Encounterlogs
Laurens Odd Encounter Sr Luc 240326
In a night veiled with the mysteries of Haven, Lauren finds herself plucked from the comfort of her solitude by the piercing screams of terror and agony emanating from the street below. The source of the disturbance is a gut-wrenching scene: a young woman, Jo, in the throes of despair beside her grievously mauled partner, Caleb, whose injuries speak of a supernatural predator's attack. Lauren, in a fleeting attempt to offer aid, finds herself face-to-face with the harrowing reality of their situation – the wounds are beyond her help, and Caleb's fate is sealed. The grim tableau unravels further as the paramedics arrive, shedding a glimmer of otherworldliness when one reveals angelic attributes, hinting at the complex fabric of Haven's secret society.
As the narrative unfolds, Lauren's encounter with the supernatural crisis transitions into a delicate task of safeguarding the fragile veil that conceals Haven's true nature from Jo, who is now a direct threat to their clandestine existence. With Jo's hysteria mounting, Lauren musters the patience to lead her away from prying eyes, ensuring her compliance under the guise of care. The arrival of Order operatives introduces a momentary reassurance that Jo's trauma could be managed with their arcane interventions. However, the ordeal leaves an indelible mark on Lauren, reminding her of the ever-present dance with the perilous unknown that residents of Haven must navigate, often sacrificing their peace for the greater good. Amidst the chaos, Luc's storyline serves as a stark juxtaposition – a man trapped, not by the supernatural, but by his own recklessness, hinting at the myriad ways the night can entrap those who wander too close to the edge.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRLuc):SRLuc)
[Mon Mar 25 2024]
In room 105
A lone sleigh bed entices visitors to rest, complete with fluffed white
pillows and a soft cream comforter. The petite room boasts simplicity at
it's finest. Caramel curtains cascade over two arched windows, matching a
study desk set to the side which gives renters a convenient workspace. A
single closet provides space for clothes, standing beside a door which leads
into a complete bathroom.
It is night, about 35F(1C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's snowing outside. 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.
)
It comes without warning. Screaming. Screams of pain, terror, mourning; they shatter the peace of the night like a bullet through glass.
"GOD, PLEASE, NO!" sound out the frantic cries of a young woman. It's hard to say where they're coming from without better hearing, but it must be nearby to make have made it upstairs so audibly. "CALEB! CALEB, BABY! PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP!"
This can't be good. Something had happened, and being that this was Haven and fatal muggings were just about impossible, that something probably was supernatural in origin - and not everyone staying in this part of town knew its secrets. The screaming chokes off into something nonverbal, but that doesn't mean it gets any quieter. Wailing and sobbing carries up throughout the hotel, and the building comes to life as people arouse from their sleep.
"What the fuck...?" Lauren blinks up at the ceiling, then again as she's snapped out of her comfortable, fog-minded reverie by the sudden noise downstairs. The occasional wisp of smoke drifts across the room - god bless no smoke alarm in here - and she takes another drag of her joint before putting it out and away and rising to her feet. She doesn't bother with shoes, just pads along the hotel hallway past half-cracked doors and disgruntled visitors, and leans against the stairway banister to take a peek at what's going on down there.
Lauren's not the first person out the door for this one - she can probably chalk it up to the fog-minded reverie she'd been in. A few other peeping toms have come to get an eye on the damage, and judging by the stench of blood, bile and shit reeking from down below, someone must be torn up to hell and back. O, the joys of the full moon.
"Please, please," comes a tear-wracked sob in a woman's voice, still out of sight - just outside the lobby, sounds like. Right on the streets of the historic district. "A- a wolf. Please. Where is the ambulance? Please, where is the ambulance?" The onlookers stare on with a mixture of shock, sorrow and disgust; one child that evidently has no curfew sits and stares in the corner of the room.
"We... we were just camping behind the hotel... please, please..."
The stench that reaches her nose makes Lauren physically recoil, and there's another quiet little, "fuck..." exhaled, just to really get the point across. "You," she prods her finger into the chest of the nearest person she can find, completely at random. "Call the ambulance." Meanwhile, a short trip back to her room and back brings with her a roll of bandages, for lack of a proper first aid kit, and Lauren descends down the stairs and outside, properly shoe'd this time, to figure out if she can help with poor little Caleb and get a proper look at the situation in the process.
