“i hear you’re a writer,” clear, soft voice cuts through the silence. ( not that this house is ever really silent. ) she won’t be thomas’ first spirit. so many of the inhabitants of this cursed place love to cause trouble. her expression is unreadable and obscured by stunning, wavy red locks as she sits before him at the counter in the kitchen, a saucer and a cup of coffee before her. she looks up at him finally, her dark eyes soft, empathetic, curious.  “are you any good?”

‘ 𝙸'𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳 myself to give up on the past, ’

curious hands can’t stop their snooping. lila picks up the crumbled ball and smooths it out; “i’d say i’m not the only one that needs to mix things up,” she murmurs, before letting the paper drift to the carpet — “i don’t kill just for the thrill,” lila can’t help herself: she chuckles under her breath, “it’s for a purpose.”

               DELIA AND HER FATHER HAD LEFT THE HOTEL. It was what her father had decided to book without actually thinking about just how much her stepmother would hate it. She pouted about leaving but her father hadn’t budged, insisting that they just remain here until the house was ready to be moved into. If Delia couldn’t relocate to the Hilton, then she was going to make sure she spent as little time here as she could, which meant dragging her husband out the entire day, only coming back to sleep. That meant Lydia was left to her own devices, meaning she got to explore the HOTEL CORTEZ all she wanted. 

               It felt so empty here that she felt like she wouldn’t even bump into anyone. So when she did, she was caught off guard. So was he probably, because she had just been snapping a picture and the flash had gone off...more or less right in his face.  ❝ Sorry about that, ❞  she commented, moving down to scoop up the photo that had dropped to the floor by her feet. She picked it up and straightened her spine before meeting eyes with the man.  ❝ Here I was thinking I wouldn’t see another guest my entire stay. ❞

pomona settles against the doorframe leading into her suite a soft, almost sadistic-looking smile on rosy lips. “have you finally come to interview me?” she asks, her tone is clear and cutting, her manner impressively commanding even in such a casual position. she stands up straight and steps aside. “come in.” she shuts the door after him and crosses to her drink cart. “can i get you something to drink, mr. brooks?” 

beforehistime​:   ❛ There’s a trick to it. Of course. ❜

“thanks,” she drawls — so sickly sweet it’ll rot your teeth out. lila even throws in an over the top flutter of her eyes ... that’s what the boys like, right? funny how she’s been attracted to men her entire life, yet they are a mystery. one she has no interest in fully cracking; “this stupid door gets jammed all the time. i swear, too many bodies going down here,” a fake laugh, a toss of her hair with her blood coated hand.