Encounterlogs
Freyas Odd Encounter Sr Dean 240703
In the heart of Delta Delta Delta Sorority, Freya's uneventful evening takes a dramatic turn when a mysterious artifact, a link of chain with a gold and obsidian glass claw, falls into her possession. The artifact, intensely sought after by a peculiar band of mercenaries known as The Golden Shadow, is destined to catalyze a series of confrontations that could change the course of Freya's life. The mercenaries, described as a mismatched group including two formidable Norsemen and a pair of red-eyed women inadequately dressed for a mission of this nature, set their sights on the sorority house, marking the beginning of a sinister encounter. The artifact itself starts to drain Freya's strength, indicating its dangerous and possibly supernatural origins.
The situation quickly escalates when Jaqueline, Freya's companion, inadvertently amplifies the danger by attempting to bestow a protective blessing upon Freya, thereby causing an explosion that further draws the mercenaries to their location. The confrontation reaches its climax when the mercenaries make their demands known, insisting on the retrieval of their prized possession with thinly veiled threats of violence. Caught between the formidable presence of their adversaries and the artifact's insidious effects, Freya and Jaqueline face a pivotal moment. Their response to this dire situation could either lead to catastrophic consequences or herald the start of a daring resistance against the shadowy forces that seek to control the mysterious powers at play.
(Freya's odd encounter(SRDean):SRDean)
[Tue Jul 2 2024]
In the main room of Delta Delta Delta Sorority
With walls painted in the sorority's signature cerulean blue, the hallway serves as the nexus of the Charity House, bridging the domain between leisure, hospitality, and rest through gold and silver-trimmed doorways. The majestic flight of stairs leads up to the second floor bedrooms, each step framed with intricate silver patterns. A large chandelier, dripping with crystals resembling droplets of water and pearls, casts a gentle glow over the entire landing.
Adjacent to the entrance of the living room, a neat stack of cheerleading pom-poms in shades of silver, gold, and cerulean can occasionally be found, fresh from the latest practice session or White Oak Wildcats game. Occasionally, a pair of cheer sneakers, still bearing traces of field dust, might be left to the side, waiting to be picked up.
It is before dawn, about 72F(22C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target comes into possession of a mysterious artifact that The Golden Shadow is desperate to acquire. They must decide whether to sell it to the highest bidder, use it themselves or hide it where it won't be found. The group is sure to employ a variety of tactics to get their hands on it, from intimidation and threats to bribery and charm. The encounter will involve a series of confrontations and negotiations, as the characters try to stay one step ahead of the ruthless mercenaries.)
Right before dawn, and in the mid-term season no less for the summer attendees of the White Oak Institute, the campus is a bustle of activity even in this house. Outside, the grassy gardens that lead across the cobbled path cutting through them is populated by students out for a quick smoke or a break, all looking more or less frazzled trying to get ready for an exam or test or another thing, given the nature of the institute. The sun on the eastern horizon barely casts its light yet this far west into the town - and much of the lightning outside is by artificial means. Illuminating downtrodden flowers beaten by students cutting sharp corners to get to their destination faster.
It isn't much too different here, in the sorority building of the Tri-Delta's. Every light must be on in the whole place, contours of the halls accentuted by the signature color of cerulean blue. Right here, in the nexus of the Charity house serving to bridge the domain between leisure, hospitality through gold and silver trimmed doorways, the students occasionally come and go whichever way to attend one task or another. Freya is, of course, not without company, but everyone is so absorbed in their all-nighter that she isn't paid much heed at all by the casual denizens of her dormitory. Whatever she does, here, her purpose, whether she knows yet or not, is inadvertantly tied to something else greater tonight, and the machinations of Haven grinds its teeth and bares its claws in approach.
Not so far away from here, there is a band of mercenaries at work. They've been combing through the city endlessly without pause, from the decrepit alleys, the trailer parks of the southside, to the edges of the Ash street and Devilwood, near the borders of the forest in every building long devoured and claimed by the endless green. In fact, it wouldn't be surprised if quite a few people woke up tomorrow to find that their houses have been broken into and their belongings left in a disarray as if someone ransacked all they own- but curiously, nothing is stolen. While a few of the more attentive residents of Haven are already at the HSD, petitioning the officers as to why they arrived home from their night shift just before dawn to find it a mess - the Sheriff's office is left too busy because of all these cases.
Our band of mercenaries, on the other hand, a peculiar blend of mismatched people, are in a lusterous limo. Just on the fringes of the Warden's way, where it cuts through the bookstore, the pawn shop - a bar and the institute itself. Their vehicle parked on the sidewalk with them inside of its lavish expanse, the group of four - or five, really, but the last one isn't quite a participant but more of a dominant onlooker - ponder over a map laid between their much needed drinks. Beers, cocktails, the sort. Their driver is restless, but separated - and that group, of two norse looking quiet, massive fellows, and a pair of scantily clad young women with red eyes that seem more appropriately dressed to attend a rave, bicker and argue.
Their noise is cut short by the indifferent, distasted noise of the woman observing all of them, sitting with her legs cross and dominating the window-side portion of the limo with her eyes outside. Perfectly blue, ashimmer like an endless blue - staring right into the institute. "Quiet!" It's almost a hiss, her words, and it silences the lot of them near instantly. Not that the men were doing any talking, in the first place. Trepidation, fear, palpable threat - it swims in a plethora of emotions within their current location, eased only when the woman speaks once again. "It's here." And she smiles, rows upon rows of jagged fangs in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Freya, in her dormitory, surrounded by stacks of cheerleading pom-poms, uniforms and other implements that are put aside because they're unnecessary in the mid-term season, may notice something. A pull, of sorts. Something strange - caught among the field dust, the sneakers on the other end of the nexus of activity. Whether she notices the link of chain or not. If she didn't know any better, she may have thought it calls to her?
Jaqueline knocks before entering the Tri-Delt building, but when she does enter it's with a mimosa in hand, slightly wincing as she steps into the main room. "Hey, Freya? You home? Did you lock our door? I came over to make sure I got all my stuff out earlier!" She makes her way to the staircase, oblivious at the moment to the looming danger that might even overtake this very building. "And your boyfriend hurt my broke arm a little earlier! I kinda want to sue him!"
Freya at that moment had been petting the cat. Whoever said cats and dogs never got along was obviously wrong. It clearly depends on the cat. Nevermind that the person petting it wasn't a dog. Different genus and all. Her hand at the moment she noticed the strange sensation was scratching just underneath the purring cat's chin, while it tilted it's head up in feline esctascy as only a cat could. Claws flicked in and out as it knead it's pedestal and Freya looks kindof glad for a moment that the cat is not on her lap. Her head tilts as her teal eyes flick to the shoes and then over to Jaqueline as the other woman comes in, "Oh Hello again Viper. Yes I've noticed you've moved out. I suppose that makes it a bit easier... And what do you mean hurt your broken arm? Didn't you say you did that like.. weeks ago? 5? 6?" Her words are absent minded as she lets go of the purring cat to walk forward towards those sneakers. "You're so american..." Bending down, she reaches to pick them up, looking at them curiously.
