Encounterlogs
Isoldes Odd Encounter Sr Kah 241218
The tale weaves two distinct threads of encounters touched by the supernatural and the fragile border between perception and reality. In the first story, Isolde confronts a man plunged into distress after witnessing a nightmare turn reality. His frantic pleas in the heart of the bustling streets of Haven fall into Isolde's path, leading her to step forward and guide the man toward safety and away from the public's wary eyes. Despite his initial resistance, Isolde's persistence and the undercurrent of her own recent adversities reflect in her efforts to calm him, culminating in their withdrawal to the refuge of "The Trove." Here, amidst the cacophony of arcade games and the flicker of neon lights, a semblance of normalcy attempts to drape over the man's terror. Isolde, with a blend of frank realism and a hint of mystery, engages the man in a moment of distraction, attempting to thread the needle between acknowledging his fear and ensuring it does not unravel to consume him. Their encounter, captured awkwardly in a photobooth, ends with Isolde leaving the man with a newfound, albeit fragile, grasp on his shaken reality.
The second narrative unfolds with Kah, a figure deeply woven into the supernatural fabric of Haven, as he steps through the threshold from the Wilds into a chilling scene marked by the remnants of an unnerving presence. His encounter with a child, lost within the confines of her own mind and trapped in a cycle of fear and repetition, draws him into a realm that blurs the lines between dreams and waking life. The girl, Renee, ensconced in her own torment and held captive by a dark figure known only as "Enos," finds in Kah an unexpected anchor to the world she seeks to return to. Together, they stand before a doorway that promises escape or perhaps deeper entanglement in the mysteries that bind her. In a moment charged with fragile hope, they step through the doorway, leaving behind the shadows of their encounter, embarking into the uncertain embrace of what lies beyond, each carrying the weight of their exchange and the unanswered questions it leaves in its wake.
(Isolde's odd encounter(SRKah):SRKah)
[Tue Dec 17 2024]
Before Trove Barcade
A simple cobblestone paved path cuts across a pristine green lawn as it leads towards the entrance of the Barcade. On either side of the path, wooden barrels serve as rustic planters for a variety of colorful, exotic flowers.
The facade, a charming blend of rustic timber and weathered brick, is adorned with a large, neon sign that spells out "The Trove". The front doors, made of heavy, aged wood, are flanked by two large, brass lanterns.
It is after dusk, about 33F(0C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Isolde leaves the Trove with a heavy walk. She is, as is the fashion, dressed in 'I have been a car wreck this morning and there has been no convenience to change.'
And, in the fashion of such desires, there is a volume from The Trove that Isolde leaves.
Isolde tentatively presses her fingers against the back of her head, feeling for a lump that the preternatural blood of Dreams has reduced to a mere nightmare.
The downtown street is alive with the usual hustle and bustle: the rhythmic clatter of footsteps on pavement, the hum of conversations blending together, and the occasional honk of a car navigating the nearby streets. Food trucks vie for control of the small town streets, each sending wafts of mouthwatering aromas into the air - tacos, barbecue, and freshly brewed coffee. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow, creating a tapestry of light and shadow across the open square where people gather to relax and socialize. Suddenly, a commotion breaks the usual flow of activity. A young man, his face pale and eyes wide with terror, bursts into the center of the street. His clothes are rumpled, and his hair looks as if he's been frantically running his hands through it. He stops, looking around wildly, his breathing ragged and uneven.
"Did you see that?" he yells, his voice shaking with fear. "Did anyone else see that?" His words hang in the air, unanswered, as people begin to turn and stare, curiosity and concern etched on their faces. The man's hands tremble as he clutches at his chest, trying to steady himself. "It was real," he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. "I know what I saw. It was real." His eyes are wide with a mixture of disbelief and horror, his mind struggling to process the reality of what he's witnessed.
A few bystanders cautiously approach, offering words of comfort and questions of concern, but the man recoils, his fear palpable. "Stay away!" he shouts, his voice rising in pitch. "You don't understand! It's out there, and it's coming for us!" His words send a ripple of unease through the crowd, and murmurs of alarm begin to spread. His gaze locks onto an alleyway between two buildings, his eyes narrowing as if he expects something to emerge from the shadows at any moment. "I saw it," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "A creature... not of this world. It had eyes like fire and claws that could tear through steel." He shudders at the memory, his body trembling with the intensity of his fear. As more people gather, the man's panic escalates. "We have to do something!" he pleads, his voice cracking. "We can't just stand here and wait for it to come for us. We have to fight back!" His desperation is evident, and a sense of urgency begins to take hold of the crowd.
"Please," he begs, his eyes scanning the faces around him, seeking someone who might believe him. "You have to believe me. It's real. It's all real." His voice wavers with emotion, and tears start to stream down his face. "I don't want to die," he whispers, his terror giving way to a deep, primal fear. The once mellow street has now become a scene of tension and uncertainty. The man's frantic pleas and wild-eyed terror cast a shadow over the square, leaving the onlookers grappling with the sudden and shocking revelation that their world may not be as safe and predictable as they once believed. As the man continues to cry out for help, his voice growing hoarse from the strain, the crowd shifts uneasily. Some people exchange nervous glances, while others keep their eyes fixed on the alleyway, half-expecting something sinister to emerge from the darkness. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of impending danger, and the crowd is left wondering what, if anything, they can do to protect themselves from the unknown threat. Witnessing this, Isolde knows that the stakes of such a thing could be dire if too much happens too publicly. And there's nobody else around to deal with it tonight. Will she? Or will she continue walking, letting fate decide the man's next minutes?
Isolde lets a tired expression sit on her face.
Isolde steps forward, surgical mask hiding the better part of her face- the part without bags. Sticking her hands in the kangaroo pouch, she steps up to give voice to doubt, "You are, like, a little far from deadwood, 'dude." The word doesn't sound right from her lips, which aids in its perceived judgment.
Isolde says "How about, like, we go into Trove or something if you are feeling unsafe? Talk?"
The man who's approached by Isolde is having none of it at the moment. His eyes are still glued to the alleyway and that muttering never ceases, this man is a crazy-looking person as he's pacing back and forth and creating a scene in the middle of the street. "What?! No! Get away from me, it's coming you'll see!" His trembling hand lifts to point out toward the alleyway at the other side of the street. This one happens to slip between the Trove and whatever buildings sit next to it, some run-down half of a bar, or other dilapitated buildings that are strewn about this end of town. However, the look of Isolde seems a little more stable or less unnerved than everyone else around and that seems to calm the man down a hair, at least. "Go where?" HE asks, his face suddenly showing a fearful expression.
Isolde jerks her head casually to the Trove Barcade, simply the BEST place to take your child to steer into the onset of a gambling addiction! "Bar. People inside. Unless, like.. You are just wanting to freak out in the middle of the street?"
Isolde glances at everyone else. "I mean, like, it is late at night and town has a dog problem. But, like.."
Isolde says "No one should walk alone at night? Maybe you are a guy and just don't get that. Just go into the Bar and think before you start throwing up."
The mere mention of the town having a 'dog problem' is enough to see a healthy number of those watchful bystanders suddenly realize they have things to do and places to see and many of them are very conspicuously wandering off now and the crowd thins out. With a blink, the man seems to have to focus on Isolde to really pay attention to what she's saying because he's far and away distracted by the delusions or truths that are assaulting his mind with newly opened eyes. As the inital shock wears off however, Isolde will find that in that state the man isn't that hard to herd like a docile sheep and with some verbal prodding and nudging she's able to put the man in a beeline toward the Trove's entrance. Will Isolde accompany him, now? Or leave the others milling about inside the place to deal with the newfound trouble? Who knows what will happen if he starts spouting out this nonsense in the middle of a crowded place with throwing axes?
Isolde tugs the man towards the arcade cabinets. The air is polarizing; tired contempt on a well kept face, yet wearing a hoodie tears and powdered glass. "I rolled my car this morning." She provides at some point. She puts a ten dollar bill into an exchange counter for old tickets, and tiptoes to speak into his ear to speak over the noise of arcade cabinets and general ruckus. "We're taking a photo booth and then we will talk, okay?"
The man himself is mostly just walking along at this point, fearful expression easy for anyone to see. The place is bustling in some fashions, a blond and some purple-ahired woman in the back throwing axes, and some lanky long-armed fellow murmuring with some other chick across the way and leaving the bar unmanned. The tickets are enough to get them into the photobooth of course, and once inside, Isolde is blanketed by the minimal illusion of privacy created by the flimsy black curtinas that pull closed to create separation in the booth from the rest of the barcade.
Isolde ducks inside, shuffling to make room in the seat. She plays with the interface in front of her, shuffling through filters that sell to the audience a super imposed comedy of stickers rather than the commercial replacement of Instagram filters.
Isolde says "Okay. You are good speaker. Talk, oh- and like, remember to smile."
