Encounterlogs
Korinas Odd Encounter Sr Nikolai 240914
On a peaceful evening, Korina finds herself succumbing to sleep, nestled in her egg chair on a terrace surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature. What beckons her to slumber, however, is not mere fatigue but the subtle ensnarement of a dream stalker, intent on feasting upon her energy. In her dreamscape, Korina indulges in a raw steak feast, a fantasy that caters to her innermost desires and cravings. As she relishes bite after delightful bite, she's visited by Nikolai, whom she believes to be her boyfriend, offering her more of what she desires most. This dream, lavishly fulfilling yet suspiciously accommodating, begins to unravel as Korina notes inconsistencies within it, leading her to question the reality presented to her.
As Korina delves deeper into the layers of her lavish dream, the illusion begins to crumble, revealing its true nature as a sinister trap laid by the dream stalker. Despite the creature masquerading as Nikolai tempting her with comfort and the absence of pain, Korina's instinctual resolve fortifies. She attempts to fight back, utilizing her remaining strength to lash out against the imposter before her. The encounter escalates into a nightmarish scenario where Korina is forced to face a grotesque manifestation of her own consumption and an impending sense of doom. Ultimately, her fierce determination awakens her from the dream stalker's clutches, back into the cold reality of her terrace, shaken but resilient, underlining the ordeal's real yet unreal horror.
Meanwhile, Ritsuka's morning begins with a ritual of renewal and respect towards the Kami, embedded in tranquility at her home. However, the serene routine is abruptly disturbed by an eerie presence, signaled by an unnatural chill and a mysterious imprint on a pillow beside her. Despite the unsettling atmosphere, Ritsuka offers a gesture of goodwill towards the invisible entity, a 5 yen coin, hoping to establish a semblance of harmony or understanding. The air becomes dense with the scents of her childhood and a lullaby that's both familiar and foreign, signaling the haunting's deep personal resonance.
As Ritsuka interacts with the unknown spirit, the environment around her becomes increasingly charged with an ominous energy, suggesting the ghost's intense scrutiny and potentially malevolent intentions. Strange phenomena, such as the rippling of water without a tangible source and a feeling of being watched, escalate the encounter's intensity. Yet, Ritsuka's attempt at communication through the offering signifies her willingness to understand and possibly aid the spirit, despite the pervasive sense of danger and hostility that envelops her. The narrative leaves Ritsuka in this delicate balance, facing an invisible presence that might bear ill will yet also may be reached through compassion and understanding.
(Korina's odd encounter(SRNikolai):SRNikolai)
[Fri Sep 13 2024]
At a quiet, shaded spot on the terrace
This quiet spot on the terrace is shaded by the walls that surround it to the east and south, the tile roofing extending just far enough to ensure that half of this terrace spot remains protected from the midday sun. Beneath the shade sits a wicker egg chair lined with furs alongside a scratching post for a very large feline, while the rest of the space is left free for someone to walk around.
Beyond the bounds of the glass railing the northern forest, the fresh and earthy scents of the woodland drifting all the way up to here. The view extends far into the horizon until the trees in the distance are engulfed in a shroud of mist.
It is night, about 64F(17C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
It's a nice, temperate evening - or early morning, depending on perspective. The warmth thankfully remains inside of Korina's comfort zone, despite her glacial sensibilities, and some of the stars glitter even through the light pollution of the sleepy little town as the night birds finally turn in for some sleep.
Some sleep... that sounds perfect right now, doesn't it, Korina Yes - her eyelids droop heavily, as if dragged down by little weights, and she shifts in her little egg chair to find the best and most comfortable position in a mere moment, as if it were simply waiting for that drowsiness to wash over her to reveal itself. All these things happen as if unbidden by the woman herself, but it would not be the first time she let instinct rule her body in lieu of focused direction.
Her eyes have shut at some point, without her noticing it. She notices it /now/, of course, in that brief spark of clarity that sometimes flares up right before sleep takes someone - and then she is gone, and all there is to be heard on the terrace is soft, feline snoring.
Finally - Nik's excused himself from the dinner table, and Korina's free to set her cutlery down and pick up that fat, juicy steak with her fingers while he's not looking. It's plump, fatty, fresh - almost still bleeding. It's a special occasion for her to be allowed to eat her steak raw, but good girls deserve treats every now and then, don't they? The meat looks absolutely fucking scrumptious, just firm enough for her teeth to be able to tear through it in all the ways that satisfy her carnal instincts, but threatening to melt inside her mouth immediately after in a show of gastronomic delight.
Less immediately concerning details come to mind - she's in the dining room, with the big windows and the great view. There's a faint sizzle, and a wickedly enticing sent wafting from the kitchen... her boyfriend must be cooking up some steak for himself, too. Even if she preferred her food raw, the smell of cooking meat was hard to beat, wasn't it?
After a moment, Nikolai reappears in the doorway, carrying a plate for himself - some very fancy cut of steak, to be sure, with all that fancy marbling and stuff that he likes... but he's got a second plate for Korina, too, laid high with a pile of even more steak for her - some blue, so she can show her appreciation for and obedient adherence to Nikolai's house rules... but plenty just the way she likes them, too. It's steak heaven.
Curled up in her wicker egg chair that's covered in cat fur, Korina had been steadily on her way to a nap already; the sound of nocturnal animals breaks through from the forest to the north occasionally, and the wind is blowing just softly and sweetly enough to be comfortable, and really, what else is there to do on a night like this? Korina needs all her beauty sleep. It's only the first nap of the day.
And damn if it isn't a good fucking nap. The scent of raw and close-to-raw meat is heavy on the air, absolutely delicious, hitting her olfactory nerves just right and making her mouth water - is she drooling? She might be. Her teeth tear through that slab of fresh meat upon the plate, and then Nikolai's making his way in. Korina's head snaps up - is it time for admonishment for forgetting her table manners?
