[hider=What Abigail Did]   Abigail’s eyes snapped open.
 
She was curled up as tightly as possible in the middle of her bed in her dressing gown, the sheets still tucked up. It was uncomfortably humid in the mobile home - it always was during the summer, the same way it was always too drafty in the winter. Opening all of the windows didn’t help and since Abigail was home alone, she had them all shut and bolted anyway...security measures. Something had woken her up. She tilted her head back a little to peer at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table and frowned when the neon green numbers flashed “4 : 1 7 A M” at her. She shut her eyes again, pressing her knees to her chest, pulling her arms in, and waited for sleep to settle in again.
 
But something had woken her up. Abigail waited a little longer. Okay, yes, she didn’t have to sleep as much as a human but she only went to bed a few hours ago. Her alarm was set for 10 so she could pick Victor up from Parael’s house. She couldn’t remember her dream but she knew it wasn’t a nightmare because she still felt human - she hadn’t changed her appearance in her sleep. So what was it? Did she need to pee? Did something go bump in the night? Did Victor come home?
 
Abigail sighed through her nostrils. She rolled off the bed and hopped up to her feet, stretching and cracking her knuckles as she crept barefoot through the carpeted hall. She had the general sense of unease that you’d usually get when you’re home alone and something’s a bit off. She gently, imperceptibly, opened the door to Victor’s bedroom and listened intently. There were no snores and no rustles for a while so she poked her head in. The room was empty, the bed still made from the day before; Victor wasn’t home.
 
After she gave the house a quick once-over, Abigail determined that there really wasn’t anyone else in the house except for her. That still didn’t put her mind at ease and she still felt restless, fidgety, and worked up for no particular reason at all. There wasn’t much else she could do at home to calm down. This was a regular occurrence anyway. Abigail went back to her room and got dressed, pulled on her sneakers, then grabbed an old donut box from the back of the fridge.
 
Allard Park was as normal as it had ever been. Deer and hedgehogs wandered around a few feet away from her, the hoots of owls accompanied the sound of all the night insects, the screeches of bats, the weird nattering noises of hobgoblins and pixies. Everything was okay here. It didn’t put her mind at ease. She kept looking around and she could feel herself becoming skinnier as she kept inexorably distorting and reforming, trying to appear as human as physically possible...maybe it wasn’t a brilliant idea to walk into a forest full of monsters at night when Abigail was feeling so...so...she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Emotions were hard to get a solid understanding of, they always had been.
 
Abigail placed the old donut box in the fork of a large and gnarled oak and flicked it open. Inside were a collection of sweets, small pastries, and a one of those disposable ketchup pots filled with honey. There were also little sprigs of dried herbs and flowers pushed in the gaps. Whenever she had a moment or two to herself, Abigail enjoyed making little offerings for the faeries in the park and usually leaves them near Violet’s tree so she can distribute them out evenly. It always did good to keep on the good side of the Fae and Abigail knew that all too well. It especially helped if you bribed them when you had a feeling something bad was going to happen. She watched a small winged figure buzz down and land near the profiteroles, eyeing them greedily. “Aren’t you gonna wait for Violet?” asked Abigail placidly, receiving a feral hiss in return. Abigail shrugged her shoulders and wandered off as the pixie dug into the treat with gusto.
 
Abigail was wandering the streets of New Camden aimlessly. She didn’t want to go home just yet and considered watching the sunrise - dawn couldn’t be too far away now. Maybe she’d be able to sleep better when she managed to drag Victor back home and let him sleep off whatever cocktail of drugs and alcohol he managed to stuff down his throat this time...or maybe she could just nap in Parael’s playroom. She found it difficult to make up her mind with this nagging sensation eating away at her train of thought. It had gotten worse, as if whatever it was managed t-
 
She literally reeled at the feeling. Never, not once, not EVER had she experienced such an immense sense of darkness. Demonic energy was different, more familiar. This was just...wrong. Evil. Bad. And incredibly dark. And it was immediately followed by an immense sense of fear, then panic, as her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and she twisted around to look at the point of origin that this blast of power came from. The museum was making some really weird lights, she could see it from down the street.
 
