claire has just barely become a woman in society, and grandfather stays here at the manor. We're practically nobody of actual importance."

He nods in Claire's direction, "Yes, Lilith's grave might reveal something. I haven't had a chance to examine it. Maybe your younger eyes will see more than mine. We should go."

"A trap? A rebellion?" he repeats, looking at Elias. "I don't believe that. If I made enemies during my long life, those are not your enemies."

He listens to Alexander's reasoning, and perks up at the mention of a beast. "the only beast I have seen, if one might call it that, is an unusual black bird around the Manor. Even in the graveyard, it seemed to... observe me."

"Let's not speculate about what the knights might be doing," Claire replies quietly, though her thoughts also wander to the three strange women she saw with Roderick earlier. "We should go and take a look at the grave before it gets even later."

"So, it's decided then? We'll explore the gravesite. Then if time allows, we'll investigate the beast in the woods. Good to be back eh?"

"Yes. The graveyard awaits," he says, standing up heavily from the Library table.

He leads the way out of the room. "It awaits all of us..." he adds

"Right then, let us go." Alexander says, standing up and following his family. His eyes linger on Claire, out of concern and worry. The man's shadow walks beside him against the light, curious to what its host hopes to achieve.

You all stand up and follow Roderick outside. Having no real leads to help you figure out what is going on here, you decide to look for something in the only place that seems to be tied to the person you all agree was mentioned in the letter: Roderick's sister, your grandmother Lilith.

As you leave the Manor, you are instantly greeted by the smell of wet soil. So far, the rain didn't turn into the anticipated storm like last night, dissolving instead into an ever-present humidity. However, but the entire world seems to have been plunged into darkness by the slowly rolling mass of dark clouds, powered by the chilly breeze that you all can feel in your bones.

Claire makes herself as small as she can and wraps herself tight in her coat to ward of the gross, thin rain and the cold accompanying the wetness. She keeps having to take off her glasses and rub them on some piece of clothing that's not yet drenched in rainwater just so she can see. "Maybe we should have just stayed inside," she mutters quietly to herself.

As the group approaches the gravesite, Claire's eyes move over to the spot where she saw her grandfather earlier, talking to those three mysterious women. She tries to see if the rain has left any traces of them, footprints or anything they might have left behind.

The old man leads them to his sister Lilith's grave. It is a funerary monument, with a marble sarcophagus sculpted with ornate motifs.
He inspects the old stone, comparing it to his memory of it, to see if anything seems out of place.

He steadies himself in the bitter wind, and hesitantly puts his right hand on the metal letters:

L I L I T H
R O O K W O O D

Raptus Cito A Iuventute Et Vita
He waits there as if listening, almost expecting some otherwordly voice to communicate with him through the cold metal and stone of that somber resting place.

I am here sister... speak to me...