Lenaara
Dreaming of honey cakes.
Hey 
I am looking for an RP partner. Before I move onto what kind of plots and ideas I have I'd like to point out some rules first.
I usually write from 3-5 paragraphs minimum per post, it may be less or more than that as it depends on the information that my RP partner is giving me.
Next is the issue of the plot itself. I'd like us to think of the setting and/or together, so that we're both agreed on it. Please contribute to the plot, otherwise it will be one sided and one of us will get bored.
I play both males and females. Usually, I use my main character + a bunch of secondary characters, so my main may change throughout the RP if the plot calls for it.
Romance is not a must, but it allows for more possibilities in the story. You can use romance for drama and plot purposes, and that keeps the story going. I like mature romances, so no love-on-first-sight bullshit after the 3rd post. Characters may or may not get along with each other, and forcing the romance upon our characters is just strange to me.
When it comes to characters all I am asking from you is realism. Realistically developed characters who fit the setting of our choosing. A character had to have been shaped by the previous and current events of their lives, making them into who they are. So, a character of noble birth would not be running off into the forest to find fairies (unless the character is like 3), they would be bound by the expectations of their family and thus forced to act in a certain manner. Same applies to characters of any other background. Give me well thought out characters and I will love you forever.
OKAY. I'm pretty sure this is everything I wanted to note before moving onto the ideas.
I have no specific preference at the moment of what idea I'd like to use, but here are the plots I have at the moment with a short description of what they have:
Modern
We do not need to stick to the plots described above, as we can brainstorm our own or maybe you have some ideas that you'd like to use. PM me or reply to the thread if you're interested!
Currently craving the vampire and the modern settings!
I am looking for an RP partner. Before I move onto what kind of plots and ideas I have I'd like to point out some rules first.I usually write from 3-5 paragraphs minimum per post, it may be less or more than that as it depends on the information that my RP partner is giving me.
Next is the issue of the plot itself. I'd like us to think of the setting and/or together, so that we're both agreed on it. Please contribute to the plot, otherwise it will be one sided and one of us will get bored.
I play both males and females. Usually, I use my main character + a bunch of secondary characters, so my main may change throughout the RP if the plot calls for it.
Romance is not a must, but it allows for more possibilities in the story. You can use romance for drama and plot purposes, and that keeps the story going. I like mature romances, so no love-on-first-sight bullshit after the 3rd post. Characters may or may not get along with each other, and forcing the romance upon our characters is just strange to me.
When it comes to characters all I am asking from you is realism. Realistically developed characters who fit the setting of our choosing. A character had to have been shaped by the previous and current events of their lives, making them into who they are. So, a character of noble birth would not be running off into the forest to find fairies (unless the character is like 3), they would be bound by the expectations of their family and thus forced to act in a certain manner. Same applies to characters of any other background. Give me well thought out characters and I will love you forever.
OKAY. I'm pretty sure this is everything I wanted to note before moving onto the ideas.
I have no specific preference at the moment of what idea I'd like to use, but here are the plots I have at the moment with a short description of what they have:
Modern
One or both of our characters are spies, agents for different government organisations, that happened to get stuck together after their mission was compromised on foreign land.- MC is a mercenary gang member. The gang is hired for assassinations, smuggling, spying and kidnappings. YC is a law enforcer who is undercover, aiming infiltrate MC's gang and get information of their employers and backers. Roles can be reversed!
- A story that focuses on a pairing -- a gang-member and a policewoman/civilian. The plot changes based on MC's background -- law enforcement or a simple civilian life. Regardless, MC unknowingly gets involved in gang politics by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. YC, a prominent member of a gang/mafia, has to fix the problem before it gets out of hand while hiding their background from MC. Roles can be reversed!
The setting is in our modern times, with a twist. People are able to use magic. Witches and wizards exist among people, they are able to use elemental magic or magic through the usage of runes. Most of these gifted people go insane, the magic making their minds very unstable and soon they turn against the society. Thus, those who are still sane are under constant watch of special police forces that keep these people in check. YC can be one of such magic users and MC, who is a member of the police force, is assigned to yours to YC's sanity keep in check.- A power struggle in a futuristic dystopia.
- Welcoming any supernatural themes
- MC is a bodyguard, who is hired by YC. The details of this plot are fully open to discussion, as YC can be of a different background with different reasons for hiring a bodyguard. Can involve a civil unrest or a full-scale war.
