Name: Scarlette Lenox
Nickname: Red
Role: Resident (returning)
Interests: Sirvan (FI) | Donovan (RI) | Mikel (FI) | Yasaman (FI)
Places to Investigate: Forest | Researcher's Office | Grand Metropole
DARG Participant? Yes
ABOUT
Face claim: Christina Hendrix
Age: 33
Traits: Feisty, alluring, stylish, bold | impulsive, blunt, sarcastic, irresponsible
Personality:
Scarlette is a bubbly free-spirit with a curious appreciation for art, culture and adventure. She is a bit self-centered but she is non-judgmental about other lifestyles or interests. She is extremely spontaneous and can be categorically careless especially where money is concerned. She will often splurge and overspend on expensive trinkets and fashion and is quite unapologetic about her taste for the finer things. She is good-natured, fun-loving and compassionate but also tends to be extremely prideful and at times manipulative. She knows what she wants and how to get it. She is confident, maybe too the point of being vain, but her sultry charm and frisky flirty ways causes others to overlook some of her more eccentric behaviors. She says and does some of the most mischievously outrageous things and does not care what others might think. Scarlette is full of passion and has a zest for life, often seeking out the most lavish of entertainments. She can get easily bored and maybe because of this has trouble making genuine connections with people. Few things get a rise out of her, she is quite optimistic and quick to laugh, even if it is at her own expense. Be ware though, she will not hesitate to turn her fiery temper on you if you cross her.
STORY-DONE
Scene of the Crime | Sirvan - DONE
The shock of seeing Sirvan laying in a heap, prone and nearly unconscious, in pain left me feeling helpless. Aimee rushed to his side then Rafe brushed passed me… taking Sirvan’s vitals and barking out orders… then Donovan and Mikel were there… everyone moving swiftly to get Sirvan to safety… to help. I remember vaguely tearing a strip of my dress away and handing it to Rafe as he applied pressure to what must be some wound… there was so much blood. My stomach was coiled into knots, tears burned the back of my eyes… I felt… anxious… terrified, angry. How badly hurt had he been… how had it happened? Several minutes later Donovan had Sirvan in his arms carrying him… I should have been struck by his strength in that moment, but I was barely holding it together. Sirvan was loaded into a vehicle… and then the troop of us followed along to the hospital. Once inside, Rafe disappeared with a crowd of doctors behind the operating room doors, leaving the rest of us standing there… confused.
Donovan had blood smeared all over his suit… Aimee as well… just blood… on their hands, their clothes as they seemed to be speaking… I assumed about the attack. I could not hear what they were saying, I could only hear the harsh loud drumming of my heart in my ears. My hands shook as I turned away, looking around the dimly lit waiting room just outside of surgery. I walked forward, slipping onto a plush sofa and turning a mindless gaze towards a television hanging opposite me… some news outlet, muted… top stories flashing in closed caption.
It was quiet, almost serene in that space. Calm. Clearly designed to attempt at soothing the occupants within while we all waited tensely on the outcomes from whomever we knew behind those steely doors. A man flipped through a magazine a few seats away from me… the teen beside him fascinated by whatever was on his cell phone. There was the hum of soft jazz buzzing through speakers somewhere in the ceiling and periodically a nurse or orderly strolled through the space before disappearing behind the doors Rafe had gone a while before.
I do not know how long I sat there. Donovan came over at one point, suggesting that I head home. I refused. Someone should be there when Sirvan came out of surgery. I did not notice the look that crossed Donovan’s face, but I did not object when he took a seat next to me. He did not try to order me home… as I suspect Rafe might have done. Nor did he try to convince me with logic that I was wasting time or anything like that. He was just… there. A steady, calming presence somehow. He had become that a lot over the last few months. Every time I had been wound up… every time the fear was nearly choking me… somehow Donovan ended up being there and things just seemed more bearable.
Mikel came… offered me something to drink. I do not know what it was… some type of coffee? But it had a weird aftertaste. Or maybe I was just too dimwitted to notice anything at that moment. Dull… drained. But the warm beverage seemed to sooth some of my anxiety. Still… every time the doors parted my gaze shot in that direction, bracing myself. But the longer I waited, the heavier my lids became, I yawned… I sipped more of the coffee. I needed to stay awake. Needed to make sure Sirvan was okay. Another yawn… Donovan stretched his arm out… pulling me closer. I shook my head trying to focus. Mikel asked something… I frowned, glancing at him. What was it… about my book? Writing… I responded I think… Donovan pulled me closer as I yawned again. Eventually my head was resting on his shoulder, but I was talking… about what… or right, about my books… Immortal Fires… what was I saying. I yawned again…
“Red…” My eyes rounded and I jerked. It had only been a light touch, a gentle shake, but I felt like I had been jostled out of a fog. I rubbed my eyes and squinted. The room seemed darker… I glanced at a clock on the wall and gasped. Four hours? How had four hours passed? Then I spied Rafe standing there… covered in scrubs from head to toe… Donovan beside me, it was his voice… his touch that broke through. I immediately jumped to my feet when I saw my brother, but I felt wobbly and stumbled a little. Someone caught me but I was still focused…
“Sirvan?” My goodness why was my voice so raspy. I cleared my throat and asked again.
“He’s tough… he’ll live…”
“Good…” Donovan was speaking now… “you can go home and get some rest now…” I shook my head, ignoring him, looking at Rafe.
“I need to see him”
“For what…”
“Why…”
They both blurt out in unison. I frowned from one to the other while pressing my lips together. Then I yawned again making me shake my head. What the hell…
“Are you going to get me in there or do I need to find a way to sneak in there on my own?”
“Tomorrow…” Donovan uttered sternly, to which Rafe nodded in agreement. I gritted my teeth but neither of them would budge and in the end I agreed that I would return the following day and that no one had better try denying me.
Sirvan was resting when I got to see him and yet his face lights up when he sees me and tries to sit up. He was obviously in pain, I could tell by the way he winced and reached to cup his side. Rafe assured me that he was out of harms way, but that it was going to take some time before he is truly fully mobile again. For now, he moves carefully into a half-sitting position.
I ask him about how he is feeling… tell him I’m very glad he did not go and get himself killed… several minutes of light-hearted bantered passed between us before I demand to know what happened. I could tell that he hesitated… and I could tell that he would have avoiding telling… was it just me he was trying to keep the secrets from? I refused to allow it. I demanded the story… I wanted to know what he knew… about what was happening in town, about his attack… about who might have attacked him.