... no, it's time to be greeted with even more steak. Be still, Korina's heart. She leaves her steak to slink over to the man, leaning into him with a soft, purr-like noise escaping her throat, taking in his scent combined with the sizzling steak and the it's-fucking-raw steak before she can continue on with her steak journey. Appreciation is important, after all, and she does eat better when he's eating with her.
Nikolai offers up all the mileage of his bare neck for Korina to nuzzle herself up against and mark with her scent, murmuring sweet nothings of his love and devotion before he sets all five plates of gorgeous, raw steaks down on the table, then steps around to embrace her gently from behind while she eats, winding his fingers sweetly through her hair as he kisses her neck from behind. There's a soft puff of breath as Korina lets carnal juices drip down her chin to sully the tabletop, but he doesn't raise a fuss. It's not that he doesn't care, of course - that would be boring - but rather that he lets her get away with it, even though he does mind. Anything for his Korina; anything she desires. He would tidy up later, without complaint. It's a very good thing, too, that he's brought at least seven plates of steaks out for her... she's starving. Hunger lances through her stomach and her heart as she sits there - she has to eat more, and eat faster, if she wants to keep up with her deadly appetite.
It's Christmas come early. Not that Korina particularly knows nor cares what Christmas is. Still - not the point. The point is that Korina is being fed steaks upon a silver platter - metaphorically? Literally? It may just be both, in this case - and she's totally fine with that. Why wouldn't she be?
Well, actually, maybe just one little thing: "Are you not eating, Nik?" she questions of someone in broken, butchered Russian around a mouthful of rare steak - she's trying her best, alright? "It will go cold." And they both know he's not going to eat food gone-cold. She glances back over her shoulder at him, then at the table holding the plates. Seven, of course. Even if there were five earlier. Even if there were two earlier.
A pause.
Korina counts.
It's Christmas come early. Not that Korina particularly knows nor cares what Christmas is. Still - not the point. The point is that Korina is being fed steaks upon a silver platter - metaphorically? Literally? It may just be both, in this case - and she's totally fine with that. Why wouldn't she be?
Well, actually, maybe just one little thing: "Are you not eating, Nik?" she questions of Nikolai in broken, butchered Russian around a mouthful of rare steak - she's trying her best, alright? "It will go cold." And they both know he's not going to eat food gone-cold. She glances back over her shoulder at him, then at the table holding the plates. Seven, of course. Even if there were five earlier. Even if there were two earlier.
A pause.
Korina counts.
"Of course I am eating," Nikolai chuckles from across the table, smiling fondly at Korina. "I just need to make sure you're properly cared for, Korina. You're eating for two now, right?" He presses a kiss to the back of her head, and his arm slips around her waist from behind in that way it so often does, only this time his hand lays itself flat and warm over her stomach, rubbing softly over his unborn child. A proud demigod, surely - or that's what Nikolai would like to think. Of course, he'd really take after Korina as a proud, shape-shifting hunter. There's a contented sigh, and the big Russian finally spears his steak with a fork and cuts himself a piece, nice and neat, to pop into his mouth and savour, making heart eyes at her all the while from across the table. There's another icy lance of hunger through Korina - what is she waiting for? She'd better get back to eating. She has seven plates to get through, not counting the steak she started with. Yes; with her proper counting of things, there's definitely seven. She must have missed them at first. There's no eight or ninth plate suddenly appearing, so that must be it.
Of course. Of course he's eating. Yes. How silly of Korina. She blinks at Nikolai across the table- or is he behind her? He is in one or both of those places, most certainly, and Korina can't bring herself to mind it, really, as long as they're together, and- oh. There's a glance down at herself. Is she eating for two...?
Korina's lips part, just briefly, to figure out the right thing to say here. Or anything to say here at all. There's a surge of emotion that lances through her - isn't she supposed to /know/ these things? She doesn't feel any different, does she? There's another look down at herself. /Does/ she feel different?
Well. She feels hungry, that's for sure. Another big bite of steak goes down her throat, shredded apart by sharp teeth. Korina stares at Nikolai while she eats, quiet and contemplative, and maybe just a little bit restless.
Hungry, for sure. Maybe a bit exhausted, after a long day of napping. Maybe a little weak..? But that's how pregnancy works, right? The baby takes some of your strength to grow? Well, regardless, she has steak, and she has Nik, so hunger isn't an issue, and she has someone else to be big and strong on her behalf. Her partner's eyebrows furrow a little, as if concerned by her awkward silence, but he's a good boyfriend, too, and he lets her take her time, instead slicing off another bite of steak and chewing down on that to occupy himself. His foot rubs up along her leg comfortingly, as if just to remind her of his ever-present support.
"Eat, my Rina," he whispers over to her. "You must keep eating, my love. We want him to be strong, don't we? So you have to keep eating."
That's certainly how pregnancy words. Definitely. Korina's a pregnancy expert. At least she's not queasy, or turned off by meat? That would be the worst. Nikolai's encouraging words make her nod, and then she takes another bite of her steak - the first one, still. It's almost finished by now, surely.
"I..." she starts after a second, looking over the table. "I think this is too much, even for me." Korina's may pretend to be a bottomless pit, devourer of steaks, eater of worlds, but even she's got her limits. She's only human(ish), after all. Her eyes flick over to the door leading back into the kitchen, and she makes to rise from her seat. "I will get Asad."
"For people like you and me," Nikolai laughs, in the way that makes it boom across the room in the way that Korina likes, "There is no such thing as too much." He doesn't argue with her getting up, though - he's there at her side, keeping her steady as she rises... which is quite the good thing. Her feet are a little unsteady beneath her, like when she sometimes finds a new game to play on her phone while she's sitting on the toilet, and when she finally gets up her legs have fallen asleep. Yes; that's what it was. She's just been sitting too long.
"I could go get him for you," offers Nikolai, who is as ever the dependable rock for her to lean on. "But if you want to lie down, then I think I saw him in the bedroom."
