<<imma leave the finer details of the future up to you; appearances and places and such.>>
Slowly, Iz lowered her arms from where they'd flown up protectively in front of her face, blinking her eyes against the haze. Her vision cleared in a few short moments, and she gazed around, swallowing dryly. "где я? (Where am I?)" she said softly to herself, cold fear beginning to clutch at her heart. A moment ago, she'd been at home, nearly electrocuting herself...Safe, normal stuff. Now, though...Her breath quickened to nearly hyperventilating, her feet rooted where she stood. Her vision blurred again, but when she started to feel lightheaded, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, closing her eyes again and lowering her hands from chest level to her hips, palms down, in a clearing motion she learned from internet videos of tai chi lessons. It was really the only move that stuck with her, but it helped her to expell the panic that threatened to overcome her.
She hadn't yet to come to be able to accept her new situation when she was dragged out of the safe haven of her mind by a sudden screeching noise. Her eyes flew open, and she had just enough time to throw herself to the ground to avoid what whistled overhead. Her arms crossed again over the top of her head, fearing that the heavy wheels of the vehicle would crush her. When the sound passed without destroying her, she dared to look again, peeking out from under her meager protection. She was alone again, and not dead. Thankful for at least that, she carefully stood again, automatically brushing the dirt from her clothes and skin, taking her first good look around. She stood in the middle of some sort of path, unlike any road she'd ever seen; she backed up carefully, figuring it best to get away from this supposed dangerzone. As she stepped up onto the curb, another strange vehicle whistled by-this one missed her, the wind from it rustling the long front stands of her hair. Her eyes followed after it, amazed.
It wasn't a car. Or a plane. Or anything she knew of. It had no wheels, and didn't even seem to touch the ground as it glided quickly through the air past her and around a corner down the street. It was aerodynamic like a car, but without any of the extra features that allowed for wheels and such, and much faster. Iz's astonishment overrode her fear for a moment as it disappeared from view, her back meeting a wall. She jumped at the unexpected touch, whipping around. If she hadn't had such good cause for her paranoia, she'd have laughed at her silliness. She slid her cell phone from her pocket, calling the first person on her contact list-her nanny, Mrs. Peight. It didn't even right, just responded with an error message. Scowling, she tried the next number, then the one after that. The same result for all of them. Reacing the end of all of the numbers stored in the phone, she cried out angrily in frustration, slamming it shut in her hand and shoving the useless thing back into her pocket.
She closed her eyes again for a moment to take a huffing breath, then reopened them with a new plan. She turned on her heel to face the direction that the weird machine had gone, and headed down the sidewalk. The very first door or person she saw would be her first interrogation victim. It wasn't a good plan, admittedly, but it was the only one she had, and in times like these, it helped to have something set in her mind to do, a goal or destination to work towards instead of just milling around being confused and afraid. Iz put her hands in her pockets, the fingers of one curling around the knife that she kept there, ready to pull it at a moment's notice. She'd already been almost hit by a floating car, after all, so the possibility of her needing to stab something for her safety didn't seem too far fetched.
Leo Valentien nearly jumped out of his skin, choking on the milk he was drinking straight from the carton in the light of the open fridge. "What have I told you about that?" a voice from the darkness asked, wearily. The priest shuffled into visibility, his footsteps on the stairs leading down to the basement kitchen being what had surprised his young ward. They never creaked until the very last step, which groaned like all the demons of Hell.
Leo coughed for a moment, wiping his mouth. "Sorry, Father. It's almost empty anyways." he muttered, sloshing the last mouthful of milk in the jug as evidence. The priest merely rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. "I'll get some more in the morning, promise." he added quickly, though the man waved it off.
"Why are you up at this time, my son? It's late, you should be sleeping." he asked kindly, taking a seat at the table in the corner. The chairs didn't match, one metal and the other plastic. Leo closed the fridge and turned on the light above the sink before taking the other seat. It flickered but eventually settled into an even glow that gently illuminated the room. The two were almost opposites; one old, one young; one dressed in complete silky pajamas, a robe, and slippers with bunny ears, the other clad in only yesterday's boxers, a simple black number, and his typical silver chain necklace.
"I could ask you the same thing." he replied evasively, taking a sip from the jug on the table.
"I was inspired by a dream for next week's sermon; I doubt you have similar inclinations." the priest said, his wrinkled face shifting into a smile, one eyebrow raised skeptically. He'd offered many times for Leo to help with the services on Sunday, and had been politely rejected the same amount.
He shrugged. "I woke up and was thirsty." he said, his eyes looking away.
"The same one?"
"I'm sorry. Have they been bothering you a lot recently or just tonight?"
The priest pressed his lips together. "My son, I listen to lies everyday. I, of all people, can spot an untruth."
"It's not every night, just when I go to sleep when I'm not really tired." Leo defended, not wanting the kind old man to waste time worrying about something as dumb as his dreams, troublesome though they were. "Anyways, milk helps me sleep. I'm tired again, so I'll see you in the morning." He finished off the milk in one last gulp, dropping the empty container in the trashcan as he walked out of the kitchen. "Night." he added, his hand waving absently over his shoulder as he rounded the corner to ascend the stairs, the first step squeeling under his bare foot. The priest's well-wishes for his dreams followed him up like a friendly spirit.
He took the stairs up several flights, past doors that lead to the other stories. His movements became more lethargic as he walked, until he finally reached his stop. He opened the door, running his hand through his dark, tangled hair. The lamp on his bedside table was still on, casting odd shadows about the room. It was, like the rest of the church, simple and old, with solid wood floorboards covered with a thinning rug. His bed was shoved against one wall, the open side facing the window that looked out over the courtyard and further out to the city beyond. He didn't have a lot of stuff-a few books and knick knacks he'd collected over time atop a dresser filled with his neatly folded clothes. The only other furniture was a fold out couch he'd orginally slept on before getting a real bed, the final sign of permant residence. Above his bed was a roughly hewn wooden cross that the priest had made for him as a home warming gift.
He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his tired eyes blinking slowly at the floor. As he moved to turn off his lamp, another light burst into the room. Close nieghbors awake at the time would later wonder at lightning like that with such a clear sky. Leo leapt to his feet, spots crowding his vision, his arms outstretched and ready for whatever was going on. "What the hell was that?" he said, a bit too loudly, his feet scooting the cross that had clattered from it's perch in the ruckus. He stretched out his arm, his hand connecting with something new. He jerked his hand back, his dazzled eyes returning to normal levels. Before him was revealed a person-a girl. Leo stood in stunned silence for a moment. She seemed just as disoriented, if not more so, than him. He snapped out of it when she spoke. "How about you tell me what's going on?" he demanded, grabbing her wrist to turn her towards him, though not too harshly.