Nana turns the envelope over in her hands as she watches back on the footage. The pages, despite their smooth edges, feel searing hot-- as if she’s dipping her fingers into acid.
Before her stands Kitty, back turned to the camera. The back door opens and Nana presses the button to stop the recording. The red sweatshirt is vibrant against the walls that seem so solemn now. She eyes them and begins to pick apart why they feel familiar.
There are clear differences to the memory she holds for them, but past the shield they’ve created for themselves in the form of an alternate identity. But still, Nana’s able to pull apart the details like thread. She’d done her research after her run in with them in that alleyway, too. The venom that dribbles backwards to her throat, the way it felt when she’d heard them say Wren’s name.
Her stomach begins to turn in on itself. Then, she understands why she’d been guided to this moment on screen. Kitty turns back around, lips pulling into the perfect pout that often adorns her features.
There is no room for guilt this time, and even though she can feel it beginning to sink its teeth, flesh and bone corrupted beneath the realization of what’s before her-- instead it is anger that burns viciously; rooted to the balls of her feet, spindling up her calves and reaching her heart. The anger splits across Nana’s frame. If what laid before her were true, then Kitty could be responsible for Leon’s undoing.
However, despite the evidence given to her by this unknown sender, Nana knows she cannot jump to conclusions. Cellphone heavy like lead, Nana brings it to her ear after dialing Raf’s number. As soon as he picks up, Nana clears her throat. “We need to meet.”
The sun was shining when the world ended. Basil remembered it clearly because Chromos had a period of rainy weather just prior to the event, so when she woke up to clear skies and a bright sun, she knew it would be a great day...or so she thought.
Honestly, looking back at it, nothing really stood out as different or strange about the day. She woke up at 6am sharp, stumbling into her small kitchenette to start the coffee machine as she prepares herself for another day of puzzle solving and car repairs. The shop opened at 8am sharp, and it was 8:05am when she stumbled her way down the old wooden stairs, hair pulled back and wearing her cleanest pair of overalls, as she greeted her boss with a grunt.
Her plan for the day had been simple: work till 6pm, head over to Daeho’s place to pout until she was fed, then head over to Gale’s to watch the sunset. It had been a perfect plan for an otherwise normal day.
....how she wished she could turn back time.
It was about mid day into her shift, and the old man had sent her on a hunt for food. Basil had made a point to grumble under her breath, but grabbed the offered cash and left with a small huff--the old man’s chuckles ringing free behind her.
..The darkness is what surprised her first. When she had woken up the sun had been shining and no clouds were un the sky--but only a short few hours later the sky was covered in a dark cloud, How odd...the forecast didn’t predict rain.
She had made it half way down the street when a giant force hit her, causing her to fly back into a parked car. The last thing she remembered was her eye sight going blurry...and then nothing.
The world was different when she woke up gasping for air and in a panic. Afterwards recognizing the pain in her ribs and arm--but it was an afterthought compared to the devastation in front of her once her head cleared enough to take in her surroundings.
Somehow she was able to stand up, body slumping against the car with the exertion, but she couldn’t...wouldn’t rest. She needed to make sure her boss was ok. The grumpy old man who took a snivelling brat into care when she had no where else to go after aging out of care. ....He had to be okay.
Every step felt like death she slowly and painfully made her back back towards the shop, getting closer and closer until the sight of the building caused her to stop. Eyes widening in horror as she took in the destruction around her, “No....This can’t be happening.” She whimpered, stumbling into the shop.
“Old Man!!!” She yelled, tripping over debris as she made her way through the rubble, searching desperately for any signs he was still alive, desperately holding onto hope, until she spotted the blood and gore.
IC DETAILS: Roman has just arrived upon the island and is inspecting his ship, heading to his private quarters and keeping his shoes clean.
OOC DETAILS: Basically Roman is just thinking about decking out the Trident even further, and has some very interesting plans for those with royal blood in their veins.
Roman had often thought about changing the colour of the sails.
The classic weathered cream was unoriginal, and did not instil fear in the hearts of those they met through the waves. Sails stained with the blood of the crew’s victims had been an idea-- one he had discarded soon after. Blood dried, and would darken to a dull brown after time. It had been such a promising idea, but he could do better. He knew he could do better.
