@Kinjaav@Eviledd1984Vanessa observed from her window as Beck left fuming, disappearing beyond Nessa's line of sight. Soon she felt her phone buzz - finally, really - and she looked up at the text she'd recieved.
"A werewolf? Really?" Nessa muttered to herself in disbelief. Was Beck messing with her?
Peering out the half curtained window, Nessa glanced at the man still standing outside, looking pretty darn suspicious. His clothes were a bit rattled and torn in places, a look that didn't fit with his otherwise well groomed appearance. Nessa frowned, perplexed.
A werewolf? What is this, Twilight? Nessa texted back, her irritation mingling with the need for escape. Still, she didn't take Beck for a woman who was a liar - maybe a bit nuts sure, but definitely not the liar type unlike Nessa herself. Sighing, Vanessa scrambled her ebony locks into a messy bun, turning all the lights off and locking up her apartment as she exited into the stairway. With her bag on her shoulder, the ravenette made her way down the stairs gingerly, supporting herself on the rail to keep from putting too much weight on her healing leg.
Now Nessa was on the ground floor. Her keen senses burned ever bright as if they were alerting her of the immediate danger that waited for her outside. Turning on her heels, the amber eyed vampire made her way out of the back door that led to the street on the opposite side of the apartment building. That should buy her some time.
Trying her best to hide the slight limp caused by the ever healing wound on her shin, Nessa made her way hastily along the street, trying to find a route for a perfect escape.
Aava stood there with a confused look on her face as the skeleton man took his leave. Was it something she'd said?
The näkki simply watched as her friend tried to hurry after the bony man, words slipping out of his mouth in desperation.
'She's not a monster it's just—' Evren had said. Aava stood there, expression blank, almost lost.
'Monster.' Hirviö.Was she a monster?
What was that feeling inside of her? That little girl, gasping for air. Arms flailing, trying to grasp a last hold of life, of warmth. Wanting to scream for help, but too busy fighting for her life to do so. Too busy gasping for air as the cold water finally drained her of her last resolve, convincing her to stay and sleep forever.
Distant memories whirling in her head like whispers of the past, Aava found her hands were trembling.
Monster. She was a monster.
Had she always been this way?
Where had she been? What had happened to her?
Looking up from her hands to Evren, Aava found that his face was blurry like a distubed reflection on a lake. A lone tear spilled over, stabilizing her friend's face. The question ate away inside of Aava because the truth was she didn't know. She didn't know what had happened to her. She felt like she'd been missing time. A lot of it.
Taking Evren's hand quietly, Aava began tugging, leading him out of the shop. The books were still with them, but thanks to the fainted cashier it didn't really matter if they paid or not. Aava had more urgent matters to do. To show Evren where she'd been.
Walking down the street, the two passed the skeleton man. Aava glanced at him with weary eyes, hurt and mistrust shining in them as she continued tugging her friend's hand and rounding a block to a shaded alleyway. There it was - the planked up shop Aava had crawled out from. The one with the window she'd broken, and the shards of glass on the dusty, wooden floor.
Aava led Evren inside of the boutique, showing him the shards of the broken jar on the floor. The liquid inside of it had dried on the dusty floor, leaving a jagged splatter pattern in its wake. The shop smelled old, wood and a hint of musky water. Aava's lake's water.
"(There. I've been there,)" the näkki deadpanned, her voice quiet and sorrowful, finger pointing at the shattered jar on the floor.
The shop's shelves were full of other jars, too. One was missing from an upper shelf - presumably the one Aava had been trapped in and that was now smashed on the floor. The other jars had labels on them with weird scribbles. One of them had what Aava could only picture were pickled eyes. All of the jars had something strange or disturbing in them, almost like a display or a collection.
Aava simply looked at Evren, slowly letting go of his hand.