- An arranged political marriage. This plot involves a lot of court intrigues, backstabbing and warring kingdoms. YC can either be involved in the political marriage to MC or be someone not related to the royal family. A very open plot, preferably set in an inspired by Turkish/Ottoman Empire/Ptolemaic Egypt setting. It is not a romance plot, most of the focus will be on the Court and civil wars.
- Something along the lines of The Last of Us and Fallout. A virus/parasite that kills the host and its primary function is to spread. Walled cities are constructed to keep the rest of humanity safe. The antivirus is administered through food and water in case of an outbreak. Lives are controlled from birth, from assigned couples to regulated jobs based on a person's aptitudes. Outside the walls the environment has been polluted with radiation, the last resort employed by humanity to eradicate the creatures infected by the virus. Venturing outside the walls is forbidden, except to deploy scouting and hunting parties to assess the situation. This setting is very open to brainstorming. We will fill in the details together.
- I'd love to do a space travel story. It can be along the lines of Star Wars or Mass Effect, where our characters are involved in a large scale war. It can be a spy story, with backstabbing and secrets. A heist to steal some artifact. Anything.
What if you could bring a loved one back in a form of an android? Character A loses their lover. Character B is an android, manufactured to look and act like A's late lover. However, the memories weren't implemented correctly and the personality matrix is faulty. A now has to live with B, a physical copy of their lover with fragmented memories of them together, and B struggles to find who they truly are - an android, or a person in their own right.
The Commander remained stoic by her desk, head bent to read the manuscripts sprawled across the wooden surface. She stood with her side to me and whatever I could see of her face remained still, neutral, as always. Unlike mine. I stared at Nathan and Ellis, my face surely displaying all sorts of conflicting emotions.
What was there for me to say, to feel? It was my job to remain silent and loyal. Surely Nathan expected that of me, for he did not wait or even glance in my direction as he stormed out. He thought coin was enough to buy my loyalty, at least while it kept steadily flowing into my purse. He wouldn’t be wrong.
Like a heartbeat, Nathan’s words were a steady echo in my mind. Want your life to matter. Whether he actually had that sort of pull was questionable; I never pegged Nathan to be anyone of influence, even if he was a Knight. His order remained a hazy memory in my mind. It had never occurred to me that they were more than just religious zealots, worshipping a forgotten pantheon of Gods.
Perhaps sensing my doubt, Ellenia offered me a look I couldn’t read. What I did see was an exhausted woman, barely able to stand upright with the weight of the armour pressing on her shoulders, amongst other, intangible, things. That momentary flash of anger I felt had dissipated, clearing my vision, and though I hated the way Ellenia felt comfortable in social warfare, I still felt pity towards her. She was, after all, a friend.
When I turned to leave – neither of us were in a habit to part in tearful goodbyes – Ellenia spoke. “His order is viewed as royalty, you know, in the nations they’ve built. He has the power to hold all of our lives in the palm of his hand and decide what to do with them. You decide if that is someone you wish to follow.”
Ellenia may have meant these words to be for Ellis, an attempt to have him stay loyal to her, but I understood the meaning behind her words and the look she’d given me.
Without a word, I headed for the door. Ellenia did not turn to look at Ellis when she continued:
“You may leave if you wish. This is not a place for heroics and fame. We are stuck in the cesspit of this land to contain an evil that is spreading due to the foolishness of others.” I had stepped over the threshold by then and went down the steps. The Commander’s voice followed me down the staircase. “No ballads will be sung about any of us and our names will be forgotten. Though mine will be cursed by many for leading their sons and husbands to a sure death by the hands of foul monsters.” By the time I had reached the base of the spiral staircase, Ellenia’s words were muffled, barely audible sounds against the staccato of my footsteps. “It matters little. All I care about is that the swamp is contained, because of it is not, it will swallow the world.”
I could claim that Ellenia’s revelation had no effect on me. That a Knight’s role being similar to that of a monarch meant nothing. Many would’ve been proud, lucky, even, to be working for someone of such importance. But I would be lying and Nathan was right, I was very bad at it, for I was sure my thoughts were on full display.
By the time I reached the stables, exhaustion began to prickle at my breast. I was running, hoping movement would clear my mind before I had to see Nathan. But whatever traitorous thoughts were chased away returned the moment I noticed Nathan standing by the stables, silent and angry. Without a word, I neared him and waited for the stable boy to ready our horses. A quartermaster brought our belongings shortly after my arrival. He carried my traveling bag and spear and a package wrapped in canvas that he gave to Nathan, explaining it was provisions for the journey. Then, he excused himself and returned to the main tower, leaving Nathan and I in an awkward silence.