The Trident was a beauty, and he, as the king of the oceans he surveyed was truly the only one fit to captain it. Two exceptional creatures that would be bound forever. His precious ship, his ever sturdy companion deserved the absolute finest in treatment, from sails to cookware.
Placing a hand against the hull, he began to run his fingertips over the intricately wrought metal reinforcements that had been woven into the wood that had saved his life countless times. Seemingly in an act of affection, Roman brushed away a small pocket of salt that had collected in one of the nooks of the of the decorative spirals that contrasted in a small difference in the inky shades.
The salt flakes fell where he did not expect; upon the top of one of his oxford shoes. One half of his favourite pair, It had become a habit to keep his belongings pristine and clean, with as much care for his attire as he did his Trident. Humming a small tune, seemingly unbothered by the inconvenience, he bent down to sweep it once again from a valuable possession he owned. After the specks had been dealt with, he then rose and, ensured no salt clung to his fingers and straightened himself; flattening out any wrinkles in his clothes so as to ensure he looked as impeccable as he rightfully should.
He did not look like a pirate in his expensive suit, gold cufflinks inlaid with roughly cut painite stones held the sleeves snug against his wrists save for where he wore his watch. For all intents and purposes, Roman Tulach presented as a very wealthy businessman.
But appearances, they had always been deceiving.
Underneath his crisp clothing and expensive accoutrements lay a man who prided in the empire he had built for himself and his family. A man that many called monster. Roman could not help the malicious grin at the thought. Unlike those they had stolen from their warm beds, he had earned his greatness and had never once displayed regret for any atrocity. Not even for the princess he had demanded dead.
Perhaps his own pride of what he already had accomplished would his downfall, but Roman had always been smarter than the media who spoke about him did. Looking as he did now, he could walk into a bank, retrieve money and leave without a single person realise he looked so familiar.
"Black sails. Yes.” His murmur was only heard by himself, the sudden jump from topics within his head that so many found jarring not fazing the pirate king at all. He would speak with his crew about new additions and changes to their vessel. Improvements could always be made, and in chasing that perfect ship in one such as The Black Trident, Roman was careful and calculated every single decision regarding even the smallest changes aboard.
It had been a while since he had last laid eyes on his beauty, Because of his love for The Black Trident, while he had been away he had expected nothing but excellence from those he had tasked with being left in charge.
His children: beautiful and temperamental Isabella; reckless and outspoken Miles; loyal and curious Dylan; anger-fulled and wily Emerson. And then, of course, his crew: Zyra, John, Leland, Ronan and Jack, When he left, Roman made it very clear that their responsibility to manage the people was vital when he is/was/and will not be, and he expects to hear that there is not even a weapon missing.
The people he bestowed trust upon to control their herd of royalty when he did have reason to depart from the island, and of those, are were allowed into his innermost circle of companions.
There was much to survey now that he had returned. And he wanted to ensure that no pirate had slipped up, lest they lose something... important. Royals, however, would suffer more deeply for any breaking of the rules upon the centre of his watery kingdom. But first, to retire to his quarters, and then, after rest, to meet with his trusted council. Swiftly departing from the docks, his hubris became to swell as not many seemed to want to stand in his way, Perhaps it was that he exuded such a power that they knew he would not be merciful toward harassers or those who had questions about him.
Or perhaps, and it was more likely than the alternative, they could recall his face. Though he rarely made appearances to the crowd of people living on his island, when he did, he demanded all eyes to fixate on him. And at first, he had even wanted to remain more mysterious. After all, how could the enemy spill his blood with little information on Roman? Though he still enjoyed pulling the strings of his game from behind the scenes and it delighted him very much to be the puppeteer that the world’s fate rested upon, he had spent so much time simply observing. It was not wrong to want to join in; it was not wrong to want to refresh the minds of his prisoners that any step out of line would not end well; and it was certainly not wrong to loom over and deliver an unspoken reminder to those who might have been beginning to feel safe in their beds at night that they were at his every whim.
Once he had reached his house, not needing to look as the paths were so familiar, Upon entering the space, Roman could only try to hide a grin. Oh yes, there were many awful events to come soon enough. Retiring to his private space, he began to feel at home once again and relaxed back into his chair.
