Location: BarInteracting With: Not that Moses (@Morose)
Sylvia strode into the shabby bar. Taking in the smell of wet dog and beer, the wooden floor creaking under her shoes as she looked around the place. It was strangely empty, but one or two drunken stragglers remained, watching silently and intently at the small and ancient TV that mounted the wall.
“What would you like, miss?”, the bartender called from behind a counter. Shelves liquor dazzled green in their bottles behind him as the sickly yellow light from the overhanging bulb illuminated the tall and slender bottles.
”Jameson on the Rocks,” she said flatly as she eyed the empty streets outside.
“No can do, our bottles have been flying off the shelves lately, we got Heineken though,” the tender flicked his gaze behind him, it was now obvious to Sylvia those fancy bottles were all empty. Seems like everybody in town wanted a drink before running off.
”If I wanted water, I’d order it,” a smirk broke Sylvia’s stony expression, her eyes twinkled as she chuckled at her own joke, and for a split second, she felt her spirits lift a bit. The bartender, however, wasn’t amused. He continued to stare silently as if Sylvia hadn’t spoken in the first place.
”Fine, just give me the strongest thing you got,” she breathed out with a sigh, wiping the smile off her face as the tender left to get her order with a grunt.
Sylvia couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed when she saw the condition of the bar, she hoped for a lively End of the World party, an excuse to drink till she dropped, but everyone here, all two of them (one passed out already), was as quiet and depressed as she was.
Sylvia lifted her head as she heard the door to the bar creak open, arching her neck the get a better look at whoever just came in. A glimmer of hope sparked inside her before quickly being snuffed out. Whoever this person was dirty, looking rabid and unkempt, probably a homeless person looking for a drink to warm himself up. The Mystery Hobo was oddly quick, taking quick strides towards the table, no, towards
her, snarling like a wild animal. Sylvia clutched her purse, slipping her thin fingers inside and groping around for her blade, but she was too slow.
Before Sylvia could even scream or protest, the rando had chomped down on her. Sinking his teeth into her bony shoulder before he released, possibly ripping away a chunk of her flesh too. Sylvia saw stars dance in front of her eyes as the shock of it all was enough to paralyse her. As her vision started to clear up, and the shooting pain of the bite spiked up, she finally summoned the energy to lift her head to face the attacker.
Her hardened and angry expression was wiped clean off the second she saw the gun aimed directly at her. At that moment, she felt as if time froze. Sylvia could see every scrap in the barrel of the gun, the black stains that coated the barrel as a ragged finger laid itself on the trigger. Every moment felt like ages, long, drawn out and painful ages. No one spoke, no one moved, everything was just so still. However, she heard a door shut. The bartender has most likely escaped the bar. Sylvia hoped it was to get help.
Sylvia’s fingers still squirmed around in her bag, before abruptly stopping as her smooth flesh brushed against the curved blade of her knife. Sylvia moved lower down the blade, grasping the hilt tightly as she prayed to her guide. Where was Belial Beliar in her time of need? After all she had done for her, would the spirit abandoned her now?
"Belial, help…" she whined in her head, no answer yet. Every passing second started to banish fear from Sylvia and replace it with anger. How dare such a low life pull a gun on her? How dare her spirit whom she controls not come to her aid? How dare she not fight back?
Sylvia shot an icy glare at her attacker, her fingers woven around the hilt of her blade like tightrope before she drew it out of her bag.
”Abite!” she chanted and faster than anyone could react, and mere moments before her spell was complete, Sylvia drew out her blade, slicing it through the air blindly aiming for the neck while her other hand, with its fingers splayed, attempted to push back the assailant and his gun.
Her bleeding and damaged shoulder didn’t even bother her at all as a surge of pride flowed through Sylvia when she fought back, even if she was going to die, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Location: Hut
Interacting With: Sutton Smith
Eudora stretched on her rocking chair, letting out that iconic tired old lady sigh as she settled down by her door. The sweet melody of crows was being sung outside her window as her goat friend lay by her feet. The fire crackled in her fireplace and the shrunken head finally shut up for once, letting everyone relax for once. Eudora was extremely confident in her protective barriers, she boasted that not even Gabriel himself could get passed them!
The squawking of crows grew louder outside her mist cloaked hut, before quickly being silenced with a flutter of their wings. Eudora, curious yet worried, edged closer to her door, putting her ear up against the door as she strained to hear. She heard footsteps thud closer, the crunch of leaves crisp and clear. The old witch backed off slowly, her goat bleated and her cat hissed. Their silvery eyes stared in unison at the door. The footsteps ceased for a moment. Not a sound stirred outside, for what felt like years, nothing happened. Until Eudora’s door came crashing down with an enormous bang, the splintery wood unable to sustain the physical force of that monstrous kick.
”How?” Eudora screeched angrily at the intruder, her wrinkled face furrowed in a frown. The girl replying only with a menacing grin.
”Little brat,” Eudora spat out as she advanced on the girl, taking heavy and quick steps,
”I’ll teach you a lesson, barging in a witch’s home like some spoiled-” her ramblings were cut short as the intruder dashed forward, knife raised before she slashed down across the witch’s stomach.
A yelp escaped Eudora. Her eyes were ablaze with fury as she pointed a finger at the girl, throwing both insults and cutlery at her with a flick of her finger. However, Eudora knew she wasn’t going to take her down with spoons and knives alone, Eudora looked at the goat, and somehow it understood. The fearsome black beast stood up, leveling it’s deadly horns at the girl before it rushed forward, propelled by unseen forces straight towards Sutton.
Eudora never lets anyone escape her alive, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