The groom was dressing our horses for the journey quickly and efficiently, humming under his breath as he worked. I watched him as I slung my traveling bag across my chest and checked its contents out of habit and to give myself something to do. As I leaned against one of the supporting the ceiling wooden beams, legs crossed at the ankles, I opened the flap of my bag to take out the folded map and went over the planned route to Escus. We would have to travel through the night, which I wasn’t fond of doing, but with so little time to spare I imagined Nathan couldn’t care less what time of the day it was.
Raising my gaze from the map, I glanced at Nathan and flattened my lips. A pang of disgust rolled through me, rising bile to the back of my throat. The way he spoke in Ellenia’s chambers sent shivers down my spine and I hated remembering the way he spat out threats and claimed disinterest in the lives of others. It had never occurred to me that a Knight was someone of importance, possessing such authority as to try and give Ellania orders. But now that I knew, I hated that Nathan chose to use his authority – no matter how small it was, if Ellenia was to be believed – to threaten those who tried to do good.
But I did not know Nathan, did I?
Did I want to know him?
When the stable boy led a young thoroughbred chestnut to me and helped me on, I looked up at the fortress gates. I could leave. The thought was so tempting that I gripped the reins tighter and the horse obediently turned, silent and docile beneath me. Much unlike my previous mare, whose ripped carcass remained at the back of my mind.
Looking over my shoulder I watched the stable boy lead the other horse to Nathan. I looked back at the gate, gripping the reins so tightly the leather stripe scrunched in my hands and bit into the palms of my hands painfully. Window of opportunity was passing me by and…
This was supposed to be a normal, ordinary job. The child and the man protecting her were supposed to be normal, just people stuck in a situation when they needed a bodyguard and a guide. Out of selfishness and sheer belief that fate had brought me an opportunity to repay the debt I owe to Leon I chose to take on this job. Whether that was a mistake remained to be seen, but the more I thought on it, the more I wanted out.
I wanted to go back to the normality of my life. Away from politics and men with enough authority to rival that of a King.
The groom passed the reins into Nathan’s hands and, warily inspecting Nathan’s armour, asked if he required help getting onto the horse. I looked at the gate for the last time and pressed my lips so tightly together all colour drained from them.
No, I was not doing this for Nathan, even if he was the one giving me the coin. A child has been taken and I had to save her, not only because I knew what happened to those who got caught by the Church, but because I owed it to the kid. She’d saved my life out of selfish foolishness and desire to help.
Once Nathan was ready to set out, I led us towards the postern gate. The stable boy had given Nathan and me oil lanterns and the soft light helped illuminate the path towards the postern gate, which was dark and mostly abandoned, save for the men posted there. The gate was much smaller and was guarded by four tired men. They peered at us from beneath their helmets, their faces obscured by shifting shadows from the torches on either side of the gate.
“We were told to let you out,” one of the men said, his voice too loud in the empty silence.
The double doors creaked as the men pushed them open. I looked over my shoulder at Nathan, truly looking at him for the first time since we’ve left Ellenia’s chambers, “Do you want to wait for Ellis?”
What was there for me to say, to feel? It was my job to remain silent and loyal. Surely Nathan expected that of me, for he did not wait or even glance in my direction as he stormed out. He thought coin was enough to buy my loyalty, at least while it kept steadily flowing into my purse. He wouldn’t be wrong.
Like a heartbeat, Nathan’s words were a steady echo in my mind. Want your life to matter. Whether he actually had that sort of pull was questionable; I never pegged Nathan to be anyone of influence, even if he was a Knight. His order remained a hazy memory in my mind. It had never occurred to me that they were more than just religious zealots, worshipping a forgotten pantheon of Gods.
Perhaps sensing my doubt, Ellenia offered me a look I couldn’t read. What I did see was an exhausted woman, barely able to stand upright with the weight of the armour pressing on her shoulders, amongst other, intangible, things. That momentary flash of anger I felt had dissipated, clearing my vision, and though I hated the way Ellenia felt comfortable in social warfare, I still felt pity towards her. She was, after all, a friend.
