Eloa’s Tuesday morning odd encounter(Roberta)

July 29, 2025

Date: 2025-07-29 06:43

(Eloa’s Tuesday morning odd encounter(Roberta):Roberta)

[Tue Jul 29 2025]

In the Den

It is morning/span>/span74F(23C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Sidney/span>/span(Your target and their allies discover a seemingly abandoned supernatural nightclub that still has all its lights on and music playing. Inside, they find the patrons frozen mid-dance, trapped in a time loop created by a heartbroken fae whose lover left them on the dance floor exactly one year ago. The characters must either help the fae move on or find another way to break the spell before they too become part of the eternal dance.)

Walking down birch, Eloa is just heading back to her horse from hunting. She’s splattered in blood and she’s cleaning her dagger as she walks towards clip clop who is calmy grazing on some grass by the road side.

“Lets go back thrift shop and meet Lykaia, Eloa coos to the horse, nuzzling it’s neck.

It’s just another perfectly average morning in New Haven, which is to say that it’s abstractly unusual in all of the wrong ways; The sun begins to rise to the east, the first rays throwing lingering shadows over the skyscrapers and intermingled antiquated buildings that manifest this itteration of the city-between.

The mist is thick, perhaps more than usual, and though Eloa has ended her bloody hunt, the tendrals of fog trail her with a malicious intent all of their own. It’s as though it needs something… wants something… or as though it seeks Eloa’s attention. It’s enough to make Clipclop uncomfortable and the rescued horse stamps a hoof, unsettled.

Lykaia and Roberta are not left unmalested by this curious haunting. Even below the thrift shop the supernatural mist claws its way through the gap beneath the door, the clawing miasma drifting, seeking, considering.

The cats ears pin back, their claws extend, and their eyes widen attentively.

There’s a soft melody playing. It’s on the edge of hearing, and though they are in completely different locations, Roberta, Lykaia and Eloa hear the same. The half-heard sounds of club music, and it seems to draw them each and all towards the epecenter.

“Oh no clipclop…” Eloa buries her face against the horses muzzle and a string of portugese curses spill from her lips. “If this is another haunting Eloa is going to… Going to…. Be angry!” Seems to be the only thing she can think of as she mounts her horse and looks around uneasily at the mists following her. “You think someone is trying to get monsters to come for music?” She grumbles to the horse.

Lykaia has a blank look under her shades when she hears music just barely. She takes a deep breathe in, rubs her hands over her face, pushing her sunglasses up for a moment before asking Roberta “Suppose we got more shit to clean out, Bob. Let’s handle this. Rarely a day that’s just a break.” She laments the later part and rises up to her feet. And then… realizes she went out in sleepwear. She facepalms, and then has her gear quickly ready from her bike today and that leads to reaching for her rifle and slinging the thing around her body first.

Roberta cants her head to one side, listening. Supernatural hearing does not help, no matter its validity, and still, what ever this is, it’s right at the edge of appreciation.

The albino pauses, mid word, where she was talking with Lykaia and her head turns. Old she might be, but cursed as she is, magic digs deeply into Roberta, and the very nature of this has caught Roberta’s attention. someone
She moves then, summoned by this aria, and stands once more from where she had just sat. There’s no answer to Lykaia, but as if in a dream, the albino begins to make her way across the room and up the stairs, all the while humming under her breath– It’s that half-heard song. An old tune, something timeless, and the hypnotic power in it is palpable.

Roberta cants her head to one side, listening. Supernatural hearing does not help, no matter its validity, and still, what ever this is, it’s right at the edge of appreciation.

She moves then, summoned by this aria, and stands once more from where she had just sat. There’s no answer to Lykaia, but as if in a dream, the albino begins to make her way across the room and up the stairs, all the while humming under her breath– It’s that half-heard song. An old tune, something timeless, and the hypnotic power in it is palpable.

Lykaia watches Roberta walk away, mid-change. Takes a few moments before then following after her. She might have become lost to her vision, but she can hear it all the same.”It’s too early for this shit.”

On clipclop, Eloa starts heading back towards the thrift store, determined that she hopefully won’t hear any haunting only for the music to get louder and louder and the horse to move towards the music. Or at least that’s what it seems!

Once Eloa mounts, Clipclop begins to move. A soft whinny is the responce to the latina’s question, because of course, a horse, no matter how smart is unable to respond.

For her part, though she doesn’t pause in that humming, Roberta nods to Lykaia. They ascend the stairs and step into the thrift shop– But it’s not….

Roberta and Lykaia step into the shop, though the mist wreathes them, and in a single blink, the umbra grows deeper… dimmer… and they find themselves lost.

Eloa and Clipclop advance towards the thrift shop, but as with Lykaia and Roberta, they too find themselves embraced in the superlative darkness that is a mist too thick to be anything other than a manifestation too powerful for even Haven.

Here, deep within the deep mists, it almost appears oppresive. It’s thick, and for those who breathe, it’s moist, as though it were the first days of spring, and the first droplets of rain due were settled upon the leaves.

