Encounterlogs
Williams Odd Encounter Sr Fayad 240930
In an unsettling encounter at the shipping yard, William stumbles upon a mysterious and eloquent cultist from The Black Flame, who seeks to recruit him into their ranks. The cultist preys on William's apparent vulnerability, offering him solace from his strife through the embracing of chaos, transformation, and a new world order. Despite the heavy atmospheric tension and the cultist's compelling speech, William remains skeptic and unswayed, his demeanor reflecting disbelief and a desire to leave. Even when the cultist ominously warns William of regretting his decision to walk away, William, anchored by his rationale, manages to extricate himself from the situation while contacting a police acquaintance about the odd encounter. His brush with the cultist ends without altercation, implying that the perceived safety of Haven deters the cultist from pursuing any harmful actions.
Meanwhile, Emmelline's quiet evening at home takes a haunting turn as she encounters the ghost of a young girl in her trailer, materializing with an eerie presence and a disturbing gunshot wound on her forehead. Initially disposed to help, Emma's attempt to call emergency services is derailed by the spectral nature of the girl, whose desperate search for her father quickly escalates into an aggressive confrontation. Frozen with fear and confusion, Emmelline's survival instincts kick in, leading her to desperately attempt an escape. Confronted by the impassable door, her last resort is an open window — a testament to her frantic state and the unsettling power the ghost holds. This unfortunate incident leaves her contemplating the limits of her understanding and the stark realities of Haven's paranormal underbelly, far from the mundanity of her usual routine.
(William's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sun Sep 29 2024]
At the shipping yard
It is afternoon, about 76F(24C) degrees, and the sky is covered by grey clouds.
(Your target discovers that a seemingly innocuous local politician is actually a high-ranking member of The Black Flame cult. They've been using their position of power to quietly further the cult's agenda, such as passing laws that subtly allow for the cult's rituals, or diverting public funds into the cult's coffers. The politician is cautious, clever, and has a group of loyal followers who will protect them at all costs. The characters must expose the politician's true allegiances to the public, stop their devious plan, and neutralize the politician's followers, all without attracting too much unwanted attention.)
Filled with tension and grievance thanks to a series of heated arguments, William walks through the labyrinth of shipping containers in the yard, unaware of the attention William had drawn. From the shadows, a figure emerges - a man clad in dark, flowing robes, emblazoned with an obsidian, flame-wreathed globe upon the lapel and cufflinks. The man approaches William with an air of unsettling calm, his presence palpable in the charged atmosphere of the growing twilight. Thriving on vulnerability, the Black Flame seems to be approaching William as their most recent mark - their modus operandi of seeking out individuals that seem lost or conflicted may result in a new cultist being born today.
"Are you having a good day? I don't think so," he murmurs, in greeting towards William. "Could I have but a moment of your time?" Taking advantage of the Cleanse to approach Havenites without fear of supernatural resistance, he would launch into his recruitment speech without waiting for William's consent.
"Ah, young man, I can see the burden you carry. The weight of your conflict with your kin must feel like an insurmountable shadow. It gnaws at your spirit, doesn't it? You stand at the precipice of despair, ripe for a deeper understanding of the universe and your place within it. You see, the world is not as it seems. We cling to our mundane lives, terrified of the unknown, yet it is the unknown that holds the key to liberation. The Black Flame offers a path - a chance to embrace the chaos that will engulf the world. The coming flame is not to be feared, but it is the harbinger of transformation."
"Imagine a world where the shackles of familial strife and societal expectation crumble to ash. Picture the cleansing fire sweeping away the pain and turmoil, revealing a new order - a world reborn. This is not merely destruction; it is evolution. You are not alone in your struggles, William. Many have felt the isolation that comes from conflict. But what if I told you there is a greater purpose? What if you could be part of something much larger than yourself?" He pauses, allowing his words to sink in.
William stops in his tracks the moment the odd man in the strange attire manifests itself before him, or well, more likely creeped around, given the pressence of the Cleanse suppressing any magical acts within the town. That was something that made him calm at the situation, at least calmer than he would be were it not for the scheme, yet he didn't quite trust the mysterious figure, no one with good intentions awaits in a dark place to stop by lonely bystanders.
He quirks an eyebrow more and more as the speech continues, with a face not lacking knowledge but conviction in what the figure was saying, skeptic and not buying anything that the hooded pressence offered. It was clear in his expression, as well as in his body language, torso turning sideways as if to continue walking in some other direction, and legs retreating ever so slightly while bending a tad, just ready to start running would it be necessary.