Korina's hands clutch at Nikolai when she sways while attempting to stand on shaky feet - that doesn't usually happen. Her legs don't just /fall asleep/ while she's having dinner. Or breakfast. Or whatever this meal is. Maybe it's because of the pregnancy. It has to be, right? All sorts of weird, strange, new changes. She'll learn to adapt. There's another slow, deep breath; the feeling of unrest has been slowly creeping up her spine, intensifying, and Nikolai's question is met with a shake of her head. "No," Korina breathes to the first offer. "I will get him. And... yes. Maybe- maybe lying down is good. I feel strange." Strange is the only way she can put it, when all her senses are telling her Something Is Off.
On she goes, once she's found her feet beneath her, or has had Nikolai to guide her. Either works. Onwards, through the kitchen to the hallway to the bedroom. Asad?
The house is as Korina remembers it, so Korina's probably just come down with some form of malaise - and god, a hunger - that's not worth thinking too much about. The bedroom's a bit of a bomb site, admittedly - Asad must have raised hell in here while Nikolai and Korina were having dinner. Currently, he's lying belly up on the bed, chewing on some plush toy which appears to have been partially eviscerated at some point, fluff hanging out of it like entrails... but for now, the direcat only nibbles and mews cutely up at the approaching pair.
"He is adorable," Nikolai murmurs, letting out a pleased hum as he walks Korina to the side of the bed - and just in time, too. A sharp, painful strike of hunger rips through Korina like a bolt of lightning, and her legs give out from underneath her - but no matter, no matter, Nikolai catches her against his chest and lets out a soothing sound. "It's okay," he whispers. "Things are just getting faster. Maybe we shouldn't have stopped eating. Don't worry, it's okay." He helps her into bed while she's weakened, fluffing up the pillows for her, ignoring the fluff and mess.
"My poor girl," he croons, reaching up to cup her cheek. He's warm and wonderful, especially against the cold, clammy sweat on her skin. He reaches down with his other hand, stroking the growing swell of her gut. Something's alive in there, and it's kicking already.
Korina should have eaten more, but she's both painfully hungry and also queasy at the very thought of putting anything else in her body. She pauses to take in the destruction Asad has wreaked, eyes moving to Nikolai in anticipation-
'He is adorable.'
"... Oh."
There's a little whimper that escapes her when he legs give out and Korina goes collapsing into the man's arms, and her fingers grab at his arms to steady herself. There's a thundering in Korina's ears, like her heartbeat, too-loud, in sync with the kicking at her belly, and tears gather in her eyes, born of sheer overstimulation and the growing, ever-present feeling of wrongwrongwrongwrongWRONG--
Korina leans into the touch to her cheek, nuzzling against Nikolai's hand, and she reaches up to pull him closer. Her hands move up-
And her fingers close around in throat in a vice grip.
"You are not Nik," she murmurs close to his face, slow and silent and deadly. "Where is he?"
A vice grip? Korina should be so lucky. At best, she manages to give not-Nikolai's throat a good groping, a nice massage, a lover's squeeze - the strength is ebbing rapidly from her fingers, replaced by a chilly numbness that slackens her grip. Really, that she has her face so close to his now is more due to the tenderness and nearness with which he holds her.
"Just relax," whispers the invader, with Nikolai's voice but not his words. "You were trapped with the first bite you took, my love. Everything else was just to keep you comfortable."
Forget lightning - this next pulse of pain feels like Korina's being pulled apart by hooks deep inside her, each being tugged in different directions. She's coming undone - her stomach is going to split. There's a soft touch at her cheek - Nikolai's caress - and his voice whispers, "I can make it painless, though, Korina. Would you like that?"
Korina screams, though whether or not her lungs are able to inhale enough to make sound at all is up for debate. There's nothing more to it, just raw, agonizing pain that courses its way through her form and leaves her breathless and gasping. She shakes her head, tears beading up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks - no, she doesn't want that. She wants her body to be hers, and she wants her Nik, not this-... whatever this is, and she wants to be /home/, not this fake place that's home-yet-not, and she wants to not be in pain, and she wants to be /strong/ again, not feel as though she's being frozen and torn apart from the inside out.
He caresses her cheek again and she sobs, an almost child-like noise hiccuped free from her throat, and as her fingers lose strength, her attempts at strangling him going fruitless, Korina turns her head to the side and tries one last thing: she's going to bite his hand, and then she's going to eat him. Or she's going to die. One of those things.
Summoning up all the strength left in her, Korina's teeth manage to shear through the Nik-That-Isn't, ripping off a finger like a breaded fish stick. His features contort in some pain and a fair dose of displeasure, but that's all there is in reaction - except for that soothing caress to force her head back down onto the bed, pinning her down by the throat as her stomach begins to swell past the breaking point. The smell of her own blood hits Korina before she can see it - the skin splitting open before something shoves its arm out from deep within her gut, slick with the gore of her 'afterbirth'.
The growing weakness and unending agony prove too much for Korina's mind to bear. The last thing she sees is the birth of a new nightmare monster, dragging itself from the ruin of her bloated carcass...
And then she stirs to nauseated wakefulness in her egg chair, cold and shivery and weak. A dream, but a real one - the nightmare creatures have been feasting on her tonight.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Ritsuka is moving through the heart of the house as she just refreshes water from a bowl to place it down by the torri gate. Of course she is without her shoes, but working outside of Haven has left her with a red aura and without sanctuary for the moment. The old bowl is taken, and for the moment, placed on the circular table in the center of the room.
It is friday, the thirteenth of september, two thousand and twenty four. The morning is early; It is nearing six AM, just past the witching hour and the sun has only just begun to let itself be seen as it creeps inexorably from behind the vaunted veil of night into the depthful cradle of morning. Ritsuka is at home. And why should she not be? At this time, one might begin to wake. They might begin to start their morning rituals. They might pray, face the east and observe the solar as it rises to the horizon. The dawn itself is a time for new beginnings. It is the conclusive end, where the creatures of the night and the monsters that hide within shadows to return to their crypts. It is when the malicious gives itself over to the majestic. Where the shadows are long. It is where there are signs of promice. The light, though only just cresting heralds the coming of life and love and potential. And Ritsuka is aware of this. She wears no shoes. She lacks the comforting protection of sanctuary, but here, in her home, no harm will befall her. There is the protection of her shrine, to which she tends with rigor. The water is fresh, the sparkles of freshly birthed light glimmering over its surface, the shrine, across Ritsuka. This is a time of magic and rejuvenation. This is a time of happyness, where the veils are thin and in spite of all-- The waxing gibbous moon, the creatures of the night and their monsterous impending intentions to nefarious acts of unquestionable evil, not so for Ritsuka. This morning is new. It is fresh and it is alive with hope!
