Encounterlogs
Ashs Odd Encounter Sr Cara 240828
On a late night at Harper's Bazaar, Ash finds themselves unwittingly thrust into a tense situation. An intimidating figure, hooded and evidently out of place, begins a violent assault on the store staff, attempting to kidnap one of the female clerks. Ash, using their wits and supernatural talents, decides to intervene. They cast a curse of bad luck, "Mal de ojo," on the assailant, hoping to turn the tide of the encounter. Their actions subtly manipulate the environment, creating illusions of police presence with flashing lights through will o' wisps, and clever distractions. Despite their efforts, the situation escalates as the assailant takes a hostage, brandishing a knife and threatening those who would dare to intervene.
Determined not to let the assailant succeed, Ash escalates their intervention. They cleverly signal to the hostage to shield her eyes before using pepper spray on their attacker, managing to disarm him temporarily and enable the clerk's escape. Observing the effects of their intervention, Ash notes the assailant's desperate and oddly pitiful state, his actions driven by a cryptic sense of need rather than mere criminal intent. The police finally arrive, taking the sobbing, defeated assailant into custody, who pleads incomprehensibly about a pressing need and hunger compelling his actions. Ash chooses not to reveal their role in thwarting the crime, retreating into the shadows of the night, leaving behind questions about the true nature of the assailant's motives and the supernatural elements intertwined with the ordeal.
(Ash's odd encounter(SRCara):SRCara)
[Sun Aug 11 2024]
In the intimates purchase counter of Harper's Bazaar
The walls of this upscale establishment have been painted in an ecru shade so as not to detract from the merchandise. The floor is made up of pale peach marble tiles, with bits of soft gray that run through them like tiny, fracturing lightning bolts. Tall, white-washed wooden display cases with glass shelving lines each wall with evenly uniform spacing throughout, each section housing a table shelving unit in the middle. A long, white-wash painted counter sits at the back of the establishment, housing two modern cash registers complete with credit card readers. The store appears well stocked and kept remarkably clean.
Peppy and upbeat dance music constantly pipes through the stores speakers, just loud enough to hear without interrupting conversation.
A small white sign with gold lettering marks the western facing door, 'Changing Room'.
It is night, about 82F(27C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies encounter someone who's been supernaturally influenced into committing a crime for a supernatural. It is up to them to stop the crime and then maybe also try to find the true perpetrator, maybe freeing the thrall from their control in the process.
)
Ash looks through the racks, typing on their phone and looking through the panties on display here at the shop. They ignore the occasional glances they get - this is 2024, after all - and compare a curved-hem thong with a much nicer multi-strapped thong. However, the pricetag on the latter gives them pause, and they weigh the two carefully.
It is indeed the waning hours of August 11th, 2024 as Ash browses the clothing racks in Harper's Bazaar, logos and bling of all sorts trying to sell themselves to Ash from the shelves in a shock of capitalism uncaring as to the gender of the buyer. Other shoppers are few and far between at the late hour, but is one loitering about, hood up, alongside some incredibly bored looking store staff stocking shelves and paying little heed to the customers in their midst unless specifically called upon. The gentleman in the black hoodie glances too and fro, seemingly not looking at anything on the shelves, but instead paying more attention to the staff.
Ash is still focused on the underwear, putting down the expensive panties, and picking up a pair of plaid stocking instead. They don't seem to pay much attention to the other shopper, either focused on their choices, so long as he does nothing to catch their attention.
As Ash browses the intimate offerings Harper's Bazaar has, tall, dark and menacing continues to be pre-occupied with the few staff in store, hands in pockets with a tension to him as he tries to fly casual whilst simultaneously looking all the more out of place for doing it. A salt and pepper stubbled jawline can be seen peeking from beneath the low pulled hood on occasion, staff sending wary glances his way before trying to focus on their jobs as though ignoring the predator in their midst might cease it's existence. For a moment the gentleman dissappears around a corner, the slosh of something audible, then a glug, then a splash. When he re-emerges it is fast, and violent. He swings in behind the night supervisor and grabs her by the wrist. The woman shrieks as he pins her to a wall, but swiftly silences that shriek with a cloth dampened in something that smells strongly of spirits and mint. Another clerk runs in only to be swiftly punched in the face by the eerily silent man.
