Encounterlogs
Alexanders Odd Encounter Sr Simon 240320
In a dramatic tale of mind versus illusion, Alexander finds himself ensnared in a devious trap set by a dream stalker, aiming to feast upon his life energies. In an unsuspecting moment of fatigue, he falls victim to an enchantment, plunging him into a dream world crafted from his deepest desires and affections. The stalker, taking the guise of Lilah, entices Alexander with a life of bliss and love, tempting him with a future they could have together. Despite the allure of such fantasies, a gnawing sense of discord battles within Alexander, leading him to question the too-perfect reality woven around him. His intuition eventually prevails, allowing him to see through the facade and reject the temptress' proposition, though not without cost. His painful decision to reject the dream and embrace a harder reality marks a profound moment of self-awareness and acceptance of his own struggles over false perfection.
In a parallel encounter, Anthony grapples with his own spectral confrontation, though of a markedly different nature. After acquiring a book believed to help with his haunting experiences, he is led by curiosity and the promise of understanding into the company of Mary, a seemingly innocent aficionado of the occult. As their conversation deepens, Anthony reveals his own harrowing encounter with a ghostly presence, only to find himself ensnared by Mary, who reveals her true nature as a vampire. Trapped in her mesmerizing gaze, Anthony is powerless to resist as she feeds upon him, leaving him to drift back to reality with vague memories of the encounter. His experience underscores the hidden dangers that lurk beneath the surface of Haven, where the supernatural brushes against the ordinary, and trust can sometimes lead into the jaws of darkness.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRSimon):SRSimon)
[Tue Mar 19 2024]
In hospital room 3
This room is sparsely furnished, the sanitary white walls a perfect match
to the linoleum floor and the thin hospital sheets on the gurney that serves
as a bed. A small television mounted in the upper corner of the room is set
at a low volume, and a thin curtain bisects the room in an effort to afford
privacy to the occupant on the other side.
It is afternoon, about 33F(0C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
There may be a trend that might be noted by those who often read or study the society reports produced in Haven. That being that Alexander is prone to misadventure. Whether it be strange ghosts, or attempted kidnappings, sometimes it must feel like the poor fellow cannot catch a break.
Perhaps this evening might be different though. Rather than being assaulted by physical threat, he's assaulted by a wave of tiredness. His eyelids growing heavy with sleep.
Alexander is in the hospital right now, he's looking over a friend. He's stopped for a moment to get some coffee from the awful machine that works maybe half the time. He doesn't make it. Yawning tiredly, he takes a seat in the lobby. He will be able to nap for a bit outside right? They get it.
He only needs to rest his eyes for a moment, if that. That's all. Just a few blinks as he adjusts himself in the uncomfortable seating, and he'll be right as rain. Lilah will understand, of course.
This isn't a mundane sort of sleep, however, but rather the effects of an enchantment, for as soon as Alexander's eyes are closed, a fae spirit crawls into him, into his very dreams, and holds him there capture. Whether he quite realizes it or not. It's in this dream world where he is awakened, by a nurse, beaming down at him, "Alexander?" The nurse wonders, "Lilah is awake, and she's asking for you."
Alexander stretches out and immediately relaxes. What a fitful bit of fatigue, he thinks, whisked off to sleep. Then it's gone. Alexander sits up an smiles, feeling energized he tips his head politely. "Ah! Thank you," he says giving the nurse a smile, and makes his way back to her room.
The nurse beams back at Alexander, all smiles and approving glances. She flits in a little closer to him, extending a hand toward his elbow, "You're such a good man." The young woman intones with genuine awe, allowing him to walk on towards the room now without further barrier, or problem.
Lilah rests in the bed, her hair splayed out in fiery curls about her, while her features are hale and healthy, and full of colour. The sharp, alluring green of her gaze focuses in upon Alexander as he enters the room, and she beams a smile that brightens the room toward him, "You came for me." The young woman coos, weirdly sultry, and innocent in equal measures.
Alexander blushes and shakes his head. "I'm sure you have all sorts of people who come in here like that," he insists. "I just want to make sure she's alright," he says. He steps inside the rom and pauses, gazing at her in shock. "You're better...!" He declares, relieved. "Oh thank god," he murmurs. "How are you feeling?" he asks walking over. His history with Lilah doesn't make her response unusual at all.
"I'm feeling so much better now that you're here." The dream mirage of Lilah assures Alexander, reaching out a hand to beckon him closer, toward her. To her. It's true. She even looks better. Hell, she even looks like she's found time to apply makeup. It's that style that men mistake for a no makeup, or little makeup look. All subtle, and blended. Her eyes practically shine as she stares at him, "I'd missed you, Alexander. I'd missed you. I think I may've made a mistake." Now she's batting those eyes, and there are tears forming in their corners.
Alexander sits on the bed and hesitates, he doesn't really even notice the makeup, at least consciously, but it makes his heart skip a beat. Worse when she tears up. He touches her arm gently. "What's wrong?" he asks suddenly. "Is this about the book...?"
"The book. Viktorin. Solomon. All of it." The tears linger in mirage Lilah's eyes as she bravely blinks to keep them back, her chest heaving and exposed flesh growing a little more flushed. Delicate fingers are raised to swipe beneath each eye, stealing some of the wetness away. "But most of all, Alexander, it's about you." She reaches over to grasp at his hand with both of hers then, guiding it up and toward her cheek, while flashing him a beaming, watery-eyed smile.
Alexander's heart begins to race, cheeks flush, eyes wide. He stares at her a moment then hesitates, pulling a bit away but not much. "We can fix it," he insists. "I'll help, I can. But...are you sure? I'm...just surprised," he insists.
The mirage doesn't let Alexander pull away. He's supposed to be drawn in. Like quicksand. Like a moth to flame. Like a fly to a flytrap. "I'm sure." She intones again, more desperately, more flushed. There's more water in her eyes, and her teeth find her bottom lip. "If there's anything I learned in Germany, Alexander, it's that I want you. Not Solomon. Not Legion. Not power. Just you."
Alexander bites his lower lip. He doesn't pull away. "I...I want that to be true, Lilah...I really do care about you. You're like a bright flame, the world is cold and you bring warmth and light, and color..." And like a flame, he's been burned. He shifts a bit, and moves to pull an arm around her. "I'm just glad you're feeling better," he insists.