Ritsuka walks from the altar under the torii gate back to the central table, taking some more of the items that she uses to maintain the atmosphere and the shinto practice. This time it is a new stick of incense, and she makes her way back around to place it into a small incense holder, a round plate with a weight in the middle that has a small hole to hold the incense. The edges are formed to go up to hold any of the ash that falls in the burning. As there is not a lot of ash in the current one, she does not switch it out or clean it, but inserts the new stick of incense into the holder and lights it with a match, carefully holding the flame carefully to the top of the stick.
Yet, even with this safety. Deep within the protection of Ritsuka's home where that shrine stands, there is something not quite right. There is something ever so slightly off. The shadows draw long, threatening the grim impending anger of the night. The dawn though fends them off, that back-and-forth of light vs dark, night vs day, good vs evil, truth vs what is wrong, hate vs joy. The interplay is "so" and so it remains, for this is a time of justification- Of renewal and rebirth. Ritsuka is alone here. Her home is isolated and so anything might happen. She could of course live a peaceful life, where nothing might tempt begile or taunt her. She could take the trek to town. She could remain home. She could tend her shrine in the knowledge that she is not part of any of the machinations of the factions- The Hand, the Order, the Temple- The societies and the cults. Ritsuka could find herself unmalested by the problems of eidolons and spirits, demons and angels, gods and monsters. But this is the township of Haven, and Ritsuka is not so lucky, alas. It is gradually transitioning from summer into autumn, and this is obvious in everything; The temperature is cool, the sun shows itself later and later. The birds are less frequent, the leaves begin to brown before falling. And still, Ritsuka tends her shrine. This is right. She tends it and she makes efforts to appease the kami. Ritsuka was raised well to do so. But this morning, in spite of the impending chill in the air, there is something ever so slightly off. It is perhapse too cold, if only by degrees, and Ritsuka can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She feels the chill through her unclad feet, and she knows it to be so in her bones. Not all is as it would seem. Her foot falls, though soft send ripples across the surface of the water- Both bowls, the fresh, where the sun's joyous light begins to dance and that upon the low table in the center of the room. The incense is lit, it begins to burn and the soft scents begin to drift. And still... Not all is as it would appear... There is inevitably smoke when one lights a burner. There is ash, but should the scent be so thick? Should the ash fall that slowly-- Not obsessively so, but if one were to look closely, it would become very easy to note. Should Ritsuka's breath blossom before her with the chill of winter's frozen grasp? And indeed, the pillows around the table... Have they moved? There is a depression in one... And Ritsuka can hear the gentle tones of melodic music. Is it a voice? Is it a figment of Ritsuka's mind? Is it a flight of fancy? It sounds almost like a lullaby. But here? That's not entirely right, is it?
Ritsuka still affords a small smile to the sudden imprint onto one of the pillows and she takes the steps back and sits down on a pillow besides it. She reaches around to her satchel, shivering slightly from the sudden drop to winter cold temperatures, opens her satchel and takes on out a small wallet. She opens it and takes out a single, 5 yen coin and places it down in front of the pillow with the depression. "I don't know if you are invisible or something else, but please accept this offering. We offer them to the kami usually because the word is similar to goen, which means good relationship, fortune, ties and sometimes marriage."
The scent of the incense continues to flow through the room. It is thick, pervasive and it has a hint to it that is certainly not what Ritsuka placed within it. Burning, yes, but more than that; Sandlewood, perfume, the comforting scents of hearth and home-- Not western, no. But eastern. Ritsuka recognizes these as if from her own childhood. It's not certain from where, but recognize them she does. Ritsuka also continues to hear that song. It might be something from a half-remembered anime. It could be a lullaby. It could be as simple as a song once sang- And still, as Ritsuka thinks on it, it becomes clear that even in this, something is ever so slightly off... Ritsuka sits and places the coin and it is almost as if /something/ is starting to notice Ritsuka. Nothing changes. The air is still chill. The morning is still growing lighter. The day is still young, but Ritsuka does indeed have a guest, even if she cant see it. There is no motion, though there is the sensation of cold growing, as though Ritsuka's proximity is creating yet more chill. There's nothing physical, of course. It is all psychosimatic... or is it? Ritsuka is aware, and this is not natural. Ritsuka has no knowledge of it... And then, there is that offering... As Ritsuka places it down, there is a curious feeling. It is almost as if she had placed her hand into a freezer, or as if she had stepped onto a cold floor in the dead of winter. Ritsuka can /almost/ feel the cold burn of cold, dry ice against her fingers, and they become red, as if with frost bite... Or at least... Ritsuka thinks they should. That is the sensation-- the feeling. But of course, as Ritsuka looks, there is nothing of the sort. Ritsuka is perfectly fine... Ritsuka's fingers still tingle though. There is a distinct /knowledge/ of pain, cold... being watched? There is also something else. It is tence, angered, hostile, though the offering seems to have its attention for now... It-- What ever /it/ is, is listening to Ritsuka. Even as her flesh comes out in goosebumps- As Ritsuka's teeth chatter with the cold-- As Ritsuka shivers with quaking frigid chills, something is listening to Ritsuka. Something is listening... But is it also feeding? There is an odd feeling, as though a spider were walking across Ritsuka's flesh. As if the air pressure were rising. As if there were static in the air. That /something/ is most obviously here. It is in attendance. It is listening... And that old bowl that contained yesterday's offering of water... it ripples unnaturally, as though fingers were being jabbed into it, again and again and again... There is breath on the back of Ritsuka's neck... And yesterday's water is beaded with condensation, as though filled with ice-water... And still, the heady scent of the incense floats about the room, burning with unnatural scents, tention and threat. The ash falls, thick and heavy, as though there were more burning than it should...
