@Lady Amalthea Will be posting once I finish prepping for tomorrow's lab.
Morose Member
✨Krakoan Prince✨
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7 yrs ago
My power grows exponentially each day as we come nearer to Halloween.
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@Lady Amalthea Only if I doesn't surprise you that I have a Wednesday dress in my closet~
(And sounds good! No rush ^^ )
(And sounds good! No rush ^^ )
@Witch Cat For real though! :P
@BlueSky44: The bullet hits Jake, but it hardly phases the man. He continues to head towards Zachary, albeit shuffling this time. However, tires screech, as a blue car comes roaring down the road, knocking into Jake. The man is sent flying across the road, landing with a thud on the ground. His arms and legs are still moving, but the door to the car is thrown open for Zachary. He's never seen this car before--does he go with them? Or does he remain to fight the enemy he (kinda) knows?
@BlueSky44: You're rolling well tonight! Katsumi rolls, before her knife finds something with a bit of give to it. Ever heard of a lobotomy? Yeah, like that. The knife goes straight into Sorreast's eye, heading through and into the brain. From the twisting and turning of the fight, the blade twists as well, effectively ruining the grey matter that remained. By the time Katsumi pulls the knife out, Sorreast is still. She won't be getting up this time.
@Pundii: Aloise nods, frowning a bit as she thinks. She churns the visions over and over again in her mind, before searching the room for pen and paper. The ideal situation would be, as she explains, for Liam to draw exactly what he sees. Unfortunately, all of the paper seems to have been coated in a healthy coating of dirt and grime. "This sounds like you've seen a vision of a vessel--of someone the devil is going to tempt. Do you know where we can find Doctor Chang?"
@Pundii: Darren gets ready for the pitch...He swings....HE MISSES! Oh, damn, what a throw that was too! Clarissa ducks under the pocket flawlessly, surprising for a dead woman, even. She grabs the poker, only to hiss slightly from the iron. No matter. The woman is unharmed, and with peculiar strength, she tugs the poker away from Darren, and kicks the man to the floor. However, as she moves to go in for the kill, Jade jumps on top of Clarissa, throwing all over her body weight onto the woman's skull. And while that doesn't do much, it allows her to grab the poker, and make an end to Clarrisa. "Now, tell me what the bloody plan is."
@Pundii @Lady Amalthea: You two are in the clear. Seems the more you fought, the more undead came to play. And with Belladonna's spell, they're all taken care of. The only ones left are a few miles away from the house, and they (probably) won't be coming anytime soon. Mercurial hasn't yet woken up, seems LLA wants to see the pink ribbons. However, her hands shift to mimic those of a stereotypical mummy. Charming, right?
@Lady Amalthea: For the most part, you make it to the church okay. One of the undead falls from a second story window, shards of glass hitting Amy and Hanson. The resulting injuries are mostly harmless, though Amy now has a nasty gash on her cheek. Once in the church, Hanson will be a bit quiet, before beginning to launch a lengthy explanation. His longtime boyfriend had broken up with him, and raised by white witches, he spiraled. He fell in with the wrong crowd, started doing things that they made horror movies about to scare teenagers on Halloween. He killed a man, John Moses, because he saw Hanson attempting to summon the devil. "You know, this fucking town is great for Satanists...Belladonna Crypt and her boy toy live here, too...But I don't do that shit anymore," Hanson promises, shaking his head a bit. His hands are a bit white, and he's shaking, thankfully, it's just his nerves.
@Nallore @Witch Cat: The boy still hasn't spoken a word. No matter what Sylvia does, the boy simply stares at her, unblinking. It's more than frightening, but the whispering presence nearby appears to fade away, as if drowned out by some distortion. The boy finally smiles a bit, before giggling, as a slight trace of blood trails down his chin. This is the scene that greets Sera as she enters Altsoba -- a witch, piles of bodies, and a murderous little boy.
@Witch Cat: Eudora's dreamless sleep does not remain so very long. A dream takes place, one of the Crypt family girl, Mercurial. Surrounded by light, the girl pours over a spirit board, feverishly asking questions with an intensity quite unusual for her. The image fades, only to be replaced by the headless - but very much living - Javier Crypt. And then, the dream ends, and once Eudora awakes, she'll feel the vague sensation of flames at her fingertips, only to vanish.
Nora Kingston
Location: Egyptian Museum
At the Lord Major's similar verbal dance, Nora felt herself more and more at ease. The question of her title always amused her. From a well to do family, her father would often be called Lord Kingston, and her mother, Lady Kingston. But due to his doctorate in anthropology, he often insisted upon its emphasis. And given that she was bedridden at the beginning of her childhood, most of the relatives still thought of her as the sickly creature -- Miss Kingston, as was the proper title for the small girl. She had spent a decent portion of time in the hospital, after her family had been forced to concede that they could not provide due care for her.
