[b]Samael![/b]

The shadow moves. The shadow does not stay still. Roiling thunderheads of inky night convulse with green lightning, as streams of nothingness ooze from every side and flow away. Reaching. Reaching. Farther and farther out. Probing. Hungry. When it steps, the whole mass looms steadily closer, as the legs alternate freezing and jerking forward. Memories of walking. Imitations of motion. 

“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal, [i]Sam.” [/i]

The voice is...velvet-smooth. Refined. Luxurious in its enunciation. Like yours. 

Far too much like yours.

“There’s no need to be so hard on yourself either! After all, there [i]is[/i] something you can do for our Timmy…”

The fireplace goes out.

You can hear the logs crackling. You can feel...well, not heat, but less cold. But the light winks out, swallowed by the darkness. One by one, the candles, and even the open door succumb to 

It’s before you now. Drawing a tendril across your gashed chest, and wherever it touches is alcohol pouring across the torn flesh, and a thousand stabbing needles of cold too cruel to let you go numb.

The voice whispers in your ear.

[i]”Keep. Your mouth. Shut.”[/i]

[b]Carmen![/b]

Now. You need stay calm. Don’t make any sudden moves. Remember your training.

Because one of your fairy tales is coming true [i]right now.[/i]

You are sitting in the middle of the serpent’s den, and a handsome prince is holding you. Hugging you. Cuddling you tight until you can feel his panicked, [i]human[/i] heart beating against you. He sniffs loudly. Hiccups. With trembling hand he delicately removes his glasses, to better wipe at his glistening eyes, and your heart breaks for him. How long has been kept prisoner here? What have they been doing to him? Justice demands that he go free, and justice has chosen you as its hand. Your whole life’s training has led up to this moment, to be the beacon in the dark for this poor, helpless, hot boy.

The fact you’re a pig? Minor setback. Didn’t have that bit in your dreams. But y’know, evil is ever-crafty. You have to be prepared for anything. You’ll figure something out.

And, yes, your hunch might’ve been wrong last time. That girl might not have been the helpless prisoner you thought she was. But look at him! Crumbling down, alone in a dark hallway, resting his head on you, weeping until he can hardly breathe. Have you ever seen a monster cry like that? From a heart overflowing with fear and sorrow? As a matter of fact, you haven’t. And you’ve seen an awful lot of monsters. Ergo, normal boy.

And, true, he doesn’t look like a prince yet. That comes later, usually after rescuing him, nursing him back to health, and breaking whatever spell’s been put on him. (Protocol for spell-breaking: Kiss him frequently, in as many situations as possible. Process of elimination. You’ll get it eventually.) 

But none of that matters right now! A good hunter thinks in the moment! There’s a helpless, despairing prisoner here with great hair and no idea how near hope is for him. 

What do you do?

[That's gonna be a 3 + 2 + 4 = [b]9[/b] on Turning Carmen On. Timmy is currently without his glasses.]

[b]Annalee![/b]

Don’t you worry, the door hasn’t budged once this entire time. To include just now, when you called for Timothy to join you. And for minutes after. 

Hrm. That’s probably not ideal. Dear little Timmy must’ve gotten scooped up by yet [i]another[/i] one of those monstrous cretins you have to call classmates. I mean, after all, he wouldn’t have the spine to just sit out there, cuddling a pig, [i]ignoring[/i] you, now would he?