Now, *that* sure catches Ash's attention. They drop their shopping, growing still, so as to avoid attention. But their eyes watch him, the presumed robber, and there's the slightest glow. Though words aren't needed, they slightly mouth the words, "Mal de ojo," the Evil Eye. They curse him, their fae talents lashing out invisibly to grant him bad luck. There's likely more they can do, but they wait, first, curious to see the effects of their action.
It's hard to say for sure if the curse Ash lays upon the skeletally thin man in the hood has an affect. Perhaps this is simply how it would have panned out regardless, but the clerk who just got punched in the face grabs the mans sleeve as she falls back, reeling for balance and managing to lose the thug his balance in the process as they're both sent sprawling to the floor. The first woman he attacked falls too, eyes rolled back in her head as whatever he'd poured on the cloth pressed to her nose and mouth evidently rendered her unconscious.
Down on the floor where the clerk and hooded individual are now sprawled, a messy fight breaks out. Perhaps in her early twenties, the woman flails and kicks, a couple blows landing in what must surely be uncomfortable blows given her heels. This assailant however, presses on with barely more than a grunt of pain. He's clambering forward, pressing his weight over her and her to the ground, but his attention is solely upon her. He's oblivious to Ash behind him where they have remained inconspicious.
Ash carefully moves, slowly, to point toward the front of the store. They murmur silently, not quite casting a spell, as they summon two will o' wisps, one red, one blue. Directing them just out of sight of the assailant, and using the windows there for reflection and refraction, they manipulate the two, causing one to grow sharply, suddenly, in power and light, then shrinking it, doing the opposite with the other at the same time. Silent, but they focus carefully, having them grow more each time. Flashing red and blue lights, approaching the front of the store. They grin to themself, amuse by their own choice, and watches for the man's response.
Kicking, punching, screaming. The poor clerk is NOT paid enough for the crazies haven's night shift brings into the store. She's dishing out more than her money's worth though, headbuts and hammer punches and snarls and shouts are directed at the man alongside her cries for help. She HAS seen Ash and wide eyes beseech him for help before she looks up, relief washing over her face as the red whites and blues at the door promise help. It's only because she looks that way the man in the hood looks up, so pre-occupied was he with the carnage he's enacting. It takes a moment longer than it should for him to realise what the lights imply, blows landing on his apparently uncaring form the entire meanwhile. Then he grabs the poor girl by the throat and pulls him to his chest, a knife appearing from his pocket in the hand not pulling her to him.
"I'VE GOTTA HOSTAGE SO DUN' YA TRY NOTHIN'!" He shouts at the lights beyond the door. "YA GUNNA LEMME LEAVE WITH HER, AN' THEN MAYBE SHE LIVES! GOTTIT?!"
Ash frowns, clearly having expected that to be enough to run him off. But, no... no, of course not. A little more effort is needed, clearly. They lift their wrist, and the little mirror hanging from their charm bracelet casts some light juuuust right, to create a flicker in the corner of his eyes, away from Ash. Movement, someone trying to sneak in? Was that a gun? Does the alarm button here call fucking SWAT?
Ash distracts him, then moves forward holding up their pepper spray. They wave a hand over their eyes, from top to botton, to indicate to the woman, 'Close your eyes, look away'. They expect her to recognize what's in their hands, and gives her the time to obey as they yell, "HEY! DUMBASS!" They spray into the man's face as soon as he turns, relying on him to react naturally to the unexpected sound.