When I turned to leave – neither of us were in a habit to part in tearful goodbyes – Ellenia spoke. “His order is viewed as royalty, you know, in the nations they’ve built. He has the power to hold all of our lives in the palm of his hand and decide what to do with them. You decide if that is someone you wish to follow.”
Ellenia may have meant these words to be for Ellis, an attempt to have him stay loyal to her, but I understood the meaning behind her words and the look she’d given me.
Without a word, I headed for the door. Ellenia did not turn to look at Ellis when she continued:
“You may leave if you wish. This is not a place for heroics and fame. We are stuck in the cesspit of this land to contain an evil that is spreading due to the foolishness of others.” I had stepped over the threshold by then and went down the steps. The Commander’s voice followed me down the staircase. “No ballads will be sung about any of us and our names will be forgotten. Though mine will be cursed by many for leading their sons and husbands to a sure death by the hands of foul monsters.” By the time I had reached the base of the spiral staircase, Ellenia’s words were muffled, barely audible sounds against the staccato of my footsteps. “It matters little. All I care about is that the swamp is contained, because of it is not, it will swallow the world.”
I could claim that Ellenia’s revelation had no effect on me. That a Knight’s role being similar to that of a monarch meant nothing. Many would’ve been proud, lucky, even, to be working for someone of such importance. But I would be lying and Nathan was right, I was very bad at it, for I was sure my thoughts were on full display.
By the time I reached the stables, exhaustion began to prickle at my breast. I was running, hoping movement would clear my mind before I had to see Nathan. But whatever traitorous thoughts were chased away returned the moment I noticed Nathan standing by the stables, silent and angry. Without a word, I neared him and waited for the stable boy to ready our horses. A quartermaster brought our belongings shortly after my arrival. He carried my traveling bag and spear and a package wrapped in canvas that he gave to Nathan, explaining it was provisions for the journey. Then, he excused himself and returned to the main tower, leaving Nathan and I in an awkward silence.
The groom was dressing our horses for the journey quickly and efficiently, humming under his breath as he worked. I watched him as I slung my traveling bag across my chest and checked its contents out of habit and to give myself something to do. As I leaned against one of the supporting the ceiling wooden beams, legs crossed at the ankles, I opened the flap of my bag to take out the folded map and went over the planned route to Escus. We would have to travel through the night, which I wasn’t fond of doing, but with so little time to spare I imagined Nathan couldn’t care less what time of the day it was.
Raising my gaze from the map, I glanced at Nathan and flattened my lips. A pang of disgust rolled through me, rising bile to the back of my throat. The way he spoke in Ellenia’s chambers sent shivers down my spine and I hated remembering the way he spat out threats and claimed disinterest in the lives of others. It had never occurred to me that a Knight was someone of importance, possessing such authority as to try and give Ellania orders. But now that I knew, I hated that Nathan chose to use his authority – no matter how small it was, if Ellenia was to be believed – to threaten those who tried to do good.
But I did not know Nathan, did I?
Did I want to know him?
When the stable boy led a young thoroughbred chestnut to me and helped me on, I looked up at the fortress gates. I could leave. The thought was so tempting that I gripped the reins tighter and the horse obediently turned, silent and docile beneath me. Much unlike my previous mare, whose ripped carcass remained at the back of my mind.
Looking over my shoulder I watched the stable boy lead the other horse to Nathan. I looked back at the gate, gripping the reins so tightly the leather stripe scrunched in my hands and bit into the palms of my hands painfully. Window of opportunity was passing me by and…
This was supposed to be a normal, ordinary job. The child and the man protecting her were supposed to be normal, just people stuck in a situation when they needed a bodyguard and a guide. Out of selfishness and sheer belief that fate had brought me an opportunity to repay the debt I owe to Leon I chose to take on this job. Whether that was a mistake remained to be seen, but the more I thought on it, the more I wanted out.
I wanted to go back to the normality of my life. Away from politics and men with enough authority to rival that of a King.
The groom passed the reins into Nathan’s hands and, warily inspecting Nathan’s armour, asked if he required help getting onto the horse. I looked at the gate for the last time and pressed my lips so tightly together all colour drained from them.
No, I was not doing this for Nathan, even if he was the one giving me the coin. A child has been taken and I had to save her, not only because I knew what happened to those who got caught by the Church, but because I owed it to the kid. She’d saved my life out of selfish foolishness and desire to help.