The dream of Lilah sinks into Alexander's embrace, fingers seeking out his warmth in turn. "It was always you, Alexander." She insists. She opines. She claims. Lies, lies, lies. Though, they're so pretty, and sound so true in the mouth of this mirage. "Come with me, away from this place. Somewhere warm, and safe, where we can burn and yearn for one another. I will be your flame, and you, my fuel." This probably doesn't even sound like her at this point, but the adoration and desperation in those pretty misty eyes is a hard thing to resist, no doubt. She draws Alexander in closer, seeking to seal this with a kiss, and drag him further into the dream.
Alexander closes his eyes and shudders. In reality he might have recognized this immediately for what it was, but in the logic of a dream, as metaphor interplays reality, he doesn't care, can't care. He draws towards her, body rigid, tight as if something tries to pull him back. He wants to sink further, he truly does. "W...wait...?" Something strikes him a moments lifeline as he tries to lean away. "Something isn't-"
That lifeline of self-preservation causes the room about Alexander to shudder, gently, softly. Then there's a flash of movement, and memory that burns into him. He said yes. He and Lilah left Haven together, they moved out and away, to another world, another place. Somewhere untouched by the doom, and Legion and Solomon Inigo. He stands before her now, hands interlocked with her own. She's wearing a dress. White. A veil. A wedding dress. Her eyes shine as she promises, "I do", and a crowd of Alexander's friends and family watch on with expectation, for him to vow to her too. A child tugs at his leg, a child with red hair and watchful eyes. His child. Their child. Their life together.
There's quiet moments of doubt, Alexander can't shake the feeling. Perhaps he twists it up, it's a little joke he tells her, I can't believe I'm so lucky to have such a blessed life, he might say. He stands there and smiles, gazing down at his child and his heart twists, something icy grips his throat and he looks at Lilah, confused. "There's..." He looks down at her, beautiful in white, pictresque and flawless.
"You deserve this." The lie promises, perfect and pretty, and committed entirely to the man standing before her. She waits. "You deserve this." The voices of his compatriots echo in agreement, watching with anticipation. They wait. "You deserve this." Promises the child. His child. Eyes bright with life and love. The child waits. There's a building tension, as if Alexander were standing on the edge of a precipce, and only a step away from tumbling down into.. well, wedded bliss, and happily ever after, right?
"...I want this," Alexander admits. And he does. His heart aches. He knows he want's it. But hearing someone reflect back at him that he deserves it breaks him. His form trembles and he steps back. "...I don't...and it wouldn't matter even if I did," he insists. He knows what it's like, to look at reality around him, at the expectations and hopes of others for him to just accept it isn't as bad as it really is. He spent a lifetime struggling with that expectation from others, seeing what he saw, knowing what he knew all along.
"...Stop this," he tells Lilah, perfect, and beautiful, and everything he wants. Righteous, and safe, and secure and at peace. How sad it is, that his brain could never accept it. Whether in a dream or not, if he ever got what he wanted, he wouldn't accept it.
"Darling." The words slip from the mirages lips with a gentle smile, patient and radiant. "The words are, 'I do'." She reminds him, and the crowd laughs at this. They clap too, like there's a plane landing in America. Or a movie ending in America. Or a ball being hit by a bat in America. They clap like Americans. Fauxlah's hand raises to cup his cheek, and she sighs softly, "You deserve me." Oh, she's a prize now. Something that can be bought, and sold, and earned. Property. Just for Alexander and him alone in this fantasy. There's no more bargains, or deals, or devils.
A hum builds at the back of Alexander's skull, and his own voice says in his head, "I deserve this."
Alexander winces and squints, he holds his hand up to hers, spread his fingers over her own. His thumb strokes against bared skin and he stares into her eyes. He trembles. His eyes close as the pressure builds, a deep breath, then an exhale. "I'm sorry," he murmurs weakly. His eyes open into hers. "This isn't how it goes," he insists, struggling to speak, to insist upon this overwhelming weight of reality around him. Why would he even care? How could he possibly mind this?
The woman before Alexander stares at him for several seconds. Beautiful tears running down beautiful cheeks, to splash against a beautiful dress. There's so much beauty. She weeps for several seconds, before sighing out softly, and rolling her eyes. "Very well." The mirage of Lilah snaps, and where there had been softness, and affection, there are now sharp, guarded features and a cruel tongue. "You could've had it all, Alexander. Bliss. Relief. This woman." She gestures over herself, over her body, and tugs at the dress to really accentuate her form, "Instead? You're choosing to suffer, and to lose." She spits back at him, spiteful and mean, "You won't be loved by this creature. She'll drink you up, and leave you in the dust. Supped upon. Exhausted. Spent. And to think, you could've had it all."
"I wish I knew why I-" Alexander begins as she cries, tears pulling stubbornly down his face as his heart breaks. This is why he knows he doesn't deserve it, of course. He's such an animal as to ruin something so pure as that. All for what. Reality? Fat fucking load that's worth, really? But the figure standing before him makes his spine shiver, he shifts back, reaching for weapons, summoning power and find little at hand in this dream. He studies her form, takes in her expression, and in the face of adversity, he seems to...become at ease. He stares at her, and an ember of anger rolls into his eyes. "I don't know who or what you are, but unless you want me to devote a good chunk of my life finding out and making you regret this game...release me..." he says hotly, voice low and rolling with anger.
"Release me. Release me. I don't deserve this." The creature wearing Lilah's face mocks Alexander in a baby voice, "It's so hard to be, I never get anything good." She further taunts at him, with a roll of eyes that don't belong to her. She steps back then, and then there's a man by her side, Solomon Inigo. Another then, Viktorin. Another yet, this one faceless. Another. "Why release you? Don't you want to see your reality? What you're signing up for, darling mine?" The words are spat back to Alexander as she reaches out to grasp at the men around her, guiding them in toward her, one by one. To kiss them, to grope them. To rub her body against them in a ridiculous display of lewdness, "You don't want to see me fuck everyone else, Alexander? It's what you want, isn't it? It's what you're choosing?" Her eyes never leave him. Cruel, and green, and still as pretty as ever.
Alexander scoffs and grinds his teeth. "You think the reality of this bothers me?" He scowls, and turns away none the less. His words might be mostly true, but there's no chance he wants to either of their dongs dreamwise or not. "The torture is you convincing me there's some kind of beautiful future ahead. Nice try, I know better." He shoots back, hotly. "I've spent a lifetime of refusing to accept other peoples bullshit false realities, you think I'm going to fall for your half-baked fantasy?" For whatever reason, he thinks twisting the knife and trying to slight her talents is a good idea?
