Encounterlogs
Serenas Odd Encounter Sr Evan 250411
In the quaint yet mysterious town of Haven, Serena experiences an unsettling night fraught with supernatural disturbances, marked initially by the ominous howling of wolves outside her coastal-charm-filled living room. The serenity of the room is shattered when an angry spirit invades, enveloping Serena in a shroud of cold and commanding her to find a weapon and deliver pain. The spirit, fluctuating between screams and whispers, fails to gain complete control over her, but its insistence on causing pain leads Serena to an odd choice of “weapons”: first, a banana cream pie, and then, a potted succulent, neither of which satisfies the spirit's thirst for violence.
The encounter escalates as the spirit, using Serena's voice against her, demands she inflict pain upon herself with the succulent pot. Despite her desire to resist, Serena is momentarily swayed by the spirit's coercion, leading to a desperate and ultimately futile attempt to seek refuge in the shower. The spirit's relentless commands drive her to self-harm, striking herself with the pot. However, when Serena is propelled by a mix of fear and obedience to contemplate a greater violence outside, her resistance culminates in an appeal to the spirit that reveals her physical and emotional exhaustion. Deeming her "useless" in a venomous retort, the spirit departs as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving Serena injured and shaken, alone amidst the ruins of her once-peaceful living room, symbolizing not just the physical but the emotional havoc the encounter has wrought.
(Serena's odd encounter(SREvan):SREvan)
[Thu Apr 10 2025]
In A spacious living room
At the room's heart is a low glass coffee table holding a curated selection of well-loved magazines and small seashells, enhancing the quiet coastal charm that pervades the living spaces.
Skylights stretch across the ceiling, framing an uninterrupted view of the sky above. Either white snow, the pitter-patter of water, or the golden glow of filtered sunlight.
Freestanding shelves line the available walls filled with sand-colored spines, a few small potted succulents, and a model ship poised as if ready to set sail.
It is night, about 58F(14C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a full moon.
(Your target is possessed by an angry spirit that is forcing them to act out and putting themselves and/or others at risk. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Haven. A town that on the outside looking in could be considered quiet, but to everyone else in the know? Everyone who's Aware? They'd all have an entirely different tune to sing. A few stormclouds hang in the sky. A full moon glares brightly.
A howl pierces the quiet solitude of Serena's night. Ah. Haven. Where wolves among other things linger the forests.
Another howl fills the room. Then a third.
Then, there's quiet. And Serena can be at peace again. Or so she may think. It's fortunate for her, really, that she's in Haven. Because almost all the stories are true, and most people don't get much of a peaceful break. There's always something happening, and generally, it's never something good.
Soon a cold begins to fill the room, creeping over every inch of Serena's exposed flesh. Another sound pierces that veil, this time it's not a howl. But a scream. It's loud, and it sounds angry - and a presence, a being might be felt in the room.
Another moment of quiet, of peace, before a cold presence slams into Serena, the cold seeping into her very core.
Serena lays upon the sofa, barefoot, reading a book. She pauses as she hears the howls, a shiver sent through her body. For she knows what it could entail, and it's nothing good. At least not now, not during these times. That momentary shiver only grows stronger and stronger, before the SLAM of that cold presence seeps a numb chill into her heart.
Serena gasps, the book falling from her hands onto the floor, showing off its cover: Emotional Vampires: Dealing with People Who Drain you Dry by Albert J. Bernstein, PhD.
That's some interesting irony, Serena reading a book about being drained dry - though, this presence doesn't feel batlike in nature. It does not feel very bitey, either.
No, it's an entirely angry presence, cold beginning to seep into her extremities. "AHHHH!" a voice screams inside Serena's head. "FINALLY!"
It's loud, so loud - rattling around inside her skull. More and more that coldness creeps up Serena, fully engulfing her toes. It probably won't cause her to freeze to death - probably. But that's left to be seen.
Serena lets out a scream as that voice screams in her head. Her hands reach up immediately to cradle her head in her arms. "Fuck!!" And after the cursing, with her body still trembling from the numb cold, she calls out aloud, "Who are you?! What do you want?!"
"PAIN! I WANT PAIN!" the voice screams back at her. "Angry.. So.. so angry, and cold," these words are whispered. The spirit in her head, now possessing her doesn't seem particularly stable going from screaming one day, to immediately whispering the next. "Weapon. Find a weapon! HURT. FIGHT! KILL!" The spirit rocks Serena, trying to force her to get up - a call to arms, a call to action. It wants her to obey, urging her to obey, though it doesn't have complete control. It's a push, a headstart. "PAINN!!" It screams again.
