Jason's smile faltered slightly, becoming increasingly awkward as he held it up, until it finally disappeared. He really had no reason to smile, other than fooling himself. As his eyes moved from Jeanie to Todd, his eyes saddened slightly. Todd obviously wasn't ready to have a mere acquaintance know what happened, and frankly, Jason didn't want to know; simply the beaten and abused look of the boy was story enough. Without speaking, he simply lifted his wrist, exposing the scorched flesh upon his wrist. Anything he could've said at that moment seemed rather mundane and pointless. As Todd brought mention of the Father, he offered a subtle, meaningless smirk. "He has the same burn too."
Jason sighed heavily as Todd spoke of religious retaliation, lighting yet another smoke, careful to keep the smoke from Jeanie. "As much as I'd like to believe holy water and such would work, I'm not certain it will. My deliverance prayer was completely ignored, it seemed to amuse it more than anything." As Todd abruptly removed himself from the car and sat on the curb, Jason felt the sincere urge to comfort the boy, but definitely felt out of place doing so. With a tilt of his head, Jason motioned to Jeanie that she could go speak to him. It was nice to talk to her, but Todd obviously needed her right now.
Jason steps a slight distance from Jeanie's truck, 'till he's certain Father Santos can probably see him in the rear view of his truck. He motions for the man to head over, whether he were to walk or drive. Though he'd never seen the Father drive before, quite honestly, Jason would likely crash his truck before day's end anyway. Despite his overly happy, friendly exterior, those years of withheld anger bubble inside, waiting to come out. Today was human kind's last day... Would he really keep himself pent up until the end of days? Not likely.
Jeanie was already fumbling at the buckle on her seat belt when Jason motioned her over to Todd. She’d been a fool, mentioning his awful morning when he’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it. She felt terrible and flew to him, her beat-up white keds kicking up the dust from the side of the road.
“Oh Todd! I am so sorry! You must think I am stupid and mean for mentioning it when you told me not too.”
She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into her softness and peppering his head, cheek and ear with kisses before laying her head down on his shoulder. She was careful not to squeeze tight on his wounded chest and add physical injury to emotional injury. This was the sort of thing she always did, this heedless opening of her mouth and spilling of secrets. She’d just wanted to talk to Jason, to tell him something he didn’t know, to be helpful and offer insight and thus make him happy but in that action she had made Todd unhappy. She mentally kicked herself, waiting for Todd to shrug off her arms and look at her like she deserved to be looked at.
She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him in her arms as if it might be the last time she felt it because he was going to push her away, she just knew it and if the world was going to end she didn’t want to be alone.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I just spoke will you forgive me? You’ll have my help no matter what but I just want you to know how sorry I am.”
She felt him crying and felt twice as bad for her careless words. Her mind scrambled looking for something to say to make him feel better but she came up with nothing so she continued to hold him and rub his back and hope that it was enough.
Silence, that all she wanted but her fucking head refused. The detail she took in, the single thing that bugged her and made only the vaguest sense to her, didn’t want to be ignored. The creature, the woman’s face pleaded for help yet her eyes stared off into the distance. Rach recognized that look all too well. It was same look she gave her brother every time her “issues” haunted her, nipped at her insides and aggression threatened to overwhelm her personality, leaving her weaker than before. Adrian would take the rage both verbal and physical (she always felt guilty afterwards but he laugh at it), hush calming words in her head, remind her she was in control. Now he was gone. What was happening to her life?
Racheli was a loner, it was always best for her but in that picture, they all looked like friends. Like they would be alright and come though this. Her problems just kept getting bigger and increased with the passing time. Hands relaxed on the grips, mind chaotic and drifted, movements resumed to be automatic as she drove on the road. They had seen her rage, those moments it turned to them eager to lash out like a blood thirsty animal. Racheli didn’t like, not a single bit. Always worse when she stressed and confused, but she couldn’t hurt someone-she wouldn’t let that happen. Never.
Racheli lost track of time, the drive had settled her wandering mind into a bizarre ease almost as soothing as her numbed hand. Her hand was stiff, slightly bruised on one side from her outburst. First her fucking head and now her hand, one of them her own fault while the other wasn’t. Her face was completely void of any conflicting emotion beneath. Rach just wanted her brother.
The woman barely noticed her direction, lost inside herself, before the junker began rumbling and popping fit once more. That divine self righteous Fucker! Racheli sneered as the car’s death rattles became louder before it died for the last time, never to come to life again. She slammed the car door with an echo and her blue-green eye catch the charred site of the diner, their mass would be grave, before turning away. The sketch book was forgotten in the front seat for now. She didn’t want to be here, be face to face with a memory of her losing it-not now.