"Oh, you were falling, darling. And you will fall again." The mirage promises as she begins to tear away the clothes from the men surrounding her, "You're a moth, Alexander. You cannot help but wander into the flames. There'll be another change to have you. To drink you. To leave nothing but a husk behind, and afford you the wildest, most satisfying fantasy you've ever experienced." The scene twists and warps around Alexander, as his awareness begins to drag him back away from this deep, deep dream, and back toward reality.
Alexander doesn't have a pithy response for that, other than to say. "Yeah," bitterly, adding, "Better luck next time." He doesn't like the sincerity he feels in that response.
There's no response from the figure wearing Lilah's face, nothing more than a smile. A gorgeous smile of adoration, and want. A cruel reminder of what Alexander has left behind him. Then conscioussness comes bleeding back upon the man, as a nurse shakes him gently awake, glancing down at him.
"Alexander?" The nurse wonders of him, "Lilah is still asleep, and visiting hours are over. You aren't her emergency contact, I'm sorry. You're going to have to leave." Reality stings.
Alexander gazes vacantly, exhausted, eyes a bit sunken, tired. He nods to nurse, wordless and pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't bothering saying anything, he just...leaves.
(Your target has been selected as the next meal for a vampire.
)
Anthony Where is Anthony this fine evening!?
On this fine evening Anthony is wandering around the misty town, exploring some of the sights he hasn't seen yet. He's just stumbled into a book store and noticed that they have a few occult items in stock. He peruses the shelves and snatches up a tarot deck without a second thought.
He's had a chance to get his feet into the mess that is Haven, but how much does he really know? Has Anthony seen the shadows lurking over this sleepy town? Or is he as yet still blissfully unaware of it's true nature? An occult shop, a charming and quaint place to find oneself on a Haven evening. Idle curiosity? Or was there something he was hoping to find?
Anthony scans the shelves and notices a book on 'Vanquishing Ghosts and Demons', and recalls that just a few days prior he had sensed a cursed presence in his own kitchen. It seemed to go away, but several days later, it knocked him unconsious and dragged him to some other world, a decripit mansion, where it stalked him, and and took hold of him. He shortly awoke feeling like he had lost something, like he was more empty inside. There was no proof that he had been actually seen a ghost, and might even be willing to write it off as a freak accident if it weren't for the strange feeling that he belonged to that demon, at least in part. Later that day he wandered to the edge of town and saw some unspeakable shapes moving between the fog. There is something stirring in this town. And he doubts that they stock books like this as some kind of joke. He reaches for the book and stuffs it in his bag.
There's a moment where he recalls this past event, perhaps the distance has helped the horror blunt itself, easier when his body doesn't hold the memory of the tension, the dread, the uncertainty. Easier, perhaps to pretend it was little more than a dream. The sleeping world offers many encouragements to believe there none of it is actually real, even as event after event asserts itself, a kind of undeniable tension between the reality he grew up in, and the one he finds himself in.
A hand touches his as he reaches for the bag. "Oh," a feminine voice says, looking over at him. It's a young woman, perhaps in the local college. "Sorry!" She says sheepishly, gesturing for Anthony to take it. "I didn't realize you wanted it," she says with coy smile, a little embarassed perhaps. A flush on pale skin.
Telling himself that it was all a fabrication is almost too easy. Something about this place has a hazy, dreamlike quality to it which makes it easy to see things that aren't there. 'Right that's what it was' he thinks to himself, 'just my imagination, I hadn't been getting enough sleep. Since then I've gotten a job at the clinic, seen more of the town, and nothing has seemed too... Off...' But there is that sinking feeling of self doubt in the pit of his stomach. "Oh!" Anthony Anthony almost jumps. He was deep in his thoughts, and recalling the memory of the ghastly encounter had his face painted with a stern grief. That all flies out the window when he turns to see the young woman, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." He pauses briefly before putting it away, offering it up at least once for politenes sake, "Er, I hope you don't need it for class or something? I'm sure more stock will turn up."
The abrupt reality crash of such a normal human interaction compared to Anthony's other recent thought is jarring enough. The 'real' world asserts itself with clarity. Ghosts, and monsters? All of that stuff...it doesn't really matter. "No, I don't but, well. I hope you won't tease me, but I'm really in to all that stuff," she confesses. "I just find it cool. It might be awhile..." She humms. "Let me know if this is too forward, but, can I get your number?" She smiles. "Or I can give you mine, and you can just text me if you're done with it? I wouldn't need it very long," she notes.
Of course, Anthony can wander around sometimes for too long without seeing another face. Another real, human face. A human with a phone number even! "Oh, suure, it's 7107750, you can put me down as Anthony. Or Tony, if you're feeling up to it." He smiles with genuine excitement. "Oh gosh you don't really believe in all this stuff do you?" He's grinning nearly from ear to ear and he says this. Of course he's obsessed with the occult, mysticism, reading tarot, fortune telling. It's part of the reason why he decided to move here in the first place. He's not doing a very good job of keeping up the charade. "What do you mean you won't need it very long? You've only got one ghost to vanquish or something?"
She giggles brightly, and smiles at Anthony, she inputs his number into her phone and texts him a little smiley waving emoji. She doesn't rush off. "Oh! I mean," she shrugs. "I think it's possible right! The world is too big to be...so small? You know?" She laughs at his question. "No! I don't think so. I just wanted to read it, I read a lot, do you? I mean, read, but also....do you have any ghosts to vanquish?" she looks like she might be teasing him.
Anthony is wearing a cool smile and taking the teasing in good stride. He's been caught on to. "I think it's totally possible, not like, movie haunted house ghosts really but, you know, like lingering fragments of people, or something," His eyes go uncharacteristically wide as he rambles about his theory. "You know? It's possible, I think." He is a little caught off by the question posed to him by the girl, more than he expected, but does his best to keep the mood light and airy, "Oh! Yeah, I might have a ghost. Or it could just be a leaky faucet, haven't really figured out yet. Better read this to be safe." he says, in the same joking tone, as if he's not being serious, but he kinda is.
Anthony sees her nod in the affirmative. "Yeah like...psychic echoes and stuff?" she asks curiously, eyes locked on him happily. She raises her brows, perhaps a bit suspicious. "Are you...? Serious?" she asks. She doesn't look bothered, just, curious and a little guarded. "...Well, man I gotta see that...!" She insists.