As Korina delves deeper into the layers of her lavish dream, the illusion begins to crumble, revealing its true nature as a sinister trap laid by the dream stalker. Despite the creature masquerading as Nikolai tempting her with comfort and the absence of pain, Korina's instinctual resolve fortifies. She attempts to fight back, utilizing her remaining strength to lash out against the imposter before her. The encounter escalates into a nightmarish scenario where Korina is forced to face a grotesque manifestation of her own consumption and an impending sense of doom. Ultimately, her fierce determination awakens her from the dream stalker's clutches, back into the cold reality of her terrace, shaken but resilient, underlining the ordeal's real yet unreal horror.
Meanwhile, Ritsuka's morning begins with a ritual of renewal and respect towards the Kami, embedded in tranquility at her home. However, the serene routine is abruptly disturbed by an eerie presence, signaled by an unnatural chill and a mysterious imprint on a pillow beside her. Despite the unsettling atmosphere, Ritsuka offers a gesture of goodwill towards the invisible entity, a 5 yen coin, hoping to establish a semblance of harmony or understanding. The air becomes dense with the scents of her childhood and a lullaby that's both familiar and foreign, signaling the haunting's deep personal resonance.
As Ritsuka interacts with the unknown spirit, the environment around her becomes increasingly charged with an ominous energy, suggesting the ghost's intense scrutiny and potentially malevolent intentions. Strange phenomena, such as the rippling of water without a tangible source and a feeling of being watched, escalate the encounter's intensity. Yet, Ritsuka's attempt at communication through the offering signifies her willingness to understand and possibly aid the spirit, despite the pervasive sense of danger and hostility that envelops her. The narrative leaves Ritsuka in this delicate balance, facing an invisible presence that might bear ill will yet also may be reached through compassion and understanding.
(Korina's odd encounter(SRNikolai):SRNikolai)
[Fri Sep 13 2024]
At a quiet, shaded spot on the terrace
This quiet spot on the terrace is shaded by the walls that surround it to the east and south, the tile roofing extending just far enough to ensure that half of this terrace spot remains protected from the midday sun. Beneath the shade sits a wicker egg chair lined with furs alongside a scratching post for a very large feline, while the rest of the space is left free for someone to walk around.
Beyond the bounds of the glass railing the northern forest, the fresh and earthy scents of the woodland drifting all the way up to here. The view extends far into the horizon until the trees in the distance are engulfed in a shroud of mist.
It is night, about 64F(17C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
It's a nice, temperate evening - or early morning, depending on perspective. The warmth thankfully remains inside of Korina's comfort zone, despite her glacial sensibilities, and some of the stars glitter even through the light pollution of the sleepy little town as the night birds finally turn in for some sleep.
Some sleep... that sounds perfect right now, doesn't it, Korina Yes - her eyelids droop heavily, as if dragged down by little weights, and she shifts in her little egg chair to find the best and most comfortable position in a mere moment, as if it were simply waiting for that drowsiness to wash over her to reveal itself. All these things happen as if unbidden by the woman herself, but it would not be the first time she let instinct rule her body in lieu of focused direction.
Her eyes have shut at some point, without her noticing it. She notices it /now/, of course, in that brief spark of clarity that sometimes flares up right before sleep takes someone - and then she is gone, and all there is to be heard on the terrace is soft, feline snoring.
Finally - Nik's excused himself from the dinner table, and Korina's free to set her cutlery down and pick up that fat, juicy steak with her fingers while he's not looking. It's plump, fatty, fresh - almost still bleeding. It's a special occasion for her to be allowed to eat her steak raw, but good girls deserve treats every now and then, don't they? The meat looks absolutely fucking scrumptious, just firm enough for her teeth to be able to tear through it in all the ways that satisfy her carnal instincts, but threatening to melt inside her mouth immediately after in a show of gastronomic delight.
Less immediately concerning details come to mind - she's in the dining room, with the big windows and the great view. There's a faint sizzle, and a wickedly enticing sent wafting from the kitchen... her boyfriend must be cooking up some steak for himself, too. Even if she preferred her food raw, the smell of cooking meat was hard to beat, wasn't it?
After a moment, Nikolai reappears in the doorway, carrying a plate for himself - some very fancy cut of steak, to be sure, with all that fancy marbling and stuff that he likes... but he's got a second plate for Korina, too, laid high with a pile of even more steak for her - some blue, so she can show her appreciation for and obedient adherence to Nikolai's house rules... but plenty just the way she likes them, too. It's steak heaven.
Curled up in her wicker egg chair that's covered in cat fur, Korina had been steadily on her way to a nap already; the sound of nocturnal animals breaks through from the forest to the north occasionally, and the wind is blowing just softly and sweetly enough to be comfortable, and really, what else is there to do on a night like this? Korina needs all her beauty sleep. It's only the first nap of the day.
And damn if it isn't a good fucking nap. The scent of raw and close-to-raw meat is heavy on the air, absolutely delicious, hitting her olfactory nerves just right and making her mouth water - is she drooling? She might be. Her teeth tear through that slab of fresh meat upon the plate, and then Nikolai's making his way in. Korina's head snaps up - is it time for admonishment for forgetting her table manners?
... no, it's time to be greeted with even more steak. Be still, Korina's heart. She leaves her steak to slink over to the man, leaning into him with a soft, purr-like noise escaping her throat, taking in his scent combined with the sizzling steak and the it's-fucking-raw steak before she can continue on with her steak journey. Appreciation is important, after all, and she does eat better when he's eating with her.