It is clear he doesn’t really want to discuss it, his face draws tight and he lapses into silence for some time but he finally shrugs and begins to recant the circumstances that led up to his stabbing. He talked about his nightmares again, similar to the ones I had been having… and about how he was suddenly finding himself in strange locations when he woke… sleepwalking. Never having any clue about the space of time or the way he arrived at the places he would wake from. Said it happened to him that night, at the Gala. He was in the ballroom, enjoying the festivities, having a drink, mingling… schmoozing dignitaries. Then suddenly, he was upstairs… no clue how or when he managed to go there. But he remembered the parlor room… and whispering. He was certain he had heard whispering. But not like before… not just hissing sounds and murmurs… but something more direct. He paused, looking at me hesitantly… nervously. Released a breath and squeezed his fists into the covers at his waist before continuing.
“It was telling me to destroy the sword… It was fixated on it, and that was it. Just a command… demand… that I destroy it. But there was nothing else. No person… just me alone in that room and that voice. But I said no… “
He gestured to his wound, the bandages peeking out. He had been stabbed. But there had never been anyone else in that room. Never saw an attacker, just a sudden shadow formed, seemed to surround me… looming up high and coming at me and then it just… hurt. His vision went white… the pain was so swift and piercing that he doubled over before collapsing to the floor, and then everything just kind of went blank. He had no idea who would try to murder him. He was fairly certain none of his political rivals would sink to that level.
We chatted longer, I stayed with him for a while making sure he was comfortable and just talking about random stuff… laughing lightly when he complained that it had to be Rafe to save him and other non-sense things that allowed him to take his mind
Not that I felt satisfied with the information that I found out. So… a few days later I made my way to Town Hall, intending to have a look at the room. The night of the incident I had been so concerned over Sirvan’s condition that I did not at all take the time to look around the ‘crime scene’. After making my way up the main stairs and wandering past some administrative staff I go to the room where Sirvan had been found. Tentatively I slip inside, not quite sure what to expect. I am not even sure what I hoped to garner coming up there, but to my dismay there was not much to it. The room was back to normal, no visible evidence that a crime had so recently occurred in the space. It was a reading room, elegantly decorated with a large carpet that seemed far too modern for the space lay across the floor. I could make out faint dark traces of blood across those floorboards after I plunked the edge of the carpet and lifted it for a peep underneath. But what caught my eye the most was a strange groove that looked to stretch directly from the middle of the dark stain.
Slowly, I follow the trail from that dark patch and notice that the marks drag a trail to the end of a filing cabinet. Frowning, I drop the rug and go over, jostling the cabinet to the side until I reveal the heavy sharp scratch ended… or maybe started… in the middle of the wall… then it just disappeared out of the window, a bevy of scratchmarks marred the windowsill. And suddenly, Sirvan’s words rang in my head… his insistence that he had been alone, that he was just suddenly attacked. Does that mean that the attacker just… appeared? In the middle of the room?
Again, more questions than answers. And I was getting remarkedly frustrated by the unexplainable occurrences… someone in this town should know something, right??
I dragged in a ragged breath and decided to give my investigating a rest for the day.
RESEARCHERS OFFICE | YAS - DONE
I continued to do my volunteer work with DARG, mostly because it seemed the best and easiest way to gather information about what was going on. Every day the temperature dropped… and along with it, thicker fog rolling across the town. It was incredibly creepy. There were also the voices. I still heard them occasionally but had gotten in the habit of burning the herbs I got from Mikel. For whatever reason, they seemed to help, as he predicted. But here in the Researcher’s office, there was news relating to the excavation and all the myths and legends surrounding the finds that gave me ideas of what to consider and look for.
It just so happened that after my visit with Sirvan I ran across some new information that I had not previewed before. Several new files were packed away in the office and of course I took the time to look through each one.
One file included a whole write up about the sword… what was now being referred to as “Mh’ilerh’s Bane” and it literally sent chills down my spine. I had already read somewhere before that this name was also referred to as The Miller… who apparently was some sort of pagan idol… the God of Chaos and Entropy. And the sword… well it was reputed to be just that? The bane of the God… an annoyance… the cause of the God’s misery. And well… if the sword caused chaos misery… didn’t that make it a good thing? The voices had told Sirvan to destroy it… he had been stabbed when he refused. Could any of this be expected to be believed? Was it possible that all of this... the myths and legends… could they all be real?
The file about the sword material itself is not one that is known to historians or scientists - or rather, analysis has yet to yield conclusive results. It seems to be made of a peculiarly hard material, with a similar make up to diamond, but seems to be translucent and almost glass-like in appearance. The blade itself is also extremely sharp - as testified when one of our researchers, Mr. Dawson… Zain… accidentally cut himself on it.
The slot itself seems to be filled with a liquid, oily substance. Further analysis reveals it to have been made up of valerian, agrimony, root chicory, lavender, rue, arnica oil, and sea water. It bears close resemblance to the local Draycott sedative Yumpir’s Fare, favoured by the older folk in assisting sleep.
So the sleeping agent that was basically used by most of the elderly in town was also similar to what was found in the ruins that dated back to before the 18th century?
I moved on to a file about the wardstones that were also housed at the exhibition, right there in the same building as the sword, as the research material, as Sirvan being attacked. I shook my head as I glanced through the info. Faintly glowing stones… structurally unsound… the whole top rows had been removed for preservation and according to the reports there seemed to be some type of mechanism that would allow new stones to be molded and slotted into the space perfectly easy. The rock is reported to be sourced from somewhere in Draycott… hadn’t I read something about a quarry somewhere… I frowned a bit harder trying to remember. It was a report here in the office… something about an attempted robbery at the quarry… in the forest? I nibbled on my lower lip.
Basalt rock formed the runes… and some sort of herbal wax substance coated its surface. I know I had read about a waxy substance before too. Pushing that file aside I moved to dig through another.
Hmmm… the box marked excavation site was completely empty, but I learned from one of the other volunteers that the information had been relocated down to the Analytics Lab, so of course, I headed to the ground floor. My eyes shifted and glanced over the items in the exhibition as I moved past them to the location of the lab. Few people were there but those that were seemed to be highly occupied with discussing the fact that someone had attempted to break in the room on the previous night.
