Fantasy The Last Judgement

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[div class=WarningLabel]P A R E N T A L ✟ A D V I S O R Y ✟ E X P L I C I T ✟ C O N T E N T[/div]

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[div class=statusText] Location: Nightmare
BGM: You're So Vain
OOC: The gif is of Nicholas Lawson.
Part 1 of 5
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He awakes without warning, eyes flung so wide that each iris is a perfect orb of arctic ocean blue. After a second or two his head turns like some sort of Halloween dummy, mouth slackened, body still half hunched over his desk. Had he fallen asleep at work? Strange. He could have sworn he had been somewhere else. The office was swathed in indigo, creating textures of blue-black shadow and baby blue light. He would have found it odd, the world had never been filtered in a blue lens before, but the pain in his head kept him from dwelling on it for too long. The noises of the station were a constant hum in his ears: echo pads chirping, frantic typing, distorted conversations, the occasional noise of a pen scrawling against paper, an arrant thief proclaiming their innocence. It was comforting in the sort of way his apartment could never be. Ordered chaos. He leaned back in his chair, smacking his lips slightly in confusion. Had he had peanut butter for lunch?

He swiped a hand over his face, trying to wipe out the tiredness. It had been a long time since he had fallen asleep like that at his desk. The area he shared with Lawson was in a state of half organized clutter, mahogany desk with three drawers on the right hand side, swivel chair, Dell's Holo-PC that Lawson had an unhealthy obsession with, several stacks of paperwork, pens in a tin, old case files leaning against one another different directions, a filling cabinet with paper work stacked on top, a water dispenser with no cups. Him falling asleep might have been a bit more embarrassing if he had been stuck out there with the rest of New York's finest. He was just glad that Lawson hadn't happened upon him taking a nap. God only knew what shit he would give him for passing out on the clock. Last time he woke up with a dick drawn on his hand. Sometimes he couldn't believe that the Captain had promoted this guy to Lieutenant. A vibration on his desk focused his gaze towards his phone, an older model iPhone but it still worked for all intents and purposes. His brows furrowed at the messages, swiping past the unread notifications and tapping on the messages from Monica.
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Current Weather
Partly Sunny
79°F
New York City, NY

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Current Events
A "Serial Killer" on the loose?
Signs she's unfaithful
Iphone Industrial-75 launch date release

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Unread Messages
1 from Lawson
8 from Monica
4 from Blondie >;P

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Monica[div class=leftchat]I'm bored.

[div class=leftchat]baaaaby[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Wht time r u coming home?[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Em, answer meeeeeee[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Emrys [/div]
[div class=leftchat]Ansr ur phone or I'm calling the station[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Rhys [/div]
[div class=leftchat]Would u ansr me!?[/div]
[div class=rightchat]Then go do something. I'm at work. I'll b home @7ish[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Thx for all the luv babe! (That was sarcastic btw) [/div]
[div class=leftchat]I just want to do something wit u. You've been working nonstop lately [/div]
[div class=rightchat]Depends on what this 'something' is.[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Naughty boy [/div]
[div class=rightchat]Not what I was talking about. Sorry, I've just been working on an important case.[/div]
[div class=leftchat]U kno sometimes I think u love ur job more than u love me [/div]
[div class=rightchat]Listen, Monica, I gtg we'll talk about it later tonight[/div]
[div class=leftchat]Fine. Whteva I'll ttyl[/div]
[div class=rightchat]I love you and I'll make it up to you, promise.[/div]

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He watched as the little check appeared next to his last message. Rhys knew she saw it, so he waited for that reply back-- the one that would make him feel a little less like a dick --but it never came. He sat there, staring at the phone in his lap until the screen grew dark and eventually turned black. A cold ache rested in his chest, one that he had tried to ignore more times than he cared to admit. He was starting to think that he was inventing excuses to stay. He had to admit, they were getting pretty creative. Even with the mountains of evidence that implied a high possibility of divorce, he still tried to ignore it, like a lovesick fool; like a drug addict dying from an overdose. He had wanted to marry her and when she said yes he thought his life couldn't get anymore perfect. Like it was all starting to go his way for once: his parents were talking to him again, he had a stable career, an apartment, and a girl he probably spoiled more than what she really deserved.
He was slow to put the phone back on the desktop, still holding on to that fake hope that she would reply back. That everything was okay and he wasn't starting to think this was just some elaborately beautiful lie. Maybe she'd change once they got married and it was just the stress of planning a wedding that was getting to her.
Or maybe she'd finally crush his heart into a million pieces.

"Contiello, just the man I was looking for."

A figure slid across his desk, ignoring the files he had systematically placed into piles. There was a noise of irritation that left the back of his throat, almost dropping the cell phone as cool blue eyes moved up to the man making a mess of his work.

Nicholas Lawson: Best friend, Detective, and overall pain in his ass. He was the type of man --although verging on the ripe age of forty-three-- who tended to act a lot younger than he actually was. A young soul is what he would've called himself and Rhys was subject to every single one of his antics. Not that he didn't enjoy them. Nick was one of his only real friends, or at least the only friend he bothered to stay in continual contact with besides Pop Rocks, so he found himself getting dragged along for the ride whether he wanted to or not. Dark chocolate orbs remained trained on him, a subtle serious lurking behind his playful exterior.

The seat groaned as Rhys laid further back in it, crossing his arms as he fixed the older man a flat look. "What do you need, Lawson?"
He shrugged, a tick to his shoulders and he quickly turned his head from side to side as if trying to make sure no one was listening before leaning in. "Riiiight, so I might have looked into that possible lead ya mentioned."

Rhys leaned forward, hands crossed on top of his desk as if suddenly interested in what he was being told. A smooth eyebrow arched in response, "And?"

A sigh.

"Nothin'. Listen, kid I think you should let this one go--" He shuffled for something in his pocket before pulling out one of those old school cigarettes, the ones that stunk and yellowed your teeth. He never understood why the man insisted on buying them (or where he even purchased them in the first place) but everyone had their vices.

"No. No way. He's killed twelve girls that we know of." Rhys jabbed his finger into a picture, with a sticky note pasted on haphazardly, as if to make a point.

The heart had been cleaved from the body. The throat cut from ear to ear. The arteries, now drained of their life fluid, stuck out like so many rubber hoses. The skin had been peeled back and pinned with iron nails, haphazardly banged in with a household hammer. The ribs cage had been cracked and pried open, the whiteness of the bone shone out in the sea of flesh. The face was now the grayish color of a cadaver. I can't help but wonder how much of the procedure the victim had lived through. There were rope burns on the wrists and ankles. But the mouth wasn't gagged. Maybe the killer enjoyed the screams?

"I need to make sure this monster lives in a cell for the rest of his life. I owe it to these girls and their families."

The two were quiet for a moment, just staring at one another. Then a grin slid across his friend's face, the flame from the lighter casting a shadow on his face before it flickered out of existence, easy and somehow weirdly supportive. "I love it when you talk dirty, baby."
Rhys blanched, throwing his pen at the man. His nose scrunching as the stench of tobacco drifted towards him. "Get the fuck off my desk you weirdo."

Nick scrambled off with a laugh, moving to stand beside the younger man now. "Hey man, speakin' of weirdos you still haven't answered me on your bachelor party! I told you, I've got the hook-ups. You can invite some of your academy buddies, it'll be a blast."

Rhys gave a shrug, leaning back in his chair once again. "Monica and I talked about it last night and we agreed--" Nick made a barely concealed noise that was a mixture of annoyance and disgust. Rhys glared at him slightly. "We agreed that it would be best if I didn't have one."

"Bullshit. You can tell that bitch to get her head out her ass 'cause you're havin' a goddamn bacholar party on...", he made a point of flipping through his phone before continuing, "Saturday. If she don't like it, she can suck my giant black--"

"Alright, alright, I get it. No need to go into detail."

Nick grinned triumphantly, "Good. Now would you rather go to the traditional strip club? Or I could order some strippers you know...either gender, Jackie can sit with you an' drool over whatever dude they send."

Rhys felt his face glow crimson, sinking into his desk chair as he groaned. He wished the world would swallow him whole just so he wouldn't have to deal with that knowing grin."I'll take that as both." Rhys ran a hand down his face, glaring at his partner from between his fingers. "Why are you like this?"
Nick only grinned in response, heading over towards his desk to grab his coat. Was it almost seven already? He hadn't been paying attention to the time.

"Because if I don't look after ya, who will?"

Rhys was quiet for a second, giving the other detective a small smile hoping that his appreciation showed without him really having to say anything.
"I'll see you tomorrow at 9am sharp. No slackin' off there Contiello."
He rolled his eyes, getting up from his own desk to collect his things, "Says the man who's always late."
Nick shrugged in response, a crooked grin settling over his face. "What can I say? Jackie keeps my mornings busy if you catch my drift."
Rhys let out a heavy sigh as if that was a line he had heard far too many times to be affected by. "Yeah, yeah, watch yourself out there, old man."

"Likewise, kiddo."

With that, Lawson exited their shared office and Rhys gathered his things to follow his path out. As he slung his suit jacket over his shoulders, he thought he saw movement out the corner of his eye. Something like blond hair and a red jacket. Such a quick image that contrasted so quickly with the world around him that he wasn't even sure that he saw it. He slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling something small and smooth. Startled, he pulled the object out revealing a stone just big enough to rest comfortably in the center of his hand. It was blue, but not the blue of his surroundings and not the same blue that colored every person and every face and every smile.

"For when you worry too much..." The voice was in his ear, distant, distorted, almost like a memory that he couldn't make sense of, "...and I'm not there to hold onto." There was another flash of red, a face, blond hair, a feeling that thrummed in his veins. Warm. Comfort. Familiar. He blinked and the figure was gone, but the impression remained. His thumb slid across the surface of the stone and suddenly it was like his environment no longer made sense. He pulled out his phone, staring at the unread messages marked from someone named Blondie but they wouldn't open. No matter how hard he pushed at the notification, it was like his phone had frozen itself. Perplexed and more than a little unnerved, he continued to hold the stone as he made his way back home. Trickles of memories flooding in from somewhere that almost seemed like another lifetime, another universe. It's as his thumb caresses the edge of the worry stone for the eighth time that he remembers what this is.

What this day was.

A memory, a dream, he couldn't really say for sure.

What he did know, however, was that this was the day his world fell apart and it started out just like any other.
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[Hell0NHighWater]

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[div class=WarningLabel]P A R E N T A L ✟ A D V I S O R Y ✟ E X P L I C I T ✟ C O N T E N T[/div]

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[div class=statusText] Location: Nightmare
BGM: Sweet Dreams
OOC: I know the notes look a little weird on PC and I'm sorry I was trying to make them more mobile friendly.
Part 2 of 5
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]

The feeling comes right before his hand settles on the door knob.

It’s a familiar thing. It’s a house too quiet, the light out over the kitchen sink when Monica always left it on for him. It’s broken glass on his living room floor, a picture shattered that echoes the broken place he comes home to. The unease is the same. The sense of dread, crawling slowly up his spine wrapping around each vertebrae like the sickening twist of a snake. Barely able to breathe, because he’s waiting for the next painful blow to fall.

His hand hovers over the door. His skin left crawling, because he knows he will open it, and everything will change.

It makes Rhys want to turn around, to leave and go back the way he came. Retreat down the hallway, find Alaska or James or someone, gather Nik back into his arms. Her blood is still staining the floor on the other side of the door. He still feels the life leaving her small frame, the sensation of blood spilling over his fingers no matter how hard he tried to press it back into her veins. And that alone is enough to make him want to run, because he can barely feel anything but that awful sinking sensation, and he thinks now that it’s death breathing down the back of his neck.

Something is wrong.

Everything is wrong.

His fingers tighten on the door. His heart thunders in his chest, he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears. He turns the handle and pushes it open.

.

-blood, staining the carpet-​

There’s blood on the floor. He sees that first, a flicker of red at his feet. His gaze follows it, only now there’s more of it, a wider trail winding its way past the couch. Too much, thick and dark, smeared across the ground by someone’s worn soles, all of it ending at the only inevitable conclusion. The dark lump near the bed.

Somewhere outside the floor to ceiling windows a cloud shifts, moonlight slips through and silver light settles on crumpled mass.

His eyes catch that dirty blonde hair first. Splayed across the floor and streaked with red, and it’s painful just how familiar that image is. His eyes are open, orbs like frosted, shattered glass. A bright red line drawn across his throat, covered by calloused fingers.

His hands are curved protectively around himself, one hand still trying to hold the wound across his neck closed. Rhys’ eyes find his in the darkness, searching for that mirth to shine back at him. But there’s nothing, eyes just as wide, just as open and dead. His gaze shifts away. Finds the tattoos on his shoulder instead, traces the path of them, memorizes every sharp curve with a forced detachment because it’s easier than looking at his face.

The scene’s familiar. Every part of it, they way that his body curls, the coldness in the air from the absence of life or breath.

He could run to him, but he's already dead.

Rhys doesn’t move. He stays in the doorway, gaze skating away from the fallen body, because he doesn’t want to see anymore. He doesn’t want that image in his head, when he knows it isn’t real.

That at least, he knows with absolute certainty.

If it were he’d already be screaming, grasping at his body and begging him not to leave. Not to be the only one left in this wasteland, left only with the smooth stone in his pocket and pale memories to hold onto. He doesn’t want this one added to it. He lets out a breath, shuts it away, lets his gaze skate across the bloody stain on the floor, because even that isn’t real. His hand slips into his pocket, thumb ghosting over the already worn edge of the stone because at least that is real.

And then something changes.

The atmosphere shifts. It’s a subtle change, but he’s too aware of it, brow furrowing as he watches the light in the room seem to waver. Like someone changing channels, a flicker across his vision, a moment out of time that he’s missed.

His gaze moves back to the body.

And his blood runs cold. This time, it’s a more familiar sight. This time, it’s Monica. Smooth, tanned skin, golden curls splayed across the ground, the rest matted to the side of her head with blood. She’s still wearing his tee shirt, soft gray heather, Batman symbol emblazoned on the front, checkered pajama shorts, ring around her finger.

His chest constricts tightly, and he knows this isn’t real either. She’s already dead and gone. He knows it’s just as much of an illusion as the sight of Nik lying in her place.

But it’s the first time he’s seen her in years. And he... misses her. The sound of her voice, quietly singing beneath her breath. The softness of her hands, thumbs smoothing the lines between his brow, interrupting the fierce concentration he devoted to files filled with bloodied portraits of death.

Some desperate part of him wants to close that space between them, as if this time when his hand grasps at her shoulder it’ll be enough to wake her back up.

It’ll be enough to save her.

Only his gaze shifts, follows the curve of her arm, the way it wraps around the bundle in her arms, and the urge to wail follows. A lightning of pure fury contorts her image. He hadn't known.... He didn't even think...That couldn't have been possible! There was no way. His brain was struggling to come up with a conclusion. To think past the anger. A factual reason for this to be here. Why had he been shown this? Why? He knew he couldn't have kids. It was biologically impossible for him and yet here she was, cradling a babe in her arms that he knew wasn't his.

He can’t breathe. He knows it isn’t real. He knows this has already happened, somehow she had been pregnant (and conveniently forgot to mention it to him) but there’s nothing else here that he hasn’t seen before. It still hurts though, now more than ever he feels like screaming, yet he still can’t tear his gaze away.

.

-while the Monica went for the gun kept in the top drawer of the dresser. The assailant caught up to her before she could get the case unlocked, stabbing her three times in the lower back before she collapsed-

-Judging by the blood trail and the wounds on her hands, we believe she then attacked her assailant. she was stabbed again in the abdomen-

-her throat was then cut from ear to ear-

- hand was still gripping her neck in an attempt to hold the blood in when her attacker stabbed her again-

-corner suggested she was two weeks along-​

The image in front of him isn’t real. Rhys knows that. Even through the aching breaths he struggles to draw, he knows none of this is real.

The memory is.

He holds onto it for too long, like some form of self-punishment, and then he shuts it away tightly. Blocks out the image, shuts down all the anger, the grief, and the pain that threatens to come crashing down around him all over again. None of it is real. Everything in this place is wrong.

And it’s with his eyes closed that he becomes acutely aware that he isn’t alone in this room.

It isn’t the body he thinks will still be there when he opens them. It’s something else, the presence of someone else. Like quiet breaths, the sound of white static on a dead television, an electronic hum that echoes through telephone wires. Someone else is in the room.

His eyes slide open. There’s still blood on the floor. It’s Nik curled back by the bed. His gaze skates over him, past him. To the bed sitting empty, back over the blood stains to the couch sitting in the middle of the room, the chair arranged next to it. The shadows that seem somehow thicker, somehow darker.

“Who’s here?” he demands.

His own voice almost startles him with how loud it is, enough to crack ice, and he’s aware of an abrupt silence following. His fingers brush past the metal of his badge to settle on the handle of his gun, thumb unlatching the holster.

“I know someone’s here,” he tries again. “Show yourself.”

Another breath of silence. A heartbeat. He stands, tense and anxious, gaze darting around the room for that something, that sign that he isn’t alone here.

The man appears in the blink of an eye. Rhys' lids slide closed, and when they open again someone is sitting in the chair next to the couch. He knows him the second he lays eyes on him, or at least who he’s supposed to be. And the thoughts are at odds with each other, something surreal and supernatural about every second ticking by in this room.

He looks like Styles. He holds himself the same, smiles the same. He looks like he did his last night on earth: cocky, self-assured, watching Rhys with a vague curiosity reflecting back at him, as if daring him to step outside the hard lines drawn around him.

“Hello Detective,” he muses.

Rhys' fingers don’t stray from his gun. “Who are you?“

Laughter greets him. He winces at the sound of it, because it’s a grating thing, nails over a chalkboard, the snapping of guitar strings. “That’s it? No hello, no nice to see you?”

Once he might’ve played along. When he’d been Detective Costiello, the man who hadn’t already lost everything at the hands of the monster standing in front of him. He can’t summon anything now except that same question. “Who are you?”

The smile widens. Silence greets him for a moment, a beat out of time. “You don’t recognize me?” His head tilts to the side, and then he’s pressing himself from the chair. The motion slow, and he thinks it’s a purposeful thing, because the urge to draw that weapon at his side is stronger than it’s ever been. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

His head straightens. Red begins to bloom across his chest.

.

-the muzzle flash is bright and loud in the dark alleyway, three quick blasts that echo off the walls, the scent of gun smoke hanging thick and heavy in the aftermath. they punch holes in his chest, the man crying out in pain, feet stumbling backwards-

-it isn’t enough. there are still bullets in his gun, the man’s still struggling for air, his fiancee's still dead, all those people dead at his hands-

-the next two punch holes in his stomach. Styles falls to his knees after that. He says something, it might be a plea for mercy, it might be curses, Rhys never hears any of it. The next shot tears a hole through his neck. blood hits the ground in brighter waves after that. He’s stepping closer, he pulls the trigger again, there’s a bullet tearing through the man’s forehead, blood and brain matter scattering across the cement behind him. He shoots him again, and again, and again-

-and he should be satisfied, it should count for something, but he doesn’t feel anything even as the gun clicks hollow-
​

They appear one by one, wounds inflicted by Rhys' gun, at Rhys' hands, flesh melting as he mimics the bullet that tore through his throat, a hole appearing in his forehead. Another through his eye. He’s rotting in front of him, the body of a dead murderer standing in front of him. A haunting image that shouldn’t exist.

And it doesn’t. None of it’s real. At least, none of what he sees, but there’s an awful pressure bearing down on him, the certainty that someone or something is standing there in front of him. The rest is just a show, and Rhys holds his gaze and his voice steady.

“Styles is gone. Who the fuck are you?”

There’s a flicker, something like fury slipping across the face of Jeffery Styles, a crack in that illusion that he can’t tell is revealed intentionally or not. It shifts, contorts, like a black-eyed demon who didn’t know how to wear human skin. And the voice that comes from his throat sounds nothing like his rasping tones. It’s something far worse. “I am the road into madness, child. To gaze upon me is to gaze into the abyss.”

Rhys' spine stiffens the moment he hears that voice. Something inhuman, ancient and old, and there’s a fierce and violent reaction somewhere inside his chest. A sensation that’s becoming more and more familiar, something set aflame behind his ribs.

His eyes slide closed, the rush of blood in his ears trying to combat the screeching of something metallic and discordant ringing in his ears.

He isn’t aware of it, but when his eyes open they’re burning gold.

And he can see.