"If pressed, I must say Lady Kingston would be the appropriate title, Lord Major," Nora responded, her words a bit hesitant. "But Miss Kingston will suffice and has been the preferred manner of address for my person since I was but a small girl. I am sure you understand, with two sisters and my dear mother, the title Lady Kingston can become quite a perplexing affair." She bowed her head slightly, offering a gentle smile to the old British man. He seemed to be the one with a similar grasp on social etiquette, with Haakon and Josephine merely parroting Nora's own introduction.
However, she couldn't help but be taken slightly off guard as Drake kissed the back of her hand, releasing it with a wink. The slight startle came from the movement of her hand, unwillingly, causing the pain of the brand to once again present itself. It took all of the courage she could muster not to scream and pull her hand back, instead enduring Drake's compliments. He seemed to be a fine fellow, but marriage wasn't for her. And if she found him to be attractive, her family would never live down the scandal of Nora marrying anyone outside of the acceptable social class.
"It's a genuine pleasure," Nora said, yet her words were quiet. A small twinkle grew in her eye at Vera's comments. "I am certain Mr. Drake would not do anything untoward, Lady Munn. He must possess untold dignity to have come thus far, and to work with persons outside of the general social customs. It is quite admirable."
As Vera offered pen and paper, Nora politely declined, producing her own pocket journal. With her wounded hand resting on her lap as she gingerly took a seat, she readied herself to present her sketches and drawings, all recordings of the strange dreams she had been experiencing. However, her customs dictated that she should first allow the gentlemen to speak--unless, of course, she was called directly upon.
It was rather odd, of course. As much as Nora felt unfilled and empty from traditional English customs, she couldn't bare to part from them. They were her entire world.
Dorothy Pender
Location: Crash Site
Hopping off of the shuttle, Dorothy grabbed her medical kit, hurrying over to Gene at a brisk jog. However, instead of finding the girl with a broken leg, she was doing exactly what Dorothy expected. She was meditating, bleeding gash, bruises, and all. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Dorothy paused, wondering what she was supposed to do, exactly.
"Guhn kwai, Gideon. Best be gone before Patience comes back," Dorothy cautioned. "And Gene...You chai neow...You're crazy," Dorothy chuckled, wiping a tear away from her eye. After nearly losing the Captain, and Gene's behavior, the day had been a bit of a roller coaster. The sight of the Alliance box hadn't helped matters either. But at the end of it all, Dorothy was Gene's friend as well. Grabbing a sterilizing wipe out of her kit, she set to work on tending to the cut, in order to keep it from developing an infection. It wasn't all too bad, and Dorothy didn't feel the need to bandage it. For bruises, there wasn't much for her to do. She was of the "tough love" field of medicine when it came to bruises. In her days in the army, any soldier who couldn't handle a bruise had no business fighting in the war.
"Don't run off like that again, 'specially not when the Captain is hurt," Dorothy cautioned, her voice careful yet stern. "What'd we'd done if you'd gotten yourself killed for some gorrham client?" Clicking her tongue slightly, Dorothy packed up her medical kit, glancing around the crash site. Hopefully Gideon wouldn't take too much longer, and she placed her gear back inside of the shuttle.
"Don't do any jin joh bu chi chi fah joh," Dorothy added, calling out to Gideon.
Cecily Ashworth
Location: the Morgue
Cecily smiled a bit, hearing Natasha's quip about getting an intern. She knew it was the case, but she didn't want Natasha's death on her conscience. The job had already gotten to her before, landed her in two years of therapy in order to come to terms with the outcome of a certain case. Before she could reply, she heard the door slam open, and her heart practically exploded in her chest with fear. Scrambling madly for the pistol she now kept concealed, Cecily fumbled with it, hardly even having it drawn by the time she saw it was just Caesar, beer and pizza in hand. She let out a shaky sigh of relief, putting the weapon back away.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Cecily said weakly, though a bit of a grin played across her lips. "Maybe knock next time, yeah?" At his eye darting, Cecily nodded, a confirmation that Natasha could be trusted. She hadn't met the woman more than just an hour ago, but the brunette seemed harmless enough, and helpful.
"This is Dr. Brinne, she's assisting with the autopsies," Cecily explained, before biting down on her lips. She wasn't used to the family of the deceased coming into the morgue, much less helping with investigations. The bedside manner was awkward and clumsy, indicative of Cecily's own social skills. "And of course. It's largely unprecedented, but the new coroner can deal with that. Won't be my problem."
Glancing around the room, Cecily grimaced a bit, as she stared at the pizza. There had been pizza when Wallace died--it was likely the reason he had died. It killed her appetite, and the pessimist in her told her to watch out for needles in the back of her head. Rubbing her hair as if to confirm the instruments of death weren't present, she gathered up the file on Alicia, pulling out a duplicate of each form.
"This is what we know," Cecily said, going over the forms with Caesar. "And we think we know where the crime scene is. The detective assigned to the case hasn't said anything, and I haven't heard anything from the FBI agent in town," Cecily continued, glancing up from the paperwork. "If your BAC is under 0.02, then a trip to the nearest aircraft storage is in order."