The lighthouse, the quarry, the exhibition itself and now the analytics lab. What did they all have in common? In a matter of a few months all of them had been struck by vandals or miscreants attempting to break in. These attempts could not just be coincidence… like there was obviously something terribly wrong.
I spotted only one file, another gathering of information about the wardstones and quickly scanned the information. There was a photo of what seemed to be the ruins… a ritual or magic circle with three concentric circles, diving the space into four rings. There is an inscription between the runes. I had seen these symbols many times in the last months… between books and reports… they were just too memorable to mistake at this point. Then there was a report about what I was looking at. Smudged chalk markings, an odd pattern that had been created by the sword even though there was no evidence of any liquid that could have caused the effect.
There were four silver inlaid abalone shells that had ash and soot residue in them. According to the report the residue was made primarily of burnt herbal materials… primarily of pine, amaranth and pine resin.
I wrinkled my nose as I glanced around… ready to dig into more information when I was suddenly interrupted by another researcher who requested that I return the file to the researcher’s office.
I had a lot to think over… more and more questions. But things were matching to other things that I had learned in the past few months. I continued to ponder everything on my way out of the room and came to a sudden halt just a few steps away from the doorway. My brows drew together even further seeing Yas just… standing there… her gaze locked on the exhibition ahead of her. The sword to be exact. When I stepped over to her, she did not respond… no reaction at all, even after I touched her arm. She was cold. Literally cold to the touch and seemed completely spaced. It was almost identical to how I found her on the beach a few weeks ago. But now… she just looked more harried. I knew that she had left town briefly around the time of the Harvestide, but I had not had a chance to catch up with her since she returned.
I gripped her arm, even shook her slightly… then again, a little harder. I gasped as a chill raced down my spine and it seemed as if the coldness seeped out of her and rushed over me before finally her eyes seemed to adjust and refocus.
“Scarlette…?” Confusion… her wide eyes shifted from me to the hall… to the exhibition… then her hands crossed and started stroking up and down each of her arms insistently. She looked like a doe caught in headlights, paralyzed and uncertain… “wh… did I do something?”
I shook my head, explained that she was just standing there, we both turned and stared at the exhibit before her… the sword. My stomach curled again and the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
“Were you hearing voices Yas?” I asked softly, hesitantly. Her eyes darted to me and she looked confused again, nervous. Then scared.
“I… I don’t remember…” she hesitated then shook her head, “I don’t remember how I got here… what I was doing… I don’t remember anything Scarlette…”
Just like Sirvan.
HOTEL | DONOVAN - DONE
Several days later, I realized that things were steadily getting more insane in my hometown. I woke from a wonderfully calm night’s sleep. The embers of the herbs I picked up from Mikel’s shop simmered in a dish by my bedside and the aroma still lingered in the room. It was pleasant and soothing. Under normal circumstances, it would be likely that I would feel safe and carefree after such a contented night of sleep. But there was nothing normal about what I woke to. I was not even able to escape my home before the craziness was literally slapping me in the face.
The strangeness seemed to be affecting Grace too. I had already woken late in the morning… almost noon, thanks to a rather long night of pouring through my notes and after showering then changing, I entered the living room to find her just standing there, at the window… staring out. It was not the first time I had found her in a similar state, usually I would just shrug my shoulders and leave her to whatever thoughts she was having. But after Sirvan… and Yas… I don’t know, I felt concern. And feeling concern for that woman was almost as shocking as learning about everything else that was going on around town. I hesitated, considered just leaving her to it… whatever it was… but I could not seem to make myself ignore her that day. It took me several tries to break through to her but all she did was start bristling at me and becoming passive aggressive once I did. Shocker! In the end, I escaped… having no wish to endure her poor temper any longer than was absolutely necessary.
But once outside, the chill… the fog… it seemed to try to reach up and grab me. The city street was lost to darkness. A hazy gray sky hung low and slow puffy swirls stretched as far as the eye could see heading towards the cities center. Looming shadows tricked the eye into believing people… or something… waited, watched. As I made my way along the road it was obvious that the fog was thickest near the beaches and especially along the shoreline. The burnt out pier was almost entirely hidden behind a layer of the cloudy mist. I trembled but tried my best to compartmentalize that it was just bad weather.
The gray swirls puffed and spread from corner to corner, and I literally was having trouble seeing just a short distance again. I trembled and tried to pretend that there was nothing of concern. But I knew this to not be true. There was something absolutely wrong. I nibbled on my lower lip as I came upon the hotel, my destination. To be perfectly honest, I did not specifically intend to come there, I just wanted to be out of the house… away from Grace.
Even with the fog encroaching it stood like a beacon… right by the beach, within walking distance to the beaches and west pier. I took note of the flowers that once grew in the beds out front were now replaced by small, delicate bushes with bright red berries scattered all over. As I stepped through the door another guest was close on my heels. Smiling graciously, I hold the door open for them and am stunned by what I see. The elderly woman continued forward but my eyes were drawn to the abnormal recoil of the fog, like it just suddenly reared back… like waves crashing into an immovable object. I stood there for a moment longer than I normally might have… just watching how the gray matter just seemed to break against an invisible panel that was the open door. Shivering harder I stepped back, dumbfounded and trying to convince myself that I was hallucinating. I rubbed my eyes as I moved further into the hotel, also noting, almost instantly that the cold of outside had fallen away just as suddenly as the fog. Faint piano music emanating from… somewhere… reassures me that I am safe here, for now at any rate.
I wander up to the concierge desk and ask after Donovan, only to be informed that he was in a previously engaged meeting but that I was welcome to visit the rooftop terrace that just happened to be open for a day menu in lieu of those guests that were stuck indoors due to the odd weather.
I was given a window seat, which ordinarily would have been lovely in broad daylight, but given that the fog had blanketed about ninety percent of Draycott, there wasn’t much else to see. As I waited for my ordered items, I did glance out and well…
… Something was wrong with the fog. Like, more than usual… or rather already. Because when I looked towards the location of the lighthouse and I can see the fog spiking into the air. As if it were forming tendrils and those long thick wisps had begun to wrap around the lighthouse itself. Or rather… it had begun to wrap itself around the space around the lighthouse, not really touching the building at all. Almost as if the building was protected by some sort of invisible sphere or forcefield, breaking against the unbelievable buffer… almost exactly what I imagined had happened at the entrance of the hotel. As I stare, I feel like the fog seems to be moving in a determined manner… as if it was somehow seeking to get a better grip. A grip? What the hell was I thinking? I almost laughed at myself… and might have… if the vision had cleared up or disappeared. I could maybe believe I was imagining it. But it just seemed as if the damn fog was trying to crush the building… or even pull it into the sea.