Everything shifts, an illusion stripped away, and it isn’t a welcoming, clean room anymore. The floors are stained with red and black, old blood long dried and covered again with fresh crimson until the ground’s made tacky with it. The walls are shredded, lines drawn over and over again against its surface like someone or countless someones trying to claw their way free. The bed is rotted, the couches the same, and the room smells like sulfur and ash.

It isn’t a man that stands in front of him. He doesn’t look like Styles anymore. It resembles a man only in the most basic sense, the limbs all in the same place, the head where it’s meant to be. Those feel like the only similarities, because when his mouth curves in a smile, it’s something wicked and feral, the edges of his mouth dragging up too far, until his skull itself looks split in half. Features barely visible behind the shadows that rise and collect around him, like smoke rising off a burning ember.

His eyes, the gaze that greets Rhys’, are burning red pits, and he thinks yes, this is what it means to gaze into the abyss. Because there is only death and horror reflecting back at him, the murder of his loved ones committed a thousand times. Rhys' father, his mother, his grandfather, slaughtered again and again. Nik’s wife, his kid, desecrated by an evil he could never have protected them from.

It’s the screaming of the dying, trapped in flames. It’s every parent that abused their child, and left them huddled and terrified with too many scars littering their skin. It’s the death of everyone here, everyone they ever knew, a thousand ghosts dancing in those red flames.

He can taste the ash on the air, falling slowly from the ceiling, and it’s a long time before the question finally escapes him, some odd role reversal taking place.

”What the fuck are you?"

The creature takes a step forward. His spine stiffens, hand curving tighter around the gun at his side. Black malevolence rising off it in waves, and he can feel it, spreading through the house, playing at the edges of every thought and every sight he’s witnessing now. “I am a Marquis of Hell.” There’s a shaking in the walls when he speaks. Another step forward, that pressure bearing down on Rhys’ shoulders until he can barely breathe. “You should kneel before me.”

Another step, and instead Rhys is drawing his gun. “You should put your fuckin' hands on your head.”

A noise rips from the throat of the thing in front of him. Something like laughter, awful and vicious as it shakes the foundations of the house. “You dare? You are nothing to me. You worry for that blond man? You worry for how much he sees?” He tips his head forward, the flash of white teeth in the darkness. “I’ll tear his eyes from his skull. I’ll break every bone in his body and leave him helpless and blind until the hounds of hell devour him.”

There’s another step forward. It’s an effort to hold his place, but there’s a dull burning fury roaring to life in his chest. Something violent and cold, the certainty that some things were too dangerous to let live.

“That man. That deliciously afflicted soul. You want his heart? I’ll rip it from his chest, and then I will feed it to you a piece at a ti-”

It’s enough. He doesn’t wait for the words to finish falling like an order of execution. The second he shifts closer Rhys is pulling the trigger. Three quick shots, fired into his chest, the blast bright and loud, echoing in his ears afterwards.

Black scatters away from the bullets, like firing into shadow.

It looks down at the steaming holes before his head lifts again, skull splitting open in that awful grin again. Before a clawed hand reaches out, and he feels something slam with violent force into his chest. His feet leave the ground, and then there’s the bright, violent pain of his back crashing into the wall behind him, head snapping against plaster before he’s falling again, body collapsing to the ground. Gun skidding across the floor, useless and beyond reach. The pain in his ribs jars him and it allows a breathless gasp to leave his lips.



[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

.

[div class=WarningLabel]P A R E N T A L ✟ A D V I S O R Y ✟ E X P L I C I T ✟ C O N T E N T[/div]

[class=WarningLabel] border: 2px solid black; padding: 5px; display: inline; [/class] [class name=WarningLabel state=hover] border-color: red; color: red; [/class]​

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Nightmare
BGM: This is the new shit
Part 3 of 5
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]

"Now, Now, Princess. That's no way to treat me."

His jaw clamps tighter, teeth grinding in his mouth. He doesn't want to look up. Doesn't want to see the mirage in front of him, the one he knows will turn his blood to ice. That voice alone caused his heart to stammer and not in the giddy, 'oh there is my crush' type way. He reminds himself once more that it isn't Nik standing before him, then he's glaring up at that feral grin and gleaming red eyes.

"Eat a fuckin' dick--"

There's a hand around his throat before he can even finish the sentence and he's being lifted back up against the wall. Nik's face flickers into a skull, a sort of exoskeleton peaking through flesh before it's his face again. Rhys watches as his tongue peaks out, running methodically across his bottom lip while his mouth traced into a grin that was all innuendo. The fingers around his throat increased their hold as the demon pressed his body against him. He could feel every ridge, every slope, of his body and if this weren't a dream he might have felt a bit differently about the position.

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Enjoy it even? Shit, you think about it all the time don't 'cha Rhysie?" A tongue licked up the side of his face and Rhys snarled, trying and failing to push the man away. "Try as you might, you can't deny it Princess." Teeth nipped at his ear, hot air brushing against the shell and he made a noise that caused Rhys' body to go ridged.

"Get. Away. From. Me." The look he gave him was something that he never would dream of giving the real Nik, it was a look of pure unadulterated hate. A look that promised death.

"So fucking demanding. What? You don't want to screw me now? Pity, that. Here I thought you were in love with me."

Rhys scowled, fingers desperately tearing at the hand slowly cutting off his air.

"Well....that's...fuckin'...presumptuous of...you...".

The demon chuckled, eerily mimicking that laugh he had grown so fond of over the last couple days. It leaned closer, hoisting his body higher and Rhys let out a choking noise as his legs dangled uselessly off the ground. The outer edges of his vision began to go black and his mind flashed red in panic.

"I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart, detective. Piece by delicious piece."

His voice.
Not his words.

"Go...t-to...hell..."

A rueful smile filled with teeth too sharp to be human. "Gladly, Rhysies-Pieces, but I'll kill you first. Then I'll pay a visit to the rest of the group, like a big 'ole fuckin' family reunion. I think I'll start with Alaska first, I'm almost positive she'd taste divine. And Pennysworth? Well, I have something spectacular planned out for her. It'll be a masterpiece, my finest work personified. You two seemed to have bonded rather well, it's a shame really."

He let out a strangled noise, face turning red from the beginnings of asphyxiation. Rhys shut his eyes, unable to fight back. He didn't have the heart to do it, even when he knew it wasn't him. It was like a flaw in his internal workings. A system error that wouldn't allow him to hurt someone that he cared about. The demon --Nik-- exhaled a laugh that caused goose-flesh to bubble across his arms.

"Tell me something Rhysie, while it's just us two having a quick chat." He paused to lean his face closer, ruby eyes glinting off some unknown light source. "How the fuck did you think this would turn out? Did you think it would be any different? Somewhere in your desperate little fucking mind, did you really think I wouldn't treat this as some sort of game? Look at me, Kitten, I want to make sure this goes through that thick skull of yours." Rhys was slammed back against the wall, hard enough to knock out whatever oxygen had been left in his lungs. "You're only good for a quick fuck, nothing more, haven't you learned that by now?"

His voice lowered an octave, humming a bit at the end of his question, watching in satisfaction as Rhys' body began to shake. "Everyone you've ever loved has left. You remember the day those men stabbed your Grandfather, don't you? Hard to forget that one, with all the fucking blood and those people just watching as he bled out on a dirty side street like some sort of dog. Poor little Rhys, subjected to violence at such a young age." Rhys glared down the bridge of his nose at the demon, wanting him to just shut up already. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear anything anymore. "Then Jack broke your heart, do you remember that? He left with some witch-bitch that was far more impressive than some rich brat who spent too much time in the Bronx."

Rhys clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the voice, the pounding of his heart in his head. The visage of a boy, twenty with green eyes that glistened with a mischief that always seemed to pull him in, stood just behind the demon in front of him. A choked sound left him, burning fury drumming in his veins. It wasn't fair to pull him into this. Rhys had made his peace with that long ago and now it was like a knife had plunged back into an ugly scar. Jack was grinning at him, a smile that once caused his heart to stutter only made his insides churn. He felt like he was going to hurl. Then he was gone, a puff of smoke and flame that stung his eyes and reeked of burning flesh.

"And Monica? Perfect wasn't she? A pretty little lie wrapped in bubble gum and sinful kisses. You knew what was happening and yet you chose to ignore it; put a blindfold over your eyes and hope that fixes the fucking problem. The changes you made to keep her happy were admirable, but what does it matter when she's fucking the neighbor while you're off playing the hero?"

Her face flickered into focus, far too close for his comfort. He felt nails rake lightly across the flesh of his cheek and he tilted his head away as best as he could, azure orbs glaring at the woman who he almost married. He had loved her. He had wanted their relationship to work out, but that obviously wasn't what she had in mind. His gaze followed her nude form as she danced around Nik, moving to the other side of him with a twirl that was somehow mocking and seductive all at the same time. He shut his eyes when Monica grabbed his face, leaning in as if to kiss him before bursting into a plume of smoke.

"It's really too bad she had to die the way she did. Choking on her own blood. Throat severed and body defiled. You wondered didn't you? If you had just come home when she asked, then she might have still been alive. Then it might have been your broken picture in the obituary that weekend, but I'll let you in on a little secret Rhysie, she wouldn't have even shed a tear. The money she would have inherited would have made it all worth it."

He had enough. Golden orbs snapped open, a snarl curling his lip like some kind of feral dog. His veins pulsed with power, an otherworldly blue glowed from the center of his palms and flowed up to the ink of his tattoos. "Ex-exorcizamus....te, omnis..... immundus spiritus--" The words spilled from his mouth, foreign and twisted coming from his own mouth, a momentary possession that he could not explain. The demon released him with a hiss, the visage of Nik flickered in and out once more. Rhys' ass hit the ground with a painful thump, gulping in air like it was the last time he might breathe it. Shadows melded around Nik, appearance morphing before his very eyes. He shrunk to a more average height, hair, eyes, nose, mouth, everything morphed into a completely new man. The shoulders broadened out more and he no longer had that lean frame. The guy before him looked like he worked out religiously.

"I expected more outta ya, Contiello."

Rhys hiccuped on his breath. Face ashen as he stared at the new image. The man's hands were stuffed into his pockets, brown eyes that had usually been so warm looked at him with nothing but disgust. There was a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, looking at if it might fall out and hit the floor at any moment.
"Lawson." The name was a strangled whisper, watching his best friend as blood began to pool across his throat and chest. Umber skin fell in ribbons, the muscles in his throat moving as blood gushed from a severed artery.

"You let them rip me apart. Why didn't you save me? You coulda stopped them, but you chose to run!"

"N-no! I, I--"

"Don't bullshit the bullshitter, kid! You did nothing as those vampires ripped into me. You watched. I freed you and you watched."

His chest ached. Golden eyes dimming to a muted azure as tears began to blur his vision. This wasn't right. He had to remember....had to remember. He couldn't remember what he had to remember. He gripped the stone in his pocket, a lifeline tethering him to reality, running his thumb across the edge of it. His shoulders shook with the grief, suddenly all he wanted to do was break down and give in.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

.

[div class=WarningLabel]P A R E N T A L ✟ A D V I S O R Y ✟ E X P L I C I T ✟ C O N T E N T[/div]

[class=WarningLabel] border: 2px solid black; padding: 5px; display: inline; [/class] [class name=WarningLabel state=hover] border-color: red; color: red; [/class]​

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Nightmare
BGM: Long Hard Road out of Hell
Part 4 of 5
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]

He had been sitting in that uncomfortable chair again. Too small, too rickety, and too hard to be considered good for the human buttocks in any capacity. The room felt like it was closing in around him and with his feet chained to the heavy oak table leg there was no way he could relax. A ceiling fan rocked somewhere above him not doing anything useful besides pushing the already sweltering humidity around the room. To his left, a chair creaked signifying that his lawyer had gotten up again. Probably to object to something. He didn't know. He didn't understand why the man was even trying. Murder was murder no matter the justifications. He stared at that same crack in the wood for what seemed like hours. There were voices around him; pulling him this way and that by clips of memories that he couldn't discern.

"Mr. Contiello, you are being charged with First Degree murder and assault with a deadly weapon. Do you understand the charges laid out against you?"

Silence. The rocking of the fan. A sneeze. Eyes still trained on the crack that he thought kind of looked like a piece of pizza.

"Mr. Contiello--"

A scream interrupted the judge's sentence. Then the door burst open. A wave of hysteria erupted around him but he was too far gone to care. No one could protect him from this, from what he had done. They would eat him alive in prison and if he was lucky? He'd be dead within a matter of days. He had already accepted this fate, the law would fail him now just as it had failed him then.

Not enough evidence.

Can't hold him for suspicious activity.

Just let it go.

Well, now the asshole was dead.
Rhys couldn't accept that a man like Styles would be allowed to walk this earth without any repercussions.
"Contiello!!
There was a sharp pain on his cheek. The nerves in his face stinging as crystal blue orbs flickered over towards the man who had struck him. "God fuckin' dammit, Rhys! Listen to me for one fuckin' second!" Lawson was screaming at him, panic painted across his face and fear glazing over his eyes. Rhys had never seen that expression on his face before. If he hadn't felt so numb inside maybe he would have reacted with a little more concern. Instead, he sat there mutely watching as the detective went about unlocking the cuffs that had chained him to the table.

He decided to look around then.

All he saw was blood.
And...and people getting....ripped apart.
Dozens of bodies lay like ghoulish mannequins, stacked on top of one another, the esophagus and arteries thrown about with out care and sticking out like corrugated rubber tubing. It looked as if a special effects team had worked over time for some horror movie set, but that smell...he had been to enough crime scenes to know it anywhere.
That smell could only come from recently slaughtered animals. In this case the animals were human and their corpses were still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on their waxy skin.
His gaze shifted towards Lawson as he was pulled up to his feet and a gun was pressed into the palm of his hand.
The world was on mute.
He watched the other's lips move, frantic, but couldn't make out the words. His brain had flat-lined and systems refused to reboot.

"...-out. You're my brother, no matter what you did I'll always--"

He never got to hear the rest of that sentence. Even in the memory this is where it had all ended. Something slammed into Lawson's side and the man was knocked down, a scream tearing from his throat as a woman ripped at his neck with inhuman teeth. Rhys froze. Shock. Appall. Disbelief. It all hit him at once and he couldn't raise his gun in time. There was another one that had started to rip into his best friend before he could even react. He took a step back, bile burning the back of his throat. Adrenaline surged through his veins, fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. He was dimly aware that he was crying, not wanting to hear, not wanting to see. He couldn't save him.

"You can't save anyone, Rhys. You might as well just lay down and die."
He didn't know where the voice came from and it didn't seem to matter because it was right wasn't it?
Lawson was already gone the moment he hit the floor, just choking on his own blood. It was like Monica all over again...this was...this was worse than Monica. He was right there, watching it happen and he didn't know what to do.

He was so angry. Angry at himself for freezing up, angry for not being able to say goodbye, angry that this bullshit was happening, angry that....angry that he couldn't just die. God had to shit on him one last time. A yell split from him, he wasn't even aware it happened. His finger squeezed the trigger, again and again and again and again. He shot those two things until there was nothing left of their faces. Then he shot them some more. Rhys staggered on his feet, legs giving out as he fell beside Lawson's body. His eyes stared upward, blank, unseeing, somehow unnerving in how....doll-like they were. The gun fell to his side, shaking hands reaching out to curl around the lapels of his jacket. Blood stained his skin, seeped in through the fabric of his clothes, but he didn't care. He couldn't find it within himself to give a shit if something started gnawing on him too.

The cry that came from him had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. He screamed until his throat felt raw. Then he went quiet, unable to yell any longer, just panting. Hot tears ran off his cheeks onto the body under him. His teeth ground together, azure eyes glaring up at the creatures that ventured forwards. Black eyes, grins, sharp blood-soaked teeth, a feral disposition that turned his veins to ice.

So this is where he was to die? At the hands of these....monsters? It wouldn't be a quick or painless death, but that wasn't something he deserved.
The righteous cry out, and the lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
There was a voice amidst the horror and the feeling of a hand that settled against his back. Reassurance. Warmth. In his minds eye there was a light, something that spoke to him on a level he couldn't comprehend and it promised him something....something that felt like redemption. Vengeance. Justice. He took that light into the center of his hand and watched it mold into something tangible. It pressed into the palms of his hands, seeping into his flesh and melding within his own essence.

This is a blessing, child. A tool to fight for those who can not, a light against the darkness.

There was something like fire that crawled under his skin. A retribution that swirled and manifested inside his very soul. Azure irises twisted into a brilliant gold, glowing in the dimness of the court room. His tattoos curved across his back, ivory and twisting with a pulsing light that shone from beneath his clothes. The monsters advanced, crimson dripping from their greedy mouths, clawed hands reaching out towards him prepared to rip into him just as they had ripped into everyone else.

That's when he stood, body puppeted, Lawson in his arms, head tilted as fury twisted his expression into something beyond recognition.

He took a breath. The floorboards cracked under them and the monsters recoiled, snapping their jaws at him in a mixture of confusion and blood-lust. That's when the fire spread. It started from his feet and bloomed outwards, brilliantly blue with a sweltering heat that he couldn't feel. Those things shrieked in pain as the whole building was engulfed. Rhys started walking towards the door, entrapped in the memory, only to watch as it all fizzled away. Turned to foam and scattered on supernatural winds. A vein ticked on the side of his head, the fury thick, pliable. Lawson disintegrated in his arms and Rhys let them dangle uselessly at his side. It had been too real and he almost forgot that it was something that had already happened. Just like with Monica's death this was nothing but a broken record on repeat. The scenery turned stark white, a blank slate, prepared to mold into another memory that would play on his emotions.

"Well, Gramps, wasn't that simply touching? I always enjoy the--"

Rhys' hand was around its throat, the tables now turned as he applied pressure to the demon's windpipe. James' eyes looked at him in panic, fingers clawing at the grip Rhys had on his throat, seconds away from crushing his wind pipe.
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[Hell0NHighWater]

.

[div class=WarningLabel]P A R E N T A L ✟ A D V I S O R Y ✟ E X P L I C I T ✟ C O N T E N T[/div]

[class=WarningLabel] border: 2px solid black; padding: 5px; display: inline; [/class] [class name=WarningLabel state=hover] border-color: red; color: red; [/class]​

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Nightmare
BGM: The Devil Beneath My Feet
Part 5 of 5
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He was going to kill it.

"R-Rhys!"

Burn it from the inside out and watch as it smoldered in the wake of holy fire. He was going to make sure that it was slow too, excruciating in the way that put the torturers of Hell to shame. He wondered if shadows bled? He hoped so, otherwise this wouldn't be as satisfying. Styles would be proud of him --it was a perverse train of thought-- because he was going to apply every element of those bloodied portraits. Each cut, each nail, each separation of organs, he would make this demon suffer and smile as it screamed. Fires of fury and hatred were smoldering in the depths of narrowed eyes as he weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to him for exacting justice.

The demon morphed again, changing into Reverie then Adisa, Luci, Stella, Penny, Grigs, one person after the other and his crushing grip on it's throat refused to let up. The hellion began to struggle further, as if only now realizing that the blessed was more than capable of purging him from the earth. Alaska let out a strangled yelp, reaching her hand towards his face as if to soothe him but even that illusion did nothing to calm the waves of rage that rolled off of him. He was done being jerked around. Done with having all these memories, these skeletons in his closet, flaunted in front of him.

This demon would die and so help him, he would give into his corruption in a heartbeat if he thought that would make it more satisfying.
Angels weren't exactly the demur creatures humans thought of them to be.

In the last act of desperation, Leraje changed into Nik and the grip Rhys had on his throat relaxed just enough to let the abomination breathe. He was looking into sapphire irises glazed over with fear. That exoskeleton flickered under his skin once more, shadowing and illuminating his face like a strobe light beneath flesh. Smoldering, cyan fire licked at their feet like a hungry lion with a saucer of milk, crackling, dangerous, gentle at first, fire flickered, flared, leapt, spat, a shower of sparks like a fountain, plumes of black grey smoke, wound itself around the two like a great hungry serpent, devoured the oxygen around them, and then it raged, became an inferno, a blazing circular wall that enclosed them in a small space. There would be no escaping this time. No vanishing tricks.

"Rhys...Princess--
"Cut the shit before I rip your fuckin' tongue out."
"No, please...it's me. I swear, it's me."

There was a broken quality to his words that were too human, too frightened, too soft. His fingers went lax, uncertainty making him doubt what he knew for half a second. The anger in his features softened, confusion settling in because now he wasn't sure. The gold that blazed in his gaze faded back to blue as he studied the blond locked in his grasp.