Nikolai offers up all the mileage of his bare neck for Korina to nuzzle herself up against and mark with her scent, murmuring sweet nothings of his love and devotion before he sets all five plates of gorgeous, raw steaks down on the table, then steps around to embrace her gently from behind while she eats, winding his fingers sweetly through her hair as he kisses her neck from behind. There's a soft puff of breath as Korina lets carnal juices drip down her chin to sully the tabletop, but he doesn't raise a fuss. It's not that he doesn't care, of course - that would be boring - but rather that he lets her get away with it, even though he does mind. Anything for his Korina; anything she desires. He would tidy up later, without complaint. It's a very good thing, too, that he's brought at least seven plates of steaks out for her... she's starving. Hunger lances through her stomach and her heart as she sits there - she has to eat more, and eat faster, if she wants to keep up with her deadly appetite.
It's Christmas come early. Not that Korina particularly knows nor cares what Christmas is. Still - not the point. The point is that Korina is being fed steaks upon a silver platter - metaphorically? Literally? It may just be both, in this case - and she's totally fine with that. Why wouldn't she be?
Well, actually, maybe just one little thing: "Are you not eating, Nik?" she questions of someone in broken, butchered Russian around a mouthful of rare steak - she's trying her best, alright? "It will go cold." And they both know he's not going to eat food gone-cold. She glances back over her shoulder at him, then at the table holding the plates. Seven, of course. Even if there were five earlier. Even if there were two earlier.
A pause.
Korina counts.
It's Christmas come early. Not that Korina particularly knows nor cares what Christmas is. Still - not the point. The point is that Korina is being fed steaks upon a silver platter - metaphorically? Literally? It may just be both, in this case - and she's totally fine with that. Why wouldn't she be?
Well, actually, maybe just one little thing: "Are you not eating, Nik?" she questions of Nikolai in broken, butchered Russian around a mouthful of rare steak - she's trying her best, alright? "It will go cold." And they both know he's not going to eat food gone-cold. She glances back over her shoulder at him, then at the table holding the plates. Seven, of course. Even if there were five earlier. Even if there were two earlier.
A pause.
Korina counts.
"Of course I am eating," Nikolai chuckles from across the table, smiling fondly at Korina. "I just need to make sure you're properly cared for, Korina. You're eating for two now, right?" He presses a kiss to the back of her head, and his arm slips around her waist from behind in that way it so often does, only this time his hand lays itself flat and warm over her stomach, rubbing softly over his unborn child. A proud demigod, surely - or that's what Nikolai would like to think. Of course, he'd really take after Korina as a proud, shape-shifting hunter. There's a contented sigh, and the big Russian finally spears his steak with a fork and cuts himself a piece, nice and neat, to pop into his mouth and savour, making heart eyes at her all the while from across the table. There's another icy lance of hunger through Korina - what is she waiting for? She'd better get back to eating. She has seven plates to get through, not counting the steak she started with. Yes; with her proper counting of things, there's definitely seven. She must have missed them at first. There's no eight or ninth plate suddenly appearing, so that must be it.
Of course. Of course he's eating. Yes. How silly of Korina. She blinks at Nikolai across the table- or is he behind her? He is in one or both of those places, most certainly, and Korina can't bring herself to mind it, really, as long as they're together, and- oh. There's a glance down at herself. Is she eating for two...?
Korina's lips part, just briefly, to figure out the right thing to say here. Or anything to say here at all. There's a surge of emotion that lances through her - isn't she supposed to /know/ these things? She doesn't feel any different, does she? There's another look down at herself. /Does/ she feel different?
Well. She feels hungry, that's for sure. Another big bite of steak goes down her throat, shredded apart by sharp teeth. Korina stares at Nikolai while she eats, quiet and contemplative, and maybe just a little bit restless.
Hungry, for sure. Maybe a bit exhausted, after a long day of napping. Maybe a little weak..? But that's how pregnancy works, right? The baby takes some of your strength to grow? Well, regardless, she has steak, and she has Nik, so hunger isn't an issue, and she has someone else to be big and strong on her behalf. Her partner's eyebrows furrow a little, as if concerned by her awkward silence, but he's a good boyfriend, too, and he lets her take her time, instead slicing off another bite of steak and chewing down on that to occupy himself. His foot rubs up along her leg comfortingly, as if just to remind her of his ever-present support.
"Eat, my Rina," he whispers over to her. "You must keep eating, my love. We want him to be strong, don't we? So you have to keep eating."
That's certainly how pregnancy words. Definitely. Korina's a pregnancy expert. At least she's not queasy, or turned off by meat? That would be the worst. Nikolai's encouraging words make her nod, and then she takes another bite of her steak - the first one, still. It's almost finished by now, surely.
"I..." she starts after a second, looking over the table. "I think this is too much, even for me." Korina's may pretend to be a bottomless pit, devourer of steaks, eater of worlds, but even she's got her limits. She's only human(ish), after all. Her eyes flick over to the door leading back into the kitchen, and she makes to rise from her seat. "I will get Asad."
"For people like you and me," Nikolai laughs, in the way that makes it boom across the room in the way that Korina likes, "There is no such thing as too much." He doesn't argue with her getting up, though - he's there at her side, keeping her steady as she rises... which is quite the good thing. Her feet are a little unsteady beneath her, like when she sometimes finds a new game to play on her phone while she's sitting on the toilet, and when she finally gets up her legs have fallen asleep. Yes; that's what it was. She's just been sitting too long.
"I could go get him for you," offers Nikolai, who is as ever the dependable rock for her to lean on. "But if you want to lie down, then I think I saw him in the bedroom."
Korina's hands clutch at Nikolai when she sways while attempting to stand on shaky feet - that doesn't usually happen. Her legs don't just /fall asleep/ while she's having dinner. Or breakfast. Or whatever this meal is. Maybe it's because of the pregnancy. It has to be, right? All sorts of weird, strange, new changes. She'll learn to adapt. There's another slow, deep breath; the feeling of unrest has been slowly creeping up her spine, intensifying, and Nikolai's question is met with a shake of her head. "No," Korina breathes to the first offer. "I will get him. And... yes. Maybe- maybe lying down is good. I feel strange." Strange is the only way she can put it, when all her senses are telling her Something Is Off.