"Been called," drifts the reply, but Lauren's already on the move, grabbing her medkit. Actually getting down there and on the scene doesn't bring any good news, though. Caleb's not-so-little: he's an adult man, dressed for camping, and he is an utterly lost cause. He lies in a pool of blood that's not growing very quickly anymore, with one arm a mauled stump below the elbow. He's been disemboweled, too, with lengths of intestine pulled out through a bloody opening in the man's abdomen. If he is alive, he won't be for much longer. Without forensic knowledge, it's hard to ID the assailant by the wounds - but it's the full moon, and they were attacked in the woods. The logic is there. There's still the question of how this was done under sanctuary, but there's denying the brutality of what Lauren's seeing... and what the young woman kneeling over Caleb's soon-to-be corpse must have seen, as well.
"Fuckin' hell..." There's really not a lot for Lauren to do here with her limited first-aid knowledge, but the least she can do is kneel by the man's side and tie off the stump of Caleb's arm with a tight, tourniquet-esque loop of bandage. There's not a lot to be done about the disembowelment, apart from just making sure the loops of bloody intestine aren't spilling all over the dirty ground. "Hey, calm down," she reaches out to rest a bloodied hand on the woman's shoulder after that, letting the touch serve as a grounding point in an attempt to pull her attention away from the actively-dying Caleb. "Ambulance'll be here in a few. How'd you get away?"
"I-"
The woman's eyes squeeze shut, and a shudder works its way down her spine, and she twists away from Lauren's touch - she won't look away from her dead-or-dying partner. Won't be distracted away from his last moments. "I don't know," she weeps. "It tore into our tent out of - oh, god." Her breath hitches, and she lets out a sob. Whatever she's been through, it's shocked her hard enough to make speaking hard. That might be to the benefit of the town's secrets, but this woman has paid a terrible price. "It came out of nowhere. It - it attacked Caleb, and then it ran away, and all I could do was drag him back to the street. Please - he has to be alright. He has to be alright." She sobs into her hand as she bites onto a knuckle, squeezing her eyes shut again. "It... it wasn't an /animal/. It ran on two legs! It was huge... a monster."
"Hey, shh, breathe, breathe," Lauren doesn't force her to look away from Caleb, and her hand slips down to pat the woman's back gently. There's a Look at the nearest hotel employee - where the fuck is the ambulance? "Deeeep breaths," she tells the woman, "It's okay to be a little confused. He'll be fine, though. The ambulance will be here any second..." Technically a lie, but hey, what's to say he /won't/ be fine?! Surely miracles can happen. Lauren looks down at Caleb with a grimace - is he still breathing? - and then turns her attention back to the woman. "Deep breaths. The creatures in the woods around here can get to be huge, yeah. 's not a good idea to camp back there." There's a wince right after - wrong thing to say right now. "Shit, uhh, I mean. You couldn't have known. Uhh..."
Even if the unnamed woman does draw in towards herself with the unwitting chastisement from Lauren, it's not as if she could get much more upset than she already was. She doesn't make any complaints, even if they might be swimming around under there - Why aren't there any signs? Why is nothing being done about this? - but she does go back to shaking Caleb by the shoulder. "Baby," she cries. "Please, baby, wake up. Caleb!" At least she's not screaming. There's a whine in the distance as the ambulance crosses Franklin Bridge, its sirens playing out hauntingly over the moonlit bay, and it's not long before the vehicle pulls up and a pair of White Oak paramedics burst out the back, stretcher in tow.
"Clear the way!" they command, and the crowd disperses quickly; a testament to the severity of the man's mauling. "Christ in Heaven above," the first of the medics swears, shocked and pitying at once. Up close, he's wearing a strange collar - a little like a clerical collar, only metallic... and imbued with some measure of arcane power, to Lauren's eyes. "Get his feet," he instructs, to the younger of the pair, who quickly complies. "We're going to get him stable, but he'll have to be transferred to Massachusetts General Hospital, okay? We can't take you with us for now." They load him up onto the stretcher, and the younger of the pair gets him into the ambulance alone as the elder collects identification from the woman at Lauren's side. When they depart, she sits there numbly, clearly in shock. "It was a monster," she whispers again, to no one in particular. "A monster ate my husband..."