Once Nathan was ready to set out, I led us towards the postern gate. The stable boy had given Nathan and me oil lanterns and the soft light helped illuminate the path towards the postern gate, which was dark and mostly abandoned, save for the men posted there. The gate was much smaller and was guarded by four tired men. They peered at us from beneath their helmets, their faces obscured by shifting shadows from the torches on either side of the gate.
“We were told to let you out,” one of the men said, his voice too loud in the empty silence.
The double doors creaked as the men pushed them open. I looked over my shoulder at Nathan, truly looking at him for the first time since we’ve left Ellenia’s chambers, “Do you want to wait for Ellis?”
Updated!
Maria sighed through her nose, expelling what little air had been in her lungs. She did not breathe in, not until Grayson was with his back to her. Mask came close to slipping entirely from the array of fragrances assaulting her nose.
There was something in the air. Pungent but faint, mixed with burnt oil and coffee beans—
“The girl is fine.”
But Grayson was already out of the booth and she dismissed him with a slight shake of the head. Silky tresses whispered promises of warmth against her skin. Instinctively her fingers stretched towards the spot beside her, the dent in the cushions where Grayson was moments ago. Fragments of his presence remained even if he had left her company for another. Warmth still lingered where his arm had been, where his hand squeezed hers, but the sensation was quickly chased away by the humming air conditioner.
She remained seated and leaned back, an elbow raised to prop onto the top of the backrest. Hand woven into her hair, fingertips pressed to the nape of her neck, Maria had her legs crossed and head tilted in silent bored curiosity as she watched the two by the counter.
They wore matching smiles, different from the smirk Maria was so used to seeing. A tell-tale heartbeat nearly drowned out the other; nervous breaths and a lowered gaze betrayed its owner. Their voices were crystal clear, loud and echoed in the empty diner, and Maria listened to their conversation, seeking to find amusement in it if only to be rid of the painful vise gripping her chest.
It was borrowed jealousy. Tasted through blood. Much different from the sad envy that she felt as she listened. Its intensity was bound to pass soon.
“We’re not anything, really. She just likes to mess with people.”
Out of everything said, this should have been reason for jealousy. Grayson was not wrong, no matter what happened between them a week ago. She did not fool herself with naïve thoughts and fantasies of a love-filled future, as the waitress must’ve occupied her mind with. And while it was interesting that Grayson thought to elaborate on his relationship with his companion, Maria did not expect him to claim anything else.
“You know me too well, Sue.”
“You’re a dream.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The part of her heart that was permanently vacant hurt. Maria inclined her head to spare her eyes the harsh glare of fluorescent lightning and smiled, small and sad. Her want was almost tangible in the air, enhanced by jealousy that she knew was not hers. As the waitress envied Maria for being Grayson’s companion, Maria envied the other for something as small as a tender nickname. Sue.
For an instant, Maria allowed herself to daydream, to imagine a different scenario where she was human. Would she have a nickname too? If so, what would it be? Em? Mary? Neither fit and really, Maria didn’t require one but yearned for it anyway. Craved its simplicity, its intimacy. Wanted it because another, a mortal, had it.
Grayson’s nearing footsteps – loud, even if he thought them not to be – had Maria look up and rearrange her features into a mask of careful neutrality. Relaxed and seemingly unbothered by the conversation she’d witnessed, lounging leisurely in the booth that she wanted out of. She lifted an equivocal shoulder when Grayson glanced at her and couldn’t stifle the amusement it brought her to witness a wonderful display of an awkward invitation to a date.
This time Maria felt no envy as she watched the waitress retreat behind the counter. Once out of earshot, she leaned forward to pinch the flier between her fingers to pull it down to read it.
“I see you will not be alone tomorrow night,” she chuckled and released the paper. “Whatever do you need flour and baking soda for?” A breeze whispered against her cheeks. Maria inhaled. “Had we run out—”
Mint soap and faint hints of cologne mixed with body odour. Cigarette smoke and herbal medicine and creams, pungent smell of sweat absorbed by faux leather. Farther away, oil and burnt food, crispy clean fragrance of dish soap. Coffee filter, unchanged, since early morning; an earthy aroma of a new batch brewing.
Beneath layers and layers of scents was another, more horrifying in nature. It stuck to the flier, to the waitress who’d given it to Grayson. Very faint, almost undetectable, dismissed at first for she wasn’t sure—
Maria’s smile faltered and dropped her gaze to the flier. She pulled it from Grayson’s hand and pressed the paper to her nose. Brows knit together in bewilderment when she deeply breathed in the array of scents that the paper had absorbed during its time behind the counter.
