Participants:
Also Featuring
| Scene Title | Kon |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A crumbling house. |
| Date | September 8, 2020 |
Another Place, Another Time
A rustle in the bushes.
That's the noise that Chris hears as he comes outside of the cottage and around to the pen where the mutilated cow lays. Corbin exiting right after also hears the rustling in the bushes nearby. Animals can be heard nearby and off in the distance but the rustling stops as both men come into view of the bushes.
It wasn't everyday that the people of this place got visitors such as these. Curious minds would want to seek out the strangers in an even stranger land maybe.
Or maybe they would have other purposes for wanting a glimpse of the mystery that had entered the village and its surrounding wood.
A twig snaps.
Someone moved a little too much.
His march away from the Pekes and the Pollicles had been purpose driven — Chris has no desire to be around an illness that can literally be managed with simple hygiene habits — but when he realized Corbin was on the path to follow, he slowed to let his uncle catch up. “The smell alone,” he states, though his real concern is for the imagined filth. He wouldn’t do well, ever, if transported into an earlier century.
With his head shaking, he puts those issues behind him to focus on the cow. Or what used to be a cow. That is a thing which he has no problem with walking up to for a closer look. He starts leaning in to examine a rend through flesh and muscle, but a sound pulls his eyes that way first, then to Corbin.
Knees bend, and the younger man lowers himself to sit on his heels, eyes scanning the bushes for the source of the rustling sound. “What — ” Chris begins the question in a hushed voice, but stops himself at the snap. His head and eyes turn in that direction next.
“Sad to say, I’ve smelled a lot worse,” Corbin says quietly, and the fact that he’s not losing his lunch probably says that too. Despite the fact he’s wrinkling his nose and looking as if he’d like to be elsewhere. But compared to the smells of that serial killer that him and Robyn had tracked down earlier in the year? This was nothing really.
At the snap of sound, he twists, hand shifting toward his gun, but he resists the urge to actually pull it out, mentally reminding himself that his weapon isn’t really— time appropriate for this world and maybe he should find himself a big branch or something instead.
But in case it was a big monster, he still touched it. Just in case it was a big cow killing monster.
"Not safe to be wandering around these woods strangers," The voice is feminine but deep, and a young woman does indeed poke her head out from the bushes, sizing up the two men before she reveals herself fully. Draped in a dark brown cloak, a hint of a dark blue cotton dress can be seen through the opening at the neck, the ends of both garments brush her black slippered feet.
"More than just shadows lurk," Her eyes are a piercing blue that stare intently at each man, taking in their clothes, the way they stand and as she does so her pupils expand as her eyes shift to white. "So much… vibration. Crossing of the lines. A light that cannot yet shine on this land. You do not belong." The young woman stops her slow walk towards them to kneel at the body of the cow. Hands hovering out over its entrails and she cocks her head to the side. "Your fight is over but may the Mother keep you." When she looks back up her eyes have returned back to normal and she looks over with a nervous glance to the house they stand near. Before she can say more there's a sound of a gunshot in the distance and she turns her head in the direction.
"Here is not safe" She repeats it but is it not safe for them or for her? "I know what you seek strangers." As if that was enough of an introduction, the brown haired woman begins to walk backwards towards the trees. A hand lifts to beckon them over.
A slow turn of his head draws Chris’ eyes to the source of the voice. The young woman is given a look of flat annoyance. Do these woods just piss weirdness into everything? Is it contagious?
As the stranger comes out of her hiding place and says some blessing over the cow, the younger man stands and casts a look at Corbin. Eyebrows lift in question, but the opportunity to ask is thwarted by gunshots. He steps back, face turning for that sound. “Great ducking time to be unarmed, he mutters. It seems to be some kind of agreement to the woman’s assessment. It's certainly not safe.
“What?” Chris asks, louder and actually in reply to the stranger’s statement. She knows what they seek? Fuck, he doesn't even know what he's looking for. Still. A look angles to his uncle, obviously suggesting they follow the woman even as he begins walking after her.
Oh.
She sounds like one of those. Corbin doesn’t say it, but from the way he can’t help but grin, he might not have to. He should feel worried, or concerned, or afraid, but somehow this whole situation excited him. It was one of the reports that no one would ever believe. It would be a hell of a lot of paperwork later, but he couldn’t help but almost look forward to it, especially with certain things that seemed to be coming up. Monsters. Mysterious Illnesses. Time Travel Bubbles.
And now a lady who talked like— well— like a Seer.
Was she going to offer to read their fortune?
“I wish Hokuto were here,” he couldn’t help but whisper to himself, so softly that only Chris might really be able to hear him.
He looked toward the gunshot— he still had his weapon, but— well— he let his hand fall away. It wasn’t going to be of much use from this range anyway. “I say we follow the young lady,” he agrees, as he moves to go that way as well, moving carefully to avoid tripping.