Serena hugs herself, rocking back and forth on the sofa as the voice screams and screams in her head. It's painful already, this mental anguish. But what is closest at hand?
A banana cream pie withe grated chocolate atop it sits upon the nearest surface. And for whatever reason, it's the first thing that Serena sees, and the first thing she grabs. "AHHHHH!!!"
That voice laughs, "WHAT IS THAT?" It calls, trying it's best to force her forward, to inspect the weapon of mass destruction. "Is that a.." The angry spirt seems entirely confused as to what just happened. "YOU IDIOT!" It calls, voice shifting - changing, never staying the same. At one point, it somehow takes on the voice of Serena itself - like it's reading her thoughts, pulling emotions from her. Playing on her mental state - picking at it. "THAT'S A CAKE. THAT'S NOT A WEAPON! FIND A WEAPON!"
Serena crushes the banana cream pie in her hand. Her eyes grow a little watery at the sight, she seems to have actually been saving that. Maybe for a special occasion? But now it's just a pastry mush in her tightened fist.
She springs to her feet, bits of pastry falling to the floor and picks up the next closest thing: a potted succulent, which she brandishes.
"BETTER!" It yells, "NOW," the voice cackles. "SMASH IT OVER YOUR HEAD!" The spirit never has complete control over Serena it doesn't seem strong enough. That coldness creeps further up her feet - seeping into her ankles. "DO IT!" It commands. "PAIN. HURT! FEEL IT!"
The voice locks in, this time not shifting - it's Serena's own voice commanding her, telling her to do things. Urging her. This is good for you, it seems to coo in one ear, it'll help, in another.
Serena holds the potted succulent over her head. Her arms tremble, as if the pot were horribly heavy. And it seems she doesn't want to do this, but the voice egging her on is a terrible, terrible influence. Tears start to fall down her face. "Please, don't make me do this! How can I help you? Anything else!"
"BUT I WANT PAIN!" Serena's own voice shouts back at her. "THERE'S NOTHING ELSE YOU CAN DO! DO IT! OR FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HIT! I DON'T CARE! PAIN!" It bellows, gnawing at her. Despite the cold beginning to trail up along her ankles further and further, there's an adrenaline. It wants Serena to act, to move. To do SOMETHING. Really, it wants pain.
Serena uses all of her force of will to drop the succulent onto the ground and sprint into the shower, if possible. Because surely that is a place where she cannot harm herself? She screams in effort as she tries to wrench her freezing cold body in that direction.
That poor, poor succulent. It hits the ground with a sm-. Nope, it didn't break.
The spirits fights against Serena, but she's stronger able to pull herself into the shower without much struggle. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" It screams at her, "GO BACK OUT THERE!" It commands trying to order her around. "WEAPON! NOW!" Every part of Serena seems to be crying out in a symphony of action, but her willpower seems fully intact. "DO NOT DISOBEY ME. YOU WILL NOT LIKE TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS!"
Serena takes a step into the shower, but then that grip of fear and pain takes ahold as the voice bellows in her mind. She whimpers, still crying, and bursts out of the shower and back into the living room. She throws herself upon the floor, kneeling, her kneecaps burned by the friction as she reaches desperately for that succulent pot, bringing it up in the air before bringing it crashing down on her head with a scream!
"YESS!! GOOOD!!!" The voice cackles, an evil sounding laugh. "GOOD. YOU OBEYED! NOW," it continues, trying to push her more and more. There's a happiness from the spirit now, "Are you ready to fight?" It whispers. "You can obey commands, that is what I want." The voice shifts, a soothing sort of voice. "Go outside. We're going to find you a weapon."
There's a bruising on top of her head, and a little bit of blood too. Serena starts crying again from the pain, both upon her head and in it from the voice. She scrambles for her cell phone, intent on trying to find help.
"THAT WON'T HELP YOU!" It tries to force Serena to stand up. "GET UP! UP UP UP!" Then, softly and shortly afterwards. "Please? Could you do that for me? Can you get up?" Maybe niceness will help more, who knows?
Serena sobs on the floor, a trickle of blood running down her face. "I don't think I can get up. My head hurts," she says to whatever the fuck is in her brain. "I'm sorry, I"
Serena breaks off to sob and then continues. "Please, I'm sorry... is there... anything else?"
"No," The voice whispers. "If you can not get up you are useless." The soothing voice disappears, replaced by one of pure venom. Soon that coldness seems to disappear, fading away from Serena as quickly as it came. "Pathetic. Useless. YOU ARE NOTHING." It calls, voice already slipping away - a gentle warmth filling the room. "GET BETTER!" It yells, before completely fading - all the cold gone. And then it's back to that eerie silence of Haven. No howling wolves, just a calm, quiet peace.