The man seems to take a minute or two to come out of his reverie. He's blinking in surprise at first, the woman next to him casually feeding in money to get pictures from the booth while telling him to spill out what he's seen. The biggest difference seems to be that she's the first person to not immediately look at the fellow like he's completely crazy. "I .. " his eyes grow wide, paranoia coming through his expression but eventually he chooses to speak. "I saw it" he says to her, his voice hoarse from the yelling and the shouting from before. "Firey eyes that smoked! Claws ripping through the wall next to me! It's coming for us!" His voice begins to raise, and Isolde has to re-calm him down to avoid drawing too much attention to them. IT sounds like something #Isolde may have seen before. Some of the things in the NIghtmare - they try to pull and rip themselves free from the shadows that envelop them. Perhaps it's htis that he saw.
"Hm." Isolde mumbles neutrally, settling on a filter that says in big yellow font GOOD JOB.
You go, girl.
"Well, look, if something is coming for us we will hear screams first - and like, right now you are with cute girl and getting a picture taken. If you don't smile, I am getting upset." She leans against him and holds smile for the camera. It drops into a placcid scowl when she doesn't like what's reflected back to her. She looks at him in the image as she speaks, "look. You saw it, okay. It was terrible, probably. But you are not asking questions you are just stating things like they are going to happen. So what? You said it was coming for everyone. Why? What did I do to it? It's not coming for me that's just dumb."
Isolde begins to empty her pockets of a water solution and white makeup pads, and begins to remove her makeup in the reflection.
The young man takes a deep breath, his eyes still wide with fear as he begins to recount the terrifying encounter. "It was just past noon," he starts, his voice trembling. "I was walking home through the park, the one with all the old oaks and the narrow path that cuts through the woods. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and I had this feeling that something wasn't right. I heard rustling in the bushes, but I thought it was just a stray cat or a raccoon." His hands tremble as he continues, "But then, out of nowhere, this creature emerged. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. It had these glowing eyes - bright, fiery orange, like embers in a fire. They pierced through the darkness and locked onto me, and I felt this wave of dread wash over me. I couldn't move, couldn't even scream. I was paralyzed with fear." He shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory. "The creature was massive, towering over me even from a distance. Its body was covered in what looked like scales, dark and shimmering, with a texture almost like molten metal. It moved with this unnatural grace, gliding through the shadows without making a sound. And its claws... they were long, razor-sharp, and glinted menacingly in the faint light. I could see them tearing through anything in their path with ease."
The young man's voice cracks as he recalls more details. "It had this elongated face, almost reptilian, but with an otherworldly quality. Its mouth was filled with rows of sharp teeth, and when it opened its jaws, I could see a flicker of blue flame deep within its throat. The air around it seemed to distort, like heat waves rising from hot pavement. It was as if the creature itself was a living furnace, exuding an aura of raw, primal power." He clenches his fists, the fear still evident in his eyes. "It started to advance towards me, slow and deliberate, as if it was toying with me. I finally found the strength to move and stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet in my desperation to get away. I don't know how, but I managed to scramble to my feet and run. I didn't look back, but I could feel its presence, like a burning weight on my back."
His voice grows quieter, filled with a mixture of relief and lingering terror. "I ran until I couldn't run anymore, until I reached the edge of the park and saw the lights of the town. I thought I was safe, but now... now I don't know. That thing is out there, and it knows I saw it. I can still feel its eyes on me, even now. Its real, and its out there, lurking in the shadows." Whatever this thing is that the man describes, it's definitely not something normal from the Nightmare, Isolde can determine that easy enough. Then to her active question, he takes a shuddered breath and tries to smile for the camera. The picture comes out horrible, the man just LOOKS like he's being held hostage, but it might make for a great proof of life photograph! "I can't say why. I just ... I felt like it wanted to burn the whole world! All of us ... it's out there." His voice returns to a whisper, trying to grasp at whatever his subconscious holds onto that gives him this sense of foreboding doom.
Isolde snickers at the photo, holding the bangs back from her face to exult in full glory. She bumps her head against the man. "Isn't this funny?"
She sighs in content of the moment. "Okay. I will be a tiny little honest with you? The world is dangerous. There are things you don't know about, but that's always been true. There are monsters, but like, your situation on being eaten or whatever isn't any more dangerous than it was being eaten by the rich." She dabbles her face with a towelette. "You're not in danger right now, okay? You probably not dangerous later either."
Isolde says "You stand the same chance against what you saw as a wild bear, which is, like, no chance. Other people are taking care of it, so, like, pfft.."
Isolde says "I am sharing this picture with a friend, okay?"
There's a long bout of silence that comes from the man as Isolde kind of rambles on and dumps information on him. But perhaps that bit of overload is just the ticket, or at least the woman's plan. It leaves him more or less MORE in shock than he was before, hearing someone validate his sighting and tell him it IS all true. And then tell him he should most likely ignore it and pretend everything is fine if he wants to live a long and healthy life. He just nods his head dumbly at the request from Isolde before his voice comes stuttering out after a fashion. "W-what should I Do?" The question is a bit redundant of course, but his mind can come up with little else. Attempts to look the man up via the picturer of his face or through other alternative means will bring up a rather mundane man with a rather mundane life. Isolde will claim some personal sense of satisfaction though. He's a columnist, writing gossip columns for local newspapers both here and in Boston.
Isolde sinks into her seat in the stance of the contemplative delinquent. "The more you talk about these things the more, like, people will notice. So just don't. Like, it is terrifying and you will never forget it, but so is war - seriously, it sucks." Her tone doesn't look like she knows, but her eyes do.
She pats the man's leg. "Okay, move. I need to get out. It's dark and I am needing to get home."
The man does just that, moving more out of finding it easier to follow the instruction than to decide for himself. Isolde will clamber out of the photo booth and thankfully things in the place have quieted down. A few people still hang about but there's mostly couples in booths or having quiet convertsations as the sun's gone down and the night air has settled in all cold and chilly. Fairly certain she's done her best to keep this man from running off at the mouth, Isolde can leave safely and on to the rest of her day's business. Because in this town? Things are never done.
OOC: Thank you for participating! If you need a summon when you head down please let me know!
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with helping to cure someone's insanity by delving into their mind with dream invading to solve the issues keeping them from sanity.
)
Kah is stepping through the gate that leads toward Haven's woods and city limits from the Wilds realm where he and his pack often stay as of late. The cold air cuts through the relatively scant protection his clothing provides and the large bronzed man gives a rare shiver down his spine from the cut of the chill into his skin and bones.
Snow swirls across the ground in Haven, the chill of winter gripping the landscape with an icy hand. The trees, stripped almost bare, stand like silent sentinels, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind, which whistles through them in eerie gusts. The night is thick with darkness, amplifying the stillness, making everything feel quieter than it really is. Out near the gate, where the world seems to narrow and isolate, the silence weighs heavier. There's something unsettling about the air tonight, a subtle unease that creeps beneath the skin, as if the very night itself holds its breath. The usual sounds of the world feel distant, muffled, and all that remains is the haunting whisper of the wind and the cold.
Stepping through the gate, Kah immediately feels the absence of warmth, as if the very air has turned against him. The cold seeps into his bones, a sharp reminder of the harsh winter that has taken hold. As he looks down, his eyes catch something unusual in the snowa faint trail of tracks, barely visible beneath the snow that has settled in the scattered patches of foliage. The tracks are small, almost delicate, and the pattern they form seems erratic, as if the creature that left them was stumbling or moving in an unpredictable way. The snow, blown by the wind, has only added to the disarray, giving the tracks a haphazard, almost drunken appearance.
The temperature is so low that it stings the skin with each breath. Inhaling the bitter air is almost painful, the cold seizing the lungs with a sharp bite, but it doesn't stop Kah from trying to catch a scent. Every inhale feels like it cuts through him, leaving an almost metallic taste in the back of his throat as he concentrates on the traces of whatever passed through here. Something feels wrong about this night, and the tracks only add to the growing sense of unease in the air.
A sudden sound cuts through the silence, piercing the stillness of the night. It's unsettling, an eerie, twisted mixture of a laugh and a squeal that echoes off the trees. The sound is jarring, out of place, and it seems to come from somewhere nearby, just beyond the edge of the gate. Not from the road or the open air, but from the depths of the trees, where the shadows cling thick and heavy.
The noise is strange, disjointed, as if the very essence of it is warped, half-formed in some nightmarish way. Its too close for comfort, too immediate to ignore. With no wind in the moment, and in the unnatural stillness, the echoes of that twisted sound seem to hang in the air, lingering and unsettling. Something stirs in the darkness ahead.
A pang of uncertainty comes through Kah. His instincts drive him to take steps forward and his mind begins to push the cold aside from his thoughts, even as it bites into his lungs with each slowly drawn breath. Metallic ...the scent of some kind of blood on the air? It stirs the animal within and before he can decide to be wise instead of Kah, he's on the move. His body is gaunt, but he moves with determination. Almost a forward lean to the way he lopes and runs, he at least knows the trees here well, roaming them often in the past and he relies on that knowledge more than his reflexes and his strength now. As the snowy trees begin to pass him, his mind turns to the risks that come with pursuing something like this, but that gets pushed away as easily as the cold - are the laughter and the squealing one and the same? It's hard to tell, but trying his best to catch the scent, he'll follow it, no doubt stark against the crisp cold smell of snow.