Jaqueline rolls her eyes and makes a small adjustment to her slight and cast, wincing more than before. "No, when I just broke it that was me. Earlier tonight he... threw me down and I partly landed on the cast." She squints at the cat and shakes her head a little. "That cat's never liked me. You know, we probably do need to talk because earlier tonight oh my god you were out of control on some kind of power trip. Like, I get it, your job involves dealing with some people who are probably pretty pissed off, but when somebody acts like Dean does, don't ever be surprised when somebody decides to stand up to it and not let him get away with his shit. You're blinded by love, you for real can't even see what he's like, and some day, it's not even going to matter to him that you've known each other for so long, or even that you've known each other at all. He'll turn his anger on you too, and when he hurts you... I'll give you a shoulder to lean on."
When Jaqueline enters, she has to nearly fight her way through a bunch of worn and torn students filtering their way out of the main room in search of more distraction. A break, a smoke - the sort. Yet, when she's past the mass, she's free to approach Freya at her leisure. The cat she was petting, ever grateful for the attention, continues its purr for some time longer even without the woman that had given it her affection. Paws knead the floor, claws dig into it, tug at the floor-length carpet, but as soon as Freya's hands land on those sneakers, it flees- hisses past Jaqueline and dashes out through the open doors. In surprise, quite a lot of sorority sisters actually follow after it in chase with a cacaphony of sighs and "Noo"'s, cooing and calling, to little avail.
They may realize while talking that they are left completely alone, now, by a strange stroke of luck. An unnatural amount of luck, in fact - attributed to neither of them. The bustle of activity is at a stand still. Is it just them, or has the temperature risen? It's certainly a few degrees hotter in here, now, and the lights flicker a couple times. Off in the distance, heard when the doors had opened and shut, quickly muffled, sirens run across the whole town with no discernible purpose. Even the staff personnel that kept an eye around at all times seems strangely absent. At least, in their vicinity. The lights above them flicker once. None of it isn't anything substantial when encountered individually, but back to back - it is certainly foreboding.
Freya looks over those funny sneakers. Was it some scent that had her suspicious? Or was it something else? Random shoes were quite common... She turns the sneakers over and upsidedown, tapping them against the carpet for a moment before she's distracted by Jaqueline's monologue. "You said the cast had been on for 5 weeks a week ago right? It can come off now you know. Is it fibroglass or paris?" Her words are still slightly distant as she taps the sneakers again, examining them before bringing them slightly closer to her nose for a sniff - slightly closer is like at least a foot away even she really doesn't want to be assaulted by foot smell. All that stuff about her boyfriend washes off her back like water from a duck as she spares a glance up towards Jaqueline, "Thanks for being here for me just incase but. He'll never hurt me. Maybe not unless I beg real good." She laughs softly to herself, an inside joke maybe. That night she was wearing her black leather outfit. A leather corset, laced front and back with red lace and tied with bowties. Leather shorts which also carried on the corsetting effect which shows a line of skin from the top of her hips down to mid thigh. And thigh high boots which are apparently very supple given her crouch that are yet again laced from midthigh down to ankle. Flashes of her pale skin are seen between the ribbons as she examines the sneakers some more.
Jaqueline crinkles her nose a little bit and shakes her head again. "Well that's... so many kinds of mentally stimulating and half of them are just plain horrible. But still, whatever you see in him is no excuse to ignore his own shit behavior." She rubs on the back of her neck and turns from Freya to absolutely no one. "Isn't that ri-" She blinks several times and stares at all the lack of people now, when it had been sorority house packed just a bit earlier. "Whaaat the hell happened?"
While Freya taps the shoes against the ground, that small, slender link of chain hanging just outside from them falls down. It isn't obvious how it came to be, there are no hints to attribute its reason for being here - but it is a strange object that falls into Freya's grasp. Gold and obsidian glass somehow interwoven and bent together create a loop upon which a pendant hangs. It's a nail, or a claw. Possibly the latter - to them both, most definitely that. It belongs to some animal for sure, smells like it, but there is an otherworldly scent to it. Sweet, but not in an alluring way. Jaqueline may not realize, but it is the sickly sweet scent of rot. Like that of a limb, decaying day by day - something Freya would be aware of given her field of work.
The long, elongated and very lethal claw is still somehow a gleaming, interesting object - and in Freya's hands, it thrums with power. Pulses with it, but it is not magic in the sense of being unnatural. It doesn't flare off her senses in disgust, that much is clear. Jaqueline, having noted the lack of people in the vicinity, may also now realize that beyond the eerie quiet, all the lights suddenly go out. It is sudden enough that it can't possibly be the work of an electrical malfunction, but a manmade effect of someone smashing apart an electrical box outside. Some screams are muffled past the doors, and the only grace of light shining down into the room is via the windows set on the eastern side, facing the sunrise that dawns over the eastern horizon now.
The chain link with the claw is picked up and Freya frowns slightly as she looks at it. At Jaqueline's words, she too looks up - just in time for the lights to go dark. Her eyes gleam as she turns towards Jaqueline, that yellow glow of a creature who can see in the dark and she gives a low growl. "Something bad is happening. Fuck. Go upstairs and to our room. Go go. Open the window and see if there's anything to see." She gets to her feet instantly, cramming the object into her corset. For once she kindof wished she had pockets and her leather wasn't completely skin tight but.. oh well. A girl's gotta look pretty. The object with power is still crammed against her skin and she follows Jaqueline -if the woman had gone - if not she goes on her on and takes the stairs two at a time to come to a skidding stop at her room. She unlocks the doorknob with her thumbprint on the knob itself - how else can the school keep up with ever changing students - and pulls it closed after herself or the two of them. Then, she walks over to the window, standing against the wall to try and look outside to see if she can see anything in the darkness.
Jaqueline crinkles her nose a second time, discerning something in the air for sure, but not what. "Guh what is that... sour note in the air?", she asks, then gasping as all the lights go out. "Oh this is not good," she mutters, hurrying over to Freya. "Okay, um, um! I'm terribly sorry, miss Joyce, but I've got a sudden dreadful feeling, please just trust me!" She pushes her right hand forward to press her palm to Freya's sternum, partly onto the tops of the breasts too, and she quickly shouts, "Embrace the ferocity of a viper!" Her irises flicker light blue and she pulls her hand from Freya's chest, running up the stairs after the blessing, onward to room five to rush in there and right to the window.
Before either of them can go ahead, and just as Freya starts to run when she's tucked that unknown artifact unwisely into her cleveage - she'd feel the pinprick feeling of her bare skin suffuse her warmth onto the fang. It replies in turn, and seems to draw from her, viciously, disgusting, with an endlesss hunger that slowly but surely begins to sap her strength. If she isn't quick enough to take it out, that sudden, slight fatigue may expand and grow -- but she isn't given the opportunity to, not yet, and not immediately. Jaqueline has other plans, it seems - and when she brings her hand to Freya's chest, a similar blue light to her eyes sparks alive, crackles in a current through the air of untamed power.
It eats the blessing in Freya's place, molds it, twists it, and a darkly green light bursts from beneath Jaqueline's palm to erupt in an explosive force that propels the both of them across the room, to either side. The raw pressure alone pops their ears, makes it difficult to hear for a few seconds like everything is drowned underwater, and their heads swim. Jaqueline, her hand slightly charred, though relatively uninjured, would find the hems of her skirt burnt up, as a few meshes torn out of her crop top. Black soot runs up to her elbows along her forearms, and it stings. Freya on the other hand, thrown at the floor just under the window with her back landing on it, would still feel the damned thing drawing her strength, now with more vigor and hunger -- and by some miracle her top has endured the explosion, didn't explode open then and there, but it is slightly charred at the edges of the opening leading to the top of her breasts.