Ah, the beauty of scheming. He had been itching to find new ways to play with the princes and princesses who truly thought someone would rescue them. It would not just be on Roman’s orders this time, however; the pirate king, had many, many games he would so very much adore and savour to conduct. There were so very many entitled brats upon this island, of course, and the opportunity to pick one, or several, out for what he had in store for those he could choose from. But, in an effort to keep the brats under the impression that they could have a chance at going home, until struck with inspiration, Roman would spend his days watching the inhabitants closely, and with great interest. Time would tell who would suffer at his hand, or the hand of others.
Stretching back in the chair, he felt a warm, fuzzy and pleasurable sensation run through his system at the thought of his schemes yet to fully bloom. There was still so much more that needed to be done, but his’s allies’ success rate has been far better than Roman expected. Those tasked with swiping such high profile people without a clue left behind could almost expect a larger share in treasure-- for their troubles, of course. And everything seemed to be falling into the right place at the right time. Good. Very good. Exhaling slowly as Roman let the tension in his muscles release, he gladly sunk into the plush cushioning,
No matter how briefly it the feeling through his body persisted, Roman would savour it; for the first time in a long while, the pirate king was truly content.
TAGGING: Sloane Holliday + Conrad Porter (Mentions)
WHEN: January 6th, 2017 - night to early morning
WHERE: Luna, Elise, and Sloane’s house
NOTES: After the Better Off Wed episode airs, Sloane becomes inspired.
Blaire Vanderbilt was someone that Sloane had met long ago. They’d crossed paths at a party where Sloane had performed and it was an instant friendship. The blonde’s cheery idiocy coupled well with Blaire’s need for someone to like her for more than her money. So, when Blaire asked Sloane to perform at her and Conrad’s wedding, Sloane was ecstatic. In fact, she even sat down with them and talked all about the little things that they loved about one another just so that she could write them a song.
What she didn’t realize was how much she felt for Conrad. Sure, she’d been friends with Blaire long enough to see how incredibly manipulative and vile she was, but once she’d met Conrad, she hoped things would change. Conrad clearly loved Blaire with every piece of himself, his answers to Sloane’s very personal questions being just as personal. And Sloane loved every second of it. After Blaire left Conrad at the altar, Sloane wasn’t sure she could handle being friends with the brunette anymore and slid Begin Again, the song she’d written for the couple’s wedding, into a folder that she hardly touched.
Conrad deserved better.
She wasn’t sure what had compelled her to order Chinese food and sit on the couch on a Friday night. It wasn’t a favorite thing for her to do. In fact, she usually spent Fridays out at bars or writing new music and sometimes both. She had just been flipping through the channels, trying to find something to catch her eye, when Conrad Porter’s face drifted into view. She pressed pause on the DVR and, well, as creepy as she felt, stared at him. It had been a while since she’d seen him in person and somehow with his face on her television, she felt like it wasn’t so bad for her to have missed him. She’d only missed the first 7 minutes or so and decided that maybe this could be worth watching.
And it was. To see what Conrad and Blaire’s relationship was like, to see what he must have felt that day, to see just how torn apart he was by her decision - it was eye opening. However, she had to admit that she felt kind of like she was a peeping tom, like she was delving into a world far too personal for television. The last shot of the episode was an intimate close-up of Conrad, clearly distraught, speaking candidly. “I never imagined we’d end like this,” was all that left his lips, the screen rolling credits. Sloane hurriedly sat up and scrambled for the remote, her tears rolling down her cheek as she rewound time and time again.
It was but ten minutes later that the girl ended up in her bedroom, door shut with the typical scarf hanging over the handle - her signature ‘I’m writing’ notion to Luna and Elise. There were fruit snacks strewn across her desk, words flowing from the pencil she held. If there was something that this girl was talented with, it was words. They slipped from her mind without a second thought, though she knew editing them would come later.
Sloane switched back and forth from her keyboard and headphones to lightly strumming her Fender. There was a certain amount of her soul that went into this, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids. She refused to stop working, her emotions wrapped up in what she was writing, tears flowing as the lyrics rounded themselves out. She hoped her singing wasn’t waking up the other girls - if they were even home. The blonde didn’t stop for anything but water and the occasional bathroom break.