"Hold up, hey," Lauren quickly climbs to her feet after the paramedics once they've taken the woman's identification, reaching out to grab at the elbow of the one with the collar before they can depart, "Cauterize him," she tells him simply before letting go, not wanting to delay the man's treatment any further. There's a glance over at the mauled man at the back of the ambulance, but there's not anything more for Lauren to do regarding that - instead, she makes her way back over to the woman, helping her to her feet and attempting to pull her inside into the hotel's lobby. "C'mon, lets get you sorted out. Drink some water, calm down, wash off the blood, get your head straight, and we can go visit the hospital so you can see Caleb, yeah?" She's steadily refusing to acknowledge the 'monster' assumptions - it's a woman in shock, surely she doesn't know what she's talking about, right? Even if she does.
"We'll do what we can, Miss," replies the paramedic, and as he turns to gently brush Lauren's hand from his shoulder, there's a flash of white like. It's not unfamiliar to Lauren, though it's been some time since she was a mortal Sensitive. The white light pours from the paramedic's skin, and the massive pair of angelic wings that sprout from his back. "Worry not," murmurs the man with the glowing, golden circlet. Then that brief glimpse into the paramedic's manifestation is gone, and she's faced with the wingless, human back of the figure as he steps into the ambulance and shuts the doors behind him.
"I - I don't have a shower," stammers the young woman. "Um. Um, my name is Jo. Oh, god, Caleb..." She drops her head into her hands, then gets back up onto wobbly feet, trying to stifle the tears leaking down her face. "But... the monster. Please, it's not safe - we have to get out of here!" Her voice picks up in volume as her eyes widen, whipping her head from bystander to bystander, to the child who's just seen their first dead body - or nearly dead, anyway. "THERE'S - THERE'S A MONSTER! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!" Her breathing comes hard and fast, and it's evident that the woman is about to spiral into some well-reasoned hysteria in the next few minutes.
Lauren winces at the sudden loud noise, and the fact that it would be very fuckin' rude to do that is the only thing that keeps her from slapping a hand upon the woman's mouth. "Hey," she says instead, the very picture of calm. The lingering high from her smoking does help. "I have a bath, upstairs. Let's get you in it. Let's not scare poor innocent bystanders, yeah? Nobody should be going out at this time of the night. It's safe in here." There's irritation in her voice after when she calls out, while attempting to steer the woman - Jo - out of the public eye where she can call in one of the more experience hypnotists of the Order and have them 'reassure' her that it was, indeed, an animal attack. "And someone get that kid outta here and into bed, Jesus Christ."
It would turn out that small-town Americans are simultaneously very good at not freaking out about stuff while also spreading gossip at speeds that rival NSA supercomputers. Steering the woman out of the crowd and into the hotel works, at least, but the few aware in the crowd aren't enough to stifle the spreading rumour of a 'monster attack' by the hotel. Of course, the unaware are treating it more as a flight of fancy than a real threat, but it's not as clean as anyone would like it to be. Who knows what happens to the kid, either.
Jo alternates between stubbornness and compliance, as Lauren might expect. She freezes twice up the stairways, but a hand on her back or shoulder is enough to get her legs working again, even if on autopilot. "Thank you," she whispers, once they're inside the hotel room. "God... I can't believe this is happening. Do you think he'll be okay?"
"He'll be fine," Lauren reassures the woman, letting Jo sit on the bed and moving first to wash her hands clean of any blood before she starts up the bath. "It's just the full moon, you know how wild animals act up during this time of the month." She keeps a close eye on the woman while she's speaking, just looking for her reaction. "Why don't you get in the bath, and I'll call someone who can drive you to the hospital?" She pulls up her phone - unfortunately not to call for a driver, but to send a text over the Order comms - 'S.O.S need someone in the hotel for damage control/cover up, room 105' should do it for now. Jo's in great hands, really.
"Wait, um -" Jo's hands come to grip tightly around Lauren's arm. "Could, uh, you stay by the door? Or something? I don't want to be alone right now. Please?" A bath is certainly going to do her good - up close and alone, it's easy to see how dirty the woman got herself as she dragged her boyfriend clear of the woods. It must have taken an act of desperate strength. Still, her hands are caked with blood and dirth, and her face isn't doing all that much better."
It takes about half an hour for the knock at the door to come, and when they let themselves inside, the Orderites reveal themselves to be a tall, thin man and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a big, maternal smile - comforting and calming and somehow inspiring the idea there might be freshly-baked cookies or muffins at the end of all of this. Lauren's stuck keeping Jo as calm as she can while she cleans up, which does take away from her time allotted to getting blitzed out of her fucking mind and staring at the roof, but duty had a funny way of not paying much heed to scheduling.