Should they manage to get it together enough, earn their bearing one more, they might hear their phones buzzing viciously in their pockets, before simply turning off in another electricl involvement. It is contained just to the Tri-Delta sorority house, and some thunderous footsteps right outside the door, beyond the foyer, are swiftly approaching.
Freya blinks down at Jaqueline just about to tear the artifact from her skin as she felt it's draining suck but the other woman puts her hand between and just above her breasts. "Shi-"
Freya doesn't even get to finish her swear as the explosion knocks them both backwards and she goes careening across the floor to slam into the window. Growling, her hand goes into her corset and yanks out the artifact, holding it very firmly by the chain now so that none of it touches her skin. "Fucking cunt of an artifact." She swears as she staggers to her feet. The charred edges of the corset show off more of the curves of her breast, leaving them dangerously close to spilling out of the leather as her lips twist. "You okay Viper?" She calls out softly as the pounding footsteps begin - looking around, she desperately finds another pair of way stinkier shoes and shoves the artifact within before buring it behind one of the cupboards in the foyer. That done, she looks around for something, anything to use as a weapon.
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!" Jaqueline flies all the way across to the wall on the far side of the room and slams into it hard enough to scramble her thoughts. She flops to the floor lucky to land on her right side, shuddering and twitching. She cries out again with her charred hand twitching a little extra, and she takes a minute to gather herself after that. The horrible experience has her gasping and groaning, rocking back and forth on the floor and trying to get over the jarring experience. She stays down but starts to one-armed crawl her way closer to Freya, looking all around and blinking a lot. "What? Miss Joyce? Where? What the hell just happened? Oh god what's going on?"
Unless Freya is about to use a pair of cheerleading pompoms for weaponry, there isn't much of anything in the area that could be used as an utensil for combat. The scent of charred leather is thick in the air, so is magic. The primeval sort that Jaqueline tried to infuse into the other woman. Burnt hair is mixed into it, overbearing, disgusting - and where they were before in the center of the room, there is now a shallow indent. The glass Freya was flung against is cracked, so is the wall that Jaqueline flew into. Maybe if there was more room to gather momentum around them, neither of them would be in a proper state to even talk.
Freya's quick thinking saves her, because the wolf in her is awfully quiet even for a few more seconds after she's removed the fang and stuffed it in a pair of old shoes and hid them with the rest. It returns to her quickly, but it leaves a gnawing sensation that had it been any longer, what she lost would've been gone for good. Jaqueline feels a similar pull. The very blessing she tried to exercise is now out of her grasp. She can't grant it any longer - if only for an hour. It'll return, she can feel it, the spark of divinity bright in her chest only slightly jaded, but it will take more to recover for her.
Just then, the doors slam open. The duo that enters, they clearly have never heard of locks. A pair of burly, immensely large men, near identical to one another, stare with cold, icy eyes that are weathered and worn in their silence. They effectivelly bar the exit, leaving the only route of escape the window or the upstairs - neither of which seem like wise options, but who knows, really? Fate often had strange strokes to color their lives. As it stands, neither of theise clearly scandinavian descent folk make a sound. They're garbed in militaristic, almost mercenary work outfits that are just as identical, but with the golden trim and silver embossing that denotes them of people with no small rank. Not in any military, no, but to any who would recognize it, the insignia they wear of the Golden Shadow is very proudly worn on their breasts, above their hearts.
They heft identical hammers up on their shoulders, at the same time, and wait.
Halfway to Freya, Jaqueline suddenly looks over as the sorority house door bursts open and two burly men come crashing through wielding war hammers. Her eyes widen and she freezes up, having no alternate form yet herself, and no armor to run for, nor katana, both kept far off the school grounds. She doesn't even give Freya a glance at this point, her eyes locked on the men in terror, and she starts trying to scramble backward, screaming for help at the top of her lungs. "HELP! HELP! ANYBODY! CHARITY HOUSE IS UNDER ATTACK! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP!"
"I guess the Golden shadow really is in town." Freya mutters as she reaches down to help Jaqueline to her feet, easing the other woman from where she lays on the ground, which for her strength is just... picking Jaqueline up and setting her down very gently to make sure she stays on her feet. "Maybe they're here for the...." Her teal eyes flick to the other woman but only for a second before training back onto the duo infront of her, "Do you still have it?" She hisses underneath her breath as she puts her back against the cupboard as if sitting or leaning on it for support. One hand squeezes down on the cupboard slightly, a sign of frustration as she takes in their hammers. At Jaqueline's yelling she just shrugs her eyes showing that she was way too jaded by now to think that someone else would just come along. "What do you want?" She calls out to the scandanavian thugs.
Jaqueline yelps and goes right along with Freya, holding onto her with her right arm for dear life. "It's hidden away in the other house! Oh my god they're gonna kill us!!"
No dice. Jaqueline's scream for help falls on deaf ears. More than that, it seems to instill some distaste in the men, in fact. She may sense, just faintly, some inkling of familiarity - be it the shades of their eyes, the vitality practically oozing out of their near-perfect make. No such thing for Freya, she's simply beholden to the two, trying her subterfuge which earns only silence from their aggressors. They are clerly not here to talk, and whatever their purpose may be, it stays elusive is kept silence along their stare.
Behind the two women, however, just outside the window, there is a shape. A small hummingbird flitting whichever way in a jovial attitude. IT hadn't dashed away even when the glass had cracked, even when the explosion took place. It simply stayed, hovering, watching - ever more gleeful. Past the men, two other women enter. Red eyes, raw power, militaristic posture but scant clothes that reveal a lot of skin from their short jean shorts to their sleeveless croptops that cling to their skin and leave very little to the imagination about their figures. One of them holds a laptop, typing away as she settles between the two men - the other, in her approaach, beckons more attention.
As soon as they make their presence, one of the men sink down on a single knee, and that woman, a brunette, lays the massive gun she's wielding over his shoulder to use the man as both a cover and a bipod for security while the rifle is trained on both Jaqueline and Freya. "Excuse our intrusion," The laptop-wielding one, the other demonborn, simply dripping corruption, speaks on behalf of everyone present. "We're looking for something that belongs to us, and we know its here." Her lilting tone, business-like despite her rave-appropraite attire, cuts through the conversation of the other two. "Kindly give it to use and you /may/ yet live to see your, I don't know- When does the world end?" She casts a look at the stil standing demigod at her side - who doesn't speak, returns a clueless shrug of a single shoulder, which prompts her to finish her words. "Your old age."
Jaqueline watches the two women come in, the gun being mounted upon the man's shoulder... she barely registers the other womans words until she's well into the next sentence. But unable to take her eyes off the gun, she slowly sinks to her knees, raising her right hand up by her head. "Oh my god please don't shoot us! I- we- nobody meant to steal anything!" she says in a fluster, pointing slightly at Freya. "She found a c-claw thingy on a chain i-in a pair of shoes i-if that's what you're looking for!!"
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Jodie lays in bed in her trailer at the trailer park, on top of the covers with her shoes still on like she must've collapsed into bed late last night without the energy to take them off. She reeks of alcohol and is likely sleeping off a night of heavy drinking.
