Pitch Black Waters, Eldritch Horrors, Oh My!
There was approximately 5ft of water in the bathtub, and Marion had exactly no idea how.
The water seemingly swallows up whatever moonlight that spills through the circular window situated right above it, great for cleansing rituals, Marion recalls absentmindedly.
Stranger and odder things have happened around him over the years, so a little excess… depth, in the bathtub is a little odd, but it is nowhere nearly as alarming as the time his great-aunt Bertha had apparently succeeded in reanimating not one, not two, but instead a whole herd of rabid cattle, as nothing more than a favour to a dear old family friend, one Mr. Arian.
However, Marion muses half-heartedly, fingers digging into his temples, in a vain measure to stave off the pounding behind his eyes, which has worsened since he had flicked on the bathroom lights, this is certainly high up on the ‘What in the Ever-Loving Fuck???’ list.
Case in point, the ripples that had steadily increased on the surface of the watery abyss in a bathtub, that had absolutely no business doing there.
There was nary a breeze, nor a tremble in the ground either. So, to see not only a foreboding amount of water, and ripples that shouldn’t be there-
Well, it would be completely understandable for Marion to do what he did next.
He flips the switch off, plunging the bathroom into darkness once more, and ignores the now audible gurgling- there were glowing green eyes blinking at him now, what the fu-??!!, coming from the direction of the now otherwise inscrutable darkness of the bathtub, and closes the door. Making extra damn sure to draw a sigil of containment on not only the door, but the surrounding walls as well as the floor, as any magic practitioner with even a smidge of self-respect would.
Just until daylight, he tells himself. He will definitely come back to check on the possibly eldritch being now in possession of the house’ only bathroom.
He speed walks all the way back to his bedroom, snatching up an engraved heirloom dagger once owned by his Great-grand demon slaying uncle Emmitt, and his adorably grumpy familiar of a snake- Ace, and locks the door shut. Once again laying down sigils, protective and blood fuelled, this time, just in case.
His sleep was restless but he sleeps nonetheless, and so daybreak arrives, and with it Marion once again, faced with the bathroom- likely turned eldritch being’s new living quarters.
Allowing himself only a second of hesitation, he breaks the containment sigils, and pushes the door wide open to face what lies behind it, dagger in hand all in one practiced motion-
Only to come face to face with an empty tub, remnants of inky black water, and an open window.
Confusion comes easy to his sleep addled mind, but slow dawning horror is quick to follow.
The window!
He had forgotten to seal up the window too! As he buries his face into his hands, he mourns his dignity as an A-class magic practitioner, and dreads the incoming tongue-lashing from his superiors.
This, he thinks with no small amount of hysteria, is going to be a fan-fucking-tastic day.
stephen hawking esque fr