It seemed everyone was there but one, there was no hid or hair of the woman with the notebook. The place was taped off like every crime show anyone had seen but the police weren’t there. Rach reached into the open window, clicked the key loose before sending the jingling item into her other pocket finally turning to walk. The car wasn’t going anywhere, the only valued things would be pointless to steal were her art and they were far too creepy to sell in this town. For one time in her life she had stayed silent with no quick snobs or comments that burned. She felt more broken than ever but it was her problem, not anyone else’s.
“The Diner’s over there feel free to do what you want,” It was hard to conceal the displeasure,” I am heading that way…” her head bobbed to the side walk away from the Diner.
She began walking, if anyone stopped her than she would stop. Her hips and shoulders in alternate position with a pissed look and glaring eyes. Other than that she would continue to walk seeking out Adrian in a town she knew nothing about saved for the little time she ever spent there.
Last edited by Fallenreaper; 12-20-2011 at 11:13 AM.
Adrian was nestled in the Succubus’ lap, holding onto her as a child might after a night terror. Though his eyes were contented and his mind was clearer than it had been in weeks. Everything made sense now. He belonged to her, and so long as he pleased her, he would know the greatest joys and comforts imaginable. It was all so simple.
“There now, my Pet.” She cooed softly as she ran her fingers gently through his dark hair. “Feeling better?”
Adrian nodded and raised his head, looking at her. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you for your nourishment.”
He looked at her then, his eyes slowly falling to her full black lips, as if inviting him to touch them. To taste them. Quickly he looked back into her ethereal eyes, pale and blue. “I… forgive me, but may I kiss you Mistress?”
The Succubus nodded. “You may, my pet.”
Adrian licked his lips, as he sat up, the desire as apparent as his need. He gently touched her lips with his own, and what started as a simple chaste kiss grew with intensity. She was so sweet like black licorice and the finest wine, and she returned the kiss with as much passion and need. Then, paradise ended and she pulled away from him, her hand gently caressing his cheek. “And now, my pet, you must do as you are bidden. Do not fail me.”
Gently, the Succubus kissed her pet on his brow, and disappeared.
It was heartbreaking to see her leave. She was a beautiful, kind individual. If he could he would give her the world; anything for a smile, or praise. Just thinking of her pleasure made him smile. Still, for her to be truly pleased meant he needed to get to work on his task.
Quickly he stepped into the church and down the aisles toward the altar. Thankfully, no one was about as he scanned the room. It was then his eyes fell to the large cross hanging just above the dais where he was sure the Father often gave a moving mass, offered communion, and spoke what he was sure were the Word of God to the lost little souls that stood, sat and kneeled praying for a salvation that would never come.
With a maniacal grin he moved to the water basin filled with blood, dipping three fingers into the red-black liquid and swirling them around. He pulled out the fingers then, dripping and bright red. With sinister blue eyes he looked at that giant cross and gave it a Boy Scout salute. “You lose.”
Content with his mockery, Adrian quietly slipped into the back rooms of the church, quickly finding a small bed chamber with a shower. He quickly cleaned up, washing his hair, and woefully, the smell of his sweet and tender Mistress. Only moments later he stepped out and dressed in the simple black clothing of Father Santos, leaving the black shirt open exposing his bare chest.
Then, he found his way back to the main hall, took a seat in a pew, and waited for those he knew would come: the Chosen.
wXw is a kind representative for the human species person, living on the edge of our known world.
Father Santos - Day 1, somewhere in Bisbee
Father Santos automatically raised his hand and waved in the air to respond to Jason's gesture. Step-by-step, he quickly covered the entire distance between the pickup and the group of troubled youngsters. He wished intensely to put aside all the story about the day of reckoning and hear, instead, of some everyday troubles of young people.
Jason's friends, thought the priest, are quite an interesting group. To Father Santos, they looked battered, untidy and in a sort of dark mood so typical of today's youth. However, these ones had a sense of extreme battering, and extreme darkness about them.
-Hello there!- greeted the priest with a large comforting smile. He enjoyed the company of youth. And, in truth, he have never missed some genuine complaints about life unfairness as in the last hours.
Helena had been quiet the whole card ride, lighting up the blessedly wonderful cigarette just before climbing in. She'd rolled down the window and sat and watched the short shrub brush and blankness roll by. She moved without though, cigarette still clenched in her teeth as she turned back into the car and pulled her old school camera out of her bag. It wasn't digital, it still took film. And it was somewhere between big and reasonable. Not like any of those little point and shoot ones that most people, especially girls her age, had. But she liked the way pictures took on film came out. And this had been a birthday present from her dad when she turned sixteen, so she wasn't about to not love it.