Jodie is definitely snoring like a bear as well.
It's already pretty hot out for being only 10 AM - the temperature in the trailer probably even more stifling than this with a thick, almost muddy sort of feel to it. The smell of alcohol and whatever is stuck to the bottom of Jodie's shoes is also permeating quite nicely. But this doesn't seem to disturb the sleeping bear.
But, there comes a sudden drop in temperature. Like a spike of ice that sears the body of the sleeping bear-beauty only for a moment. That feeling that some describe as a person walking over their grave. And then the cold is gone - but the goosebumps left on Jodie's arms and neck probably still remain.
If this isn't enough to wake her, the sudden opening and closing of the dresser drawers might be loud enough to do so.
In the light of morning, there is a faint persona, almost as if they are a heat mirage, of a woman going through the dresser as if she's looking for one very specific item of clothing. Or... the way she's rifling through would suggest she may be looking for something.
Jodie groans in a most unlady like manner and lifts and flops an arm towards the sound of the opening and closing of the drawers, "I've got nothing to steal." she grunts out. She cracks one blurry eye open, oh the horror of the dim light piercing her hung-over skull.
Jodie turns her head without moving her body to try to make out the persona of the woman, she looks vaguely unconcerned, perhaps annoyed by someone rifling through her drawers, "Did we fuck?" she ask dully. She furrows her brow faintly then as she becomes aware she's to fully dressed to be waking up from a one night stand, she even reaches down to touch that her shorts are still on. This snaps her awake with a bit more alertness, "Huh?"
The woman appears to be dressed in a waitress's outfit, now that Jodie is a little more awake to assess. She has a little apron with pockets tied around her waist for her notepad and maybe some tips. There's even a nametag over her left breast, though this detail is still fuzzy.
At Jodie's words, the visage stops her rifling - nearly shoulder deep into one drawer as she reaches all the way to the back, patting around for whatever hidden object she is desperate for. "YOU." The word comes out of her like seething and the shimmery warm air around her takes on a more sinister aura. The light in the room seems to fade a moment, like all the air is being sucked in towards this woman whose hair is disarrayed. The bags under her eyes scream night shift. And the cold lance is sent out again to Jodie, like a jump into an ice bath that takes her breath away. "Where's my tip money?!?" She demands, her voice almost bi-tonal with deep bass-like undertones that make it eerily unnatural.
Jodie is struggling still to fight her hang-over and collect her thoughts. One could even see the occasional braincell behind her eyes bumping into another braincell, fizzling out making her eyes dull some what, metaphorically.
She sits up grunting softly when she's struck with intense cold and she tries to get a sense of the woman in the apron, "Tip for what? You don't get paid if the Jane passes out before you do your part. What kinda hoe are you?"
The face of this womanly figure isn't quite clear to Jodie now. It's almost as if it shifts features to sometimes look like one woman and then another. All of them with some small recognizable feature to the collection of brain-cells running overtime in Jodie's memory. But the expression of all of these muddled featured faces gives the clear impression of two things. Digust and distress.
"It was EVERYTHING I had!" The shifting and shimmering figure wails pitifully, the sound almost like a screech in Jodie's hungover ears. "EVERYTHING!!" The dramatics cause a couple of items to topple off a shelf - a burst of energy popping through the room like earth tremors.
"You took it from me!" This is the conclusion this spirit makes now, looking at the befuddled woman on the bed. "YOU took EVERYTHING..." The words grow more sinister in tone and the temperature drops in the trailer in a way that is no longer a sharp burst but a held aura.
Jodie scrambles out of her bed to the opposite side of it from the ghostly woman. She squints, slowly getting focus and perhaps recognition. She can't be sure and so she seeks confirmation with a hint of discomfort at not wanting to confirm her suspicions. "You..did I kill you?" she grimaces like it was an admission of guilt.
"Kill... me?" The visage replies, only now hesitating as if being asked to contemplate something rather outside the scope of its primitive ambitions.
Perhaps it does not know what it is, driven only by this sense of loss of... what? Life savings? ... Life?
The light in the room fades again, this time into a deep dark, only briefly - before returning to morning light once more. The shifting face of the figure regains its composure and glares at Jodie, stalking forward to the bedside in a painstakingly slow but very deliberate motion. "You take and you take and you take," it says still with that polyphonic voice. "Now... what should I take?"
Jodie puts her hand to her forehead in a gesture of pain, both at her hang-over that did not magically disappear and her approaching headache of being faced with her life choices in such a real way.
"Who walks home at night along a forest road on a full moon! It's stupid." the messy haired chick says, victim blaming the ghostly woman. She quickly decides this isn't the right tact and she looks geninuely remorseful as she tries to look the shifting ghostly form in the eye, "Look, I'm sorry. I don't have control of myself sometimes. Accidents happen.."
looks around the trailer then with an unsettlingly assessing sort of look. "Accidents happen," she-it repeats as if tasting the phrase. "Like... trailer explosions from leaking gas lines? Like alcohol poisoning? Like a one night stand gone terribly wrong?"
Jodie might be awake enough to get the sense that the spirit is threatening her. Starting to get ideas. The violence begetting violence.
"Sorry... sorry..." it repeats back to her then too in a mocking tone. "Sorry... SORRY... SORRY!" The words are getting louder, almost manic sounding like the spirit is clearly not in its right mind.
Jodie back steps from the ghost till she's at the end of her small trailer bedroom about to be backed into a wall. She has a tinge of fear, but she's also been raised on such things as ghost, threats and violence and so she keeps her composure. "Something's going to get me eventually, God knows I deserve it." the woman says somewhat solemn. "But it wont be you, all you can do now is rest. Accept it, it's no different than getting side swiped by a car or tripping and hitting your head." her argument appears to deflect agency from her role in the killing
The image of the woman shifts again, the face flickering through more features as it grows suddenly thoughtful, the cold air of the room holding still but now instead of a piercing rage, a heavy burden of sorrow begins to fall like an invisible heavy snow.
"Not my fault," she says then in sad though still angry tones. "Not Not Not." She shoves her hands into her waitress's belt, rummaging for her tips, for coins, for anchoring. "No rest... I need to work. I need the money... I need, need need." The repetitive words take on almost a different tone every time they are said as if to match the shifting faces.
The ire of the spirit seems to be fading to shift inwards now though - whatever Jodie is saying seems to be setting if off on a different course from that of 'destroying her' now.
Jodie bites her inner cheek, watching on edge for what the ghostly figure might do. When the woman rambles about money and tips she gets an idea to fish in her pocket for a crumpled twenty, her only twenty. She tosses it on the bed towards the ghost and says, "Here's a good tip..I'm sorry."
She knows there is no effective way to fight the ghost, especially without arcane ability. "When accidents happen..like this. The societies cover them up, pay out the families for silence and such. If you left anyone behind, they are taken care of."
The ghostly eyes flick hungrily to the twenty on the bed, the need and the greed taking over as she leans towards it almost as if she's being sucked in by this bill.
But she stops.
The words that Jodie speaks next hit the spirit like a piercing spear made of light. Those exact words, perfectly wielded like a bolt in lieu of arcane magic. A sound, like an exhale of breath fills the room almost too loudly for Jodie's still hungover ears. But luckily it is a soft noise, and over quickly.
