Participants:
| Scene Title | Catalysis, Part III |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | There are some problems Gabriella can't chase away with vices. |
| Date | January 15, 2021 |
There’s a dull throbbing pain somewhere behind her left ear that she’s been ignoring since she woke up this morning. It’s easy enough to chalk it up to dehydration and the scent of smoke in the air that stings her eyes and dries her throat.
Harder to ignore is the sharper mental whisper that this might be serious and that she should be drinking water, not putting back her second gin and tonic while making eyes with a handsome stranger across the bar from her.
Harder to ignore, but Gabriella Milos is always up to the challenge. She crooks her finger to beckon the bartender her way, ordering another drink for herself and one for the man she’s set her green gaze on. Watching the little dance unfold, her fingers blindly slide into her purse, deft fingers seeking the pill bottle within. She shakes two out, tossing them in her mouth dry before chasing with a gulp of the gin and tonic.
Four Hours Later
Hotel Reverie
Williamsburg
January 15th
4:04 pm
The hallway of her hotel suite is littered with clothing — hers and his, in an easy-to-follow trail that leads from the front door to the king-sized bed in the bedroom. She hadn’t intended for him to be here so long, but they had both fallen asleep, exhaustion fueled by alcohol — a bottle of wine and two half-finished glasses sit on the bedside table.
Gabriella lies on her back, her head turned to the side on the mattress — the pillow was lost sometime to the floor and never recovered. It hadn’t kept her from falling asleep. One arm crosses her chest, her hand clasping her opposite shoulder, her chin resting against the hand. Tawny hair has tumbled free from its hairpins and pools around her head on the white satin sheets. There’s something sweet, almost beatific in her expression compared to the wry mannerisms she has when awake.
A shadow falls over her angelic features as a man steps into the sunlight, letting the warmth of it splash across his back while he buttons his jeans. He wasn’t in a hurry, but he also didn’t want to wake the sleeping beauty. He had no interest in those awkward moments when they were both awake and he’d overstayed.
Which he had unfortunately… It had to be those shots they did before retreating to her room and the wine she had waiting.
Studying the sleeping form with a neutral expression, he moved to find the burgundy button up he’d been wearing. A few popped buttons are quickly discovered after he’d shrugged it on and tried to button it.
Well…
Godfrey couldn’t help the small smug smile. Rather small inconvenience that was, but not the first time it’s happened. While she'd been a rather fun and wild partner, she wasn’t the only one that hadn’t planned on him still being there this long.
But now, with hope, Godfrey could sneak out before she woke.
The sunlight from the western-facing window wasn’t enough to wake her, but the eclipse does the trick. Just one gold-green eye opens, barely, as if to spy on his dressing. Gabriella doesn’t plan on stopping him or asking him to stay longer, so they are of the same mind. No need for false pretenses on either of their parts.
What makes both eyes pop open and evokes a soft whimper from her throat is the vision of someone else in the room — looming over her, with no regard for the man trying to put his clothes on. No sunshine finds the features of this dark-clad figure, even where the ruddy light, made red from the amount of smoke in the air, should fall. Yet somehow still, there’s a glint of silver in one of his hands.
Gabby tries to move, but finds herself frozen. Her breath catches in her throat and she tries to yell, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. Her eyes fix on the man only she can see. Nostrils flare and her eyes widen, the whites bloodshot.
The sound catches his attention as he’s pulling on socks and searching for his other missing shoe. His now sock clad foot drops to the floor so that he can turn to glance back at the bed. At first he only sees that she’s awake. He throws on a cheery grin, “Hello, luv.”
What was her name again?
“Dreadfully sorry, but….” Godfrey trails off when he realizes she’s staring at a point in the room like she was seeing a ghost. There certainly wasn’t anything there. Confusion creases his brows as he takes a step closer to the bed. “Alright luv?” He asks, immediately berating himself that he didn't just leave quickly rather than ask.
The man springs forward, the silver flashing in the reddish sunlight before Gabriella feels it pressed against her neck, its flat length, its ricasso pushing down on her larynx in silent decree:
Don’t speak.
Her eyes widen more and she tries to press herself flatter against the mattress to escape the weight of the blade. At the sound of Godfrey’s voice, full of unapologetic apology, she turns her eyes that way, an imploring cry for help silently screamed. Her eyes look wild, like those of a horse or a dog when they’re afraid.
Her assailant turns the blade slowly so the edge presses, light against her skin — not hard enough to bleed, but close enough that Gabriella can feel the threat of its sharpness. But she can breathe more easily, now it’s lifted slightly. She stares up at the dark eyes of the figure above her — not Godfrey, but…
“Fffffhhh…” Gabby tries to speak, but she can’t seem to even open her mouth to form a word. Her hand on her own shoulder has now curled into a fist that shakes — with fear or something else.
Godfrey takes another step forward and his foot connects with the missing shoe, under the bed. “Bloody hell,” Godfrey grumbles, dropping down to fish it out from under the bed. Though like anyone reaching under the bed of a strange hotel, he hopes there isn’t a rat or a dead body. Of course, seeing her all freaked out was almost as bad.
Either way, it was time to go.
He doesn’t know what’s going on, but it was best he not be there when medics show. At least Godfrey isn’t so cold blooded that he doesn’t dial the emergency number while pulling on his shoe.
“Hello?” Godfrey says when the line is picked up. “Yes, there is a woman having… I dunno what, but she’s stiff as a board and staring at nothing. Does not look good.” He’s a bit worried she’ll start speaking in tongue and projectile vomiting. He didn’t plan to wait to find out.
“Hmm? Where is she?”
That was a good question, Godfrey realizes suddenly that he has no idea. Pulling out the drawers he finds a small pad of paper with a letterhead. “Uh… Hotel Reviere… Room… uh…” The Brit quickly pulls open the door to catch the room number. “801.”
Finally, that looming figure disappears before her eyes, the whisper-weight of the blade’s sharp edge gone from her throat. But what replaces them is sudden, incapacitating pain blooming behind one eye and sending tingling needles down her side.
“Help me,” Gabriella manages to finally gasp, one hand reaching out to the stranger in her room as he opens the door.
Her eyes roll back, their green-gold irises invisible. Only the blood-shot whites of her eyes show as her body begins to convulse on the silk-clad mattress, her head moving closer to the headboard with every tremor.
Godfrey’s eyes widen when the woman’s body starts to convulse. Oh dear. This just jumped to a level that he had no desire to mess with. “Just so you know, you might want to hurry, she just started having convulsions.”
He doesn’t wait for them to say anything else and ends the call, he has no desire to wait on the line. Grabbing his jacket, Godfrey pauses at the door.
“Help is on the way…” - Giovanna? Gretchen? Grace? He remembered it started with a G… bah - “…luv…. Ah, thanks for the fun, I do hope we never see each other again.” This was not a moment he cared to repeat.
After a small moment to grapple with his subconscious, Godfrey quickly adds, “Goodbye.” and ducks out of the room. Though he doesn’t look back, he at least snags a housekeeper and points her to the hotel room he’d just left. “Medical emergency right through there, luv. I already called it in.”
At least the woman wouldn’t be alone until the EMTs arrived.
Luckily for Gabriella’s pride, none of what Godfrey says is heard. Instead, as she slips into the black depths of unconsciousness, the last thing she sees is a white hand reaching out to grab her by the wrist, pulling her down like a sinking stone.
It no longer feels like dying, but peace.