And then...some man came running out of the museum, looking terrified. He hopped onto a motorcycle and roared down the street as Abigail moved out of the way hastily. Her eyes narrowed and she looked back at the museum, which was starting to do some even weirder shit. Abigail panicked again, but she couldn’t will herself to move. She sat down on the pavement.
 
She wasn’t a stranger to magical mishaps. Hell, she was a magical mishap if you thought about it enough. She’d seen more demons than most and even witnessed their power from time to time, but Victor was always there, he was always in between her and whatever godawful situation lay before them. But this? Whatever happened in there? Abigail was on her own.
 
She didn’t have to be, though.[/hider]
 
...Which is why Abigail sprinted in through the open doorway to Parael’s daycare, half-human, half-changeling, eyes jet black and claws already piercing the ends of her sneakers. She basically ignored Rusty and Stella in the kitchen and made a beeline towards a pair of dress shoes poking out of the ball pit in the corner of the playroom. Victor was sprawled out across the entirety of the pit, his torso submerged in brightly coloured plastic spheres. In his left hand an almost burnt-out cigarette smoldered lazily in the gloom; his right hand’s fingertips brushed the sippy cup of what appeared to be whiskey and his head was tilted back, mouth open, snoring lightly. Abigail shook his shoulder. Hard. 
 
It took a solid few shakes for Victor to finally awaken from his stupor, absolutely oblivious to the yelling and banging caused by Rusty and co from before. Slowly fluttering his heavy eyelids open, Victor stared at Abigail with a stare of someone who has no idea what’s going on. Eyes barely open, waiting to hear Abigail speak before making his move, unsure if he’s in trouble or not.
 
“The museum just let loose a massive blast of dark energy. There’s lightning coming out the windows. Some hairy guy took off on a bike shortly afterwards and he’s in the fucking kitchen.” Abigail spoke quickly and urgently, with little to no traces of fear in her voice. It was slightly raspy as the panic sent her into full changeling form, absolutely ruining her sneakers with wide holes in the leather for those talons. She looked around quickly and went “I didn’t want to go home. Didn’t you feel it? It was still out there when I went in but I think the wards are blocking it.”

Victor continued to stare at her in his sleepy state. After what felt like a solid minute Victor moaned a “Mhm…” at her, nodding slowly trying to convey his understanding. “Five minutes.” was all he could muster before closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the edge of the ball pit he had spent the last few hours in. 
 
“We don’t HAVE five minutes,” snarled Abigail as she gripped his shoulder a little too tightly and shook even harder so his head banged off the edge of the ball pit a few times. “Everything’s gone from fine to fucked and I’m pretty sure that guy on the bike had something to do with it and instead of reacting you’re just lying there like a motherfucking potato because you’re too drunk to even process what I’m FUCKING saying to you.” She spat out every word in rapid succession and then grabbed the sippy cup and took a massive swig, glaring down at her carer.
 
Victor let out a groan before wafting a hand in the direction of Abigail. “Alright-.. Argh! Alright! Geez. Help me up.” he’d mutter, eyes still closed as he holds the same hand out for her to help him out of what now felt like a booby-trap. Abigail grumpily complied. Once up on his feet, Victor took his time, his surroundings slowly settling in as he arched and twisted his back awake. With a pat and scratch on Abigails head, he casually strutted towards the main hall “Go uh… go find Parry.” he’d nod her off before making his way to the kitchen to stare at Rusty attempt to use a rotary phone, “You uh… you need help there big guy?”
 
Abigail was somewhat placated by the head-scratches but muttered “You’re not taking this seriously” as Victor tottered past her towards the kitchen. She didn’t need to look for Parael. If he wasn’t there soaking up the party vibes, he was down in the basement with a needle in his forearm. She didn’t need to run anymore now Victor was (somewhat) dealing with It, whatever It happened to be.
 
Parael was flinging nappies onto an old car engine in his frantic bid to find...something. Mummy? What mummy? Was that what happened? “...Uncle Parry?” Abigail called out tentatively as she approached the celestial. No point changing back into a human, too much effort and probably not safe by now, so she stood over him as a pale monster-girl-hybrid with the expression of a scared child seeping onto her features now that the initial rage was subsiding. “What’s going on?”