The faintest traces of a scent hang in the air, almost imperceptible, mingling with the biting cold. It's there, just on the edge of perception, drawing Kah's attention as he begins to move, following the unsettling noise. The twisted laughter and squealing that had echoed moments before now shifts into a disjointed stream of gibberish, its incoherence making the air feel thicker with unease.
Not far from where he stepped through the gate, someone sharp eyes catch sight of somethinga figure crouched low behind one of the towering trees. Shes small, almost childlike, suggesting youth, though the way she holds herself is strange. Her posture is odd, hunched in a way that doesnt seem natural, as if shes squatting to hide, though there's nowhere to truly conceal herself. Its clear that her gaze is fixed somewhere in the empty air, her lips moving rapidly as she talks to... nothing. To the wind, to the shadows, to something invisible that only she can see.
The sight is jarring. It doesnt make sensethis tiny girl, so absorbed in her strange conversation, seems to be utterly unaware of the towering figure of Kah just a short distance away. The gibberish continues, her voice high-pitched and erratic, creating a surreal and unsettling contrast against the backdrop of the cold, silent night.
As Kah moves closer, a flicker of red, stark and out of place against the pure white of the snow, becomes visible. Its a splash of color that stands out in the dim light, drawing his gaze like a beacon. The red is not much, but it's enough to catch his eye, perhaps a piece of cloth, a stain, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it has fallen onto the snow, leaving a trail of crimson against the unforgiving white landscape, as if it were an unnatural stain in the night.
The faintest traces of a scent hang in the air, almost imperceptible, mingling with the biting cold. It's there, just on the edge of perception, drawing Kah's attention as he begins to move, following the unsettling noise. The twisted laughter and squealing that had echoed moments before now shifts into a disjointed stream of gibberish, its incoherence making the air feel thicker with unease.
Not far from where he stepped through the gate, Kah's sharp eyes catch sight of somethinga figure crouched low behind one of the towering trees. Shes small, almost childlike, suggesting youth, though the way she holds herself is strange. Her posture is odd, hunched in a way that doesnt seem natural, as if shes squatting to hide, though there's nowhere to truly conceal herself. Its clear that her gaze is fixed somewhere in the empty air, her lips moving rapidly as she talks to... nothing. To the wind, to the shadows, to something invisible that only she can see.
The sight is jarring. It doesnt make sensethis tiny girl, so absorbed in her strange conversation, seems to be utterly unaware of the towering figure of Kah just a short distance away. The gibberish continues, her voice high-pitched and erratic, creating a surreal and unsettling contrast against the backdrop of the cold, silent night.
As Kah moves closer, a flicker of red, stark and out of place against the pure white of the snow, becomes visible. Its a splash of color that stands out in the dim light, drawing his gaze like a beacon. The red is not much, but it's enough to catch his eye, perhaps a piece of cloth, a stain, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it has fallen onto the snow, leaving a trail of crimson against the unforgiving white landscape, as if it were an unnatural stain in the night.
The vibrant splash of color continues to draw Kah's attention and it's unnerving, perhaps not quite like the feel of magic grating against his skin or fur but the gibberish seems as jarring to him to hear as it is to try and understand. His eyes flicker between following that sense of crimson and the child even as he crouches himself. His own crouch doesn't seem meant to hide but it's more of a comfort thing. Almost one could expect the man himself to lope forward on his knukles like a beast the way he prowls forth using his hands and arms to guide him as much as his visual senses now. A slow blink comes, as the fog of his mind pushes back at him as he tries to make sense of the situation that has perhaps no sense to find.
As Kah moves closer, the figure becomes clearer. A child, just on the cusp of her teenage years. She has pale blonde hair, tightly braided in two long strands that seem to hold every strand in place, as if trying to keep something contained, something that might otherwise spill free. Her appearance is delicate, fragile, but theres an unfamiliar tension in the way she holds herself, crouched low to the ground.
Her small hands move frantically as she traces a circle in the snow, her fingertip sweeping the same path over and over again, a repetitive motion that seems almost ritualistic. The circle she draws is imperfect, jagged in places, but she doesnt seem to care, lost in the rhythm of it. Her eyes remain unfocused, locked somewhere into the empty space before her, while her mouth continues to work in a steady stream of gibberish.
As Kah gets closer, the nature of her speech becomes clearer. It's not just a random spattering of sounds, but a single, continuous run of words, tumbling over each other in a long, disjointed sentence. Its as if shes speaking faster than her mind can process, unable to stop the flow of words that seem to make no sense, each one slurring into the next. The sound of her voice grows louder as she continues, but its still impossible to make out any distinct meaning in her rapid chatter.
As her eyes flick upward, they lock onto someone figure, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze. The rapid gibberish halts abruptly, as if her mouth and mind have caught on the sudden shock of his presence. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark contrast to the frantic noise that had filled the air just moments before. Startled by the sight of him, she loses her balance, her small body toppling backward onto the snow with a soft thud. She lands awkwardly, her wide eyes fixed on him in stunned silence, her breath coming in shallow, almost panicked gasps. The circle she had been tracing on the ground is forgotten, her hand now resting limply in the snow beside her, as she stares at Kah with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
As Kah moves closer, the figure becomes clearer. A child, just on the cusp of her teenage years. She has pale blonde hair, tightly braided in two long strands that seem to hold every strand in place, as if trying to keep something contained, something that might otherwise spill free. Her appearance is delicate, fragile, but theres an unfamiliar tension in the way she holds herself, crouched low to the ground.
Her small hands move frantically as she traces a circle in the snow, her fingertip sweeping the same path over and over again, a repetitive motion that seems almost ritualistic. The circle she draws is imperfect, jagged in places, but she doesnt seem to care, lost in the rhythm of it. Her eyes remain unfocused, locked somewhere into the empty space before her, while her mouth continues to work in a steady stream of gibberish.
As Kah gets closer, the nature of her speech becomes clearer. It's not just a random spattering of sounds, but a single, continuous run of words, tumbling over each other in a long, disjointed sentence. Its as if shes speaking faster than her mind can process, unable to stop the flow of words that seem to make no sense, each one slurring into the next. The sound of her voice grows louder as she continues, but its still impossible to make out any distinct meaning in her rapid chatter.
As her eyes flick upward, they lock onto the man's figure, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze. The rapid gibberish halts abruptly, as if her mouth and mind have caught on the sudden shock of his presence. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark contrast to the frantic noise that had filled the air just moments before. Startled by the sight of him, she loses her balance, her small body toppling backward onto the snow with a soft thud. She lands awkwardly, her wide eyes fixed on him in stunned silence, her breath coming in shallow, almost panicked gasps. The circle she had been tracing on the ground is forgotten, her hand now resting limply in the snow beside her, as she stares at Kah with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
Unable to decide exactly what to do, Kah turns his gaze a moment longer, searching for that splash of color but then the sound of that roaring silence that comes heavy on the air now as that chanting of sorts comes to an abrupt halt. As the small child-like being falls backward Kah watches them with suspicion. He creeps closer, more to the ground than he is standing on his two feet, the urge to shift into his wolven form close to the surface. He's uncertain if this will help or hinder, not certain he can communicate with the child (or not) befoe him. Still, there's no telling exactly what's going on without sticking his muzzle into the badger's den. "What are you doing here?" his voice comes in English, soft-spoken and carried by a baritone melody that gives his voice a lyrical quality.
"Who... who are you?" The girls voice is small, tremulous, as she blinks up at Kah, her wide eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition. She looks around her with confusion, as if trying to piece together her surroundings, her gaze unfocused and distant. "Where am I?" Her words are quiet, almost whispered, as if speaking any louder might disrupt the fragile hold she has on reality. She draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly, her small form trembling. Slowly, she begins rocking back and forth, her movements rhythmic, but not in a comforting way, more like a desperate attempt to soothe herself, to find some grounding in the chaos of her mind.
"I can't sleep, they hurt me... it hurts when I sleep," she murmurs in a soft, broken voice, repeating the words over and over as if saying them might bring some sort of relief. The motion of her rocking disturbs the snowflakes around her, sending them swirling in the cold air. But it's the strange, unsettling repetition of her words that fills the space, a quiet echo in the night. As he observes the girl, Kah may notice the faint, dried streaks of red around her nostrils. Blood. Its subtle at first, easy to overlook in the chaos of the moment, but the more Kah observes, the clearer it becomes. Theres no mistaking it now. The blood is fresh, though its been left unnoticed, trailing down from her nose and staining the snow beneath her.