The mist’s colors change, a psychodelic strobing that suggests more within those lingering shadows, though save for the reunited team of Lykaia, Eloa and Roberta, there is truly, nothing else…. Nothing that is save that melody. Roberta stops in her humming, but the sound continues, and the song falls into full relief. It can be heard now, and it’s not what any of the women expected. It’s distorted, as though under water, but it’s now obvious. The song is a club remix of Ed Sheeran’s perfect– A lesser known song from an english singer-song writer, the thundering base vibrating through Lykaia, Eloa, Roberta and Clipclop.

“Well …” Eloa slows down massively as the fog gets thicker. “At least you don’t crash in fog.” She tells clipclop as they slow to a walk, letting the horse use it’s horsie sens to see if there’s anything infront of them rather than anything Eloa can see.

Lykaia gives Eloa a look, which then follows along with a shrug. “It’s really too early for this.” She laments again. She glances around, blinks under her sunglasses and tries to recall what she may know about similar things, rumors, historical lore that may relate to this.

“Lykaia!” Eloa seems to hear the other woman’s voice in the mist and waves around as a woman on a horse.

Eloa also tries to recall something about this as she rides closer to Lykaia, only then spotting Roberta in the mists.

This time, Clipclop’s responce is a snort, nostrels flaring in a horsey sneeze, and that breaks what ever spell has captured Eloa, Roberta and Lykaia.

The mist billows away from the three, and they find themselves– along with Eloa’s horse in a night club.
someone girating forms throng the dance floor, the frenetic lighting flashes, colors shifting, changing, fluttering, and that song concludes, the performer’s recorded voice trailing off into the last notes of the instrumental.

A tick, as though the dolores tolling of a bell striking midnight, and the scene changes.

The same club spreads out, but the pose of the club-goers have shifted. Throngs of teens advance to the dance floor as Ed Sheeran’s song starts a new, the lights flashing, and this time, Roberta, Lykaia and Eloa see the full scene playing out.

Of particular note, the three spot a man with blue hair holding the hand of a redhead in a gorgeous looking minidress. But what Lykaia, Eloa and Roberta notice most about this is how the man’s hair seems to have a life of its own, the colors shifting through green, purple, pink and back to blue in a way that can only be supernatural.

For her part, Roberta has noticed exactly nothing– She’s either used to this, or too busy taking in the curious ambiance, but Lykaia and Eloa are able to recall that things like this are common place, especially in Aurora Heights, where the material of the city-between blurrs into the Other.

It’s a time loop, and as Eloa, Roberta and Lykaia look on, the song plays itself out a second time. The song draws closer to its end, and the woman slaps the man. She steps back, spits at his feet and withdraws, chin high as she flounces off, only for that slap to echo, the moment of impact resounding like glass shattering, and the scene begins again.

Now they see him however, Lykaia Eloa and Roberta see that he’s not moved. He stands there, his hair shifting through those unnatural colors as he raises a hand to his slapped cheek.

This time, Clipclop’s responce is a snort, nostrels flaring in a horsey sneeze, and that breaks what ever spell has captured Eloa, Roberta and Lykaia.

The mist billows away from the three, and they find themselves– along with Eloa’s horse in a night club.

Gyrating forms throng the dance floor, the frenetic lighting flashes, colors shifting, changing, fluttering, and that song concludes, the performer’s recorded voice trailing off into the last notes of the instrumental.

A tick, as though the dolores tolling of a bell striking midnight, and the scene changes.

Now they see him however, Lykaia Eloa and Roberta see that he’s not moved. He stands there, his hair shifting through those unnatural colors as he raises a hand to his slapped cheek.

“There is strange sense of dejavu…” Eloa comments to Lykaia and Roberta. “Also…. why is clipclop here in night club with us..” Eloa dismounts but keeps a firm grip on clipclop’s reins. “What is going on?” She asks confusedly.

“Believe it is a time loop, Eloa. Keep an eye on a clock.” Lykaia says, as they go through it a second time, but now clearer. “One of these distortions of reality. Keep an eye out, we got to figure out what to do to fix it.”

“Drop neutralizer grenade.” Eloa informs Lykaia which seems to be her first thought to problems now.

“I don’t know.” Roberta shrugs disinterestedly. “But there’s a fae here.”

Impressive that Roberta noticed that, though she points him out to Lykaia and Eloa. “With the redhead over there.”

The scene begins again, and the man steps to one side with the shake of the head.

The club-goers resume their thronging towards the dance floor, the lights flash, shift and change, strobing the rainbow. The beat starts up, the mix falls into full swing, and again the man with the shifting hair and the redhead step on to the dance floor.

Lykaia and Eloa find no clocks here, and Lykaia’s time piece has stopped.

Curious though, when they look around, the three see that the dates on the posters lining the walls are 2024… Were they there before?

“Fae. Keep away from that.” Lykaia tells, exhaling slowly. “All of us. We do not want to interact with that if we can help it and we want to avoid its notice if we can.”