Anthony caves, "Yeah, I can't get enough of that shit. I had a little fortune telling business back home and saw some things that I can't really explain without sounding like a madman." his smile shakes a little bit as the very serious episode comes to mind again, "Yeah, I'm a bit serious." He finally admits, "It's mad weird though. I feel like I got attacked the other afternoon." He starts to loosen up a bit after the truth comes out.
"Oh man!" She declares, and shakes her head. "That's crazy! But not like, actually crazy," she exhales. "Tell me about it? Was it like, your house or...?" she asks
Anthony explains, "Yeah it was in my apartment, I had just moved in and I thought I had sensed something. A few days later it came after me, this ghostly, pale, figure. It said... 'Shall we...?' " He does his best to imitate the raspy androgynous voice of the figure.
"...Shall we...what?" she asks, eyes wide, hanging on Anthony's every word.
Anthony raises his hands up, "I have no idea, the only thing I had on me was this saucepan, cause' I was fixin' to make some instant coffee, it transported me to this, decrepit mansion in a void someplace I tried to open the windows, but there was just nothingness outside, but for some reason the saucepan was still with me, and I was swingin' it saying, 'Stay back!'" He's getting into the storytelling, animated and waving his arm around as if he's defending himself. "And it stopped for a minute, like it was just watchin' me be a fool, and then it said, 'Shall we...?' again, and raised it's arms out towards me." His arms fall to his side, indicating that this is where things get hazier. His brow furrows hard, and his gaze drifts away from the girl, and then back, "It felt like it wanted to kill me, but also swallow me up, hold me, share something with me, it's hard to describe."
Anthony tells his tail and she listens. She leans back, arms folded along her belly, and seems absorbed in the tale. "Wow," she mutters. "...Could you?" She exhales, and steps towards him. "Could you show me...? Where?" she asks, eyes alight with curiosity.
"Yeah, I don't know if we'll be able to summon it up or anything" Anthony says nervously, "but I could show you where. It's at my sink. The whole time I could hear my leaky faucet, drip, drip, drip."
She shrugs, "That's fine, I just...ooh- What if there's a chill..." She giggles at his explanation. "WHat if it's the ghost of a plumber, mad you haven't fixed it?" She poses.
"Oh god, if that's the case then I'm totally buying the wrong book!" Anthony laughs, eyes locked cheekily on the girl. "But before I invite you over, I've got to at least know your name, and that you're not some kind of ghost trying to meet up with one of your lost buddies or something," Again, hard to tell how serious he's being here. He probably doesn't even know. He gives her arm a prod playfully, but there is also some intent to determine the girl is coporeal in theere.
"Ahah! Clever," she taps the side of her head. "One can never be too careful," she notes. "My name is Mary," she says with a giggle. "Which is a normal non ghost name," she assures him.
She jabs him in the chest in return. She's wholly corporeal.
"Not a very scary name at all," Anthony agrees teasingly. "How do you suppose we conjure this ghost?"
"Well, we gotta feel out the energy first," she insists, gesturing for Anthony to lead on. She offers her hand to take the book. "Make sure you pay!" she tells him.
Anthony seems to agree about the energies being a good starting point. Nodding with an upside-down approving smile and furrowed brow. Anthony slaps some money down on the counter for his book and deck of cards as he holds the door open for Mary. "Been bloody fuckin' cold out. Not used to it yet." he says as she joins him outside. He points north to the Elm Street Apartment Complex, "I'm just up the road, short walk."
She nods to Anthony, and together they walk up to his door. She's abuzz the whole time, chatting up about plans to snag the ghost, what they're gonna do, how cool it's gonna be to see it!
sends a warning text to his roommate about the company visiting, although she's been missing for a couple of days, and he doubts they will run into her. He thinks about some of the final words that were passed to him by the ghost, 'You are mine now' and he was completley enveloped by the figure. He's excited to see it again, to feel that sense of belinging. He yearns for it, and it makes him sick, but hopeful. "Don't eh, mind the place, I haven't had much time to put it all together nice yet." That's an understatment, it's a dump, and you can only hope that all of the junk lying around doesn't belone to Anthony. The place hasn't had one bit of repair or cleaning done yet. And there are two people living here? Shame on them. There stands an overstuffed couch and empty bookshelf, which Anthony happily places the new book on, by its lonesome. To the south there is a quiet drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet, echoing from the kitchen.
"You are mine now?" Mary shakes her head. "Gross! We should abolish this thing!" She declares to Anthony, then adds, "Er, banish. Is that it?" She's been thumbing through the book. As they step in, as it's clear nobody else is inside, the door closes, and there's a lock sound. Mary smiles at Anthony. "You are really cute," she notes almost apologetically.
"Er yeah, banish, vanquish, even." Anthony smiles nervously at the compliment, as it almost sounded like a threat, now that they're alone "Eh, thanks.. I'm fond of you too."
"Well..." she gestures towards him, and smiles, and then he relaxes, bodily. Her gaze drawing him in as she approaches. "It's because I'm quite hungry, you see..." She sighs. "The ghost thing was cool," she says, almost apologetically. "But like...you know. If a girl insists on going to your house, you might wanna be a little cautious?" She sighs and draws to him, any impulse to run, flee, or fight is subdued, his brain is going through the ringer of psychic pressure here.
Anthony fights as hard as he can to get any of his muscles to move, but can hardly manage a twitch. A familiar feeling of being drained of all will to fight back dawns on him. "What the!" His heart is beating out of his chest, but his breathing is slow and relaxed, his body betraying him at every turn. "What are you!?" He feels like a dolt. Had he really been so stupid? Fuck, maybe this is another dream, please let it be another dream.
"It's nothing personal," she says as she sighs softly, and moves to take his shoulder. Her grip is like iron, but it's gentle if he isn't fighting. She takes his cheek in her hand and smiles, fangs apparent in her wide pleasant expression. "I'm just a little dream, a little errant thought, and then gone," she moves to sink her fangs into his neck. He might have a chance, if he has any ideas, but if not...well. A gal's gotta eat.
His mind rushes from one thing to another but keeps drawing blanks. Why fight it anyways? It feels like feels great... No! He'll scream for help! He opens his mouth but can honly softly exhale, even his urge to shout is leaving him behind, he pats his pockets and draws out a knife, which tumbles out of his hands onto the floor. What was that going to do anyways? "Don't do it." He says in a calm voice, "You don't have to do it." He has resorted to begging, in a way in which he doesn't even sound convinced. Anthony reaches up to touch Mary's hand on his shoulder.