With a deep breath, he finally opens his mouth, letting his voice out with a heavy English accent "Well, excuse me. I don't know how you've gotten my name, or who you are, but I doubt you understand in the slightest any of my issues, and I doubt their solution is a new world order. Hold your horses a bit, I've just had a rought day, I don't want to rebuild society about it... So if you excuse me, I think I'll be on my way..."
As he finishes his line, his phone beeps, drawing his gaze down to it, it was from one of his acquaintances, answering to a request for help sent earlier today a bit too late. The woman happened to be in the police force, and a Deputy, so he keeps the phone closer to his chest, debating answering before typing real quick and without losing sight of the man, the words 'Well, what I texted you about is over. But I am by the containers, there's someone weird here that stopped me'
"Ah, but dear," the robed man says, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with a subtle, unsettling undertone of threat. "You misunderstand the nature of my proposition. It is not a mere societal overhaul I propose, but a reclamation of your very essence, a liberation from the binds of strife and the weight of expectation. You may feel adrift now, but this turmoil is but a precursor to awakening, a necessary fire to temper your spirit."
"Chaos," the cultist continues, his eyes glinting with fervor. "It is the crucible of creation, my young friend. You stand upon the threshold of possibility, and I can guide you through the flames. Others have walked this path, have embraced the inevitability of change, and they have risen to power, shedding the shackles of their former selves. Do not shy away from the fire - it is your greatest ally. You will not have another such glorious chance as this."
At that thought, his expression shifts, his shadowed features twisting in annoyance before it is marshalled into unsettling calm once more. "You may walk away, William, but know this: the flame is patient. It will await you, lurking in the shadows, until you are ready to embrace it. The choice is always yours - yet choices have consequences."
With a quirk of the other eyebrow, he takes a couple steps back as the tone of the man begins shifting, posture bending as well, again, getting ready in case he needs to flee, despite the option the man is giving of walking away, he is still for some reason suspicious of doing so at a slow pace of walking, or without looking his way while he does so.
A sigh follows, and William with a speech quite more casual replies "Look... I am quite good with things as they- Well, they could change a little, but I am not one for embracing chaos, had way too much of that since I got here and I'd appreciate a rest" Adding on top of it a wave of a dismissive hand.
"I don't know what kind of people you normally stop, but I am not one that will be swayed by some fancy wording and pretty promises without any kind of basis... So if that is all you have to offer, I beg you excuse my leave" His feet beginning to take steps away from the hooded man, though his body not turning around to look to the front, keeping his eyes on the mysterious figure, fearing maybe he was going to be chased, or shot behind his back.
The robed and cowled man slides back into the shadows of the shipping containers, clearly fell in wrath but not willing to assault William in the town of Haven itself, the name living up to its aspirations, it seems. All William gets shot towards him is the vicious phrase, "You will regret your decisions in the future."
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Emmelline is just hanging out, idly tapping on her phone, perhaps flicking thorugh social media, or texting with someone.
Another evening in Haven. Emma is sitting at home, resting in her cramped trailer, alternating between sending texts and checking out people's pages and posts on MyHaven. If nothing else, it is a relaxing activity, because after a time it all starts to blur together and numbs the mind a bit. Then, a sound. Faint, at first, and mistaken for perhaps an ad on a site. Then, a bit louder, and unmistakably coming from the real world. Crying, and hitching gasps for breath.
"What the bloody hell?," Emmelline says, as she wakes from the stuper she was in moments ago. "What the hell was that?," she wonders to herself, as she makes for a window to see what might be going on outside.
Outside the window, the last vestiges of sun splatter through the trees to dapple the trailer park in fading light. But there's no one in sight. And yet, the crying persists. It sounds a bit louder now, the sobs coming more frequently and the breaths more sporadically. Someone nearby is sobbing, tears of absolute heartbreak by the sound of it.
"Huh there's nothing out there," Emmelline says, a mixture of both curiosity and concern crossing her countenance. She cracks the window a bit. "Hello?," she calls out. Seeing if she might be able to catch the attention of whomever might be out there. "Wonder if it's one of the neighbors or something," she ponders to herself.
"H-h-hello? Is s-someone there? Papa, is that y-you?" Emma hears a voice say in between sobs. But it sounds close. Almost as if it is coming from behind her. But that can't be. Can it?
