shylarah

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

The footsteps came closer. It was someone she knew -- the step and smell was familiar -- but Lee couldn't figure out who it was. They knelt, reached for her, and she knew that as bad as things seemed, everything would be alright.

Live.

The word resonated through her, and now instead of just peace Lee felt the pain receding. She could move her fingers, slowly lift her head. A semblance of rational thought returned. Had she not been hit as badly as she thought?

First, get out of the street.

Lee didn't trust her balance just then, so she crawled over to the curb rather than trying to stand. She seemed to be alright, though she could feel parts of her coat that seemed damaged. She was shaking rather badly but beyond that, she didn't feel hurt. She cast around with her senses for the one she thought had just been at her side. There! They were strangely hard to make out, and she still had the nagging sense of familiarity, though she couldn't place it.

"H-hello?" Lee called, her voice shaky and uneven. "Excuse me... do I know you?" They'd helped her somehow, she thought, but just how she wasn't sure. How on earth was she still in one piece? That couldn't be any one person's doing, she was sure of that, so...was she just lucky?

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

@Malice I like the name idea; it's clever. Do you want this to be an actual meeting, or should Lee be found and taken to the hospital and your reaper has to track her down again as a human?

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

@Malice that could work. So your reaper is more curious about humans than overzealous? Should be fun~

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

@Malice I'd figured Lee's death was the catalyst, but I'm game either way. And if she does hear him as a reaper, it's because she's on the brink of death. She's totally supposed to die.

Feel better soon!

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

It took all her control not to snap at Finnegan as he used, repeatedly, the one nickname she could never stand. Christopher alone used it, and more often he used the childish form of "Lyssa". Without even thinking, she pulled her hand away. Perhaps Finnegan had truly realized his thoughtlessness, but would that even last beyond the duration of the perfume's effects?

He called their first dance a conquest, and that was the final straw. The expression in her grey eyes turned cool, her lips thinned to a flat line. "You should know better than to call me that," she said once he'd finished with more "Alyssa"s, her voice distant. She didn't say a word of forgiveness. "Walter...I need to leave. You have my apologies." She grabbed the folded metal form of her wings from where they lay near her chair and held them near her back long enough for her control of them to take over and lock them into their sockets.

Finnegan rose to stop her, but in his current state it was easy enough to dodge around him and make it to her jacket, and then the door and beyond to freedom. Outside Alyssana spread her wings and leaped skyward, and she did not look back. The hated nickname still rang in her ears, and it took some time of the cool wind rushing past before the sound faded from mind. She knew she'd responded too harshly, but she'd also done her best to stay calm. She'd apologize once Finnegan was sober.

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

"I am unwilling to conceed the point, but very well. Assuming you were immune...only a week ago you were singing Lady Sylvia's praises." Alys couldn't help the note of disdain that crept into her tone. "Last month it was Miss Evelyn. How is this different?"

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

Yes, there it was. The potion talking -- would he believe that? It was worth a try, Alyssana supposed. "Finny, do you remember earlier, in the lab? You got doused with one of your perfumes. The same one you used on Miss Evelyn." She tried to keep the thread of accusation out of her voice -- this was more than punishment enough for his misdeeds in that situation, even if Alys hadn't quite forgiven him for it. "Among its effects are severe infatuation."

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

With Lady Sylvia manuevered out the door, and it locked behind her, Alyssana allowed herself to indulge in a moment of relief. She'd never liked the woman, and was glad to have her gone. But only a moment before she turned her attention to Walter, trying his best to speak over the uncomfortably mushy expounding of Finnegan. If she didn't know about the perfume she might have wondered what had gotten into him, for while he was a flirt this was far beyond his usual affectionate banter. As things stood, the more he said, the harder it was for Alys -- both the needle-sharp twinge of guilt and simple embarrassment on his behalf.

"If Finnegan knows the most, then I suppose we'll have to wait until he's feeling more like himself," she declared, speaking over Finny with the ease of a teacher who'd faced her share of intractable students. "No, there's no need to knock him out, Walter. ...Let me try to speak with him."

And so Alyssana settled herself again in the chair across from Finnegan. "What do I need to understand, Finnegan?" she asked, tone gentler, more patient. She'd already braced herself for the awkwardness of his answer, but if hearing him out would allow them to move forward with other matters, she felt obligated to endure it.

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

Setting is either Chicago suburbs or those of a Chicago-like city. I've set the month as probably early March. @Malice I hope this works as a starter. The footsteps can be your reaper, or maybe Lee just imagined them.

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

The day had started like any other. Cecilly finished teaching towards the end of the afternoon, and after the end of the last class for the day she tidied the studio before locking up. The weather was chilly, but most of the winter's snow had melted away, and she thought she smelled the hint of spring. Still, the wind gusted cold, and she pulled her jacket closer and buried her nose in her fluffy scarf until it died down, glad for the warmth of both. There was a smile on her face as she headed off down the street.

Cecilly was in her thirties, but years of dance and self-defense had her in superb shape. She was tall and solidly built, with short, dirty blonde hair that framed a round face. She wore a matched fleece outfit over her closefitting dance clothes to guard against the weather, and worn running shoes, but she wasn't at all self conscious because of it. Her stride was confident, and from a distance it was impossible to tell she was blind. In a world where a significant percentage of the population had some minor magic ability, she had been very lucky that hers compensated for the fact that she'd been born without eyesight. Instead, she "saw" the world in spaces and distances between things, sensing their locations. It gave her some advantages over the seeing at close range, but as things got farther away what she could sense dropped off sharply.

She heard the car coming, but it had a red light and she was already halfway across the street. Even if she'd known that it wasn't going to stop, there might not have been time to get out of the way. It was going far too fast, and she had just enough time to realize she was in trouble before her world imploded.

The sound of the car's engine moving away was muffled. There was something cold and hard and uneven digging into her cheek, and under her fingers. It took a long moment for her to realize that it was the asphalt of the street, that the rhythmic noises were the footsteps of someone approaching. She was far too disoriented to make them out in great detail, but she prayed they would help. Please God, I'm not ready to die. I don't want this to be the end. It was more the idea than actual words, but that was the thought that ran through her head. Please.