Finally, my food arrives but I’m too distracted… too unnerved to really enjoy the fare. It was quite exquisite, that much I could ascertain, and I knew that on any other day… or another time… I would have savored every bite. Instead I moved the delicate meal around on my plate while drinking liberally from an endless glass of mimosa that my waitress seemed far to attentive at refilling.
It was well into the middle of the afternoon by the time I pushed back from my table and exited the terrace, yet I was not ready to venture back into the strangeness that had blanketed Draycott in the past months. Instead, I made my way to the coffee shop.
There was a marked difference between that cozy café and the grand restaurant above. With it’s old-fashioned wood paneling, cream white archways and picturesque oil painting hanging from each panel, you would think you stepped into a lovely, intimate bistro on the Riviera.
As I walk through I paused… taking note of a portrait hanging near the reception. It’s tastefully done and depicts a family of five. An older stern looking man, beardless, but furrowed brow and dark auburn hair… I recognize him immediately. It was old Mister Fraser… at least it looked like the spiting image of him. Of course, to be fair, Donovan looked remarkedly like him too… but the man in this painting… I would bet my last dollar that he was the proprietor that used to slip me sweets when I would come to the hotel as a child. The woman next to him I had never seen before, but she was perfect… serene, beautiful. Her light hair was done up in a bun with ringlets cascading on the side. There was a young boy and a girl… brunette and redheaded respectfully and the girl appeared to be holding something… spider lilies? In the elegant woman’s arms, she holds a baby, much younger boy… hair a light auburn and eyes that seemed to stare out at me knowingly. I know those eyes. Hadn’t Donovan told me he had a brother… a teacher… and a sister in the states at some wildlife refuge.
It would make sense that he is the babe in the picture… but… the painting itself… when was it taken? It seems far too old to be anything done in the 20th century, more like… 19th. But that could not be possible. Donovan was somewhere around my age… maybe a few years younger or older. This had to be an impressively excellent copy of a painting from that ear.
“Oh… that?” A waiter approaches, interrupting my scrutiny. “That’s the Fraser family portrait.” He beams proudly, clearly a satisfied employee. “Mr. Donovan likes to keep it there, away from the light. It depicts his family, and the old Mr. Fraser. Never aged, that man, but he retired to the Carparthians. Something about a broken heart and Mr. Fraser… the younger one… he has been there running things ever since.”
I smile lightly, giving the painting one last look before taking in my surroundings. Here I was far removed from the noise and chaos. A little slice of quiet in a mad, mad world. I turned to leave but just then Donovan himself slips out of the elevator and seems to head directly towards me.
“I got word that you were here… is… is everything alright?” Why did my heart flutter at the sight of him? He was a comfort, I realized I had been using him mercilessly to cope with everything that was happening. But… my eyes roamed over him and I felt a tickle race down my spine. Who was I kidding? I often felt that when he was nearby. He was dreamy of course. But he was just for sex… for relaxing… unwinding… for just blocking out he bad thoughts, for a time. I licked my lips nervously and shook my head as his brows drew together watching me.
“Yes, sorry… I mean, I guess. As fine as can be expected I guess.” He took my arm and escorted me to a table that was a distance away from the few patrons littered around the shop. It was a little more private, several potted plants kind of shielded the space from any nosy onlookers. A waiter approached and he ordered us both a beverage then sat back a moment as if contemplating something.
“Did you need me for something then?”
I blushed. I could not help it. Hadn’t sex been the first thing I thought of the moment I saw him? I had been conditioning my mind to remember what he was for. I picked up a spoon that had been left at the table and began spinning it slowly between my fingers.
“No. I did not come here for… that” I muttered, and his lips twitched slightly, curling into a smirk as he watched me. I squirmed and nibbled on my lower lip as I peeped over at him.
“You won’t convince me that I bore you on that front…” he taunted softly and goosebumps prickled the hair on my forearms and sent a rush of pressure surging into my chest.
“There is nothing boring about you Donovan Fraser” I admitted on a laugh. “I would wrap myself around you anywhere and anytime and anyway…”
It was his turn to shift as he made a rumble deep in his throat and his eyes narrowed into nearly slits. My pulse raced, and just like that… all I wanted to do was jump all over him. I truly had not meant to seek him out for that, but I would be lying if I said it was not something that started to fuel me in that very moment.
“So why are you here then?” His voice was low, daring… taunting really.
“I don’t know” my voice had lowered as well, arousal but also confusion laced my words. “I had not really thought it through. I had no plan. I just needed to get away from Grace… just needed to get away. And before I knew it I was here… as if I knew I would somehow be safe here… or maybe it was some unconscious need to see you…?” Again, with the blatant admissions. I did not turn my gaze away after the blunt comment.
“But not for sex?” he asked just as bluntly. My stomach fluttered and my pulse raced. Was it simply lust?
“I am certain I would not object if that is what I found here…” I don’t hedge or play games, we had gone beyond that point in the last months, at least I thought so. I felt no shame in wanting him, no regret in continuing to be with him. It was fun… intense and satisfying. There was nothing wrong with two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company in such a fashion. “But… no, I do not think that was what I was seeking when I came here…” This was the tricky part.
“You came because you thought I could protect you…?” He sounded… skeptical? Confused? He wasn’t the only one. I was confused. Scared, if I were being completely honest. Not just of what was happening in the town, but because of how much I was beginning to rely on his presence… on his touch… on him? I had just sought him out, senselessly… ending up basically on his doorstep assuming on some subliminal level that somehow, some way, he meant an ease for the wretched emotions that triggered inside of me.
I could not tell him that. I focused my gaze on the spoon I held. What on earth could I say? He would surely laugh his head off at those foolish sentimental sensations. Our relationship was clearly defined. Wasn’t it? Friends… maybe? Definitely with benefits. Yet, it was not lost on me that I sought him out… often in the last months. A deep-seated need had taken root. He never denied me, but he never hinted that there could be something more either. Did I even want anything more? Urgh… he was waiting for a response…
“I thought maybe… you could tell me what you know about what is happening in Draycott…?” such bullshit. But my eyes caught sight of the window nearby… the fog floating around the building like a barrier and well, it was as good an excuse as any. And truthfully, he might just have some insight. “Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this happening before?”
