[hider=Peter]
[indent][indent][sub] H E A D W A T E R S ,   M O T E L    -     L O B B Y  [/sub][/indent][/indent]
As  Annie and Peter entered the building, the cool air from the lobby of the Missouri motel tickled his skin.  It reminded him of something from long ago, but this teasing remembrance would not let him follow that strange rabbit of a memory for very long.  The trail it scampered down was much too confusing and lavishly impossible to track.  He just had no hope for catching it and was forced yet again to merely accept that it was there for some reason unbeknownst to him.  Perhaps, he would never know what had caused it, which was depressing to realize he may never know, and for as long as he had been a vampire, it appeared most of his immortal existence had been some kind of fragment of elusively remembered information pieced together in some morbid time warp and projected into his disturbed mental workings as a perpetual method of torture.  Oh, how hilarious it was that at some point of his existence that happened closer to after his Embrace, he thought he would eventually get used to the sorrowful and maddening feeling of loss of memory and grow calloused towards this repetitious thing that hurt and twisted his nous so much.  Such a thought was just a naive Malkavian’s fairytale, for the feeling only grew worse and worse each time it occurred.

What Hell of a time being a vampire was, but Peter as still alive, right?

The door shut behind them.  The atmosphere set itself in whatever erie tone it was supposed to present itself, and for an immortal thing that had trouble focusing on something for extended periods of time, the ironic scene of a Risen watching a television that was displaying a bloody shitfest of gory entertainment caught Peter’s attention immediately like a slapstick comedy.  A small bubble of laughter caught itself from bursting in a tight lipped smile by the feel of his shirt being tugged by a trembling child’s fist.  His hand slowly drifted to grasp that of the young girl’s fist with cautious intentions and stroked her soft skin with the coolness of his thumb as a means to calm the poor thing. Oh, how little Annie and her darling little family had saved him so many of times.

His eyes shifted back-and-forth between the television screen and the Risen.  His mouth opened to say something but paused as he filtered his thoughts into proper words, “I do indeed have one of those names,” his eyes finally settled on the Risen as the small ends of his lips flickered and tried to contain his emotions suddenly and curiously like a switch being turned from the dark, clouded madness that had been intoxicating him upon arrival, “So, yes…” the tip of his tongue brushed his bottom lip before settling on a half-crooked smile of wonderment and perplexity over where this silly maze would lead him.

Annie’s eyes peered up at Peter.  An eight year old’s conscious determined the situation with hesitation, still drunk on her faux uncle with his palm holding her hand so securely.  Her dark eyes admired the seemingly young man holding her hand and then looked towards the television, mouth parting in childish cowardice and fear.  The eight year old’s imagination took hold of her, and as a natural order of things, she tucked her body quietly behind Peter for some security like the weird man at the counter would suddenly try to consume her or harm her as were the scary things were doing to the people on the television.  She didn’t really want to be here, anymore, but there was something stopping her from dissuading herself against whatever Uncle Scottie wanted of her. So instead, she buried her tiny face into his shirt, breathing in whatever she could of him for comfort.

Peter’s head turned slightly as he focused on the young girl who grabbed his attention once more, “It’s okay, little Annie, [i]my lamb[/i].  Nobody wants to hurt [i]you[/i],” He followed his attention back to the Risen.  His face shifted, smile cracking with slight lust for blood as he studied the walking dead thing in front of him.  Peter did not want any trouble.  He was already in enough trouble… or would be, when and if the Prince found out.  But, [i]oh[/i], he was quite intrigued.  He had not stumbled here by chance. No,  no, he had followed the Cobweb’s instructions, and so many possibilities were opening their mouths ready to devour his sanity.  

Releasing the girl’s small fist, Peter traced his up her slender arm, brushing the tips of his fingers against her virgin flesh and petite shoulder before firmly securing it over her light silk trodden head, which was resting into him, “I think your television is scaring her,” he narrowed his eyes while his face still managed to hold his freakish grin.  His head tilted sideways, studying the movements of the thing in front of him, so knowledgeable he could be, resting in that skin.  This would mark the second time Peter came across a wraith, and a strong desire to know about the creature was drawing an abundance of attention from the vampire and his dollish ghoul.  The carnival was still holding more importance, however.[/hider]