"It's okay, Rhys, you can let go."

Could he? Had it even been Nik a moment before? Wasn't it someone else? His mind was having trouble catching up, hazy with the detail of the last couple seconds and unable to understand why. Nik's hand slipped across his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone as if to say he was who he said. There was enough indecision inside him to allow his grip to fall away completely. The visage wavered for a moment, grin splitting onto it's face before it disappeared into a whirl of inky shadow.

A scowl formed across his lips, hand dropping to his side as he turned in a slow circle. There was a door beyond the wall of flame, beckoning him to head through it. But he stayed where he was at, azure orbs drifting across the white room. He wasn't leaving, not until he had killed this dumbass demon. It felt like he was just getting tricked time and time again and he swore to the God he didn't believe in that he would kill the next asshole it appeared to be. He allowed his thoughts to wander towards the group he had come here with, hoping that they hadn't all been subjected to this. It would have been a much better comfort to know he was the only one trapped here.

Something told him that that was a very unlikely scenario.
If this piece of shadow shit thought it was fun to wiggle around in his brain, then he'd bet money (not that it was worth anything at this point) that it enjoyed doing this to all of them. A muscle in his jaw lept, gaze narrowing on a random section of ivory. If any of them were harmed, then holy fire was definitely the last of this so-called Marquis' worries. He took a step out of the ring of fire, not even bothering to watch as it died out behind him.

"Running away with your tail between your legs already!? The fun hasn't even started, yet!"

Silence.

It was unnerving, irritating even. His boots made soft tapping sounds across the blinding white space, signifying that there was a floor he couldn't see. It was like being trapped in a padded cell with all that white, only the exit was provided for him and he was seemingly free to leave. He didn't know where it led, but he held an assumption that it wasn't to where he really wanted to be. He wasn't going to trust anything here, not until he was sure that he was out of this...nightmare. His hands balled into fists, the rage that coursed through his body ignited the tattoos on his back and his nerves seemed to hum in awareness. Eyes flaked gold, the corruption in his soul made his skin warm and the stench the demon left in it's wake made him want to throw up.

"In case you've forgotten, darling, the fun generally begins when you start running. The King does not flee from pawns."

It was a feminine voice that purred in his ear this time, coy and sickeningly sweet. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, but he knew what she was now. Rhys could see that horrifying abomination wearing Monica's skin like some sort of costume. He didn't turn around, a smile splitting across his lips as he looked off towards the door. "Is that so?" He saw movement behind the red tinted glass, watched as it creaked open to reveal the faces of far too many worried and pissed off people. Rhys turned on his heel, slipping a hand into his pocket and moving his thumb across the stone.
The demon let go of it's display, standing there in his full hideous glory, teeth grinding in a hiss as the situation really began to settle in.

"Check mate, bitch."

The demon snarled at him, a hiss of spittle and something that resembled blood leaking from it's teeth.

Out of the door emerged the rest of the group, better late than never he supposed. Some of them looked a little worse for wear, but at least they were alive. Rhys didn't allow his gaze to linger too long, reminding himself that the threat before them was a far more pressing matter.

The demon tilted it's head to the side. "I am a Marquis of Hell! You are all nothing but the--"
Rhys' fist connected with the side of it's face, shadow blooming away from the skull as the abomination went skidding backwards.

"You talk too much, Princess." Rhys huffed, allowing the flames to lick at the edges of his fingers and spread across his arms. Leraje launched himself towards him and Rhys stepped to the side, prepared to strike him again when the demon turned. Rhys went flying back, hitting a wall and sinking to the floor. He saw stars for a moment, the back of his head throbbing from the impact.
A smirk craved onto his face as the rest of the group jumped into action. He pulled himself up to his feet and smiled, knowing that this nightmare would be ending soon.
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[BasiliskVeranda]

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[div class=whut]
[div class=speaksup]HOUSE OF HORRORS[/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]




𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Mansion from Hell.....not really
OOC — nik is ANGRY
INTERACTING WITH: Beating Leraje down and kicking him in the non-existent (?) dick.
BGM — NIN - YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE? [/div]






[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
Nik left Reverie's grasp and saw a dull, blue flickering light creeping up the side of the hallway, almost like ink in the veins, blue-blood and numbing. Nik's brows narrowed, and he pressed against it. Pressed hard, like pushing through a wall made of foam caulking and insulation, the pink bits getting under your skin to itch down to your barest bones. It flaked in particles all over his hands, and it burned.

He had been able to help Reverie, so he thought he could do one more act. One more push. One more breakthrough. One more step towards redemption. Because what Penny had seen was in him, it was real, and raw, and writhing. Every step he'd take going forward should be to help those at his side. He'd give his heart, soul, and entrails to make sure what he was never befell them in devastation. Even if he could only do a little, something was better than nothing.

He pushed forward, breaking through the membrane, but was left as a shade. A shadow, or maybe a ghoul, watching...movies of the mind. This felt too private, he thought, as he spindled around like a ghost, suppressed by what felt like a fine film, foamed, sticky, and cloying. Gossamer, he touched it, unable to break through.

Nik saw Rhys' interaction with...he guessed a close friend. Very close, from the looks of it, but he wasn't able to say a damned thing. He spoke but no words came out, they died in the air, like the most deafening of silence. Again, locked out by that bastard. Why him, why now? Why had he been able to break through and help Reverie, but not this one? Not Alaska? Not Kayden? No one else?

Nik grimaced, and stepped forward, peeling through the sinew of the space with an audible tear. It was like being inside something's transparent guts. Every step he made sunk in, like walking on unseen skin. Everything glassy, as though he were staring through cling-wrap. He could peel layers back, and find himself still stuck beneath it all, hands sticky with what looked like flaked fat.

That demon wanted him to watch.

To watch the scenes of a murder. To watch the retribution enacted, the bullet wounds, the murderer. To watch as this thing flipped faces, wearing other skins to try and trick, and fool, and deceive. To watch Lawson destroyed by hungry maws. To watch Rhys propel with holy glory, as if a puppet made animate. To see this thing wear his own face—Nik's face—and use his throat and his voice to speak words to trick their...fearless...no. Human, flawed, justified, harrowed, and tormented...leader.

He shouldn't have been able to witness this. None of them should have. But this was what this shitfuck wanted...for them to see the inner turmoil of their companions, on some sick display, a gallery of horrors. Each nightmare framed in opulence. Perfect desecration. What more of a defilement was there than to have your mind penetrated and ripped in half by some bastard demon's relentless pillaging?

It wanted them to see. To learn all the secrets, to glean the fat from the meat and choke on it. He surely had choked on it. And he would've gone all the way, too. Let that thing keep him, change him, like a fly on a sill. Coated in his own guts until he metamorphosed in the gored brilliance that was his inner evil. Or maybe it would've just supped on his soul like a ripened persimmon, rotten but delicious.

Except this thing had fucked up, in more ways than one. As Rhys grew stronger, Nik grew angrier. Angry that it had hurt them all so much. Angry that it had made Alaska shake, fingers curled on herself. Angry it had made Reverie suffer to feel what was a deafeningly putrid memory, to feel those things again, to witness and to feel all of that. Each one, writhing in agony, because this thing was a sadist.

But two could play at that game, and Nik's anger thrummed with each step, as he ripped at the clear barriers, scraping what felt like skin, thick wetness on his hands, he would get through.

Except he couldn't, only seeing the gold of the other man's eyes as his anger, too boiled. And then a door opened to let the others through, and he stumbled forward. Formless, made form. No longer stuck, but his hands coated in clear gunk.

"I am a Marquis of Hell! You are all nothing but the--" Rhys threw a punch at this sick creature's face and Nik's grin cut to a razor's edge as he heard the thwack of bone to bone.

"You talk too much, Princess." Flames licked his arms. Nik felt around for his daggers on his belt, and found them there, the sunglasses, the cigarettes, the lighter, a necklace. Daggers in hand, he swept like a jagged smear around the brawl, flanking it. If it had wanted him to be a force of destruction and sin, then he'd do just that, be the thing it bade him be with petals jammed down his throat, choking on it all.

Except, none of his companions would be his victims. This pustule made flesh would be, however.

Then the demon threw Rhys back against a wall. Nik cast one glance back, taking in his smile, then ripped through the air like a human bullet.

A wall of all-consuming darkness fled from the shadows on the ground, and crept up his arms, then in a blink, they burst at the demon, slamming at him in lightning-fast slices. Whipping at him hard enough that the shadows held weight, splitting the air like a cacophony of rage. Thwacks resounded, a flurry, a deluge, a nigh inescapable wrath. And it was wrath, to be specific.

Here he'd thought he'd been a demon of lust, but apparently Nik was the wrathful type, it ebbed off of him in waves as his smile grew sickened like the creature, but perhaps, maybe even worse.

Rage-filled, unbridled, sadistic wrath. Nik, the masochist, had turned the other way, the left-hand path. The right-hand path would have to wait, until after he exacted vengeance. He wasn't sure it'd be easy to talk him down after this, but it would get its just desserts.

Then a sickening slurry of gargled words poured out, as one shadow wrapped itself around Leraje's throat, and squeezed. The demon's eyes flashed in disbelief.

Where was the harrowed man, a child in his skin, crying out pitifully? Where was the broken thing, the one that had accepted the fruit of his sin, in all its graceful floral curves and deep sinew? Where was the battered, the broken?

Who...was this?

"This is nice, isn't it?" Nik echoed the creature's word back at him, the syllables lapping through the air as they had against the shell of his own ear.

In his nightmare, this sadistic fuck had purred, and now Nik was spitting it all back. The shadow tightened and the demon writhed, enraged.

Then as the shadows latched Leraje to the ground and hazed his vision in a plume of blackened smoke, Nik struck out forward and slashed the air with his knives. The strike didn't connect, and the creature apparated away, rubbing its tender neck. A smile blossomed on its face, but Nik's smile grew even more twisted. He wanted its guts.

He wanted its heart.

He wanted its skin, off its body, made into a canvas and pinned on a frame of its bones. Nailed down by its teeth.

His affliction pooled over his arms, coming from the mark in the center of his chest, bubbling over the tattoos that pocked his skin, and turned that same skin into blackness. Pitch black, like charcoal, like night, like death.

He raised his hand into the air and swept up the demon. Lifting Leraje higher and higher, the affliction blazing through Nik's system, stronger than before, but not as wild as it had been, and he slammed it down on the ground with a sickening thwack. He shot the affliction down through his shoulder, muscles flexing and skin feeling like it was going to burst open like a sun-rotten, spoiled organ, and shot out pain inducement, his entire arm going numb. As he raked this thing, pitching through its skull. The demon peeled out a guttural scream.

Impossible. Not this man, not this human, not this insect.

"Doesn't feel very good, does it, you fucking piece of shit!?"

But with each passing moment, the affliction quickened in haste, spreading, perhaps too far. Bristling at the edge, exactly what this beast had wanted. What hell had wanted. Nik was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. Either way his rage needed an outlet, and the violence quickened his heart and sped through his body like the most perfect of drugs.

"Is that all you have, you inse—" Nik thrummed through the air on fleet feet and connected his strong knee, femur in place with Leraje's crotch. If he had balls, he'd be down. If he didn't have balls, he'd still be down. The sound was sickening, Nik angled up hard enough to hit the fucking leg bone.

"Here. Be a good slut, open up," yelled Nik as he punched the demon straight in the mouth. It flung him backwards after that with unseen power. From its mouth came broken bits, spitting blood to the floor in a hacked spray, eyes boring red like the flowers on Nik's hips.

Shades of nightmarish rage over this insect flashed over its face—if one could call it that—who had dared land hits on this Marquis of Hell. It lashed at him in shadow, and wielded to grasp his neck, but the blond apparated into darkness. The affliction rushing, too fast, too fierce, too bright. Like a white-hot bolt of pure annihilation.

"Get fucked," he said as he slid back from the shadow, on the balls of his feet, hand on the ground, a blade held in his other hand, behind his back.

"Careful, maggot. I can smell it on you," the demon said. Nik's breathing was labored, he couldn't go any further, or it'd be too far. And he wouldn't come back. He felt a ghostly, cold hand pull at his red coat to drag him away. Diana, chilling his bones with her unearthly touch, pulling him to the far wall where Rhys had prior been flung.

Stay...stop. Stop. Any more, and he wouldn't be able to keep control. He'd devolve into spinning like a top, and wrecking...everyone.

Anger bore up his spine and he clenched his fists, but listened to his little ghost, his alarm system, his errant spirit, his guide. She clung to his arm, and was seen, shimmering, smoked and opalescent. She had form enough to keep him still as he tried to run forward, form enough to hold him back, strong, form enough for the eyes of his companions to witness her, as she kept him still.

And tried her very best to keep him from trespassing beyond the boundaries of the human soul.

This little natural colored ghost, in mica shine. Deep crimson lips, rolling brown curls, indigo dress, a fire in her eyes. For the pain this thing had caused him, solely focused on protecting him. Her photo in his back pocket, the tether that kept her here. Nik tried to jut forward but she locked him in place.

"Let me go, Di! Get the fuck off me—"
"Ah...Ah!" she warbled out, her only utterances, a resounding 'no'.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

House of horror

​

Location: Right outside Rhys' nightmare
mentions: BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater

Darius' nightmare came next, Luiza's death had really affected the young man and it was apparent. His tears, the pain, the horror that he saw in there were all exhausting to watch. Alaska wanted to do something, to shout for him to wake up, to open the door and go in. Grigori's voice came leading him through the nightmare, as if even in his worst nightmares, he still had his father to rely on. Alaska was glad he had that kind of support. He turned the knob of his door, and stepped out, a stream of tears running down his cheeks. Alaska whispered that she was sorry for whay he'd seen and squeezed the boy's arm before moving into the next nightmare, anger boiling in her heart at the demon who was fucking with their minds.

The white room, the frustration, and the glass.. It seemed like Ezra was left to himself... and his tormentors.
The amount of hate; pain and worthlessness was overwhelming, Alaska hugged herself watching. He was restrained, almost allowing all of this to happen, as if giving them power over him by doing nothing....It reminded her with her encounter with the Marquis. But no..... Ezra stood up, and fought back, killing his tormentors one by one, he gave them no where to escape to. His affliction taking hold of him. It was a frightening sight, Alaska's eyes traveled to Nik, both of them were afflicted, but Nik didn't use his powers like Ezra did. Nik seemed to suppress them, he wouldn't let them take control of his soul.....Ezra enjoyed every second. When he stepped out of the door, Alaska could detect the look of victory in his eyes, she was glad he was ok, he was one of them, she reminded herself.....he was one of them.

Reverie's nightmare started as a memory, the lanes, the mansion, the maids, the blue flower, the flashbacks...and her mom.
Alaska had this feeling in her stomach, all this calmness before the storm. Reverie's father....the meeting....her mother's anniversary. Alaska's vision blurred, her heart racing fast as she watched the nightmare commence, the magic, the alchemy, her father's cruelty, Reverie wasn't snapping out of it! She was going to get herself killed! '' DO SOMETHING'' She shouted at nobody in particular, putting both hands on the glass window. That's when Nik stepped in..telling her that it was a nightmare, that she had to fight it.... The little girl....Anielica... All of this was a blur, then they were out. Safe....both of them.Alaska sighed with relief, her heart still audible in her ears. She wanted to walk up and throw her arms around the witch hugging her tight, but respected the distance, and shot her a kind smile instead.

Rhy's nightmare was hard to watch, especially with Nik rushing through the door before anyone stopped him, Rhys was a very private person, and the things Alaska felt guilty for the things she watched through his window. Watching through the painful torments he made the detective go through sent Alaska rushing in after Nik, she didn't care anymore if he'd be mad at the things she saw, the only thought that played in her mind was to get him alive.

His best friend, his fiances' death, the realization she cheated, the murder,the trial, his grandfather's death. It seemed like the whole man's life came crumbling down piece after piece....and then came the Marquis....disguised as Nik. then as his ex fiance.....The creepy bastard had just fucked up. ''Checkmate Bitch'' Rhys's voice came daring as the others rushed in to help, Alaska didn't feel like a ghost anymore, she felt her bow hanging on her shoulder and grasped for it. Rhys had sent flames flying towards the little fucker, Nik started attacking him, with all the fury and all the darkness hell has granted him. The Marquis spit back insults on how he was stronger, Nik was now on the ground, fighting a burnette ghost. Alaska's bow was ready in her hands, a look, void of any emotions looking him straight in the eye '' Hey asshole!'' She was trying to divert his attention from the quasi devil ''That's for my family you dipshit'' the holly water dipped double arrow flew away piercing through the demon's shoulders with utmost precision, burning through them, the demon hissed, taking a few steps back. The others joined in.

 

[BELIAL.]

penelope vale & woofus

​

Location

End Nightmare/Leraje Fight

Interaction

Leraje

Music/Mood

You don't own me

OOC

THE END

HOUSE OF HORRORS

She was done. Beyond done with all of this. The fighting, the nightmares and the heartache. Things got worse seeing Rhys and Nik go for the attack on Leraje. Her heart leapt in her chest when she saw a familiar face, eerily transparent, lunge and tackle Nik. “D-Diana!?” Penny choked out, edging forward slightly. In a way, she was glad that this secondary ghost of their past had returned to stop Nik from going full darkness. First it had been Henry, in his own nightmare, and now it was Diana… somehow. Penny’s attention was drawn to Alaska, shooting an arrow at Leraje and going in for the kill.

Time stopped at that moment, and things ticked together. Penny was tired of all of this and it left a resounding ache deep in her bones. She wanted this to end now, and she knew that being blessed, this was her role. It felt right, in a way, that the last blow went to Penny. The rage within her had kindled the slow-burning fire within as each nightmare had progressed. Complete strangers, now a bit closer, subjected to abject tortures. They’d all suffered plenty long, and Penny wanted her final say to the pitiful demon that had put them all through it.

She strode forward, a figure of light, and gazed lazily at the demon. Bright flames lapped at her irises, threatening to break the mask of calm and control that she wore. Her mouth was twisted into a disgusted frown, and she dissected the creature before her eyes. She held out a hand to the others, palm forward. I’ve got this.

“You’ve taunted enough people. Your reign of terror ends here, and it ends with me. Just how it began.” Penny snarled, clenching her fists at her sides. She stared down the haughty demon, watching the ragged breaths and low laughter emanate from the creature. Penny shook her head, rearing back a fist. She delivered the blow, watching blackened blood splatter the ground next to the demon. She had no mercy in her eyes, and she was glad that no one was looking her in the eye right now. Her barriers had fallen, and all of her circumvented rage toward the unfairness of being blessed and the whole apocalypse was being projected in her outward abhorrence of the demon, and its actions.

She delivered a resounding kick, sweeping the demon off his feet. He clattered to the ground, laying uncomfortably on the arrow in his shoulder. A roar. Penny shook her head, spitting on the ground. She walked up to him, boot pressing against the demon’s chin.

“You don’t own me, or any of us.” She kicked the demon in the face, again and again. She knelt next to him, snarling, and cocked her head downward to be at eye level with the demon. Penny delivered a few more punches, watching the demon’s head snap further and further in the other direction as her fist collided with its face. The grinding of bone and the snapping of Leraje’s nose. The blinding numbness of pain in Penny’s fist. She could hardly care and could only picture how much hurt he had put the others through. Reverie, Rhys… Nik; among the others. Another wave of anger ricocheted through Penny’s core, and she twisted the arrow in Leraje tightly, pulling the arrow out. The demon roared in pain, convulsing. She released it, blood splattering onto the ground next to them and continued to glare deeply into the demon’s eyes.

Penny pressed her hand roughly against the bloodied head, squeezing her fingers against Leraje’s skull. She stared him down, locking eyes. “I see you, Leraje. Do you know what I see in your eyes?” She felt disconnected in a way, with the words that were coming from her mouth. Was it truly her anger? Or something else that was contorting her language and her emotions to something more righteous than Penny usually was?

“I see nothing.” She whispered, and then shut her eyes and let the energy spill from her arm and into her hand, igniting the inside of Leraje’s skull. A holy light blasted from the demon’s orifices, but Penny wasn’t looking. She was staring up, and up into the nothing. A tickle descended her spine, and she shivered. The tingling went back up her spine, and down her arms. She focused all her energy into this cleansing, crushing fire. She trapped the flames within it, as if releasing it would spark a bonfire on the ground before them.