She smiles and her fangs sink into his neck. That's about the end of it. In a moment, he'll remember that he left the store alone. Went home with his new book. He'll remember the conversation with the woman. And perhaps, if he really tries. If he's the kind of man who digs at a sore on his arm until it bleeds, he'll remember her bright eyes, the way his mind twisted up for her, the feel of her body pressed to his as she drank his blood. But, either way, he's fine. A little tired, but home, maybe a quick nap'll pick him up. Nothing to it.
In a parallel encounter, Anthony grapples with his own spectral confrontation, though of a markedly different nature. After acquiring a book believed to help with his haunting experiences, he is led by curiosity and the promise of understanding into the company of Mary, a seemingly innocent aficionado of the occult. As their conversation deepens, Anthony reveals his own harrowing encounter with a ghostly presence, only to find himself ensnared by Mary, who reveals her true nature as a vampire. Trapped in her mesmerizing gaze, Anthony is powerless to resist as she feeds upon him, leaving him to drift back to reality with vague memories of the encounter. His experience underscores the hidden dangers that lurk beneath the surface of Haven, where the supernatural brushes against the ordinary, and trust can sometimes lead into the jaws of darkness.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRSimon):SRSimon)
[Tue Mar 19 2024]
In hospital room 3
This room is sparsely furnished, the sanitary white walls a perfect match
to the linoleum floor and the thin hospital sheets on the gurney that serves
as a bed. A small television mounted in the upper corner of the room is set
at a low volume, and a thin curtain bisects the room in an effort to afford
privacy to the occupant on the other side.
It is afternoon, about 33F(0C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
There may be a trend that might be noted by those who often read or study the society reports produced in Haven. That being that Alexander is prone to misadventure. Whether it be strange ghosts, or attempted kidnappings, sometimes it must feel like the poor fellow cannot catch a break.
Perhaps this evening might be different though. Rather than being assaulted by physical threat, he's assaulted by a wave of tiredness. His eyelids growing heavy with sleep.
Alexander is in the hospital right now, he's looking over a friend. He's stopped for a moment to get some coffee from the awful machine that works maybe half the time. He doesn't make it. Yawning tiredly, he takes a seat in the lobby. He will be able to nap for a bit outside right? They get it.
He only needs to rest his eyes for a moment, if that. That's all. Just a few blinks as he adjusts himself in the uncomfortable seating, and he'll be right as rain. Lilah will understand, of course.
This isn't a mundane sort of sleep, however, but rather the effects of an enchantment, for as soon as Alexander's eyes are closed, a fae spirit crawls into him, into his very dreams, and holds him there capture. Whether he quite realizes it or not. It's in this dream world where he is awakened, by a nurse, beaming down at him, "Alexander?" The nurse wonders, "Lilah is awake, and she's asking for you."
Alexander stretches out and immediately relaxes. What a fitful bit of fatigue, he thinks, whisked off to sleep. Then it's gone. Alexander sits up an smiles, feeling energized he tips his head politely. "Ah! Thank you," he says giving the nurse a smile, and makes his way back to her room.
The nurse beams back at Alexander, all smiles and approving glances. She flits in a little closer to him, extending a hand toward his elbow, "You're such a good man." The young woman intones with genuine awe, allowing him to walk on towards the room now without further barrier, or problem.
Lilah rests in the bed, her hair splayed out in fiery curls about her, while her features are hale and healthy, and full of colour. The sharp, alluring green of her gaze focuses in upon Alexander as he enters the room, and she beams a smile that brightens the room toward him, "You came for me." The young woman coos, weirdly sultry, and innocent in equal measures.
Alexander blushes and shakes his head. "I'm sure you have all sorts of people who come in here like that," he insists. "I just want to make sure she's alright," he says. He steps inside the rom and pauses, gazing at her in shock. "You're better...!" He declares, relieved. "Oh thank god," he murmurs. "How are you feeling?" he asks walking over. His history with Lilah doesn't make her response unusual at all.
"I'm feeling so much better now that you're here." The dream mirage of Lilah assures Alexander, reaching out a hand to beckon him closer, toward her. To her. It's true. She even looks better. Hell, she even looks like she's found time to apply makeup. It's that style that men mistake for a no makeup, or little makeup look. All subtle, and blended. Her eyes practically shine as she stares at him, "I'd missed you, Alexander. I'd missed you. I think I may've made a mistake." Now she's batting those eyes, and there are tears forming in their corners.
Alexander sits on the bed and hesitates, he doesn't really even notice the makeup, at least consciously, but it makes his heart skip a beat. Worse when she tears up. He touches her arm gently. "What's wrong?" he asks suddenly. "Is this about the book...?"
"The book. Viktorin. Solomon. All of it." The tears linger in mirage Lilah's eyes as she bravely blinks to keep them back, her chest heaving and exposed flesh growing a little more flushed. Delicate fingers are raised to swipe beneath each eye, stealing some of the wetness away. "But most of all, Alexander, it's about you." She reaches over to grasp at his hand with both of hers then, guiding it up and toward her cheek, while flashing him a beaming, watery-eyed smile.
Alexander's heart begins to race, cheeks flush, eyes wide. He stares at her a moment then hesitates, pulling a bit away but not much. "We can fix it," he insists. "I'll help, I can. But...are you sure? I'm...just surprised," he insists.
The mirage doesn't let Alexander pull away. He's supposed to be drawn in. Like quicksand. Like a moth to flame. Like a fly to a flytrap. "I'm sure." She intones again, more desperately, more flushed. There's more water in her eyes, and her teeth find her bottom lip. "If there's anything I learned in Germany, Alexander, it's that I want you. Not Solomon. Not Legion. Not power. Just you."
Alexander bites his lower lip. He doesn't pull away. "I...I want that to be true, Lilah...I really do care about you. You're like a bright flame, the world is cold and you bring warmth and light, and color..." And like a flame, he's been burned. He shifts a bit, and moves to pull an arm around her. "I'm just glad you're feeling better," he insists.
The dream of Lilah sinks into Alexander's embrace, fingers seeking out his warmth in turn. "It was always you, Alexander." She insists. She opines. She claims. Lies, lies, lies. Though, they're so pretty, and sound so true in the mouth of this mirage. "Come with me, away from this place. Somewhere warm, and safe, where we can burn and yearn for one another. I will be your flame, and you, my fuel." This probably doesn't even sound like her at this point, but the adoration and desperation in those pretty misty eyes is a hard thing to resist, no doubt. She draws Alexander in closer, seeking to seal this with a kiss, and drag him further into the dream.