"Who hurts you?" Kah can't stop himself from asking. The scent of blood on the air, mixing with the crisp and cold calls to the lupine side of his soul and he stalks forward half with the intention of investigating a little more closely, and half with the intent of zeroing in on potential prey without even meaning to take that approach. His eyes watch carefully, looking at that blood and how fresh it is; how the girl doesn't seem to notice. His eyes shift cautiously, glancing around himself as if something might now pop up out of the woods to attack them. Who knows, with these forests? "You are ..in Haven" he claims, the name sounding a little strange still on his lips. "I am Kah" he finally says, giving his name as he awaits an answer to the girl's fear. "Are you asleep now?" Two questions, to wait for then.
"I'm always asleep," the girl sniffles, her voice trembling as she wipes the back of her hand across her nose, the blood smearing slightly as she does so. Her small, fragile form seems utterly vulnerable in that moment, her words carrying a quiet weight of something far darker. She shivers slightly, as if the cold doesn't quite match the chill creeping into her thoughts.
"That's what they tell me. They're..." She pauses, her expression shifting into one of anxiety. Her eyes flicker toward Kah, a look of fear crossing her face, as if the words shes about to say might make everything worse. Her gaze seems almost pleading, as though shes unsure whether she should continue, but the compulsion to share it outweighs her hesitation. "They're in here," she finally whispers, tapping her finger lightly to the side of her head, her eyes fixed on him as if waiting for his response. The finger moves stubbornly, pressing into one of her braids as if trying to keep something hidden, but its clear that her mind is somewhere else, far away from this present moment. Without warning, her fingers drop to the ground, and she resumes tracing the same circle in the snow, her hand moving in repetitive, almost mechanical motions, her gaze unfocused as she returns to the strange ritual. The world around her seems to fade once again, her mind caught in a loop of her own creation, disconnected from the reality that Kah stands in front of her. The only other words she manages are a whispered, "What's a Haven?"
With another slow blink, Kah tries to think that through. Doing so, he turns to glance around them a little more acutely. He's not neccesarily a stranger to the realm of Dreams, his own finding their way through their own sense of evolution in recent weeks but his eyes search for .. small things that might be missing. The small things that don't matter in the illusion of the Dream, and he slowly moves toward the girl that's begun to re-draw that circle in the snow in front of her. He can't yet decide if the way the world fades around her is a good thing for bad thing for her in this manner, but he seems to generate some sense of theory as to what's happening now. With a frown he tries to approach as closely as he can to the child. "It is a place in the world where these things are not disregarded so easily." His tone suggests he very much believes what the girl says to him. Taking the risk he tries to reach out, to stop her hand from it's repetative motions. "What does this accomplish? If you are always asleep, then this is not keeping you awake."
"I've been trying to be awake, mister, really," the girl insists, her voice cracking with a rawness that betrays the fragile state she's in. Despite the unnerving way she behaves, her eyes well up with tears, her entire demeanor now filled with a desperate sorrow. "I can't wake up. I want to wake up!" The words tumble out in a rushed, panicked whisper, as if the very act of speaking them might somehow make them true.
Her gaze falls to the circle shes been tracing, her fingers continuing their mindless motion, the snow beneath her slowly becoming a pattern of endless repetition. Her face is dazed, almost as if she's trapped within a cycle she cant break free from. "It just keeps repeating. It all keeps repeating," she murmurs, her words heavy with a sense of foreboding. There's something ominous in her tone, as if the repetition itself carries a dark weight, a sense of inevitability that she cannot escape. Kah reaches out to stop her fingers, to break the cycle shes locked in, and the moment his hand touches hers, the motion halts. For a brief moment, the world seems to shift. The girls body stiffens, her eyes blinking rapidly as though she's suddenly being pulled back into the present. The haze lifts slightly from her expression, and she looks up at Kah with an odd, startled clarity. "Enos says Im stuck here," she says, her voice now dark, almost hollow.
That's enough of a confirmation for Kah and he seems to make some kind of choice. His hand clasps against the girl's as his eyes study the girl's face. "Who is that?" He asks, trying to keep a sense of nervousness from his voice. "And what comes next?" He almost whispers, before he's turning his attention once again to his surroundings. "What is your name?" ANothewr question comes, and the large man can't decide what to do next. Leaving the dream is something that by rights should have happened by now even, realizing the nature of the world around him. But ..
Waiting for the answers to his next question Kah's looking for something now that will give him clue to the way forward, or the way out.
"Enos is up here," the girl mutters, tapping the side of her head again with the fingertip of her free hand, her eyes distant and clouded with confusion. "He says this is what I get for trying to run away." Her words hang heavy in the air, each one laced with a sadness that cuts through the cold. She frowns, her face scrunching as she sniffles, and the back of her hand wipes across her face, brushing away the tears that she doesnt seem fully aware of. Despite the clarity in her words, her eyes remain hollow, as if something vital inside her has already slipped away. A faint trace of blood, still visible on her hand, marks her skin as she begins tracing yet another circle in the snow. Her fingers move with a strange, mechanical precision, the motion repetitive, almost like a compulsion. She doesn't seem to notice the blood on her hand, or the fact that she's drawn the same circle over and over. Its as if her body is acting without her conscious permission, trapped in an involuntary movement, a prisoner to something outside of her control, like a sleepwalker caught in a nightmare. "He says I don deserve to wake up," she continues, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and helplessness. "Hes going to keep me here, and he says Ill always wonder whats a dream and what isnt."
"Renee," comes the sudden word moments later, piercing through the otherwise silent moment.
With a snort of derision, even in this state ... Kah finds it hard to place himself beneath the mere conjurings of a girl's mind. But that only lasts a few moments as he remembers the strength of the Fae's dreams and fancies and his lips press together in a sudden sense of seriousness and danger. His mind sharpens, forcing itself to cut through the fog so he can try to envision the doorway in front of him. This is what he focuses on now, that doorway that he begins to try and force into existance with the determination of his mind. By imaginaing it there, by DREAMING that it is there, leading back to the world of the waking and the living, somewhere out there the real forests of Haven reside, and that only makes it more difficult to try and focus on the matter. If he can succeed, he'll turn toward the girl with a firm sense of authority he'll offer out his hand and for a moment he's unconcerned with his own weakness - it's forgotten and so here in the dream it slips away from him. "Take my hand." He can only wait so long, but he'll try to push at Fate. Perhapos all she needs is for someone to take her from this place. He has a vague memory of using something similar some forgotten skill against his enemies in the past ... a past that slips away as fluid as everything else is here.,
As Kah concentrates, his attention is drawn to something flickering just behind the girl, something barely perceptible at first. The shimmer of the air ripples like the surface of disturbed water, and suddenly, a doorway materializes. Its outline is faint, shimmering in and out of focus, but the golden knob gleams unmistakably, casting a soft glow in the surrounding darkness. The image feels fragile, as though it could vanish with the slightest shift in attention, but it lingers for a heartbeat longer.
The girl, her eyes wide with fear, notices it too. Her small form instinctively pulls back, her gaze darting nervously between Kah and the doorway. "He'll kill me!" she exclaims, her voice trembling with panic, as if the very thought of the door, of the thing that could lead her somewhere else, is too dangerous to entertain. Her breath catches in her throat, and her hands tighten around her knees once more.
But then, as if drawn by an invisible pull, her eyes shift back to the doorway, the golden knob catching the light. A trace of awe flickers across her face as she whispers, "Thats pretty." Her voice softens, almost mesmerized by the gleam of the knob, as if shes seeing something beautiful for the first time in what feels like forever. Without warning, her small hand slips from her knees and into Kah's, her touch tentative but firm, as if seeking reassurance, as though that simple gesture of connection might anchor her in a world she no longer understands. The weight of her grip is light, fragile, but theres an undeniable trust in her fingers, as if she's reaching for safety in a place where everything else seems uncertain.
It might not be safe where he's taking her, now. It might be the worst thing he could do for this girl, but the idea of her caged here, not even in the world of the living but in her own mind and her own dreams. That kind of captivity more than ever comes as unacceptable fate to the mind of Kah and his hand tightens around the fingers of the girl. "Then open it" he says. Maybe it's because he wants her to be the one to free herself from the place as he continues to focus most sharply on the destination that lies behind that doorway, and the gleaming golden knob - that keeps the door anchorewd in place. Perhaps he knows somewhere that it might be her that HAS to break herself free from a loop like this. He'll wait, but only so long. If she cannot bring herself to reach for that doorknob, he will himself, showing her how easy it CAN be - "A better fate awaits you" he says to her, ushering her through the threshold. "Any fate is better than this one."
The girl's grip tightens around Kah's hand, her fingers pressing into his with a quiet urgency. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of fear and determination, and her braids snap backward as she suddenly turns to face him, her face flushed with the intensity of the moment. "You have to come with me!" she insists, her voice sharp and insistent, a desperate plea wrapped in the innocence of a child who knows that whatever lies beyond the doorway is the only escape she believes she has.