With that sound, the spirit begins to lose its physical manisfestation, fading away from the inside to the edges - like that hole straight through its heart created by Jodie's words were a burning hole in a page of parchment.
"Taken care of..." the ghost repeats with such infinite tenderness it's almost heart-breaking - before she finally vanishes into the air and the stifling, muddy heat of the trailer rushes back in to fill the space left behind.
The situation quickly escalates when Jaqueline, Freya's companion, inadvertently amplifies the danger by attempting to bestow a protective blessing upon Freya, thereby causing an explosion that further draws the mercenaries to their location. The confrontation reaches its climax when the mercenaries make their demands known, insisting on the retrieval of their prized possession with thinly veiled threats of violence. Caught between the formidable presence of their adversaries and the artifact's insidious effects, Freya and Jaqueline face a pivotal moment. Their response to this dire situation could either lead to catastrophic consequences or herald the start of a daring resistance against the shadowy forces that seek to control the mysterious powers at play.
(Freya's odd encounter(SRDean):SRDean)
[Tue Jul 2 2024]
In the main room of Delta Delta Delta Sorority
With walls painted in the sorority's signature cerulean blue, the hallway serves as the nexus of the Charity House, bridging the domain between leisure, hospitality, and rest through gold and silver-trimmed doorways. The majestic flight of stairs leads up to the second floor bedrooms, each step framed with intricate silver patterns. A large chandelier, dripping with crystals resembling droplets of water and pearls, casts a gentle glow over the entire landing.
Adjacent to the entrance of the living room, a neat stack of cheerleading pom-poms in shades of silver, gold, and cerulean can occasionally be found, fresh from the latest practice session or White Oak Wildcats game. Occasionally, a pair of cheer sneakers, still bearing traces of field dust, might be left to the side, waiting to be picked up.
It is before dawn, about 72F(22C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target comes into possession of a mysterious artifact that The Golden Shadow is desperate to acquire. They must decide whether to sell it to the highest bidder, use it themselves or hide it where it won't be found. The group is sure to employ a variety of tactics to get their hands on it, from intimidation and threats to bribery and charm. The encounter will involve a series of confrontations and negotiations, as the characters try to stay one step ahead of the ruthless mercenaries.)
Right before dawn, and in the mid-term season no less for the summer attendees of the White Oak Institute, the campus is a bustle of activity even in this house. Outside, the grassy gardens that lead across the cobbled path cutting through them is populated by students out for a quick smoke or a break, all looking more or less frazzled trying to get ready for an exam or test or another thing, given the nature of the institute. The sun on the eastern horizon barely casts its light yet this far west into the town - and much of the lightning outside is by artificial means. Illuminating downtrodden flowers beaten by students cutting sharp corners to get to their destination faster.
It isn't much too different here, in the sorority building of the Tri-Delta's. Every light must be on in the whole place, contours of the halls accentuted by the signature color of cerulean blue. Right here, in the nexus of the Charity house serving to bridge the domain between leisure, hospitality through gold and silver trimmed doorways, the students occasionally come and go whichever way to attend one task or another. Freya is, of course, not without company, but everyone is so absorbed in their all-nighter that she isn't paid much heed at all by the casual denizens of her dormitory. Whatever she does, here, her purpose, whether she knows yet or not, is inadvertantly tied to something else greater tonight, and the machinations of Haven grinds its teeth and bares its claws in approach.
Not so far away from here, there is a band of mercenaries at work. They've been combing through the city endlessly without pause, from the decrepit alleys, the trailer parks of the southside, to the edges of the Ash street and Devilwood, near the borders of the forest in every building long devoured and claimed by the endless green. In fact, it wouldn't be surprised if quite a few people woke up tomorrow to find that their houses have been broken into and their belongings left in a disarray as if someone ransacked all they own- but curiously, nothing is stolen. While a few of the more attentive residents of Haven are already at the HSD, petitioning the officers as to why they arrived home from their night shift just before dawn to find it a mess - the Sheriff's office is left too busy because of all these cases.
Our band of mercenaries, on the other hand, a peculiar blend of mismatched people, are in a lusterous limo. Just on the fringes of the Warden's way, where it cuts through the bookstore, the pawn shop - a bar and the institute itself. Their vehicle parked on the sidewalk with them inside of its lavish expanse, the group of four - or five, really, but the last one isn't quite a participant but more of a dominant onlooker - ponder over a map laid between their much needed drinks. Beers, cocktails, the sort. Their driver is restless, but separated - and that group, of two norse looking quiet, massive fellows, and a pair of scantily clad young women with red eyes that seem more appropriately dressed to attend a rave, bicker and argue.
Their noise is cut short by the indifferent, distasted noise of the woman observing all of them, sitting with her legs cross and dominating the window-side portion of the limo with her eyes outside. Perfectly blue, ashimmer like an endless blue - staring right into the institute. "Quiet!" It's almost a hiss, her words, and it silences the lot of them near instantly. Not that the men were doing any talking, in the first place. Trepidation, fear, palpable threat - it swims in a plethora of emotions within their current location, eased only when the woman speaks once again. "It's here." And she smiles, rows upon rows of jagged fangs in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Freya, in her dormitory, surrounded by stacks of cheerleading pom-poms, uniforms and other implements that are put aside because they're unnecessary in the mid-term season, may notice something. A pull, of sorts. Something strange - caught among the field dust, the sneakers on the other end of the nexus of activity. Whether she notices the link of chain or not. If she didn't know any better, she may have thought it calls to her?
Jaqueline knocks before entering the Tri-Delt building, but when she does enter it's with a mimosa in hand, slightly wincing as she steps into the main room. "Hey, Freya? You home? Did you lock our door? I came over to make sure I got all my stuff out earlier!" She makes her way to the staircase, oblivious at the moment to the looming danger that might even overtake this very building. "And your boyfriend hurt my broke arm a little earlier! I kinda want to sue him!"
Freya at that moment had been petting the cat. Whoever said cats and dogs never got along was obviously wrong. It clearly depends on the cat. Nevermind that the person petting it wasn't a dog. Different genus and all. Her hand at the moment she noticed the strange sensation was scratching just underneath the purring cat's chin, while it tilted it's head up in feline esctascy as only a cat could. Claws flicked in and out as it knead it's pedestal and Freya looks kindof glad for a moment that the cat is not on her lap. Her head tilts as her teal eyes flick to the shoes and then over to Jaqueline as the other woman comes in, "Oh Hello again Viper. Yes I've noticed you've moved out. I suppose that makes it a bit easier... And what do you mean hurt your broken arm? Didn't you say you did that like.. weeks ago? 5? 6?" Her words are absent minded as she lets go of the purring cat to walk forward towards those sneakers. "You're so american..." Bending down, she reaches to pick them up, looking at them curiously.
Jaqueline rolls her eyes and makes a small adjustment to her slight and cast, wincing more than before. "No, when I just broke it that was me. Earlier tonight he... threw me down and I partly landed on the cast." She squints at the cat and shakes her head a little. "That cat's never liked me. You know, we probably do need to talk because earlier tonight oh my god you were out of control on some kind of power trip. Like, I get it, your job involves dealing with some people who are probably pretty pissed off, but when somebody acts like Dean does, don't ever be surprised when somebody decides to stand up to it and not let him get away with his shit. You're blinded by love, you for real can't even see what he's like, and some day, it's not even going to matter to him that you've known each other for so long, or even that you've known each other at all. He'll turn his anger on you too, and when he hurts you... I'll give you a shoulder to lean on."