The night turned to morning and Sloane couldn’t stop the music. Everything she had ever heard from Blaire and Conrad was being pushed into a song. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure why she felt so inspired by their ending - probably moreso than she had been by their beginning, but she knew that her muse had been sparked and that she needed to share this with Conrad. She knew that he needed to hear this. Or, at least, she knew that it might help if he knew that someone saw it all. That someone understood the words he possibly felt and wanted him to know that. Maybe it would help. If she was all wrong, she wouldn’t care.
If she was all wrong, then she didn’t know Conrad at all.
Timing: Late June
Location: Zuzu City
Description: Jay hates her job.
"And remember, time is money, and..."
Jay didn't listen as her boss gave another shitty speech about profits and money and margins and expenses. She didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't like working at Joja Corporation. Then again, it was hard to imagine enjoying her job. She'd given up that pipe dream years ago. Besides, it wasn't like anyone actually enjoyed working at their job. Not a single one of her coworkers did.
If she'd been able to pick a job she liked, she'd be on the Fern Islands, studying flora and fauna and not using her biology degree to go pre-med. Sorry, Dad. Instead, she's still not using her biology degree to go pre-med, and she works a desk job at a mega-corporation. Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Mom, too.
It sometimes got to a point that Jay didn't actually know what she was typing on her computer, just going through the motions until five o'clock arrived. She'd clock out, get on the bus, go home, warm up something for dinner and fall into bed only to get up the next morning and do the same thing all over again.
Setting her keys on the kitchen counter as she walked into her apartment, Jay sighed, groaning as opened the fridge. Nothing, great. That meant takeout until she could go get groceries, which would just be cereal, milk, some noodles if she was lucky. And Jay wasn't exactly lucky. She closed the fridge and rubbed her eyes, going to pick up her phone.
There was a letter on the counter, one she hadn't been able to bring herself to open. It'd been years since she'd seen her grandpa. They'd been close when she was younger, she supposed, only grandchild privileges, but he'd had less and less time to come visit her family, and, well, Jay had grown up. She'd never gotten around to visiting that farm of his in her youth, and then it had just been too late.
Jay felt guilty, too guilty to think about her grandpa, much less open and read his last words to her. Still... She needed to, didn't she? She needed to. She should.
With shaky fingers, she opened it up.
If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change...
And she was. Jay scanned the letter, first once and then again, reading closer this time, her eyes widening. This was real. This was hers. Her grandfather had left her a chance to get out of her dead end job, her monotonous life, her dull existence.
But she knew fuck all about farming, literally nothing.
But he'd done it. He'd dropped everything, moved, made a life for himself. How hard could it be? That was the question, right? How hard could it be?
Putting down the letter and picking up her phone, she grabbed a notepad. She'd make a list, figure out what to take, get a ticket for the bus. She could be headed to Stardew Valley by tomorrow, if she figured things out tonight.
Description: Just another perfect day in the life of Haley Bloom, right?
“And I’ll see you lovelies next week!” Haley said with her trademark smile and wave of her perfectly manicured nails. Shutting off the camera, she let out a sigh and glancing over at her computer. Audio, video, all of it had recorded which meant all she had to do was edit and add it to the end of the queue. Fun.
Her desk looked like a disaster, which is how it always looked after she recorded a video. No one ever saw the make up pallets, the used brushes, the bottles that piled up on her armoire as she filled the silence of her room with chatter or notes to herself to time-lapse a particular section. Switching off the ring lights behind her mirror, she set about cleaning up the clutter. It was her least favorite part of filming, but it had to be done.
Once all the pieces had returned to their respective places and her desk cleaned of stray flecks of setting powder, Haley stretched her arms before pulling out her phone.
Arrange the hair, tuck the chin, back straight but not too straight, a casual peace sign because everyone loves peace—perfect. Haley snapped a picture and regarded it with a critical eye. Good enough. If there were little flaws, it made her more relatable online and people loved relatable. She was just like them! Stuck in this stupid, boring little town filming videos until she could finally move to the city.
Just finished a new video! Hope you guys like it when it comes out 💕
And post.
Slipping her phone back into the pocket of her dress, Haley glanced at the clock. It was only 4 pm, which was honestly perfect timing. Emily wouldn’t be back from work until late tonight and Sam had finally developed the barest definition of a schedule, so at least he wasn’t blasting his stupid guitar now.
Haley popped her headphones in as she left the house, latching the door behind her. It was stupid—who would break into their parents’ house? Maybe the crusty old man who lived up in the mountains, but she hadn’t seen him in at least a month. But, she locked the door behind her all the same.