Without waiting for an answer, she tugs at him, her small body straining with the pull as her other hand slowly reaches toward the gleaming golden knob. Theres a strange sense of finality in the way she moves, as if she knows what shes doing, as if she's been here before, and the doorway is the only way out. Her fingers close around the knob, and with a quiet twist, she begins to turn it. The air around them feels charged, as if something immense is about to happen, but just before the door fully opens, the girl glances back over her shoulder at Kah. Her face softens, a brief, almost fleeting smile curving her lips, so small, so fragile, yet filled with a glimmer of hope or perhaps resignation. In that instant, the door seems to beckon, and she pulls harder, her small frame all but dragging him toward the threshold.
With a quiet, almost wistful exhale, she steps forward, as though ready to step into whatever waits on the other side, her fingers still clutching his as she tugs him closer to the doorway, to the unknown.
The second narrative unfolds with Kah, a figure deeply woven into the supernatural fabric of Haven, as he steps through the threshold from the Wilds into a chilling scene marked by the remnants of an unnerving presence. His encounter with a child, lost within the confines of her own mind and trapped in a cycle of fear and repetition, draws him into a realm that blurs the lines between dreams and waking life. The girl, Renee, ensconced in her own torment and held captive by a dark figure known only as "Enos," finds in Kah an unexpected anchor to the world she seeks to return to. Together, they stand before a doorway that promises escape or perhaps deeper entanglement in the mysteries that bind her. In a moment charged with fragile hope, they step through the doorway, leaving behind the shadows of their encounter, embarking into the uncertain embrace of what lies beyond, each carrying the weight of their exchange and the unanswered questions it leaves in its wake.
(Isolde's odd encounter(SRKah):SRKah)
[Tue Dec 17 2024]
Before Trove Barcade
A simple cobblestone paved path cuts across a pristine green lawn as it leads towards the entrance of the Barcade. On either side of the path, wooden barrels serve as rustic planters for a variety of colorful, exotic flowers.
The facade, a charming blend of rustic timber and weathered brick, is adorned with a large, neon sign that spells out "The Trove". The front doors, made of heavy, aged wood, are flanked by two large, brass lanterns.
It is after dusk, about 33F(0C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Isolde leaves the Trove with a heavy walk. She is, as is the fashion, dressed in 'I have been a car wreck this morning and there has been no convenience to change.'
And, in the fashion of such desires, there is a volume from The Trove that Isolde leaves.
Isolde tentatively presses her fingers against the back of her head, feeling for a lump that the preternatural blood of Dreams has reduced to a mere nightmare.
The downtown street is alive with the usual hustle and bustle: the rhythmic clatter of footsteps on pavement, the hum of conversations blending together, and the occasional honk of a car navigating the nearby streets. Food trucks vie for control of the small town streets, each sending wafts of mouthwatering aromas into the air - tacos, barbecue, and freshly brewed coffee. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow, creating a tapestry of light and shadow across the open square where people gather to relax and socialize. Suddenly, a commotion breaks the usual flow of activity. A young man, his face pale and eyes wide with terror, bursts into the center of the street. His clothes are rumpled, and his hair looks as if he's been frantically running his hands through it. He stops, looking around wildly, his breathing ragged and uneven.
"Did you see that?" he yells, his voice shaking with fear. "Did anyone else see that?" His words hang in the air, unanswered, as people begin to turn and stare, curiosity and concern etched on their faces. The man's hands tremble as he clutches at his chest, trying to steady himself. "It was real," he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. "I know what I saw. It was real." His eyes are wide with a mixture of disbelief and horror, his mind struggling to process the reality of what he's witnessed.
A few bystanders cautiously approach, offering words of comfort and questions of concern, but the man recoils, his fear palpable. "Stay away!" he shouts, his voice rising in pitch. "You don't understand! It's out there, and it's coming for us!" His words send a ripple of unease through the crowd, and murmurs of alarm begin to spread. His gaze locks onto an alleyway between two buildings, his eyes narrowing as if he expects something to emerge from the shadows at any moment. "I saw it," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "A creature... not of this world. It had eyes like fire and claws that could tear through steel." He shudders at the memory, his body trembling with the intensity of his fear. As more people gather, the man's panic escalates. "We have to do something!" he pleads, his voice cracking. "We can't just stand here and wait for it to come for us. We have to fight back!" His desperation is evident, and a sense of urgency begins to take hold of the crowd.
"Please," he begs, his eyes scanning the faces around him, seeking someone who might believe him. "You have to believe me. It's real. It's all real." His voice wavers with emotion, and tears start to stream down his face. "I don't want to die," he whispers, his terror giving way to a deep, primal fear. The once mellow street has now become a scene of tension and uncertainty. The man's frantic pleas and wild-eyed terror cast a shadow over the square, leaving the onlookers grappling with the sudden and shocking revelation that their world may not be as safe and predictable as they once believed. As the man continues to cry out for help, his voice growing hoarse from the strain, the crowd shifts uneasily. Some people exchange nervous glances, while others keep their eyes fixed on the alleyway, half-expecting something sinister to emerge from the darkness. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of impending danger, and the crowd is left wondering what, if anything, they can do to protect themselves from the unknown threat. Witnessing this, Isolde knows that the stakes of such a thing could be dire if too much happens too publicly. And there's nobody else around to deal with it tonight. Will she? Or will she continue walking, letting fate decide the man's next minutes?
Isolde lets a tired expression sit on her face.
Isolde steps forward, surgical mask hiding the better part of her face- the part without bags. Sticking her hands in the kangaroo pouch, she steps up to give voice to doubt, "You are, like, a little far from deadwood, 'dude." The word doesn't sound right from her lips, which aids in its perceived judgment.
Isolde says "How about, like, we go into Trove or something if you are feeling unsafe? Talk?"
The man who's approached by Isolde is having none of it at the moment. His eyes are still glued to the alleyway and that muttering never ceases, this man is a crazy-looking person as he's pacing back and forth and creating a scene in the middle of the street. "What?! No! Get away from me, it's coming you'll see!" His trembling hand lifts to point out toward the alleyway at the other side of the street. This one happens to slip between the Trove and whatever buildings sit next to it, some run-down half of a bar, or other dilapitated buildings that are strewn about this end of town. However, the look of Isolde seems a little more stable or less unnerved than everyone else around and that seems to calm the man down a hair, at least. "Go where?" HE asks, his face suddenly showing a fearful expression.
Isolde jerks her head casually to the Trove Barcade, simply the BEST place to take your child to steer into the onset of a gambling addiction! "Bar. People inside. Unless, like.. You are just wanting to freak out in the middle of the street?"
Isolde glances at everyone else. "I mean, like, it is late at night and town has a dog problem. But, like.."
Isolde says "No one should walk alone at night? Maybe you are a guy and just don't get that. Just go into the Bar and think before you start throwing up."
The mere mention of the town having a 'dog problem' is enough to see a healthy number of those watchful bystanders suddenly realize they have things to do and places to see and many of them are very conspicuously wandering off now and the crowd thins out. With a blink, the man seems to have to focus on Isolde to really pay attention to what she's saying because he's far and away distracted by the delusions or truths that are assaulting his mind with newly opened eyes. As the inital shock wears off however, Isolde will find that in that state the man isn't that hard to herd like a docile sheep and with some verbal prodding and nudging she's able to put the man in a beeline toward the Trove's entrance. Will Isolde accompany him, now? Or leave the others milling about inside the place to deal with the newfound trouble? Who knows what will happen if he starts spouting out this nonsense in the middle of a crowded place with throwing axes?
Isolde tugs the man towards the arcade cabinets. The air is polarizing; tired contempt on a well kept face, yet wearing a hoodie tears and powdered glass. "I rolled my car this morning." She provides at some point. She puts a ten dollar bill into an exchange counter for old tickets, and tiptoes to speak into his ear to speak over the noise of arcade cabinets and general ruckus. "We're taking a photo booth and then we will talk, okay?"
The man himself is mostly just walking along at this point, fearful expression easy for anyone to see. The place is bustling in some fashions, a blond and some purple-ahired woman in the back throwing axes, and some lanky long-armed fellow murmuring with some other chick across the way and leaving the bar unmanned. The tickets are enough to get them into the photobooth of course, and once inside, Isolde is blanketed by the minimal illusion of privacy created by the flimsy black curtinas that pull closed to create separation in the booth from the rest of the barcade.
Isolde ducks inside, shuffling to make room in the seat. She plays with the interface in front of her, shuffling through filters that sell to the audience a super imposed comedy of stickers rather than the commercial replacement of Instagram filters.
Isolde says "Okay. You are good speaker. Talk, oh- and like, remember to smile."
The man seems to take a minute or two to come out of his reverie. He's blinking in surprise at first, the woman next to him casually feeding in money to get pictures from the booth while telling him to spill out what he's seen. The biggest difference seems to be that she's the first person to not immediately look at the fellow like he's completely crazy. "I .. " his eyes grow wide, paranoia coming through his expression but eventually he chooses to speak. "I saw it" he says to her, his voice hoarse from the yelling and the shouting from before. "Firey eyes that smoked! Claws ripping through the wall next to me! It's coming for us!" His voice begins to raise, and Isolde has to re-calm him down to avoid drawing too much attention to them. IT sounds like something #Isolde may have seen before. Some of the things in the NIghtmare - they try to pull and rip themselves free from the shadows that envelop them. Perhaps it's htis that he saw.