Alexander closes his eyes and shudders. In reality he might have recognized this immediately for what it was, but in the logic of a dream, as metaphor interplays reality, he doesn't care, can't care. He draws towards her, body rigid, tight as if something tries to pull him back. He wants to sink further, he truly does. "W...wait...?" Something strikes him a moments lifeline as he tries to lean away. "Something isn't-"
That lifeline of self-preservation causes the room about Alexander to shudder, gently, softly. Then there's a flash of movement, and memory that burns into him. He said yes. He and Lilah left Haven together, they moved out and away, to another world, another place. Somewhere untouched by the doom, and Legion and Solomon Inigo. He stands before her now, hands interlocked with her own. She's wearing a dress. White. A veil. A wedding dress. Her eyes shine as she promises, "I do", and a crowd of Alexander's friends and family watch on with expectation, for him to vow to her too. A child tugs at his leg, a child with red hair and watchful eyes. His child. Their child. Their life together.
There's quiet moments of doubt, Alexander can't shake the feeling. Perhaps he twists it up, it's a little joke he tells her, I can't believe I'm so lucky to have such a blessed life, he might say. He stands there and smiles, gazing down at his child and his heart twists, something icy grips his throat and he looks at Lilah, confused. "There's..." He looks down at her, beautiful in white, pictresque and flawless.
"You deserve this." The lie promises, perfect and pretty, and committed entirely to the man standing before her. She waits. "You deserve this." The voices of his compatriots echo in agreement, watching with anticipation. They wait. "You deserve this." Promises the child. His child. Eyes bright with life and love. The child waits. There's a building tension, as if Alexander were standing on the edge of a precipce, and only a step away from tumbling down into.. well, wedded bliss, and happily ever after, right?
"...I want this," Alexander admits. And he does. His heart aches. He knows he want's it. But hearing someone reflect back at him that he deserves it breaks him. His form trembles and he steps back. "...I don't...and it wouldn't matter even if I did," he insists. He knows what it's like, to look at reality around him, at the expectations and hopes of others for him to just accept it isn't as bad as it really is. He spent a lifetime struggling with that expectation from others, seeing what he saw, knowing what he knew all along.
"...Stop this," he tells Lilah, perfect, and beautiful, and everything he wants. Righteous, and safe, and secure and at peace. How sad it is, that his brain could never accept it. Whether in a dream or not, if he ever got what he wanted, he wouldn't accept it.
"Darling." The words slip from the mirages lips with a gentle smile, patient and radiant. "The words are, 'I do'." She reminds him, and the crowd laughs at this. They clap too, like there's a plane landing in America. Or a movie ending in America. Or a ball being hit by a bat in America. They clap like Americans. Fauxlah's hand raises to cup his cheek, and she sighs softly, "You deserve me." Oh, she's a prize now. Something that can be bought, and sold, and earned. Property. Just for Alexander and him alone in this fantasy. There's no more bargains, or deals, or devils.
A hum builds at the back of Alexander's skull, and his own voice says in his head, "I deserve this."
Alexander winces and squints, he holds his hand up to hers, spread his fingers over her own. His thumb strokes against bared skin and he stares into her eyes. He trembles. His eyes close as the pressure builds, a deep breath, then an exhale. "I'm sorry," he murmurs weakly. His eyes open into hers. "This isn't how it goes," he insists, struggling to speak, to insist upon this overwhelming weight of reality around him. Why would he even care? How could he possibly mind this?
The woman before Alexander stares at him for several seconds. Beautiful tears running down beautiful cheeks, to splash against a beautiful dress. There's so much beauty. She weeps for several seconds, before sighing out softly, and rolling her eyes. "Very well." The mirage of Lilah snaps, and where there had been softness, and affection, there are now sharp, guarded features and a cruel tongue. "You could've had it all, Alexander. Bliss. Relief. This woman." She gestures over herself, over her body, and tugs at the dress to really accentuate her form, "Instead? You're choosing to suffer, and to lose." She spits back at him, spiteful and mean, "You won't be loved by this creature. She'll drink you up, and leave you in the dust. Supped upon. Exhausted. Spent. And to think, you could've had it all."
"I wish I knew why I-" Alexander begins as she cries, tears pulling stubbornly down his face as his heart breaks. This is why he knows he doesn't deserve it, of course. He's such an animal as to ruin something so pure as that. All for what. Reality? Fat fucking load that's worth, really? But the figure standing before him makes his spine shiver, he shifts back, reaching for weapons, summoning power and find little at hand in this dream. He studies her form, takes in her expression, and in the face of adversity, he seems to...become at ease. He stares at her, and an ember of anger rolls into his eyes. "I don't know who or what you are, but unless you want me to devote a good chunk of my life finding out and making you regret this game...release me..." he says hotly, voice low and rolling with anger.
"Release me. Release me. I don't deserve this." The creature wearing Lilah's face mocks Alexander in a baby voice, "It's so hard to be, I never get anything good." She further taunts at him, with a roll of eyes that don't belong to her. She steps back then, and then there's a man by her side, Solomon Inigo. Another then, Viktorin. Another yet, this one faceless. Another. "Why release you? Don't you want to see your reality? What you're signing up for, darling mine?" The words are spat back to Alexander as she reaches out to grasp at the men around her, guiding them in toward her, one by one. To kiss them, to grope them. To rub her body against them in a ridiculous display of lewdness, "You don't want to see me fuck everyone else, Alexander? It's what you want, isn't it? It's what you're choosing?" Her eyes never leave him. Cruel, and green, and still as pretty as ever.
Alexander scoffs and grinds his teeth. "You think the reality of this bothers me?" He scowls, and turns away none the less. His words might be mostly true, but there's no chance he wants to either of their dongs dreamwise or not. "The torture is you convincing me there's some kind of beautiful future ahead. Nice try, I know better." He shoots back, hotly. "I've spent a lifetime of refusing to accept other peoples bullshit false realities, you think I'm going to fall for your half-baked fantasy?" For whatever reason, he thinks twisting the knife and trying to slight her talents is a good idea?
"Oh, you were falling, darling. And you will fall again." The mirage promises as she begins to tear away the clothes from the men surrounding her, "You're a moth, Alexander. You cannot help but wander into the flames. There'll be another change to have you. To drink you. To leave nothing but a husk behind, and afford you the wildest, most satisfying fantasy you've ever experienced." The scene twists and warps around Alexander, as his awareness begins to drag him back away from this deep, deep dream, and back toward reality.
