Night, it can seem never ending when caught between what was and what will be. Just a few scant movements on the calendar the days and nights went by as they always had. You rose, you lived, you slept. Yet now, things have changed. Over the last day everything changed. You knew they were still out there. Hiding, hunting, feeding. They were not on the forefront of your mind though, relics of a former era that were surely being snuffed out of existence with each passing minute.
You could sleep in peace, that was until the dreams came. No the nightmares. They came, and then they claimed one.. Filling the heart and mind with dread and rendering it stone cold and frozen. Away from the light of the day. Perhaps it is a good thing that the mind can break, at least temporarily. For if she continued, feeling each pain, would she not seek solace from the pain? An escape that could damn her soul beyond far worse than her mothers was? Tis only the beginning.
"Everything has a beginning..."
Rising sun, and dreams of yesterday are nearly forgotten. What paths shall come today as the horizon bursts alive with the color of fire? Breath being held causes a chill to run through the bones as the cells die but not today. Crimson boils to new levels for whatever pains were felt yesterday they are nothing compared to trials and piercing that await you on this day.
However frightening your dreams were the night before, you crave them come this morning. They were at least something. Last night, there was nothing. As you fell to sleep an emptiness filled you and a darkness surrounded you. Could you fight it? No, you lay there as death, unmoving through the hours even though minutes and hours ticked by until the sun rose. Were you even alive or had you finally tasted what death was truly like? Was there nothing out there come the stilling of your heart and vanquishing of your breath? It matters not...
"No matter the path you take."
Dawn rose and the sun is shining now. There are choices to make but does it truly matter the path you take today? Will they all just lead to more death? Chose carefully for each step you take today will mean the difference between life and death for at least one of you. Death is coming, death has come. It has claimed another of the souls whose breath was steady the day before. Another body to be laid to rest as the death count continues to climb and the bell continues to toll.
Breathe, you must breathe! slowly and steady, sharp and short. It matters not, just keep breathing, just keep moving. The bells clang from the tower of London and echo out through the city; just as they do through other cities and towns dotting the island. Church bells ringing... Hearts dying... Minds breaking... Blood pouring... Something wicked this way is coming. You are not ready...
"Fight it as you may..."
Of course you are not ready. Hold up in your homes, safe in your bed. Have you forgotten the shadows which ran through the city the night before last? I warned you but you did not heed my warnings. Have you forgotten me? Do you not remember the screams? Whatever pain befalls you today, you brought it on yourself! Open your eyes, listen with your ears! There is still time but the sands in the hour glass are slipping through and they will not stop. When the last one falls, it will be too late.
It can't be too late. I can still hear you breathing. I know you still are among the living. Help me! They are coming. Do not let them take me again! Can you hear me or is it only my mind screaming now? I feel the sting of the needle, it is piercing my flesh. A draw of string through my skin, I shudder and weep. Will I ever be heard again? Help me!!!"You'll find your way to the grave."
The darkness released you finally, but before it let you rise completely this morning you heard the scream. Blood curdling and anguished. The voice of a child muffled and hard to grasp but the torturous bellowing from behind sealed lips was unmistakable. You cannot make out what the child said but you know the cries of a child, they are all too common in this day an age. Was it a boy or a girl? Does it matter? I think not.
The cries fill your mind, in the space between the day and the night. That half slumber where you seek and fight, controlling and losing control. Finally the scream breaks and the day has begun for you and the hours move quickly... Before you realize it, the clock tolls ten in the morning... God, if you are out there, help us...
March 22nd, 1823
Port Annan, Scotland
The Parson rose early that morning, seemingly unaffected by the haunting darkness and screams in the night. Did he not hear them? The inn is quiet even though the day has long begun. How long have you been awake? You cannot tell but it could not have been long could it? It matters not - between the time you wake and the time you step out of the door into the tavern it could have been an hour or three - yet something kept you behind that door until the stroke of ten... Nigel and his wife are making the rounds, cleaning out the rooms of those that checked out this morning and serving breakfast to those that remain and will be leaving. A note is there for Miss Brennan, one that Nigel will hand over when he first sees her this morning. -
"Miss Brennan, I have gone to fetch provisions and secure the carriage. I shall be back promtly at eleven." - Signed - Parson Cumming. The Glimmeric: For such an establishment the place is quiet as a church mouse this morning. The last patrons did not leave until nearly dawn. Many coming in and hiding from the gossip and horrors that occurred at Almack's that evening. Oh the words spread like wild fire. Talk of murder and death and Soulless. Many a men came in after leaving their families at home, sneaking out under the cloak of darkness to seek solace in a warm bed and a deep drink. What little sleep you had was torn away with the scream. For some reason you refuse to step out of the building, and the girls will not leave or answer their doors until the stroke of ten. Once the stroke occurs though, everything seems as it should be. At least for them. For you though, there is a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. It is only reinforced when you hear a living scream coming from two doors down from your establishment.
Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park): Three rings, they were set for another performance come the evening but that morning the tent city lay quiet. Quieter than normal. The smells and sounds that usually filled the senses even when there were none to pay and watch were still evident, yet not this morning. A heavy fog rolled in over the tent city and sprawled out over the north of London. Odd that it did not seem to touch London proper but one could not tell this morning. Slumber to later hours was common in the circus for the performances and nights ran very late. It was none too surprising that all remained in their tents until the distance chimes of the bells from London rang out at ten that morning. Everything was normal, save one thing... Sister Sophia was rushing from tent to tent, frantic... She could not find the Grand Duchess.
The London Docks: The docks, it didn't matter the hour of the day they are always busy but over the course of night to day break, they have laid quiet. People still moving this way and that as they unload and reload the ships anchored there but there was a general feeling of silence that was deafening. Bodies that were normally being cleared out by the local constables in the morning because of business deals gone wrong in the shadowy areas... well there were none this morning. This could be thought of as a good thing but then again, when something that drastic changes over night it leaves a foreboding feeling in the pit of ones stomach. Yet at the stroke of ten, life seemed to breath its way back into the docks, or perhaps it was death. Suddenly what ever bodies had not been found or thought to be there were discovered in droves. Over a dozen but not spread out as per usual. Twelve bodies, systematically laid out, in the oddest of patterns. They seemed to dot a location but the way they were positioned made them point from one body to the next, like some demented connect the dots. All of them except for 4, which were piled on top of each other.
Wyndham Manor: Dawn came and Emma slept still. The house was quiet and even cook did not venture out of her room until the clock stuck ten. Yet as soon as it did the house was alive. Abigail rushing to try to catch up with chores that should have been done hours ago and Cook rushing to fix a breakfast before Emma decided to call for her meal. The only good thing about Miss Emma was that she tended to sleep late, very late. Especially if her mother was not present to wake her. Abigail looked worried as she exited Millicent's room. It looked unslept in, yet that was not entirely uncommon. Millicent had a tendency to make her own bed some mornings and sneak out to the stables for a bit of alone time before the day started. Maybe she was out there or in the garden? After everything that had happened the night before, Abigail could not blame her if she had sought refuge outside of the home. Yet as Abigail walked the garden, she found no signs of Miss Milli.
St. Etheldreda's: A cloister of nuns not rising at the break of dawn or even before it to begin the day? Was this the first seal to break in the upcoming apocalypse? No. They rose, and they did exit their rooms but they said not a word, and words spoken to them seemed to fall on deaf ears. they mulled about doing their normal duties and their prayers but as if under a spell or a fog. Yet there was no proper fog in the city itself, just the one sitting heavily to the north. Then just as odd as it was to start the day, as the bell tolled, the area came alive and those within the wall went about their daily ways as if nothing had happened. The young boy from the night before had left his bed it seemed like hours ago and was standing in the strawberry garden, unmoving, and staring blankly as Elizaveta had the night before.
Crypt Manor: Within the home for the morose, things hardly seem off at all. James rose at his normal time, as did Alfred. They both went about their daily toils. Save for anything involving Virginia. It was as if they were living and she was gone, elsewhere. That was until the bell tolled ten. At that time there was wonder to why Virginia had not exited her room as of yet. Outside of the manor, the Crypt's caretaker for the yard seemed rather ill... Such beautiful ivy that once climbed the walls of the manor were dried and dead as if it were the middle of winter. In the center garden, everything else had wilted away as well. All but a single Globe Thistle. This was not a flower that was planted in the garden normally and it perplexed the gardener as he scratched the back of his neck. Where had it come from and why was it blooming there when everything else was dying around it. This had to be a bad omen.