"Hm." Isolde mumbles neutrally, settling on a filter that says in big yellow font GOOD JOB.
You go, girl.
"Well, look, if something is coming for us we will hear screams first - and like, right now you are with cute girl and getting a picture taken. If you don't smile, I am getting upset." She leans against him and holds smile for the camera. It drops into a placcid scowl when she doesn't like what's reflected back to her. She looks at him in the image as she speaks, "look. You saw it, okay. It was terrible, probably. But you are not asking questions you are just stating things like they are going to happen. So what? You said it was coming for everyone. Why? What did I do to it? It's not coming for me that's just dumb."
Isolde begins to empty her pockets of a water solution and white makeup pads, and begins to remove her makeup in the reflection.
The young man takes a deep breath, his eyes still wide with fear as he begins to recount the terrifying encounter. "It was just past noon," he starts, his voice trembling. "I was walking home through the park, the one with all the old oaks and the narrow path that cuts through the woods. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and I had this feeling that something wasn't right. I heard rustling in the bushes, but I thought it was just a stray cat or a raccoon." His hands tremble as he continues, "But then, out of nowhere, this creature emerged. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. It had these glowing eyes - bright, fiery orange, like embers in a fire. They pierced through the darkness and locked onto me, and I felt this wave of dread wash over me. I couldn't move, couldn't even scream. I was paralyzed with fear." He shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory. "The creature was massive, towering over me even from a distance. Its body was covered in what looked like scales, dark and shimmering, with a texture almost like molten metal. It moved with this unnatural grace, gliding through the shadows without making a sound. And its claws... they were long, razor-sharp, and glinted menacingly in the faint light. I could see them tearing through anything in their path with ease."
The young man's voice cracks as he recalls more details. "It had this elongated face, almost reptilian, but with an otherworldly quality. Its mouth was filled with rows of sharp teeth, and when it opened its jaws, I could see a flicker of blue flame deep within its throat. The air around it seemed to distort, like heat waves rising from hot pavement. It was as if the creature itself was a living furnace, exuding an aura of raw, primal power." He clenches his fists, the fear still evident in his eyes. "It started to advance towards me, slow and deliberate, as if it was toying with me. I finally found the strength to move and stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet in my desperation to get away. I don't know how, but I managed to scramble to my feet and run. I didn't look back, but I could feel its presence, like a burning weight on my back."
His voice grows quieter, filled with a mixture of relief and lingering terror. "I ran until I couldn't run anymore, until I reached the edge of the park and saw the lights of the town. I thought I was safe, but now... now I don't know. That thing is out there, and it knows I saw it. I can still feel its eyes on me, even now. Its real, and its out there, lurking in the shadows." Whatever this thing is that the man describes, it's definitely not something normal from the Nightmare, Isolde can determine that easy enough. Then to her active question, he takes a shuddered breath and tries to smile for the camera. The picture comes out horrible, the man just LOOKS like he's being held hostage, but it might make for a great proof of life photograph! "I can't say why. I just ... I felt like it wanted to burn the whole world! All of us ... it's out there." His voice returns to a whisper, trying to grasp at whatever his subconscious holds onto that gives him this sense of foreboding doom.
Isolde snickers at the photo, holding the bangs back from her face to exult in full glory. She bumps her head against the man. "Isn't this funny?"
She sighs in content of the moment. "Okay. I will be a tiny little honest with you? The world is dangerous. There are things you don't know about, but that's always been true. There are monsters, but like, your situation on being eaten or whatever isn't any more dangerous than it was being eaten by the rich." She dabbles her face with a towelette. "You're not in danger right now, okay? You probably not dangerous later either."
Isolde says "You stand the same chance against what you saw as a wild bear, which is, like, no chance. Other people are taking care of it, so, like, pfft.."
Isolde says "I am sharing this picture with a friend, okay?"
There's a long bout of silence that comes from the man as Isolde kind of rambles on and dumps information on him. But perhaps that bit of overload is just the ticket, or at least the woman's plan. It leaves him more or less MORE in shock than he was before, hearing someone validate his sighting and tell him it IS all true. And then tell him he should most likely ignore it and pretend everything is fine if he wants to live a long and healthy life. He just nods his head dumbly at the request from Isolde before his voice comes stuttering out after a fashion. "W-what should I Do?" The question is a bit redundant of course, but his mind can come up with little else. Attempts to look the man up via the picturer of his face or through other alternative means will bring up a rather mundane man with a rather mundane life. Isolde will claim some personal sense of satisfaction though. He's a columnist, writing gossip columns for local newspapers both here and in Boston.
Isolde sinks into her seat in the stance of the contemplative delinquent. "The more you talk about these things the more, like, people will notice. So just don't. Like, it is terrifying and you will never forget it, but so is war - seriously, it sucks." Her tone doesn't look like she knows, but her eyes do.
She pats the man's leg. "Okay, move. I need to get out. It's dark and I am needing to get home."
The man does just that, moving more out of finding it easier to follow the instruction than to decide for himself. Isolde will clamber out of the photo booth and thankfully things in the place have quieted down. A few people still hang about but there's mostly couples in booths or having quiet convertsations as the sun's gone down and the night air has settled in all cold and chilly. Fairly certain she's done her best to keep this man from running off at the mouth, Isolde can leave safely and on to the rest of her day's business. Because in this town? Things are never done.
OOC: Thank you for participating! If you need a summon when you head down please let me know!
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with helping to cure someone's insanity by delving into their mind with dream invading to solve the issues keeping them from sanity.
)
Kah is stepping through the gate that leads toward Haven's woods and city limits from the Wilds realm where he and his pack often stay as of late. The cold air cuts through the relatively scant protection his clothing provides and the large bronzed man gives a rare shiver down his spine from the cut of the chill into his skin and bones.
Snow swirls across the ground in Haven, the chill of winter gripping the landscape with an icy hand. The trees, stripped almost bare, stand like silent sentinels, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind, which whistles through them in eerie gusts. The night is thick with darkness, amplifying the stillness, making everything feel quieter than it really is. Out near the gate, where the world seems to narrow and isolate, the silence weighs heavier. There's something unsettling about the air tonight, a subtle unease that creeps beneath the skin, as if the very night itself holds its breath. The usual sounds of the world feel distant, muffled, and all that remains is the haunting whisper of the wind and the cold.
Stepping through the gate, Kah immediately feels the absence of warmth, as if the very air has turned against him. The cold seeps into his bones, a sharp reminder of the harsh winter that has taken hold. As he looks down, his eyes catch something unusual in the snowa faint trail of tracks, barely visible beneath the snow that has settled in the scattered patches of foliage. The tracks are small, almost delicate, and the pattern they form seems erratic, as if the creature that left them was stumbling or moving in an unpredictable way. The snow, blown by the wind, has only added to the disarray, giving the tracks a haphazard, almost drunken appearance.
The temperature is so low that it stings the skin with each breath. Inhaling the bitter air is almost painful, the cold seizing the lungs with a sharp bite, but it doesn't stop Kah from trying to catch a scent. Every inhale feels like it cuts through him, leaving an almost metallic taste in the back of his throat as he concentrates on the traces of whatever passed through here. Something feels wrong about this night, and the tracks only add to the growing sense of unease in the air.
A sudden sound cuts through the silence, piercing the stillness of the night. It's unsettling, an eerie, twisted mixture of a laugh and a squeal that echoes off the trees. The sound is jarring, out of place, and it seems to come from somewhere nearby, just beyond the edge of the gate. Not from the road or the open air, but from the depths of the trees, where the shadows cling thick and heavy.
The noise is strange, disjointed, as if the very essence of it is warped, half-formed in some nightmarish way. Its too close for comfort, too immediate to ignore. With no wind in the moment, and in the unnatural stillness, the echoes of that twisted sound seem to hang in the air, lingering and unsettling. Something stirs in the darkness ahead.
A pang of uncertainty comes through Kah. His instincts drive him to take steps forward and his mind begins to push the cold aside from his thoughts, even as it bites into his lungs with each slowly drawn breath. Metallic ...the scent of some kind of blood on the air? It stirs the animal within and before he can decide to be wise instead of Kah, he's on the move. His body is gaunt, but he moves with determination. Almost a forward lean to the way he lopes and runs, he at least knows the trees here well, roaming them often in the past and he relies on that knowledge more than his reflexes and his strength now. As the snowy trees begin to pass him, his mind turns to the risks that come with pursuing something like this, but that gets pushed away as easily as the cold - are the laughter and the squealing one and the same? It's hard to tell, but trying his best to catch the scent, he'll follow it, no doubt stark against the crisp cold smell of snow.
The faintest traces of a scent hang in the air, almost imperceptible, mingling with the biting cold. It's there, just on the edge of perception, drawing Kah's attention as he begins to move, following the unsettling noise. The twisted laughter and squealing that had echoed moments before now shifts into a disjointed stream of gibberish, its incoherence making the air feel thicker with unease.