His attention on the doors and expected police presence, the rake thin man with the hoodie remains ever oblivious to Ash's presence in the store, lost in a world of seemingly dulled senses and senseless violence. He's yelling himself hoarse at the fictional police force outside, incoherent demands that drown out the screams of his victim and unfortunately for him, the sounds of Ash's approach. That is at least until a yell from Ash draws his attention just in time for him to turn into a faceful of pepper spray. This close in Ash can see his face for the first time in full now. His eyes are shot through in white as though obscured by cataracts and the neck below his gaunt jaw has scars, lots of scars. Bite scars.
someone Pallid, but posessed of the kind of force the most strung out people find in desperation, the screams as the pepperspray finds his face and flings his former hostage into a rotary display of bracelets and sunglasses. He claws at those milky eyes, howling as the chemicals do their work before flailing to land a blow on an assailant he can no longer see. The now freed woman runs for the door, phone in hand, leaving Ash on their own with the thoroughly bitten man and a passed out store clerk.
His attention on the doors and expected police presence, the rake thin man with the hoodie remains ever oblivious to Ash's presence in the store, lost in a world of seemingly dulled senses and senseless violence. He's yelling himself hoarse at the fictional police force outside, incoherent demands that drown out the screams of his victim and unfortunately for him, the sounds of Ash's approach. That is at least until a yell from Ash draws his attention just in time for him to turn into a faceful of pepper spray. This close in Ash can see his face for the first time in full now. His eyes are shot through in white as though obscured by cataracts and the neck below his gaunt jaw has scars, lots of scars. Bite scars.
Pallid, but posessed of the kind of force the most strung out people find in desperation, the screams as the pepperspray finds his face and flings his former hostage into a rotary display of bracelets and sunglasses. He claws at those milky eyes, howling as the chemicals do their work before flailing to land a blow on an assailant he can no longer see. The now freed woman runs for the door, phone in hand, leaving Ash on their own with the thoroughly bitten man and a passed out store clerk.
Ash steps back carefully, quiet again, paying half attention to the floor as they step back, not wanting to step on the things on the floor. They're eerily calm, considering, a lack of fear leaving to a complete flat affect on their face. A lack of fear, though, is not a lack of caution, nor a lack of urgency, as their thoughts race to figure out what their plan is next. They just needed to last long enough for the *real* police to arrive.
Ash suddenly has a better idea, and moves carefully over to the clerks, intending to take a hold of the man. They move over carefully, then lunges for the other victim, grabbing and *pulling* the guy into the Nightmare. Surely, a safer place, where they can wait out the attacker.
Howling turns to sobbing as the chemical irritant continues to burn the mans eyes, the results ugly as snot and tears begin to clot his beard, hood falling in his efforts to clear his eyes of the blinding substance. Still though, the man is on a mission he steadies surprisingly fast, breath heaving as he weeps and sniffles without care for dignity. Hands reach for the nearest clothes rack and he begins to feel his way back to where he remembers he left the first girl without care for self preservation it seems. Or perhaps it is as simple as out of sight, out of mind.
Ash however, being sighted unlike the man they have blinded, beats the assailant to the fallen clerk easily and pulls them into the nightmare from which they can watch what happens next. The sirens get louder, the man still feeling his way back to where the fallen clerk was. He finds them missing, and falls to his knees, the chemically induced weeping becoming grief wracked sobs. Truly ugly cries paired with screams of the word "WHYYYYYUHHHHH!?" as though questioning the indignity and unfairness of the situation he himself began. Eventually, police do arrive to find a defeated man still babbling incoherantly in harpers bazaar. They cuff him and still he sobs, trying to appeal to their better natures with pleas of "You don't understand... we NEEDED them... They... They're -so- hungry. I can't fail. We NEEDED them." The police however, are unsympathetic. He is slung into the back of a police car, the conscious clerk wrapped in a blanket by nearby officers questioning her and taking photos of her bruises for evidence later.