When a Marquis of Hell died, it did not simply roast like a regular demon or a possessed person. Penny opened her eyes to see the demon’s skull begin to cave in, melting like a fountain of chocolate into itself. The fire lapped at the liquid flesh, disintegrating the eyes into a puddle. The flames traveled down the body, collapsing into itself. Organs and skin alike melted and bubbled, smoke rising. She opened her eyes and leapt backward, scrambling to her feet. Her eyes burned in the smoke, and a rising odor of brimstone and sulfur permeated her nostrils.

But Penny did not turn away. She covered her nose and mouth but watched through falling tears and stinging eyes as the dead thing remained very, very dead.

At the end of this viciously long process of erasure from eternity and damnation, Penny gulped and turned, taking in any fresh(er) air that she could. She shut her eyes, still feeling the tingling in her skin and the soreness in her fist. She clenched her hand, biting back the anger that had once risen farther than it had been in a long time. She turned on her heel, walking briskly back to the group.

“Let’s go,” she murmured. “I think I see the final door.” She remained quiet, and in a way… ashamed of how upset she had gotten and how visibly cruel she had been to the creature. At the same time, she was only ashamed because people had watched. In her heart, however, she knew that a being of such evil deserved that sort of end. A voice in the back of her mind told Penny that he deserved every sort of cruelty and suffering that came upon him. She felt no guilt, and she put that memory in her mind to never forget.

Penny brushed passed the others, eyes boring holes into the golden door at the end.

 

[Rui]