Suddenly, a brunette approached and settled our drinks on the table before immediately rushing off to tend to other customers that had filled up a counter towards the front of the shop. When I looked back to Donovan he was sitting there sipping on his drink, a whiskey, as he contemplated my question. Or studied me… I could not be sure which it was. But I also remembered far too late that the man was way too skilled at reading me.
“No, I’ve not.” The answer is blunt, simple. “Not as long as I’ve lived in Draycott, and certainly not anywhere else I’ve lived. It’s an… experience, to be honest. Usually fog comes and dissipates with weather. Draycott itself hasn’t gone through this in recorded history. But… if it’s something supernatural…”
I frowned. Why would he say that? Supernatural stuff was of fairy tales and movies. I shivered glancing towards the window then took the drink before me an had a sip. My hands shook.
He waves a hand, careless and airy. “An exorcism perhaps. But that presumes we know the source, and that the spirit haunting this place. Usually, it takes place either by returning an object or by banishing it altogether, reverting what once was.”
“You believe in supernatural things?” I interrupted with my narrowed gaze locked on him. He seemed so nonchalant about all of this. Did he hesitate? Wouldn’t that be the most reasonable explanation of what was going on? Like… nothing else made sense.
“If there are supernatural things happening…” he finally continued… “it’s a good rule of thumb that if you can… restore the place or the site to what it once was, and for all intents and purposes it should end the… spell… haunting… disagreement.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. All the evidence I had uncovered, all the information… there were so many clues. If I were to just accept that the unthinkable was the only logical conclusion. Should I even be sitting here considering such an outrageous assumption? An exorcism? For fog?
“You’re suggesting that Draycott has a poltergeist?” I scoffed softly but every nerve was standing on end in my body. “I am supposed to believe in paranormal activity occurring in town…? Spooks and goblins and boogeymen?... and let’s say I step over the line into complete madness… what if we can’t find whatever this place or site is that needs righting?”
Donovan’s smile thins and he takes another sip of his drink as he gazes across the table at me. Did his eyes brighten? Darken… flicker? My nipples hardened under the sweater I wore, and my breath caught. The glint in his eyes left me feeling both dangerously vulnerable and unreasonably comfortable. How could someone inspire such conflicting emotions.
“Then my red ruby… if there is a God you believe in, I suggest that you begin praying to him… them… it…”
FOREST | MIKEL - DONE
Days later I was still shaken over my conversation with Donovan. Like, literally, he drove fear into the depths of my soul. When I left the hotel, every sound spooked me, the fog tricked me. It fantasized eyes mocking me the entire path back to my home. Did I hear voices? Something was out there. Donovan had me convinced of it despite how utterly insane it sounded. There was something out there, something horrific. And it was coming.
What the hell were we going to do. I pondered my notes, all the information I had collected, some without even realizing it. The legends I picked up from the Curio seemed to parallel the findings from the excavation site. Like it was all linked.
And so, after finally willing myself to accept something so illogical… preposterous… impossible, I began trying to figure out ways that we might actually take action against… well… fairy tales. Whatever was coming… whatever needed to be pushed back into the hell from which it came… I was nearly certain it was rising up from that excavation site. The ruins beneath the South Pier was our target. It had to be.
I returned to Mikel at Seaside Curio. So far… outside of the information I had gained through my DARG connection, he had been a fount of knowledge. He eyed me skeptically after I arrived and blurted out what I had come for.
“What’s happening?” he shifts behind the counter as Yanny butts her head against his hand. “Not as much as you do perhaps. Donovan and I have been tracking, tracing things, but you don’t need me to tell you that it’s to do with the South Pier at this point…” He smiles, a little strained after confirming my assumption out loud. But he seemed far too calm for someone discussing this sort of thing with me. As careless and… well I would not say untroubled… but certainly he seemed unsurprised at the prospect of supernatural activity. Just like Donovan.
“I’m likely to think our hunches were right, that whatever that excavation dredged up was meant to stay there. But… I also think that the researchers honestly had no idea what was going on. Sirvan had brought Zain and Professor Azari on to help restore and preserve the South Pier, not…. Whatever this is by this point. So, we’ve been trying to research, to push more, but obviously… Sirvan getting stabbed has sent everyone into a panic.”
I nibble on my lower lip before twisting them slightly to one side. “I… maybe. But…” I paused and took a deep breath, not sure what I expected him to say but finally continued. “well, Sirvan is alive. He’s safe, resting comfortably, healing. But… yes, I feel certain that his stabbing must be linked to all of the abnormal happenings. So… I have decided I am headed up into the forest... over behind the school…”
Mikel frowned and shook his head. “It’s probably not a good idea to do any type of exploring alone at this point Scarlette…”
“Perhaps, maybe…” I mutter again, even nodding. “Which is why I am going to ask you to go with me. I promise I won’t stay too long, but I just. I am not sure what I will find up there, but I feel like I have to go look. So, I would appreciate if you would go with me, but if you won’t… I will go alone.”
He frowned and shook his head. “Fine… there are a few things I could pick up out there anyway…”
That drew me up short. What the hell could he pick up in the forest? I glanced to the herbs and shook my head. Silly question.
It didn’t take a long time for him to lock up and us to make our way over to the path just behind the school. As we moved deeper into the forest, the fog seemed to fade away and not touch that area of the woods, despite how dense it was down below. The trail was clear, well-lit and the higher we climb the easier I find it to breathe and see.
Eventually we reach a small, flat rocky outcrop. The trees were thinner and in the opening was a series of stone pillars by the cliffside. There are symbols and circles carved into the rock face, gouged deep in the stone. It is calm, tranquil… a sense of peace envelops me… us? As if nothing could touch me there, like the feeling inside the hotel. There is a melodic song drifting above, faint… soothing. I even pause to smile softly at the serenity. But then we continue on, Mikel leading the way.