"What the bloody hell," Emmelline says, now truly alarmed, as she whirls to look behind her. Though even as she does so, she keeps one eye out on the open window, lest something come through there whilst her back is turned. So her head is half tilted looking over the shoulder, and the other trying to see what might be in front of her.
turns partly away from the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flicker of movement from the sofa bed. Where a moment ago, she was alone, now she is not. There is a young girl sitting on the end of the bed, her face in her hands as she cries. As if that wasn't strange enough, the girl appears to be dressed in clothing that is well out of date. A poodle-skirt, white with black trim, a cream-colored sweater, and honest-to-goodness Mary Janes. Her hair is tied back with a red ribbon. At a guess, she looks to be young. A teenager, perhaps?
Emma turns partly away from the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flicker of movement from the sofa bed. Where a moment ago, she was alone, now she is not. There is a young girl sitting on the end of the bed, her face in her hands as she cries. As if that wasn't strange enough, the girl appears to be dressed in clothing that is well out of date. A poodle-skirt, white with black trim, a cream-colored sweater, and honest-to-goodness Mary Janes. Her hair is tied back with a red ribbon. At a guess, she looks to be young. A teenager, perhaps? (fix)
Emmelline starts as she sees the figure, that most certainly wasn't there before. She lets loose a rather blood curdling scream, so startled is she. "What the fucking hell are you doing in my house?," she half asks, half yells. As she speaks, she rummages around in the place she has clearly yet to decorate and make her own, coming up with a bottle. She wields it like a weapon. "Get out!," she says waving the bottle around at the girl. She looks more scared than threatening however, and given the awkward way she's swinging it, if the figure knew anything of combat, she could see very easily that she Emmelline, isn't a dab hand at it at all.
The girl seems absorbed in her own sadness, as she continues to cry for a moment, ignoring Emma's righteous outburst. After a moment, she looks up. A scared young girl, pale of skin except where it is red and blotchy from crying, with bloodshot blue eyes, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail tied with a red ribbon... and a perfectly round hole in the middle of her forehead. Emma has seen enough TV and movies to know that it looks like a bullet hole, easily large enough for Emma to stick her pinky into.
"Holy mother of god!," Emmelline exclaims, almost screaming again, though she manages to hold herself back, when she notices the hole in the girl's forehead. "Oh holy shit holy shit," she mutters to herself. "Mobile Emma, mobile," she mutters to herself, rummaging through her possessions to find her phone... which oddly enough is in her other hand. "Fuck where is it?," she says, before realizing it's in her hand all along. "Look, I'm going to call 911 yeah?," she asks of the girl. "You... um..." a moment as she tries to remember any medical training she's been given, "need to stop the blood," she says, as she grabs a scrap of cloth from the kitchen table, and tosses it over to the woman.
The girl continues to stare at someone for a moment, still silent. "W-what is 911? And why are you dressed like that. And wh-where is P-papa?" the girl asks, clearly very shaken. The bit of cloth Emma tosses her way passes right through her, as if she were no more than an illusion. "Did you hurt him? Did you?!? DID YOU HURT PAPA?!?" The girl's voice steadily rises as she speaks, until it reaches the level of a painful shriek. Her eyes, at first almost hopelessly sad, now begin to look angry and as her voice gets louder, they get darker, until they are solid black, not even reflecting any ambient light.
The girl continues to stare at Emma for a moment, still silent. "W-what is 911? And why are you dressed like that. And wh-where is P-papa?" the girl asks, clearly very shaken. The bit of cloth Emma tosses her way passes right through her, as if she were no more than an illusion. "Did you hurt him? Did you?!? DID YOU HURT PAPA?!?" The girl's voice steadily rises as she speaks, until it reaches the level of a painful shriek. Her eyes, at first almost hopelessly sad, now begin to look angry and as her voice gets louder, they get darker, until they are solid black, not even reflecting any ambient light.
Emmelline watches as all this goes down. The cloth passing through the girl, the questions, then the scream and the change. "Yeah okay," she says as she grabs her purse and keys. Clearly she hasn't taken the chance to move in properly. "I'm off. This is officially way too much for me," she says, as she tries to make her way out.
Emma makes for the door, only to find that it will not open, despite her best efforts. It isn't locked, but it might as well be. The girl seems to flicker, from being on the bed one moment, to standing right in front of Emma the next. "Where is my Papa?!?" she asks again. Her voice is lower again, but her eyes are still blacker than pitch. A trickle of blood runs down from the hole in her forehead. A moment later, it reverses, as if the hole is sucking the blood back in. "I want my Papa!"