When they're done, the tall man introduces himself as being the local ranger, who needed to take details - a white lie, of course, to get the conversation going. Details are collected, soothing words are shared, and then the tall fellow hands his number over to Lauren while the older woman escorts a stupefied-looking Jo from the room.
"We're going to take her in for a few days," he murmurs. "We're going to have to approach this one with some fake memories, alchemy, all of that. Can't just make a dream out of this. Thanks for calling - we'll let you know how it goes, alright?" And then he's leaving, too, and Lauren can return to the rest of her night during just another full moon in Haven."
"Wait, um -" Jo's hands come to grip tightly around Lauren's arm. "Could, uh, you stay by the door? Or something? I don't want to be alone right now. Please?" A bath is certainly going to do her good - up close and alone, it's easy to see how dirty the woman got herself as she dragged her boyfriend clear of the woods. It must have taken an act of desperate strength. Still, her hands are caked with blood and dirth, and her face isn't doing all that much better.
It takes about half an hour for the knock at the door to come, and when they let themselves inside, the Orderites reveal themselves to be a tall, thin man and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a big, maternal smile - comforting and calming and somehow inspiring the idea there might be freshly-baked cookies or muffins at the end of all of this. Lauren's stuck keeping Jo as calm as she can while she cleans up, which does take away from her time allotted to getting blitzed out of her fucking mind and staring at the roof, but duty had a funny way of not paying much heed to scheduling.
When they're done, the tall man introduces himself as being the local ranger, who needed to take details - a white lie, of course, to get the conversation going. Details are collected, soothing words are shared, and then the tall fellow hands his number over to Lauren while the older woman escorts a stupefied-looking Jo from the room.
"We're going to take her in for a few days," he murmurs. "We're going to have to approach this one with some fake memories, alchemy, all of that. Can't just make a dream out of this. Thanks for calling - we'll let you know how it goes, alright?" And then he's leaving, too, and Lauren can return to the rest of her night during just another full moon in Haven. (fix)
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Luc's habit of occupying rooms he didn't pay for - nor have the key for - is going to be his ruin one of these days. Maybe today, even. He definitely doesn't wake up in the same place he'd fallen asleep in, in the plush, slightly odd-smelling bed of that cozy little hotel room. No, instead he's curled up with his muscles cramping from discomfort inside... is it a barrel? a crate? Whatever it is, it's certainly not large enough to hold his form comfortably. There's no light or sound in here, just the faint noise of something from outside, and the occasional noise of footsteps upon a stone floor and the clinking of glass against glass. It's not a fun time to be claustrophobic.
Luc might not be claustrophobic, but that didn't make waking up in this situation very much easier. "Oh, fuck," he says - then shuts up, coming to his senses quickly enough to save himself some oxygen. Who knew how well ventilated this thing was? He tries his best to feel for his pockets - if he could get his knife out, that'd make this a lot easier. Of course, they probably didn't leave it on him for that reason, but it was worth checking... only, it was difficult to move at all like this. He considers trying to rock in place and see if the thing will break open around him, but... that would be a bit cheap. /Maybe/ this was all a prank show and that's exactly what he was supposed to do, but better to err on the side of caution. Instead, he lets out a singular, loudly-pitched, "Hello? I'm awake."
Thankfully, there's enough of a gap between the slats of wood forming up his temporary prison that Luc is in no danger of suffocating unless he starts hyperventilating or something. Not so thankfully, he doesn't have his knife on him, so whoever's deemed fit to put him here must have carried out at least a cursory check of his belongings. His phone isn't there either, though he's still fully-clothed, and hey, maybe if he's got a backup-knife somewhere, it'll come in handy right about now.
Luc's words garner no response for long periods - the footsteps were much too far - but they approach again a few minutes later. There's a low creak and the characteristic noise of wood being strained until it breaks, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. They leave.
A few minutes later, the process repeats itself. Footsteps, the creaking of wood, closer this time - another barrel being broken to open, whatever - /whoever/ - is in it being dragged across the floor, footsteps retreating. The next turn will be Luc's, once they return.