Serena blinks in confusion, that little trickle of blood continuing down her cheek, leaking from where that succulent pot hit her skull. She's surrounded by dirt, succulent parts, and mashed up pastry. It's not a good look in any context, and the poor woman bursts out into a fresh set of tears.
The encounter escalates as the spirit, using Serena's voice against her, demands she inflict pain upon herself with the succulent pot. Despite her desire to resist, Serena is momentarily swayed by the spirit's coercion, leading to a desperate and ultimately futile attempt to seek refuge in the shower. The spirit's relentless commands drive her to self-harm, striking herself with the pot. However, when Serena is propelled by a mix of fear and obedience to contemplate a greater violence outside, her resistance culminates in an appeal to the spirit that reveals her physical and emotional exhaustion. Deeming her "useless" in a venomous retort, the spirit departs as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving Serena injured and shaken, alone amidst the ruins of her once-peaceful living room, symbolizing not just the physical but the emotional havoc the encounter has wrought.
(Serena's odd encounter(SREvan):SREvan)
[Thu Apr 10 2025]
In A spacious living room
At the room's heart is a low glass coffee table holding a curated selection of well-loved magazines and small seashells, enhancing the quiet coastal charm that pervades the living spaces.
Skylights stretch across the ceiling, framing an uninterrupted view of the sky above. Either white snow, the pitter-patter of water, or the golden glow of filtered sunlight.
Freestanding shelves line the available walls filled with sand-colored spines, a few small potted succulents, and a model ship poised as if ready to set sail.
It is night, about 58F(14C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a full moon.
(Your target is possessed by an angry spirit that is forcing them to act out and putting themselves and/or others at risk. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Haven. A town that on the outside looking in could be considered quiet, but to everyone else in the know? Everyone who's Aware? They'd all have an entirely different tune to sing. A few stormclouds hang in the sky. A full moon glares brightly.
A howl pierces the quiet solitude of Serena's night. Ah. Haven. Where wolves among other things linger the forests.
Another howl fills the room. Then a third.
Then, there's quiet. And Serena can be at peace again. Or so she may think. It's fortunate for her, really, that she's in Haven. Because almost all the stories are true, and most people don't get much of a peaceful break. There's always something happening, and generally, it's never something good.
Soon a cold begins to fill the room, creeping over every inch of Serena's exposed flesh. Another sound pierces that veil, this time it's not a howl. But a scream. It's loud, and it sounds angry - and a presence, a being might be felt in the room.
Another moment of quiet, of peace, before a cold presence slams into Serena, the cold seeping into her very core.
Serena lays upon the sofa, barefoot, reading a book. She pauses as she hears the howls, a shiver sent through her body. For she knows what it could entail, and it's nothing good. At least not now, not during these times. That momentary shiver only grows stronger and stronger, before the SLAM of that cold presence seeps a numb chill into her heart.
Serena gasps, the book falling from her hands onto the floor, showing off its cover: Emotional Vampires: Dealing with People Who Drain you Dry by Albert J. Bernstein, PhD.
That's some interesting irony, Serena reading a book about being drained dry - though, this presence doesn't feel batlike in nature. It does not feel very bitey, either.
No, it's an entirely angry presence, cold beginning to seep into her extremities. "AHHHH!" a voice screams inside Serena's head. "FINALLY!"
It's loud, so loud - rattling around inside her skull. More and more that coldness creeps up Serena, fully engulfing her toes. It probably won't cause her to freeze to death - probably. But that's left to be seen.
Serena lets out a scream as that voice screams in her head. Her hands reach up immediately to cradle her head in her arms. "Fuck!!" And after the cursing, with her body still trembling from the numb cold, she calls out aloud, "Who are you?! What do you want?!"
"PAIN! I WANT PAIN!" the voice screams back at her. "Angry.. So.. so angry, and cold," these words are whispered. The spirit in her head, now possessing her doesn't seem particularly stable going from screaming one day, to immediately whispering the next. "Weapon. Find a weapon! HURT. FIGHT! KILL!" The spirit rocks Serena, trying to force her to get up - a call to arms, a call to action. It wants her to obey, urging her to obey, though it doesn't have complete control. It's a push, a headstart. "PAINN!!" It screams again.
Serena hugs herself, rocking back and forth on the sofa as the voice screams and screams in her head. It's painful already, this mental anguish. But what is closest at hand?
A banana cream pie withe grated chocolate atop it sits upon the nearest surface. And for whatever reason, it's the first thing that Serena sees, and the first thing she grabs. "AHHHHH!!!"