When Jaqueline enters, she has to nearly fight her way through a bunch of worn and torn students filtering their way out of the main room in search of more distraction. A break, a smoke - the sort. Yet, when she's past the mass, she's free to approach Freya at her leisure. The cat she was petting, ever grateful for the attention, continues its purr for some time longer even without the woman that had given it her affection. Paws knead the floor, claws dig into it, tug at the floor-length carpet, but as soon as Freya's hands land on those sneakers, it flees- hisses past Jaqueline and dashes out through the open doors. In surprise, quite a lot of sorority sisters actually follow after it in chase with a cacaphony of sighs and "Noo"'s, cooing and calling, to little avail.
They may realize while talking that they are left completely alone, now, by a strange stroke of luck. An unnatural amount of luck, in fact - attributed to neither of them. The bustle of activity is at a stand still. Is it just them, or has the temperature risen? It's certainly a few degrees hotter in here, now, and the lights flicker a couple times. Off in the distance, heard when the doors had opened and shut, quickly muffled, sirens run across the whole town with no discernible purpose. Even the staff personnel that kept an eye around at all times seems strangely absent. At least, in their vicinity. The lights above them flicker once. None of it isn't anything substantial when encountered individually, but back to back - it is certainly foreboding.
Freya looks over those funny sneakers. Was it some scent that had her suspicious? Or was it something else? Random shoes were quite common... She turns the sneakers over and upsidedown, tapping them against the carpet for a moment before she's distracted by Jaqueline's monologue. "You said the cast had been on for 5 weeks a week ago right? It can come off now you know. Is it fibroglass or paris?" Her words are still slightly distant as she taps the sneakers again, examining them before bringing them slightly closer to her nose for a sniff - slightly closer is like at least a foot away even she really doesn't want to be assaulted by foot smell. All that stuff about her boyfriend washes off her back like water from a duck as she spares a glance up towards Jaqueline, "Thanks for being here for me just incase but. He'll never hurt me. Maybe not unless I beg real good." She laughs softly to herself, an inside joke maybe. That night she was wearing her black leather outfit. A leather corset, laced front and back with red lace and tied with bowties. Leather shorts which also carried on the corsetting effect which shows a line of skin from the top of her hips down to mid thigh. And thigh high boots which are apparently very supple given her crouch that are yet again laced from midthigh down to ankle. Flashes of her pale skin are seen between the ribbons as she examines the sneakers some more.
Jaqueline crinkles her nose a little bit and shakes her head again. "Well that's... so many kinds of mentally stimulating and half of them are just plain horrible. But still, whatever you see in him is no excuse to ignore his own shit behavior." She rubs on the back of her neck and turns from Freya to absolutely no one. "Isn't that ri-" She blinks several times and stares at all the lack of people now, when it had been sorority house packed just a bit earlier. "Whaaat the hell happened?"
While Freya taps the shoes against the ground, that small, slender link of chain hanging just outside from them falls down. It isn't obvious how it came to be, there are no hints to attribute its reason for being here - but it is a strange object that falls into Freya's grasp. Gold and obsidian glass somehow interwoven and bent together create a loop upon which a pendant hangs. It's a nail, or a claw. Possibly the latter - to them both, most definitely that. It belongs to some animal for sure, smells like it, but there is an otherworldly scent to it. Sweet, but not in an alluring way. Jaqueline may not realize, but it is the sickly sweet scent of rot. Like that of a limb, decaying day by day - something Freya would be aware of given her field of work.
The long, elongated and very lethal claw is still somehow a gleaming, interesting object - and in Freya's hands, it thrums with power. Pulses with it, but it is not magic in the sense of being unnatural. It doesn't flare off her senses in disgust, that much is clear. Jaqueline, having noted the lack of people in the vicinity, may also now realize that beyond the eerie quiet, all the lights suddenly go out. It is sudden enough that it can't possibly be the work of an electrical malfunction, but a manmade effect of someone smashing apart an electrical box outside. Some screams are muffled past the doors, and the only grace of light shining down into the room is via the windows set on the eastern side, facing the sunrise that dawns over the eastern horizon now.
The chain link with the claw is picked up and Freya frowns slightly as she looks at it. At Jaqueline's words, she too looks up - just in time for the lights to go dark. Her eyes gleam as she turns towards Jaqueline, that yellow glow of a creature who can see in the dark and she gives a low growl. "Something bad is happening. Fuck. Go upstairs and to our room. Go go. Open the window and see if there's anything to see." She gets to her feet instantly, cramming the object into her corset. For once she kindof wished she had pockets and her leather wasn't completely skin tight but.. oh well. A girl's gotta look pretty. The object with power is still crammed against her skin and she follows Jaqueline -if the woman had gone - if not she goes on her on and takes the stairs two at a time to come to a skidding stop at her room. She unlocks the doorknob with her thumbprint on the knob itself - how else can the school keep up with ever changing students - and pulls it closed after herself or the two of them. Then, she walks over to the window, standing against the wall to try and look outside to see if she can see anything in the darkness.
Jaqueline crinkles her nose a second time, discerning something in the air for sure, but not what. "Guh what is that... sour note in the air?", she asks, then gasping as all the lights go out. "Oh this is not good," she mutters, hurrying over to Freya. "Okay, um, um! I'm terribly sorry, miss Joyce, but I've got a sudden dreadful feeling, please just trust me!" She pushes her right hand forward to press her palm to Freya's sternum, partly onto the tops of the breasts too, and she quickly shouts, "Embrace the ferocity of a viper!" Her irises flicker light blue and she pulls her hand from Freya's chest, running up the stairs after the blessing, onward to room five to rush in there and right to the window.
Before either of them can go ahead, and just as Freya starts to run when she's tucked that unknown artifact unwisely into her cleveage - she'd feel the pinprick feeling of her bare skin suffuse her warmth onto the fang. It replies in turn, and seems to draw from her, viciously, disgusting, with an endlesss hunger that slowly but surely begins to sap her strength. If she isn't quick enough to take it out, that sudden, slight fatigue may expand and grow -- but she isn't given the opportunity to, not yet, and not immediately. Jaqueline has other plans, it seems - and when she brings her hand to Freya's chest, a similar blue light to her eyes sparks alive, crackles in a current through the air of untamed power.
It eats the blessing in Freya's place, molds it, twists it, and a darkly green light bursts from beneath Jaqueline's palm to erupt in an explosive force that propels the both of them across the room, to either side. The raw pressure alone pops their ears, makes it difficult to hear for a few seconds like everything is drowned underwater, and their heads swim. Jaqueline, her hand slightly charred, though relatively uninjured, would find the hems of her skirt burnt up, as a few meshes torn out of her crop top. Black soot runs up to her elbows along her forearms, and it stings. Freya on the other hand, thrown at the floor just under the window with her back landing on it, would still feel the damned thing drawing her strength, now with more vigor and hunger -- and by some miracle her top has endured the explosion, didn't explode open then and there, but it is slightly charred at the edges of the opening leading to the top of her breasts.