Flicking through her music, she put on a pop playlist before swiping to her messages.
Haley: just finished recording, what are u up to?
Alex: aw shoot babe
Alex: i just started lifting and im like, in the zone
Alex: wanna hang after?
Haley rolled her eyes. Of course he was working out. She knew it was like, his whole thing. Trying to be a pro grid ball player out of Stardew Valley of all places was almost as insane as trying to be a UTuber. But, Alex was dedicated to it. She couldn’t fault him for trying.
Haley: sounds good! tell your grandma I said hi
Alex: 😘
Wandering down the street, she glanced around the town square. The mayor was running around, probably going to poke his nose in at one of the shops to see how they were doing. Like the answer would be another other than “slow as hell.” He waved to her politely and Haley offered him a dazzling smile before turning away. No beach for her today, it seemed. The last thing she wanted to do was make awkward small talk with Mayor Lewis.
There were a few people in the town square, but Haley ignored them. The fountain was usually empty around this time and it was a nice enough place when the two little kids in town weren’t screeching on the monkey bars. But God. This town was such a dump. They didn’t even have a movie theater. Everyone had a movie theater. But no. When she and Alex had date night, it consisted of suffering through bar food at Gus’ and having to see her sister the entire time and then going back to her house to watch movies on her laptop. So romantic.
If Haley had her way, this whole town would be bulldozed down, she’d slap a mall down on the abandoned farm to the west and build a high rise with beach front property. The valley would make money, tourists would come for longer than just the stupid fish festivals, and everyone would be happy.
Maybe then her parents would decide “Oh, we fell in love with the Fern Islands and are selling that little house in the Valley. You’re off the hook! Emily can go back to the Calico Desert and Haley can get herself a condo in Zuzu City and we’ll all go back to seeing each other once a year.”
Haley let out a chuckle as she settled down by the fountain, leaning against one of the trees that shaded the area.
No chance that would happen. The most exciting thing that ever happened in this town was the rockslide that cut off access to half of the lake. And they’d been able to fix that up quick, no one had even gotten hurt when it happened.
Haley sighed as she glanced up at evening light streaming through the leaves of the tree. When was something ever going to happen in this stupid town?
Location: Outskirts of the West Rock Ridge State Park
Description: If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise.
AKA Abigail ruins the Qiongqi's picnic.
Warnings: TW Blood, Gore.
Since moving from Boston to New Haven, it seemed that Abigail's entire life revolved around work. By day, she was working at the Divinity Library helping them translate and categorize Chinese texts, occasionally restoring the odd scrap or two. It was easy enough to maintain her cover profession when it was, in fact, something she enjoyed. The texts were often fascinating from a history stand point, even if the content was dull, and the near total independence she had with her job made it almost feel fun.
And by night, she did the job that she was truly born to do. Abigail would listen to police scanners and cross reference mentions of odd happenings on the local message boards while she ate dinner. Sometimes nothing would pan out and it would be a quiet few hours in the bunker, either digitizing the family texts or maintaining her materials.
Other nights would be exactly like this. After the rather... disastrous encounter at the restaurant with Sutton and the boy in the boat shoes, Abigail had spent the rest of her free afternoon tracking down a hunt. She had heard whispers of people going missing, of a man found horribly mauled. The state troopers thought it was a bear, or a wolf. But the message boards thought differently. And so did she.
Killing the engine of her motorbike, Abigail hid the vehicle under a camouflage tarp and threw a few stray branches over it. Hardly necessary, given the darkness, but still. It never hurt to cover your tracks.
And tracks were exactly what Abigail was looking for now. Picking her way through the forest, she walked with ease in the moonlight. Fangxiangshi never had to worry about the dark if there was even a glimmer of light and when her eyes fell upon the torn up branches, the mud pressed with giant foot pads too large for wolves or bears, the tracks may as well have glowed. Her spear thumped against her back as she followed the trail. She stepped deliberately into the tracks, digging her heel in to destroy the marks behind her. Better for the park rangers to think some bumbling idiot had wandered off trail than to poke around here.
Abigail trekked through the forest, ears pricked and attentive. If a monster came charging at her, she might not be able to see it, but she'd certainly be able to hear it. She kept her breathing even and slow as she moved, the familiarity of the hunt meditative. She had always found it easier to think on these hikes out to battle, because it kept her mind off the fact that she might very well be marching towards her death.