She took a long drag on the smoke, and without asking, turned to face the back seat, watching Smit through the lens for a long moment before taking a picture of him thinking and staring out the window. He looked rather handsome in that brooding sort of way just then. With hope and a little luck, she might get him to smile for her later.
Helena was just turning to look at Rach, see just what kind of mood she was in when the car sputtered and died. She looked up and out the front window to see just how far from town they were, and right there in front of her was the dinner. Burnt down and little but smoldering timbers and something that was rather like the shape of a building. She only paused to look at Rach again before she climbed out of the car, camera still in hand, and took a picture of the scene that had been the start of it all. Now if only she'd had the foresight to have taken one before she went in.
She leaned back into the car to grab her back, slinging the strap of her camera over her other shoulder as she stood and looked to the back seat at Smit. She wasn't about to go after Rach, that could be someone else's job, because she sure as hell wasn't going to get yelled at again. She might not be able to hold in her own temper and the last thing they needed right now was to be fighting and bickering between themselves.
"Diner?" she asked Smit with a nod of her head back towards the place they'd met at the night before. "Though maybe one that is actually severing food. I'm fucking starving and I haven't eaten since some time yesterday morning."
Smit watched Rach walk off. Again he wondered if he was dead or not. He saw his grandfather, who was dead. He sat in a sweat lodge and had visions. He could have been dead. Then he watched Rach gather anger like the center of a storm gathered winds and that could happen in the afterlife. Maybe he was no longer in the world of the living.
But as he watched Rach he thought about being Chosen. Damn, if from all the people in the world someone picked this group of losers thing were down the tubes in a flash. Who would pick any one of them for anything? If they were selected by the freaked demon, humans had a damn good chance. If they were to defend mankind, then well, maybe it’s time for reptiles to lead again.
Smit got out of the car and moved to stand beside Helena. She didn’t look dead. She said something about being hungry and Smit realized he was too. Could your stomach growl in the afterlife? He nodded to Helena and watched her. He didn’t think he would be thinking of her legs around him if he was dead. He didn’t think he would be noticing her lips, her neck, or her breasts if he was dead. But then the idea of a think I’m gona die, last time ever fuck with her was something he defiantly could imagine. Can’t hate that.
So he draped his arm around her shoulder and spoke quietly, “There’s another place down the street right across from the church.” He didn’t pull her close, or hold her tight at all. His arm just causally hung there and he started to walk sure she would move with him.
“So what does a Culture Anthologist know about the Mayans?” Smit asked.
Roche stepped out of the shower, the steam making the small hotel bathroom thick and hazy. He let the endless hot water fall onto his head and shoulders for a good ten minutes, a small indulgence to the sleep that refused to take him. Every time he would start to nod off the visions of the crime scene would assault his dreams in full surround-sound 3D. There were times he could swear he could hear the murdered children singing, talking, even playing. Roche either needed to crack this case soon or ask for a reassignment.
Quickly, the Detective toweled off and changed into simple but clean clothes of black jeans, a light blue button-down shirt, and over that his leather jacket. He rakes his fingers through his hair not bothering to really brush it, and to complete the ensemble he took his gun and his badge and clipped it to his belt where it could be plainly seen in the front.
For a minute Roche just found himself staring back through the mirror. Oh hell, the circles under his eyes were dark. Maybe he’d been on the job too much. He had some leave time coming, maybe it was time to visit his sister’s family in Colorado. Perhaps it was past time to retire altogether.
With a sigh he quickly cast the thought aside and looked at his watch. He still had a few hours before he needed to walk the Feds though the scene in the Pit. In the meantime, he remembered he wanted to take a look at Bob’s Diner. Though there was no connection between it and the murders, he at least wanted to compare notes with Detective Keyes, and also make sure that Jeanie and Todd were okay. Given that he ate there often he knew they were out of a job. It was difficult to believe that he stopped in for coffee less than twelve hours ago.
Ten minutes later, Roche stepped out of his car at the St. Patrick’s small parking lot and was walking toward the small crowd on onlookers at the still smoldering diner. Already his instincts told him that something was very wrong.
“What are you doing, whore?! I told you to finish your games and be done with it!”
Sapphire giggled, even as she was pinned against the rocky wall her arms and wings splayed. Her air was then cut short and her cackles silenced. She glared at the General, unafraid, though it was only through gasps of air that she managed to respond. “I like her. I want her for myself. The happy girl would be a perfect complement for my Pet. The Toy is merely my means to an end.”