"yeah, I'm sure," Emmelline says, definitely freaking out by now. "Yeah, but... um I'm not him, I don't know him, and I don't know you," she says, now making for the window that was left open earlier, and attempting to crawl out it. Though even as she moves, she keeps her mobile on her. "Who the fuck can I fucking text, call? Fucking hell, not if this is all my imagination."
Meanwhile, Emmelline's quiet evening at home takes a haunting turn as she encounters the ghost of a young girl in her trailer, materializing with an eerie presence and a disturbing gunshot wound on her forehead. Initially disposed to help, Emma's attempt to call emergency services is derailed by the spectral nature of the girl, whose desperate search for her father quickly escalates into an aggressive confrontation. Frozen with fear and confusion, Emmelline's survival instincts kick in, leading her to desperately attempt an escape. Confronted by the impassable door, her last resort is an open window — a testament to her frantic state and the unsettling power the ghost holds. This unfortunate incident leaves her contemplating the limits of her understanding and the stark realities of Haven's paranormal underbelly, far from the mundanity of her usual routine.
(William's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sun Sep 29 2024]
At the shipping yard
It is afternoon, about 76F(24C) degrees, and the sky is covered by grey clouds.
(Your target discovers that a seemingly innocuous local politician is actually a high-ranking member of The Black Flame cult. They've been using their position of power to quietly further the cult's agenda, such as passing laws that subtly allow for the cult's rituals, or diverting public funds into the cult's coffers. The politician is cautious, clever, and has a group of loyal followers who will protect them at all costs. The characters must expose the politician's true allegiances to the public, stop their devious plan, and neutralize the politician's followers, all without attracting too much unwanted attention.)
Filled with tension and grievance thanks to a series of heated arguments, William walks through the labyrinth of shipping containers in the yard, unaware of the attention William had drawn. From the shadows, a figure emerges - a man clad in dark, flowing robes, emblazoned with an obsidian, flame-wreathed globe upon the lapel and cufflinks. The man approaches William with an air of unsettling calm, his presence palpable in the charged atmosphere of the growing twilight. Thriving on vulnerability, the Black Flame seems to be approaching William as their most recent mark - their modus operandi of seeking out individuals that seem lost or conflicted may result in a new cultist being born today.
"Are you having a good day? I don't think so," he murmurs, in greeting towards William. "Could I have but a moment of your time?" Taking advantage of the Cleanse to approach Havenites without fear of supernatural resistance, he would launch into his recruitment speech without waiting for William's consent.
"Ah, young man, I can see the burden you carry. The weight of your conflict with your kin must feel like an insurmountable shadow. It gnaws at your spirit, doesn't it? You stand at the precipice of despair, ripe for a deeper understanding of the universe and your place within it. You see, the world is not as it seems. We cling to our mundane lives, terrified of the unknown, yet it is the unknown that holds the key to liberation. The Black Flame offers a path - a chance to embrace the chaos that will engulf the world. The coming flame is not to be feared, but it is the harbinger of transformation."
"Imagine a world where the shackles of familial strife and societal expectation crumble to ash. Picture the cleansing fire sweeping away the pain and turmoil, revealing a new order - a world reborn. This is not merely destruction; it is evolution. You are not alone in your struggles, William. Many have felt the isolation that comes from conflict. But what if I told you there is a greater purpose? What if you could be part of something much larger than yourself?" He pauses, allowing his words to sink in.
William stops in his tracks the moment the odd man in the strange attire manifests itself before him, or well, more likely creeped around, given the pressence of the Cleanse suppressing any magical acts within the town. That was something that made him calm at the situation, at least calmer than he would be were it not for the scheme, yet he didn't quite trust the mysterious figure, no one with good intentions awaits in a dark place to stop by lonely bystanders.
He quirks an eyebrow more and more as the speech continues, with a face not lacking knowledge but conviction in what the figure was saying, skeptic and not buying anything that the hooded pressence offered. It was clear in his expression, as well as in his body language, torso turning sideways as if to continue walking in some other direction, and legs retreating ever so slightly while bending a tad, just ready to start running would it be necessary.
With a deep breath, he finally opens his mouth, letting his voice out with a heavy English accent "Well, excuse me. I don't know how you've gotten my name, or who you are, but I doubt you understand in the slightest any of my issues, and I doubt their solution is a new world order. Hold your horses a bit, I've just had a rought day, I don't want to rebuild society about it... So if you excuse me, I think I'll be on my way..."