Right now, though? Abigail focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She did not particularly want to think about anything else besides the hunt at this current point in time. Because the thing that had been on her mind the most, as of late, was another hunt. Another creature. But one unlike any she'd been on before.
She sucked in a sharp breath, mentally kicking herself. No. She wasn't going to think about black eyes and horns and blonde hair. She was focused and she was calm and she wouldn't--
A rancid, foul scent wafted from upwind and Abigail's stomach clenched reflexively. No matter how many time she smelled the stench of death and flesh and blood, she would never get used to the first whiff. Steeling herself, Abigail's hand drew her spear and she held it at her side. She followed both her nose and the tracks deeper into the forest until the scent became almost unbearable. Her eyes darted around, trying to find the source until something dripped onto her shoulder. A dark, sticky smear spread across her black robes.
Abigail looked up, directly into the gaping, ragged stump of crushed bone and tendon that made up what had once been a human neck. The body hung upside down in the trees and Abigail grimaced at the outstretched fingers just above her head. Legs bent unnaturally in the branches of the trees and the hiking pants the victim had been wearing were shredded, as was the flesh beneath. Guts poked out from three large slash marks across the corpse's stomach, the contents dribbling down the victim's chest. It explained the smell, for one.
But it didn't explain where--
The Yaoguai descended from the tree, black feathered wings beating more quietly than any creature of its size should be. Years of training and honing her reflexes were the only reason that Abigail was able to dive out of the way from the giant beast that had descended upon her.
What should have been white fur was matted in blood and two curved, glittering horns protruded from its skull. A curved beak melted into the furred snarling face and body of a tiger, with massive wings spreading to pull it from the steep dive. The wings flapped, sending leaves and twigs flying through the air as it hovered above her.
"Wángbādàn." Abigail swore as her mind raced, mentally scrolling through the pages and pages of knowledge acquired by her ancestors. A Qiongqi. Gāisǐ de Qiongqi-- of all the monsters, it had to be a flying one. At least they were far from water. Qiongqi could control water creatures and the last thing she needed were drowned spirits returning to fight with it.
Her talismans would do nothing against this threat; there was nothing spiritual about this monster. And there was only one way of handling that.
The Qiongqi let out a noise halfway between a shriek and roar before diving again towards Abigail, talon-like claws appearing from the massive paws. Abigail dodged, launching herself out of the way with all the strength she could muster. The creature landed hard on the ground, talons embedded in the earth where she had stood only seconds before. She hefted her spear, preparing to swing, but the Qiongqi pulled its front claws from the ground with ease, tearing dirt and roots along with it.
She backed away, keenly aware of her surroundings. She would not be backed up against a tree or trip over a root. That was how a lesser Fangxiangshi would die. No, Abigail was a Xiang. And while she was only the eldest daughter of a youngest son, she would uphold the family honor.
Spear kept at the ready, she and the creature circled one another. The creature's yellow eyes watched her with more intelligence than any animal could ever have, waiting for her to strike. Abigail kept her composure before setting off the creature's trap.
She stabbed at the creature's front paw with her Qiang, the red tassels flashing through the air. The Yaoguai reacted with lightning speed, withdrawing the targeted paw and lashing out with the opposite. But, Abigail had expected as much. In a fluid motion, she raised the tip of her spear from where the paw had been and stepped towards the beast, her spear now positioned right at the breastbone of the Qiongqi. With as much power as she could muster, Abigail thrust the spear into the monsters body. A lesser blade would have skittered off the bone, but the Qiang had been built for her kind. The thick spearhead was just as much a bludgeon as it was a blade and it smashed through the bone and pierced into the creature's chest.
The Qiongqi let out a roar of pain and stumbled backwards, wrenching the spear from her grasp. Abigail grimaced. It was still alive. Of course it was still alive. And her spear was firmly lodged in its flesh.
Reaching for her belt, Abigail pulled the short sword she kept at her side for emergencies. This certainly qualified as an emergency. The Zhi Bei Da she wielded was far too short for her to defend with or for her to launch any kind of frontal attack. But, it was better than her staff. It was strong, but she had a feeling it would crumple against the yaoguai before her.The Qiongqi let out a shrill cry before charging at her, murderous intent filling its eyes.