Was it potentially out of line for her to allow Caesar so much free information? Yes. She herself would have been enraged at a coroner that did that, but yet, she could hardly care. "The woman who killed your daughter was Prosperine. The same woman who broke into the coroner's office and stole Danica Grave's gun."
Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway
Location: Boston Heights
Tuesday's eyes darted up, seeing the knob start to move. She held her breath, flashes of prison orange and correction officers appearing before her. Staying as still as she could be, in the tiny corner she had hidden herself away in, she couldn't help but pray it was simply one of the residents of the building. She doubted that Marc could've gone far from his partner, and the fact comforted her. The man who shared a name with a dating ap couldn't possibly be on the other side of that door.
And yet, she continued to remained tucked away, her body smaller from the weight loss that came with a druggie lifestyle. The door opened, pushing forward slowly, and Tuesday continued not to breathe, turning slightly pink. Smoking didn't tend to help with lung capacity, and far sooner than she'd care to admit, she drew a small breath. Not daring to move her head, she couldn't see the two individuals there, and she bit her lip.
It was times like these where Tuesday tended to reevaluate her life choices. She shut her eyes, remembering the first time she had used Adderall, and then the first time she tried something different, in order to stimulate her brain. Her addiction began as an attempt to feed another addiction--academic achievement. Stanford's pre-med track hadn't been easy, and the drugs had been meant to help her through it. They were supposed to give her clarity and focus.
But hiding in a corner of the Boston Heights, she realized for a brief moment how much she had wasted those years.
@Lady Amalthea Posted, thank you for very much for the extension, Lady A. ^_^ I really appreciate it.
Jack Hudson
Location: Building F
Jack nodded, his teeth showing as he grinned like the big ol' idiot he often was. The thought of doing the chicken dance seemed like a dream come true, when it came to the blood and horrors of the world that they lived in. He had a sense of foreboding, the entire reason that pushed him to the proposal. Had the alarm from earlier resulted in Tatiana's death, he couldn't have lived with himself. He couldn't have another corpse shuffling around in the world, all because he had been too terrified to take matters into his own hands.
"True, you've got a mighty fine dance to pehform," Jack agreed, yet his mind was still dizzy with the idea that they could have a real wedding. He didn't even have anyone to ask for his Best Man -- but mentally, he figured that the Russian, Bazhooli, probably wouldn't mind too much. Or perhaps the doctor, Froggy. Or even the grim faced man, Ash, who ran the group. He cleared his thoughts slightly, returning to reality. They'd have a simple ceremony, if anything.
But all that really mattered was that he got to make Tatiana happy. That they came a little bit closer to having a normal life.
"Aftah you, solovey," Jack said finally, making a sweeping gesture towards the door.
Édouard Riviere
Location: Heard County High School (Franklin)
Édouard groaned a bit, finding the blood and guts all over his face. It reminded him of a similar incident, just from that morning, when the walker had collapsed into pieces on top of him. His cheek smushed up against the table, he couldn't even move his lips to complain, without getting bits of gore inside of his mouth. Blood and gore didn't tend to belong in there--the flavor disgusted him. Artificial banana was far superior.
"Moi? Mériter?" Édouard laughed, falling to the floor from Lyon's shove. His childish plots and ploys were still dancing in his head, but the insanity that came with being a selfish prick enveloped him. Coming to his feet, he forgot the pain in his leg, no longer complaining about it -- externally or internally. He rolled his eyes at Lyon, noting the way that he failed to translate back into English. "J'ai le droit de naissance. Je n'ai pas besoin de...la violence and de la peur...Je suis un Riviere, d'accord? J'ai seule besoin de mon nom. Et si l'apocalypse n'arrivais jamais, je serai ton roi."
He chuckled a bit to himself, before kicking around some of the blood and guts on the floor. Death never terrified him. The only thing that had truly frightened him, above all else, was that he would die without being able to communicate. And with Lyon, the bastard had that fear solved for. As much as he wanted to rip Lyon to shreds and set his remains aflame, with Lyon still drawing breath in the process, Édouard couldn't help but enjoy their conversations. Ever since Félix died, le joli garçon had been incredibly lonely. Amelia had betrayed him, the bitch. Svetlana had wounded his pride.
The mischievous sparkle returned to his eye. The sea, that was what he cared about and cherished. Lyon couldn't take that from him. He couldn't take the two things that bound Édouard, represented by his tattoos: France and open waters. "Mais ça, c'est ennuyeux. Pourqoui est Lyon, le boucher des enfants, aux États-Unis? Ma sœur, Alisanne, elle m'a dit tout, les meurtres." The fictional story his eldest sister told him still struck a chord, but Édouard fond a strange comfort in it. Perhaps the stories she fed him were true, he considered, and he pondered whether or not to be more frightened of the demon in front of him.
But then again, he always loved to gamble.
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