As he finishes his line, his phone beeps, drawing his gaze down to it, it was from one of his acquaintances, answering to a request for help sent earlier today a bit too late. The woman happened to be in the police force, and a Deputy, so he keeps the phone closer to his chest, debating answering before typing real quick and without losing sight of the man, the words 'Well, what I texted you about is over. But I am by the containers, there's someone weird here that stopped me'
"Ah, but dear," the robed man says, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with a subtle, unsettling undertone of threat. "You misunderstand the nature of my proposition. It is not a mere societal overhaul I propose, but a reclamation of your very essence, a liberation from the binds of strife and the weight of expectation. You may feel adrift now, but this turmoil is but a precursor to awakening, a necessary fire to temper your spirit."
"Chaos," the cultist continues, his eyes glinting with fervor. "It is the crucible of creation, my young friend. You stand upon the threshold of possibility, and I can guide you through the flames. Others have walked this path, have embraced the inevitability of change, and they have risen to power, shedding the shackles of their former selves. Do not shy away from the fire - it is your greatest ally. You will not have another such glorious chance as this."
At that thought, his expression shifts, his shadowed features twisting in annoyance before it is marshalled into unsettling calm once more. "You may walk away, William, but know this: the flame is patient. It will await you, lurking in the shadows, until you are ready to embrace it. The choice is always yours - yet choices have consequences."
With a quirk of the other eyebrow, he takes a couple steps back as the tone of the man begins shifting, posture bending as well, again, getting ready in case he needs to flee, despite the option the man is giving of walking away, he is still for some reason suspicious of doing so at a slow pace of walking, or without looking his way while he does so.
A sigh follows, and William with a speech quite more casual replies "Look... I am quite good with things as they- Well, they could change a little, but I am not one for embracing chaos, had way too much of that since I got here and I'd appreciate a rest" Adding on top of it a wave of a dismissive hand.
"I don't know what kind of people you normally stop, but I am not one that will be swayed by some fancy wording and pretty promises without any kind of basis... So if that is all you have to offer, I beg you excuse my leave" His feet beginning to take steps away from the hooded man, though his body not turning around to look to the front, keeping his eyes on the mysterious figure, fearing maybe he was going to be chased, or shot behind his back.
The robed and cowled man slides back into the shadows of the shipping containers, clearly fell in wrath but not willing to assault William in the town of Haven itself, the name living up to its aspirations, it seems. All William gets shot towards him is the vicious phrase, "You will regret your decisions in the future."
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
Emmelline is just hanging out, idly tapping on her phone, perhaps flicking thorugh social media, or texting with someone.
Another evening in Haven. Emma is sitting at home, resting in her cramped trailer, alternating between sending texts and checking out people's pages and posts on MyHaven. If nothing else, it is a relaxing activity, because after a time it all starts to blur together and numbs the mind a bit. Then, a sound. Faint, at first, and mistaken for perhaps an ad on a site. Then, a bit louder, and unmistakably coming from the real world. Crying, and hitching gasps for breath.
"What the bloody hell?," Emmelline says, as she wakes from the stuper she was in moments ago. "What the hell was that?," she wonders to herself, as she makes for a window to see what might be going on outside.
Outside the window, the last vestiges of sun splatter through the trees to dapple the trailer park in fading light. But there's no one in sight. And yet, the crying persists. It sounds a bit louder now, the sobs coming more frequently and the breaths more sporadically. Someone nearby is sobbing, tears of absolute heartbreak by the sound of it.
"Huh there's nothing out there," Emmelline says, a mixture of both curiosity and concern crossing her countenance. She cracks the window a bit. "Hello?," she calls out. Seeing if she might be able to catch the attention of whomever might be out there. "Wonder if it's one of the neighbors or something," she ponders to herself.
"H-h-hello? Is s-someone there? Papa, is that y-you?" Emma hears a voice say in between sobs. But it sounds close. Almost as if it is coming from behind her. But that can't be. Can it?
"What the bloody hell," Emmelline says, now truly alarmed, as she whirls to look behind her. Though even as she does so, she keeps one eye out on the open window, lest something come through there whilst her back is turned. So her head is half tilted looking over the shoulder, and the other trying to see what might be in front of her.
turns partly away from the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flicker of movement from the sofa bed. Where a moment ago, she was alone, now she is not. There is a young girl sitting on the end of the bed, her face in her hands as she cries. As if that wasn't strange enough, the girl appears to be dressed in clothing that is well out of date. A poodle-skirt, white with black trim, a cream-colored sweater, and honest-to-goodness Mary Janes. Her hair is tied back with a red ribbon. At a guess, she looks to be young. A teenager, perhaps?