Well, if they were being checked, then the downsides of him tipping his barrel-cage-prison over were much reduced. He hated it when people took his knives, though. There's a little sigh, and then Luc does his best to lurch forwards and backwards while keeping himself from tipping over - he'd want some momentum built up before the final impact, so there'd be a better chance of smashing things open. Back, and forth, and back, and forth. He almost catches himself humming along to his work, but instinct thankfully lets him nip that in the bud before it can kick off.
As the narrative unfolds, Lauren's encounter with the supernatural crisis transitions into a delicate task of safeguarding the fragile veil that conceals Haven's true nature from Jo, who is now a direct threat to their clandestine existence. With Jo's hysteria mounting, Lauren musters the patience to lead her away from prying eyes, ensuring her compliance under the guise of care. The arrival of Order operatives introduces a momentary reassurance that Jo's trauma could be managed with their arcane interventions. However, the ordeal leaves an indelible mark on Lauren, reminding her of the ever-present dance with the perilous unknown that residents of Haven must navigate, often sacrificing their peace for the greater good. Amidst the chaos, Luc's storyline serves as a stark juxtaposition – a man trapped, not by the supernatural, but by his own recklessness, hinting at the myriad ways the night can entrap those who wander too close to the edge.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRLuc):SRLuc)
[Mon Mar 25 2024]
In room 105
A lone sleigh bed entices visitors to rest, complete with fluffed white
pillows and a soft cream comforter. The petite room boasts simplicity at
it's finest. Caramel curtains cascade over two arched windows, matching a
study desk set to the side which gives renters a convenient workspace. A
single closet provides space for clothes, standing beside a door which leads
into a complete bathroom.
It is night, about 35F(1C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's snowing outside. 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.
)
It comes without warning. Screaming. Screams of pain, terror, mourning; they shatter the peace of the night like a bullet through glass.
"GOD, PLEASE, NO!" sound out the frantic cries of a young woman. It's hard to say where they're coming from without better hearing, but it must be nearby to make have made it upstairs so audibly. "CALEB! CALEB, BABY! PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP!"
This can't be good. Something had happened, and being that this was Haven and fatal muggings were just about impossible, that something probably was supernatural in origin - and not everyone staying in this part of town knew its secrets. The screaming chokes off into something nonverbal, but that doesn't mean it gets any quieter. Wailing and sobbing carries up throughout the hotel, and the building comes to life as people arouse from their sleep.
"What the fuck...?" Lauren blinks up at the ceiling, then again as she's snapped out of her comfortable, fog-minded reverie by the sudden noise downstairs. The occasional wisp of smoke drifts across the room - god bless no smoke alarm in here - and she takes another drag of her joint before putting it out and away and rising to her feet. She doesn't bother with shoes, just pads along the hotel hallway past half-cracked doors and disgruntled visitors, and leans against the stairway banister to take a peek at what's going on down there.
Lauren's not the first person out the door for this one - she can probably chalk it up to the fog-minded reverie she'd been in. A few other peeping toms have come to get an eye on the damage, and judging by the stench of blood, bile and shit reeking from down below, someone must be torn up to hell and back. O, the joys of the full moon.
"Please, please," comes a tear-wracked sob in a woman's voice, still out of sight - just outside the lobby, sounds like. Right on the streets of the historic district. "A- a wolf. Please. Where is the ambulance? Please, where is the ambulance?" The onlookers stare on with a mixture of shock, sorrow and disgust; one child that evidently has no curfew sits and stares in the corner of the room.
"We... we were just camping behind the hotel... please, please..."
The stench that reaches her nose makes Lauren physically recoil, and there's another quiet little, "fuck..." exhaled, just to really get the point across. "You," she prods her finger into the chest of the nearest person she can find, completely at random. "Call the ambulance." Meanwhile, a short trip back to her room and back brings with her a roll of bandages, for lack of a proper first aid kit, and Lauren descends down the stairs and outside, properly shoe'd this time, to figure out if she can help with poor little Caleb and get a proper look at the situation in the process.
"Been called," drifts the reply, but Lauren's already on the move, grabbing her medkit. Actually getting down there and on the scene doesn't bring any good news, though. Caleb's not-so-little: he's an adult man, dressed for camping, and he is an utterly lost cause. He lies in a pool of blood that's not growing very quickly anymore, with one arm a mauled stump below the elbow. He's been disemboweled, too, with lengths of intestine pulled out through a bloody opening in the man's abdomen. If he is alive, he won't be for much longer. Without forensic knowledge, it's hard to ID the assailant by the wounds - but it's the full moon, and they were attacked in the woods. The logic is there. There's still the question of how this was done under sanctuary, but there's denying the brutality of what Lauren's seeing... and what the young woman kneeling over Caleb's soon-to-be corpse must have seen, as well.