Hyde Park Inn: Like with everywhere else that seemed touched by darkness as of late - the Inn is quiet, just as it is in Scotland until the stroke of ten. Not wanting to leave your room until that time. And when ten strikes, a feeling to get out of the room is flooding. As with Scotland a message is waiting, this time for Sir Fyror Kildragon from Dr. Graham.
Sir Kildragon, I shall not be able to meet at my office this day. I am currently tied up at Westminster Hospital. If you would like to still meet, please send word and I will find time in my schedule if you can come to me. Sincerely, Dr. Graham. - The message would be delivered by the inn keeper as soon as Fyror stepped into the main area of the inn.
Millicent Wyndham
Location: Carriage
Hardly any movement had come from Miss Wyndham since she entered the carriage and what movement had come from her was nothing more than gentle sway of her body as the wheels of the carriage turned. Horses pulled the carriage as she sat there, staring out blankly to a singular place across from her. There was nothing outside of the windows to draw her attention for the curtains were closed. Had they been drawn back, there was little chance that her eyes would have sought out the passing scenery. Shock still had a strong grasp on the gentry woman and the occasional reflexive blink of her dark eyes seemed to be the only sign that she was still among the living.
It had been a long night and the minutes ticked by slowly. What sleep she had gotten was blank, except for the scream as she woke. In her despair though one could not tell if it even effected her. Had it? Perhaps on some level but it showed not. Though there was none near her that would have cared if it had. Caring family was all but gone in her mind and soul considering she had lost Jane the night before; her father long gone. Her mother... Catherine, should have remained gone.
The sound of cobblestone echoed beneath the carriage as it moved down the roads. A simple neigh of a horse as its reigns were pulled back by the driver could be heard through the thick curtains. Slowly the carriage came to a halt but Millicent still did not move. Her back rail straight with her hands resting in her lap as the door swung open. A masculine hand reaching in and for a moment it looked as if it was waiting for her to reach out for aid to exit but there was no patience in this palm. Turning over it quickly snatched her hands and pulled her roughly from the carriage.
Stumbling forward, Millicent nearly fell out of the carriage but was held up right as a cruel mouth twisted into a devious smile in the sunlight as the bells tolled ten. Lord Rutherford eyed his prize sadistically but Millicent just stood there as she was straightened.
"That is a good girl," he said in a cool voice. "Just a stop before we continue," he continued as he held her close with one arm and the other gestured about them. Millicent did not know where they were but whatever confusion might be going through her mind showed not; nor did any protest leave her lips. Was it a lesson harshly learned not to cross her fiance or was it just the shock? Once could not tell and it was obvious that the Lord Rutherford did not care. She was passive now, quiet, and did whatever he directed her to.
Elizaveta Romanova
Location: The Fog
What a horrible way to awaken for the Grand Duchess. Such darkness only to be broken by the screams of a child. What could it have all meant? She did not know but something ate at the back of her mind it had to have something to do with everything else that had been occurring recently. A shallow breath left her lips as she sat up from her bed within her private tent. Myska looked over to her, nuzzling her softly out of what could be taken as concern from the large man eating mammal.
"странный," she whispered softly to herself as her feet touched the thickly carpeted ground. Dense and plush throw rugs covered the bottom of her tent and kept her delicate feet from touching the dirt and gravel below them. The hour was still early and while there was a dread feeling not to leave the city of tents, nothing held her within her own private tent. Perhaps it was because it was not a permanent structure? Perhaps there was another reason for when she pushed back the cloth of her tent door others did not seem to be venturing out into the fog that surrounded them.
Following close behind her Myska kept pace with Elizaveta as she moved like a dream through the fog. Her thoughts on the scream, on the death she had seen, on the souls from the night before. It all swam through her mind as the light folds of her skirt seemed to be caught up on the fog and moved as if in a wind about her legs and behind her.
As opposed to the night before where she was adorned in the finest gown and trimmed in silver and gold, today she wore more of what one might think a gypsy would. Silk and sheer fabric made her skirt, a simple roll of cloth bound her chest. Bare feet moved and the soft jingle of an anklet could be heard with each step she took.
Further she moved into the fog and while the tents started to become a distant memory and far from sight she was still within what was known as the bounds of the tent city. Or was she? She could not tell, it was like a dream and the hour had not yet struck ten. By the time it did she was sitting, perched on a rock with her feet dipped into dark waters. A tiger sitting by her side as the bell tolled ten.
"Где я?" 
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