The paper crumpled where she held it and Maria’s eyes shot open, all hints of mirth gone. Without offering any explanation, she pushed the flier back into Grayson’s hands and climbed out of the booth. She followed the scent like a hound dog, to the counter and past it, struggling to ignore the fragrances that masked the pungent stench of rotting flesh.
The door to the kitchen was just behind the diner. A narrow window offered a view of the working staff and Maria caught a glimpse of a young man in an apron leaning against a cold stovetop, phone in hand. Another had just gone out the back door to dispose of the trash. The waitress was by the coffee machine, pouring the drink into a plastic cup. Maria took her by the elbow and turned her around. Hot coffee spilled over the top of the cup, splashed to the floor.
Maria halted in her step long enough to issue a simple command. Brown eyes met amber. The last flare of jealousy flashed and died.
“You will not pay attention to me.”
The waitress was spared no further attention and Maria let go, storming past her and into the kitchen. It was a narrow room, with equipment along the far wall and the stove across it, under the narrow window overlooking the dining area. Maria took in the area in a quick survey – the checkered tile floors and the smooth metal surfaces of the countertops, where cleaning liquid dried and reflected the fluorescent ceiling light; the splattered with sauce and cooking oil orders of food pinched above the stovetop; pieces of food that hid in the shadows of the countertops.
“They ordering?” The young man did not lift his eyes from the device in his hand. “Susan?”
Maria paid him no mind. She had her eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. When the boy received no answer, he must have looked up and was taken aback by the stranger standing still in the centre of the kitchen. A sharp intake of breath had Maria snap her eyes open and turn to look at the boy. His lips were parted in confusion or beginnings of a warning but the instant their gazes locked, he was given the same command as the waitress and his features relaxed. The boy yawned and returned his attention to the phone.
The trance she’d put the two humans under was sloppy but that was the last thing on Maria’s mind. What mattered was the rot, the smell of decaying flesh and dried blood. She’d been searching for this scent for months, traced it out of Bedford and across the desert, growing sick of being unable to find its source.
The flier carried it, faint but noticeable once Maria had fed. But even with that piece of paper out of her hand, Maria could still smell the rot in the air, stronger than before, impossible not to notice even beneath layers upon layers of other odours. Each step taken towards the corner of the kitchen where the fridge buzzed its electric hum brought Maria closer to its source.
The tiles ended abruptly just under the fridge. She crouched down and put her hand to the floor, fingertips dancing on the border between tile and bare stone. There, hidden by the shadow and a coating of dust, the floor was uneven.
Maria pulled her hand back, slid the pad of her thumb over her fingertips. An uncomfortable sensation travelled up her arm to her head, set her teeth on edge. She ignored it, blamed the electronic hum of the fridge, and rose to put her hands on either side of the refrigerator. Its legs scraped loudly against the tiles when Maria effortlessly moved it forward and to the side until wires were taut and ultimately snapped out of the sockets.
The fridge grew silent. The sensation remained.
A neat square of painted white wooden boards covered the floor where the fridge had been. Maria fell to one knee and started to pull the boards out. The wood bent under inhuman strength and splintered, dusted Maria’s lap in chipped paint and shards of wood. Each board pulled out increased the discomfort Maria felt, the high pitched imaginary noise deep in her ears.
The boards were hiding an entrance into what appeared to be a basement or a larder. A single door of decades old wood on rusty hinges stained by age and grime, secured by a heavy-duty lock woven through thick metal hoops, one on the door and the other in the stone floor. Maria picked up the lock to twist it on its hoop into the light. Its brand name was engraved into its front in bold letters and the stainless steel seemed too bright, too out of place, against the aged door.
She crushed the lock in her hand. The steel twisted under her strength, the hoop snapped, and, when Maria let go, what remained of the lock fell heavily onto the door. She flung the door open and it crashed against the wall. A cloud of disturbed dust flew into the air and carried with it the smell of wet decay and mouldering earth.
Maria raised her eyes from the dark hole in the floor, from the ground that appeared to be some ten feet below, to the door. Metal plating reinforced it from the inside. She did not need to touch the uniform strips of metal to confirm that they were silver. It explained the discomfort she felt.