Should they manage to get it together enough, earn their bearing one more, they might hear their phones buzzing viciously in their pockets, before simply turning off in another electricl involvement. It is contained just to the Tri-Delta sorority house, and some thunderous footsteps right outside the door, beyond the foyer, are swiftly approaching.
Freya blinks down at Jaqueline just about to tear the artifact from her skin as she felt it's draining suck but the other woman puts her hand between and just above her breasts. "Shi-"
Freya doesn't even get to finish her swear as the explosion knocks them both backwards and she goes careening across the floor to slam into the window. Growling, her hand goes into her corset and yanks out the artifact, holding it very firmly by the chain now so that none of it touches her skin. "Fucking cunt of an artifact." She swears as she staggers to her feet. The charred edges of the corset show off more of the curves of her breast, leaving them dangerously close to spilling out of the leather as her lips twist. "You okay Viper?" She calls out softly as the pounding footsteps begin - looking around, she desperately finds another pair of way stinkier shoes and shoves the artifact within before buring it behind one of the cupboards in the foyer. That done, she looks around for something, anything to use as a weapon.
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!" Jaqueline flies all the way across to the wall on the far side of the room and slams into it hard enough to scramble her thoughts. She flops to the floor lucky to land on her right side, shuddering and twitching. She cries out again with her charred hand twitching a little extra, and she takes a minute to gather herself after that. The horrible experience has her gasping and groaning, rocking back and forth on the floor and trying to get over the jarring experience. She stays down but starts to one-armed crawl her way closer to Freya, looking all around and blinking a lot. "What? Miss Joyce? Where? What the hell just happened? Oh god what's going on?"
Unless Freya is about to use a pair of cheerleading pompoms for weaponry, there isn't much of anything in the area that could be used as an utensil for combat. The scent of charred leather is thick in the air, so is magic. The primeval sort that Jaqueline tried to infuse into the other woman. Burnt hair is mixed into it, overbearing, disgusting - and where they were before in the center of the room, there is now a shallow indent. The glass Freya was flung against is cracked, so is the wall that Jaqueline flew into. Maybe if there was more room to gather momentum around them, neither of them would be in a proper state to even talk.
Freya's quick thinking saves her, because the wolf in her is awfully quiet even for a few more seconds after she's removed the fang and stuffed it in a pair of old shoes and hid them with the rest. It returns to her quickly, but it leaves a gnawing sensation that had it been any longer, what she lost would've been gone for good. Jaqueline feels a similar pull. The very blessing she tried to exercise is now out of her grasp. She can't grant it any longer - if only for an hour. It'll return, she can feel it, the spark of divinity bright in her chest only slightly jaded, but it will take more to recover for her.
Just then, the doors slam open. The duo that enters, they clearly have never heard of locks. A pair of burly, immensely large men, near identical to one another, stare with cold, icy eyes that are weathered and worn in their silence. They effectivelly bar the exit, leaving the only route of escape the window or the upstairs - neither of which seem like wise options, but who knows, really? Fate often had strange strokes to color their lives. As it stands, neither of theise clearly scandinavian descent folk make a sound. They're garbed in militaristic, almost mercenary work outfits that are just as identical, but with the golden trim and silver embossing that denotes them of people with no small rank. Not in any military, no, but to any who would recognize it, the insignia they wear of the Golden Shadow is very proudly worn on their breasts, above their hearts.
They heft identical hammers up on their shoulders, at the same time, and wait.
Halfway to Freya, Jaqueline suddenly looks over as the sorority house door bursts open and two burly men come crashing through wielding war hammers. Her eyes widen and she freezes up, having no alternate form yet herself, and no armor to run for, nor katana, both kept far off the school grounds. She doesn't even give Freya a glance at this point, her eyes locked on the men in terror, and she starts trying to scramble backward, screaming for help at the top of her lungs. "HELP! HELP! ANYBODY! CHARITY HOUSE IS UNDER ATTACK! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP!"
"I guess the Golden shadow really is in town." Freya mutters as she reaches down to help Jaqueline to her feet, easing the other woman from where she lays on the ground, which for her strength is just... picking Jaqueline up and setting her down very gently to make sure she stays on her feet. "Maybe they're here for the...." Her teal eyes flick to the other woman but only for a second before training back onto the duo infront of her, "Do you still have it?" She hisses underneath her breath as she puts her back against the cupboard as if sitting or leaning on it for support. One hand squeezes down on the cupboard slightly, a sign of frustration as she takes in their hammers. At Jaqueline's yelling she just shrugs her eyes showing that she was way too jaded by now to think that someone else would just come along. "What do you want?" She calls out to the scandanavian thugs.
Jaqueline yelps and goes right along with Freya, holding onto her with her right arm for dear life. "It's hidden away in the other house! Oh my god they're gonna kill us!!"
No dice. Jaqueline's scream for help falls on deaf ears. More than that, it seems to instill some distaste in the men, in fact. She may sense, just faintly, some inkling of familiarity - be it the shades of their eyes, the vitality practically oozing out of their near-perfect make. No such thing for Freya, she's simply beholden to the two, trying her subterfuge which earns only silence from their aggressors. They are clerly not here to talk, and whatever their purpose may be, it stays elusive is kept silence along their stare.
Behind the two women, however, just outside the window, there is a shape. A small hummingbird flitting whichever way in a jovial attitude. IT hadn't dashed away even when the glass had cracked, even when the explosion took place. It simply stayed, hovering, watching - ever more gleeful. Past the men, two other women enter. Red eyes, raw power, militaristic posture but scant clothes that reveal a lot of skin from their short jean shorts to their sleeveless croptops that cling to their skin and leave very little to the imagination about their figures. One of them holds a laptop, typing away as she settles between the two men - the other, in her approaach, beckons more attention.
As soon as they make their presence, one of the men sink down on a single knee, and that woman, a brunette, lays the massive gun she's wielding over his shoulder to use the man as both a cover and a bipod for security while the rifle is trained on both Jaqueline and Freya. "Excuse our intrusion," The laptop-wielding one, the other demonborn, simply dripping corruption, speaks on behalf of everyone present. "We're looking for something that belongs to us, and we know its here." Her lilting tone, business-like despite her rave-appropraite attire, cuts through the conversation of the other two. "Kindly give it to use and you /may/ yet live to see your, I don't know- When does the world end?" She casts a look at the stil standing demigod at her side - who doesn't speak, returns a clueless shrug of a single shoulder, which prompts her to finish her words. "Your old age."
Jaqueline watches the two women come in, the gun being mounted upon the man's shoulder... she barely registers the other womans words until she's well into the next sentence. But unable to take her eyes off the gun, she slowly sinks to her knees, raising her right hand up by her head. "Oh my god please don't shoot us! I- we- nobody meant to steal anything!" she says in a fluster, pointing slightly at Freya. "She found a c-claw thingy on a chain i-in a pair of shoes i-if that's what you're looking for!!"
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Jodie lays in bed in her trailer at the trailer park, on top of the covers with her shoes still on like she must've collapsed into bed late last night without the energy to take them off. She reeks of alcohol and is likely sleeping off a night of heavy drinking.
Jodie is definitely snoring like a bear as well.
It's already pretty hot out for being only 10 AM - the temperature in the trailer probably even more stifling than this with a thick, almost muddy sort of feel to it. The smell of alcohol and whatever is stuck to the bottom of Jodie's shoes is also permeating quite nicely. But this doesn't seem to disturb the sleeping bear.