The trees seem to twist and twine upon themselves. We leave the lovely clearing behind and with it the sense of safety begins to… fade. Now, it’s closer to my typical, spooky fairytale forest. The type that Hansel and Gretel got lost in, falling prey to and nearly being eaten up by witches. Black branches snake out grasping at other trees and snagging vines plus rocks along the path. Darkness ensues, the fog returns, and I nearly stumble headfirst into a rock face, carved from the forest, several feet deep. My foot was caught on something… a pickaxe? Someone had been quarrying there, but it seemed to have been long forgotten.
Mikel, however, seemed completely unperturbed, as if he had been there before. The only indication that he was worried about the fog is the flashlight he brings out. It shines a dull muted beam into the mists allowing my eyes to finally adjust and see into the darkness ahead.
I make out the well-worn paths all overgrown with weeds, plants and crumbled eroded earth. There are even little wooden huts, abandoned… ramshackled. The quiet was eerie… foreboding. But then there were strange, creaking noises too. Clearly, we had come to the quarry… a quarry? Were there others? I could see remnants of some tools, some more pickaxes, and stones. I bent down and gathered a few, slipping what I could carry comfortably into the bag I carried. I wanted to reference these rocks with the notes and the information at the researcher’s office. Someone had tried to steal something from up here. Was I stealing now? I shook my head.
Going further into the quarry goosebumps spread down my spine as the must and damp assail me. It looked as if the workers that had once strived to clear this place just up and walked out mid-shift?... Remnants of an age gone by: old, abandoned lamps, broken glass shards scattered on the floor, a few pairs of worn moth-eaten mining boots; pickaxes and pickaxe heads were tossed without a care. Minecarts were half filled with rocks, rusting away under dirt. In the distance I hear footsteps, but I am not sure if they are mine… definitely not Mikel’s.
“The quarry,” he comments drily. I had guessed as much. “They used to excavate rocks, pillars, anything you could get your hands on… it would be here. It’s not as safe as the forest, but still… there are some energies lurking around… “
What the hell was he going on about. I shook my head again. I had accepted the whole supernatural phenomena… why would I expect this place to be any different. He points off to a certain direction and I am stunned.
In the distance, I can see a river… running down from somewhere further up the hill. There are little will o’wisps dancing along the shoreline. Bright, vibrant pink and purple flowers add a bit of vibrance and brightness to the shroud of gloom that blanketed the area we stood in. Almost as if they were sustained by some otherworldly force. I am drawn to them… whether by curiosity or sheer will of force… but I lean in, hover my hand over them and they almost lean into my touch, as if they know that I am there. Chills raced through me.
“Oh, there you are…” Mikel… his voice breaks into my musings as he bends down next to me. I see a spark of gold dancing around his fingertips. That can’t be right. “I’ve been looking for these… they keep the nightmares away, and to strengthen. Only if dried though because fresh flowers have a nasty poison to them.”
He sets to work, plucking a few then tying them in a bundle before gently tucking them into his satchel. “That’ll do for now” he tells me, voice quiet. “taking more might stunt their regrowth. Further in, there are a few patches of herbs, but…”
Before he can say more, we hear a howl of… something. It doesn’t sound like a wolf… or anything natural if you asked me. Mikel’s expression changes, he looks alarmed then motions for me to head back the way we came. Urgently. I did not hesitate, stepping more carefully than when I first arrived, mindful of the scattered debris I rushed back through the thickening darkness feeling more fright than I had coming in. Once we pushed back into the forest clearing, brightness returned… along with it an ease that had just almost been choked out of me moments before. I turned back to where we came… and I could see the darkness… just hovering outside the cropped exposure we stood in.
“This makes no sense at all” I whispered.
“Donovan’s also heard that some people have gone missing. Not just… well townsfolk. Visitors, from outside… some researchers, all sorts. Just here one day and… just never returned after going out too late at night.” my skin crawled. Donovan had not mentioned that the other day when I met with him. “And others say that they’ve been sleepwalking to places, hearing strange voices and sounds…”
“Yes…” I nod slowly, clutching my bag laden with a few samplings of the stones. Mikel had already started to move towards the trail that would lead back to town. I followed along, rather quickly, not wanting to be left alone. “I have seen and heard the same… hell, I might have experienced some of it myself, but it has been weeks now since I felt those sensations. Sirvan told me that he was hearing voices before he was stabbed… and Yasaman, well, as far as I can tell she has it more than anyone else I am familiar with.” I paused momentarily only to have Mikel encourage me to continue about what I had witnessed. “She has been going through all of those same things. I have caught her more than once just seeming to be entranced, paralyzed… mindlessly hovering at some unusual place and it has taken me sometimes several minutes to break her free of the stupor. And then she is just completely confused, alarmed the last couple times. She hears sounds and voices and darkness… a lot of darkness.”
His brow furrows deeply “Part of me would like to say it’s nothing more than exhaustion, but… there’s too many people who’ve gone through this thing. If you have a chance, bring her over if you can. I might have a thing or two that could maybe help…”
“Oh, and Scarlette…” We had just passed the school and I hesitated at the corner that would lead to my home. Mikel paused as well, his destination further into town. “Makes sure you bring a third person. Possibly to hold her down. I have my theories…” he sounded so ominous. “… it might get a tiny, tiny bit violent in the worst case scenario”
MONTH 10 | FIGHT - DONE
I tried unsuccessfully for about a week to get Yas to come with me to Seaside Curio, and to Mikel. She always had some excuse… work, too busy… another artifact to log, to examine… another report to verify. Always something. To be fair, I did not catch her staring off in a trance for a few days so I began to wonder if maybe she had found a way to recover from the strange condition that seemed to overcome her at time. I almost… almost let it go.
However, I knew things were not getting better. I knew that things were only getting worse. And by now I was fully invested in the assumption that all of this had something to do with the Ruins, the artifacts… and some ancient pagan God, Mh’ilerh… or The Miller. It and it’s sea-vomited apparitions mentioned in myth and legend… to all extents and purposes, seemed to be haunting Draycott. A chill raced down my spine each time I thought of it, each time I stepped out into the cold, into that hateful, suffocating fog. Dread and fear choked at me, the voices… they were back… growing louder, more insistent. And if I was feeling the affects of the demon-spawn, I did not for a moment think that Yas, who handled the exhibition items personally… who spent days… weeks, months in those ruins… there simply was no way she was not being affected.
And so, I gave up trying to convince her to go with me and enlisted the help of my brother. Mikel had suggested that I bring someone to help at any rate. Whatever outcome was yet to come, I would see that the woman got to someone that could help. I was determined.