“Maybe we can slap the fae first.” Eloa comments with a shrug towards Lykaia, “See what happens when the scene changes.”

“Do that and you will find there is things your kn ight will not protect you from, Eloa…” Lykaia says, sighing.

Eloa giggles at Lykaia, flashing the other woman a grin, “Well how else do you propose we stop this time loop?”

The man and woman step out on to the dance floor again, and this time, they arn’t holding hands. The woman is snarling at the man, and he looks somewhat cowed, as if hearing something upsetting. She slaps him again, then walks off, but this time he follows. Then, it repeats itself again, but the man is gone– He’s standing beside Roberta, watching as Eloa and Lykaia talk about slapping him.

He– No, a second him– steps out with the woman again, and they begin dancing, and this time, Lykaia spots it. The man leans in to whisper to the woman, who laughs in his face. She slaps him, walks off, and he sighs, dejected.

“EEEK.” Eloa jumps as she notices the man standing next to her, “Oh you is using illusion so not get slapped 50 times?” She asked the multicolored haired man, looking him up and down a bit.

Lykaia takes a step back, exhaling slowly.

“It always happens like this.” the man standing beside Roberta utters, his voice hollow, defeated, and sounding as though for him, the world has been reduced to ash as he watches on. “Time and time and time and time again.” He sighs. Producing an apple from thin air, he feeds Clipclop as he goes on. “And I watch to see what I did wrong. I loved her– I still love her.” he admits flatly, and his hair grows longer, then droops dramatically to emphasise the point. He is the very picture of post-breakup glumness.

Still, for Eloa’s question he manages a warn smile, though it doesn’t meet his verdant eyes. “There’s no illusion.” he sighs out, watching the scene play out again, this time on fast forward. “I’d rather you didn’t slap me though.”

In all likelyhood he could move faster than any slap could reach him, and stil, Lykaia and Roberta step back. Fae are dangerous.

“I thought it could work, but when I told her my true desire, she slaps me every time, then leaves.”

The scene returns to start and things begin to move again. This time however, the view changes, and the man, Roberta, Lykaia and Eloa find themselves standing closer. This time, Eloa and Roberta see it. The woman’s smirk as the man leans in to whisper to her, and she spits in his face, turns on her heel and leaves.

“Eloa won’t slap you.” Eloa lifts her hands up towards the man as if she means peace. “You might just need to frame your true desires in a better light to her. What is your true desire? Eloa help you wordsmith.” The woman with a very thick accent and terrible english tells the man.

“Oh.” Something makes Eloa frown a little as she leans into the scene closer now but she waits for the man’s answer.

The man sighs again. “I just want to know why she does it. I love her. I told her that.”

His gaze sweeps over, only to wince as though the slap on his duplicate’s face struck him equally as hard.

“I believe the madam would need a lesson, your brightness.” Lykaia says, her tone cold and noticeably cautious. “Perhaps you could delight her to explain her what it was you desired?”

“Um… Well… it feels like she wants you to confess your love…. so she can go home….. So… with women like her you need to never confess your love. They like the chase. Then when they get you they do that.” Eloa gestures to the woman, “Tell her… Nice try but you don’t love her yet. See how she responds.”

The man smiles wanly at Lykaia. “I told her of my love and this…” This time, the scene repeats itself, flashing right until the point of that slap, where it freezes. The woman snarls, fanged teeth bared, and on closer inspection of her aura, she has invited darkness so deeply into her soul that her aura burns with malicious intent, her eyes burning, her head horned, and smoke drifting from her body as though she burned from within– This man though… He isn’t wearing a aura charm.

“She is… demon.” With her illusions, Eloa lets the fae see what she can see with the woman’s aura. The malicious intent and horns.

“Okay. You and she fucked and she took in the darkness to a point that even you speaking to her would fill her with tremendous bliss.” Lykaia says, her breathing shallow. “Guess she didn’t like that. Or previously unaware?”

He rubs his chin thoughtfully. Smiling, he nods to Eloa, and he vanishes.

The advice may not be the greatest, but this time when it reaches the part where he leans in to whisper, the woman looks shocked. Her form changes, and where she stood an inferno of roiling anger pours out– A true demon.

“I invited you in.” he calmly utters. “I loved you, and you were this the whole time…”

There’s no anger, at least not from him. A casual gesture, the wave of a hand, and the woman turned demon is gone. He doesn’t even look back. The events play on, but this time, as he turns to leave, it fades, leaving Eloa, Roberta and Lykaia back where they were.

What ever the outcome, this ends, the loop broken.

Lykaia swallows. “We are lucky.”

“Thank good god.” Eloa brings her cross up and kisses it. “Going to go to sleep soon. This is enough day for me.” She calls out to Lykaia and Roberta.

Eloa prays the mists haven’t filled where she is and steps down.

“We are.” Roberta agrees. “That was awsome. I should see if that guy does shows.”