Ash waits until they are sure that the man is fully detained before carefully returning through the nightmare, bringing the other victim with them. They curse, huddled behind the counter, then makes a few thuds to replicate someone hurting themself. With a flash of will o' wisp light like a camera flash (disregarding the camera they have on their phone), they slip back into the nightmare, leaving the cops to find the other man. Rather than trying to get any attention for saving the day, they simple slink off into the psionic night, keeping themself as clean as they can of the ordeal. They also seem to have no pity for the assailant.
Determined not to let the assailant succeed, Ash escalates their intervention. They cleverly signal to the hostage to shield her eyes before using pepper spray on their attacker, managing to disarm him temporarily and enable the clerk's escape. Observing the effects of their intervention, Ash notes the assailant's desperate and oddly pitiful state, his actions driven by a cryptic sense of need rather than mere criminal intent. The police finally arrive, taking the sobbing, defeated assailant into custody, who pleads incomprehensibly about a pressing need and hunger compelling his actions. Ash chooses not to reveal their role in thwarting the crime, retreating into the shadows of the night, leaving behind questions about the true nature of the assailant's motives and the supernatural elements intertwined with the ordeal.
(Ash's odd encounter(SRCara):SRCara)
[Sun Aug 11 2024]
In the intimates purchase counter of Harper's Bazaar
The walls of this upscale establishment have been painted in an ecru shade so as not to detract from the merchandise. The floor is made up of pale peach marble tiles, with bits of soft gray that run through them like tiny, fracturing lightning bolts. Tall, white-washed wooden display cases with glass shelving lines each wall with evenly uniform spacing throughout, each section housing a table shelving unit in the middle. A long, white-wash painted counter sits at the back of the establishment, housing two modern cash registers complete with credit card readers. The store appears well stocked and kept remarkably clean.
Peppy and upbeat dance music constantly pipes through the stores speakers, just loud enough to hear without interrupting conversation.
A small white sign with gold lettering marks the western facing door, 'Changing Room'.
It is night, about 82F(27C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies encounter someone who's been supernaturally influenced into committing a crime for a supernatural. It is up to them to stop the crime and then maybe also try to find the true perpetrator, maybe freeing the thrall from their control in the process.
)
Ash looks through the racks, typing on their phone and looking through the panties on display here at the shop. They ignore the occasional glances they get - this is 2024, after all - and compare a curved-hem thong with a much nicer multi-strapped thong. However, the pricetag on the latter gives them pause, and they weigh the two carefully.
It is indeed the waning hours of August 11th, 2024 as Ash browses the clothing racks in Harper's Bazaar, logos and bling of all sorts trying to sell themselves to Ash from the shelves in a shock of capitalism uncaring as to the gender of the buyer. Other shoppers are few and far between at the late hour, but is one loitering about, hood up, alongside some incredibly bored looking store staff stocking shelves and paying little heed to the customers in their midst unless specifically called upon. The gentleman in the black hoodie glances too and fro, seemingly not looking at anything on the shelves, but instead paying more attention to the staff.
Ash is still focused on the underwear, putting down the expensive panties, and picking up a pair of plaid stocking instead. They don't seem to pay much attention to the other shopper, either focused on their choices, so long as he does nothing to catch their attention.
As Ash browses the intimate offerings Harper's Bazaar has, tall, dark and menacing continues to be pre-occupied with the few staff in store, hands in pockets with a tension to him as he tries to fly casual whilst simultaneously looking all the more out of place for doing it. A salt and pepper stubbled jawline can be seen peeking from beneath the low pulled hood on occasion, staff sending wary glances his way before trying to focus on their jobs as though ignoring the predator in their midst might cease it's existence. For a moment the gentleman dissappears around a corner, the slosh of something audible, then a glug, then a splash. When he re-emerges it is fast, and violent. He swings in behind the night supervisor and grabs her by the wrist. The woman shrieks as he pins her to a wall, but swiftly silences that shriek with a cloth dampened in something that smells strongly of spirits and mint. Another clerk runs in only to be swiftly punched in the face by the eerily silent man.