The ladder into the basement was missing but she did not require one. She jumped down without pause, landing softly, and straightened, head tilted up to look at the patch of white light above.
“Come, love,” she called out, arms raised at her sides, palms up, “I’ll catch you.”
Maria sighed through her nose, expelling what little air had been in her lungs. She did not breathe in, not until Grayson was with his back to her. Mask came close to slipping entirely from the array of fragrances assaulting her nose.
There was something in the air. Pungent but faint, mixed with burnt oil and coffee beans—
“The girl is fine.”
But Grayson was already out of the booth and she dismissed him with a slight shake of the head. Silky tresses whispered promises of warmth against her skin. Instinctively her fingers stretched towards the spot beside her, the dent in the cushions where Grayson was moments ago. Fragments of his presence remained even if he had left her company for another. Warmth still lingered where his arm had been, where his hand squeezed hers, but the sensation was quickly chased away by the humming air conditioner.
She remained seated and leaned back, an elbow raised to prop onto the top of the backrest. Hand woven into her hair, fingertips pressed to the nape of her neck, Maria had her legs crossed and head tilted in silent bored curiosity as she watched the two by the counter.
They wore matching smiles, different from the smirk Maria was so used to seeing. A tell-tale heartbeat nearly drowned out the other; nervous breaths and a lowered gaze betrayed its owner. Their voices were crystal clear, loud and echoed in the empty diner, and Maria listened to their conversation, seeking to find amusement in it if only to be rid of the painful vise gripping her chest.
It was borrowed jealousy. Tasted through blood. Much different from the sad envy that she felt as she listened. Its intensity was bound to pass soon.
“We’re not anything, really. She just likes to mess with people.”
Out of everything said, this should have been reason for jealousy. Grayson was not wrong, no matter what happened between them a week ago. She did not fool herself with naïve thoughts and fantasies of a love-filled future, as the waitress must’ve occupied her mind with. And while it was interesting that Grayson thought to elaborate on his relationship with his companion, Maria did not expect him to claim anything else.
“You know me too well, Sue.”
“You’re a dream.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The part of her heart that was permanently vacant hurt. Maria inclined her head to spare her eyes the harsh glare of fluorescent lightning and smiled, small and sad. Her want was almost tangible in the air, enhanced by jealousy that she knew was not hers. As the waitress envied Maria for being Grayson’s companion, Maria envied the other for something as small as a tender nickname. Sue.
For an instant, Maria allowed herself to daydream, to imagine a different scenario where she was human. Would she have a nickname too? If so, what would it be? Em? Mary? Neither fit and really, Maria didn’t require one but yearned for it anyway. Craved its simplicity, its intimacy. Wanted it because another, a mortal, had it.
Grayson’s nearing footsteps – loud, even if he thought them not to be – had Maria look up and rearrange her features into a mask of careful neutrality. Relaxed and seemingly unbothered by the conversation she’d witnessed, lounging leisurely in the booth that she wanted out of. She lifted an equivocal shoulder when Grayson glanced at her and couldn’t stifle the amusement it brought her to witness a wonderful display of an awkward invitation to a date.
This time Maria felt no envy as she watched the waitress retreat behind the counter. Once out of earshot, she leaned forward to pinch the flier between her fingers to pull it down to read it.
“I see you will not be alone tomorrow night,” she chuckled and released the paper. “Whatever do you need flour and baking soda for?” A breeze whispered against her cheeks. Maria inhaled. “Had we run out—”
Mint soap and faint hints of cologne mixed with body odour. Cigarette smoke and herbal medicine and creams, pungent smell of sweat absorbed by faux leather. Farther away, oil and burnt food, crispy clean fragrance of dish soap. Coffee filter, unchanged, since early morning; an earthy aroma of a new batch brewing.
Beneath layers and layers of scents was another, more horrifying in nature. It stuck to the flier, to the waitress who’d given it to Grayson. Very faint, almost undetectable, dismissed at first for she wasn’t sure—
Maria’s smile faltered and dropped her gaze to the flier. She pulled it from Grayson’s hand and pressed the paper to her nose. Brows knit together in bewilderment when she deeply breathed in the array of scents that the paper had absorbed during its time behind the counter.
The paper crumpled where she held it and Maria’s eyes shot open, all hints of mirth gone. Without offering any explanation, she pushed the flier back into Grayson’s hands and climbed out of the booth. She followed the scent like a hound dog, to the counter and past it, struggling to ignore the fragrances that masked the pungent stench of rotting flesh.