Not far from where he stepped through the gate, someone sharp eyes catch sight of somethinga figure crouched low behind one of the towering trees. Shes small, almost childlike, suggesting youth, though the way she holds herself is strange. Her posture is odd, hunched in a way that doesnt seem natural, as if shes squatting to hide, though there's nowhere to truly conceal herself. Its clear that her gaze is fixed somewhere in the empty air, her lips moving rapidly as she talks to... nothing. To the wind, to the shadows, to something invisible that only she can see.
The sight is jarring. It doesnt make sensethis tiny girl, so absorbed in her strange conversation, seems to be utterly unaware of the towering figure of Kah just a short distance away. The gibberish continues, her voice high-pitched and erratic, creating a surreal and unsettling contrast against the backdrop of the cold, silent night.
As Kah moves closer, a flicker of red, stark and out of place against the pure white of the snow, becomes visible. Its a splash of color that stands out in the dim light, drawing his gaze like a beacon. The red is not much, but it's enough to catch his eye, perhaps a piece of cloth, a stain, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it has fallen onto the snow, leaving a trail of crimson against the unforgiving white landscape, as if it were an unnatural stain in the night.
The faintest traces of a scent hang in the air, almost imperceptible, mingling with the biting cold. It's there, just on the edge of perception, drawing Kah's attention as he begins to move, following the unsettling noise. The twisted laughter and squealing that had echoed moments before now shifts into a disjointed stream of gibberish, its incoherence making the air feel thicker with unease.
Not far from where he stepped through the gate, Kah's sharp eyes catch sight of somethinga figure crouched low behind one of the towering trees. Shes small, almost childlike, suggesting youth, though the way she holds herself is strange. Her posture is odd, hunched in a way that doesnt seem natural, as if shes squatting to hide, though there's nowhere to truly conceal herself. Its clear that her gaze is fixed somewhere in the empty air, her lips moving rapidly as she talks to... nothing. To the wind, to the shadows, to something invisible that only she can see.
The sight is jarring. It doesnt make sensethis tiny girl, so absorbed in her strange conversation, seems to be utterly unaware of the towering figure of Kah just a short distance away. The gibberish continues, her voice high-pitched and erratic, creating a surreal and unsettling contrast against the backdrop of the cold, silent night.
As Kah moves closer, a flicker of red, stark and out of place against the pure white of the snow, becomes visible. Its a splash of color that stands out in the dim light, drawing his gaze like a beacon. The red is not much, but it's enough to catch his eye, perhaps a piece of cloth, a stain, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it has fallen onto the snow, leaving a trail of crimson against the unforgiving white landscape, as if it were an unnatural stain in the night.
The vibrant splash of color continues to draw Kah's attention and it's unnerving, perhaps not quite like the feel of magic grating against his skin or fur but the gibberish seems as jarring to him to hear as it is to try and understand. His eyes flicker between following that sense of crimson and the child even as he crouches himself. His own crouch doesn't seem meant to hide but it's more of a comfort thing. Almost one could expect the man himself to lope forward on his knukles like a beast the way he prowls forth using his hands and arms to guide him as much as his visual senses now. A slow blink comes, as the fog of his mind pushes back at him as he tries to make sense of the situation that has perhaps no sense to find.
As Kah moves closer, the figure becomes clearer. A child, just on the cusp of her teenage years. She has pale blonde hair, tightly braided in two long strands that seem to hold every strand in place, as if trying to keep something contained, something that might otherwise spill free. Her appearance is delicate, fragile, but theres an unfamiliar tension in the way she holds herself, crouched low to the ground.
Her small hands move frantically as she traces a circle in the snow, her fingertip sweeping the same path over and over again, a repetitive motion that seems almost ritualistic. The circle she draws is imperfect, jagged in places, but she doesnt seem to care, lost in the rhythm of it. Her eyes remain unfocused, locked somewhere into the empty space before her, while her mouth continues to work in a steady stream of gibberish.
As Kah gets closer, the nature of her speech becomes clearer. It's not just a random spattering of sounds, but a single, continuous run of words, tumbling over each other in a long, disjointed sentence. Its as if shes speaking faster than her mind can process, unable to stop the flow of words that seem to make no sense, each one slurring into the next. The sound of her voice grows louder as she continues, but its still impossible to make out any distinct meaning in her rapid chatter.
As her eyes flick upward, they lock onto someone figure, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze. The rapid gibberish halts abruptly, as if her mouth and mind have caught on the sudden shock of his presence. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark contrast to the frantic noise that had filled the air just moments before. Startled by the sight of him, she loses her balance, her small body toppling backward onto the snow with a soft thud. She lands awkwardly, her wide eyes fixed on him in stunned silence, her breath coming in shallow, almost panicked gasps. The circle she had been tracing on the ground is forgotten, her hand now resting limply in the snow beside her, as she stares at Kah with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
As Kah moves closer, the figure becomes clearer. A child, just on the cusp of her teenage years. She has pale blonde hair, tightly braided in two long strands that seem to hold every strand in place, as if trying to keep something contained, something that might otherwise spill free. Her appearance is delicate, fragile, but theres an unfamiliar tension in the way she holds herself, crouched low to the ground.
Her small hands move frantically as she traces a circle in the snow, her fingertip sweeping the same path over and over again, a repetitive motion that seems almost ritualistic. The circle she draws is imperfect, jagged in places, but she doesnt seem to care, lost in the rhythm of it. Her eyes remain unfocused, locked somewhere into the empty space before her, while her mouth continues to work in a steady stream of gibberish.
As Kah gets closer, the nature of her speech becomes clearer. It's not just a random spattering of sounds, but a single, continuous run of words, tumbling over each other in a long, disjointed sentence. Its as if shes speaking faster than her mind can process, unable to stop the flow of words that seem to make no sense, each one slurring into the next. The sound of her voice grows louder as she continues, but its still impossible to make out any distinct meaning in her rapid chatter.
As her eyes flick upward, they lock onto the man's figure, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze. The rapid gibberish halts abruptly, as if her mouth and mind have caught on the sudden shock of his presence. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark contrast to the frantic noise that had filled the air just moments before. Startled by the sight of him, she loses her balance, her small body toppling backward onto the snow with a soft thud. She lands awkwardly, her wide eyes fixed on him in stunned silence, her breath coming in shallow, almost panicked gasps. The circle she had been tracing on the ground is forgotten, her hand now resting limply in the snow beside her, as she stares at Kah with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
Unable to decide exactly what to do, Kah turns his gaze a moment longer, searching for that splash of color but then the sound of that roaring silence that comes heavy on the air now as that chanting of sorts comes to an abrupt halt. As the small child-like being falls backward Kah watches them with suspicion. He creeps closer, more to the ground than he is standing on his two feet, the urge to shift into his wolven form close to the surface. He's uncertain if this will help or hinder, not certain he can communicate with the child (or not) befoe him. Still, there's no telling exactly what's going on without sticking his muzzle into the badger's den. "What are you doing here?" his voice comes in English, soft-spoken and carried by a baritone melody that gives his voice a lyrical quality.
"Who... who are you?" The girls voice is small, tremulous, as she blinks up at Kah, her wide eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition. She looks around her with confusion, as if trying to piece together her surroundings, her gaze unfocused and distant. "Where am I?" Her words are quiet, almost whispered, as if speaking any louder might disrupt the fragile hold she has on reality. She draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly, her small form trembling. Slowly, she begins rocking back and forth, her movements rhythmic, but not in a comforting way, more like a desperate attempt to soothe herself, to find some grounding in the chaos of her mind.
"I can't sleep, they hurt me... it hurts when I sleep," she murmurs in a soft, broken voice, repeating the words over and over as if saying them might bring some sort of relief. The motion of her rocking disturbs the snowflakes around her, sending them swirling in the cold air. But it's the strange, unsettling repetition of her words that fills the space, a quiet echo in the night. As he observes the girl, Kah may notice the faint, dried streaks of red around her nostrils. Blood. Its subtle at first, easy to overlook in the chaos of the moment, but the more Kah observes, the clearer it becomes. Theres no mistaking it now. The blood is fresh, though its been left unnoticed, trailing down from her nose and staining the snow beneath her.
"Who hurts you?" Kah can't stop himself from asking. The scent of blood on the air, mixing with the crisp and cold calls to the lupine side of his soul and he stalks forward half with the intention of investigating a little more closely, and half with the intent of zeroing in on potential prey without even meaning to take that approach. His eyes watch carefully, looking at that blood and how fresh it is; how the girl doesn't seem to notice. His eyes shift cautiously, glancing around himself as if something might now pop up out of the woods to attack them. Who knows, with these forests? "You are ..in Haven" he claims, the name sounding a little strange still on his lips. "I am Kah" he finally says, giving his name as he awaits an answer to the girl's fear. "Are you asleep now?" Two questions, to wait for then.