"Fuckin' hell..." There's really not a lot for Lauren to do here with her limited first-aid knowledge, but the least she can do is kneel by the man's side and tie off the stump of Caleb's arm with a tight, tourniquet-esque loop of bandage. There's not a lot to be done about the disembowelment, apart from just making sure the loops of bloody intestine aren't spilling all over the dirty ground. "Hey, calm down," she reaches out to rest a bloodied hand on the woman's shoulder after that, letting the touch serve as a grounding point in an attempt to pull her attention away from the actively-dying Caleb. "Ambulance'll be here in a few. How'd you get away?"
"I-"
The woman's eyes squeeze shut, and a shudder works its way down her spine, and she twists away from Lauren's touch - she won't look away from her dead-or-dying partner. Won't be distracted away from his last moments. "I don't know," she weeps. "It tore into our tent out of - oh, god." Her breath hitches, and she lets out a sob. Whatever she's been through, it's shocked her hard enough to make speaking hard. That might be to the benefit of the town's secrets, but this woman has paid a terrible price. "It came out of nowhere. It - it attacked Caleb, and then it ran away, and all I could do was drag him back to the street. Please - he has to be alright. He has to be alright." She sobs into her hand as she bites onto a knuckle, squeezing her eyes shut again. "It... it wasn't an /animal/. It ran on two legs! It was huge... a monster."
"Hey, shh, breathe, breathe," Lauren doesn't force her to look away from Caleb, and her hand slips down to pat the woman's back gently. There's a Look at the nearest hotel employee - where the fuck is the ambulance? "Deeeep breaths," she tells the woman, "It's okay to be a little confused. He'll be fine, though. The ambulance will be here any second..." Technically a lie, but hey, what's to say he /won't/ be fine?! Surely miracles can happen. Lauren looks down at Caleb with a grimace - is he still breathing? - and then turns her attention back to the woman. "Deep breaths. The creatures in the woods around here can get to be huge, yeah. 's not a good idea to camp back there." There's a wince right after - wrong thing to say right now. "Shit, uhh, I mean. You couldn't have known. Uhh..."
Even if the unnamed woman does draw in towards herself with the unwitting chastisement from Lauren, it's not as if she could get much more upset than she already was. She doesn't make any complaints, even if they might be swimming around under there - Why aren't there any signs? Why is nothing being done about this? - but she does go back to shaking Caleb by the shoulder. "Baby," she cries. "Please, baby, wake up. Caleb!" At least she's not screaming. There's a whine in the distance as the ambulance crosses Franklin Bridge, its sirens playing out hauntingly over the moonlit bay, and it's not long before the vehicle pulls up and a pair of White Oak paramedics burst out the back, stretcher in tow.
"Clear the way!" they command, and the crowd disperses quickly; a testament to the severity of the man's mauling. "Christ in Heaven above," the first of the medics swears, shocked and pitying at once. Up close, he's wearing a strange collar - a little like a clerical collar, only metallic... and imbued with some measure of arcane power, to Lauren's eyes. "Get his feet," he instructs, to the younger of the pair, who quickly complies. "We're going to get him stable, but he'll have to be transferred to Massachusetts General Hospital, okay? We can't take you with us for now." They load him up onto the stretcher, and the younger of the pair gets him into the ambulance alone as the elder collects identification from the woman at Lauren's side. When they depart, she sits there numbly, clearly in shock. "It was a monster," she whispers again, to no one in particular. "A monster ate my husband..."
"Hold up, hey," Lauren quickly climbs to her feet after the paramedics once they've taken the woman's identification, reaching out to grab at the elbow of the one with the collar before they can depart, "Cauterize him," she tells him simply before letting go, not wanting to delay the man's treatment any further. There's a glance over at the mauled man at the back of the ambulance, but there's not anything more for Lauren to do regarding that - instead, she makes her way back over to the woman, helping her to her feet and attempting to pull her inside into the hotel's lobby. "C'mon, lets get you sorted out. Drink some water, calm down, wash off the blood, get your head straight, and we can go visit the hospital so you can see Caleb, yeah?" She's steadily refusing to acknowledge the 'monster' assumptions - it's a woman in shock, surely she doesn't know what she's talking about, right? Even if she does.
