Eliza felt stupid. Really stupid. Like, ‘just made the biggest mistake of your life’ stupid, because that’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? She’d told Kyle she was going on a business trip, she’d told work she had pneumonia, and where the hell was she? Canada! Alberta bloody Canada! Staring at herself in the mirror, she splashed a bit of water on her face to help cool her down. It was much more important than the integrity of what little make-up she wore, just then, or it would have been if a pair of shoes hadn’t clicked their way into the restroom. Men’s shoes, dark and brightly shined, and followed by another pair of them. Two men stepped into the bathroom, one of them turning and gently sliding the floor and ceiling locks of the door into place. The other stepped forward and flicked the cuffs of his grey suit, his face smiling in a way that he wasn’t. [sub]That he can’t, sweetling. Skin with holes for eyes and teeth does not a face make.[/sub] “Hello.” The man said, his voice dull against the tiled bathroom, almost lost in the flushing from a stall down the way. He stepped towards Eliza easily while the other man--also in grey, the exact same color, the exact same dark shoes--stepped past them to make his way towards the flushing from the stall. “This is the ladies’ room, you can’t be in here.” She finally managed, her throat dry and her face hot as it had been before the water. Her heart was in her throat, so she swallowed it back down. The whispers of the little voice were more insistent, now, louder than they’d ever been. [sub]Don’t let him touch you, sweetling, don’t let him take you. There is no Elvarren with the not-men, and they will take you where I cannot follow. Please, sweetling, don’t let them--[/sub] The voice was interrupted by the grasp of a hand on her wrist, strong but gentle, and the not-face alarmingly close to hers. “Hello.” It said again, and it showed its teeth. Like a smile, but not quite. “Get off me.” When she jerked her hand away it came easily and she backpedalled on the ground. She seemed as surprised as the man had been--he kept looking between her and his hand, flexing the fingers awkwardly as if they hadn’t done what they were supposed to. He looked more confused, and a little disappointed, than angry, which made one of them. Eliza [i]was[/i] angry now, more than a little fed up with this rubbish, and she marched for the door outside past the man with an insistent step and a squaring of her slim shoulders. “I’m leaving now, and you’d better--” “Hello.” The man said again, this time with a frown, but when he reached for her shoulder this time Eliza turned and [i]pushed[/i] him in the chest. She was going to say something, tell him to back off, but she didn’t have time. As soon as her fingers hit his chest there was a sharp and distinct cracking sound, a bending of the meat in the shape of the body, and the man in grey flew back like he’d been shot with a cannon. He broke through the porcelain sink he’d been standing in front of, shattered the mirror on the wall and split the tile down the drywall and stayed there, hanging in the small crater of his impact. He wasn’t moving. “Oh...my…” And neither was Eliza. The only thing that was happened to be the man’s partner, who was looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes from the stall he’d just gone to investigate. What happened to the person who’d been finishing up was anyone’s guess. He started towards her with the same frown as his partner, as if he’d flicked a light switch and the lights hadn’t come on. “Hello.” He added, for good measure, and quickened his step as Eliza shrank back from him. There was water pooling across the floor, now--the fixture had broken, it seeped out from behind the first grey man like blood--and his partner’s shoes splashed in it as he cut through the distance between them. The grey man extended a hand for her, reaching this time for her bicep-- “Get [i]away[/i] from me!” She hadn’t meant to scream, but it came out as a shriek when she did the only thing she could think of. Balling her hand, she brought it down on the creature’s chest in the time-honored but useless defense of the meek against the mighty. Ordinarily, beating on someone’s chest once they’ve grabbed you is little more than a moral protest. It isn’t going to stop anyone from doing anything, or at least it wouldn’t if it hadn’t been Eliza doing it. Instead, the grey man crumpled to the floor with the kind of ‘crack’ that said unpleasant things about what had happened to the bones in his chest. He might as well have been hit with a sledge hammer. When she left, he was still wheezing from the floor, trying to understand what exactly had broken to puncture a lung. To her credit, Eliza St. John was not running. She was walking, very quickly and very forcefully, towards the rental lot. And, if you must know, she was crying. Terror can do that to a woman. [hr] By the time Eliza hit the gas station most of the panic had run out of her like blood from an emotional gunshot. There was only just so long the human body could withstand that kind of emotion, and in her regular life--she still thought of it as her ‘real’ life, like this was all some little dream--about the most alarming thing that happened to her on a regular basis was realizing that she’d double-booked dinner. This was…she’d just… Well. If she’d managed to calm down to something resembling a normal state of mind, it didn’t mean that her hand wasn’t shaking. She felt tired, the bags beneath her eyes hot and heavy. Her sweater had been warm enough in the shiny little rental car but it wasn’t quite enough for the stiff breeze outside of it, and with her slim fingers tucked under her arms she bristled and rolled her shoulders together for warmth. How much longer could filling up the tank take? It was only a 10 gallon, for Christ’s sake… She was antsy. She could [i]feel[/i] them getting closer, which was ridiculous because she didn’t ‘feel’ things. Still, they had to be coming for her, right? Whatever agency they were a part of, ([sub][i]No agency of men, sweetling...[/i][/sub] that little part of her whispered) they weren’t about to let something like that stand, right? And this time they wouldn’t be as stupid, get as close. Standing out by the car, she resisted the urge to light a cigarette and waited until the meter clicked to a stop before buttoning the car up and getting in. There were already too many people, too many cars, and she was certain that some of them would be driven by more of those...things. Her heart jumped at a flash of grey, at a long and thin tie, but they were just normal people after all. As she slid back behind the seat wheel of her car, she had the awful impulse to cry again. [i]‘’Hey. You there! Lady!’’[/i] A young adult with a boyish face and a scar across his lip in a thick winter coat, but there’s something weird about him. She [i]knew[/i] that he wasn’t like everyone else--in the same way that [i]she[/i] wasn’t like anyone else--in the same way she was starting to [i]know[/i] that he was on her side and not theirs. But what the hell did that mean, even?! What were the bloody sides?! Before she could talk, he was weaving between the cars and settling himself into her passenger’s seat. She stared at him, the steering wheel deforming beneath her fingertips with the anxious whine she would have liked to let out herself. [i]‘’Call me Dusk. I’ve come to help you find Elvarren.’’[/i] ‘Elvarren’. That’s the word he used. Already that soft voice in the back of her mind was whispering, trying to get her to move. [i]Elvarren[/i]. It didn’t sound like it had when the Grey Men had said it out of his mouth, somehow. It made her want to go. “[i]We need move, [b]fast[/b]! We’ll use your car. But if the Greymen have seen it; I advise you ditch it somewhere in the forest and come with me on foot. We’ll use the train stop a few miles to the east to carry us further. I know you are well in the right not to trust me, but i’ve got experience with these people.’’[/i] “Who the Hell are you people? Us people?” Eliza managed in a strangled whisper, blinking her eyes sharply before coughing past the lump in her throat and starting up. If her world was getting thrown out the window, she was going to have to start playing by new rules somewhere along the way. It would have been easier if he wasn’t quite so young. Eliza pulled out of the gas station and headed North. She was...and she couldn’t believe she was even thinking this...going to ditch her rental in the woods. At least she’d bought the extra insurance. [hr] [sub]Collaboration with [@Grijs].[/sub]