That voice laughs, "WHAT IS THAT?" It calls, trying it's best to force her forward, to inspect the weapon of mass destruction. "Is that a.." The angry spirt seems entirely confused as to what just happened. "YOU IDIOT!" It calls, voice shifting - changing, never staying the same. At one point, it somehow takes on the voice of Serena itself - like it's reading her thoughts, pulling emotions from her. Playing on her mental state - picking at it. "THAT'S A CAKE. THAT'S NOT A WEAPON! FIND A WEAPON!"
Serena crushes the banana cream pie in her hand. Her eyes grow a little watery at the sight, she seems to have actually been saving that. Maybe for a special occasion? But now it's just a pastry mush in her tightened fist.
She springs to her feet, bits of pastry falling to the floor and picks up the next closest thing: a potted succulent, which she brandishes.
"BETTER!" It yells, "NOW," the voice cackles. "SMASH IT OVER YOUR HEAD!" The spirit never has complete control over Serena it doesn't seem strong enough. That coldness creeps further up her feet - seeping into her ankles. "DO IT!" It commands. "PAIN. HURT! FEEL IT!"
The voice locks in, this time not shifting - it's Serena's own voice commanding her, telling her to do things. Urging her. This is good for you, it seems to coo in one ear, it'll help, in another.
Serena holds the potted succulent over her head. Her arms tremble, as if the pot were horribly heavy. And it seems she doesn't want to do this, but the voice egging her on is a terrible, terrible influence. Tears start to fall down her face. "Please, don't make me do this! How can I help you? Anything else!"
"BUT I WANT PAIN!" Serena's own voice shouts back at her. "THERE'S NOTHING ELSE YOU CAN DO! DO IT! OR FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HIT! I DON'T CARE! PAIN!" It bellows, gnawing at her. Despite the cold beginning to trail up along her ankles further and further, there's an adrenaline. It wants Serena to act, to move. To do SOMETHING. Really, it wants pain.
Serena uses all of her force of will to drop the succulent onto the ground and sprint into the shower, if possible. Because surely that is a place where she cannot harm herself? She screams in effort as she tries to wrench her freezing cold body in that direction.
That poor, poor succulent. It hits the ground with a sm-. Nope, it didn't break.
The spirits fights against Serena, but she's stronger able to pull herself into the shower without much struggle. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" It screams at her, "GO BACK OUT THERE!" It commands trying to order her around. "WEAPON! NOW!" Every part of Serena seems to be crying out in a symphony of action, but her willpower seems fully intact. "DO NOT DISOBEY ME. YOU WILL NOT LIKE TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS!"
Serena takes a step into the shower, but then that grip of fear and pain takes ahold as the voice bellows in her mind. She whimpers, still crying, and bursts out of the shower and back into the living room. She throws herself upon the floor, kneeling, her kneecaps burned by the friction as she reaches desperately for that succulent pot, bringing it up in the air before bringing it crashing down on her head with a scream!
"YESS!! GOOOD!!!" The voice cackles, an evil sounding laugh. "GOOD. YOU OBEYED! NOW," it continues, trying to push her more and more. There's a happiness from the spirit now, "Are you ready to fight?" It whispers. "You can obey commands, that is what I want." The voice shifts, a soothing sort of voice. "Go outside. We're going to find you a weapon."
There's a bruising on top of her head, and a little bit of blood too. Serena starts crying again from the pain, both upon her head and in it from the voice. She scrambles for her cell phone, intent on trying to find help.
"THAT WON'T HELP YOU!" It tries to force Serena to stand up. "GET UP! UP UP UP!" Then, softly and shortly afterwards. "Please? Could you do that for me? Can you get up?" Maybe niceness will help more, who knows?
Serena sobs on the floor, a trickle of blood running down her face. "I don't think I can get up. My head hurts," she says to whatever the fuck is in her brain. "I'm sorry, I"
Serena breaks off to sob and then continues. "Please, I'm sorry... is there... anything else?"
"No," The voice whispers. "If you can not get up you are useless." The soothing voice disappears, replaced by one of pure venom. Soon that coldness seems to disappear, fading away from Serena as quickly as it came. "Pathetic. Useless. YOU ARE NOTHING." It calls, voice already slipping away - a gentle warmth filling the room. "GET BETTER!" It yells, before completely fading - all the cold gone. And then it's back to that eerie silence of Haven. No howling wolves, just a calm, quiet peace.
Serena blinks in confusion, that little trickle of blood continuing down her cheek, leaking from where that succulent pot hit her skull. She's surrounded by dirt, succulent parts, and mashed up pastry. It's not a good look in any context, and the poor woman bursts out into a fresh set of tears.