Through the trees they move, the young woman's head turning this way and that way, seemingly searching for something but she never looks behind to the men. She knows they will follow. It seems like hours maybe but can't have been more than twenty minutes travel, maybe thirty. Stepping nimbly through the brush she comes to a stop near a giant tree that had to have been struck by lighting long ago, her hand comes to rest on the blackened bark and eyes close.
Just around the tree, actually positioned southward and facing away is a large hut. Fashioned from wood, rock and mud, the roof a collection of sticks, branches long and short, leaves. Camouflaged from afar. Turning around to face the men finally she smiles and dips her head in greeting as if they had just met now, "You may call me Hedda," Just as soon she's turning around and opening the door to the hut, gesturing for them to come inside. Without actually walking in they can see the floor is dirt but there are patches of sewn rugs laid around. A fire barely cackles in the center but a kettle hangs over it. A table covered with herbs and spices of various kinds dominates the back half of the area. A pallet is messy to the left. The kettle has begun to boil some time ago. "Your light is not like the others, not even the Devils."
Hedda gestures to the floor before the fire where a rug is placed to be sat on. There are already three crude cups laying on their sides. The young woman lifts hers and blows any dust out before grabbing the kettle and pouring hot water in it and nodding over to the other cups for the guys to hold towards her. "Stained, fractured but still so bright, shining through. Light and strange vibrations. Potential, but not potential for here. Only tragedy here." She sounds mystified at times but by the end of her speaking her tone is scratchy and she doesn't smile now. They are in danger.
Once or twice, while the strange woman natters on, Chris casts a look at his uncle. Dubious is probably the best way to describe it. After all, they're following some crazy cosplayer through the Scandia Fun Park. Dubious is only just the tip of the iceberg.
“Lights.” His tone is nothing if not flat and lacking the finesse of a proper investigator. “We've got lights.” Chris takes a seat and holds the cup out to Hedda. He sees no reason to not play along. Maybe somehow manage find out how the circus landed smack in the middle of the woods.
“What’s all that mean exactly? Stained and fractured, vibrations, potential.”
“I think she’s saying we don’t belong here— and you would be right, Hedda. We belong somewhere very far away from here,” Corbin says, tilting his head to the side with curiosity, wondering if this woman is actually gifted or if she happens to just be a little on the crazy side. It could go either way. He’s not really wanting to take a blood sample to test the theory, and he isn’t carrying a test on him anyway—
But it’s an interesting thing to think about. He knew that Expressives had existed throughout history, for quite some time— but— it still fascinated him. “I’m Corbin. This is my nephew, Chris.” She gave her name, they might as well give their own. “You mentioned Devils— we have heard of them, that one attacked and killed a cow— have you seen them? Do you know where they’re coming from?”
Chris receives a look from the young woman and her eyes narrow slightly, "Do his ears ail him?" The question is pointed at Corbin who clearly understands the English she is speaking but the way she connects the words the both of these outsiders use make her ears tick and she closes her eyes. "Your words, the way you say them." It would seem she was equally fascinated by the two of them. The speak of the Devils causes her to shake and she looks down. "Dogs that are goats and hawks and all in between." She whispers, though they were lured here for the purpose of learning of these creatures it would seem Hedda is getting more nervous thinking about them.
Hedda reaches out slowly and places a hand on Corbin's knee and her eyes flicker from blue to white and back rapidly. A shuddering breath quakes her whole body and her grip latches on tighter where it had previously been soft. "She is so pretty, the woman in red. Those queer eyes, like a cat. Some might say a demon. Your fates chase each other like dogs in a field so very loud, a passionate roll, there are daisies in her face."
With a gasp her eyes finally settle back on blue and she leans back from the SESA Agent, watching him through thick eyelashes. "Your touch might not reach the other, but that won't always be so. A reunion awaits you, joined together on the same side." Something for him to look forward too.
Her expression changes and she looks over her shoulder. "Your destiny, one thread of it. Laid bare."
There were still the Devils to discuss…
“No shit we don't belong here.” Chris stares right back at the hoodoo woman, brows drawn and giving the slight impression that he's frowning. It's by some miracle that he doesn't say more, and Christmas must have come early because he doesn't even try to interrupt Hedda when she continues; going on about some woman in red?
Well that part earns Corbin a look, eyebrows raised with a question. Possibly the hint of a knowing smirk. Brown chicken and brown cows.
Unfortunately it's a short lived miracle. Hedda stops talking and Chris plows in with his own diatribe. “I fucking failed at Shakespeare so it'd be helpful if you shaked the mysticism and speared the plain talk. That said.” He looks at the liquid in his cup, gives it a swirl like he's going to divine something out of it. “What sort of winged boar bullshit is going on.” The question is actually posed to himself, but his expertise is in the keeping of horses and not the secrets of the dark arts. He eventually looks up, first to his uncle and then to Hedda.
“Alright, Hedda. Corbin’s going to meet the love of his life.” And about time too. “What else you got. I'm guessing that's the potential part, what about the devils. Or Devils?” Chris’ enunciation changes just subtly to mark a difference between common devils and something of significance. He also chases his question with the brew in his cup, head tipping back to take a healthy drink.