☾Stella Luna☽

Location: 86 Montrose Rd, Colt’s Neck, New Jersey
•
The Nightmare Ended...But Isn’t Reality Just An Elongated Nightmare?
•
Mentions: Chise_Robin_ Hell0NHighWater
Music: Animal I Have Become - 3 Days Grace
OOC: Insanity >> NSFW language hehe
~~~~


Stella’s hands twitched at her sides. When Alaska touched her, she flinched, like an abused child seeing their parent, a beaten dog warily sniffing a strangers hand.

Her vibrantly colored eyes had drained of color, now only silver, faint; a shell of the former witch she had been.

Her fingers twitched again, clenching and unclenching into her palms. She stood, shakily at first, and moved forward in silence, her head lowered. She seemed to know where she was going.
Finally, she found the aura she sought, or so it seemed.

Him.

Slowly, her arm lifted, trembling seemingly with weakness. Like a viper striking, the hand suddenly lunged forwards, nails digging into his neck, drawing blood. Stella was on top of him in moments, choking the man, bashing his head against the wood floor like an alligator attempting to snap the neck of its prey with a death roll. Stella thrashed, the strength of the tiny witch surprising, but the surprise at the immense rage behind her actions surpassing that. Stella screamed, but her voice wasn’t hers alone; it was like a chorus of agonized wails pouring from her lips. Like a thousand screams from the pits of hell.

It was horrifying.

Inhuman.

Monstrous.

Stella’s eyes wept blood, dripping onto the poor victim’s face, as he continued to be strangled.

“CHRISTIAAAAAAN I’LL FUCKING KILL YOUUUUUU!”

It became apparent this wasn’t a momentary action, or a break.
Stella intended to kill Rhys.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: House of Horrors
BGM: Shadow Moses
Mentions: The whole merry band of misfits
Interactions: Wtf Stella? Rui | Pen BELIAL.
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
“D-Diana!?”

Penny's voice pulled his attention from the shadowed asshole he was glaring at long enough to notice the wavering form shimmering beside Nik. She was translucent almost, barely visible, but the sight of her was otherworldly. A mirage that shouldn't exist in this world. His body was trembling, muscles taunt with exhaustion and straining against the need to collapse. He didn't know how long he had been trapped here, subjected to the torment of his own mind, but it felt like centuries. The inked designs in his back itched, burned almost, like a rash that only seemed to spread across the entirety of his back. The sensation was uncomfortable, but he ignored it in favor of watching Penny smite that bastard.

Good.

Nothing that evil should be allowed to roam freely across the earth. He willed himself towards the door, more aware of the aches that had settled into his very bones now that Leraje was nothing more than dust. Azure orbs moved to Penny, watching the rigidness to her spine as she strode towards the appearance of the last door. Long legs caught up to her in a matter of moments and he placed a hand on her shoulder, reassuring, a quiet kind of support that he hoped carried not only gratitude but the silent guarantee that there had been no other option. It had to die. He was glad it was her who had obliterated the monster, at least....it felt fitting in some weird way. "You did the right thing." He paused for a moment, a slight smile stretching across his face as he looked down at her. "Holy fire is a good look on you."

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before pushing the set of doors open, welcoming the blinding light that hit him.

Illusions fell away.
Dematerializing around them.

His head felt like someone had smashed a ton of bricks into it, over and over again, but he was so glad to be out. Or so he thought.
There was pressure around his neck, the feeling of fingers wrapping around already bruised flesh that caused his eyes to fly open.
They had killed it didn't they!? It couldn't have been another trick, another illusion cast just to plague him some more. Penny had felt real when he touched her shoulder, the look on Alaska's face had been real...Nik....he, he had been real hadn't he?
Rhys gargled on air, vision hazy as his pupils struggled to adjust to the dim light. He could barely make out the rumbling of the prison around them, the stench of rotting corpses, the shuddering of a trap caving in on itself. There really wasn't time for them to be here any longer if this was reality anyway.
The grip tightened and panic surged.
His hands shook against the vice like grip around his windpipe, muscles too strained to push back against another attack, his mind desperately trying to make out what was going on.
He couldn't reach his pocket, he couldn't assure himself that he wasn't just dreaming, he was stuck, he didn't understand...
The edges of his vision began to turn black and that's when he felt the heat curl under his ribs, pulsing in response to the consternation that consumed him.

White light shimmered up his veins, consuming his entire body and painting the wings on his back ivory. Azure irises bled to gold and pale blue fire licked under his hands, burning the flesh of the person above him, but they didn't let go. He was dimly aware of a wetness that dripped onto his face, something coppery that caused his stomach to churn. That's when he noticed the white hair, but it was too late the power he had been building expelled forth, flinging the witch off him in a burst of heat and divine energy. The world slowed and it was like he had no control of his body. One second he was laying down, the next he was on his feet pinning the witch against the wall with a hiss that wasn't human in the slightest. There was a fluctuation of light from the fire behind him that cast the shadow of wings on the opposite wall.

"Calm yourself, little witch, before I burn the rest of you and leave you smoldering amongst the carnage."
The golden tint to his eyes receded to a blazing cobalt, unearthly still, but not nearly as threatening in their observance of her. He set her feet back on the floor, realizing that he had lifted her in the process of restraining her. Rhys leaned forward, noting the way that her eyes didn't follow his movements. He might have been concerned if she didn't just try to murder him.

"Stella Luna."

His voice was softer, still firm in the command but held more of his own cadence yet melded with the guttural tones that had left him previously. His head tilted to the side --almost bird like in appearance-- as he studied her in such a clinical way that there was no form of emotion behind it. "It would be in your best interest to remain calm. The traumas you've endured are not of this world. Distinguish it from the reality of now, and clam the fuck down."

She continued to struggle and his grip tightened, expression cast in a motionless void almost as if carved from pure marble. There was another rippling of light under his veins, a warning that the blinded witch could not heed as she continued to try and claw at him. He didn't flinch as nails dug into his forearms and he only squeezed her throat harder all too aware of how little pressure it would take to snap her neck. Gaze narrowed, he listened to her choked sounds without any real feeling. She had tried to kill him. There would be no mercy for those who stood in his way.
The thoughts merged with his own until Rhys was unable to discern his own panic from the alien impassiveness that took hold of him.
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[CupAndCough]

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GRIGORI

DARIUS

VELSKA

[/div][/div][div class=statusText]Location:
Grigori //
Darius //
Velska //

Companions:
Grigori | Father/Leader |
Darius | Son |
Velska | Daughter |

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 D E X 」
◈◈◈◈◈
「 C O N 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 I N T 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

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[/div][/div][div class=text][div class=postscroll]
[div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div]
[Before The Nightmares]


Grigori rarely dreamed. If at all, perhaps the haunting of memories beyond the veil of time claimed his waking moments, and the solace of dreams..

The man who sought himself Humanity’s liberator, compelled to watch his son fall asleep.Like a great beast presiding over the rest of his pride, he felt no greater safety in knowing his kin slept soundly. Velska’s protested before they entered that she would sleep in the humvee, much to her father’s dismay. However a locked, armor plated, and war-built vehicle was much more a defensive point than some Mansion. Of which the whiff of death lingered like gore-soaked rags.


However by some compulsion he felt drained. Tired. Empty…

With a ache in his mind he passed out, fighting against his loss of consciousness into the dark pull of sleep.



[Ashmedai Arrives]


Blackness. Grigori dreamt of nothing. But deep within his mind a primal sense of alert drove him. Beyond the realm of sleep, of Leraje’s influence...a much greater darkness. A wallowing pit, belonging to the most festering rings of hell, dug into his chest. Like a rotting pain of agony and human madness. These sensations, the gnawing void and the severe maulings of his soul, they were familiar. Born from cloying memories of old, but these were not dead things. These were gehenna-fires of reality and the now.

What drew such intense emotions beyond his human ken? As if visions compounded him with horrid lacerations of mere presence, he snarled in pain. Eyes tightening. Teeth clenched. Sinew within the tightly held flesh aches and wailed upon his nerves. What manner of hell was this? As he felt the cage of darkness lift, eyelids parsing open like great gates, protecting him against his desire to know, bore witness to the true reality of the room…

Gore and corpses abound, and his son soundly sleeping no longer. Assailed by nightmares and terrors. Tossing and turning. Grigori snarled as he saw his son weep. Rage unbearable. Fear insatiable. Sadness unending. Grigori’s body? Immobile. And from footsteps trumpeted forth agony. Visions blurring. The moisture of eyes felt as if they boiled in damnation pyres.

Through faded vision he saw it. True hellspawn. With great rage he snarled unintelligible curses and profane old-speak towards Ashmedai.


Hate.
Hate.
Hate.


Nothing thing but unbridled hate. True sensory destruction rampaged upon him. He endured a lifetime’s worth of agony, raising his arm to the female demon...his fingers attempting to gouge out her heart. She laughed at him. Taunting him with a simple puff of air from her wretched lungs. He could feel his sanity slipping amongst his anger and primal ensarings.
The demon lord watched the animal before her writhe in the most inelegant, snarling, and appetizing rage. Taking advantage of his blurry sight, his eyes unable to comprehend her host-form, she taunted him with horrid laughters.

His arm, immobile in the air and once attempting to grasp towards her, became a guide for her. Slicing his skin, trailing a demonic trace leading down to his face. She appeared to be a crawling beast. His skin searing hot with demonic forces. As she came to his face, her voice became clear. Whispering in his ear…


“Tell me Prophet, what is it that you see?”, the venom curdled his blazing blood. Her voice came to him in the utmost clarities. “Visions of deaths of those around you? The murder of the ones you call your 'kin'? Can you see how they will suffer? The fire and brimstone that will reign down on this world when the final judgement begins? It's curious, I think, how such a gift befalls you and yet you cannot peer into your own fate. A waste of talent if you ask me.”
His body began to convulse. A vision. She had stole his mind and his used her perversions upon his “gift”. As she left, the horrors of the future. And a glimpse. A horrid glimpse.


A fraction of her true form….no vision compared to the sight of that...thing. The embodiment of disdain and the rightfully wretched. In the wash of visions he saw futures that soon will come to pass. Cages and chains. Marauders and raiders. And skies raining down black asphalt like snow…

He looked to Darius, his form ebbing through visions of hellscapes…
“Son..Darius!” he cried to him, “I love you my son!” . Watching his son writhe around fearfully. Unable to help him, it filled with with enough fear in his lifetime.

[Awakening]


Grigori awoke to find the dreamers still asleep, but holds releasing. The corpse-laden mansion proved no horrible sight than the hours of visions that plagued him. He reached for his son..holding his his back, leaning him upon his knee--but as he reached for him with his right arm...a festering pain seeped black blood and haze.

Ashmedai's gift to him.

His arm pulsed. Nerves near completely shutdown..but as the dreamers awoke a new scenario came about. Stella rushed Rhys. Snarling profanities towards the ex-detective. Whatever became of them in that state clearly turned them mad.

However as Darius awoke, Grigori shifted his gaze. An embrace. Darius hugged his father, and as did he. The embrace was short lived as the strangulation became a show of true colors. Brilliant and divine light became a become for their attention. The blessed’s angel had come to play.

Grigori and Darius nodded, very little needed to be said as Grigori rushed towards the scene. His blacked scar resonating with the brilliance of the divine. With a mighty palm Grigori sent towards the solar plexus of the little witch. And with arm of black, he grabbed at Rhys and screamed towards him.
“Contiello! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE YOUR HUMANITY TO A WINGED PARASITE!” . Grigori’s scar boom with waves and tendrils of black in response to the angel’s influence...as if there was familiarity. With the “gift” lent to him for the fleeting moment, the prophet could see a glimmer of nigh-infinity and ken-less comprehension that angels truly were.

It was a great and terrifying presence, even if it was the equivalent of miniscule fraction of the divine’s form.

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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]


𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Old Hampton inn
OOC — hell mom told me to relocate us~
INTERACTING WITH: Nobody right now, I am super busy today so idk if I'll have time to reply till tmrw afternoon. Let's make this fun to cut out some dire. Ezra you'll be into this song, the JoJo ending ;P
BGM — THE BANGLES - WALK LIKE AN EGYPTIAN[/div]




[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
Nik watched on as Alaska delivered her blows, she moved like a torrent of water. That arrow was a deafening blast. Fluid movements, trained movements, her retribution was a thing of beauty. Penny managed to bludgeon the fucker with her fists until he was nothing. Blasting out holy flame like the bad-ass she was.

Diana had him in a fucking ghostly choke-hold at this point. If she hadn't he'd be running in there like a moron, even after the thing was dead, so he could gut it. As a fucking warning to other demons that may come across this Marquis' body, entrails strung up like fucking party decorations. He always pushed himself too far. 'Too bloody stupid', as Henrietta would've said. The affliction bade him act out, impulsive, despite the control he had.

That he now knew came from the ether, from this...ghost.

Nik's grin curled into a devastatingly devilish smile. He was proud of how hard they fought, how powerful his companions were. A sweep of emotion replaced his currently aptly placed rage, something soft, then his muscles stopped their tensing.

The blond realized at some point that yes, they could see Diana, as a few of them had made a comment, and he pressed his lips into a thin, flat line. She shimmered and let him go, standing beside him like the translucent shape of a woman, her eyes blaring bright, shimmering as she was a thing of gossamer. Between two realms, wavering on the edges of perception.

...she'd only get stronger.

Nik stared at the blackened blood on his fist where he had punched that demon in the mouth. His knuckles hurt, his body hurt, and the adrenaline he felt had tapered down too fast. He was exhausted at this point, desperately in need of a sandwich and a nap, but they couldn't rest yet. Oh no, not yet. That would've been too easy.

“CHRISTIAAAAAAN I’LL FUCKING KILL YOUUUUUU!” Stella lurched, from the corner of his eye, and started to choke the shit out of the whitelighter detective.
“What the f—” Nik motioned to jut forward to fling her off of him—he would've kicked her in the haunches—but Diana held him back.

"....let me go," she held on tight, warbling in between this world and the next, but an unstoppable force. He narrowed his eyes, trying to walk around her, but she stopped him again. In this moment, he knew, she'd start interfering. Nik bristled and bolted around the specter, but he was too late, Rhys was...oddly disconnected in his rebuttal of her wild, blind attack.

When Rhys tilted his head, almost bird-like, Nik's mouth yet again spread into a thin line. The sage and rosewater smell had grown even stronger, permeating the area around them, coming off of the detective in waves. It stung Nik's skin, crept up his veins. This didn't feel right.

"It would be in your best interest to remain calm. The traumas you've endured are not of this world. Distinguish it from the reality of now, and clam the fuck down." He sounded...off. Nik approached around the corner of the man, out of Rhys' peripheral vision, but Grigs rushed in to break up this...extremely irritating interaction. They had just downed the Marquis, and it wasn't the best time to tweak out and try to kill each other.

“Contiello! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE YOUR HUMANITY TO A WINGED PARASITE!” Winged parasite. Nik's strong brows narrowed, his jaw clenching. So this was what was going on. Nik felt like he had been in the dark on this, having an inkling of a suspicion, but the military-grade action-Jackson powerhouse had solidified that idea. The blond didn't quite know what this all meant, or what this meant for their little group of survivors, but he did know he didn't like it.

It smelled like bullshit. Flowery, omnipotent, cloying bullshit. He wished heaven and hell would just leave them alone to live their lives, but no, that was too easy. His expression fell and he made an irritated sound, exasperated.

"...let's get out of here. Hey," Nik said to Rhys, grasping his shoulder. A look of concern washing over his face. This felt wrong, and strange, and it hurt to even place his hand on the other man's shoulder. The part-time devil's predilections for punishment were vast and deeply rooted. It'd take more than a sting and some fucking holy perfume to scare him off.

He shot Grigs a knowing nod, a thank-you in physical form, filled with a great deal of respect. He'd been a lifeline for several here, and Nik was happy for it.

→ aftermath
In the early morning hours, the walls of the house begin to shake, dust breaking loose, the air left electric and charged with dark power. And then it changes. Every illusion stripped away, and suddenly the group finds themselves standing in what can only be described as a slaughterhouse. The mansion no longer warm and welcoming, instead covered in signs of previous struggles of other souls who have come and gotten trapped within its walls. Blood staining the ground, the furniture rotting and worn. Old corpses become visible floating in the lake outside, more of them lining the road leading up to the mansion. Every amenity they thought they’d found, somehow tainted.

The only good thing is that now they can leave.

"Okay, kids, let's get out of here. I don't want to stick around in this bullshit any longer, and I'm sure you don't either," Nik said as he scooped up his obnoxiously colored backpack, and pulled on his pink sunglasses. Rose-colored glasses, a filter for all this hellish garbage.

What that thing had showed within him, that thankfully only Penny had seen, it made him falter. It was a weakness. It was a hole in his mask. It was a garish display of depravity. And so these glasses split that visage. He could hide behind them, and they made the world all the softer, in shades of peaches and sunset sky-pink.

Nik's face soured as he thought on this, but kicked up his step, to leave. A pop of a jaunt, anachronistic music on repeat in his mind, the only thing keeping him focused on leaving this shitshow. Because if he thought on all this too much, he'd be overwhelmed.

His little ghost was nowhere to be found, thankfully, not trailing behind him...or interfering. He'd have more bullshit to look forward to, when she decided to meddle in his life, actively. When, not if. He felt it in his bones, it would only be a matter of time.

→ relocation
Once the true form of the mansion is revealed, the group wastes no time in leaving. They pack their wounded into the convoy of cars and make their way as far as they’re able to go. There’s no supplies to be gathered, nothing to be taken from the mansion, any luxuries that had seemed to be there are rotted and gone as they leave. Following Montrose road to the 195W highway, the group finds rest in an old Hampton inn. The hotel lies just outside of Levittown, but there’s limited supplies inside should they need to restock. Mostly, it’s time to rest and recuperate.

Nik had opted to drive with Penny, Woofus who would apparently always hate him, snarling at him the entire drive, and Rhys riding shotgun. He didn't say much as they drove, but ended up rolling down the window to stick his hand outside and fetter his fingers through the chilled wind. His red coat tucked around him, the snow blasted his hand numb, the one on the steering wheel centered and immutable. He was an excellent driver, especially in shitty snow-covered roads, as one had to be a master when riding around on a motorcycle. Which was the vehicle he had owned in the time of before.

Nik wind-surfed and whistled to himself as they banked over snow, the drive getting rocky. Nik flashed Rhys a grin, but it wasn't connecting. That didn't mean the blond wasn't trying to lighten the mood. He'd always try to be that for his companions.

Now at the old Hampton Inn, Nik parked the car and more or less kicked the door open. The backpack on his back, a cigarette jutting from between his lips—he was already running low—he made his way inside, looking behind him to make sure the others were arriving. Trailing after him. His walk was carefree, but he wasn't, not in the least bit.

Better to be a goofy fool than a broody ass, he thought. They all needed a bit of sunshine every now and then. Nik smashed the door open with a kick and set his stuff down, at least they'd get a chance to rest here. Even if there didn't appear to be very much in the way of supplies.

Smoke wafted into the air from his nose. He set his things down and turned to the others.

"We can rest here. Don't think we'll fuckin' find much, but, at least...it's something," he said with a quirked half-smile.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Lekiel]

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[div class=backgroundbloke]
[div class=infrontofbackaffectsright]
[div class=sidebar]

[div class=sidedetails]

Reverie Lowiezka​

LOCATION — Nightmare Mansion > Old Hampton Inn
INTERACTIONS — BasiliskVeranda CupAndCough Rui
MENTIONS— Hell0NHighWater
DESC. — Hair unfettered, tan wrap coat, red scarf, tights, black converse.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div]

[div class=bye]
[/div][/div][div class=witchtalk]

❖ ❖​

She didn't know how to react at first, huddled just outside a darkened wall where once had been a door. A pulsing red hallway with the sounds of others milling about, but she did not look at them. She thought she'd been over it. The nightmares of a past disintered from the ashes of a life she thought she had burned into meaningless dust. She felt dirty. A disgustingly cloying grime that snaked under her skin that no amount of scratching and caustic bleech could remove. She'd burn her skin off if she could, but knew even then that it would do no more to ameliorate the filth. It was a mar on her conscious, a feculent bog that sloshed in her veins where it should've been blood. A shiver passed over her frame, and she clutched at herself, knuckles white, nails digging into her skin painfully. The only thing keeping her from ripping her skin off was the fact that she'd realized, they were all trapped in some nightmarish dreamscape. But that would've been a lie wouldn't it?

It had been all too real. Somehow. whatever twisted harrow that had beset upon them knew just which petal to pluck, heartstring to snap or kink in her toughened frame to jab to render her frozen, a sack of blood and bone too frightened to move. No. Not frightened. It was not fear that had nearly kept her there. It was abandonment. An impassioned numbness that was a girl's only defense that kept her heart beating, after she had been violated from within. But she remembered the soothing whisper. There'd been a light at the end of the tunnel for her. She'd shut the book of her past before she even read the epilogue. When all this while, she'd allowed the scars of her heart to form a dispassionate shell. It'd been the only way. Until now. Her eyes shifted to the blonde man stood before her. The stranger who knew her. Unwittingly or not, he'd found the last page and read it to her. The knots of sinew and scarred muscle was undone, and she thought she might've heard the beginnings of a pulse again.

Anielica... Her mother lived within her.

Who were these people? A small part of her longed to be held, but she didn't know if the burns were still too raw. Ruby lips drifted upon a hair's breath as her eyes sought out the ocean of deep blue and found a kindred soul. He saw her for what she had been. Had reached out, and resonated with the melancholy that even she did not know her heart sang. Buried under all those scars. This alone was an embrace that transcended far above any physical touch. And for the first time in a lifetime, she found trust. A trust, that despite not knowing this stranger, knew he would see them all across the finish line. Even if it meant sacrificing his last drop of humanity to his cursed affliction.

"Let's go..." Her voice was hoarse, cheeks still stained with dried up tears. She'd hadn't yet known how to voice her gratitude; not quite ready to do it. But she swore she'd do it, once they were out of this putrid place.

He turned and led the way along the red corridor. They passed some of the others, and she might've glimpsed a sympathetic smile. Her eyes were narrowed, a repressed flame glowering within her. She sensed it now. Not of her, but a part of her. Like some spiritual symbiote. It was what fueled her light when she had faced down first the demon, then the Bell Witch. And it was seething with the rage of a powerful bloodline. Woe to those who came between a mother and her child.

"Not yet Mama..." Soon...

They clawed through the membranous wall, seeking out that azure flash. She saw the demon for what it was, attempting to torment the blessed angel. And when the final barrier held them at bay, she held up her hand, the words of a long forgotten incantation whispered on her lips. She felt the presence stir within her, then a door was carved and they were no longer barred any longer. Her companions expected no quarter, and they gave none in return. They surged forward, and the White Witch moved with them, golden flecks trailing like fireflies in their wake as she chanted empowerment. They hit the damnation with the full force of their fury and wrath, and the demon knew a darker day than even the pits of hell it crawled from. Its name was not worth the breath between her lips.

❖ ❖​

They moved quickly after that. The once safe haven revealing itself to be nothing more than a gruesome display of crushed hopes. She'd awoken just in time to see the silver-haired girl pounce upon Rhys with incoherent lunacy. Wordlessly moved at the same time as their bulwark of a prophet, and caught the frail witch when she'd been despatched perforce abruptly. It was high time they left the crumbling ruin, and it was better done whilst leaving their nightmares where it belonged. Behind.

The drive after that was thankfully uneventful. She'd sat at the back of the Humvee with Grig's youngest. Roused her awake when they had arrived and headed into the inn with the rest of the troop. She hoped they all hadn't lost too much back there. She knew she did. But the thrum of her heartbeat between the fresh cracks of its once hardened exterior reminded her of the treasure she'd found.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: House of Horrors → On the road → Hampton Inn
BGM: Happy Song
Mentions: The White Witch Lekiel
Interactions: Grandpa Grigs CupAndCough | Feral Child Rui | Blondie BasiliskVeranda
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
There was a booming voice, a rumble of thunder laced in authoritarian text that turned his attention --though not outwardly-- towards the prophet.

“Contiello! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE YOUR HUMANITY TO A WINGED PARASITE!”

A winged...
His brows furrowed, head shifting towards the prophet with narrowed eyes. The touch caused his brows to raise slightly, staring with a face made of stone and eyes that blazed with blue fury. There was something in his gaze that seemed to be at war with himself as he directed his attention back towards the witch whose neck was caught in his unyielding grip. Something else touched his other arm, attention moving from one sulfuric repulsion to another. Even though the stench seemed stronger, far more prominent, and burned just a bit, he didn't move away.
"...let's get out of here. Hey,"
The glare softened, fingers loosening around the witch's neck as he looked at the afflicted man beside him. He might have hallucinated the concern he saw on his face, but for some reason he didn't think that was the case.
This was real.
He pulled away from Stella as if she were some sort of unwanted disease, expression morphing from self-horror to anger to confusion.

"What the fuck. Jesus fuckin'...shit."