"We'll do what we can, Miss," replies the paramedic, and as he turns to gently brush Lauren's hand from his shoulder, there's a flash of white like. It's not unfamiliar to Lauren, though it's been some time since she was a mortal Sensitive. The white light pours from the paramedic's skin, and the massive pair of angelic wings that sprout from his back. "Worry not," murmurs the man with the glowing, golden circlet. Then that brief glimpse into the paramedic's manifestation is gone, and she's faced with the wingless, human back of the figure as he steps into the ambulance and shuts the doors behind him.
"I - I don't have a shower," stammers the young woman. "Um. Um, my name is Jo. Oh, god, Caleb..." She drops her head into her hands, then gets back up onto wobbly feet, trying to stifle the tears leaking down her face. "But... the monster. Please, it's not safe - we have to get out of here!" Her voice picks up in volume as her eyes widen, whipping her head from bystander to bystander, to the child who's just seen their first dead body - or nearly dead, anyway. "THERE'S - THERE'S A MONSTER! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!" Her breathing comes hard and fast, and it's evident that the woman is about to spiral into some well-reasoned hysteria in the next few minutes.
Lauren winces at the sudden loud noise, and the fact that it would be very fuckin' rude to do that is the only thing that keeps her from slapping a hand upon the woman's mouth. "Hey," she says instead, the very picture of calm. The lingering high from her smoking does help. "I have a bath, upstairs. Let's get you in it. Let's not scare poor innocent bystanders, yeah? Nobody should be going out at this time of the night. It's safe in here." There's irritation in her voice after when she calls out, while attempting to steer the woman - Jo - out of the public eye where she can call in one of the more experience hypnotists of the Order and have them 'reassure' her that it was, indeed, an animal attack. "And someone get that kid outta here and into bed, Jesus Christ."
It would turn out that small-town Americans are simultaneously very good at not freaking out about stuff while also spreading gossip at speeds that rival NSA supercomputers. Steering the woman out of the crowd and into the hotel works, at least, but the few aware in the crowd aren't enough to stifle the spreading rumour of a 'monster attack' by the hotel. Of course, the unaware are treating it more as a flight of fancy than a real threat, but it's not as clean as anyone would like it to be. Who knows what happens to the kid, either.
Jo alternates between stubbornness and compliance, as Lauren might expect. She freezes twice up the stairways, but a hand on her back or shoulder is enough to get her legs working again, even if on autopilot. "Thank you," she whispers, once they're inside the hotel room. "God... I can't believe this is happening. Do you think he'll be okay?"
"He'll be fine," Lauren reassures the woman, letting Jo sit on the bed and moving first to wash her hands clean of any blood before she starts up the bath. "It's just the full moon, you know how wild animals act up during this time of the month." She keeps a close eye on the woman while she's speaking, just looking for her reaction. "Why don't you get in the bath, and I'll call someone who can drive you to the hospital?" She pulls up her phone - unfortunately not to call for a driver, but to send a text over the Order comms - 'S.O.S need someone in the hotel for damage control/cover up, room 105' should do it for now. Jo's in great hands, really.
"Wait, um -" Jo's hands come to grip tightly around Lauren's arm. "Could, uh, you stay by the door? Or something? I don't want to be alone right now. Please?" A bath is certainly going to do her good - up close and alone, it's easy to see how dirty the woman got herself as she dragged her boyfriend clear of the woods. It must have taken an act of desperate strength. Still, her hands are caked with blood and dirth, and her face isn't doing all that much better."
It takes about half an hour for the knock at the door to come, and when they let themselves inside, the Orderites reveal themselves to be a tall, thin man and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a big, maternal smile - comforting and calming and somehow inspiring the idea there might be freshly-baked cookies or muffins at the end of all of this. Lauren's stuck keeping Jo as calm as she can while she cleans up, which does take away from her time allotted to getting blitzed out of her fucking mind and staring at the roof, but duty had a funny way of not paying much heed to scheduling.
When they're done, the tall man introduces himself as being the local ranger, who needed to take details - a white lie, of course, to get the conversation going. Details are collected, soothing words are shared, and then the tall fellow hands his number over to Lauren while the older woman escorts a stupefied-looking Jo from the room.