It’s okay, sometimes his ears ail him too.
Corbin doesn’t say that, though, but he does frown as he listens to the young witches' words, trying to pay attention to exactly what she says because— the details matter in these situations in his experience. If she wasn’t just completely off her rocker.
Odds were good that she was not off her rocker, though. She knew about Hokuto’s cat-like eyes. About her red clothes. He hadn’t seen the other woman since they came here, so he doesn’t think shes just dancing around making herself seen by this strange woman she’s not even met. So that means, somehow, this woman can see her. And what she says definitely gives him— concern.
With a clearing of his throat, he looks over at his nephew and then says, “We didn’t really come here to talk about me, I don’t think.” At all. But it still made him think. Part of him was glad Hokuto wasn’t there to hear it. She might be even more concerned than he was. “But I understand…” Even if there’s possibly bad meanings to that, some part of him still hopes that she is right, in some way, anyway.
The love of his life. Whom he’s already met many times. But just can’t be with.
Yet.
“Dogs that are goats? And hawks?” he tries to ask her, because that sounds— familiar. In a way.
Hedda's hand lifts in a point and she stares directly into Chris' eyes. "You who you come into my wood, my home, speaking a language changed and trinkets and cloth that have not yet been discovered. You, Interloper. Would do well to stand as still as a tree." She stands, eyes full of fury and the whites expand and cloud over her blues completely.
"Lest the Devils tear your flesh from bone."
Whatever she sees next makes her fearful and Hedda backs up against the crude wall of her hut. "Devils made by hand, not by any gods. Twisted creatures, eyes so hungry. They come, descend. Expand." Her head snaps up facing towards the hole in the ceiling and her mouth hangs part way open. "Beware what you sow into the ground, the reaping is drenched in blood. Beware what you leave, what you bring back." Her eyes don't fade back, not yet. This sort of episode Corbin has been privy too with Eve Mas only a handful of times and though Hedda and Eve are not the same it sparks a memory of a time in the Oracle Room where the former seer spun webs of prophecy.
"Strangers, strange land, Strange Devils in the shadows." Her speech quickens, more fevered. She rounds fully on Chris and stalks forward, knees wavering and she sways in place almost falling backwards. "A worm, you worm through with the edge of cruelty but beneath that armor lays a softened heart, beating and pulsing with blood of a strong line. Your undoing shall bring ruin upon your name, House Ayer's foundation crumbles with a touch. A heir is broken, a boy weeps in the corner. Not again. Not again." Her dress gets dangerously close to the fire but she doesn't seem to notice, eyes faded like spoiled milk fixated on the younger Ayers man.
"Only you can save your house's name, shed the childish trappings and succeed. Or fail and lose yourself and all you hold dear."
Hedda drops to the ground unexpectedly, breathing labored and she scrambles backwards as her eyes fade back to their natural color.
"Grow. Up." She spits and closes her eyes, head lolling to the side.
Being rounded on unexpectedly has Chris crabbing backward. What little bit that was left in his cup is spilled in his haste to keep his distance from the woman. A hand drags through it, spreading it into the rough, bare floor. But the abruptness of Hedda’s change in demeanor has smothered any counter argument he might have come up with.
As the tirade continues, he shoots a look at his uncle. He is so far out of his depth, and it shows. The younger man starts to get to his feet, redirects his eyes to Hedda
and finds her coming at him again.
The rising motion becomes a backward lurch. Chris makes a sound, strangled and guttural, as he trips over himself to keep from being stabbed or worse by the woman. He backs himself right into the opposite wall, with plenty of clatter in the unfamiliar space. But Hedda’s white-eyed gaze is met right up to the very end of her lunatic ravings.
Of all the… “Yikes,” Corbin says with a shake of his head. He almost wants to apologize, but he’s not sure who to for some strange reason. “Okay, thank you, Miss Hedda, for the— personal— fortune tellings…” he looks towards his nephew— okay maybe he wants to apologize to him a little. And for him. And for his father. And for the fact that the boy had to spend the last few years without his family because of his uncle’s job and what happened in the last decade. It had probably informed as much on his upbringing as anything.
“But that’s not why we’re here. Can you tell us about the creatures now? Are there more than one? Is there a way to stop them before they kill more than a few cows?” Cause yeah, losing cows was bad. Losing people was worse. The Thypus stuff sounded like something more natural, but the monster was more in his area of expertise.
Those blue eyes stay on Chris a moment longer, the firelight reflecting in them. "Never one, always a clan." It's a simple enough answer that question at least.
She laughs a harsh sound and turns her head, "Hard to kill. Too hard to kill, we would have done it already." Hedda's fist balls up and she glares into the wall watching the shadows from the fire dance.
"It's time to go," Shs says suddenly and she hops to her feet, waving at the two men like an old grandma does to her grandkids in the kitchen. "Today will not be, tomorrow will flow over and if you misstep, you'll never see it again." It, where they're from. Home. Hedda frowns at the Ayers men and she scratches her arm.
"Hurry, you don't want to end up like the Kon."