General Pusk tsked. “She is already marked for another, or have you forgotten your place? You are here to watch, to evaluate and make sure the Children do not stray. Your so-called games have the Chosen on edge, or worse breaking. Perhaps I will make King Oberon aware that you yourself are straying from your duty.”
The Succubus’ glowing blue eyes widened. There was fear there, as well as a challenge. “I have not strayed. I swear it. The children are doing as they are told, as is my Pet. But, please, let me have her. No one else. Just her. How good she tastes, such a fine wine. She makes me strong too. So strong, and so fullfilled. I. Need. Her.”
Sapphire actually whimpered with need.
Thin air slapped Sapphire and blood started to trickle from a jagged laceration across her cheek. Slowly Sapphire turned her head back to meet the General’s.
“Do not test my patience, Sapphire. You have changed the game. If you change it again, or if you reveal yourself to one of the Chosen again… mark my Truth, I will send you back for the whims and pleasures of the King and Queen.” The General released the Succubus from his Will then, and she collapsed to the ground, weakened. “In the meantime, I have other matters that require my attention. Prepare the Man, and do not fail.”
The General disappeared then, and it was several minute before Sapphire managed to pick herself up off the ground in the mine. It was not until she was sure he was gone that she smirked. She would do her duty, she always did her duty, but this time… oh yes, this time she would take her own pleasures too. They were hers. The waitress and the Toy. Chosen or not she wanted them, and therefore she would take them.
Now, he was a clever one. Puck could see why the Native was Chosen. His Ancestry was strong, and that commanded respect. From a distance in the shadows he watched the one with the name “He Fights” from the shadows, as he led another toward a small restaurant.
Perhaps this one will be ready ahead of schedule…
With a quick Will of glamour, the General felt his body shifting. His goat legs appeared human, with a pair of old washed-out jeans, and beaten-up sneakers. His bare chest now donned a faded wife-beater shirt and his black hair was covered in a NY Yankee’s baseball cap. Assuming the role of this simple disguise he wandered from the shadows of the cheap mobile home and followed “He Fights” leading the other Chosen toward the restaurant.
The General followed the pair inside, only steps behind.
Shoes, seen better days from constant traveling, pattered against the pavement sidewalk. Everything collapsed in a matter of a day and she was left to pick up the pieces, in a town she knew nothing about. A ball rattled her nerves farther pushing down the aggression she had so violently tossed out. Racheli didn’t feel guilt, it didn’t change anything. All she wanted was her brother, the thought made her scoff. It made her seem obsessive, her body path unblocked as the woman continued those basic motor function, only she knew the reason for it. If she could just see Adrian, she wouldn’t have to worry about anything or about her losing it. Thin fingers, seen the rages of her anger, her art, and much better events gripped about the belt loops. Hips moved forward and back while her eyes just watched ahead, not seeing much of anything saved for where she was going.
The group was a fucking small weak batch of misfits. A grin passed onto her mouth making her seem less fill with anger for the moment, then the moment moved on. Rach hear the crumple of the picture in her pocket and reached in for it, roughly from the tight confines of the slim jeans. Her eyes lay upon it: there was just the two of them, posing like a normal pair of siblings and completely ignorant of the problems they both knew lurked beneath. Gaze flickered to a door, a bar. Why the hell not? Any place was worth a try and besides Rach could begin her search here, trying a drink. It was better than walking into no man’s land until she collapsed from fucking exhaustion Rach reasoned.
She took a deep breath, her id in her back pocket and a small wad of a twenty dollar bill alongside it. Her hand touched the smooth wooden door; pressure pushed it away easily as she entered the building. It was a basic set up. A long bar filled with stools for customers with a few scattered tables and comfort settled back in her, this was her hunting ground. Without absorbing the rest of the scene, Rach plopped her ass on the nearest seat. The bartender didn’t spare a glance as she ordered a shot of Green Apple Schnapps, cleaning a glass and filling with the alcoholic drink after she showed off her id. It slid across the counter with ease, one hand passed him the bill and the other downed the drink in one gulp. Clink. Rach let it hit the wooden surface as she waited for the change, the photo in her hand as she inquired about her brother to the man.
“Ever seen a guy like this around town lately?” She received a simple shake of his head for an answer.
Rach looked pissed, where was he? Snatching the rest of her dollar bills, she crammed them into her pocket and jumped up from the seat. Thanks were mumbled when she made her direction to the door. A mirror glinted, catching her attention making her draw closer to it. The item wasn’t there before or was it? Her hand was held onto the door but her body felt frozen inside, unable to look away for fear she had lost it completely. It wasn’t there before, she knew it wasn’t but why was there now?