It took some time to finally located her, and even a bit of trickery on my part. Rafe was not a member of DARG, he had no authorization to enter the offices or the lab. But with the darkness creeping in thicker and deeper into the city the Town Hall was almost completely deserted. Only essential employees continued to report to the building, too many reports of power outages and communication losses…. Too many instances of unexplainable sightings. People were afraid to enter. The guard at the door recognized me immediately and was all to willing to let my brother in to walk me to the laboratory. It was where I had learned that Yas was hold up. The guard obviously had no interest in visiting the strange room, and my explanation that Rafe was there to examine some of the lab tests was met with completely acceptance. It was a lie… but it did not matter.
Yas was exactly where we expected, hunched over a desk in the lab, mumbling about something. We moved closer and my blood chilled. She was giggling… no cackling. Softly, hauntingly, hysterically. Then she was chanting… over and over and over again
“naught… naught…. It is naught… hehe… naught… it is time… it is naught… hehe…” I shivered and glanced at Rafe who looked utterly confused.
“Yas…” I called… no response. She just pushed at the object she held, squeezing it between her fingers and talking gibberish. I stepped around… “Yas…” again nothing. She did not look up, did not move except to twist her fingers repeatedly around the object. I reached out, touched her forearm and reared back, wincing. It was like I had stuck my fingers into a frozen lake and came back frost-bitten in seconds. I shivered in every limb.
“She’s like an ice cube” I hissed making Rafe gaze narrow. She still had not responded. I glanced around helplessly, looking for… something… anything…
Suddenly Rafe moved into action, yanking off his coat and wrapping it around her body and then immediately yanking her up into his arms. But as much as that should have helped, Yas suddenly reacted, shrieking loudly and lashing out. Her body heaved to the side causing Rafe to lose his grip and she slipped away before rounding on both of us. Her eyes were glazed over, and I could not see that she had any recollection of either of us… or any recognition of her surrounding for that matter. Then she went completely still, frozen… entranced. I had seen this before. The lights overhead flickered, even more coldness seeped into the room and then… fog.
“Rafe…” I hissed, shaking.
“Yeah I see…”
The fog stretched, rose, darkened. And then… the sea-bloated blue-eyed witch was there, shrieking… hissing. I gasped… the fog trailed behind the vision, and the face… oh God… I swear it looked like Yas. I stood there paralyzed, watching the monster float it’s way towards me, whispering… hissing. Then it looked left, eyes rounding, its mouth opening wide… a terrifying shrill escaping and I glanced over seeing Rafe wrapping Yas’ body once more and jerking her tighter into his arms. He slung her over his shoulder this time then turned, quickly, gripping me by the shoulder and yelling…
“GO… GO GO GO….”
The fog surrounded us but that monster… whatever it had been… did not follow. It remained in the lab… while Yas lay prone over his shoulder… but only until we exited the building. Then Yas’ was the one shrieking, yelling… twisting and trying to resist the hold around her. We did not stop, not once. We raced across the pavement, rushing through the fog and made our way to the Curio.
Mikel was there, his eyes widening at our abrupt and brutal entrance. The door swung violently against the wall, that tiny little bell jarred by the slamming door. The moment he spotted Rafe’s wiggling, resistant captive Mikel jumped into action. Per his order, Rafe and I trailed behind a rapidly racing Mikel to the hotel, a satchel slung and bouncing haphazardly on the smaller male’s back.
How utterly foolish had I been, sitting there… helplessly watching as Rafe held down a withering and screaming Yas… Mikel doing something… what the hell was he doing? Whatever he was doing, it seemed to jolt into her body, but he held no equipment… yet each time he brushed his fingers over her body she jerked, as if he had just jolted her with a heart machine. Then she would screech, growl, hiss… and all I could think was that this was the exorcism that Donovan had spoken of. And so, I sat there, glad I had rushed her over, worried that maybe I had been too late, relieved when Mikel thought he could work ‘some magic’… I assumed… I reconciled that this was it. We had won. The demon… the devil… the evil being, whatever the hell that was eating away inside of Yas… that…thing… that was trying to consume Draycott would be exorcized that night. And I took faith, while we spent the whole of the next few hours working between holding Yas down and rushing about for items that Mikel called for, certain that finally… this would all be over.
How absolutely moronic I had been. Because all we had done that night… was witness be very first of what was yet to come.
The very next day, the disappearances started. It all started with a song, multi-layered, almost like a dirge… an awful, obsessive hymn that floated off the first waves that crashed to shore that morning. And as it rang out, half the town went prone… from all over town, they gathered, marched… blindly, dutifully? They passed over pavement, stomped across the sands, walking straight to the shoreline… beyond it. All, one by one, in droves seeping into the blackened fog that choked around the town. There was no drowning, no screaming… no one flipping about in the water, struggling. None of that. The sea was calm, just eating up one townsfolk after another. Not a strip of cloth or personal belonging lingered or escaped. They just… vanished. And as soon as the last of the ‘summoned’ slipped past the surface… the song just stopped.
Those left in the city went into a panic. Shouting, screaming… racing about. Some trying to flee by car, by foot… other’s desperately trying to communicate with someone…anyone outside of town. But nothing worked. No one came, no one left. No matter what method they tried…road, foot…even boat… the fog just consumed and obstructed the path ahead. Always steering them right back to Draycott. There was no escape…. No help. The fog just expanded… grew deeper, thicker…
This lasted for nearly two full weeks. Rafe was beside himself with worry. Admittedly, I was too. Shockingly. In my effort to rescue Yas, my focus on her… thinking that she was somehow the answer to the riddle… that she was at the center of the trouble. I put all my eggs in one basket so to speak. And in doing so, I missed the opportunity to rescue Grace. Mom. She had been one of the townsfolk… slipping past the shore one morning. Rafe and I… both were still occupied and watching over Yas. We hadn’t even known about Grace until it was too late. And now… despite the bitterness and hurtful things that had been shared between us over the years… I regretted and ached at the loss of her. Not knowing what happened to her was the worst part of it.
I mean, if there had been bodies… some explanation of what happened after they vanished. We had no idea if the fog had just consumed them or if they had just fallen of the face of the Earth. And every day after the disappearances stopped happening Rafe wandered the fog laden beach, seeking answers, heartbroken over the mother that he had loved far more than I thought I had.