He gave Stella an uncertain glance, uncertain that she wouldn't just go for his throat again like some rabid animal. Rhys looked from Grigs to Nik, a bit lost as he pulled away from them completely. He had never lost control like that before and the fact that it had happened without him being able to stop it scared him. Rhys gave the blond a slight nod, swallowing past the lump in his throat.
"Yeah...let's get the fuck out of this creepy ass fuckin' bullshit house."
Rhys glanced at Reverie as she caught Stella who promptly slumped towards the floor after her release. The whitelighter slipped his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide just how badly they were trembling before following Nik out the door.

†​

The drive there was uneventful. He didn't know if he was grateful for that or not. It might have given his mind something to do instead of sit in the passenger seat and stare out the window. The events that had transpired in that...place made him want to punch something. He kept his head against the glass, staring vacantly forward as his mind attempted to run damage control. A part of him was aware that Nik was throwing smiles his way, but he just couldn't find the willpower to mirror it.
He needed a drink. Badly.
Something wet licked the shell of his ear and he jumped, looking behind him to see the happily panting face of a German Shepard. Rhys reached his hand back and gave a little scratch on Woofus' head. He attempted a smile then, strained, and looked more like a grimace than anything resembling a smile, but at least it was something.

He spent the next hour or so listening to Penny and Nik talk, not that he could say what the conversation was about but it filled the silence and he enjoyed listening if only for the noise.
Cerulean orbs flickered towards Nik as he threw open the car door with enough gusto to cause the dented metal to creak. A sigh brushed past his lips, looking at the truck with a slight forlorn expression. There wasn't a lot of gas left in her and he knew that the human sized dent in the driver's side would cause problems eventually. He made a mental note to ask Alaska about it, but he had a strong feeling that they were going to have to find another car. He grabbed his things from the backseat, throwing his backpack over one shoulder as he watched Woofus clamber out after Penny. Mutely he popped the clip out of his glock, counted the bullets, and rammed it back in. At least the bullets he had used in that nightmare weren't true to the real world. If it were, he'd be in trouble. As it was he only had two more clips before he'd be out of ammo. He'd avoid asking Grigs about it if he could, but without his gun he wasn't sure how useful he could be in a fight. Hand to hand combat only did so much against a revenant.

Nik busted open another door with an exaggerated kick, which might have been comical if this weren't an unknown building with possible revenants or vampires lurking inside.
He held his breath for a second but nothing came sprinting out of the shadows. Rhys moved cautiously behind the blond, watching as he dropped his bags to address the rest of the group. He wasn't really listening at that point, his fixation stuck on the interior instead. Obviously, the place had seen better days. Dust gathered in every corner, pictures hung askew off the walls, and there were spots on the carpet that looked like it could have been old blood.

"One of these days, you're going to kick in a door and a revenant is going to come up to bite you in the ass."
The joke was grumbled, lethargic and dry if not a bit forced, but he managed a slight smile at the end of his words. Rhys moved towards the lobby desk, peaking behind it just to be sure that there wasn't anything waiting to pop out before he started going through the different sets of key cards. All chip required. Shit. He should have figured honestly, and tapping at the holo-PC didn't do anything besides make him a little more irritated. He slipped his glock into the waistband of his pants, glowering at the mess of papers that might have held importance once upon a time. Rhys moved back around the counter with a huff, his gaze flickering from face to face as his mind reeled. He was too tired, too drained to be giving orders but they were all standing there like a bunch of numb-nuts. He didn't want this but he felt...responsible. God, why did he always feel responsible?

"Alright, group up, pair up, or whatever but no solo acts. We don't know what's in here, but I'm sure whatever is probably already knows we're coming." He cast Nik a dry look at that point, pushing one hand into his pocket to fidget unconsciously with the worry stone.

"Grigs, why don't you, Reviere, Darius, Alaska, and James take the first floor. Luci, Haru take the second and uh..." His gaze lingered on Stella, edging away from her without realizing it, "Take Stella with you, make sure she doesn't run into anything. Adisa, Velska, Kayden, take the third floor. Penny, Nik, and I will clear up whatever's on the fourth."

He waited for half a beat before moving off towards the main hallway.

The place was quiet at least, he'd give it that. There was a tiny whine beside him and Rhys cast his gaze downward towards the dog who was practically hovering against his side as he walked. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he scratched the dog behind his ear, "Sorry, Woofus, you can come up to the fourth floor too." That seemed to sate the dog, at least that's what Rhys thought as he promptly gave his fingers a quick lick. At first glance, it seemed as if the hotel was completely empty and he wondered if they had just gotten seriously lucky. It wasn't until he entered the stairwell that the evidence of past carnage was more apparent. Died blood splattered the walls and steps and the stench of decay was so overwhelming he gagged on inhale. Rhys pulled his shirt up to his nose, hoping to filter out the smell to something more manageable. His other hand pulled the gun from his pants, flipping off the safety as he climbed cement steps. Wherever the stench originated from it wasn't from the first two floors. By the time he hit the landing of third floor he didn't have to wonder anymore. A half eaten corpse was rotting in the corner, guts spilled across the floor as flies and maggots made their homes in the opened abdominal region. "Fuck that's gross."

He skipped a couple steps after that, determined to get away from that monstrosity while mentally wishing the 3rd floor luck.
The top floor didn't smell like rancid old meat mixed in with old lady, but it didn't smell like a daffodil daydream either. It was more akin to a stuffy attic than anything else. Woofus slipped past him and trotted down the hall a ways and honestly, Rhys couldn't blame him. He'd be avoiding that stairwell in the future.
Strolling towards the nearest door, stepped to the side and looked over at Nik with an exaggerated gesture, "Kick away, blondie."
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[Chise_Robin_]

Location: Hotel California
mentions: well, everyone i guess

The encounter between Rhys and Stella was disturbing to say the least, she was completely determind to kill him under the assumption that he was another person, and their fiercless leader didn't hold back at all. "It would be in your best interest to remain calm. The traumas you've endured are not of this world. Distinguish it from the reality of now, and clam the fuck down." Correction, that wasn't Rhys, it couldn't have been. The man was strangling the blind witch as if something had taken control of him....A parasite, per their resident prophet's description.

The old mans' words hammered on their ears shaking the half angel out of his trance and back to his normal self. He let go of Stella spitting curses, and Alaska rushed crouching by the witch's side trying to help her up.

Whatever elegance and attractions Leraje had used to seduce the group faded to reviel the ugly truth. All the death, the blood, the severed limbs scattered across the corridors, Emma's body.... Alaska chocked on her breath, her eyes widening in terror as she stared at the blessed witch's lifless body, and rushed out of the mansion only to witness the corpses swimming in the fountains.....That bastard will never be able to do something like that again......Optimism.

The young huntress hopped into her reliable wagon, waited for James and Haruka to get in, then drove after the others. Their road trip was rather a short, quiet one. The nightmares were too much for everyone, and hers played on end in her mind. Fatigue and the loss of adrenaline begged her eyes to shut, but the panic of getting her passengers killed kept the woman awake, it would have been ironic....Surviving all of that shit only to be killed in an accident.

Nik had kicked open the door, Alaska was glad Rhys was his normal self again, his joke about the revenant made her chuckle as she dragged herself out of the car and followed them into the inn. A modern dark mahogany reception desk, computers on top of it, the sophisticatedly antic parke flooring was stained with blood. Alaska took all of the scenery in, nodding to Rhys' remarks about the plan. She was now on the ground petting the friendly dog before he walked up to Rhys who'd started climbing the stairs.

It smelled like something had died in there, a smell they'd pretty much gotten used to, due to the world's current situation. There was a movement from behind the counter, and another coming from the mini cafe the inn had. Alaska was up on her feet in a second, dropped her bow and took out her two daggers. They came at once, sceaching, shouting, with a hungry feaverish look on their faces. Alaska charged at the blond, slitting his throat from both sides, kicking the body towards the red headed revenant who threw it to the already blood stained floor, only a moment's distraction was all Alaska needed to jump the poor woman, stabbing her in the heart after she'd struggled to bite, then decapitating her.

Using the revenant's ripped sweater to clean her daggers, Alaska stood up, adrenaline rushing through her. ''hmm, better'' streched her arms over her shoulders and started walking around the inn, checking the blood stained coffee containers and instant coffee gift sets in the mini bar ''Ihave coffee!" She shouted happily at nobody in particular

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]




𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Old Hampton inn
OOC — ffs nik why so sadness
INTERACTING WITH: Sir Peanut Butter Bandit Hell0NHighWater , Light in the Dark BELIAL. , Woofus The H8er
BGM — FLORENCE + THE MACHINE - BREAKING DOWN[/div]




[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
"One of these days, you're going to kick in a door and a revenant is going to come up to bite you in the ass." Good, I'd deserve it. Nik beamed out a bright smile.
"Heaven forbid. I need my ass, it's my best feature," he said with a chuckle rattling his chest, a typical response. The cigarette smoke swirling around his head and trickling over his back, taking the form of his little ghost. As she had been before, but now clinging on, like a heavy weight. Baggage that wouldn't leave. He'd need to burn her picture if he wanted relief, but for right now it was a good thing she was swirling in a cacophony of brilliant spiral pigments and flecks of ash.

No matter what he did, she would never judge him. Even if she wasn't alive, she would never judge him. If she had been here, she would...No. He had to let them go, he had to let her go.

Penny had seen the light inside of his heart, but...he knew she had fear. She hesitated. No one else would've given him that grace, he knew, in his bones. For what he was now wasn't...it just wasn't right. The fight, how brutal he was, and how he had wanted to be. Pure, graphic, delicious violence. Despite Leraje deserving it...it was all the rust and stardust colors of vile and abhorrent.

These thoughts burdened him. He still wore a smile. The sunglasses helped tie the look together. He should've been an actor.

"Alright, group up, pair up, or whatever but no solo acts. We don't know what's in here, but I'm sure whatever is probably already knows we're coming."
"Got it, chief," he said with comedy like a veil, a quirk of a smile, a hollow set of syllables that probably were words but to him they were the play of words. Mutterings, said expertly, like any other time. But automatic, they held nothing.
"Might be in our favor, if shit rushes at us, then at least we can deal with it instead of waiting for death around every corner," he offered, not quite paying attention, lost in his thoughts as he unearthed his daggers from his belt. The prior sentence came out jagged, more jagged than he had intended, but he was too exhausted to remedy it fully. He let a flit of a smile rest on Rhys' face, that was his apology.

And then he did something, mentally, that he would have never thought he would do. He asked for forgiveness.

Gearing up, leaving his bag behind, preparing to cut down any enemies they may find. He asked for it, or at least he tried. I recognize my faults; I am always conscious of my sins. I have sinned against you—only against you—and done what you consider evil—this is fucking stupid.

It had never worked before, so why would it work now?

Coming face to face with what he really was had shaken him, but he had already been shaken. Not so strong, this part-time devil. Not so used to this breakneck pace, flitting from danger to danger. Nik had had so much more control before. Though he loved the company, loved the familiarity of people to care for and to be cared for in turn, he hadn't had this. Not in this time of now, only in the time of before.

He hadn't realized how exponentially harder it'd be to keep a group of people alive, relying on them, and letting them rely on him. He trusted them, he did not trust himself, though he was making a concerted effort. The best effort he could make, given the circumstances.

He caught the rest of Rhys' commands and listened, only half-intently, but he got it all. Nik followed after, blades in hand and alert. The smell of this place was cloying. Brown smelling and heavy, ripe with death to the point of being almost sweet, it stung. Nik trailed after Rhys, putting up with the smell, cigarette smoke wafting through his nose. Trying to hotbox himself so he wouldn't wretch.

"Watch out, Penny. Human roadkill at 12 o'clock," he said back to his light in the dark, as a sort of warning.
A half-eaten corpse was rotting, maggots digging into their flesh. Nik for the fraction of a second, hesitated. The image was familiar but he didn't want to place it where he knew it belonged. Grigs' words came back to him and he stilled himself, but grimaced. It was repulsive.

"Fuck that's gross."
"...definitely lost my appetite," he added, side-stepping the monstrosity as they wielded up the stairs. And he, indeed, had been hungry. Now...not so much.

The top floor smelled musty, something earthy, filled with mold. Water damage, probably. Black mold, most likely. Nik sucked in the remnants of his cigarette, tossed it to the ground, and ashed it with his shoe. He had only a handful left, and once they were gone, he'd start biting his nails. Not an attractive look, to be plain.

Woofus burst around Nik as well and gave a small whine of irritation. Nik wondered if he'd ever win over their new furry friend, but he bet he wouldn't. There was just something off about him, he bet, that made them dislike him. Cats didn't seem to care. Those evil, evil felines, and all that nonsense.

"Kick away, blondie." The gesture made Nik's face blossom with a smile, something real, warm, and enigmatic.
"Why thank you, Sir Peanut Butter Bandit," he said with equal exaggeration, and then proceeded to barrel the door in with a slam. Strong-legged, a runner's build, and his patience with traipsing around safe-holds—that never ended up being safe at all—was wearing thin. There might have been anger added to that bash.

Nik saw nothing, but he did smell the earthy dampness, aged and cloying. The blond opened up one of the drawers in an end table, spying a leather-bound bible. He rolled his eyes, but he turned the cover over with his blade to peer inside. Red words painted within it THE END IS NIGH, presumably scrawled in blood. No shit, Sherlock.

It made him think back to what Grigs had mentioned before. The words coming from Rhys' mouth like a goddamn automaton, the deeply entrenched smell of roses, clear and sharp, and sage so strong it had burned his eyes.

"Hey, are we going to talk about the whole 'winged parasite' thing, or just conveniently ign—" His little ghost snagged his coat sleeve and tugged, hard. He stumbled back a bit, twisting to look at the air, seeing nothing.

"What? Calm the hell down, Di—" she dragged him back a few feet towards the door, powerfully, with an insistence he hadn't yet seen before. She was growing far too strong, this little boon.

Woofus let out a whine, deep brown eyes shifting. At first, Nik thought it was because of him...dogs and their possibly (not really) misplaced hatred. But, he was getting the sneaking suspicion that it was something far worse.

His little ghost snagged at him again, his cardinal-red coat was wrenched by the collar and pulled by nothing visible. Wrenched back, trying to get him to leave. She obviously didn't want him to be in this room. This now cold room, growing colder by the moment.

His coat was finally let free, like fingers being pulled away, he could feel the little digits clinging and a release, and he jerked back to look at the door, still nothing visible.

Nik caught a whisper out of the corner of his ear. It wasn't his own little ghost's warbling phrases, it was something raw, and it sparked a tone that was just barely audible. On the edge of perception, but high-pitched enough to make his inner ear ring wildly. If it was far louder it could've been a paint-peeling scream.

"...did you both hear that, or am I finally—actually—losing my fuckin' mind?" he asked, his blades steady in his hands.

[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[BELIAL.]

penelope vale & woofus

​

Location

Old Hampton Inn, Floor 4

Interaction

Nik BasiliskVeranda and Rhys Hell0NHighWater and BOB THE BLOB

Music/Mood

Title

OOC

rrrrrrrrrrrre

"Holy fire is a good look on you."

She was glad that Rhys was doing his best to make her feel a little less guilty about the extent to wish she had used her abilities. It was no easy feat to roast a Marquis of Hell, and Penny knew she’d have to pay a price when everybody woke up. More tattoos, probably, and a little less soul inside of her. The idea was chilling, and even though Rhys’s warm hand squeezed her shoulder, she still felt a chill well up inside her heart.

The doors opened, and light poured through. Like a weight falling off, the heaviness of the dream world was finally gone. Penny’s body ached and cramped, tightly wound into a slumbering position on the couch. Her limbs were cold, and she noticed how truly freezing it was in the mansion. Along with that, she noticed just how fucked up the place truly was.

Mold and decay, rotting the wood and stone. There was a pile of bones in the fireplace that had once been so well lit, as well as puddles of icky black substances on the ground and walls. There was an ever-present smell of death and shit that reminded Penny a bit of how Leraje’s smoldering corpse had smelled like. She wrinkled her nose, audibly gagging and peeling herself from the couch. Woofus shuddered from the side, and then began to bark wildly. Penny whipped her head and saw that not too far from her, Rhys was getting the life choked out of him by the same woman from one of the dreams—the one who had lost her eyes. Penny was about to leap and pull the woman off of him, but Rhys handled it on his own.

She watched in awe-struck horror as Rhys was engulfed in glowing lines within his veins and fire rose from his fingertips. It sent a tingle down her spine, not unlike the one she had felt in her dream after killing Leraje. This one was a present sort of tingle, like she could feel that something beyond the levels of holiness was here. She detected it from Rhys and knew that whatever he was doing was not usual for regular blessed.

He was on her in a flash, and the voice that rippled through was not Rhys. Penny glared and Woofus continued to bark. In another movement, an older man that Penny didn’t recognize from the nightmares rushed Rhys and somehow shook sense into him. Woofus was silenced to a low whimper, and Penny just stared quietly. Nik awoke and comforted Rhys, sending him further back into reality. She shook her head, trying to process what exactly happened.

Penny knew little, though a little more thanks to Rhys, about the whole blessed situation. However, despite the lack of knowledge, she knew deep in her bones what had just communicated through Rhys.

An angel.

Penny’s eyes narrowed, her hand tightening over her nose to fight the smells. She was reminded of the haste the group had to leave and followed quickly with Woofus on her heels. Her gaze lingered on the older man who had shaken Rhys out of his angelic stupor. Why hadn’t that man been in the nightmares? He had been in the house, clearly. But why had he not been plunged into the hellscape that the others were? She’d find him later and try to probe some answers out, for her own curiosities sake and to try and get a grasp of what kind of people she had found herself with. So far, they proved to be an interesting bunch.

Though, interesting was too gentle of a term as it seemed.

~~​

Penny sat in the back, rolling her head back to try and silence her mind. It was alive, and whenever she closed her eyes she saw bits of the nightmares she had encountered. Her own took center stage, but the depravity and horror she and the others had witnessed was… traumatizing, to put it lightly.

She sighed, rolling her eyes to Woofus who was gleefully licking Rhys’s earlobe in an attempt to cheer the man up. She gave a small smile at the sight, and then leaned forward to rest her head on the driver’s seat. Nik and she made small talk, comfortable and unrelated to what they had both seen in his dream. She wanted to forget it, now that they were out—and she was sure he did too.

They arrived shortly, and just as Penny had slipped out of the car with Woofus, she saw Nik kick the front doors down. Her eyes widened and she scoffed, leaning forward to advance on the blonde idiot.

She opened her mouth to yell at him, but Rhys beat her to the punch. “One of these days, you’re going to kick in a door and a revenant is going to come up to bite you in the ass.” He said and Penny nodded, shuddering out a laugh.

“I’m glad he’s around. Saves me from yelling at your dumb butt all the time.” Penny muttered, smiling at the two as the group entered the Inn. Penny frowned, looking around. She was unnerved immediately, and after the last place they were at, did not feel safe at all. Penny pulled her batons out and held them out, stalking about the foyer and peeking about corners. Her hair was standing on its end, but her nerves were alert. She peeked about, Woofus sniffing corners and behind the desk.

Rhys made commands and her attention turned, slinking back to the group. He seemed to be the leader, either by designation or obligation she didn’t know, but everyone seemed to listen and respect him. It was refreshing to see someone in control who wasn’t an absolute demon, like the last group Penny had been with was. Her mind flickered back to the scene at the mansion, and how Rhys almost looked… possessed. By the angel. She wondered if that was a regular occurrence… and if that meant that Rhys’s time with them would be limited.

The four, including Woofus, made their way up to the fourth floor. Penny wrinkled her nose again, once again at the mercy of whatever smell was haunting the inn. Pure carnage was in the stairwell, and Penny’s grimace deepened.

“Watch out, Penny. Human roadkill at 12 o'clock,” Nik said and Penny made an audible gag when she spotted the decimated torso. Her stomach rolled, and Penny looked away quickly. Woofus growled at the corpse, tight on Penny’s heels.

"Fuck that's gross."

"...definitely lost my appetite."

“I could have gone my entire life, totally happy, without seeing that.” She muttered aside, clenching her batons tighter to her forearms.

Once they reached the top floor, Woofus bounded past Penny and the others, clearing the space ahead. “Woofus!” She called, but the dog had stopped fairly close and was sniffing curiously at a door. He looked over at the three before backing up when Rhys and Nik approached.

“Kick away, blondie.”

“Why thank you, Sir Peanut Butter Bandit.”

Penny rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her lips. “I take it back. Rhys, you’re definitely a bad influence.”

Nik kicked the door in and she tensed, holding her breath and waiting for something to go about and bite Nik’s ass.

Nothing.

Penny followed in, her eyes dragging about the room. It didn’t smell as bad as the hallways, and the stairwell, but it still reminded Penny of spare room in the old mansion her family lived in. Viv and she would sneak into the spare room often, against their parent’s best wishes, to have tea parties and play pretend. It always smelled in that room, and while it didn’t bother the children at the time, it was vividly in Penny’s mind now.

She looked over at Nik opening a drawer, and then resumed her own search. There were two queen beds in the room, and the dressing was undisturbed. The wallpaper was peeling a bit, almost from water stains. She peered out the window on the furthest wall. She looked back over when Nik began to speak, but he was stopped by a tug. It was Diana. She was more less opaque than she had been in the dream, but Penny could recognize her face anywhere.

Penny was sure that the only reason she had seen the ghost before was because it was in a dream. She figured that the figure of Diana was merely a projection from Nik… but she was very real—in all the ways that a ghost could be real. It worried her that Diana was hanging around, like a literal ghost. She adored Di when she was alive, and the two had clicked quickly. However, Penny understood now more than ever that it was best to leave the dead where they belonged.

Diana was trying to warn Nik about something, and before Penny could ask, Woofus began to tune in. The German Shepard whined, and then let out a low howl. Penny’s hair began to rise on her arms again, and her gaze darted between Nik and Rhys.

“…did you both hear that, or am I finally—actually—losing my fuckin’ mind?” Nik asked, and Penny shook her head, trying to tune in. Yes, she felt beneath her skin. Nothing audible, but just enough of a presence to be detected physically.

“Shh.” Penny whispered, putting a finger to her lips. She searched the room silently, easing open dressers and drawers. In the big dresser across from the beds, and beneath a TV, Penny found a slip of paper, folded over a couple times. She looked up at the boys curiously and unfolded the slip.

Reading it, her eyes narrowed. “…Bob the blob? What the heck? William? What is this?”

She strode forward, pointing to the slip of paper. “It says there are ghosts in this hotel? Jesus, can’t we get a dang break? I haven’t seen a ghost since I was a kid…” She trailed off, lost in an absent memory for a few seconds. She looked back at the boys, shaking her head. “This can’t be real, right? There are no ghosts here.”

Suddenly, a cold air pressed through the room and sent the broken door flying open. Woofus barked, hopping backward. Penny yelped out loud, bringing her batons up in defense.

From the corner of the doorway, a dark silhouette peeked out. Shining, silver eyes loomed from the darkness, and a black hand curled on the door-frame. The shape was vaguely human, but as if created from heavy black smoke. The figure peeled itself from the door frame and floated forward, head cocked at an uncomfortable angle. One hand was outstretched, reaching and probing.

Penny gulped, looking between the boys. What the hell were they supposed to do? Silence stretched in the room, just as long and winding as the arm of the ghost.

It looked between the three, hardly acknowledging the dog. The ghost warbled out a ringing tone, and the silver eyes narrowed into slits. Its attention was on Rhys and Penny, as it happened. Perhaps their angelic energy repulsed it?

The black mass surged forward, knocking into Penny. She slammed against the wall beneath the window. A flower of pain burst in the back of her skull, eliciting a yelp from Penny. The figure reached with its long hand and wrapped spider-like fingers around her throat. The ghost was cold, very cold, and its icy fingers clenched uncomfortably against her neck. The muscles strained and were squeezed. Penny gasped as she was slowly lifted from the ground. Her legs dangled, the life choking out of her. She gripped the ghost’s arm and glared at it, blood rushing into her eyes.

The spirit looked deep into her eyes, and then flung her across the room again. Penny hit another wall hard, falling onto the bed and rolling uncomfortably onto the floor with a bang!

The spirit turned around, silver orbs flickering with a mischievous light.

“Playtime?” It growled with a low, boulder crashing chuckle. “Or dinner?”

 

[CupAndCough]

[div class=godbox][div class=statusBox][div class=Grigori][/div][div class=screen][/div]
[div class=status title]Statistics[/div][div class=statusText]

Additonal Characters and Interactions :
>://: Darius //
>://: Velska //

Location:
>://: Grigori // Going to 1st floor excursion
>://: Darius // 1st floor excursion
>://: Velska // 3rd floor excursion
Equipment:

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「 I N T 」
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「 W I L L 」
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「 A G L」
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「 C H R 」
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[div class=status title]Event[/div]
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[div class=titlebox] GRIGORI [/div]
[div class=postscroll]

As the group departed the house of horrors, Grigori reflected upon the sights of miniscule pieces, fragmentary visions, and the great terror of demonic and angelic limbs and forms. Darius drove, both choices did good for them. Darius had the pleasure to put that horrid house behind him, he dealt with his nightmares. Yet, despite finally coming to terms with his old life and the passing of Luiza...there was a vast cavity. No, that wasn’t quite true, there was something, but it fell into a category that slightly unnerved him. He was growing emotionally deprived, dead.