Alexander doesn't have a pithy response for that, other than to say. "Yeah," bitterly, adding, "Better luck next time." He doesn't like the sincerity he feels in that response.
There's no response from the figure wearing Lilah's face, nothing more than a smile. A gorgeous smile of adoration, and want. A cruel reminder of what Alexander has left behind him. Then conscioussness comes bleeding back upon the man, as a nurse shakes him gently awake, glancing down at him.
"Alexander?" The nurse wonders of him, "Lilah is still asleep, and visiting hours are over. You aren't her emergency contact, I'm sorry. You're going to have to leave." Reality stings.
Alexander gazes vacantly, exhausted, eyes a bit sunken, tired. He nods to nurse, wordless and pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't bothering saying anything, he just...leaves.
(Your target has been selected as the next meal for a vampire.
)
Anthony Where is Anthony this fine evening!?
On this fine evening Anthony is wandering around the misty town, exploring some of the sights he hasn't seen yet. He's just stumbled into a book store and noticed that they have a few occult items in stock. He peruses the shelves and snatches up a tarot deck without a second thought.
He's had a chance to get his feet into the mess that is Haven, but how much does he really know? Has Anthony seen the shadows lurking over this sleepy town? Or is he as yet still blissfully unaware of it's true nature? An occult shop, a charming and quaint place to find oneself on a Haven evening. Idle curiosity? Or was there something he was hoping to find?
Anthony scans the shelves and notices a book on 'Vanquishing Ghosts and Demons', and recalls that just a few days prior he had sensed a cursed presence in his own kitchen. It seemed to go away, but several days later, it knocked him unconsious and dragged him to some other world, a decripit mansion, where it stalked him, and and took hold of him. He shortly awoke feeling like he had lost something, like he was more empty inside. There was no proof that he had been actually seen a ghost, and might even be willing to write it off as a freak accident if it weren't for the strange feeling that he belonged to that demon, at least in part. Later that day he wandered to the edge of town and saw some unspeakable shapes moving between the fog. There is something stirring in this town. And he doubts that they stock books like this as some kind of joke. He reaches for the book and stuffs it in his bag.
There's a moment where he recalls this past event, perhaps the distance has helped the horror blunt itself, easier when his body doesn't hold the memory of the tension, the dread, the uncertainty. Easier, perhaps to pretend it was little more than a dream. The sleeping world offers many encouragements to believe there none of it is actually real, even as event after event asserts itself, a kind of undeniable tension between the reality he grew up in, and the one he finds himself in.
A hand touches his as he reaches for the bag. "Oh," a feminine voice says, looking over at him. It's a young woman, perhaps in the local college. "Sorry!" She says sheepishly, gesturing for Anthony to take it. "I didn't realize you wanted it," she says with coy smile, a little embarassed perhaps. A flush on pale skin.
Telling himself that it was all a fabrication is almost too easy. Something about this place has a hazy, dreamlike quality to it which makes it easy to see things that aren't there. 'Right that's what it was' he thinks to himself, 'just my imagination, I hadn't been getting enough sleep. Since then I've gotten a job at the clinic, seen more of the town, and nothing has seemed too... Off...' But there is that sinking feeling of self doubt in the pit of his stomach. "Oh!" Anthony Anthony almost jumps. He was deep in his thoughts, and recalling the memory of the ghastly encounter had his face painted with a stern grief. That all flies out the window when he turns to see the young woman, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." He pauses briefly before putting it away, offering it up at least once for politenes sake, "Er, I hope you don't need it for class or something? I'm sure more stock will turn up."
The abrupt reality crash of such a normal human interaction compared to Anthony's other recent thought is jarring enough. The 'real' world asserts itself with clarity. Ghosts, and monsters? All of that stuff...it doesn't really matter. "No, I don't but, well. I hope you won't tease me, but I'm really in to all that stuff," she confesses. "I just find it cool. It might be awhile..." She humms. "Let me know if this is too forward, but, can I get your number?" She smiles. "Or I can give you mine, and you can just text me if you're done with it? I wouldn't need it very long," she notes.
Of course, Anthony can wander around sometimes for too long without seeing another face. Another real, human face. A human with a phone number even! "Oh, suure, it's 7107750, you can put me down as Anthony. Or Tony, if you're feeling up to it." He smiles with genuine excitement. "Oh gosh you don't really believe in all this stuff do you?" He's grinning nearly from ear to ear and he says this. Of course he's obsessed with the occult, mysticism, reading tarot, fortune telling. It's part of the reason why he decided to move here in the first place. He's not doing a very good job of keeping up the charade. "What do you mean you won't need it very long? You've only got one ghost to vanquish or something?"
She giggles brightly, and smiles at Anthony, she inputs his number into her phone and texts him a little smiley waving emoji. She doesn't rush off. "Oh! I mean," she shrugs. "I think it's possible right! The world is too big to be...so small? You know?" She laughs at his question. "No! I don't think so. I just wanted to read it, I read a lot, do you? I mean, read, but also....do you have any ghosts to vanquish?" she looks like she might be teasing him.
Anthony is wearing a cool smile and taking the teasing in good stride. He's been caught on to. "I think it's totally possible, not like, movie haunted house ghosts really but, you know, like lingering fragments of people, or something," His eyes go uncharacteristically wide as he rambles about his theory. "You know? It's possible, I think." He is a little caught off by the question posed to him by the girl, more than he expected, but does his best to keep the mood light and airy, "Oh! Yeah, I might have a ghost. Or it could just be a leaky faucet, haven't really figured out yet. Better read this to be safe." he says, in the same joking tone, as if he's not being serious, but he kinda is.
Anthony sees her nod in the affirmative. "Yeah like...psychic echoes and stuff?" she asks curiously, eyes locked on him happily. She raises her brows, perhaps a bit suspicious. "Are you...? Serious?" she asks. She doesn't look bothered, just, curious and a little guarded. "...Well, man I gotta see that...!" She insists.
Anthony caves, "Yeah, I can't get enough of that shit. I had a little fortune telling business back home and saw some things that I can't really explain without sounding like a madman." his smile shakes a little bit as the very serious episode comes to mind again, "Yeah, I'm a bit serious." He finally admits, "It's mad weird though. I feel like I got attacked the other afternoon." He starts to loosen up a bit after the truth comes out.