But even that was not the end of the horror story. No… that beast was not done with us yet. It was not enough that it had stolen hordes of our family and friends… our neighbors and coworkers… no it was not simply enough for all that. Suddenly, after weeks of absolutely nothing, there was the sound of feet padding along the streets… in the mist. Low, deep groans and piercing wails tore through town, rapping up against the shutters of our home, carrying horrifically in the wind, slamming violently against the doors. The wails of pain… fear pierced what had been silence over the previous two weeks.
Rafe was at the hotel, or I assumed he was. Still monitoring Yas… between that and his inspections of the beach, he rarely made his way home those days. All alone I hesitated, uncertain if I wanted to know what was happening. But the loud rattling noises continued, becoming louder, more insistent.
Unable to resist, I finally peeled back a curtain and cried out. I stumbled back from the sight, shaking in utter terror. What the hell!? But I could not just pretend that it was not there… or that I was imagining it. I could hear the sounds of nails raking against metal and plaster and siding… making my skin crawl. When I peeped out again, a scream choked up in my throat as vacant blue eyes… one pair… two… twenty… my God… I could not count them all, they all stared like specks of light blue breaking through the fog. Pale-skinned, sea-soaked beings shuffled through the streets of Draycott sulking out of the fog and mist. Looking literally like they manifested straight out of the fog… both fog and death. Their low, deep groans and piercing wails tore through town, as if they sobbed in pain… or fear.
One seemed to lock in on me… could it see me? Sense me? Suddenly it rushed forward, slamming right up against the window and shrieking. Another followed, then another… seeming intent on getting in. Trying to break in… to capture me? Take me… drag me out into the fog… into the sea?
Without thinking too hard about it I snatched up my bag… the same one I had been using for weeks… inside were a number of things I had collected over the months… some herbs Mikel had given me… a couple stones, some minerals. My notes. I rushed out… using the back entrance… the side opposite where the … what the hell were they? Monsters? Demons? … I did not think. I raced out, pounding the pavement as fast as I could, until I reached the bridge. The water under it was inky black… the fog rising up choking off the road… making it look like it was all but vanished as the townsfolk had been. I choked back a squeal and grit my teeth, trying to figure out what to do… where to go. I gripped my bag tighter as shadows started to drift closer, then they were there... those bodies... those creatures. Coming towards me… trying to get me. I rushed forward and thankfully the road was there… just obscured by the fog.
Just as I touched a foot on the opposite side of the bridge something reached out, grabbed me… I was certain I was a goner. I screamed… I kicked, I swung… but at what? I felt nothing… just fog… there was nothing. But something held me, then one of those bodies was there, gripping me, pulling me.
Then something flashed. Bright, harsh light shot past me, searing into the being and a howl pierced the darkness… a wail of agonizing pain before the icy, clammy touch was gone, lifted. But just as that grip released another took hold, only to be ripped off. My eyes had to be deceiving me because I was certain that I saw Donovan… for a split second, his eyes burning bright, not blue… but red… and his teeth bared… no… not teeth… were those fangs? He was one of the monsters? I screamed again as he blinked out of sight only to manifest several feet away, jerking and ripping one of the bloated beings apart. Literally… with his bare hands. Then he jumped again, another body torn down by his strength. What the hell was I seeing??
“Scarlette… this way!” A shout… Mikel? My eyes wild, wide… scanned my surroundings but he was right there, beside me… his hair flying behind him… as if some mythical wind surrounded him, one hand reaching out for me while the other…the other hovered before him, literally shooting bolts of light from his fingertips.
I had no time to digest… or reflect… or think. I rushed to his side, felt his warm touch grip my elbow as he ushered me through the fog… a fog that seemed to flourish and grow… but in a wide breath around us. For whatever reason… it avoided Mikel… and Donovan, who seemed to split the mist… split it, rip apart a body then vanish once more.
“Rafe???” I shouted, the fear still churning inside of me even though I was not as alone as before.
“Hotel!” Mikel replied, shooting another jolt out. Then we were racing, rushing through the maze of bodies and fog until we turned to the road that headed towards the hotel, Donovan periodically popping into view ahead of us both, seeming to clear the path. Suddenly the hotel loomed ahead, a tall grand beacon seemingly untouched by the oppressive soot black smog cascaded all around Draycott. Almost there… to safety my brain chanted… but then I stumbled… hesitated… spun around.
“Sirvan?” I asked, drawing Mikel’s attention… Donovan was suddenly there too... urging us to move… to hurry… “Sirvan??” I demanded again both men… well… or whatever they were… blanched. Donovan took my arm and tried to force me forward, shouting out that we had to keep going. But I couldn’t. Sirvan was still out there… hurt… alone. I had been alone. Those creatures had almost gotten me and I wasn’t injured. Sirvan would not have a chance alone. I twisted my arm and took a step back… towards the fog… away from the hotel.
“Scarlette... we don’t have time…” It was Mikel… he was resigned to the idea of losing the mayor. I pressed my lips together tightly, my heart hammering in my chest. I was terrified… but I had to go… I had to try. I glanced between them both. Donovan spoke… to Mikel… urging him to return to the hotel before he moved towards me, his jaw set as firmly as mine. “For fucks sake” Mikel hissed. But instead of turning back to the hotel… he stepped over to us.
Together, the three of us made our way to Sirvan’s home… the fog almost completely blanketing it, horrid bodies jammed against almost every corner of the building. Donovan tore through them, Mikel shot them. We broke in, Donovan ripping the door from its hinges and I rushed in. Sirvan… looking panicky standing in the middle of his room, hoisting what looked to be an antique samurai sword. His wide eyes narrowed then closed and he slumped down, his shoulders shaking raggedly… relief flooding him in waves at our sudden appearance.
There was no time for dressing, or for gathering anything. I stepped over, hooking one of his arms over my shoulders and letting him use my body as support while both Donovan and Mikel continued to be a shield and weapon. The second escape through town took a little longer as we had to move slower with Sirvan dragging due to his wound, but we made… eventually. And as we crossed over the threshold of the hotel… those monsters… well they just seemed to disintegrate against what seemed like an invisible barrier. We were safe… for the moment.
OUTFIT
RUNNING AWAY
ROUND 4 DONE
Last edited by BambiFoxx (23/07/2020 at 23:24)
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)|, Faron, Mikel, Melia (FI)