But, there comes a sudden drop in temperature. Like a spike of ice that sears the body of the sleeping bear-beauty only for a moment. That feeling that some describe as a person walking over their grave. And then the cold is gone - but the goosebumps left on Jodie's arms and neck probably still remain.
If this isn't enough to wake her, the sudden opening and closing of the dresser drawers might be loud enough to do so.
In the light of morning, there is a faint persona, almost as if they are a heat mirage, of a woman going through the dresser as if she's looking for one very specific item of clothing. Or... the way she's rifling through would suggest she may be looking for something.
Jodie groans in a most unlady like manner and lifts and flops an arm towards the sound of the opening and closing of the drawers, "I've got nothing to steal." she grunts out. She cracks one blurry eye open, oh the horror of the dim light piercing her hung-over skull.
Jodie turns her head without moving her body to try to make out the persona of the woman, she looks vaguely unconcerned, perhaps annoyed by someone rifling through her drawers, "Did we fuck?" she ask dully. She furrows her brow faintly then as she becomes aware she's to fully dressed to be waking up from a one night stand, she even reaches down to touch that her shorts are still on. This snaps her awake with a bit more alertness, "Huh?"
The woman appears to be dressed in a waitress's outfit, now that Jodie is a little more awake to assess. She has a little apron with pockets tied around her waist for her notepad and maybe some tips. There's even a nametag over her left breast, though this detail is still fuzzy.
At Jodie's words, the visage stops her rifling - nearly shoulder deep into one drawer as she reaches all the way to the back, patting around for whatever hidden object she is desperate for. "YOU." The word comes out of her like seething and the shimmery warm air around her takes on a more sinister aura. The light in the room seems to fade a moment, like all the air is being sucked in towards this woman whose hair is disarrayed. The bags under her eyes scream night shift. And the cold lance is sent out again to Jodie, like a jump into an ice bath that takes her breath away. "Where's my tip money?!?" She demands, her voice almost bi-tonal with deep bass-like undertones that make it eerily unnatural.
Jodie is struggling still to fight her hang-over and collect her thoughts. One could even see the occasional braincell behind her eyes bumping into another braincell, fizzling out making her eyes dull some what, metaphorically.
She sits up grunting softly when she's struck with intense cold and she tries to get a sense of the woman in the apron, "Tip for what? You don't get paid if the Jane passes out before you do your part. What kinda hoe are you?"
The face of this womanly figure isn't quite clear to Jodie now. It's almost as if it shifts features to sometimes look like one woman and then another. All of them with some small recognizable feature to the collection of brain-cells running overtime in Jodie's memory. But the expression of all of these muddled featured faces gives the clear impression of two things. Digust and distress.
"It was EVERYTHING I had!" The shifting and shimmering figure wails pitifully, the sound almost like a screech in Jodie's hungover ears. "EVERYTHING!!" The dramatics cause a couple of items to topple off a shelf - a burst of energy popping through the room like earth tremors.
"You took it from me!" This is the conclusion this spirit makes now, looking at the befuddled woman on the bed. "YOU took EVERYTHING..." The words grow more sinister in tone and the temperature drops in the trailer in a way that is no longer a sharp burst but a held aura.
Jodie scrambles out of her bed to the opposite side of it from the ghostly woman. She squints, slowly getting focus and perhaps recognition. She can't be sure and so she seeks confirmation with a hint of discomfort at not wanting to confirm her suspicions. "You..did I kill you?" she grimaces like it was an admission of guilt.
"Kill... me?" The visage replies, only now hesitating as if being asked to contemplate something rather outside the scope of its primitive ambitions.
Perhaps it does not know what it is, driven only by this sense of loss of... what? Life savings? ... Life?
The light in the room fades again, this time into a deep dark, only briefly - before returning to morning light once more. The shifting face of the figure regains its composure and glares at Jodie, stalking forward to the bedside in a painstakingly slow but very deliberate motion. "You take and you take and you take," it says still with that polyphonic voice. "Now... what should I take?"
Jodie puts her hand to her forehead in a gesture of pain, both at her hang-over that did not magically disappear and her approaching headache of being faced with her life choices in such a real way.
"Who walks home at night along a forest road on a full moon! It's stupid." the messy haired chick says, victim blaming the ghostly woman. She quickly decides this isn't the right tact and she looks geninuely remorseful as she tries to look the shifting ghostly form in the eye, "Look, I'm sorry. I don't have control of myself sometimes. Accidents happen.."
looks around the trailer then with an unsettlingly assessing sort of look. "Accidents happen," she-it repeats as if tasting the phrase. "Like... trailer explosions from leaking gas lines? Like alcohol poisoning? Like a one night stand gone terribly wrong?"
Jodie might be awake enough to get the sense that the spirit is threatening her. Starting to get ideas. The violence begetting violence.
"Sorry... sorry..." it repeats back to her then too in a mocking tone. "Sorry... SORRY... SORRY!" The words are getting louder, almost manic sounding like the spirit is clearly not in its right mind.
Jodie back steps from the ghost till she's at the end of her small trailer bedroom about to be backed into a wall. She has a tinge of fear, but she's also been raised on such things as ghost, threats and violence and so she keeps her composure. "Something's going to get me eventually, God knows I deserve it." the woman says somewhat solemn. "But it wont be you, all you can do now is rest. Accept it, it's no different than getting side swiped by a car or tripping and hitting your head." her argument appears to deflect agency from her role in the killing
The image of the woman shifts again, the face flickering through more features as it grows suddenly thoughtful, the cold air of the room holding still but now instead of a piercing rage, a heavy burden of sorrow begins to fall like an invisible heavy snow.
"Not my fault," she says then in sad though still angry tones. "Not Not Not." She shoves her hands into her waitress's belt, rummaging for her tips, for coins, for anchoring. "No rest... I need to work. I need the money... I need, need need." The repetitive words take on almost a different tone every time they are said as if to match the shifting faces.
The ire of the spirit seems to be fading to shift inwards now though - whatever Jodie is saying seems to be setting if off on a different course from that of 'destroying her' now.
Jodie bites her inner cheek, watching on edge for what the ghostly figure might do. When the woman rambles about money and tips she gets an idea to fish in her pocket for a crumpled twenty, her only twenty. She tosses it on the bed towards the ghost and says, "Here's a good tip..I'm sorry."
She knows there is no effective way to fight the ghost, especially without arcane ability. "When accidents happen..like this. The societies cover them up, pay out the families for silence and such. If you left anyone behind, they are taken care of."
The ghostly eyes flick hungrily to the twenty on the bed, the need and the greed taking over as she leans towards it almost as if she's being sucked in by this bill.
But she stops.
The words that Jodie speaks next hit the spirit like a piercing spear made of light. Those exact words, perfectly wielded like a bolt in lieu of arcane magic. A sound, like an exhale of breath fills the room almost too loudly for Jodie's still hungover ears. But luckily it is a soft noise, and over quickly.
With that sound, the spirit begins to lose its physical manisfestation, fading away from the inside to the edges - like that hole straight through its heart created by Jodie's words were a burning hole in a page of parchment.
"Taken care of..." the ghost repeats with such infinite tenderness it's almost heart-breaking - before she finally vanishes into the air and the stifling, muddy heat of the trailer rushes back in to fill the space left behind.