"Oh man!" She declares, and shakes her head. "That's crazy! But not like, actually crazy," she exhales. "Tell me about it? Was it like, your house or...?" she asks
Anthony explains, "Yeah it was in my apartment, I had just moved in and I thought I had sensed something. A few days later it came after me, this ghostly, pale, figure. It said... 'Shall we...?' " He does his best to imitate the raspy androgynous voice of the figure.
"...Shall we...what?" she asks, eyes wide, hanging on Anthony's every word.
Anthony raises his hands up, "I have no idea, the only thing I had on me was this saucepan, cause' I was fixin' to make some instant coffee, it transported me to this, decrepit mansion in a void someplace I tried to open the windows, but there was just nothingness outside, but for some reason the saucepan was still with me, and I was swingin' it saying, 'Stay back!'" He's getting into the storytelling, animated and waving his arm around as if he's defending himself. "And it stopped for a minute, like it was just watchin' me be a fool, and then it said, 'Shall we...?' again, and raised it's arms out towards me." His arms fall to his side, indicating that this is where things get hazier. His brow furrows hard, and his gaze drifts away from the girl, and then back, "It felt like it wanted to kill me, but also swallow me up, hold me, share something with me, it's hard to describe."
Anthony tells his tail and she listens. She leans back, arms folded along her belly, and seems absorbed in the tale. "Wow," she mutters. "...Could you?" She exhales, and steps towards him. "Could you show me...? Where?" she asks, eyes alight with curiosity.
"Yeah, I don't know if we'll be able to summon it up or anything" Anthony says nervously, "but I could show you where. It's at my sink. The whole time I could hear my leaky faucet, drip, drip, drip."
She shrugs, "That's fine, I just...ooh- What if there's a chill..." She giggles at his explanation. "WHat if it's the ghost of a plumber, mad you haven't fixed it?" She poses.
"Oh god, if that's the case then I'm totally buying the wrong book!" Anthony laughs, eyes locked cheekily on the girl. "But before I invite you over, I've got to at least know your name, and that you're not some kind of ghost trying to meet up with one of your lost buddies or something," Again, hard to tell how serious he's being here. He probably doesn't even know. He gives her arm a prod playfully, but there is also some intent to determine the girl is coporeal in theere.
"Ahah! Clever," she taps the side of her head. "One can never be too careful," she notes. "My name is Mary," she says with a giggle. "Which is a normal non ghost name," she assures him.
She jabs him in the chest in return. She's wholly corporeal.
"Not a very scary name at all," Anthony agrees teasingly. "How do you suppose we conjure this ghost?"
"Well, we gotta feel out the energy first," she insists, gesturing for Anthony to lead on. She offers her hand to take the book. "Make sure you pay!" she tells him.
Anthony seems to agree about the energies being a good starting point. Nodding with an upside-down approving smile and furrowed brow. Anthony slaps some money down on the counter for his book and deck of cards as he holds the door open for Mary. "Been bloody fuckin' cold out. Not used to it yet." he says as she joins him outside. He points north to the Elm Street Apartment Complex, "I'm just up the road, short walk."
She nods to Anthony, and together they walk up to his door. She's abuzz the whole time, chatting up about plans to snag the ghost, what they're gonna do, how cool it's gonna be to see it!
sends a warning text to his roommate about the company visiting, although she's been missing for a couple of days, and he doubts they will run into her. He thinks about some of the final words that were passed to him by the ghost, 'You are mine now' and he was completley enveloped by the figure. He's excited to see it again, to feel that sense of belinging. He yearns for it, and it makes him sick, but hopeful. "Don't eh, mind the place, I haven't had much time to put it all together nice yet." That's an understatment, it's a dump, and you can only hope that all of the junk lying around doesn't belone to Anthony. The place hasn't had one bit of repair or cleaning done yet. And there are two people living here? Shame on them. There stands an overstuffed couch and empty bookshelf, which Anthony happily places the new book on, by its lonesome. To the south there is a quiet drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet, echoing from the kitchen.
"You are mine now?" Mary shakes her head. "Gross! We should abolish this thing!" She declares to Anthony, then adds, "Er, banish. Is that it?" She's been thumbing through the book. As they step in, as it's clear nobody else is inside, the door closes, and there's a lock sound. Mary smiles at Anthony. "You are really cute," she notes almost apologetically.
"Er yeah, banish, vanquish, even." Anthony smiles nervously at the compliment, as it almost sounded like a threat, now that they're alone "Eh, thanks.. I'm fond of you too."
"Well..." she gestures towards him, and smiles, and then he relaxes, bodily. Her gaze drawing him in as she approaches. "It's because I'm quite hungry, you see..." She sighs. "The ghost thing was cool," she says, almost apologetically. "But like...you know. If a girl insists on going to your house, you might wanna be a little cautious?" She sighs and draws to him, any impulse to run, flee, or fight is subdued, his brain is going through the ringer of psychic pressure here.
Anthony fights as hard as he can to get any of his muscles to move, but can hardly manage a twitch. A familiar feeling of being drained of all will to fight back dawns on him. "What the!" His heart is beating out of his chest, but his breathing is slow and relaxed, his body betraying him at every turn. "What are you!?" He feels like a dolt. Had he really been so stupid? Fuck, maybe this is another dream, please let it be another dream.
"It's nothing personal," she says as she sighs softly, and moves to take his shoulder. Her grip is like iron, but it's gentle if he isn't fighting. She takes his cheek in her hand and smiles, fangs apparent in her wide pleasant expression. "I'm just a little dream, a little errant thought, and then gone," she moves to sink her fangs into his neck. He might have a chance, if he has any ideas, but if not...well. A gal's gotta eat.
His mind rushes from one thing to another but keeps drawing blanks. Why fight it anyways? It feels like feels great... No! He'll scream for help! He opens his mouth but can honly softly exhale, even his urge to shout is leaving him behind, he pats his pockets and draws out a knife, which tumbles out of his hands onto the floor. What was that going to do anyways? "Don't do it." He says in a calm voice, "You don't have to do it." He has resorted to begging, in a way in which he doesn't even sound convinced. Anthony reaches up to touch Mary's hand on his shoulder.
She smiles and her fangs sink into his neck. That's about the end of it. In a moment, he'll remember that he left the store alone. Went home with his new book. He'll remember the conversation with the woman. And perhaps, if he really tries. If he's the kind of man who digs at a sore on his arm until it bleeds, he'll remember her bright eyes, the way his mind twisted up for her, the feel of her body pressed to his as she drank his blood. But, either way, he's fine. A little tired, but home, maybe a quick nap'll pick him up. Nothing to it.