Natalie Waters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spitefulvitae) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-04-08 04:34 am
spitefulvitae) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-04-08 04:34 am
Entry tags:
02 - Sink into your Embrace
[Action A - 2240 Stevens Road - Friday, April 6th, morning]
[What was this in the mail? Packages? Three of them? One big, one small, and one envelope, all addressed to her? But she knew better than to open any of them in the open. Not with the sun shining. So she had taken them inside, and because she was impatient, brought them down to the light-sheltered basement so she could open them now.
To make a long story short, she now had a bloody nose, an assortment of bee stings, and a makeshift paper sign on the now-locked basement reading "DO NOT ENTER - CONTAINS BEES". Also, that remaining envelope. Sitting on the living room couch, she held it between her thumb and forefinger and fought with herself to hold off on the opening. There was nowhere dark enough. Nowhere secure enough. Not in this house. And the daytime made her sluggish, anyway.
The sun really needed to hurry and set.]
[Action B - general vicinity of 2240 Stevens Road, early evening]
[When the sun had finally dipped far enough under the horizon, Natalie ripped open the envelope from the town. In it was a slip of paper with a single dot of blood upon it. She was confused for only a moment, for suddenly she remembered the knives and the bleeding and the wounds and that single drop of Father's vitae passing her lips. She was experiencing it all over again. Dying again. Rising again.
There's a hideous scream from inside the house. And then not long after that, out staggers Natalie, bloodied from the wrists down, eyes rapidly sinking and darkening and full of hunger. Pedestrians at this time of night, beware.]
[Action C - 1490 Kramden, evening]
[There's an insistent banging on the front door. Ilsa had made promises, and Natalie fully intended to collect on them.]
[What was this in the mail? Packages? Three of them? One big, one small, and one envelope, all addressed to her? But she knew better than to open any of them in the open. Not with the sun shining. So she had taken them inside, and because she was impatient, brought them down to the light-sheltered basement so she could open them now.
To make a long story short, she now had a bloody nose, an assortment of bee stings, and a makeshift paper sign on the now-locked basement reading "DO NOT ENTER - CONTAINS BEES". Also, that remaining envelope. Sitting on the living room couch, she held it between her thumb and forefinger and fought with herself to hold off on the opening. There was nowhere dark enough. Nowhere secure enough. Not in this house. And the daytime made her sluggish, anyway.
The sun really needed to hurry and set.]
[Action B - general vicinity of 2240 Stevens Road, early evening]
[When the sun had finally dipped far enough under the horizon, Natalie ripped open the envelope from the town. In it was a slip of paper with a single dot of blood upon it. She was confused for only a moment, for suddenly she remembered the knives and the bleeding and the wounds and that single drop of Father's vitae passing her lips. She was experiencing it all over again. Dying again. Rising again.
There's a hideous scream from inside the house. And then not long after that, out staggers Natalie, bloodied from the wrists down, eyes rapidly sinking and darkening and full of hunger. Pedestrians at this time of night, beware.]
[Action C - 1490 Kramden, evening]
[There's an insistent banging on the front door. Ilsa had made promises, and Natalie fully intended to collect on them.]
no subject
Of course you don't want things to get out of hand.
no subject
Of course not. I promise it'll be alright. Alright? Right? I promise. I do.
no subject
All right, then.
no subject
[With that apparently resolved, she turns around and starts down the street at an urgent pace.
Congrats, Hajime. You've got a crazy lady for a neighbor.]
no subject