Really, though the mirror over the bar had always been there, but the figure that peered back had not always been there. As Rach peered into the mirror, Rach peered back. Her own reflection stared mockingly, knowingly at the lost angry girl. The reflection winked.
Rach’s lips drew up, teeth bared in response, what the fuck now? Hairs on her neck danced in fear, eyes narrowed in defiance almost daring the figure to repeat its independent movement. Not again as her eyes roamed over the figure, clearly her yet it wasn’t, searching for a certain something. This had to be a dream, a god-damn fucking nightmare. Her chest heaved, slowly at first but her breaths became heavier weighted by thick iron heart in the very base of her. This was wrong, all wrong.
“What the fuck do you want?” It was louder than she wanted but Rach didn’t give a damn about any looks she might receive or moved from her position, only her hand dropped from its exit. She would meet this supernatural hit head on, tired of being messed with.
The reflection laughed cruelly, narrowing it's eyes and leaning in close on the other side of the mirror. "Oh, you know what we want. We crave it even now. The blood. The screams. The real question is, how long will you fight the nature?"
Everything went cold, inside her body was plunged into ice water all at once. Her breathing, it stopped and her wide eyes staring the bitch, the filthy bitch of herself like a creature of hell itself. The hate bubbled flaring up that old familiar feeling. Her arms crossed over to hold her, rein in the plague that racked her mind with things she didn’t understand. She was lying. Rach attempts at comfort were nothing more than paper to the fire, burned and consumed by the truth she knew. She needed Adrian but he was nowhere around. It was just her, always just her weak fragile self against her nature, that nature that became all her fucking problems.
“Stop it, just fucking stop it,” the truth slammed up against her head with each word,” I’ll fix you, everything will be fine once…” the last sentence choked off like a shadow to light,” You’re not a part of me, you can’t be damn it. I am in control. I’m in control. I’m in control…” Her arms tightened believing vainly once she found her twin everything would fine, her body held ridged as she pressed her forehead against the mirror without thinking. He was her anchor.
The reflection cackled, the sound resonating, echoing becoming louder. Even the glass reverberated as if about to shatter right then and there.
"Hey, you over there! Get out or I'm calling the cops. And don't even think about ordering another drink." The bartender was standing there with a look of irritation and caution as he stood there, his arms folded across his chest and a white rag in his hands.
Her eyes snapped open at his voice.
The bartender didn’t frighten her not in the least. It was the mirror, the cracking and its actions as if it mocked her. Speechless, Rach stared empty faced at him with hand reaching for the door handle. She had to get out there. The bell rang in her wake, flesh pale and sweating as she darted like a bat out of hell-trying to keep some form of control. Everything tittered and rocked in her scramble, once just once she fell as her breath flew from her lungs.
What the hell was that?
Racheli didn’t know nor did she really give a shit, just that it knew the truth. It didn’t take long for her to stop. Her body pressed up against the building right across from the church, standing like the Bastard’s monument to the world. Like the hell she was going in there… the thought firm in her panting breath, knowing it would take something extreme for her to even consider entering those doors. It was then a memory, Adrian always joked she would catch on fire if she ever entered holy ground. Sadly at this point she was beginning to believe he might be right.
The mirror gag done by Merlot
Last edited by Fallenreaper; 12-28-2011 at 01:36 PM.
Helena looked at where Smit's hand rested on the other side of her arm before she turned her head to look up at him with a soft smile. She stepped closer to him only because it was more comfortable for her, her one hand going to grab one of his belt loops without thinking about it, and followed after him easily. Food sounding so very very appealing that moment that it took her a moment for her brain to process that he had asked her a question. A question about Mayans.
She blinked a bit as she tilted her head against his arm, thinking. "I have a feeling that I don't know quite enough," she sighed, shaking her head some. "Mesoamerica cultures aren't widely covered in schools in Saint Louis. I could though identify their art. But I think that'll be rather useless for us right now."
There was a shiver down her spin as they walked together. Almost like someone was watching her. Which wasn't uncommon. People had a tendency to stare at gingers in general, and they stared at her even more because she looked like the good girl about to get caught up into trouble a lot of the time. But this sort of feeling of eyes on her felt a little different. Maybe she was just jumpy from the night before, but everything still felt a bit off. She didn't say anything about it to Smit and instead just walked along with him after taking a glance at the man who was coming into the dinner behind them.
She didn't wait for any waitress despite the sign that said to wait to be seated. She was hungry, tired, sore, and just done with waiting already. Pulling Smit along with her she choose a booth and sat, facing the front door after moving far enough along the seat that he could choose to sit with her if he so wished. She even patted the seat next to her, giving him a teasing smile. Anything to distract herself from the tingling feelings that something was off that just wouldn't go away.