"I'm always asleep," the girl sniffles, her voice trembling as she wipes the back of her hand across her nose, the blood smearing slightly as she does so. Her small, fragile form seems utterly vulnerable in that moment, her words carrying a quiet weight of something far darker. She shivers slightly, as if the cold doesn't quite match the chill creeping into her thoughts.
"That's what they tell me. They're..." She pauses, her expression shifting into one of anxiety. Her eyes flicker toward Kah, a look of fear crossing her face, as if the words shes about to say might make everything worse. Her gaze seems almost pleading, as though shes unsure whether she should continue, but the compulsion to share it outweighs her hesitation. "They're in here," she finally whispers, tapping her finger lightly to the side of her head, her eyes fixed on him as if waiting for his response. The finger moves stubbornly, pressing into one of her braids as if trying to keep something hidden, but its clear that her mind is somewhere else, far away from this present moment. Without warning, her fingers drop to the ground, and she resumes tracing the same circle in the snow, her hand moving in repetitive, almost mechanical motions, her gaze unfocused as she returns to the strange ritual. The world around her seems to fade once again, her mind caught in a loop of her own creation, disconnected from the reality that Kah stands in front of her. The only other words she manages are a whispered, "What's a Haven?"
With another slow blink, Kah tries to think that through. Doing so, he turns to glance around them a little more acutely. He's not neccesarily a stranger to the realm of Dreams, his own finding their way through their own sense of evolution in recent weeks but his eyes search for .. small things that might be missing. The small things that don't matter in the illusion of the Dream, and he slowly moves toward the girl that's begun to re-draw that circle in the snow in front of her. He can't yet decide if the way the world fades around her is a good thing for bad thing for her in this manner, but he seems to generate some sense of theory as to what's happening now. With a frown he tries to approach as closely as he can to the child. "It is a place in the world where these things are not disregarded so easily." His tone suggests he very much believes what the girl says to him. Taking the risk he tries to reach out, to stop her hand from it's repetative motions. "What does this accomplish? If you are always asleep, then this is not keeping you awake."
"I've been trying to be awake, mister, really," the girl insists, her voice cracking with a rawness that betrays the fragile state she's in. Despite the unnerving way she behaves, her eyes well up with tears, her entire demeanor now filled with a desperate sorrow. "I can't wake up. I want to wake up!" The words tumble out in a rushed, panicked whisper, as if the very act of speaking them might somehow make them true.
Her gaze falls to the circle shes been tracing, her fingers continuing their mindless motion, the snow beneath her slowly becoming a pattern of endless repetition. Her face is dazed, almost as if she's trapped within a cycle she cant break free from. "It just keeps repeating. It all keeps repeating," she murmurs, her words heavy with a sense of foreboding. There's something ominous in her tone, as if the repetition itself carries a dark weight, a sense of inevitability that she cannot escape. Kah reaches out to stop her fingers, to break the cycle shes locked in, and the moment his hand touches hers, the motion halts. For a brief moment, the world seems to shift. The girls body stiffens, her eyes blinking rapidly as though she's suddenly being pulled back into the present. The haze lifts slightly from her expression, and she looks up at Kah with an odd, startled clarity. "Enos says Im stuck here," she says, her voice now dark, almost hollow.
That's enough of a confirmation for Kah and he seems to make some kind of choice. His hand clasps against the girl's as his eyes study the girl's face. "Who is that?" He asks, trying to keep a sense of nervousness from his voice. "And what comes next?" He almost whispers, before he's turning his attention once again to his surroundings. "What is your name?" ANothewr question comes, and the large man can't decide what to do next. Leaving the dream is something that by rights should have happened by now even, realizing the nature of the world around him. But ..
Waiting for the answers to his next question Kah's looking for something now that will give him clue to the way forward, or the way out.
"Enos is up here," the girl mutters, tapping the side of her head again with the fingertip of her free hand, her eyes distant and clouded with confusion. "He says this is what I get for trying to run away." Her words hang heavy in the air, each one laced with a sadness that cuts through the cold. She frowns, her face scrunching as she sniffles, and the back of her hand wipes across her face, brushing away the tears that she doesnt seem fully aware of. Despite the clarity in her words, her eyes remain hollow, as if something vital inside her has already slipped away. A faint trace of blood, still visible on her hand, marks her skin as she begins tracing yet another circle in the snow. Her fingers move with a strange, mechanical precision, the motion repetitive, almost like a compulsion. She doesn't seem to notice the blood on her hand, or the fact that she's drawn the same circle over and over. Its as if her body is acting without her conscious permission, trapped in an involuntary movement, a prisoner to something outside of her control, like a sleepwalker caught in a nightmare. "He says I don deserve to wake up," she continues, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and helplessness. "Hes going to keep me here, and he says Ill always wonder whats a dream and what isnt."
"Renee," comes the sudden word moments later, piercing through the otherwise silent moment.
With a snort of derision, even in this state ... Kah finds it hard to place himself beneath the mere conjurings of a girl's mind. But that only lasts a few moments as he remembers the strength of the Fae's dreams and fancies and his lips press together in a sudden sense of seriousness and danger. His mind sharpens, forcing itself to cut through the fog so he can try to envision the doorway in front of him. This is what he focuses on now, that doorway that he begins to try and force into existance with the determination of his mind. By imaginaing it there, by DREAMING that it is there, leading back to the world of the waking and the living, somewhere out there the real forests of Haven reside, and that only makes it more difficult to try and focus on the matter. If he can succeed, he'll turn toward the girl with a firm sense of authority he'll offer out his hand and for a moment he's unconcerned with his own weakness - it's forgotten and so here in the dream it slips away from him. "Take my hand." He can only wait so long, but he'll try to push at Fate. Perhapos all she needs is for someone to take her from this place. He has a vague memory of using something similar some forgotten skill against his enemies in the past ... a past that slips away as fluid as everything else is here.,
As Kah concentrates, his attention is drawn to something flickering just behind the girl, something barely perceptible at first. The shimmer of the air ripples like the surface of disturbed water, and suddenly, a doorway materializes. Its outline is faint, shimmering in and out of focus, but the golden knob gleams unmistakably, casting a soft glow in the surrounding darkness. The image feels fragile, as though it could vanish with the slightest shift in attention, but it lingers for a heartbeat longer.
The girl, her eyes wide with fear, notices it too. Her small form instinctively pulls back, her gaze darting nervously between Kah and the doorway. "He'll kill me!" she exclaims, her voice trembling with panic, as if the very thought of the door, of the thing that could lead her somewhere else, is too dangerous to entertain. Her breath catches in her throat, and her hands tighten around her knees once more.
But then, as if drawn by an invisible pull, her eyes shift back to the doorway, the golden knob catching the light. A trace of awe flickers across her face as she whispers, "Thats pretty." Her voice softens, almost mesmerized by the gleam of the knob, as if shes seeing something beautiful for the first time in what feels like forever. Without warning, her small hand slips from her knees and into Kah's, her touch tentative but firm, as if seeking reassurance, as though that simple gesture of connection might anchor her in a world she no longer understands. The weight of her grip is light, fragile, but theres an undeniable trust in her fingers, as if she's reaching for safety in a place where everything else seems uncertain.
It might not be safe where he's taking her, now. It might be the worst thing he could do for this girl, but the idea of her caged here, not even in the world of the living but in her own mind and her own dreams. That kind of captivity more than ever comes as unacceptable fate to the mind of Kah and his hand tightens around the fingers of the girl. "Then open it" he says. Maybe it's because he wants her to be the one to free herself from the place as he continues to focus most sharply on the destination that lies behind that doorway, and the gleaming golden knob - that keeps the door anchorewd in place. Perhaps he knows somewhere that it might be her that HAS to break herself free from a loop like this. He'll wait, but only so long. If she cannot bring herself to reach for that doorknob, he will himself, showing her how easy it CAN be - "A better fate awaits you" he says to her, ushering her through the threshold. "Any fate is better than this one."
The girl's grip tightens around Kah's hand, her fingers pressing into his with a quiet urgency. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of fear and determination, and her braids snap backward as she suddenly turns to face him, her face flushed with the intensity of the moment. "You have to come with me!" she insists, her voice sharp and insistent, a desperate plea wrapped in the innocence of a child who knows that whatever lies beyond the doorway is the only escape she believes she has.
Without waiting for an answer, she tugs at him, her small body straining with the pull as her other hand slowly reaches toward the gleaming golden knob. Theres a strange sense of finality in the way she moves, as if she knows what shes doing, as if she's been here before, and the doorway is the only way out. Her fingers close around the knob, and with a quiet twist, she begins to turn it. The air around them feels charged, as if something immense is about to happen, but just before the door fully opens, the girl glances back over her shoulder at Kah. Her face softens, a brief, almost fleeting smile curving her lips, so small, so fragile, yet filled with a glimmer of hope or perhaps resignation. In that instant, the door seems to beckon, and she pulls harder, her small frame all but dragging him toward the threshold.
With a quiet, almost wistful exhale, she steps forward, as though ready to step into whatever waits on the other side, her fingers still clutching his as she tugs him closer to the doorway, to the unknown.