On she goes, once she's found her feet beneath her, or has had Nikolai to guide her. Either works. Onwards, through the kitchen to the hallway to the bedroom. Asad?
The house is as Korina remembers it, so Korina's probably just come down with some form of malaise - and god, a hunger - that's not worth thinking too much about. The bedroom's a bit of a bomb site, admittedly - Asad must have raised hell in here while Nikolai and Korina were having dinner. Currently, he's lying belly up on the bed, chewing on some plush toy which appears to have been partially eviscerated at some point, fluff hanging out of it like entrails... but for now, the direcat only nibbles and mews cutely up at the approaching pair.
"He is adorable," Nikolai murmurs, letting out a pleased hum as he walks Korina to the side of the bed - and just in time, too. A sharp, painful strike of hunger rips through Korina like a bolt of lightning, and her legs give out from underneath her - but no matter, no matter, Nikolai catches her against his chest and lets out a soothing sound. "It's okay," he whispers. "Things are just getting faster. Maybe we shouldn't have stopped eating. Don't worry, it's okay." He helps her into bed while she's weakened, fluffing up the pillows for her, ignoring the fluff and mess.
"My poor girl," he croons, reaching up to cup her cheek. He's warm and wonderful, especially against the cold, clammy sweat on her skin. He reaches down with his other hand, stroking the growing swell of her gut. Something's alive in there, and it's kicking already.
Korina should have eaten more, but she's both painfully hungry and also queasy at the very thought of putting anything else in her body. She pauses to take in the destruction Asad has wreaked, eyes moving to Nikolai in anticipation-
'He is adorable.'
"... Oh."
There's a little whimper that escapes her when he legs give out and Korina goes collapsing into the man's arms, and her fingers grab at his arms to steady herself. There's a thundering in Korina's ears, like her heartbeat, too-loud, in sync with the kicking at her belly, and tears gather in her eyes, born of sheer overstimulation and the growing, ever-present feeling of wrongwrongwrongwrongWRONG--
Korina leans into the touch to her cheek, nuzzling against Nikolai's hand, and she reaches up to pull him closer. Her hands move up-
And her fingers close around in throat in a vice grip.
"You are not Nik," she murmurs close to his face, slow and silent and deadly. "Where is he?"
A vice grip? Korina should be so lucky. At best, she manages to give not-Nikolai's throat a good groping, a nice massage, a lover's squeeze - the strength is ebbing rapidly from her fingers, replaced by a chilly numbness that slackens her grip. Really, that she has her face so close to his now is more due to the tenderness and nearness with which he holds her.
"Just relax," whispers the invader, with Nikolai's voice but not his words. "You were trapped with the first bite you took, my love. Everything else was just to keep you comfortable."
Forget lightning - this next pulse of pain feels like Korina's being pulled apart by hooks deep inside her, each being tugged in different directions. She's coming undone - her stomach is going to split. There's a soft touch at her cheek - Nikolai's caress - and his voice whispers, "I can make it painless, though, Korina. Would you like that?"
Korina screams, though whether or not her lungs are able to inhale enough to make sound at all is up for debate. There's nothing more to it, just raw, agonizing pain that courses its way through her form and leaves her breathless and gasping. She shakes her head, tears beading up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks - no, she doesn't want that. She wants her body to be hers, and she wants her Nik, not this-... whatever this is, and she wants to be /home/, not this fake place that's home-yet-not, and she wants to not be in pain, and she wants to be /strong/ again, not feel as though she's being frozen and torn apart from the inside out.
He caresses her cheek again and she sobs, an almost child-like noise hiccuped free from her throat, and as her fingers lose strength, her attempts at strangling him going fruitless, Korina turns her head to the side and tries one last thing: she's going to bite his hand, and then she's going to eat him. Or she's going to die. One of those things.
Summoning up all the strength left in her, Korina's teeth manage to shear through the Nik-That-Isn't, ripping off a finger like a breaded fish stick. His features contort in some pain and a fair dose of displeasure, but that's all there is in reaction - except for that soothing caress to force her head back down onto the bed, pinning her down by the throat as her stomach begins to swell past the breaking point. The smell of her own blood hits Korina before she can see it - the skin splitting open before something shoves its arm out from deep within her gut, slick with the gore of her 'afterbirth'.
The growing weakness and unending agony prove too much for Korina's mind to bear. The last thing she sees is the birth of a new nightmare monster, dragging itself from the ruin of her bloated carcass...
And then she stirs to nauseated wakefulness in her egg chair, cold and shivery and weak. A dream, but a real one - the nightmare creatures have been feasting on her tonight.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Ritsuka is moving through the heart of the house as she just refreshes water from a bowl to place it down by the torri gate. Of course she is without her shoes, but working outside of Haven has left her with a red aura and without sanctuary for the moment. The old bowl is taken, and for the moment, placed on the circular table in the center of the room.
It is friday, the thirteenth of september, two thousand and twenty four. The morning is early; It is nearing six AM, just past the witching hour and the sun has only just begun to let itself be seen as it creeps inexorably from behind the vaunted veil of night into the depthful cradle of morning. Ritsuka is at home. And why should she not be? At this time, one might begin to wake. They might begin to start their morning rituals. They might pray, face the east and observe the solar as it rises to the horizon. The dawn itself is a time for new beginnings. It is the conclusive end, where the creatures of the night and the monsters that hide within shadows to return to their crypts. It is when the malicious gives itself over to the majestic. Where the shadows are long. It is where there are signs of promice. The light, though only just cresting heralds the coming of life and love and potential. And Ritsuka is aware of this. She wears no shoes. She lacks the comforting protection of sanctuary, but here, in her home, no harm will befall her. There is the protection of her shrine, to which she tends with rigor. The water is fresh, the sparkles of freshly birthed light glimmering over its surface, the shrine, across Ritsuka. This is a time of magic and rejuvenation. This is a time of happyness, where the veils are thin and in spite of all-- The waxing gibbous moon, the creatures of the night and their monsterous impending intentions to nefarious acts of unquestionable evil, not so for Ritsuka. This morning is new. It is fresh and it is alive with hope!
