PARTIES: Ingeborg
LOCATION: Wicked's Rest
TIMING: Current
SUMMARY: Inge leaves town
Going away had become a staple in her life from the moment she separated from Hendrik and found her way west, to Amsterdam. In the four decades that had followed, Inge had left place after place, turning her back on cities and countries with increasing ease. But it was never really easy, no matter how lackadaisical she pretended to be. It was especially hard when it didn't feel like much of a choice.
She'd been considering changing Wicked's Rest for a different city for a while now, admittedly. But the walls were closing in faster than she liked and the bloody bitemarks on her legs were just more proof of that. The amount of hunters who she figured were just lying in wait was too large as well and besides, what was there to do in this town that she could not do elsewhere? The teaching position was so-so, but it ate away from her time spent creating art. There were friends, but she had friends elsewhere too. There was the gap left behind by Debbie, a festering wound even more painful than those left by Wyatt's teeth.
It was time, the way it was always inevitably time.
It had been time, back in Antwerp, when Inge had witnessed a hunter chopping off Sanne's head. She had ran into the astral that time, rushing to a plane of existence where no axe could get to her. She had played it over and over again, that image, and only returned to their once-shared appartment to gather her most important belongings before fleeing south, to the crowds of Paris. In that capital she had stayed no longer than three months before there was the hot breath of hunters in her neck, so off to Nice she went. Bordeaux, next. Across the ocean to England and then across a larger ocean, to the Americas. In Mexico she'd enjoyed her time until her neck had been marred with the scar left there by Elena Cortez and she'd fled north again, with few belongings but her life. That was always the most precious thing to cling to.
The years had continued on, as had the places she'd come and gone. Switzerland, Venice in 2003, and then copious of European capitals as she moved through them as Nika Beinhacker, famed sculpturer. That identity had to be destroyed eventually, though, and soon enough she was herself again. Inge de Jong, returning to the Netherlands, to the hospital and running away from the scene as soon as the funeral of her only daughter was concluded.
She tried to collect something from each city, but it was not always an option. Sometimes she ran with just the clothes on her back and the few belongings in her bag, and memorabilia were discarded. These days she was clever enough to have a few storage boxes scattered around with some of her things, but even so. Things got lost in the wind.
This time, though, she was doing it right. Quick, but right. She was gathering her things, ordering a moving van to drive the most precious materials up to New York, where she'd move in with Mona and delve into the vibrant nightlife that Dance Macabre could never claim to imitate. She was trying to say goodbye, though it was never really goodbye — at least not for those who would live as long as she did. It was a good thing, that most of the people she'd learned to value in Wicked's Rest were as undead as her, but there were a few she knew would come to grow old and pass while she remained unchanging. Maybe, then, it was best to leave now, before she grew all the more fond of Anita and her mourning would weigh even heavier than it inevitably would.
And Inge intended to return periodically, she really did. As a mare it was easy to come and go as one pleased, but she needed her homebase changed. There were things lurking behind corners here. Crocodilian dreamers, hunters whose brothers she'd hurt or who'd deceived her, ghosts that killed indiscriminately. Wicked's Rest would just become a place she visited from time to time, making reappearances in the lives of Anita, Leila and Ariadne as she pleased.
So her things were packed by the movers. Her appartment was empty. Her studio sold. Her contract at the university ended. She'd seen the people she cared for one last time as an inhabitor of Wicked's Rest and left them her forwarding address. All that was left to do was get in her car and drive off.
In her car, Inge felt a level of uncertainty that came with saying goodbye. There was also, more dominantly, a feeling of concern. What if someone was to stop her from leaving now? If all her intentions to not die in this godforsaken town were for naught, and she'd still be caught underneath someone's axe or between someone's teeth or even that same sword once more? If she'd still had a functioning heart, it would have been hammering all the way through her drive out of town, but it remained as still as it always was.
It wasn't until she'd moved past the Maine stateline that she felt comfortable enough to turn up her music and sing along as loud as she could, the next destination on her horizon a mirage full of promise and potential.
[pm] Oh, that is smart. Thank you. I could use your help for sure. I'm going to teach dance at the studio in town once I graduate in December.
That is gross! She needs to leave us all alone. I know she went after some other people I love. We do last long. Okay. If you forbid it, then I believe it won't happen. [ user is still super anxious ]
[pm] Have never had friends before. Do not know how this works sometimes. Elle left before and did not But she comes back. Will you? Think maybe this is what mobile phones are for then. Much better than letters from my days as human.
Okay. Then you are right. Not goodbye. You will always have place here.
[pm] Does the name sound familiar? A little bit, yup. I mean... there's no point in keeping up that charade since you're leaving, right? You can't blame a gal for wanting to keep her identity safe at DaMa. But how did you find out? Did you read it in my profile? I've been meaning to change that :(
I'm hopping towns. You know how it is, at some point people start to notice that you're not getting any wrinkles. Though I suppose that losing Debbie doesn't make me particularly motivated to stick around.
For what it's worth, your art and gallery made this town ten times more tolerable.
[pm] A full goodbye? Darling, no. I stay in touch. I just don't want to leave a glittery cloud of dust here. I'll come by sometime, you'll come over to me ... we'll be friends for centuries, if I have any say in it.
[user is trying to convince herself that she is hallucinating the message. user locks and unlocks her phone several times and goes back to her messages to see if it disappears. it does not.]
No no no Don't go Please don't go Please don't Cassius left, Cass is dead, I can't lose you too Are you leaving forever Does this mean You're No No Please no
[pm] I'll be an astral projection away! Just moving my homebase, you know? This place ... it's no good, Leila. It takes too much, even if it gives me plenty. There's too much heat and I do not intend to die in a small town in Maine. But I'll give you my new address and step by regularly, hm?
[pm] Oh [...] I thought it was a human child for some reason I Regardless I am sorry that it happened... Maybe she'll come back to you both one day. [...] What happened to your leg?
[...]
Also, Inge, what is this about you selling your studio?
[pm] Maybe, one day. I just hope she enjoys her life and that I did what was best for her. Letting go is no easy job. [...] Nothing I want you to worry about, Leils.
I've been meaning to tell you. I'll be moving on from Wicked's Rest. It is time, you know? I've spent too many years here. I miss the hustle and bustle of the big city. It's too dangerous I cannot be here for you as you go through this loss, so it's no matter I know the timing is less fortunate.
[pm] You make a good point, as always. I guess with the gift of time means I can also save up lots of money to go wherever I want. Right?
Maybe she was going there to try and kill people!! Okay. Then I will be mean about her. Yes, I would like her to stop existing. I better outlive her. Unless she finds me again and murders me. Which I feel like she could do! I will just continue to always carry around the knife you gave me.
[pm] Yes! And don't just put it in one bank. I'll help you sort these things out. Maybe one day you'll get comfortable with theft
I very much think so, yes. She must have been scouting undead or something. Good. You will outlive her, Ariadne! Hunters don't last long. We do. She will not murder you, I forbid it.
I'm hopping towns. You know how it is, at some point people start to notice that you're not getting any wrinkles. Though I suppose that losing Debbie doesn't make me particularly motivated to stick around.
For what it's worth, your art and gallery made this town ten times more tolerable.
Our disappointment in the other's survival is mutual. Will you put a note in your will to have me notified upon your passing? I'd like to pop a bottle when the day is inevitably here.
[pm] It's definitely not a bad idea. I [...] hope you find some peace. I hope that kind of thing is still possible in places that aren't here, you know?
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