Emma turns partly away from the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flicker of movement from the sofa bed. Where a moment ago, she was alone, now she is not. There is a young girl sitting on the end of the bed, her face in her hands as she cries. As if that wasn't strange enough, the girl appears to be dressed in clothing that is well out of date. A poodle-skirt, white with black trim, a cream-colored sweater, and honest-to-goodness Mary Janes. Her hair is tied back with a red ribbon. At a guess, she looks to be young. A teenager, perhaps? (fix)
Emmelline starts as she sees the figure, that most certainly wasn't there before. She lets loose a rather blood curdling scream, so startled is she. "What the fucking hell are you doing in my house?," she half asks, half yells. As she speaks, she rummages around in the place she has clearly yet to decorate and make her own, coming up with a bottle. She wields it like a weapon. "Get out!," she says waving the bottle around at the girl. She looks more scared than threatening however, and given the awkward way she's swinging it, if the figure knew anything of combat, she could see very easily that she Emmelline, isn't a dab hand at it at all.
The girl seems absorbed in her own sadness, as she continues to cry for a moment, ignoring Emma's righteous outburst. After a moment, she looks up. A scared young girl, pale of skin except where it is red and blotchy from crying, with bloodshot blue eyes, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail tied with a red ribbon... and a perfectly round hole in the middle of her forehead. Emma has seen enough TV and movies to know that it looks like a bullet hole, easily large enough for Emma to stick her pinky into.
"Holy mother of god!," Emmelline exclaims, almost screaming again, though she manages to hold herself back, when she notices the hole in the girl's forehead. "Oh holy shit holy shit," she mutters to herself. "Mobile Emma, mobile," she mutters to herself, rummaging through her possessions to find her phone... which oddly enough is in her other hand. "Fuck where is it?," she says, before realizing it's in her hand all along. "Look, I'm going to call 911 yeah?," she asks of the girl. "You... um..." a moment as she tries to remember any medical training she's been given, "need to stop the blood," she says, as she grabs a scrap of cloth from the kitchen table, and tosses it over to the woman.
The girl continues to stare at someone for a moment, still silent. "W-what is 911? And why are you dressed like that. And wh-where is P-papa?" the girl asks, clearly very shaken. The bit of cloth Emma tosses her way passes right through her, as if she were no more than an illusion. "Did you hurt him? Did you?!? DID YOU HURT PAPA?!?" The girl's voice steadily rises as she speaks, until it reaches the level of a painful shriek. Her eyes, at first almost hopelessly sad, now begin to look angry and as her voice gets louder, they get darker, until they are solid black, not even reflecting any ambient light.
The girl continues to stare at Emma for a moment, still silent. "W-what is 911? And why are you dressed like that. And wh-where is P-papa?" the girl asks, clearly very shaken. The bit of cloth Emma tosses her way passes right through her, as if she were no more than an illusion. "Did you hurt him? Did you?!? DID YOU HURT PAPA?!?" The girl's voice steadily rises as she speaks, until it reaches the level of a painful shriek. Her eyes, at first almost hopelessly sad, now begin to look angry and as her voice gets louder, they get darker, until they are solid black, not even reflecting any ambient light.
Emmelline watches as all this goes down. The cloth passing through the girl, the questions, then the scream and the change. "Yeah okay," she says as she grabs her purse and keys. Clearly she hasn't taken the chance to move in properly. "I'm off. This is officially way too much for me," she says, as she tries to make her way out.
Emma makes for the door, only to find that it will not open, despite her best efforts. It isn't locked, but it might as well be. The girl seems to flicker, from being on the bed one moment, to standing right in front of Emma the next. "Where is my Papa?!?" she asks again. Her voice is lower again, but her eyes are still blacker than pitch. A trickle of blood runs down from the hole in her forehead. A moment later, it reverses, as if the hole is sucking the blood back in. "I want my Papa!"
"yeah, I'm sure," Emmelline says, definitely freaking out by now. "Yeah, but... um I'm not him, I don't know him, and I don't know you," she says, now making for the window that was left open earlier, and attempting to crawl out it. Though even as she moves, she keeps her mobile on her. "Who the fuck can I fucking text, call? Fucking hell, not if this is all my imagination."