Ritsuka walks from the altar under the torii gate back to the central table, taking some more of the items that she uses to maintain the atmosphere and the shinto practice. This time it is a new stick of incense, and she makes her way back around to place it into a small incense holder, a round plate with a weight in the middle that has a small hole to hold the incense. The edges are formed to go up to hold any of the ash that falls in the burning. As there is not a lot of ash in the current one, she does not switch it out or clean it, but inserts the new stick of incense into the holder and lights it with a match, carefully holding the flame carefully to the top of the stick.
Yet, even with this safety. Deep within the protection of Ritsuka's home where that shrine stands, there is something not quite right. There is something ever so slightly off. The shadows draw long, threatening the grim impending anger of the night. The dawn though fends them off, that back-and-forth of light vs dark, night vs day, good vs evil, truth vs what is wrong, hate vs joy. The interplay is "so" and so it remains, for this is a time of justification- Of renewal and rebirth. Ritsuka is alone here. Her home is isolated and so anything might happen. She could of course live a peaceful life, where nothing might tempt begile or taunt her. She could take the trek to town. She could remain home. She could tend her shrine in the knowledge that she is not part of any of the machinations of the factions- The Hand, the Order, the Temple- The societies and the cults. Ritsuka could find herself unmalested by the problems of eidolons and spirits, demons and angels, gods and monsters. But this is the township of Haven, and Ritsuka is not so lucky, alas. It is gradually transitioning from summer into autumn, and this is obvious in everything; The temperature is cool, the sun shows itself later and later. The birds are less frequent, the leaves begin to brown before falling. And still, Ritsuka tends her shrine. This is right. She tends it and she makes efforts to appease the kami. Ritsuka was raised well to do so. But this morning, in spite of the impending chill in the air, there is something ever so slightly off. It is perhapse too cold, if only by degrees, and Ritsuka can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She feels the chill through her unclad feet, and she knows it to be so in her bones. Not all is as it would seem. Her foot falls, though soft send ripples across the surface of the water- Both bowls, the fresh, where the sun's joyous light begins to dance and that upon the low table in the center of the room. The incense is lit, it begins to burn and the soft scents begin to drift. And still... Not all is as it would appear... There is inevitably smoke when one lights a burner. There is ash, but should the scent be so thick? Should the ash fall that slowly-- Not obsessively so, but if one were to look closely, it would become very easy to note. Should Ritsuka's breath blossom before her with the chill of winter's frozen grasp? And indeed, the pillows around the table... Have they moved? There is a depression in one... And Ritsuka can hear the gentle tones of melodic music. Is it a voice? Is it a figment of Ritsuka's mind? Is it a flight of fancy? It sounds almost like a lullaby. But here? That's not entirely right, is it?
Ritsuka still affords a small smile to the sudden imprint onto one of the pillows and she takes the steps back and sits down on a pillow besides it. She reaches around to her satchel, shivering slightly from the sudden drop to winter cold temperatures, opens her satchel and takes on out a small wallet. She opens it and takes out a single, 5 yen coin and places it down in front of the pillow with the depression. "I don't know if you are invisible or something else, but please accept this offering. We offer them to the kami usually because the word is similar to goen, which means good relationship, fortune, ties and sometimes marriage."
The scent of the incense continues to flow through the room. It is thick, pervasive and it has a hint to it that is certainly not what Ritsuka placed within it. Burning, yes, but more than that; Sandlewood, perfume, the comforting scents of hearth and home-- Not western, no. But eastern. Ritsuka recognizes these as if from her own childhood. It's not certain from where, but recognize them she does. Ritsuka also continues to hear that song. It might be something from a half-remembered anime. It could be a lullaby. It could be as simple as a song once sang- And still, as Ritsuka thinks on it, it becomes clear that even in this, something is ever so slightly off... Ritsuka sits and places the coin and it is almost as if /something/ is starting to notice Ritsuka. Nothing changes. The air is still chill. The morning is still growing lighter. The day is still young, but Ritsuka does indeed have a guest, even if she cant see it. There is no motion, though there is the sensation of cold growing, as though Ritsuka's proximity is creating yet more chill. There's nothing physical, of course. It is all psychosimatic... or is it? Ritsuka is aware, and this is not natural. Ritsuka has no knowledge of it... And then, there is that offering... As Ritsuka places it down, there is a curious feeling. It is almost as if she had placed her hand into a freezer, or as if she had stepped onto a cold floor in the dead of winter. Ritsuka can /almost/ feel the cold burn of cold, dry ice against her fingers, and they become red, as if with frost bite... Or at least... Ritsuka thinks they should. That is the sensation-- the feeling. But of course, as Ritsuka looks, there is nothing of the sort. Ritsuka is perfectly fine... Ritsuka's fingers still tingle though. There is a distinct /knowledge/ of pain, cold... being watched? There is also something else. It is tence, angered, hostile, though the offering seems to have its attention for now... It-- What ever /it/ is, is listening to Ritsuka. Even as her flesh comes out in goosebumps- As Ritsuka's teeth chatter with the cold-- As Ritsuka shivers with quaking frigid chills, something is listening to Ritsuka. Something is listening... But is it also feeding? There is an odd feeling, as though a spider were walking across Ritsuka's flesh. As if the air pressure were rising. As if there were static in the air. That /something/ is most obviously here. It is in attendance. It is listening... And that old bowl that contained yesterday's offering of water... it ripples unnaturally, as though fingers were being jabbed into it, again and again and again... There is breath on the back of Ritsuka's neck... And yesterday's water is beaded with condensation, as though filled with ice-water... And still, the heady scent of the incense floats about the room, burning with unnatural scents, tention and threat. The ash falls, thick and heavy, as though there were more burning than it should...