The door to the kitchen was just behind the diner. A narrow window offered a view of the working staff and Maria caught a glimpse of a young man in an apron leaning against a cold stovetop, phone in hand. Another had just gone out the back door to dispose of the trash. The waitress was by the coffee machine, pouring the drink into a plastic cup. Maria took her by the elbow and turned her around. Hot coffee spilled over the top of the cup, splashed to the floor.
Maria halted in her step long enough to issue a simple command. Brown eyes met amber. The last flare of jealousy flashed and died.
“You will not pay attention to me.”
The waitress was spared no further attention and Maria let go, storming past her and into the kitchen. It was a narrow room, with equipment along the far wall and the stove across it, under the narrow window overlooking the dining area. Maria took in the area in a quick survey – the checkered tile floors and the smooth metal surfaces of the countertops, where cleaning liquid dried and reflected the fluorescent ceiling light; the splattered with sauce and cooking oil orders of food pinched above the stovetop; pieces of food that hid in the shadows of the countertops.
“They ordering?” The young man did not lift his eyes from the device in his hand. “Susan?”
Maria paid him no mind. She had her eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. When the boy received no answer, he must have looked up and was taken aback by the stranger standing still in the centre of the kitchen. A sharp intake of breath had Maria snap her eyes open and turn to look at the boy. His lips were parted in confusion or beginnings of a warning but the instant their gazes locked, he was given the same command as the waitress and his features relaxed. The boy yawned and returned his attention to the phone.
The trance she’d put the two humans under was sloppy but that was the last thing on Maria’s mind. What mattered was the rot, the smell of decaying flesh and dried blood. She’d been searching for this scent for months, traced it out of Bedford and across the desert, growing sick of being unable to find its source.
The flier carried it, faint but noticeable once Maria had fed. But even with that piece of paper out of her hand, Maria could still smell the rot in the air, stronger than before, impossible not to notice even beneath layers upon layers of other odours. Each step taken towards the corner of the kitchen where the fridge buzzed its electric hum brought Maria closer to its source.
The tiles ended abruptly just under the fridge. She crouched down and put her hand to the floor, fingertips dancing on the border between tile and bare stone. There, hidden by the shadow and a coating of dust, the floor was uneven.
Maria pulled her hand back, slid the pad of her thumb over her fingertips. An uncomfortable sensation travelled up her arm to her head, set her teeth on edge. She ignored it, blamed the electronic hum of the fridge, and rose to put her hands on either side of the refrigerator. Its legs scraped loudly against the tiles when Maria effortlessly moved it forward and to the side until wires were taut and ultimately snapped out of the sockets.
The fridge grew silent. The sensation remained.
A neat square of painted white wooden boards covered the floor where the fridge had been. Maria fell to one knee and started to pull the boards out. The wood bent under inhuman strength and splintered, dusted Maria’s lap in chipped paint and shards of wood. Each board pulled out increased the discomfort Maria felt, the high pitched imaginary noise deep in her ears.
The boards were hiding an entrance into what appeared to be a basement or a larder. A single door of decades old wood on rusty hinges stained by age and grime, secured by a heavy-duty lock woven through thick metal hoops, one on the door and the other in the stone floor. Maria picked up the lock to twist it on its hoop into the light. Its brand name was engraved into its front in bold letters and the stainless steel seemed too bright, too out of place, against the aged door.
She crushed the lock in her hand. The steel twisted under her strength, the hoop snapped, and, when Maria let go, what remained of the lock fell heavily onto the door. She flung the door open and it crashed against the wall. A cloud of disturbed dust flew into the air and carried with it the smell of wet decay and mouldering earth.
Maria raised her eyes from the dark hole in the floor, from the ground that appeared to be some ten feet below, to the door. Metal plating reinforced it from the inside. She did not need to touch the uniform strips of metal to confirm that they were silver. It explained the discomfort she felt.
The ladder into the basement was missing but she did not require one. She jumped down without pause, landing softly, and straightened, head tilted up to look at the patch of white light above.
“Come, love,” she called out, arms raised at her sides, palms up, “I’ll catch you.”
We do not need to stick to the plots described above, as we can brainstorm our own or maybe you have some ideas that you'd like to use. PM me or reply to the thread if you're interested!
Currently craving the vampire and the modern settings!
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we have similar styles and preferences, might work out