The young man sighed, saying not a word--but feeling a sense of protection overcame him. Catching Grigori observing him like a great lion overlooking his cubs. And a slight warmth exuding from Luiza’s knife..


Grigori broke his line of sight of Darius, seeing the tension in his shoulders drop, a unspoken wave of relief and fatherly pride dwelled within him. With this he turned to his youngest..


Reverie held his daughter with a caring power, much more of a motherly act than most of acts Velska's mother even attempted. He was not able to admit what a vicious creature her mother was. Much less that she sexually harassed him, but also showed tenderness to him. Their relationship was a complex one, and Grigori did not share any romantic affections towards her. Loyalty, yes. She commanded it, and she earned her rank. Or she at least did once . Ars Goetia was not a family, but the relationship she held with the Major? That was a close one, even if it wasn’t reciprocated. She confided to him, and playing by order; he listened. Whatever compelled him whether it be duty or something else, her memories and woe were dead. Stored within Grigori..


The sight of Reverie holding his daughter brought about some emotions, small reservoir of thoughts that weren’t original his own. He remembered them as something Velska’s mother once gave to him...It was a quickly snuffed. But duly noted. This woman was good with his daughter, that meant something--Grigori looked towards Reverie’s visage, jeweled with those distinct eyes..


”She told me you met. You made quite the impression on her, she is very interested in understanding more about your craft--I will not be a liar, I refused much of her...heritage” , it was much less her heritage in his eyes and more her mother becoming apparently in his daughter. It was a powerful blood, but he dared not entertain her wonders. He could not lose her, he could not..


In a distant memory Velska enjoyed the small day of rest she had with her mother. For a long while it was them, of course her mother often went on business trips and deployment, a line of work she still doesn't fully well understand. Long months of time were robbed of bonding with the woman known as “Vaneska”.

”..Ars Goetia” , muttered the lass, her thoughts nestled in a dream world.. A reaction came forth from.Grigori as she spoke, those words held great meaning.. He was taken back by the words. Looking upon his arm. A few notable emblems suck forth, symbols denoting rank and core. Marine, major. But a group emblem, an insignia with a devil’s pentagram, swords and stalves creating the lines. An eye of providence within its center.

Ars Goetia​

“Woe to Hell, For We Will Burn In It.” ​

Velska could feel her memories fading of those, warm, and quiet summer days. Would this world rob her of her memories of halcyon ruminations? No, this world did not rob her of a mother, the old world did.
She fussed in her sleep, watching memories feels as if they faded. Bright summer days rotting into cold lifeless corpse-winters. Velska could help but not whimper in her slumber. Unable to process the illusory metaphor of the cruel reality she was faced..

Yet she felt her hair still being tousled, fingers so delicate snatching her away from discomfort. The warmth and care. She had to be strong sensation warming her, slowly being roused awake she caught the eyes of the woman caressing her head.


She reddened. Ears becoming flushed with vigor.


”Ah--! W-what!?” , Velska stammered across her shynes, her facade based on her father’s sternness not built.


”Welcome to the world of the living.” , Darius wryly teased arriving at the new possible camp.


[ Lekiel ]


Time had passed hastily, in fact easily so. Velska still slightly beat red and Darius giving a dead-inside smile.

Grigori….was Grigori. Shadows and dread loomed from him. It was normal


Velska and Grigori watched as the afflicted dropped a defenseless door, felling it easily. Grigori grumbled, disdainful at the lack of stratagem and tact. His low grumbled was parroted by a smaller, more exaggerated scoff from Velska. She was 14, but hardly as stupid as to alert every damn creature within a mile radius to their position.


”Shameful.” , she tore into Nik, her teeth clenched. A mixture of shaken fear from noise and quakes. Her hushed voice attempting not to rouse more souls tobl their location. "Do you want to wake the dead or join them? Please tell us which, I'm partial to this humanity business”


Darius eyed his sister, he was unable to contest the rightfulness of Mr. Voss’s methods, but still would rather an ease of an operation..”I’m sure he was trying his best. He probably saw it in a movie, right? I mean he’ll learn--if we survive that is” . Darius chuckled, only to realize the slight jab. ”Not that I meant anything bad, its just that if we die, we wouldn't learn anything...I’m shutting up now” Darius hushed his mouth as Grigori looked at his children with a bit of exasperation, letting out a small huff.


[ BasiliskVeranda ]


Grigori watched Rhys go with his internal bouts, heavy was his burden, but Grigori knew it was a man’s job. Rhys reminded him of every first time commander, not many survived. Even with American Isolationism high during his lifetime he still was deployed. Still watched stupid mistakes end up killing swathes of men. Pity, but Grigori felt oblige the ex-detective. His orders were not law, but would it do any good arguing with him?


Velska cocked her handgun, nodding as Grigori spied at her, she wanted to prove herself.


”Can I?”, Velska pleaded with her father to not reject the order, ”I am capable. Let me prove it.”


Grigori readied a no, but instead grew incapable at the sight of his daughter's desire to prove herself, ”Call me on the radio, never correspond without 5 minute intervals--”

Velska dashed off, a military charge, ”I’ll take point, dead weight isn’t tolerated in my group. Now let’s go, lets put dead thing back in the ground.” . Triumphant and mighty she lead a charge. Training tested, and composure created and locked. Velska was no mere child, she was Grigori’s daughter. Worth more than some soldiers.


”--Damn that child. She will kill me, I feel it.”, Grigori clutched his radio. Tightly and caringly he held onto the item. It was the only way of knowing his daughter would be alright, even if he had to collapse 2 floors to make sure.

”She’ll be fine. You raised us to be” , Darius comforted his father. His concerns as great as his father’s. The tall young man threw up a hand signal. ”Let’s move out. Sights up!” . Swinging his Mosin Nagan to position he walked forward, his knife fixed to the rifle like a bayonett.


Grigori followed suit, not before peering off to his daughter. Her body fading away into the rooms forward. Grigori shifted his gaze towards Reverie. ”Joining us, Ms. Lowiezka--” , he paused for a moment, his mind pondering an idea, “Reverie?” . A correction of familiarity and a small trust, a hand open. Grigori cocked his weapon and waited for the witch to join him.


[ Lekiel , Hell0NHighWater , Kaas , Lakyr , Anise , Chise_Robin_ , ]

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[Hell0NHighWater]

░ CHAPTER THREE ░

Human Monsters​

❝ The truth is this, every monster you have met or will ever meet, was once a human being with a soul that was as soft and light as silk. Someone stole that silk from their soul and turned them into this. So when you see a monster next, always remember this. Do not fear the thing before you. Fear the thing that created it instead. ”

▻ OBJECTIVES
Face The True Horrors Of Man!: Abandon or Rescue. With the memories of the House of Horrors behind them, the survivors seek solace elsewhere, to put horrid dreams behind them, they leave the accursed mansion. But within the lifeless suburb of New Jersey's Levittown, the group will find no such peace.
This hell-blasted world provides no solace and familiarity of calm. Rocked by an attack by a band enigmatic raiders, the group is severed, friends and family stolen.
The foundations shaken, robbed of strength, the group struggles to must decide whether to come to terms that their loved ones are gone or become much more than just a band of survivors and take action.

Sorrow drowns, Hate burns, Man Kills! How will the survivors deal with Human Monsters?

[div class=ICcontainer][div class=sidestep][div class=tab]

RHIK
Post Collab: BasiliskVeranda ​

Interactions: Grigs' Hellspawn CupAndCough | Pen BELIAL.

Location: Haunted Hampton Inn

BGM: Twilight Zone

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[div class=ICcontent]

[div class=FancyPants]
Rhys

”Shameful.”

Rhys paused mid stride, hearing the words just before exiting the lobby. Azure orbs flickered towards the blond walking just slightly ahead before moving back to the young girl. "Do you want to wake the dead or join them? Please tell us which, I'm partial to this humanity business.”

His lips twitched into a frown, tilting his head slightly as if trying to make sure Nik hadn't heard the words that fell from her lips. It was stupid, he knew that, it's why he had made his own retort in the first place, but that didn't mean he wanted the guy to feel bad about it. There was already enough shit, Rhys knew --even though he hadn't seen-- that Nik had gone through enough in the past couple hours. He didn't need some teenage annoyance harping on him. .”I’m sure he was trying his best. He probably saw it in a movie, right? I mean he’ll learn--if we survive that is." Azure orbs narrowed in on the duo, scowl growing as he processed the conversation. If he could, he would have placed his hands over Nik's ears as they walked by but then the blond most certianly would have known something was up.

His glare connected with Darius' and he saw the young man stumble a bit on his words. They maintained eye contact for a moment before he corrected himself, "Not that I meant anything bad, its just that if we die, we wouldn't learn anything...I’m shutting up now.”

"It's best to leave the lecturing to your father, Velska. He's much better at it than you are." The quip was out of his mouth before he could stop himself, cerulean irises fixated on the girl with such a harsh intensity that it might have made her squirm if she wasn't Grigori's spawn.
[div class=FancyPants]
Nik

Nik hadn't missed the comments made by the pint-sized, severe, military-issue Skipper doll, nor Darius' fumbling attempts at jabbing words sideways into the air. Those words died as Rhys stared the teenager down, breaking apart like ash in the throat. Nik's mouth drew into a thin line, listening to Rhys defend his honor.

But he didn't need his honor defended, though it made the blond's mouth twist into a small smile, something a bit flattered. Like hiding away the feeling, swallowed back, and replaced by a razor's grin.

The blond was a hair shy of being too overwhelmed to hold back whatever of his lesser impulses existed, and so anger was not the right path here. Because anger begot anger. The inner war of a man who knew just how wrong his existence now was raged on constantly.

Conscience, soul, heart, people to care for.

Toys made of flesh.

The problem with being afflicted was that it tore down the walls between what you thought about, and what you did. Nik already had a mind full of strangely shaped delights, and terribly gorgeous destruction, but that had all been done up in breathless inks and washes on paper, in the time before.

Now, the already thin boundaries he had had before, were even thinner still. Not even enough of a barrier to skim off the top with a palette knife, the ink bled red and overflowed far too easily.

Nik placed a hand on Rhys' shoulder, reassuring the other man that this wasn't a fight he needed to take on.

"It's fine. She's just trying to act big and strong like her pops. Tweens will be tweens," he said with a short laugh, before rounding up the stairs. His deep blue eyes flashed as he turned to look at Darius' face, a small smile there, something soft. But too soft.

Something like a hellion putting up a downy blanket as a smokescreen.

He was, indeed, trying his best.

†​

[div class=FancyPants]
Rhys

“I take it back. Rhys, you’re definitely a bad influence.”
He turned his head to look back at the other blessed, a smirk carving across his features at her words. He raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and the man gearing up to bust in some helpless door. "I can't believe you actually thought I was a good influence, Penny."
The door swing open with a harsh crack, a bit of wood splintering off the frame from the force of the impact. Rhys made a sort of 'not bad' expression, nodding a little subconsciously as he moved into the room after Nik gun pointed towards the floor. He turned and raised the weapon in one fluid motion, checking in the bathroom briefly, the barrel of the gun moving with the motion of his head.

"Clear."
He hesitated on the last syllable, realizing off-handedly that he was doing something from habit that wouldn't have made much sense to the others. He cleared his throat, washing away the vague memories of a past life. Sometimes, he couldn't believe that it had only been two years. Rhys' gaze moved across the counter, littered with hotel toiletries: hand lotion, shampoo, conditioner, mouthwash. It felt like Christmas.

[div class=FancyPants]
Nik

“Shh," whispered Penny. Obviously the blond wasn't losing his mind just yet, which he was thankful for. It was such a delicate grasp, but he held on, deftly.

“…Bob the blob? What the heck? William? What is this?”
"...what did you find, Pen?" Nik's uneasy feeling wasn't abading, if anything, it was growing stronger. Far too cold here, it crept into the bones.

“It says there are ghosts in this hotel? Jesus, can’t we get a dang break? I haven’t seen a ghost since I was a kid…" Nik raised his brows and then turned to look behind him. Nothing. No murmur, no quip, no little undulation, or light-leak between the folds of this universe and the next.

His little ghost, silent.

Rhys came out of the bathroom then, stuffing something into the main pocket of his bag. His light blue eyes darted from Penny and then to Nik, both brows raised so high that they almost met his hairline. "Did you just say ghosts?"

"I don't think Jesus cares," he said in reference to her exasperation, with a short chuckle to punctuate his sentence. He wanted a break. They all did. That nightmare fiasco had drenched in too deep, ripped their insides apart, and now they had to walk around fielding specters. Nik thought back to Reverie, and even though he knew she was strong and he knew she was the type to thrive against and above it all, he still worried.
"Like ghost-ghosts? White sheet wearing motherfuckers?"
“This can’t be real, right? There are no ghosts here.”
"No shit, it's gotta be a prank. Someone probably thought they were a fuckin' riot before kicking the bucket."
"I mean there's..." The room quickened with a chill that made the blond hesitate. Then in a moment, a figure crept. Dark, a silhouette, a warbled vision on the corners of perception. Bleeding through, head cocked at an angle inhuman, silver-eyed, and blackened in the pitch billows of dire smoke.

Nik's face fell and he stepped back, knocking into a cracked lamp, stepping back on the shell of a lightbulb, crackling under his shoes.

"What the fu—" It switched its attention to both Penny and Rhys, this thing of formlessness made form, of slides of a past life, a film reel unwound and made manifest. Its desires holding power to wield it across the human landscape.

It whirled at Penny and in the flash of a moment had tried to strangle the life from her, then flung her against the wall.

“Playtime? Or dinner?”

"Fuck!" Nik lurched forward to rush to Penny's side but the thing blocked his path, swirling in front of him, hovering. Nik stared at the thing as its silver eyes took him in, seemingly not finding what it was looking for, but intent on being a burden between the two.

The paper Penny had been holding drifted to the floor like an errant feather.

"Rhys! Shit—the note!" Nik barked out as the creature rounded him, more intensely scrutinizing the part-time devil, the blond stepping back in time with its forward movements. Then in the blink of a moment it quite simply tossed him across the room, his back colliding painfully against the wall, the back of his head taking a crack. It knocked the wind from his lungs.

[div class=FancyPants]
Rhys
[/div]
For once in his goddamn life he would have liked things to be less complicated. He watched both Nik and Penny get flung around like rag dolls, blinking against the disbelief. His bag almost fell to the ground from shock. He didn't know what that thing was, but it wasn't what he thought a ghost should look like that was for certain. His gaze darted towards the paper and then back to that shadowy mass. It reminded him too much of Leraje. Too inky and coiled in the very darkness that had woven illusions. He felt like he was going to be sick.
Rhys bolted for the paper, grasping it and moving away just before the thing whirled on him. The detective felt his mouth go dry and he glanced from that sheet of paper and back not knowing what to do with it now that he had it.

"Uh...so...uh...Bob the blob?? He took half a second to make sure he read that right, watching as the apparition twisted it's head towards him. It reminded him of an owl, something definitely inhuman. He could see his breath fog into the air as the temperature dropped further, little clouds of vapor that disappeared just as quickly as they came into existence. "Shit, you poor guy, who the fuck named you that?" The shadowed form twitched, body jerking towards him as Rhys captured it's full undivided attention. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that, but at least it was better than having it beat up on his friends. He cleared his throat, "Not, not, that that is a bad name. It's creative, some chicks dig creative." Now he was rambling, taking small steps backwards as he tried to read the paper and keep it's focus on him.

"Or uh..guys I'm not gonna assume." God smite him already. "But I can see that you live up to your name, the uh the blob part really suits you. What with the uh....shadows and shit..." His eyes flicked back to the paper, reading the words quickly before looking back up at the advancing glob appropriately named. "I can tell you're the life of the party, the whole brooding thing? Really relatable. It's uh too bad you DON'T LIKE OTHER GHOSTS otherwise you could have had an...uh...I don't fuckin' know, Nik, do something I'm running out of shit to say!"

[div class=FancyPants]
Nik
[/div]

"Diana!" As if summoning her from beyond the veil, his little ghost in all her azure tones, crimson and pale, browns and earthy hues, took form enough to be a beautiful blotch of a painting. Smothered in colors of light, thick in places, but transparent in others, her face dark, foreboding.

"...fuck this bastard up!" Nik had no idea if this would work. He didn't know how much power she held, or even if the note was correct at all, or what the writer's dead daughter had done exactly to send this shithead off course. Diana warbled a phrase, stepping forward, as if underwater. Steps slow, but she reached out her hands, as if in an embrace the air near the other specter. Her head was hung low, like a feral creature, this was not a gesture of friendship.

Warm embered tones, a light swipe of peaches at first, crackled up her immaterial skin, and then she was in flames. Not like the whitelighters and their blessed powers, not like him and his bastardly curse. Something altogether different, a haunted creature, replaying her pain, but as a weapon.

She uttered out a guttural sound, not unlike a wild beast or a dog, a howl, a screech, a creed, in no uncertain terms that meant death and destruction to anyone and everything the part-time devil saw as a threat.

Or anyone she, herself, the wayward ghost, saw as a threat...

Nik, at this moment, didn't know what he was more intimidated by. The writhing creature flinging them around, either for 'playtime' or 'dinner', or the ghoul who split the air, head tilted to the side, inhuman, as not-quite-living flame.

[div class=FancyPants]
Rhys
[/div]
He was going to be the first to admit that when he imagined Nik crying out a name, Diana wasn't exactly what he had in mind. He clutched the note in his hand, eyes widening as he watched another figure materialize in front of them. The same one he had saw in Leraje's inner sanctum. His throat tightened, freezing as he watched her approach the other spirit with malicious intent. This was far too trippy for his fatigued mind to keep track of. Bob let out a shriek, something like an inhuman scream that bordered on a growl and it shimmered before slamming itself through the far wall with a puff of shadow. The temperature in the room immediately began to feel warmer and Rhys couldn't tell if he wanted to freak out or just shrug the whole encounter off and find some place to sleep.

"What. The. Fuck."
Freak out it was then.
The words were hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he raked a hand over his head vaguely surprised to feel more of his hair than he was used to. That surprise, however, didn't keep him from staring at the distorted vision of a woman. "Who?" His expression morphed into something that was between confusion and out right horror. If someone had told him yesterday that ghosts were real he would have called horseshit. But seeing it all now...

"Who is she!? Why didn't you tell me you had a pocket-ghost?"
There was an underlying hurt to his tone, one he refused to ponder.
"Fuck." He looked over at Penny, torn between making sure she was okay and moving out into the hallway. He had no idea what was going on. His head hurt. He was too tired for this.
"Are you okay?" There was a deliberate pause before he looked over at Nik as if asking the same question.
[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]
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[Lakyr]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location:
House of Horrors -> Hampton Inn
Interactions: Chise_Robin_
CupAndCough Lekiel [/div][/div][div class=title]James[/div][div class=text]They killed the demon, got out the nightmare and the nice mansion of before was now a rotting place of death. With no reason to stay there they left quickly, getting into the cars and drove away.

James was quiet, lost in thoughts and not thinking anything at the same time. He did his best not to the think of the nightmares they had seen and lived through. And he tried to enjoy the short calm time in that car, whilst nobody had to fight or got tortured. None of them were okay right now but they pulled through and that meant there will be time to be okay another day.

They arrived at some hotel, Nik kicked open the door and everybody started walking in. So did James, hoping there wouldn't be any bigger problems inside. Not too many monsters would be nice for a change. The fact that nothing rushed towards them after the rather loud arrival they had made could've been a good sign... or possibly a bad one.

Rhys did his leader thing again, organizing them with a short command. James simply stayed with his group, blade drawn to be ready if they got into a fight. Alaska easily got rid of two revenants and it didn't seem like there were more of them right now. He smiled as Alaska found the coffee but as he wanted to say something about it he heard a sound from another room or maybe from around the corner of a hallway. It sounded like a loud tapping in the distance.

"Hey, does anybody hear that?" , his voice was lowered, not to raise any unwanted attention, but loud enough to be heard by everybody with him right now, "Does not sound like more revenants..." [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Hampton Inn
Interactions: Steel_427
Mentions: BasiliskVeranda
Hell0NHighWater BELIAL. <- yall more or less I guess
[/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]He hadn't slept a lot in the past night. Not at all, really. He had just rested a bit, half asleep but awake enough to pay attention to the things happening around him. He did that because he didn't trust that girl he had just met, Daisy. He met here near this hotel, they were both searching for a place to rest and after they didn't attack each other they entered this place together. It didn't take long until they met the other reason for him to stay awake, ghosts. This place was haunted but he didn't run around for all that long to find out how bad it was. So he secured some room on the fourth floor with salt which he had picked up and kept around at some point in the past two years. You can never know if you'll come across a ghost, or in this case a couple of them. The reason for choosing a room on the fourth floor was simple, if someone or something entered the building they would have more time to react.

But the night had been quiet, mostly. Ryan was leaning against the wall and let the girl sleep on the bed, he had only taken one pillow to make the ground a bit more comfortable. It had been late as they came to rest so he just kept sitting there as the morning went by and at some point, he heard something, something that wasn't a ghost. Cars outside, stopping close by. He sat up straight and looked over to his things. Backpack, sledgehammer, compound crossbow all lying near the door. He got up, looked towards the window, noticed that the girl was still asleep. As he wanted to walk over to the window to see if he can make anything out he heard the door downstairs being kicked open.

Now Daisy woke up. Ryan made a quick motion for her to be quiet as he hurried towards the window. He could barely see the age of some car, fuck. "Okay, let's just stay quiet and wait.", he didn't bother to whisper yet, they, whoever that was, were still downstairs and far enough away, "We have no idea how many they are but I've heard several cars. So, let's sit this out as long as we can. Maybe they won't even come upstairs and if they do I'll figure something out when the time comes." He wasn't asking her it was an order, he wouldn't let her to something possibly stupid if it could get him in danger as well, so he took the lead on this.

He stood by the door, his feet almost touching the line of salt that kept this room save from the ghosts, and listened closely. He heard voices, they weren't really trying to be quiet, but he couldn't make out what anybody was saying. After a few moments, there were steps coming upstairs and spreading across the other floors. Damn it, they're completely searching this place. Will be difficult to stay hidden, let's hope they won't shoot on sight. Some of them came up to the fourth floor as well, about three persons maybe? Another door was kicked open, it seemed they started to search the rooms up here. He could almost understand some of the words said now. They didn't seem like raiders, or like they had the intention to gun everybody and everything they see down, at least he thought so by the way they seemed to proceed with entering and searching this hotel.

As loud as they were the some of the ghosts would soon introduce themselves. Ryan would wait for that to happen, and probably sit that out as well, to see if this possible problem will handle itself. But he knew he'd probably have to get out there soon. Maybe he'd help them with the ghosts, making a good first impression? For now, he waited and listened. He heard whining and a low howl. A dog?

It only took some more moments before it got loud outside, they were meeting one of the undead residents. He waited, listening to them fighting the ghost, crashing into walls and the like. The ruckus ended, but the voices stayed, they had managed to get rid of it for now. Ryan turned towards Daisy and raised his voice, now almost whispering, "I'll go out there in a moment, you wait here okay? Leave the door open, but close it if I don't come back. Don't forget to renew the salt on the floor again if you do that and only open the door if I'm on the other side." He picked up his sledgehammer with one gloved hand. Not everybody liked an afflicted hunter to be around and it could be to his advantage if people didn't know about that anyway, so he wore the gloves to hide his hunter's mark and the rest of his clothing covered all the black ink his affliction spread across his body. His eyes lingered on his backpack and crossbow for a few seconds, then shot back to Daisy. "Don't touch my stuff, even if I'm not back soon, I need these things. If I come back and you're gone with them ... Let's just say I will get them back.", the tone of his voice was serious and his look intense. She could leave immediately for all he cared, as long as she wouldn't take his supplies or his crossbow.

Turning back towards the door he quietly opened it and peeked into the hallway before he stepped out of the room, facing the direction from which he could still hear voices. He saw an open door not far away, and slowly walked towards it.[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BELIAL.]

penelope vale & woofus

​

Location

Old Hampton Inn, Floor 4

Interaction

Nik BasiliskVeranda and Rhys Hell0NHighWater and Ryan Lakyr

Music/Mood

The Dog and Her Reflection

OOC

attack on ryan

Penny had hit the floor roughly, her skull making a loud impact with the hard, carpeted floor. She writhed about, eyes wide and the room spinning ever so slightly in her vision. The sick-stomached colored ground slammed into the off-white walls, and stars danced lightly on the surfaces. She heard yelling—probably Nik, and Rhys’s low voice attempting to talk to the spirit. While Penny fought to regain balance, and ease the aching in the back of her head, her mind wandered to her first experience with ghosts as a child…

“I can’t sleep Mommy,” Penny whimpered, tugging on the sleeve of her mother’s bed-gown. Penny’s mother rustled in her sheets, shaking her blonde locks on the silk pillow. “I swear Mommy, I swear! Viv saw it too…”

Her mother lifted her head slightly, bags under her eyes shadowing under the light from the lamp by the bed. She reached out a hand and stroked her daughter’s head, smiling lucidly. “She saw it too did she? Where’s Viv now…?”

Penny looked down at the ground, running her toe along the edge of the carpet. “…She went back to sleep.”