Now, *that* sure catches Ash's attention. They drop their shopping, growing still, so as to avoid attention. But their eyes watch him, the presumed robber, and there's the slightest glow. Though words aren't needed, they slightly mouth the words, "Mal de ojo," the Evil Eye. They curse him, their fae talents lashing out invisibly to grant him bad luck. There's likely more they can do, but they wait, first, curious to see the effects of their action.
It's hard to say for sure if the curse Ash lays upon the skeletally thin man in the hood has an affect. Perhaps this is simply how it would have panned out regardless, but the clerk who just got punched in the face grabs the mans sleeve as she falls back, reeling for balance and managing to lose the thug his balance in the process as they're both sent sprawling to the floor. The first woman he attacked falls too, eyes rolled back in her head as whatever he'd poured on the cloth pressed to her nose and mouth evidently rendered her unconscious.
Down on the floor where the clerk and hooded individual are now sprawled, a messy fight breaks out. Perhaps in her early twenties, the woman flails and kicks, a couple blows landing in what must surely be uncomfortable blows given her heels. This assailant however, presses on with barely more than a grunt of pain. He's clambering forward, pressing his weight over her and her to the ground, but his attention is solely upon her. He's oblivious to Ash behind him where they have remained inconspicious.
Ash carefully moves, slowly, to point toward the front of the store. They murmur silently, not quite casting a spell, as they summon two will o' wisps, one red, one blue. Directing them just out of sight of the assailant, and using the windows there for reflection and refraction, they manipulate the two, causing one to grow sharply, suddenly, in power and light, then shrinking it, doing the opposite with the other at the same time. Silent, but they focus carefully, having them grow more each time. Flashing red and blue lights, approaching the front of the store. They grin to themself, amuse by their own choice, and watches for the man's response.
Kicking, punching, screaming. The poor clerk is NOT paid enough for the crazies haven's night shift brings into the store. She's dishing out more than her money's worth though, headbuts and hammer punches and snarls and shouts are directed at the man alongside her cries for help. She HAS seen Ash and wide eyes beseech him for help before she looks up, relief washing over her face as the red whites and blues at the door promise help. It's only because she looks that way the man in the hood looks up, so pre-occupied was he with the carnage he's enacting. It takes a moment longer than it should for him to realise what the lights imply, blows landing on his apparently uncaring form the entire meanwhile. Then he grabs the poor girl by the throat and pulls him to his chest, a knife appearing from his pocket in the hand not pulling her to him.
"I'VE GOTTA HOSTAGE SO DUN' YA TRY NOTHIN'!" He shouts at the lights beyond the door. "YA GUNNA LEMME LEAVE WITH HER, AN' THEN MAYBE SHE LIVES! GOTTIT?!"
Ash frowns, clearly having expected that to be enough to run him off. But, no... no, of course not. A little more effort is needed, clearly. They lift their wrist, and the little mirror hanging from their charm bracelet casts some light juuuust right, to create a flicker in the corner of his eyes, away from Ash. Movement, someone trying to sneak in? Was that a gun? Does the alarm button here call fucking SWAT?
Ash distracts him, then moves forward holding up their pepper spray. They wave a hand over their eyes, from top to botton, to indicate to the woman, 'Close your eyes, look away'. They expect her to recognize what's in their hands, and gives her the time to obey as they yell, "HEY! DUMBASS!" They spray into the man's face as soon as he turns, relying on him to react naturally to the unexpected sound.