"We're going to take her in for a few days," he murmurs. "We're going to have to approach this one with some fake memories, alchemy, all of that. Can't just make a dream out of this. Thanks for calling - we'll let you know how it goes, alright?" And then he's leaving, too, and Lauren can return to the rest of her night during just another full moon in Haven."
"Wait, um -" Jo's hands come to grip tightly around Lauren's arm. "Could, uh, you stay by the door? Or something? I don't want to be alone right now. Please?" A bath is certainly going to do her good - up close and alone, it's easy to see how dirty the woman got herself as she dragged her boyfriend clear of the woods. It must have taken an act of desperate strength. Still, her hands are caked with blood and dirth, and her face isn't doing all that much better.
It takes about half an hour for the knock at the door to come, and when they let themselves inside, the Orderites reveal themselves to be a tall, thin man and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a big, maternal smile - comforting and calming and somehow inspiring the idea there might be freshly-baked cookies or muffins at the end of all of this. Lauren's stuck keeping Jo as calm as she can while she cleans up, which does take away from her time allotted to getting blitzed out of her fucking mind and staring at the roof, but duty had a funny way of not paying much heed to scheduling.
When they're done, the tall man introduces himself as being the local ranger, who needed to take details - a white lie, of course, to get the conversation going. Details are collected, soothing words are shared, and then the tall fellow hands his number over to Lauren while the older woman escorts a stupefied-looking Jo from the room.
"We're going to take her in for a few days," he murmurs. "We're going to have to approach this one with some fake memories, alchemy, all of that. Can't just make a dream out of this. Thanks for calling - we'll let you know how it goes, alright?" And then he's leaving, too, and Lauren can return to the rest of her night during just another full moon in Haven. (fix)
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Luc's habit of occupying rooms he didn't pay for - nor have the key for - is going to be his ruin one of these days. Maybe today, even. He definitely doesn't wake up in the same place he'd fallen asleep in, in the plush, slightly odd-smelling bed of that cozy little hotel room. No, instead he's curled up with his muscles cramping from discomfort inside... is it a barrel? a crate? Whatever it is, it's certainly not large enough to hold his form comfortably. There's no light or sound in here, just the faint noise of something from outside, and the occasional noise of footsteps upon a stone floor and the clinking of glass against glass. It's not a fun time to be claustrophobic.
Luc might not be claustrophobic, but that didn't make waking up in this situation very much easier. "Oh, fuck," he says - then shuts up, coming to his senses quickly enough to save himself some oxygen. Who knew how well ventilated this thing was? He tries his best to feel for his pockets - if he could get his knife out, that'd make this a lot easier. Of course, they probably didn't leave it on him for that reason, but it was worth checking... only, it was difficult to move at all like this. He considers trying to rock in place and see if the thing will break open around him, but... that would be a bit cheap. /Maybe/ this was all a prank show and that's exactly what he was supposed to do, but better to err on the side of caution. Instead, he lets out a singular, loudly-pitched, "Hello? I'm awake."
Thankfully, there's enough of a gap between the slats of wood forming up his temporary prison that Luc is in no danger of suffocating unless he starts hyperventilating or something. Not so thankfully, he doesn't have his knife on him, so whoever's deemed fit to put him here must have carried out at least a cursory check of his belongings. His phone isn't there either, though he's still fully-clothed, and hey, maybe if he's got a backup-knife somewhere, it'll come in handy right about now.
Luc's words garner no response for long periods - the footsteps were much too far - but they approach again a few minutes later. There's a low creak and the characteristic noise of wood being strained until it breaks, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. They leave.
A few minutes later, the process repeats itself. Footsteps, the creaking of wood, closer this time - another barrel being broken to open, whatever - /whoever/ - is in it being dragged across the floor, footsteps retreating. The next turn will be Luc's, once they return.
Well, if they were being checked, then the downsides of him tipping his barrel-cage-prison over were much reduced. He hated it when people took his knives, though. There's a little sigh, and then Luc does his best to lurch forwards and backwards while keeping himself from tipping over - he'd want some momentum built up before the final impact, so there'd be a better chance of smashing things open. Back, and forth, and back, and forth. He almost catches himself humming along to his work, but instinct thankfully lets him nip that in the bud before it can kick off.