Her mother sighed, giving her daughter one last stroke on the head and then flopping back down onto her pillow. “You should too Penelope…” And with another breath, she was back asleep. Penny huffed, shaking her mother’s arm again. There was no response but a breathy sigh, and another hand to the face. Penny groaned and slid her mother’s arm down and back onto the bed. The young girl peeled away and snuck off onto the darkness, plunging the room into darkness once more.

Every shadow jumped, and sent chills rolling down Penny’s spine. She whimpered in the darkness, heading down the long hall and back to the bedroom she shared with her sister. The mansion was haunting at night, and almost seemed alive itself at times. It was old but renovated. Bones of the old estate still lived beneath the walls, and it showed with the creaking and moaning that occasionally whispered in the night.

Entering the bedroom, Penny stopped dead in her tracks.

Hunched over her sister’s bed was a large, misshapen, black mass. Ghostly gold eyes peered down at the slumbering girl. Penny held her breath, hands shaking. Sweat caked the inside of her palms, and she wavered them against the blue linen of her nightgown.

The black mass loomed into a deeper bend, one hand extending out to slowly remove the blanket from Viv’s slumbering form. Penny outwardly gasped at the sight of it, and then quickly slapped a small hand to her mouth.

The spirit looked over slowly, locking eyes with Penny. It straightened, being much taller than the girl had imagined, and simply stared her down. It might have been human at some point, if it was even alive now.

The black mass strode forward into the moonlight cascading from the window, and Penny held her breath before she could shriek even louder. It was humanoid, and appeared feminine. A long, flowing gown extended past its feet and trailed onto the floor. The woman's head was bent to the side at an impossible angle, broken at the neck. Her long, dark hair fell down in front of her face, and a smile extended across her lips. She lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips, uttering a guttural 'sh' noise.

The spirit continued to stare at Penny, and then slowly strode toward her. She shut her eyes tightly, whimpering and breathing heavily. She shook like a leaf as the ghostly presence walked past, sending a cold gust of air across Penny’s face. The air stilled, and she opened her eyes again. It was gone.

Penny shook, tears falling down her eyes, and she darted to her bed. She threw the covers over her head and sobbed openly, shuddering herself to sleep.

Things had passed in a blur, and before Penny knew it, the spirit—or whatever it was—was gone. She stumbled to her feet, clutching her head and wavering in place. She scanned the room and only saw the shaken forms of Rhys and Nik. Penny frowned, furrowing her eyebrows together and pressing onto her skull.

“I… What the heck was that.” She muttered through her clenched teeth, biting back a bit of a sob as the memory collided with reality. That Bob… the blob or whatever the hell had reminded Penny a bit of the spectre that loomed over her sister’s bed an eon ago. The association of memories brought a few tears to the corner of her eyes, and she blinked them back.

“Are you guys okay? How did it… how did you get rid of it? Was it…” She didn’t know if she should say her name, Diana, but she assumed that Nik would know. It begged another question if Rhys knew who Diana was, or that her spirit seemed to be latched onto Nik. “Thanks. I was stupid there, I should have… I froze. It won’t happen again, guys.”

Woofus quickly trotted to Penny and licked her palms worriedly. “I’m fine buddy. Woofus, I’m good. I promise boy.” She smiled a bit at the dog and looked up. A sudden sensation tingled, like something as perverse or less as the previous spirit had entered the space. Penny’s head jerked to the doorway, and she saw a silhouette enter the shadow of the doorway. Her eyes widened, fear blowing her lungs wide and scaring Penny half to death. She gave a yell, surging forward and charging the figure head on. Woofus barked after her.

Penny curled out, slamming the person into the ground. They felt tangible, and Penny doubted that ghosts were this firm. She pinned the person, having caught them off guard, and braced herself to be flipped or attacked. She glared down, locking eyes with a… person?

Like, a proper person. A human, human… probably. Penny cocked her head to the side, glare softening into a confused raising of eyebrows. “Who the heck are you?” She asked, licking her lips in thought. She gazed at the person, entirely apprehensive, but a bit less afraid knowing (and hoping) that they weren’t another spirit.

Woofus split from the room and barked at the man beneath Penny. She looked over at the dog and then back to the man. “I said who the hell are you?”

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]



𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Old Hampton inn
OOC — Heyyyy new duudee
INTERACTING WITH: Sir Peanut Butter Bandit Hell0NHighWater , Light in the Dark BELIAL. , Woofus The H8er, Diana is somewhere maybe, New Dude, Who Dis? Lakyr
BGM — Diana is starting this type of shit: THE POLICE - EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE
Ryan: THE DOORS - PEOPLE ARE STRANGE [/div]




[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
His little ghost had done her job with the force of a hellion, Bob the Blob had dissipated, flooding through the next room, fearful of Nik's personal unearthly body-guard. She warbled out a clicking noise, deep in the throat, like a crackled glottal stop, foreboding—if not a bit freakish. He felt like she was festering, it carried a weight he couldn't place. He sensed it.

He always knew what she was feeling, even in death, he guessed.

His back ached, Bob...had been a fucking wrestler in his past life, or something. Or his soul just had so much ire it was capable of devastation. He couldn't be sure. But one thing was for certain, Nik was mildly concussed.

For all the aches, bruises, head smashes, and otherwise, he'd need some of that next-level ibuprofen. If they got a fucking minute to rest. Nik's face was pained, so many nightmares, all in succession, one after the other. So many tragedies, lives lost in the shuffle, too.

They deserved respite, but hell on earth wasn't so kind. Nor were the angels above, or the ghosts walking beside them.

"What. The. Fuck." Nik's head was killing him, but he still managed to suffer a curious glance. Nik wouldn't have guessed Rhys would be so shaken by a ghost.

Honestly, he also wouldn't have guessed that Penny didn't think ghosts were flittering around all over the fucking place. Hell hounds, demons, 'Winged Parasites', and prophets, Bell Witches and misshapen juggernauts spat about like macabre playing pieces. So...why not ghosts?

Fucking about like little semi-transparent assholes, to rummage around in the now, stuck in the time before, and lost.

Diana's flames died down and she turned, her deep blue dress spinning between two worlds, and smiled. A crimson smile, a pretty thing, even pale and translucent. Her body was an echo, a memory, her legs the silhouette of shy mangrove branches, not quite there, and she wasn't supposed to be.

She was not supposed to be here.

"Who?" Rhys was properly freaking out and Nik suffered to stand, using the wall as a brace to crouch then slide up it. That...had been a blow. He stepped forward and rubbed at his shoulder, and tried to stretch his back for some sort of relief, but the only thing that came to him was a twinged ache.

"Fuck, ow.." Rhys' face was flipping between emotions and Nik smiled at that—one of his nervous smiles—he couldn't quite form a sentence yet. Mild concussions still needed care, and he'd have a bruise for sure. Perhaps, several of them, purple and deep.

"Who is she!? Why didn't you tell me you had a pocket-ghost?" Nik's little specter wore an expression he hadn't yet seen so far, a glare. Directed right at Rhys, boring into his gaze. A blackened thing, a hollow thing, her cheeks gaunting as her ghostly visage's jaw tightened. This was bad. Nik knew, from what the Witch in Queens had told him, that she would only grow more restless.

"Pocket ghost," he said with a brief chuckle that hurt to give, but he gave it anyways.

He thought back for the briefest of a glimmer of a moment to when she started to manifest in strength. It had been when the two men were getting gas. Maybe she had sparked up then. Worried for Nik's vulnerable heart, but she was no longer his and he was no longer her's. She was not his fucking keeper.

There had been...jaunts. This was not a jaunt. Diana, being Diana even in death, apparently, worried.

Her glare lingered on Rhys, a glare so jarring you could feel it. Eyes blacked out and charcoaled, not the same beautiful gaze he had seen her wear. She twisted in gossamer shapes, like slides of reality paning away in slips, and shifted to step back into the veil. She was now nothing more than a smoke that lingered around the blond man. Even now, even when he wasn't smoking a cigarette.

He was being haunted.

"Diana. The...dead fiance," he offered his explanation to both of them, sheepishly, almost like a secret he was admitting. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that she had been the one to protect him, possibly all these years, silent, living in his smoke.

"I...just thought I was going crazy," Nik's gaze cast to Penny as she labored to collect herself. They just had the worst luck, didn't they? That's the expression that was painted across his face. Something somber, a bit incredulous, a hint of irony playing on the corner of his half-smile.

"Until I realized that Penny and Alaska could see her," he said, wincing. His back spasmed. He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting older, and being flung about like a rag doll was affecting him more than he cared to admit.

"Seems like...she's been helping me. Maybe even everyone," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, then his head, with a sour look on his face.

He stepped forward to walk towards Penny and an audible crack of his back pulsed, he winced.

"Are you okay?" Rhys asked, and Nik paused for far too long, mostly trying to figure out how to get his body from shooting pain across it in seemingly every joint possible. Even his knuckles ached at this point. Far too much time spent in the air, flung around, crushed and punched. He was only human. Well, mostly, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm getting too old for this shit..." Nik said as he neared next to his light in the dark, the one he had thought he lost, this breathtaking force of nature. But then his back made a shift and he just couldn't. She stood anyways, warbling on her feet, as if breaking from a trance, bright again.

“I… What the hell was that.” Penny had been staring far away, past all this, into something else. It was that vacant look, the lights were on but nobody was home, a glassy thing, a removed thing, like peering through the wall. Now, however, she was back, the color sparking into her intense gaze once more. Bright eyes, ones he loved to see bright, and not...far-off, glassy, or harrowed.

“Are you guys okay? How did it… how did you get rid of it? Was it…” When Penny met his gaze he nodded to her, a moment of understanding, of perfect sync, of pure realization. His brow quirked, and he moved to crack his back again. He needed that ibuprofen, but it was downstairs with his things...and who knows what other pieces of shit specters were wailing around like squatters in this fucking hotel?

“Thanks. I was stupid there, I should have… I froze. It won’t happen again, guys.”
"Hey, it happens, Lord knows I've frozen up worse, it's," Nik cracked his back finally and made an exasperated groan as he stretched.
"Normal. When the world's crazy, and all that," he made another noise of discomfort.

Nik had wanted to ask just why she had frozen, and what that look on her face had meant, but now was not the time. Later, he decided—if they got a fucking minute to rest—he'd have a chance to sit with her. Catch up, listen to her stories, understand her as she was now. Not just as a memory of who he knew she had been.

Time changes people. It had certainly changed him. For the worse, he felt, for the worse by far.

A smell caught his nose, and Nik cocked his head to jut towards the doorway, but Penny was apparently already on this mission. He more or less just stood there as Rambo-Barbie barked out a warrior's yell...and tackled some guy. Some guy he had never seen before. But he smelled...different. Just a bit, something small, like the light caress of torture. He didn't have quite the word for it, not at the moment, not with his head killing him.

“Who the heck are you?”
"I love when she does this," Nik said to Rhys with a chuckle, a chuckle that hurt. He made a motion with his hand, as though this was something normal, that had happened long ago. Because it had. Not quite in this way, as Nik didn't know she was coming down from an adrenaline rush, from whatever had drawn her gaze long, distant, and murky, while Diana had evicted Bob from the area.

"One time, she had gotten way, way too tanked at a party..." he said to Rhys in a somewhat whisper. A half-smile spread across his face, a bloom of it, warm, bright.
"Some unsavory guy grabbed our friend's ass—tiny little thing, scared out of her mind, covered in glitter like a freaked out pixie—I was about to step in—and she just went off on him."

“I said who the heck are you?”
"We should probably stop her though. Last time I intervened too late and I had to bail her out of jail for breaking his arm..."
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Steel_427]

Location: Old Hampton Inn
Interacting with: Lakyr

Daisy jolted awake at the sound of Ryan's voice, raising her knife is front of her ready to attack, but she looked around and noticed him by the window, knowing something is wrong. She always slept with a knife on her, always prepared in case something, or someone, sneaks on her during the night.

The last few weeks have been rough on her. She has had barely any food... even running out of Oreos! With her energy drained she travelled around the city for another mile or so, desperately searching for anywhere safe to be and any food edible enough to eat.

The night before was a blur. The only thing she remembers was meeting Ryan and almost attacking him but after realising they both weren't going to kill each other she decided to search for a safe place with him...just one night. She thought he was She doesn't remember how she got in the hotel or what was in it.

Daisy knew almost nothing about the monsters in the world, having avoided them as much as possible. Her only battles have been with other humans and human-like monsters - she dares not go near anything else as she is afraid of what the outcome may be. She's witnessed others fall to the victim of them though so she can understand their movement to some extent.

"Okay, let's just stay quiet and wait." Ryan said.

She nodded to Ryan as he talked to her, not saying a word in case she drew attention to them. Following his instructions she nodded and waited, a little tense because of the situation.

Daisy watched him as he moved to the door, listening carefully along with him. The howl startled her. Quickly, she coiled her fingers around her sleeping knife.

"I'll go out there in a moment, you wait here okay? Leave the door open, but close it if I don't come back. Don't forget to renew the salt on the floor again if you do that and only open the door if I'm on the other side."

"Okay." She risked to respond in a whisper before slowly heading to the window. She looked over at him. In awe of how he looked and handled his weapon. "I want to be that strong one day."

"Don't touch my stuff, even if I'm not back soon, I need these things. If I come back and you're gone with them ... Let's just say I will get them back." He said in his serious tone, she raised her eyebrow, she felt slightly offended as she had no intention of stealing and running away with his things.

Peeking out of the widow she scanned the area in front, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brows at the sight. She huffed and slowly tiptoed her way to a secure spot. She slowly draped her rucksack over her, making sure to make minimum noise and to be ready to pounce if needed.

She furrowed her brows again in concentration as she listens intently. Footsteps... but is it Ryan's or someone else's...? "Hmm.." she mumbled, twirling her knife around as it rests on her finger, waiting.

Suddenly there was a lot of commotion in the building. She couldn't tell who it was or where it came from. She griped her knife and poked her head out slowly, scanning the hallway for movement, ready and alert.

 

[Anise]

Kayden Julian Huang
​

TAGS: softy Grigi....oh and is ur daughter a road runner? CupAndCough , Iswear to god he took leasons at Jackie Chan's BasiliskVeranda , Our beloved princess Hell0NHighWater , Snake daddy Kaas
MENTIONS: That girl that saved them from the bell bitch Lekiel
OOC: hope you'll enjoy it :3




Silence. The deadly silence. Was it finally over? His fingers ticked as the freckled hunter slowly tried to open his eyes. They were heavy, as heavy as if the whole world would've laid its weight onto his eyelids.

Exhaustion. He could only imagine how the others have felt after experiencing such horror.

After counting to ten and pinching his skin, his eyes finally opened.


Blood.
Staining every inch of the once glamorously decorated old mansion that brought suffering to every single living soul who dared to stumble upon its parquet floor or even take a peek through its inviting doorway. An illusion. After breaking out of their nightmares, the house finally revealed its true self. A tomb. A morgue for hundreds, thousands of people.

Bodies. Bodies scattered everywhere, slaughtered, ripped apart, torn to pieces.


Kayden slowly fixed his posture, his vision clearing, when he saw Stella launching herself after their precious princes.

''The heck?!'' he jumped to his feet when he saw Rhys taking care of the situation…well more or less…it was his time for choking now and he didn't seem to let go off her that easily.

“Contiello! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE YOUR HUMANITY TO A WINGED PARASITE!”

It was Grigs. The man that brought so many mixed feelings to Kayden every time he opened his mouth. It appeared that deep down…somewhere really deep, deep down this man was a soft, sweet and squishy marshmallow hiding behind the tall walls made out of brick.

"...let's get out of here. Hey," the barbie doll tried to bring his 'friend' to his senses.

It was weird, really weird how quickly their leader lost control of himself to a….'parasite', but there was no time for them to talk or think all of these through. It was time to leave. The sooner, the better.


On his way out of the 'hell house' Kayden caught a glimpse of a body, somehow familiar to him. He approached. The body... Why did he feel like he knew the person? He knitted his eyebrows. That ginger hair... Kayden's eyes widened, he finally connected the dots.
''Emma'' the name echoed through his mind while he crouched next to her body, his facial expression showing no emotion as he stared deep into her eyes. They were opened, showing how much she suffered before she…...
Kayden held out his hand, closing the eyes of the blessed witch that saved his ass not a long time ago. Her motherly instinct, the way she treated them, the way she helped Reverie out of coma…why, just why did such person, good, loving person deserve such death?

Kayden stood Up, ''I'm sorry Em, I'm so sorry,'' the silent words floated through his head.


After saying goodbye to Emma he walked after the rest of the group back to their vehicles. The drive to an inn packed with the deadly silence, as he locked his eyes out of the window, somewhere far away at the distance. At a place he could only hope and imagine not to be occupied by the hellish beasts running around, killing everything good that's left of this planet.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Then they arrived to the inn. Blondie showing off his outstanding kicking abilities again while kicking the door open. Then they all made their way into the building.


After walking in, he took a second to take it all in. The hotel really seemed to have seen better days. The paint peeling off the walls, the unpleasant smell feeling the air, the dust covering the floors…It was vacant…well at least it seemed to be at first, but there was something wrong with the place, the feeling Kayden got while standing in the lobby…it just wasn't right.


Then the time came, when their beloved princess gave out the orders.


He nodded as usual and looked over at Adisa, giving him a faint smile,


''Ready to kill more monsters, mate? Just make sure not to wander off again all by yourself, okay?''


He then walked after Velska….damn that girl was fast, leading a charge.


''What did Grigs do to this child,'' Kayden murmured to himself.


They made their way to the third floor rather quickly, to be greeted with a rotting corpse full of flies and maggots,


''Wow, someone's having a feast here.'' Kayden put a sleeve of his hoodie close to his nose. It was really disgusting, not to mention the smell of it. It was so bad that it almost made him throw up whatever was left in his stomach,

''For fucks sake. How long has this thing-''


He stopped before he could even finish the sentence, his hand gesturing the others to stay quiet as he was being disturbed by the sound of what appeared to be silent giggles. The grip around his swords tightened as he attempted to take a peek down the hallway, looking for a possible threat.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 4th floor
BGM: Honey
Mentions: New Guy
Interactions: Blondie & Pens
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He didn't blink. Forced himself not to blink. His attention remained on the apparition of a woman, hair shimmering like oil and a face that seemed to grow colorless like a still frame that lost a little life upon inspection. The bone structure of her cheeks stood out predominately, seeming to sink in the longer that they maintained eye contact. Though, he wouldn't really call it eye contact because he didn't really see any eyes, just the fathomless pits where a pair of eyes would be. There was nothing about this woman that struck him as helpful or benevolent. Something akin to terror coiled in the pit of his stomach, sending waves of unease trickling down his spine. Whatever she appeared as to Nik --a specter of protection perhaps-- was not what he saw standing before him. He had never felt so...threatened by an entity, be it a person or a fuckin' revenant, in his entire life. The gaze she thrust upon him, made him wonder if he was actually safe. If he would wake up one morning to that hovering above him. It was a sobering thought. A bit like an ice bucket of water being dumped over his head. Rhys pulled his gaze to the blond, hearing the chuckle yet unable to return the smile that was shot his way. There was a lump in his throat that forbade him from replying, baby blue hues shifting back to the entity that all but silently cast him into oblivion. She was no more than a distortion of the light, a human cut out of colors that weren't right. Where she hovered, the things behind it appeared bowed, as if looking through a mild fish-eye lens. Then as quickly as she came, she left, without leaving so much as a word.

"Diana. The...dead fiance," His throat was dry, hands shaking as he slipped them into his pockets. The tremors were different from the ones he usually had: there was no living memory, no images of gore or death that cast an imprint on his world, no thoughts of how people had suffered, nothing but the lingering fulmination that this incorporeal being left in her wake. "I...just thought I was going crazy," Rhys pressed his lips together, finally shifting his focus over towards the blond watching a little too closely as he tried to ease the pain out of his back. Ghost of a fiancee or not, he couldn't help but be worried about that asshole at this point. He didn't know how it got this bad or when it had started to creep up on him, but here he was catching all sorts of feelings that he really didn't want.

He didn't hear the rest of his explanation, or maybe he didn't want to. The first part had been enough to throw him for a fuckin' loop, a ghost to help you out with...other, meaner, ghosts was one thing, the ghost of a dead fiancee? Whole different ballpark. It wasn't jealousy that clutched around his ill beating heart, it was more like a sensation of inadequacy. He would never give voice to the reason why he remained so quiet or why he didn't smile at Nik's attempt to ease his worry. It was there though, hovering over him like a ghost of his own, reminding him more on the nightmare he would rather drown out with some cheap hotel alcohol then confront. It was easier that way. Safer. Compartmentalize the demons and stuff them away. His thumb brushed the stone and he pulled his hand from his pocket.

“Are you guys okay? How did it… how did you get rid of it? Was it…”
"Peachy." A lie.

Rhys shifted over to the dresser as Nik spoke with Penny, lips turned into a frown and eyes narrowed on the clothing his was rifling through. He knew Nik didn't mean him any harm by keeping the little eidolon in his corner, but he couldn't help the bit of anger that simmered inside him. There was no reason to be strung up about this, logically he knew that, knew that they had only known each other for a week or so and it wasn't like there had been time to sit down to chat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled, trying to remind himself to compartmentalize his emotions and focus on the facts.

Nik's dead fiancee was a ghost. Said ghost looked like she would enjoy ripping him to ribbons. Nik failed to mention this little factoid because it wasn't relevant and he thought he was crazy. So where did that put him? Was he a replacement? A substitute for an ugly kind of wound that never healed properly? Or was he merely a distraction? Maybe that demon had been right, maybe he was just a--
A sensation jilted down his spine, the feeling of someone watching but without the eerie ghost quality he had felt earlier. His head tilted towards the door just as he caught the faint whiff of sulfur. He couldn't have reacted as fast as Penny did just then, hell he didn't even think the dog could have pounced on an intruder that fuckin' quickly.

“Who the heck are you?”
"I love when she does this," Nik was at his side, chuckle wheezing from his lungs as if trying to disguise pain. Rhys watched the afflicted out of the corner of his eye, arching an eyebrow in mute question as he waited for him to continue. "One time, she had gotten way, way too tanked at a party..." The whitelighter turned his head to analyze the other man's face, expression remaining somewhere between being void of emotion and scowling. That's when he noticed the way his lips curled into a smile, warm and catching him so off guard that for a second he found himself just staring.
"Some unsavory guy grabbed our friend's ass—tiny little thing, scared out of her mind, covered in glitter like a freaked out pixie—I was about to step in—and she just went off on him."

Rhys blinked. Internal turmoil suddenly put on the back-burner as the story caught his attention. There was something oddly familiar about it and it jarred him because there were a couple things that just...

His gaze traveled back to Penny as she straddled some unknown man, looking like she would kill him without hesitation, then flickered back to Nik. "Pop Rocks....a really good friend of mine, had something like that happen to her at a party once as well. She told me about it the next day...I was supposed to go with her, but something came up --it was probably stupid I can't even remember what was so important about it-- and I ended up not going last minute." Rhys let out a slight chuckle, absently rubbing his jaw as he watched Penny repeat the question.

"We should probably stop her though. Last time I intervened too late and I had to bail her out of jail for breaking his arm..."
He snorted in reply, one corner of his mouth curling up higher than the other. "I don't think jail time is in the equation for this one, unless you want me to arrest her with my imaginary cuffs and imaginary authority. Besides, I don't think I'd mind watching Pen break someone's arm." Rhys gave a little shrug, slipping his hand back into his pocket, only this time when his fingers brushed against the stone he didn't pull away.

He was confident that Penny wouldn't kill the guy, maybe maim or seriously injure, but those things happened. There was a heart beat of silence between them, "How badly did you get hurt?" He copied the semi-whisper Nik had used earlier, the seriousness creeping back into his expression. He pulled his hand from his pocket, fingers itching to take away his discomfort. Healing might have been new to him, but it made him feel capable...significant.
Without waiting for a response, he slid his hand up Nik's back. Gold flecked in his irises as he searched for the injury, fingers pausing on a section towards his lower back. He hummed a little, focusing on the energy that mended the bruising and some of the ache. It wouldn't take away all of the pain, but at least he wouldn't continue to look uncomfortable. His hand traveled back up, the pads of his fingers pressing into the fabric of the coat in an attempt to feel any possible injury a bit better. His hand slipped over the name of his neck, fingers lightly curling into Nik's golden tresses. Rhys stared at his face, brows furrowing just a bit as he moved his fingers through his hair, again concentrating some of his energy on fixing the concussion he sensed. Rhys moved himself a little closer, gaze flickering from the back of Nik's head towards his face. "You gotta stop getting hurt all the time, blondie, otherwise I'm going to end up with gray hair."

Rhys chuckled a little, irises returning back to their brilliant blue but he didn't move away immediately. He continued to lightly massage the back of Nik's head for another couple of moments before pulling away. He focused his attention back on the newcomer then, wondering if maybe they really should do something instead of just watching.
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