His attention on the doors and expected police presence, the rake thin man with the hoodie remains ever oblivious to Ash's presence in the store, lost in a world of seemingly dulled senses and senseless violence. He's yelling himself hoarse at the fictional police force outside, incoherent demands that drown out the screams of his victim and unfortunately for him, the sounds of Ash's approach. That is at least until a yell from Ash draws his attention just in time for him to turn into a faceful of pepper spray. This close in Ash can see his face for the first time in full now. His eyes are shot through in white as though obscured by cataracts and the neck below his gaunt jaw has scars, lots of scars. Bite scars.
someone Pallid, but posessed of the kind of force the most strung out people find in desperation, the screams as the pepperspray finds his face and flings his former hostage into a rotary display of bracelets and sunglasses. He claws at those milky eyes, howling as the chemicals do their work before flailing to land a blow on an assailant he can no longer see. The now freed woman runs for the door, phone in hand, leaving Ash on their own with the thoroughly bitten man and a passed out store clerk.
His attention on the doors and expected police presence, the rake thin man with the hoodie remains ever oblivious to Ash's presence in the store, lost in a world of seemingly dulled senses and senseless violence. He's yelling himself hoarse at the fictional police force outside, incoherent demands that drown out the screams of his victim and unfortunately for him, the sounds of Ash's approach. That is at least until a yell from Ash draws his attention just in time for him to turn into a faceful of pepper spray. This close in Ash can see his face for the first time in full now. His eyes are shot through in white as though obscured by cataracts and the neck below his gaunt jaw has scars, lots of scars. Bite scars.
Pallid, but posessed of the kind of force the most strung out people find in desperation, the screams as the pepperspray finds his face and flings his former hostage into a rotary display of bracelets and sunglasses. He claws at those milky eyes, howling as the chemicals do their work before flailing to land a blow on an assailant he can no longer see. The now freed woman runs for the door, phone in hand, leaving Ash on their own with the thoroughly bitten man and a passed out store clerk.
Ash steps back carefully, quiet again, paying half attention to the floor as they step back, not wanting to step on the things on the floor. They're eerily calm, considering, a lack of fear leaving to a complete flat affect on their face. A lack of fear, though, is not a lack of caution, nor a lack of urgency, as their thoughts race to figure out what their plan is next. They just needed to last long enough for the *real* police to arrive.
Ash suddenly has a better idea, and moves carefully over to the clerks, intending to take a hold of the man. They move over carefully, then lunges for the other victim, grabbing and *pulling* the guy into the Nightmare. Surely, a safer place, where they can wait out the attacker.
Howling turns to sobbing as the chemical irritant continues to burn the mans eyes, the results ugly as snot and tears begin to clot his beard, hood falling in his efforts to clear his eyes of the blinding substance. Still though, the man is on a mission he steadies surprisingly fast, breath heaving as he weeps and sniffles without care for dignity. Hands reach for the nearest clothes rack and he begins to feel his way back to where he remembers he left the first girl without care for self preservation it seems. Or perhaps it is as simple as out of sight, out of mind.
Ash however, being sighted unlike the man they have blinded, beats the assailant to the fallen clerk easily and pulls them into the nightmare from which they can watch what happens next. The sirens get louder, the man still feeling his way back to where the fallen clerk was. He finds them missing, and falls to his knees, the chemically induced weeping becoming grief wracked sobs. Truly ugly cries paired with screams of the word "WHYYYYYUHHHHH!?" as though questioning the indignity and unfairness of the situation he himself began. Eventually, police do arrive to find a defeated man still babbling incoherantly in harpers bazaar. They cuff him and still he sobs, trying to appeal to their better natures with pleas of "You don't understand... we NEEDED them... They... They're -so- hungry. I can't fail. We NEEDED them." The police however, are unsympathetic. He is slung into the back of a police car, the conscious clerk wrapped in a blanket by nearby officers questioning her and taking photos of her bruises for evidence later.
Ash waits until they are sure that the man is fully detained before carefully returning through the nightmare, bringing the other victim with them. They curse, huddled behind the counter, then makes a few thuds to replicate someone hurting themself. With a flash of will o' wisp light like a camera flash (disregarding the camera they have on their phone), they slip back into the nightmare, leaving the cops to find the other man. Rather than trying to get any attention for saving the day, they simple slink off into the psionic night, keeping themself as clean as they can of the ordeal. They also seem to have no pity for the assailant.