Abigail feinted left before diving to the right in a tight tucked ball, feeling the monster's claws pass through the air over her body. She sprang to her feet in an instant, spinning on the ball of her foot to set the Qiongqi back in her sights. The momentum of its attack had taken it further forward than it had intended and its back was to her for a brief second.
That was all the opportunity she needed.
Without a word, Abigail sprinted towards the creature and, when she was a few scant feet from colliding with its side, she leaped into the air. Her sword slammed down into the back of the creature. Blood welled up around the sword blade and, when the Qiongqi screamed in pain, it sprayed across her face. She grunted, blinded by the blood, but kept her grasp firm. Using her weight, she began to pull the blade through muscle and tendon, sawing through flesh towards the spinal column.
The beast's efforts intensified, spurned on by pain, but Abigail continued to pull the blade and then, suddenly, the monster fell to the ground.
The Qionqi's legs gave out from under it and the monster's weight pushed the spear deeper into its body. Unable to hold itself up, the Yaoguai impaled itself on her sword with a final gurgling gasp. She held her position, counting in her head until she was satisfied that the monster was truly dead.
Still blinded by the blood in her eyes, Abigail stood up and withdrew the sword from the Qiongqi's body. It wasn't difficult, she could feel the body eroding beneath her already, the flesh turning to putrid ooze. She mopped the blood from her face with the back of her hand and grimaced as bones emerged from the ooze, pockmarks beginning to appear in the white.
She extricated herself from the melting corpse, ignoring the way the mess clung to her boots and robes. She retrieved her spear and gave it a cursory glance. Not even bent. Abigail slid her Zhi Bei Da into its scabbard before letting out a long breath.
She watched the Yaoguai's corpse bubble and seethe until nothing but a dark stain of evil remained on the ground before her. Abigail pulled a yellow piece of paper from her pocket and tossed it onto the ground, the sullied earth erupting into flames.
Abigail's eyes watched the holy fire as it cleansed space and she couldn't help but wonder. Could she have done what she did if the Qiongqi had stared at her from behind blue, nearly human eyes?
Never in Nora Ainsley's life had she experienced loss. Not to the multitude that Adam Travers had brought with him when the words of his passing left Harper's lips. Of course, she had felt loss the moment she had settled into the truth of his turning into a vampire. Her heart had turned to stone, and the love once brought by his smile, his touch was lost, wrapped in a series of regrets and what ifs. What if she could have saved him? What if she could have kept him from turning into one of them. Her heart had broken the day she realized she would no longer be able to press her ear against his chest, only to hear the increase of his heartbeat when a simple I love you left her lips.
Now, however, Nora sat on floor of her room, winding her hands around the chain that was looped through his class ring. Sobs wracked her body, and dark tear stains ran down her cheeks, leaving remnants of what truly made her beautiful behind in their wake. Nora's heart ached. It broke. It split open, spreading apart at the seams until a bloody mess was left, ready to turn into something rotten. One of the last nights that she and Adam had spent together, she had taken it upon herself to steal one of his old practice jerseys. It fell perfectly over her frame, concealing what was supposed to go unseen by the average person. It lay in her lap, soaked in the tears that continuously spilled.
The candles on Nora's dresser flickered as a small breeze trickled into the room. The cold was the only way Nora could assure that she'd feel anything. Maybe the numb from the cold could instill another beat of her heart, and instruct it to feel again, to feel anything other than the anger for Adam's loss. Was she angry at him? Certainly. However, there was the question of who it was that had taken Adam from this earth. Marcel had taken him away from her once, so why would he go forth to undo the work he had put into Adam? Nora's heart ached as she searched for the question.
Silently, Nora continued to weep, her throat closing up on her every so often to tell her to breathe. Why was he gone? Why? Nora gripped the chain and held it close to her chest. A blood curdling scream left her lips as she fell forward into a fetal position. Nora continued to scream profanities. She bargained with God, begging him to bring Adam back. Even if he were a nightwalker, it would mean that he was there. Whether or not his heart was beating, he would be there.
As she continued to scream, questions filed in at an alarming speed. Faces flashed, all of which Nora thought could be guilty. Only, one in particular struck out. A frame of blonde hair fell past tear-drop eyes and an endless sea. It had to be her.
